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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

Introductory prologue. The main pairing will be established ironstrange x reader. This story will be rated explicit, have some canon-typical violence and language. The 'fuck' harvest is bountiful this time of the year. Updates - irregular so far, I'm posting it as I go.

No y/n, no "you", no name - nickname only, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns. Please leave a comment if you spot a stray 'blushing' or the likes, I write as it flows and sometimes miss those words when I proofread. I try to be inclusive of all my readers.

"Your total is twelve dollars, seventeen cents," I rattled off on autopilot, casting a glance at the cash register and plastering an automatic smile onto my face. The pleasant expression was frozen on it, stuck like glue, despite the news I had received earlier in the day. "Thank you, have a nice day," I doubted the customer actually heard my words.

One of those business-types, wearing a tailored two-piece, with a Bluetooth headset attached to their ear and brain always a mile away, our little coffee shop a mild interruption in their daily routine of making more and more money. "Hello, how can I help you?" I addressed the next customer, my eyes unseeing, gliding over their face and to the storefront where I noticed we were running low on eclairs and carrot cake.

"Hey, Starlight," the woman's voice was familiar, tone soothing, as I snapped my eyes to meet a pair of reddish-brown ones, staring at me with concern. "The usual," our city's very own superhero; Wanda Maximoff stood before me with her head curiously tilted to the side and her brother hovering behind her, examining the assortment of various cakes on display. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I sighed, sending off the organic, single-use cups with scribbles off to Dave, our barista. Wanda's order was large, usually about ten or twelve coffees and quite a few treats, so I donned on some nitrile gloves to package the treats while Dave handled the drinks with practiced ease. I admired his stoicism. "Might be seeing a bit less of me," the woman's eyebrows rose in displeasure at my admission.

"Tony won't be happy," Wanda mumbled, side-eyeing the backdoor behind which my boss usually resided during the day. "You got fired?" The words attracted the attention of her brother. Pietro was immediately at her side, joining into the concerned staring.

"Nope," I popped the 'p', methodically shoving the food in its packaging. "The café is expanding hours and our shifts are being split now. Jeremy is dead set on me working the graveyard shift, so I'll be here six AM to two PM," I couldn't help the sigh that left my lips.

My boss, Jeremy, had opened his boulangerie little over two years ago, and as he had predicted, it set off almost immediately. The place was located almost in the heart of the dozen corporate sky-rises full of busy, wealthy people who liked their things to be both instant and luxurious. Jeremy had fit right in with the law sharks and business vultures, if you ask me, with his penchant for demanding the impossible.

I was expecting an increase in work hours, I wasn't going to lie - our little cafe was busy nearly all the time it was open - but the fact that he chose to split a day's shift came as a punch to the gut. Like most service staff, I made most of my money from the tips, and they and they only were the only reason I stayed in a place with a shrew for a boss and the worst health insurance in the area. Thankfully, the rich businessmen from local offices didn't count their money and left me more than generous tips.

The coffee machine beeped for the last time as Dave passed me the three cupholders before I carefully bagged them, arranging the treats on top. I saw Wanda lick her lips at the aromas coming from the paper bag before Pietro snatched them out of my grasp. I rattled off the total, catching Wanda's eye as she passed me several twenty dollar bills, waving off my attempt to return the change.

"Penny for your wandering thoughts?" She smiled warmly as I chuckled at the question I've grown to expect with a quiet sort of joy.

The first time she'd wandered in, soaking wet from the rain and looking as lost as a child in a mall, ten minutes before closing time, I was reading my book right at the counter as I waited for the coffee machine to clean itself. I hadn't even noticed the quiet woman until her words startled me out of the book-induced trance and I shamefully had to ask her to repeat herself, hastily shoving my book under the counter. She smiled at me, shyly, and asked me about my reading instead of rattling an order for one of the sickly sweet caffeine concoctions female customers seemed to love. And she returned in a few days, asking the same question after taking a careful look at my face.

"And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about." I took a careful moment to recall a paragraph from the book I was currently reading, Murakami's 'Kafka on the Shore'. It seemed fitting, with all that had been going on in my life recently. I was still caught in the middle of the storm, unsure if I'd make it out but hoping for it nonetheless.

"That's beautiful," Pietro smiled at me, the tips of his silver hair reflecting the lights of the cafe's baroque style chandeliers. I barely managed to smile at him as he was already speeding off, the entrance door banging shut behind a blur of white and blue. Each time he did that, I couldn't help but wonder how he managed to not spill any of the hot beverages.

"Because it's true," Wanda added with a comforting smile. I nodded in agreement, hoping some of her positive attitude would dissipate the sense of doom I'd been lugging around all day. She departed, taking the sense of comfort with her, as I caught the tail end of something shouted in Sokovian - something that sounded exactly in place, coming from one disgruntled sibling to another.

When the residents of the nearby Stark tower began frequenting my workplace, I barely had the composure to stifle my quiet fangirling to socially acceptable levels. Not long after the Scarlet Witch turned a semi-regular, she started bringing her colleagues with her - Hawkeye at first, who was a decent, normal dude; he looked like an exasperated dad and Pietro appeared every thing the rambunctious son, as the younger man peppered the older man with questions about the cakes on our display.

They all had fancy names, but at the bottom of it, a chocolate cake was a chocolate cake. That much I told them, with a snort, earning myself a lopsided grin and a generous tip as I patiently listed off the more commonly used, simplified designations for the twins as the knowledge of them being European immigrants crossed my mind.

After Hawkeye came the Black Widow, and then Captain America with a sunny smile and his moody boyfriend in tow. While Bucky Barnes' expression was generally sour, the man had a wicked sweet tooth, shoveling frosted, glazed treats at the rate of a competitive eater. Both men were extremely polite if not very chatty and tipped well.

Tony Stark himself - well, he was a special one. His sense of humour trailed on the fine line of obscene, oftentimes raising the eyebrows of nearby people standing in line. I wasn't born yesterday, either: years of customer service work left me with little-to-no surprise regarding overzealous men and I could quip back equally as sharply, just slightly south of Tony's own jokes. He never overstepped, however, and with time, I developed a quiet appreciation for our small talks.

Which did brighten up my day, if only a little. "A little birdy told me your boss is being a douchebag. Want me to clean up that muck?" Tony was, as usual, wearing a bespoke suit and sunglasses, which he'd pushed up to his forehead as he frivolously leaned on the counter after placing his order.

I sighed, remembering Wanda's words. I didn't know what to expect from the eccentric billionaire; last of all, I didn't want any handouts. I'd started a search for a second part-time job the very day I got told my pay would be essentially cut in half. "No need, Mr. Stark, I'm gonna be fine and dandy," I replied with a smile that I was sure didn't really reach my eyes. "We'll still be able to resume our nice chit-chat at brunch on Saturdays," I winked, hoping to keep up the usual light atmosphere of our banter.

"I told you to call me Tony!" He exclaimed, like always, shaking his head and glaring at the back door. "Yeah, no," the man had absolutely no chill. "I'll still sic the IRS on him," the last part was said quietly. Mr. Stark often spoke to himself.

I laughed at the rich-kid, spoilt way he was acting. A grown man with an attitude of a teenager and a sweet tooth to match one - except for his coffee. That was always the strongest, blackest one we had on hand. I hadn't even heard of a triple espresso until Mr. Stark had waltzed in, skipping the line and filling the air around him with the smells of cologne that smelled like money, motor oil, iron and soot.

The moment I opened my e-mail at home, I felt my gloomy mood worsen, Mr. Stark's words echoing in my head. I'd sent my resumes to two dozen places and only a handful even bothered to reply - all preemptive rejections, there weren't businesses needing a part-time employee with a useless degree, who could only work evenings. Except bars, but they required some sort of certificate for bartenders and lots and lots of bare skin for waitresses. I tried to steer away from that part of the industry as much as I could, saving it as a last resort option.

It had come down to browsing Craigslist as I ate my way through a carton of cheap take-out, too exhausted to cook and too anxious to go out to the nearby bodega after 9 PM. One more negative side of working late shift - making my way home in the dead of the night in NYC and hoping Spider-Man was hanging out nearby should a thug decide on me to be their next victim. The joys of big city life.

As the column of various ads stared at me with various suspicious offers to make quick money, ads for 'young, sociable women' and I stared back at them in muted disgust. The 'looking for a job' section was much more sensible with the few ads I'd clicked on out of curiosity depicting people seemingly in a similar situation as me - short on money but not desperate enough to surrender their dignity to corporate greed. The decision was momentary - I'd started typing and hit the post button before I was through with my food, slapping my old laptop shut as soon as the as posted.

Hopefully, the creeps will stay away. The next couple of days stretched out slowly as I got up at the crack of dawn to open the shop, served the early birds whilst sipping my own matcha latte and clocked out not a second later than 2PM, taking home half the usual amount of tips. My e-mail remained as silent as ever, only a few suspicious replies to my ad, texts that I didn't even bother replying to. Human trafficking and pyramid schemes, was that all that NYC had to offer?

Apparently, not. Around 6PM, my phone dinged as a notification popped up and I scrambled to read it - all too aware of the upcoming rent day, and was pleasantly surprised with the contents of the e-mail, re-reading it several times to make sure there weren't any hidden stones under the water. I replied with my phone number, not expecting it to ring within minutes of hitting the send button.

"Hello?"

"Hi, we just corresponded," the voice on the other side was feminine but slightly rough, as if it's owner spent days chain-smoking. "I would like to invite you for a small interview, if you wouldn't mind."

I chewed on my lip in contemplation. "Could I ask you some questions first?" The levels of anxiety, I thought, were reasonable in the situation. It mutely gnawed at my chest.

"Sure," the woman agreed amicably. "My name is Odette, by the way," she mentioned off-handedly, the name fitting her voice in a strange way.

"Uh, well," I stammered. "You mentioned it's a herbal medicine shop, you're not selling weed under the counter, are you?" I voiced my worries meekly, hoping for an honest answer.

The woman laughed, a sharp, terse sound. "No, dear, I do not sell or possess anything illegal. I merely offer supplies for the locals that prefer natural, alternative medicine." She sounded jovial.

"Like - um, healing crystals?" I vaguely remembered reading about them on the internet, or seeing them in a YouTube video, perhaps.

"Yes, we sell those, too," her tone grew more joyful at the mention of the shiny rocks. I didn't think that they actually cured anything, to be honest, however I was willing to give it some credit - the placebo effect was a scientific fact. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

"Okay then," I chuckled nervously. "I'm free tomorrow after 3 PM."

"Grand. The shop is open until 10 PM, just say your name at the counter and I'll be right with you."

As soon as I hung up, relief and curiosity and trepidation blossomed within me, imagination unhelpfully supplying images of human trafficking documentaries, basements with chains and other, less horrifying but still unusual things. The pep talk over a wine glass that I had was necessary: it was a herbal shop, for fuck's sake. Worst case, I'm going to work with Karens who think the Earth is flat and quartz cures cancer. I could even get a funny story or two out of those, something to share with Bucky or Wanda in lieu of the usual book quotes I entertain them with.

The day went by smoothly, the café no more and no less busy than usual so after a brief detour back home to put on something that didn't smell like coffee grounds and yeast: comfortable pants and a soft sweater, something that would keep me warm but would not unnecessarily restrict any movement. My good luck charm, a large oval necklace with a shiny gold star in the middle, hung heavily around my neck, providing quiet comfort.

Heart thudding in my chest, I approached the old-style, inconspicuous building, double-checking the address before opening the old, heavy wooden door right at the corner of the building. It was like a movie scene, in a way - the day was overcast, meager sun rays shining through the lead curtain of clouds, the streets were clear and few honks rung out in the far end of block, sending a flock of pigeons into a lazy scatter over the slanted roof. The door creaked softly, the handle cold under my touch, instantly filling my nose with a strong smell of herbs so plentiful, I could not distinguish one from another.

Inside didn't look any less intriguing: the décor was outdated but somehow fitting and homely, high wooden shelves stocked with glass jars and wooden boxes with neatly placed labels on them. The counter was empty - save for a large, golden bell, which I timidly pressed.

The woman who emerged from behind the worn cotton curtains behind the counter most certainly was impressive. Tall and broad, with dark eyebrows and even darker eyes, she critically surveyed me for a moment, making me shiver under her gaze - and then she smiled, revealing rows of pearly white teeth and instantaneously losing the imposing aura around her.

"Um, hi- I'm-" I didn't get to finish my nervous stammering.

She interrupted me with a careless wave of her hand. "Here for the interview. Yes. Welcome, Star," her eyes briefly fell on my necklace while I struggled to swallow the unease.

I hadn't told her my nickname - to be honest, these days, I heard it more often than my given name. People quickly took notice of my love of star-patterned items and teased me relentlessly over it, losing heat only when I calmly went along with it, too used to hearing the same jokes since my early childhood.

Odette motioned me over, parting the curtains to reveal a tiny, but tastefully decorated hall with two doors on each side and a staircase at the far end of it. I followed her into the room on the left, which turned out to be a peculiar sort of office. I thought I noticed an Ouija board in there but wisely kept my mouth shut.

"I live on the floor above the shop so don't go throwing any parties while you're on the job," she remarked playfully, gesturing to a pot of tea. "It's peppermint, does wonders for calming one's demeanor," the gesture was sweet - and very telling.

I wondered if I looked as spooked as I felt. After all, it didn't seem like Odette and her business were fishy in any way, and the décor and atmosphere were quite... Appealing, in a way. Something magical, something belonging in Europe or on a high schooler's Pinterest board. I sipped my tea in-between questions, thinking how maybe, I could actually grow accustomed to this place.

The shopkeeper acted as if I'd already accepted the job and I - well, it's not like I had any other options waiting for me. The pay was more than I expected it to be, for such a small bodega and a part-time shift, and it would help me cover my bills with enough to spare. The customers were said to be mostly regular and undemanding, with a few rare exceptions, and should I need assistance, the owner was always a call and a floor away.

With a considerably lighter heart, I left to pad the damp sidewalk back towards my house. Thankfully, my new workplace was only a short walk away.

The tag list is open until the story is finished. Please use the 'taglist' Google form to request (top of the fic, clickable link).

@mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

#bun writes #practical alchemy #ironstrange x reader #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark fanfiction #stephen strange fanfiction

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weil-weil-lautre · 4 years ago

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By Jonathan Franzen September 8, 2019

“There is infinite hope,” Kafka tells us, “only not for us.” This is a fittingly mystical epigram from a writer whose characters strive for ostensibly reachable goals and, tragically or amusingly, never manage to get any closer to them. But it seems to me, in our rapidly darkening world, that the converse of Kafka’s quip is equally true: There is no hope, except for us.

I’m talking, of course, about climate change. The struggle to rein in global carbon emissions and keep the planet from melting down has the feel of Kafka’s fiction. The goal has been clear for thirty years, and despite earnest efforts we’ve made essentially no progress toward reaching it. Today, the scientific evidence verges on irrefutable. If you’re younger than sixty, you have a good chance of witnessing the radical destabilization of life on earth—massive crop failures, apocalyptic fires, imploding economies, epic flooding, hundreds of millions of refugees fleeing regions made uninhabitable by extreme heat or permanent drought. If you’re under thirty, you’re all but guaranteed to witness it.

If you care about the planet, and about the people and animals who live on it, there are two ways to think about this. You can keep on hoping that catastrophe is preventable, and feel ever more frustrated or enraged by the world’s inaction. Or you can accept that disaster is coming, and begin to rethink what it means to have hope.

Even at this late date, expressions of unrealistic hope continue to abound. Hardly a day seems to pass without my reading that it’s time to “roll up our sleeves” and “save the planet”; that the problem of climate change can be “solved” if we summon the collective will. Although this message was probably still true in 1988, when the science became fully clear, we’ve emitted as much atmospheric carbon in the past thirty years as we did in the previous two centuries of industrialization. The facts have changed, but somehow the message stays the same.

Psychologically, this denial makes sense. Despite the outrageous fact that I’ll soon be dead forever, I live in the present, not the future. Given a choice between an alarming abstraction (death) and the reassuring evidence of my senses (breakfast!), my mind prefers to focus on the latter. The planet, too, is still marvelously intact, still basically normal—seasons changing, another election year coming, new comedies on Netflix—and its impending collapse is even harder to wrap my mind around than death. Other kinds of apocalypse, whether religious or thermonuclear or asteroidal, at least have the binary neatness of dying: one moment the world is there, the next moment it’s gone forever. Climate apocalypse, by contrast, is messy. It will take the form of increasingly severe crises compounding chaotically until civilization begins to fray. Things will get very bad, but maybe not too soon, and maybe not for everyone. Maybe not for me.

Some of the denial, however, is more willful. The evil of the Republican Party’s position on climate science is well known, but denial is entrenched in progressive politics, too, or at least in its rhetoric. The Green New Deal, the blueprint for some of the most substantial proposals put forth on the issue, is still framed as our last chance to avert catastrophe and save the planet, by way of gargantuan renewable-energy projects. Many of the groups that support those proposals deploy the language of “stopping” climate change, or imply that there’s still time to prevent it. Unlike the political right, the left prides itself on listening to climate scientists, who do indeed allow that catastrophe is theoretically avertable. But not everyone seems to be listening carefully. The stress falls on the word theoretically.

Our atmosphere and oceans can absorb only so much heat before climate change, intensified by various feedback loops, spins completely out of control. Some scientists and policymakers fear that we’re in danger of passing this point of no return if the global mean temperature rises by more than two degrees Celsius (maybe more, but also maybe less). The I.P.C.C.—the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change—tells us that, to limit the rise to less than two degrees, we not only need to reverse the trend of the past three decades. We need to approach zero net emissions, globally, in the next three decades.

This is, to say the least, a tall order. It also assumes that you trust the I.P.C.C.’s calculations. New research, described last month in Scientific American, demonstrates that climate scientists, far from exaggerating the threat of climate change, have underestimated its pace and severity. To project the rise in the global mean temperature, scientists rely on complicated atmospheric modelling. They take a host of variables and run them through supercomputers to generate, say, ten thousand different simulations for the coming century, in order to make a “best” prediction of the rise in temperature. When a scientist predicts a rise of two degrees Celsius, she’s merely naming a number about which she’s very confident: the rise will be at least two degrees. The rise might, in fact, be far higher.

As a non-scientist, I do my own kind of modelling. I run various future scenarios through my brain, apply the constraints of human psychology and political reality, take note of the relentless rise in global energy consumption (thus far, the carbon savings provided by renewable energy have been more than offset by consumer demand), and count the scenarios in which collective action averts catastrophe. The scenarios, which I draw from the prescriptions of policymakers and activists, share certain necessary conditions.

The first condition is that every one of the world’s major polluting countries institute draconian conservation measures, shut down much of its energy and transportation infrastructure, and completely retool its economy. According to a recent paper in Nature, the carbon emissions from existing global infrastructure, if operated through its normal lifetime, will exceed our entire emissions “allowance”—the further gigatons of carbon that can be released without crossing the threshold of catastrophe. (This estimate does not include the thousands of new energy and transportation projects already planned or under construction.) To stay within that allowance, a top-down intervention needs to happen not only in every country but throughout every country. Making New York City a green utopia will not avail if Texans keep pumping oil and driving pickup trucks.

The actions taken by these countries must also be the right ones. Vast sums of government money must be spent without wasting it and without lining the wrong pockets. Here it’s useful to recall the Kafkaesque joke of the European Union’s biofuel mandate, which served to accelerate the deforestation of Indonesia for palm-oil plantations, and the American subsidy of ethanol fuel, which turned out to benefit no one but corn farmers.

Finally, overwhelming numbers of human beings, including millions of government-hating Americans, need to accept high taxes and severe curtailment of their familiar life styles without revolting. They must accept the reality of climate change and have faith in the extreme measures taken to combat it. They can’t dismiss news they dislike as fake. They have to set aside nationalism and class and racial resentments. They have to make sacrifices for distant threatened nations and distant future generations. They have to be permanently terrified by hotter summers and more frequent natural disasters, rather than just getting used to them. Every day, instead of thinking about breakfast, they have to think about death.

Call me a pessimist or call me a humanist, but I don’t see human nature fundamentally changing anytime soon. I can run ten thousand scenarios through my model, and in not one of them do I see the two-degree target being met.

To judge from recent opinion polls, which show that a majority of Americans (many of them Republican) are pessimistic about the planet’s future, and from the success of a book like David Wallace-Wells’s harrowing “The Uninhabitable Earth,” which was released this year, I’m not alone in having reached this conclusion. But there continues to be a reluctance to broadcast it. Some climate activists argue that if we publicly admit that the problem can’t be solved, it will discourage people from taking any ameliorative action at all. This seems to me not only a patronizing calculation but an ineffectual one, given how little progress we have to show for it to date. The activists who make it remind me of the religious leaders who fear that, without the promise of eternal salvation, people won’t bother to behave well. In my experience, nonbelievers are no less loving of their neighbors than believers. And so I wonder what might happen if, instead of denying reality, we told ourselves the truth.

First of all, even if we can no longer hope to be saved from two degrees of warming, there’s still a strong practical and ethical case for reducing carbon emissions. In the long run, it probably makes no difference how badly we overshoot two degrees; once the point of no return is passed, the world will become self-transforming. In the shorter term, however, half measures are better than no measures. Halfway cutting our emissions would make the immediate effects of warming somewhat less severe, and it would somewhat postpone the point of no return. The most terrifying thing about climate change is the speed at which it’s advancing, the almost monthly shattering of temperature records. If collective action resulted in just one fewer devastating hurricane, just a few extra years of relative stability, it would be a goal worth pursuing.

#sorry for this essay it's for my #diss #quote #franzen #climate change #archivist #and i don't want to lose the text

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fantranslatorbychoice · 4 years ago

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Kakuriyo no Yadomeshi Volume 6 Chapter 4 - Secret Girls' Night-out

T/N: Hi y’all, it’s me again, it took a bit longer because I did my best to beta-as much as I could, but if it’s still wonky, I apologize, it's not like I get paid to do it lol also it's rather challenging when I had to convert my brain waves from Japanese to English to my native language and however those combinations work just to spew all of these out in sufficiently passable English. So I hope you all don't mind stuff like typos or inconsistencies with the tenses srsly even the original text has that and I just literally gave up evening out the tenses, like really apparently it's no biggie to have an entire paragraph in Japanese that both has past and present tenses (they mostly don't have future tenses) but if that happened in English some would just nitpick that shit out. I mean, yeah, for sure when I do editing and get paid for it I would, but if I'm just reading fanfics from writers who don't have English as their native language I just don't give a hoot, as long as the story's good, to heck with grammar, spelling and syntax. Srsly some non-native EN speakers get turned-off or even scared when nitpickers hit on their imperfect spellings or grammar or dictions, srsly honestly just give them a break, they worked hard to learn another language. I felt this even more so when I started learning Nihongo, like srsly as long as a person gets to say what they want to say even if it's not perfect in anyway, then that's more than enough for me. srsly I am forgiving like that. Also this chapter has more notes than usual, especially regarding Nihongo and stuff, so if you don't like it you can always move along lololol Also I gave up, I'm keeping the titles and roles in Japanese i.e. Odanna-sama, Wakadanna-sama, Bantou-san, etc. I'll just stick in more notes instead lol

Also if you like this translation, you can heart it, share the link, reblog, I just respectfully ask that DO NOT REPOST ELSEWHERE. This is my contribution to the scant English content of this fandom, and I worked really hard to finish this thing, it’s not like I just copy-pasted everything. I even had to build the kanji in Jisho one by one. Try it and you’ll see what I mean.You can rave about this, rant about this, but if possible please link back to this page. If you’re unsure how to do that, just copy the web address of this page. If you’re on a blogsite just insert the web address as a hyperlink as a link back to here. Honestly if this light novel was officially-published in English, I wouldn’t even be doing this right now... And if it did, I’d take this offline to support the publishers and Yuuma-sensei. Creators support creators, is what I believe in. As previously-mentioned in earlier chapters, if you stumbled upon this one, the two seasons of the anime covered volumes 1-5, so other than the extra details, you didn’t miss much stuff. OK, with all of that out of the way, here's Chapter 4 now. P116 "Th... These are... The Southern Lands' cultured Japanese amberjack**... A bundle of Kiseki beef.. And there are so many other local products from the Southern Lands too. Ah, there's even the coconut oil that I always wanted!" So many extravagant ingredients have been hauled into Yugao, and I was flabbergasted by them all. There were also so many cans of various contents as well as dried fish and other products stuffed inside. Canned tuna and other canned stuff were considered as high-end products in Kakuriyo, and I am very grateful. Ginji-san and the Daruma gang from the kitchens delivered a box packed with so many ingredients to Yugao, and we had no idea why. "Well, the Dog said that these are their repayment to our kindness. It's because a while ago, Ranmaru came to Tenjin-ya." "Really, Ranmaru from Orio-ya?" "Hatori-san also came too, with him." In some way, Ginji-san's mood was good. For a while now, his nine fluffy tails were wagging from left to right. "It's from our head accountant Byakuya-san, Aoi-san's rewards for your achievement, and for Tenjin-ya's cooperative business venture and all sorts of other demands that were deemed justifiable, and because they wanted to give other things as a way of expressing their gratitude, they brought in many other souvenirs and products as well. They also exchanged with us various other information." T/N: This is related to tuna fish, but don't ask me how they cultured it. Probably in the open sea, like in sea cages. Yes, that's a thing, and yeah I was also in the fishing industry at some point in time, if you're wondering. Also if you're wondering why I rarely use "you" in the dialogues of the translations, it's because in polite Japanese conversations, instead of saying ANATA or OMAE= you, one's name is mentioned instead. In the original text, when people are talking to each other, rather than say "you" they say the other person's name or occupation + san instead i.e. bengoshi-san= lawyer san, Ginji-san, or if it's a username because they don't like using their true names- USERNAME-san. Because using "you" in any way, shape or form in conversations is deemed rude AF. So the next time you chat with Japanese people, please remember to address them by their name, or occupation, unless you've established rapport with them. I forgot to put this explanation in my earlier posts, but it's one of the most important stuff I learned in my Japanese classes, the Japanese folk won't care so much on grammar but more on being polite and taking care of remembering social status stratification aka just be polite by using polite terms. I actually experienced this first hand after chatting with some of them, they just told me not to use Google translate and just chat with them with whatever I know. They're very grateful when people could talk to them in their native tongue, especially when the honorifics are used. This note's long AF but I did say that I'm gonna drag you all with me in this whole learning Nihongo thing, and I'm doing just that. P117 "That friendly Ranmaru did that? Doesn't he hate Tenjin-ya?" "Hee hee. Well, don't take this too seriously, OK?" Even though saying it that way, I imagined that Ranmaru's horrible words and demeanour were probably due to his circumstances. Orio-ya sees Tenjin-ya as its rival, it's hard to imagine them having an image of humbly bringing over souvenirs. And the business dealings, I wonder what those are...? "Oh that, Ranmaru saw that you had a strong sense of duty. He wanted to particularly express his gratitude to Aoi-san." And thereupon, these ingredients from the Southern Lands. Stuff I rarely get hold of, especially something like that one round amberjack, and I unconsciously grinned. "Even so, if the circumstances allowed, he would have stopped by and said it himself** ..." "It was before Aoi-san's business hours, and Ranmaru is also busy it seems, so he had to go back immediately. Even I wanted to take our time since I thought it was fine, but it can't be helped... Because Ranmaru is the Southern Lands' Hachiyo." "Ha ha. Then what happens next is that if it's possible, Ginji-san will go to Orio-ya, won't he? Nothing's stopping you two from visiting each other now?" "Aoi-san...." Up until recently, Ginji-san and Ranmaru's long sibling feud previously ended sometime ago, and the long-standing so-called inn rivalry and clash between Orio-ya and Tenjin-ya has been cut. T/N: aisatsu=挨拶=greeting, introducing one's self, improving relations by dropping by every now and then, can also mean like popping up to say hi or whatnot. I don't know how to directly translate it since aisatsu has more of a sense of how a supervisor pops up in the work place or a teacher suddenly appears in a class just to check, it's not as informal as a neighbor dropping by the house just to have idle chitchat. Hweh. P118 But after the ceremony, the changed relationship between the two has been noticeable. "Oh, that, I see. Someday soon, I will take a break and go visit him too." "Yeah, I agree, that's great. Oh, I wonder if everyone's doing well... Hatori-san and Tokihiko-san, Hideyoshi and Nene, the cute twin chefs.. And Nobunaga." "It seems that everyone's doing fine. The twins Kai-san and Mei-san, Orio-ya profoundly realized that they're really suited to be chefs, and everyone seems to cheer them on, Hatori-san was still the same as ever, but sometimes he returns to Shumonzan. He says that he bickers with Matsuba-sama as always, but one way or another they've become in good terms with each other." Ginji-san asked Ranmaru, and he told things about Orio-ya's management staff. I see, everyone in each of their own way have been doing their best to move on forward. "Oh, and somehow Hideyoshi-san and Nene-san seems to have been engaged." "Whaaat? Why that fast?" Wait a minute. Hideyoshi knew that Nene-chan has decided, that she likes Ranmaru, wasn't it? But that's what Hideyoshi said... My astonished face must have looked funny, and Ginji-san turned away his face and giggled. "It's surely shocking, isn't it? Why, it's amazing, Hideyoshi was especially honest and manly. P119 I simply cannot..." Ginji-san let out a tiny laugh again. What is it about his old haunting grounds, being delighted at the many changes in Orio-ya? At any rate, I was surprised with Hideyoshi and Nene's engagement. Firstly, congratulations Hideyoshi. You thought that your unrequited love has been going on for so long, it was outside your thoughts early on, but now your love bore its fruit. I'm glad, as I'm rooting for you on from the sides. What the heck, behind my back, how did they get involved in that, that was surprisingly an unusual story, if I meet Nene this time I need to get information from her. "But the when the trustworthy Waka-danna** and Waka-Okami** get married, Orio-ya will surely become peaceful, and Ranmaru will also be pleased. Certainly after the marriage, their organization will grow even stronger. He'll get exhausted if it's just Ranmaru holding everything together." "Isn't Tenjin-ya also reasonably solid?" "I guess, although the position for Waka-Okami easily changes. Originally the person in that position is supposed to only resign once, but right now Kikuno-san has temporarily retired as the Young Mistress and supposed to come back. However, there have been circumstances in her family, and she immediately relinquished her seat as the Waka-Okami." "Ehh, like that?" After showing my disbelief, Ginji-san sadly nodded.

T/N: Waka-danna=young master, Waka-Okami=young mistress P120 "If it comes to that, when a new Waka-Okami doesn't hold the position for very long, we can say that there's a gifted person in Tenjin-ya, and it's only a little issue.** Likewise, during that matter with Orio-ya, we in the management staff really wanted the former Waka-Okami O-ryo san to come back and give it another go. Her abilities are very outstanding." "Even I too... I was shocked to see O-ryo completely doing her job well. Even Nene, one way or another admires her so much." "Yes, I agree. But, oh well... O-ryo-san returning to her former position, it's already a huge chance and a necessity. Right now she's drifting away from supporting her fellow waiters and waitresses, well, O-ryo-san must be intending to. To me, she seems to be enjoying having lesser responsibilities and more carefree in her current position." "Well, that's for sure..." Based on how Ginji-san talked about it, lately it seems that O-ryo has no obsession on the position of Waka-Okami. A little bit until recently, she seems, to have returned the bearing of her Waka-Okami decorum, but lately she's wholly just wanting to eat and eat, when she finally gets some free time she goes to Yugao, and lately has been persisting on going out hunting for marriage partners. However, I could say with confidence that she seems to be taking advantage of being relieved of her position as a Waka-Okami , and surely Tenjin-ya will realize that they need O-ryo's abilities. O-ryo's strength, is diligently doing her duties in that position. "Anyway, Aoi-san. I was preparing and building up the Autumn Festival here in Tenjin-ya at the end of this month, and I was thinking of using pumpkins, is it possible for Yugao to make Autumn foods and sweets for us?" T/N: Honestly double-triple negatives are a pain in the ass, srsly it's like inception to the nth power, I had trouble deciphering this line and almost this entire page in the original text so if it doesn't make sense, meh, I did my best within my current abilities. P121 "Pumpkin? Of course. It's gonna be fun, like Halloween." "Oh, right! There's a foreign festival called Halloween in Utsushiyo, but I thought it's impossible to recreate that here in in Kakuriyo, though I could imagine it to be made into a Pumpkin Festival." "Oh, not at all, we can make that same Halloween theme here because Tenjin-ya is mostly full of Ayakashi." A Japanese Halloween that doesn't use costumes... "But certainly, this year's pumpkins are delicious, so Pumpkin Festival sounds good, doesn't it? It's also a great idea to give out candies to our young guests." "We can probably decorate with paper lanterns and pumpkins too. We can place ogre-fire inside, and make them float all around Tenjin-ya." "Wow! That's very much like Utsushiyo's Halloween!" Why, the Autumn Festival goes well with the Pumpkin Event and our imaginations ran wild. "Also, Aoi-san. Pumpkins are not Odanna-sama's favorite." "..." Abruptly, the topic on Odanna-sama popped up, and I stiffened a bit. Some days ago, we came back from the orchard park date. I remembered being hugged in the airship's deck...** "How are you feeling, Aoi-san? Why is your face all red?" T/N: **insert lenny face here** You can't stop me wahahaha P122 "Hm? Oh, it's nothing, this is nothing. Odanna-sama not liking pumpkins, I wonder if I somehow asked that before..." "Oh, right. I saw that Odanna-sama often puts a lot of his boiled pumpkins in Byakuya-san's small bowl." "...really, isn't Odanna-sama unbelievable?" "Yes, he is. I don't know when Byakuya-san patience will end, but I want Odanna-sama to overcome his distaste for pumpkins." "You're right. His pickiness for food would not end... In this event I will feed Odanna-sama with the pumpkin cuisines I wanted him to try..." I haven't yet known what Odanna-sama likes, but I know what food he doesn't like. It wasn't at all regretable to make fun of Odanna-sama, but this time I got surprised. "Aoi-sama-- Manjuu-steaming has been finished!" Ai-chan's face suddenly popped out of the kitchen. She seemed to have established her affairs in Hyakumeyama, and she has changed her appearance to that which she made herself. Her time before returning to the pendant is still short, but she's working hard right now as a newly-hired employee. "You were steaming manjuu**? I thought I was smelling something good." "Yeah. Just a while ago Dr. Saraku was asked by Tenjin-ya to do some manufacturing trials for a new souvenir product.** T/N: Steamed bread with bean jam filling. They’re really good, try them when you can!

when I write souvenir product, it's translated from omiyage=お土産= something that you take home for your friends or family when you go have fun somewhere like a national park or a museum or amusement park. Like when you buy takeaways - T-shirts, food, keychains, etc. and bring them home or something. Is there an English equivalent for this? Because I don't know. In my native language we have an equivalent, well, for most Asian languages I guess. Don't know about others though.. Hm.... korewa....*inhales* O_O

P123 "We're still only in the middle of improving it, but once we're done we want Ginji-san to be the very first to try them out." "Wah, that sounds fun. When Byakuya-san saw the special products from Orio-ya, he also also saw the need for Tenjin-ya to make new specialties and other famous products, and he's going to be considerably sensitive about it." "Uhm.... But we have no confidence to meet that expectation..." If we couldn't get to sell all of the products that we made, what will we do if Tenjin-ya gets struck greatly by that? What will we do if Tenjin-ya's status and popularity crashes down? With regards to that, we had to think very hard. For Yugao as a small establishment it is a challenge, and the pressure feels a bit different. "It's alright. With regards to hit products, through time and through fads, luck always has a greater control. To me, the only thing needed by Dr. Saraku are failures no matter how many times, in his division. That is why it is important to fail when tackling new challenges." ".. Ginji-san..." "Because I think, we become stronger, don't we?" Ginji-san's relieving smile is so bright, even today it's promising. Having his support, for today as well, I will work harder for Yugao's business operations. P124 The next day, around noon. Tomorrow Tenjin-ya will be closed for a break. Since today Tenjin-ya's business operations will end and all shall check out at the same time, everyone's waiting to be free of work. Today, Yugao also has no business transactions, so tonight I was making up my mind to call all of the ladies to make hotpot. I was thinking of calling out all about to all the members who could attend, I only need to walk to the inner garden. "Oh, it's Kasuga." I noticed Kasuga first. On the other side of the log bridge, she was under the ginko tree. I was about to call out "Hey Kasuga--" but she seems to be talking to someone and I stopped. Behind the base of the ginko tree whose yellow leaves were slightly changing color, what the... Kasuga is usually cheerful but her face now weirdly has this blank expression. "Isn't that..." Beside her, it was Chiaki-san, the doorman in charge of the footwear. A Bake-Tanuki like Kasuga. Normally he doesn't get involved with her much deeply, but this time their dialogues seem to be at a crossroads. I thought that the young man was humble and modest, somehow trying his best to look cool, but somehow he is speaking to Kasuga with a harsh expression, the atmosphere doesn't seem good in there, the impression is very different from the usual funny and light. What is up with those two. These two were different from how I knew them. "Oh, Aoi-chan." P125 From far away, Kasuga noticed me, her Tanuki ears popped up, and rushed towards me. "Aoi-chan, are you going to the main building?" "Ehhhrm, yeah. That was weird, seeing the two of you." "You think so? Chiaki is my relative you know. We were just talking." "Oh, I see..." I don't understand but, I wonder what's normal for those two. "Speaking of, Kasuga, tonight, uhm, won't you come to Yugao after work?" "To Yugao? To make me eat food?" "Yeah. I was thinking of actually holding a ladies-only hotpot banquet. I'll set up the kotatsu, and there's also mountain apple liquor. Let's have a girls' night-out once in a while." "Girls night-out..." Kasuga said "That sounds so much fun" with a wicked Tanuki face. I wonder if she's recalling amusing stories she got out of everyone. "I was thinking of calling O-ryo and Shizuna-chan too. I'm going out to meet them now." "If you say so, I'll go tell them. I'm roommates with Shizuna-chan, and I'm assigned to the banquet hall with O-ryo sama." P126 "Oh, is it OK to ask? Sorry about that." "It's fine, it's like the usual running of errands." Smiling like a beast, Kasuga nimbly dashed away. Under the deep autumn air that feels cold, her fluffy Tanuki tail swings left to right. "..." Looking back at the ginko tree, Chiaki-san the chief doorman wasn't there anymore. I wonder what the two talked about. He seemed to have casually listened to the girls night-out plan. The strong mountain apple liquor, lend me your strength... "Aoi-dono" "Wah, Sasuke-kun!" Without warning, Sasuke-kun the O-niwaban fell down beside me. He has a long scarf hanging down his neck, ninja-style from sunrise to sunset. Normally, during the day he usually wears a monk's robe as he sweeps the garden. "What's up? Something happened during work?" "I am patrolling around. Lately, there has been some disturbances." "Well, tomorrow the inn will have its break, it must be difficult. Are you hungry?" "Ah, my stomach is..." P127 Grrrrrmmmmm. Sasuke-kun's hungry stomach made some noise. "My stomach is probably hungry..." "Hee hee. When your duties are done, while on break come to Yugao. We received a lot from Orio-ya, blessings from the sea. The Southern Lands were also grateful to Sasuke-kun, would you want anything?" "Is that true?" Sasuke-kun always had a cool expression, but when it comes to food his eyes sparkle with joy, like a child's. Realizing that he's let out his enthusiasm, he cleared his throat and hid his mouth with the scarf while saying "Well then, until later," and he disappeared into the wind. Sasuke-kun is just as always very earnest, it's adorable. "Nevertheless, some disturbance..." I heard about that by accident, recently. The disturbance, it's shady, things don't look good, among other things. I was working and doing my best in Yugao, and whatever lurks up in my surroundings I don't notice anything at all. But, at the moment I don't know about the things that have started happening, and I got more anxious and worried. P128 Today is a secret girls; night-out, no guys allowed. It's going to happen after Yugao's working hours, a hotpot party will be opened for the ladies of Tenjin-ya. Today it's not at Yugao, the venue will be at my room at the back, and I will bring out the kotatsu. Tonight's dinner will be amberjack shabu-shabu. We'll make a light konbu/kelp dashi amberjack shabu-shabu from the many seafoods from Orio-ya. "We'll use the top shelf kelp to make the konbu dashi for the seafoods of the Southern Lands. It's a hotpot filled with crunchy mustard greens and thinly-sliced daikon, Welsh onions and enoki mushrooms, I'm going to fill it with amberjack as much as I want." "OK--- Let's eat!" Despite it being after work, the ladies' eyes will get fired up. I wonder if that's the case when they get hungry after working hours. I immediately placed in the fatty slices of amberjack in the hotpot's boiled konbu dashi, and let it cook. I will add in here some ponzu for that single tingly flavor.** "Ahhh, what is this luxury. It's been a while since I had amberjack shabu-shabu..." "O-ryo sama, eat the vegetables too. Adding the thinly-sliced daikon makes this a shabu-shabu." "Alright, I get it..." O-ryo just ate only the amberjack, and Kasuga sneakily added in the vegetables. She also placed some of the boiled enoki, and placed a lot of the dashi along with the fish slices, placing all of these together she took a bite. T/N: Sour-tasting soups are best with fatty meats and fish, so I'd get that Aoi would do this to cut the fat and make the shabu-shabu taste even better and also to cut the fat and greasy feels. P129 The two closed their eyes in contentment. Certainly, when the raw amberjack was cooked over a flame, the entire flavor of the fish changes. Instantly the soft slices of amberjack became tough, and over that ponzu was added, this was entirely different when eaten as sashimi or with pickles, it can be an enjoyable, extravagant yet healthy food. Well, not really, it's just the season to eat hotpot deliciously. "Speaking of, what time is Shizuna-chan coming?" "The bath hours haven't ended yet, I think she'll come over after fixing and cleaning up the bath houses. She's the only one from the management staff, and she has to stay in her working area up until the end of business hours." "Oh, yeah. I see. Shizuna-chan is part of the management staff." I lightly glanced at O-ryo. O-ryo was a former management staff member, but she seems to be unaffected by my words. It seems that the person in question enjoys whatever working position she's in right now, and is drinking carbonated water as well as the mountain apple liquors equally. Somewhat it's like being that annoying single office-lady... "Perhaps I should say it- did you know? Orio-ya's Nene is married to their Waka-danna?" "No, aren't they just engaged? It seems like that for the time being, before getting married?" P130 Uhm, Kasuga and I looked at each other. But O-ryo wasn't listening. "Hmmph. That young girl, she'll be suffering so much marrying so young. That Waka-danna called Hideyoshi, that tiny squirt, he'll noisily scold her." "You think so? I've seen that Hideyoshi, he seems good enough. Well, he is pretty noisy. But he seems to like Nene very much, I think it's wonderful that he got his feelings through." I feel like an aunty who's earnestly chatting away about her relatives. If I could talk about it better, those two make a cute, tiny couple. "Gah! Enough chatting about a guy's love for some girl! I am not interested in the happiness of other people!" With a thud, O-ryo slapped her empty wine glass on the kotatsu. "Ahhhh, O-ryo sama don't start complaing about envying other people..." As always, Kasuga started telling her off with her "good grief!" pose. "I'm sorry I'm late--" A breath of fresh air, Shizuna-chan has joined the party.** Shizuna-chan takes care of the bath houses and bears the task of keeping them in order, and is Tenjin-ya's sole management staff for that purpose. "Shizuna, you're late! The battle has already started!" T/N: well the transliteration of the original text was "Shizuna-chan has arrived in the battlefield", but I think this has the same feel, from RPGs honestly IDK anymore lol anyways IMO food parties are always a battlefield so wth it's the same gahaha P131 "Ah, yes--? I'm sorry, ehhh, a battle?" After that, even if O-ryo was just a waitress who glared at her instantly, Shizuna-chan humbly apologized. It seemed that she had no idea what O-ryo meant with her words of choice. Shizuna-chan brought a box for us, filled with so many delicious sweets.This seemed delicious to eat as dessert. "Shizuna-chan, come sit beside me. Say, do you like amberjack shabu-shabu?" Shizuna-chan rarely visits here. I did my best to take care of whatever she needs. "Well, it has been a while since I had some amberjack shabu-shabu, how nostalgic..." "Oh, right. When you were young, you were a staff at Orio-ya. During that time, did you ate a lot?" "Yes, it was my favorite. Shishou-sama** made a lot of it for me..." Talking while bashfully fidgeting, Shizuna-chan started to eat with a lot of etiquette. Suddenly, O-ryo started looking at Shizuna-chan like a sister-in-law. "I say, uhm, Shizuna? There's someone in Orio-ya like you, who's also nice and has good vibes?" "Yes? A person with good vibes?" "Hey, weren't you explicitly pursued here in Tenjin-ya? Who was it.... That guy who looks withered up, called Tokihiko. You like someone who looks bitter and glum, don't you? It's illogical and unadult-like. Don't think that somehow you're under the shadow of that guy.. *hic*" T/N: I don't know how to call the main artist or the one who takes in a lot of disciples or students or apprentices so this is the next best thing, I guess? I mean, it’s directly translated as Master=師匠-Shishou, but it can mean other stuff, not just like sensei though. P132 "Oh, uhm.. that.. Shishou-sama.... he is uhm..." Shizuna-chan's face started blushing, like she had some beer or whatnot. Once that conversation was started, she immediately got perplexed. "Wait a minute, O-ryo! Shizuna-chan just started eating, don't ask her such direct questions, her throat might block off the shabu-shabu." "You're loud Aoi! Shut up, what's more important than looks are the uses**, you crazed-cook!" "What the.." Whom on earth did she think this hotpot party was prepared for? When O-ryo drinks liquor, she always blurts out unapologetic things. "Haaahhh... Aoi may be crazy about cooking, but in the end, eventually she'll get married to Odanna-sama... He'll pick up an excessively-expensive palanquin for you, you won't understand how miserable I am..." "What the heck are you saying... I'm doing my best to avoid being his fiancee." "But Aoi-chan, didn't you and Odanna-sama went out, and you were away for more than a night?" "Hold up, Kasuga, it's a weird, story, it can't be helped. We were captured by the mountain's Kaku-zaru." "Ah, but.. Odanna-sama pulled you out of a pinch, didn't that made you have a change of heart? Or some progress?"

T/N: hanayoridango=function before looks, like buying food first before buying flowers, yeah that’s the literal meaning of the phrase. P133 "...what?" A while ago Shizuna-chan got asked the same kind of questions. Suddenly, the three girls gazed at me. What the, what's up with their eyes, those three? They look like hyenas having an eye on their prey. "I.. I didn't mean it that way! Uhmm... Odanna-sama just.. gives his all as he saves me..." Speaking of progress, what on earth is progressing right now? My first-hand experiences weren't much, and even using those as my basis, I still don't understand. In the end, somehow despite never having an idea on what occurred, the warmth I felt when I was hugged just abruptly pops back again into my mind, and ultimately my face remains blushing, as I chattered and gritted my teeth in silence. I really don't understand this, I wonder... what is this feeling? "What the heck is that..?" "Yeah, what gives? It's weird, Aoi-chan's face is so red, why is that?" I could hear Kasuga and Shizuna-chan somewhat breaking the silence with their hushed conversations. "OK--- that's enough talking about sweethearts and whatnot-- That's every last one of them--" "Yeah, I heard you, I heard you!" O-ryo had enough of the topic already, and she rolled down into the kotatsu with an angry and dead-drunk expression. She probably got one-punched...** T/N: Yeah I feel you O-ryo, when everyone has some special someone and you're the lonely third wheel I mean, I can't blame you girl, I really can't. It's worse than getting one-punched by Saitama, but... Still lol tho sry my bad P134 "O-ryo sama, with that middle-aged man attitude such as yours, you'll miss your chances of getting married." "Kasuga? With the romance that a little girl-chama like you would know, wouldn't have an idea on what love is like, there's no such thing as an immediate fated encounter. Really esteemed women like me, wouldn't have to rush in choosing.There's no leeway for mistakes--" "Yeah, yeah. But regarding myself, I have a first love..." "What, that story about when you were young? Yeah, yeah, sure, that story that smells of inexperience is good enough. Kasuga, go pour me some more.." "Y-yes... Good grief..." The esteemed woman bully lied down again. And as the junior poured more liquor for her, she drank heartily, again. "But Kasuga, speaking of that, during the day, I saw you being with the Gesokuban** Chiaki-san. What on earth were you two chatting about?" "....uhm..." I suddenly remembered it, and without thinking I asked. Kasuga's facial expression slightly changed. "Reallyyyyy?! What the, Kasuga is with that Chiaki?!" Hearing that topic, O-ryo suddenly bolted upright. She kicked her legs inside the kotatsu, and Shizuna-chan let out a tiny, pained "ouch". "What is it, O-ryo?" "Chiaki may look sloppy and gaudy, but so many waitresses are eyeing on him. Not only does his face look good,

T/N: Gesokuban=下足番= doorman in charge of the footwear, normally in Japanese inns or hotels the footwear are kept outside the halls to prevent dirt from coming in. I think elsewhere in the world this is a practice, there’s a thing called indoor and outdoor slippers or shoes. P135 but being a Gesokuban, he's pretty much a member of the management staff. If he gets married, it's easy to dominate him. That's what I understand from hearing other people. Kasuga, he's also your type?" "...what are you talking about, O-ryo sama? Chiaki is my Uncle. Simply put, my father's younger brother.**" "Whaaa... Really?" Everyone got shocked. Everyone in here seemed to be unaware of that fact. Kasuga went "Uh-oh". Her face spelled out "I shouldn't have said that." "It's probably due to this liquor.. I may have said too much..." Kasuga was scratching an itch on her temple. Taking the opportunity, Shizuna-chan suddenly seemed to have remembered something. "Speaking of that... Kasuga is taking a long vacation to go back to her parents' home, and at the same time, Chiaki-san probably won't we working too, isn't it? Could it possibly be that, he's going home with you?" Somehow, a lot of suspicions and doubts started rising up, and Kasuga started clamoring and wailing. "Geez... stop it already! What I told you is already enough! More importantly, hotpot! Look, the mustard greens and onions, and the tofu had all boiled down.The umami of the vegetables and the amberjack have already dissolved into this precious konbu dashi, and it's considerably better now. Aoi-chan, how are we going to divide this?" With dexterity, Kasuga started distributing the contents of the hotpot into smaller bowls, but I was still determined to press information out of her. This girl is pushily taking charge over the hotpot... T/N: I don't know about you guys, but in some families due to the age gaps between the siblings, some of the nieces and nephews ar more closer in age to their aunts and uncles than the aunts and uncles have to the children's parents. I was actually raised by an elder cousin, and her eldest brother was around the age of my father, so yeah, I could understand how this whole thing with Kasuga goes. P136 "Ok, with this, it's definitely udon!" "Udon!" "Yeah let's do that" Shizuna-chan gratefully put her hands together, and O-ryo's sparkling eyes were on standby. Immediately, the udon balls were brought in, and these were dunked into the deliciously-filled dashi stock. After boiling it down, we only had to wait for the noodles to absorb the flavors. "By the way, you all, what do you think of the single guys in Tenjin-ya?" "Yes?" "Do you have anything funny about them to talk about?" While O-ryo poured some newly-opened liquor, she drunkenly pushed the question at me. This woman, sets herself aside and starts gossiping about Tenjin-ya's male army. "First of, let's start with Akatsuki. That guy's the youngest male in the management staff, he may have a promising future, surely being young his composure isn't yet enough, I think. Well, in desperate times I could say that he's adorable, but he's the type that holds grudges, and it's not a good thing that he easily snaps out. For certain, I think he doesn't have a girl." "It seems that O-ryo sama has a problem with the Bantou** -sama snapping out at her words and deeds, don't you?" "Shut up Kasuga--" "Owwwww" T/N:Bantou=番頭=head clerk, or the head receptionist

P137 O-ryo pulled out Kasuga's cheeks. Kasuga's cheeks stretched out so much. "Akatsuki-san's face is a bit scary, but he is a hard-working employee, in my opinion. But, well... I'm not interested in someone younger than me..." "That's right Shizuna, you have an older guy fetish don't you?" "Yeah, the guy has been living for 500 years now, yes..." Shizuna-chan just casually blurted out that she wasn't interested in Akatsuki. She's probably a bit drunk. She's drinking the mountain apple liquor on the rocks... "Akatsuki, you say... When I met him he shouted like he was going to kill me, that guy gave me the impression that he was the worst but... Now I think he's a really good chap. One way or another way though, he's not someone who likes taking care of others. I remember her younger sister.." That child** comes here to Yugao, his eyes may look evil but he's a caring person. Surely, I think that he's concerned about troubling his younger sister Suzuran and grandpa, among others. "Oh, and by the way..." At this point, Kasuga secretly pulled out a notebook and started telling us the stuff that she wrote. What the... What the heck, that is scary. "According to my research, the Bantou-sama doesn't have a woman's touch on him. He's aloof, and he easily and earnestly gets resentful. It also seems that despite the lady waitresses asking him out to have fun, he always doesn't go with them." "As expected..." T/N: the term Yuuma-sensei used for Akatsuki is mame=マメ=bean, but can also mean a child, a little person, etc. Honestly it's not wrong, Akatsuki is an actual precious bean IMO lol protect that spider bean lelz P138 "But that guy, a little girl once invited him to play with her..." Surprisingly, I thought this was a bit rude. Most likely, Akatsuki is sneezing a lot right now. "Wah, udon, udon--" Finally, the udon has been boiled enough. Everyone started putting udon on their bowls. "Gahh... This is it. The udon to finish the hotpot."** "Cooking this in the dashi makes it yummier, doesn't it?" The udon has surely absorbed the umami and the fatty flavors of the amberjack. I added the refreshing taste of the Sudachi Ponzu in mine. This went smoothly down the throat, and this perfectly wraps up the the meal. No, I mean, this is a work of art. "Hey Aoi, you only drank one glass of the liquor? You go drink some more..." "Sorry but, I dont drink more than a cup. Previously, drinking made my eyes hurt when I look at things." A cup of that liquor tastes great. But I dread getting drunk if I drink more than my limit. But everyone was just drinking heartily, so I guess it's fine. The mountain apple liquor also has another nickname, it's called "Easy Bandit-Killer". "Well then, next is the Waka-danna sama's turn" O-ryo continued the conversation where we previously left off. "Waaat? Even Ginji-san?! But.. Isn't Ginji-san perfect? No, a perfect Youkai? I couldn't find any fault with him." T/N: Just in case you're wondering how this works, it's rather easy.. After eating all of the ingredients in the Japanese hotpot, like taking out the veggies and meat, there's a lot of soup left. It's easier to just drink the soup but in Japan, they add stuff to help it go down easy. Choices are either noodles or rice, and the young ones love putting the noodles in. It actually tastes good either way, but I prefer noodles. I think in Persona 5 they also had this same dilemma lol Also yeah Ginji is just the ball, perfect ball of fur lol but he also has this shadowy and mysterious side so if you want a dude of mystery, Ginji's your man gahahaha P139 "Eh. You don't understand, Aoi. Seeing no faults or imperfections is that person's shortcoming-" An adultish smile floating up her face, O-ryo started spinning her glass around. "Waka-danna sama is, well, fanstastic. When you look at him he's handsome, he is well-mannered, and is skillful at his job." "Yeah I get that. He's very sweet, and he always lends a hand... But for sure, Ginji-san seems to have no interests in romantic relationships..." Even I haven't unraveled the reasons to why Ginji-san is still single. But I'm not surprised that he's well-liked. "Oh, well, based on what O-ryo-san was saying, Ginji-sama has no chink in his armor, doesn't he? When a little girl couldn't get any confidence from everyone and has to hold it together by herself, when that perfect Ginji-sama sees that person, his voice would probably not break so easily." "The Waka-danna sama isn't a greedy type, but look, what Aoi-chan is saying is that the Waka-danna seems to have no hobbies or interests. Aoi-chan doesn't understand how, but among the employees he seems to be the type that only admires one person. In that case, his attraction for this one girl could unfortunately end. And she won't be pursued relentlessly." Oh, I get it... Shizuna-chan and Kasuga pointed this out, and I could understand it better. "But after that thing with Orio-ya, somehow the air around the Waka-danna sama has changed, didn't it? T/N: OK I just translated from Japanese what I'd say if I was fan-girling over Ginji, srsly arrrghhh does a guy like this exist? I'd want the extra tails and the transformation powers but I'm OK without those as long as he's into romantic stuff.. Does he? Does he not? I don't know yet lol are there any Ginji fan-fams here too lololol P140 I heard it from the lady waitresses that aren't easy to talk to. That person, he has undoubtedly became likeable. And then, the Waka-danna sama, didn't he take care of you in your condition?" "..." With a wicked face, O-ryo was testing me with her words. But to me, up until now I think that Ginji-san is likeable, and in that case it's not even a joke. He hardly comes to Yugao now, and because of that it's gotten lonely... "On another point, among the Waka-danna sama's nine tails, the third one below, from the right seems to be the most unique.That is somehow a weak spot." "Kasuga, how did you know such information?" It's scary... Kasuga's information is creepy. Even though she's drunk the power of her research skills scared all of us. "Well then... Choubachou** Byakuya-sama--" "O-ryo, don't you dare take another step over there--" We suddenly exercised caution with Byakuya-san. If we speak rudely of him, we feel like we're going to get cursed.** "I honestly couldn't remember a time when he got angry..." "Me either..." "Me too..." T/N: OK so my bad, Byakuya’s supposed position ranges from accounting to reception, but I just previously translated his position as head accountant because it’s what I got before. But he’s more or less the chief of management operations, which includes accounting. Anyway... Hey, I mean, if Byakuya can kick Raijuu's ass then it's justifiable that Byakuya is always in a sour mood, and it's bad to talk about him rudely. Raijuu's a pain in the ass for sure. Arrrgh P141 In the end, this girls' group had nothing more to say. We shuddered when we remembered stuff, and inside the kotatsu we all curled up. Though we were only just talking about him, his pressure on us made us feel defeated even in here. "H.. However, Byakuya-sama stealthily spoils the pipe cats living at the back of the mountain..." "Kasuga, nobody knows about that yet. Don't talk about it, if that gets leaked out we'll get killed." Well, in short, Byakuya-sama pours all of his love to the pipe cats. "Geez, we've wrapped out heads too much on these puzzles, and my hands have lost all feeling. Like Odanna-sama, he also exists above the clouds." "That's because Byakuya-sama is Odanna-sama's good old wife." O-ryo and Kasuga opened the box that Shizuna-chan brought for us, and while munching on these they were sloppily chatting. "Good old wife?" Isn't Byakuya-san a guy? as I tilted my head. "Since long ago, he has assisted in the running of Tenjin-ya. Odanna-sama is able to go here and there freely for work, and Byakuya-sama was staying in Tenjin-ya and presides over it. He has long been in good terms with Odanna-sama, and Byakuya-sama could readily and frankly give out his opinions to him." Come to think of it, before Odanna-sama and I went out, him and Byakuya-san were talking about something one way or the other. P142 In that case, other than the other employess and executives, nobody sees it like an older wife giving encouragement to her husband. "And for sure, when the Oo-Okami** sama isn't here, Byakuya-sama also takes in that role as well, doesn't he?" "Oo-Okami?" Shizuna-chan was drinking the last drop of the sweet liquor, she was reminded of her old home and started talking. "Ougondouji-sama is currently residing in Orio-ya. Previously, Ougondouji-sama was asked to be the Oo-Okami. She holds the same position and rank as Odanna-sama, therefore ever since Ougondouji-sama left Tenjin-ya,the position has been vacant." "Oh, I see... If that's so, with regards to that old tale, I have asked Ginji-san about that." And with that, Byakuya-san also holds the position of Oo-Okami. "Haaaahhh... That weird chat about the Oo-Okami has been a bit too much already." "O-ryo sama, didn't you tell me back then that you'd focus intently on becoming Oo-Okami ,once upon a time?" "Shut up Kasuga! It's a harsh fact that I have to live with!" With O-ryo and Kasuga's conversation, my ears grew eager to listen. "But isn't that.. O-ryo already has no interest with the Waka-Okami position?" "Whaaat? Aoi, you're asking that question? Did't I tell you that I won't get into the position of Waka-Okami again?" T/N: Oo-Okami, Mistress of the House, or something, like the big lady boss.

P143 "R..Really?" "It's fine, really it is. My enthusiastic, indomitable personality is dead. I want to enjoy living a carefree life. I plan to marry a rich guy, then immediately stop working--" "..." Somehow, the atmosphere became tense. Could it be possible that, among all the people in here right now, we're all thinking that O-ryo didn't really want to give up that position? Especially Kasuga, she was shell-shocked, and her face looked troubled. I felt that the mood has changed, so I tapped my fist in my hand. "Oh, right, right. I brought some large-sized grapes from the fruit orchard park, and I made some grape tarts. Let's eat some? I added a lot of grapes on it, it's a custard cream dessert." "Kasstard? OK OK let's eat--" It seems that nobody understood what I meant, but everybody nodded their heads excitedly. Grape tart. I made the crust with the coconut oil from Orio-ya and baked it, and by adding the large grapes called Daishisui that I gathered with Odanna-sama yesterday, the tart looks like a sparkly jewelry box. On top of the crust, I laid down an easily-made custard cream made of Cassowary egg and some wheat flour, with cow's milk and a bit of sugar, P144 and these buried the grapes cut in halves, which I later baked in the oven. After baking this for a while, I topped everything with raw grapes and pure cream. These were arranged as such because the tightly-packed grapes beneath this layer cannot be seen. "Woooooow!" Those dynamic-seeing eyes, everyone's eyes were sparkling. I sliced the large tart in front of everyone, and when the neatly-arranged grapes were cut through, Shizuna-chan let out a regretful-sounding "Awww".** There wasn't any fork, we used kuromoji, special wooden chopsticks** normally used for Japanese sweets or just ate them using our bare hands. "Uwahhh this is juicy-- What is this, I thought this food has raw grapes, but this tastes is like it was meant to be a baked dessert!" "This is the first time I ate something that tastes like this, but the grapes' sweetness stands out, it's really delicious--" O-ryo eating with her hands and Shizuna-chan using a kuromoji, they fell into a trance like typical ladies who love sweets. "This is generally called a fruit tart, and with the rich taste of the eggs in the custard cream, it blends well with the sweet and sour freshness of the fruits, and together these really bring about the best-tasting combination. The sweetness gets reduced, and the sourness becomes mild." As I was explaining how the mild taste came about, Kasuga haven't taken a single bite of the grape tart, and while propping her chin with her hand, she was observing it quietly. T/N: Lol I feel you Shizuna-chan, I feel the same when a freshly-bought ice cream tub looks so neat I don't wanna cut through it lol that's why ASMR of perfectly arranged anything are famous bahaha

Kuromoji=黒文字= Japanese sweets are eaten traditionally by using tiny wooden chopsticks, to cut and skewer them. You can check them out via search engine or smth P145 "What is it, Kasuga? Don't tell me, you don't like grapes?" "Hmm? No, it's not like that.. I really love grapes. That dessert you called tart, I was thinking of something." Kasuga ate held tart like it was a hard cookie, and bit on it heartily despite doubting what it was, before chewing on it. She filled her cheeks with the grapes, the custard, and the fragrant crust. "Mmmm, I wanted to eat some more. The grapes are heavy, and they burst in my mouth." Just a while ago we were enjoying some amberjack shabu-shabu, but we still had room for dessert, and all of the girls ate as much of the grape tart to their hearts' content. "Aoi-dono--" In that moment, came a boy's voice that can be heard from inside Yugao. "It's Sasuke-kun. I told him that I was going to give him something to eat after his working hours." The three ladies around me went "It's.. Sasuke-kun?", and they looked at me from the side. "Say, Aoi, tell Sasuke-kun to come here too." "Really? Even if today's a no-guys-allowed girls' night-out, it's OK to call him in?" "Yes, it's totally OK. Sasuke-kun is an adorable and good boy." "..." Even though there was a nagging feeling, I went outside of Yugao and called out to Sasuke-kun. "Sasuke-kun, thank you for your hard work. We were just having a hotpot party inside but, P146 I'll also add something for you, OK?" "Hotpot, is it? Is it because it has already gotten a bit cold?" "Come in. Everyone's waiting for you. I'll go and prep up." "I understand." Sasuke-kun unknowingly trudged toward the innermost room, and opened the door. "?!" No sooner than opening the door. Sasuke-kun the ninja couldn't react fast enough, and he was dragged into the room. "Gyaaaaahhh! Aoi-dono, Aoi-dono---" Sasuke-kun, the innocent and sweet Sasuke-kun, he was preyed upon by the ladies starved of men. "I- I'm sorry, Sasuke-kun. I'll make you a delicious hotpot, OK?" I feel guilty that he gets harassed, and using another earthen pot I added dashi stock, vegetables and the amberjack slices, and hurriedly went towards the innermost room. Please, please let Sasuke-kun be OK! "..." Sasuke-kun was already pestered by the drunken ladies, here and there he was grumbling being urged to drink liquor, P147 his hair has been tousled and his scarf stretched out, it was horrible, but he was being coddled and spoiled. "Aoi-dono--" Poor Sasuke-kun, he was crying out of fear. He was unprotected, and the swarming girls were getting their fill, it was another shabu-shabu over the kotatsu setting. They're feeding him too much. While he's eating delicious food, I will protect Sasuke-kun.

Despite the determination of that bunch, just like turning off a lamp, the girls suddenly collapsed.

Zzzz.... The effects of the mountain liquor came at last, and the intense sleepiness has struck. "Aoi-dono.. What on earth, were you doing here?" "Hmm? It's a secret girls' night-out, Sasuke-kun." "Secret girls' night-out..."

It's really too much to handle drunkeness. The true intents and personalities of the girls, were hidden and unseen, in this empty room these must not get out. Everything that they spewed out, they'll probably forget in the morning. And that was the so-called, girls' night-out.

End of Chapter 4, Volume 6. Previous - Intermission 1 Next - Intermission 2

References:

Wonderful site for the youkai references

Other stuff I used to do this: Kodansha Kanji Learner’s Dictionary (you can buy here, I’m not sponsored btw). I was about to buy the older edition but then the newer one came out 2013 so I bought that instead. Worth buying since I was able to find nearly all of the words I needed just by stroke pattern alone.

Merriam-Webster's Japanese-English Dictionary (the red-covered 1996 version is apparently out of print right now). This is what I have been using for a very long time, I bought it when I was still a fetus (yes I am old so what lol), and after so many years, when compared to newer editions, I still prefer this one since its entirety is Japanese-English, the English to Japanese gloss are just 16 pages tops, so you get more Japanese words for your buck. But that’s just my opinion, maybe other people prefer the Jap-En x En-Jap IDEK.

Basic online dictionary, Jisho. Knowledge of verb conjugations and other words are necessary since not all have entries.

If you can read Japanese, you can buy the whole set in Amazon Japan, they’re shipping worldwide now, I think.

#kakuriyo no yadomeshi #kakuriyo no yadomeshi light novel #kakuriyo no yadomeshi english fan translation #kakuriyo no yadomeshi volume 6 chapter 4 #kakuriyo no yadomeshi volume 6 chapter 4 english fan translation

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rjzimmerman · 4 years ago

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I had a long conversation this morning with my broker about this topic. I haven’t directly invested in any part of the fossil fuel industry and its associated bits and pieces for about ten years. But when I buy investment funds, sometimes I will be invested, indirectly, in that industry because I don’t have the resources (or the time) to check every investment in those funds. So I’m guilty, because of that. He was telling me about some of his clients who are “mad” at Biden because he wants to get rid of fossil fuels. My answer: yep, and why are those investors so tied up in their shorts about that? So what...invest in something else. His answer: because those old timers always invested in utilities and oil and the “old dog new tricks” rule applies. Again....so what.

Excerpt from this story from the New York Times:

As concerns about climate change push the world economy toward a lower-carbon future, investing in oil may seem a risky bet. For the long term, that may be true.

Yet for the moment, at least, oil and gas prices appear likely to continue to rise as the economy recovers from the pandemic-driven shutdown of millions of businesses, big and small.

These countervailing trends — increasing demand now and falling demand at some point, perhaps in the not-too-distant future — create a dilemma for investors.

The good news is that an array of traditional mutual funds and exchange-traded funds are available to help them navigate these uncertain waters. Some funds focus on slices of the industry, such as extracting crude oil and gas from the ground or delivering refined products to consumers. Others focus on so-called integrated companies that do it all. Some spice their holdings with some exposure to wind, solar or other alternative energy sources.

While the range of options may seem intimidating at first glance, the variety is an advantage for investors because it offers many ways to diversify energy investments in the U.S. market, which is dominated by two integrated titans, Exxon Mobil and Chevron.

Still, investing in the oil and gas industry is not for everyone, especially these days. Some people object to putting money into the fossil fuel industry. Even if that isn’t an issue for you, energy has historically been a volatile industry, with astounding booms and devastating busts. Through March, the S&P Composite 1500 Energy Index rose 72 percent since the end of October, a period during which the Food and Drug Administration approved the first Covid-19 vaccine and President Biden’s election raised expectations of additional economic stimulus.

But these are unusual times for energy investing. The S&P energy index retreated 5 percent from March 17 to March 31, after the International Energy Agency forecast that oil consumption was not likely to return to prepandemic levels in developed economies.

“World oil markets are rebalancing after the Covid-19 crisis spurred an unprecedented collapse in demand in 2020, but they may never return to ‘normal,’” the I.E.A. said in its “Oil 2021” report. “Rapid changes in behavior from the pandemic and a stronger drive by governments toward a low-carbon future have caused a dramatic downward shift in expectations for oil demand over the next six years.”

#fossil fuel industry #fossil fuel investments

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bopinion · 4 years ago

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2021 / 02

Aperçu of the Week:

Pizza is like the Beauty of God (My 12-year-old son Luca).

Bad News of the Week:

Our current governing party, the CDU, elected a new leader yesterday. The successor to Angel Merkel, who will remain chancellor until the federal elections in the fall. Toward the end of the Merkel era, fundamental questions arose about the future direction of Germany's largest party - from radical progressive change to a "carry on like this" in the famous political center to a revival of conservative values.

Much has changed in the political landscape during the 16 years of Merkel's government: the inexorable advance of globalization, rising populism, social polarization and imbalance, increasingly pressing issues such as sustainability and ecology, and much more. On the whole, Germany is not in a bad position - it is proving to be an anchor of stability, is assuming responsibility, and is able to carry all classes and groups along reasonably well. And some of the political decisions of the conservative party can certainly be seen as forward-looking, e.g., the simultaneous phase-out of fossil and nuclear energy (for an industrial country!) or same-sex marriage (for a party that calls itself the Christian Democratic Union and has a head of government who is the daughter of a pastor!). Nevertheless, Germany is also too slow in its reactions to the current challenges, not to mention proactive actions.

In this respect, the new chairman now elected, Armin Laschet, is only a tepid compromise that is more likely to administer Merkel's legacy than to modernize it. Opportunity missed. No wonder he fares rather poorly in the opinion polls "Can Laschet be chancellor?" These polls, in turn, are dominated by Markus Söder, leader of the regional sister party CSU and Bavarian prime minister, who has by far the best values as a classic leader. And that's the problem: historically, a Bavarian king has never become German emperor, and the two bids by Bavarian leaders for the chancellorship have also flopped. A Bavarian has always been considered difficult to place nationwide, and an unsuccessful attempt would weaken the party and the person.

So what will happen? In the medium term, it will hardly be possible without the conservatives: the Social Democrats are too outdated and too weak, the Liberals a shadow of their former selves, the Greens still too dogmatic, the Socialists too radical, the right-wing populists indiscernible. So in the federal elections this September, it boils down to a motley coalition that gets in each other's way, argues over trivialities and shimmies from one minimal consensus to the next. And that won't be enough to successfully address the fundamental challenges that will set the agenda this decade in a forward-looking way.

Good News of the Week:

Hard to believe in these turbulent times, but - if you look for it - there is also positive news to report. In matters of environmental protection and sustainability, for example. Here some highlights:

According to a study by a research team from Germany and the U.S., every U.S. dollar invested in rainforest protection saves $5.40 for other climate protection measures. Costa Rica has 5% of the world's animal and plant species, with a population of only 5 million - thanks to conservation measures over the past 30 years, about 30% of the country's land is now a nature reserve. A project in western Uganda aims to plant more than 3 million trees, restoring long-term habitat for endangered chimpanzees, as well as for more than 50 percent of the birds, 39 percent of the mammals, 19 percent of the amphibians and 14 percent of the reptiles and plants of mainland Africa.

The Fraunhofer Institute for Solar Energy Systems ISE has calculated that by 2020, for the first time, more than 50 percent of Germany's electricity demand will have been generated from renewable sources. The Viennese start-up Greenwell Energy has developed a concept to generate geothermal energy from abandoned oil wells that can be used, for example, to heat greenhouses.

In Bali, there is the world's first rehabilitation center for dolphins, which are thus prepared for release into the wild after a life in dolphinariums or zoos. In Austria, window surfaces of high-rise buildings and passenger trains, for example, are covered with a special film that reflects ultraviolet light - invisible to humans but visible to birds, which thus no longer bang against the panes.

A Spanish researcher has found that seaweed on the ocean floor combines with free-floating plastic to form fiber balls, which the sea then washes onto the beach in a self-cleaning manner, potentially binding 860 million plastic particles per year. Two Germans have built a barrier on the Citarum in Indonesia, still the world's dirtiest river in 2013, that fishes out up to 1,000 kilograms of trash per week.

And in Freiburg, Baden, near the French border, parents are given an already two-meter-high fruit tree as a gift for the birth of a child, which - in the absence of a garden or balcony of their own - can also be donated to the public. The sum of these and countless other aspects gives hope that humanity may yet find its way to a respectful and sustainable approach to the environment in time.

Personal happy Moment of the Week:

Partly out of morning laziness, partly because of sensitive skin, partly because I think it suits me, I wear beard. I oscillate between Circle, Goatee and full beard. Now in Bavaria, starting tomorrow, it is mandatory to wear an FFP2 mask in supermarkets, subways, etc. And this only works properly if its edges close completely - which is already not the case with Long Stubble. While the media is now discussing whether bearded men should now no longer be allowed to go shopping or whether the mandatory shave restricts personal rights, I decided to take the plunge and try out various beard variants over the next few weeks that, according to the CDC, also work with these masks normally only used by hospital staff. I started today with the so-called "Frank Zappa" - and am amusing myself deliciously about the reactions of my environment, which range from shock to amusement to politely meant ignorance.

As I write this...

...I enjoy a dry red cuvée from France's Pays d'Oc.

#aperçu #thoughts #bad news #good news #News of the Week #happy moments #pizza #beard #ffp2 #angela merkel #cdu #armin laschet #markus söder #environment #sustainability #biodiversity #pays d’oc #environment protection

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artdaily7 · 4 years ago

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Marriage by Marianne Moore

This institution, perhaps one should say enterprise out of respect for which one says one need not change one's mind about a thing one has believed in, requiring public promises of one's intention to fulfill a private obligation: I wonder what Adam and Eve think of it by this time, this firegilt steel alive with goldenness; how bright it shows -- "of circular traditions and impostures, committing many spoils," requiring all one's criminal ingenuity to avoid! Psychology which explains everything explains nothing and we are still in doubt. Eve: beautiful woman -- I have seen her when she was so handsome she gave me a start, able to write simultaneously in three languages -- English, German and French and talk in the meantime; equally positive in demanding a commotion and in stipulating quiet: "I should like to be alone;" to which the visitor replies, "I should like to be alone; why not be alone together?" Below the incandescent stars below the incandescent fruit, the strange experience of beauty; its existence is too much; it tears one to pieces and each fresh wave of consciousness is poison. "See her, see her in this common world," the central flaw in that first crystal-fine experiment, this amalgamation which can never be more than an interesting possibility, describing it as "that strange paradise unlike flesh, gold, or stately buildings, the choicest piece of my life: the heart rising in its estate of peace as a boat rises with the rising of the water;" constrained in speaking of the serpent -- that shed snakeskin in the history of politeness not to be returned to again -- that invaluable accident exonerating Adam. And he has beauty also; it's distressing -- the O thou to whom, from whom, without whom nothing -- Adam; "something feline, something colubrine" -- how true! a crouching mythological monster in that Persian miniature of emerald mines, raw silk -- ivory white, snow white, oyster white and six others -- that paddock full of leopards and giraffes -- long lemonyellow bodies sown with trapezoids of blue. Alive with words, vibrating like a cymbal touched before it has been struck, he has prophesied correctly -- the industrious waterfall, "the speedy stream which violently bears all before it, at one time silent as the air and now as powerful as the wind." "Treading chasms on the uncertain footing of a spear," forgetting that there is in woman a quality of mind which is an instinctive manifestation is unsafe, he goes on speaking in a formal, customary strain of "past states," the present state, seals, promises, the evil one suffered, the good one enjoys, hell, heaven, everything convenient to promote one's joy." There is in him a state of mind by force of which, perceiving what it was not intended that he should, "he experiences a solemn joy in seeing that he has become an idol." Plagued by the nightingale in the new leaves, with its silence -- not its silence but its silences, he says of it: "It clothes me with a shirt of fire." "He dares not clap his hands to make it go on lest it should fly off; if he does nothing, it will sleep; if he cries out, it will not understand." Unnerved by the nightingale and dazzled by the apple, impelled by "the illusion of a fire effectual to extinguish fire," compared with which the shining of the earth is but deformity -- a fire "as high as deep as bright as broad as long as life itself," he stumbles over marriage, "a very trivial object indeed" to have destroyed the attitude in which he stood -- the ease of the philosopher unfathered by a woman. Unhelpful Hymen! "a kind of overgrown cupid" reduced to insignificance by the mechanical advertising parading as involuntary comment, by that experiment of Adam's with ways out but no way in -- the ritual of marriage, augmenting all its lavishness; its fiddle-head ferns, lotus flowers, opuntias, white dromedaries, its hippopotamus -- nose and mouth combined in one magnificent hopper, "the crested screamer -- that huge bird almost a lizard," its snake and the potent apple. He tells us that "for love that will gaze an eagle blind, that is like a Hercules climbing the trees in the garden of the Hesperides, from forty-five to seventy is the best age," commending it as a fine art, as an experiment, a duty or as merely recreation. One must not call him ruffian nor friction a calamity -- the fight to be affectionate: "no truth can be fully known until it has been tried by the tooth of disputation." The blue panther with black eyes, the basalt panther with blue eyes, entirely graceful -- one must give them the path -- the black obsidian Diana who "darkeneth her countenance as a bear doth, causing her husband to sigh," the spiked hand that has an affection for one and proves it to the bone, impatient to assure you that impatience is the mark of independence not of bondage. "Married people often look that way" -- "seldom and cold, up and down, mixed and malarial with a good day and bad." "When do we feed?" We occidentals are so unemotional, we quarrel as we feed; one's self is quite lost, the irony preserved in "the Ahasuerus tête à tête banquet" with its "good monster, lead the way," with little laughter and munificence of humor in that quixotic atmosphere of frankness in which "Four o'clock does not exist but at five o'clock the ladies in their imperious humility are ready to receive you"; in which experience attests that men have power and sometimes one is made to feel it. He says, "what monarch would not blush to have a wife with hair like a shaving-brush? The fact of woman is not `the sound of the flute but every poison.'" She says, "`Men are monopolists of stars, garters, buttons and other shining baubles' -- unfit to be the guardians of another person's happiness." He says, "These mummies must be handled carefully -- `the crumbs from a lion's meal, a couple of shins and the bit of an ear'; turn to the letter M and you will find that `a wife is a coffin,' that severe object with the pleasing geometry stipulating space and not people, refusing to be buried and uniquely disappointing, revengefully wrought in the attitude of an adoring child to a distinguished parent." She says, "This butterfly, this waterfly, this nomad that has `proposed to settle on my hand for life.' -- What can one do with it? There must have been more time in Shakespeare's day to sit and watch a play. You know so many artists are fools." He says, "You know so many fools who are not artists." The fact forgot that "some have merely rights while some have obligations," he loves himself so much, he can permit himself no rival in that love. She loves herself so much, she cannot see herself enough -- a statuette of ivory on ivory, the logical last touch to an expansive splendor earned as wages for work done: one is not rich but poor when one can always seem so right. What can one do for them -- these savages condemned to disaffect all those who are not visionaries alert to undertake the silly task of making people noble? This model of petrine fidelity who "leaves her peaceful husband only because she has seen enough of him" -- that orator reminding you, "I am yours to command." "Everything to do with love is mystery; it is more than a day's work to investigate this science." One sees that it is rare -- that striking grasp of opposites opposed each to the other, not to unity, which in cycloid inclusiveness has dwarfed the demonstration of Columbus with the egg -- a triumph of simplicity -- that charitive Euroclydon of frightening disinterestedness which the world hates, admitting:

"I am such a cow, if I had a sorrow, I should feel it a long time; I am not one of those who have a great sorrow in the morning and a great joy at noon;" which says: "I have encountered it among those unpretentious protegés of wisdom, where seeming to parade as the debater and the Roman, the statesmanship of an archaic Daniel Webster persists to their simplicity of temper as the essence of the matter:

`Liberty and union now and forever;'

the book on the writing-table; the hand in the breast-pocket."

Winslow Homer 1874 Moonlight, oil on canvas, PC

#Winslow Homer #Moonlight #Marriage #Moore #Art #Poetry #Fine Arts #Painting #Poems #Homer #Marianne Moore

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mobilemechanics45 · 4 years ago

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Mobile Brake Repair Services and Cost in McAllen TX | Mobile Mechanic of McAllen

More information is at: http://24hourmobileautorepairmcallen.org/mobile-brake-repair-service-near-me/

Need emergency brake repair and maintenance services near McAllen? Schedule the most convenient and affordable brake repair services near you from our expert brake specialists. in your area. Mobile Mechanic of McAllen offers a convenient way to get great auto repair near me, diagnostic service and oil changes. Our mobile mechanics will come to you! Mobile Mechanic of McAllen provides convenient mobile brake repair services in McAllen. Visit Mobile Mechanic of McAllen to see our mobile brake mechanic services.

BEST MOBILE BRAKE REPAIR SERVICES IN MCALLEN TX MCALLEN MOBILE BRAKE REPAIR

Mobile Brake Repair Service near McAllen TX: Automotive brakes have a very important function: Get your vehicle to slow down and stop moving. Ensuring that they're in proper shape is important to a driver. Mobile Mechanic of McAllen offers brake inspections & repairs in McAllen TX.

How Do Brakes Work?

Your wheels are bolted to smooth steel discs called rotors, and a heavy caliper encloses part of the rotor. The caliper houses the brake pads, which are lined with a hard semi-metallic or ceramic friction material. When you press the brake pedal, hydraulic pressure forces the pads against the rotor, slowing or stopping the car by friction.

How Often Should I Change My Brake Pads?

The friction material on the pads can last 40-60,000 miles, which can be as long as five years, according to how many miles you drive. When the parts wear so slowly and gradually, it can be hard to tell when the pads have worn to a point where they need service.

Symptoms of Bad Brakes

Mobile Brake Repair Service near McAllen TX: Sometimes it might be a bit difficult to tell when your brakes might need servicing. There are a few tell tale signs that can help you to diagnose brake issues.

These are all signs to watch for: Brake Repair in McAllen TX ● The vehicle has a pronounced pull to one side when braking ● The vehicle has a noticeable pulsation or vibration through brake pedal while braking ● A tendency for one or more wheels to lock up and skid while braking ● Excessive brake pedal travel, i.e. brake pedal goes farther toward floor before brakes engage ● Brake pedal feels “soft” or “spongy” underfoot ● Shimmy through steering wheel while braking ● Squeal, groan or metallic grinding noise while braking.

Of the symptoms mentioned above, the grinding noise is by far the worst. Some brake pads feature a spring steel tab that protrudes from the backing plate and is designed to drag on the rotor when the pads reach a minimum thickness, squealing and alerting the driver. In other cases, it can mean that the pads are worn to a point where the friction material is gone and the backing plates are exposed, digging into the rotors. Not only is your only braking ability coming from metal to metal contact, but it’s quickly ruining your rotors’ faces!

Why Choose Mobile Mechanic of McAllen?

Quality

Mobile Brake Repair Service near McAllen TX: We use premium parts, backed by a 24 month/24,000 mile nationwide warranty, and require our brake repair specialists to be ASE-certified, which translates to first-class brake service every time.

Convenience

Our mobile brake repair experts will come to your house, office, or anywhere you’d like to have your brake repair service, saving you time and energy. Many companies charge a premium for convenience not us, it’s just a benefit of our unique business model.

Trust

You can trust Mobile Mechanic of McAllen because we are the highest-rated and most-recommended brake service company in and around Austin, Dallas and Fort Worth. We’ll never take advantage of your lack of knowledge in brake repair–instead, we pride ourselves on transparency and superior communication.

Value

Due to our mobile service model, we save a lot on overhead and pass that savings directly on to you. Hard costs are one thing, but the ultimate value comes from your ability to live your life uninterrupted by service, giving you your time back, which is invaluable.

Benefits of Brake Repair

Mobile Brake Repair Service near McAllen TX: Bad brakes display warning signs for impending brake maintenance. For example, if your brakes squeal or grind when in use, then your brake pads may be worn and require replacements. If your vehicle pulls to one side when braking, then this may point to worn brakes, a malfunctioning caliper, or low brake fluid in the brake lines. If your brake pedal pressed down too easily, also known as “spongy” brakes then this may be an indication of too much air in the hydraulic brake lines. Sometimes, your vehicle’s electronic diagnostic system will alert you to a potential brake issue by a service indicator light on the dashboard. While these are only some of the most common signs of potential problems with your vehicle’s brake system, noticing these signs of faulty brakes and seeking out a brake service can save you money down the line. Our staff is trained in maintaining and servicing front and rear brake systems and all accompanying brake system components like brake pads, brake shoes, parking brakes, rotors, drums, and hydraulic systems. If you experience any of the above signs or symptoms of bad brakes, like unusual squealing or grinding noises, then contact us online or call us today to have your brakes inspected immediately.

Tips of Mobile Brake Repair

It's hard to find time to handle your auto repair needs, especially for those with a crazy work or family schedule. When you choose to use a mobile brake repair service, you're typically going to receive added convenience, affordability and top-notch customer service, something often foreign to the auto repair industry. Since mobile brake repair services don't have to operate a full-fledged brake shop, their overhead is slightly lower, which means they can provide top-tier services for less than your local brick and motor brake store.

COST

Average Brake Repair Cost

There’s a great deal of variance when it comes to the cost of getting your brake pads replaced.

Brake Pads Only Cost Range

Parts (set of 4) $35 to $150 Labor $80 to $120 Total $100 to $300 per axle

It costs an average of $100 to $300 per axle to get pads replaced by a professional service center or mechanic. The pads themselves range from $35 to $150 for a set of 4 (one axle), depending on the material and quality of the pads and the make and model of your vehicle. If the front right wheel’s pads need to be replaced, you should get the ones on the front left wheel replaced at the same time to ensure that both sides wear out uniformly and prevent the car from pulling to one side when you press the brake.

Pads & Rotors Cost Range

Rotors (Parts) $30 to $75 each Pads (Parts) $35 to $150 Labor $150 to $200 Total $250 to $500 per axle

If your rotors need to be replaced as well, this could end up running you around $250 to $500 total (including pad replacement). Rotors themselves range from $30 to $75 each (some higher performance rotors are $100+). Prices depend heavily on type, quality and brand. There is also the comparison and decision to use aftermarket vs manufacturer (OEM) parts. Aftermarket parts are typically less expensive, are more available and have greater selection, while OEM parts have a greater assurance of quality, are easier to choose and come with a warranty.

Factors that Affect the Cost

● Whether you DIY, go to an independent mechanic or the dealership ● Year, make and model of your vehicle ● Brand/quality and type of pads and rotors used ● Cost of labor in your area (cities are usually more expensive)

Type and Quality of Parts Used

Mobile Brake Repair Service near McAllen TX: Pads come in a wide range of quality and materials and the differences in price reflect that. Therefore, premium ceramic pads for a high end vehicle such as an Audi R8 will cost significantly more than standard semi-metallic pads for your Toyota Camry.

Doing some research to determine which parts best fit your needs and buying aftermarket parts yourself instead of paying a technician labor and markup costs to decide for you can save you hundreds of dollars.

Cost of Labor

The cost of labor is another major factor and depends on your geographical location (supply and demand of auto maintenance) and whether you get the job done at a dealership, national service center chain or an independent mechanic. The average is typically around $60 to $100 per hour.

Brake jobs are usually priced at anywhere from 1-2 hours per axle (sometimes 3 for the most comprehensive jobs) worth of labor based on a flat rate pay system. The costs can add up if you need both your front and back brakes repaired.

While paying someone to fix your brakes isn’t the most affordable option, having a professional handle this job is the best way to go for those that don’t possess the mechanical skills.

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS

Will your machine/turn the rotors when replacing brake pads?

Mobile Brake Repair Service near McAllen TX: We don’t machine rotors for several reasons. We use top of the line ceramic that can form to little imperfections in the rotors and still stay quiet. If your rotors were in need of machining we would replace them for several reasons: 1. We can replace rotors and pads for the same price most shops charge a machine rotor and replace pads. 2. When a rotor is machined you make it thinner, decreasing its ability to cool properly, which leads to warping and a vibration in the pedal and/or steering wheel. We fix your brakes right the first time so you don’t have to come back in 6 months to spend more money on new rotors.

Why do my brakes squeak?

Squeaking happens for several reasons. Usually, the brake pad has worn down and the metal indicator is rubbing on the rotors. The pad can also be a poor material that will continue to make noise until replaced. Brake pads can also glaze over from being heated up and they will continue to squeak until replaced.

Why do my brakes make a grinding metal on metal sound?

Usually, grinding indicates the pads have worn all the way out. The metal backing that holds the brake pad material is all that’s left and once that contacts the rotors, it’s just metal on metal. The brake pads and rotors will need to be replaced.

Why do my brakes vibrate and/or my steering wheel shake when I press on the pedal?

This is an indication that either your front or rear brake rotors have warped. When this occurs the rotors have been compromised, they have high spots on them and the vibration will only continue to get worse.

My brake light is on, what does that mean? The brake light comes on when the brake fluid is low or there’s a malfunction in the master cylinder. If the fluid is low this is a good indication that the brake pads are worn down as well.

Can you come on weekends?

Yes, we have Saturday appointments available.

Do you accept credit cards?

Yes, we accept cash and all major credit cards.

How long does it take?

On average brake jobs take forty-five minutes to an hour at most.

Do you work in the rain?

Yes, all our tools are waterproof and our technicians have great rain gear.

Can you come to my work or my apartment complex?

Yes, we can do brake repair at office buildings, in parking garages, on parking lots or low traffic streets. We have insurance and liability coverage to conduct repairs on third party properties.

Will it cost the same no matter where I live?

Yes, price varies only on the make and model of your vehicle and the repairs necessary.

Do you offer a warranty?

Yes, all parts and labor are covered under a comprehensive 24 month, 24,000 mile nationwide warranty.

Do you service all makes and models?

Yes, all of our technicians have the tools and experience to service everything from the simplest domestic cars to the most advanced imports.

CALL FOR US:

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BEST MOBILE BRAKE REPAIR SERVICE IN MCALLEN TX MOBILE MECHANIC OF MCALLEN REQUEST MORE INFORMATION. CONTACT US NOW!

CONTACT US: Mobile Mechanics of McAllen 24-hour mobile mechanic roadside assistance services in McAllen, TX! CALL (956) 278-8017 MOBILE MECHANIC CALL (956) 278-8258 MOBILE AUTO MECHANIC CALL (956) 278-8619 MOBILE TRUCK MECHANIC CALL (956) 587-3435 TOWING & RAODSIDE ASSISTANCE WEBSITE: www.24hourmobileautorepairmcallen.org http://www.mobilemechanicmcallentx.com/

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hhollylau · 4 years ago

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Why Are We Talking About This?

I was at an energy conference years ago where the speaker asked a question that has stuck with me ever since.

“Where do you think the price of oil will be in a hundred years?”

After a series of “show of hand” votes, the consensus in the audience was clear: no one thought the price of oil would be higher than $0 in a hundred years.

When we think about work, the essence of our economic lives or in aggregate what we term as “the economy”, what is “the economy” really but the conversion of energy into consumption? We take water and irrigate fields, so that seeds can turn into food, and food can turn in calories to keep our bodies and minds functioning. We take fossil fuel from the ground and put it in our planes, trains, and automobiles to move products around, to trade so we can consume more: more quantity, higher quality, and more diversity of goods and services. Every leap in the history of productivity has been a revolution in energy efficiency – how to yield more consumption at a lower cost: via cattle drawn ploughs, via steam engines, via diesel powered motors, via electric cars.

What does it mean then if a room of relatively informed professionals expect oil prices to go to $0 in the next one hundred years? The implication is simple: taking the trajectory from the dawn of time to the industrial revolution and out to the future, we assume that humans will find a cheaper, more efficient alternative than oil for energy to fuel our consumption. After all, how could it be otherwise? The conversion of energy for consumption at present comes with an extremely high, existential cost to the planet. Political partisans may cynically dodge questions about climate change with a “who really knows” shrug, but is there any doubt that the market would at least hedge the possibility of rising temperatures and sea levels? Why not invest in alternative energy sources that could possibly yield more profit, and maybe not render the planet uninhabitable?

Then where does it leave us? What is the point of the Economy as we know it if humans succeed with brutal efficiency in bringing the cost of converting energy to consumption to near zero? What if there is a day, doomsayers be damned, when we live in a near Utopian world where food and housing production can be solved through waste-neutral farming, 3D printing, and other innovations we have yet to realize? What does it mean for work in the twenty-first century, when so many of our jobs already seem to exist for their own sake rather than creating any productive value for society?

The phenomenon that many of us may have “meaningless jobs” had been explored by anthropologist David Graeber in the essay “Bullshit Jobs.” His thesis, in essence, is that there are too many workers with too few actually necessary jobs. Automation has vastly improved the industrial process. Bang for the buck, robots can produce more goods and services than a human ever can for things like assembling electronics or even providing financial advice. We should be basking in those extra hours of leisure, lapping in the luxury of cheaper goods. But we are not. Somehow humans have invented more work, peripheral to actual productivity -- work created seemingly for the sake of work.

John Maynard Keynes predicted the 15-hour work week in 1960. Instead of living in the paradise of free time thanks to technological advances so efficient at converting energy to consumable goods and services, we find ourselves spending weekends preparing a presentation, responding to emails at the dinner table. We squared the equation of an oversupply of educated people and under-demand for labor by inventing new types of labor: roles of administrators, consultants, and other actors and supporters of increasing bureaucracy. As Graeber pointed out, in those jobs, people know they have bullshit jobs, causing what he called “moral and spiritual damage.” Put in another way, there may be an impending crisis of unemployment due to automation, but the crisis of joyless employment due to some logic to keep everyone busy already has an acute impact on large swaths of the population.

Why Are We Talking About This?

The motivation for writing, whether an academic essay or creative story, is to say something about what is different this time, what’s different about now. Henry David Thoreau said over a century ago, to paraphrase, “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation.” Films, movies, and books have delved into the extreme anxiety and frustration caused by work (e.g., “Office Space”). For millennia workers toiled, unhappily, for feudal lords, surviving on scraps and dangling on the precipice of gruesome and miserable deaths. So works sucks – what is different about then and now? I’ve come home many days feeling decimated by the pointlessness and pettiness of a corporate setting. Conceptually it is a far cry from having to stand in an assembly line for fourteen hours straight; vast improvement from shoveling coal into a steam engine. Shouldn’t we just accept this fate of modern work life in exchange for the material comfort that many of our predecessors couldn’t even imagine as possible? The most stunning paradox here is that because our economy is so efficient, because technology has enabled us to be so productive, that we have created our own trappings of an unfulfilled life, and I refuse to believe that it is fait accompli. What if there are other ways to think about work, other ways to define work? Other ways to busy ourselves, rather than perpetuate the monstrosity that is corporate work life, while we enjoy the fruits of an economy that no longer really needs us?

My intention is to write a series of essays, grouped by observations and theories of how we got here. Without the how, it would be difficult to discuss the what of our dilemma, and most importantly, why it does not need to be this way. Classical economists tend to have a “natural laws” view of the world: the belief that the Economy arose from first principles of human nature and society. Humans are greedy and want to keep moving up the utility curve. They have the urge to trade as involuntarily as the compulsion to breathe, which is why capitalism is the most natural form of economic organization. What is is what should be. It would be a grave mistake to call this current definition of work natural. It is in its unnaturalness that renders it soul crushing. It is in its unnaturalness that we chafe against it. And so we begin with an exploration of what work could be for humans to proper and lead productive lives.

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stetervault · 5 years ago

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Hi there could you possibly recommend your personal fave steter (or stetopher) fics from this year? :) Appreciate your blog!

This is so late, sorry. I haven’t been on to do more than queue a few posts lately. But recent faves, I can do that. Here are some off the top of my head:

Call Me, Call Me Any, Anytime by Triangulum

In which Stiles is a phone sex operator, Peter is searching for his soulmate, and Erica has a telephonic ding dong ditcher.

Rewriting the future by Synesthetic (this one finished recently but started like three years ago, it’s very good if you’re into abo verse with plot)

Two days before their planned bonding, alpha Derek Hale runs away with his secret beta girlfriend, leaving Stiles heartbroken. With the demands of his omega physiology forcing him to bond with someone before his first heat, Derek’s uncle Peter steps in and offers a solution.

Keep You (Safe) Within my Shadow by lavenderlotion

Stiles has never been scared of the dark. The shadows are his friends.

Pin Feathers and Primaries by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids) (wing fic + fluffy hurt/comfort + sexy times, what more do you need ;))

Peter’s wings remained sensitive after his resurrection.

They were perfect again; perfect white coverts with perfect black primaries. Perfectly glossy feathers, perfectly oiled and perfectly clean. No more twisted flesh. No more mangled plumage. No more broken blood feathers, jaggedly screaming for relief.

His wings were perfect.

The were perfect, and it chafed him that he had to remind himself of that now rather than simply know.

Wind Chimes by wynnebat (SO GOOD, i want like 50k more ugh)

“Why are you here?” Peter asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I can understand curiosity, but Stiles, you have visited me nearly every day for years. It can’t be that simple.”

Stiles shrugs. It’s both simple and not. For him, who grew up with the wind, who is inseparable from it in the best of ways, it is absurdly simple. For Peter, who doesn’t trust the wind as Stiles does, it may not be. “The wind says you’re mine. That’s all I need.”

A Love for Millennia (a story never told) by OneSmartChicken

Stiles had to go into the woods that night. It didn’t make sense. She was lured by the sense of adventure, but there was a more that dragged at her.

Or: Stiles is the only one to realize she and Peter are soulmates. She doesn’t mention it.

Signal on the Mountain by bellefire (this is a wip but i really like this one, the train station realm in the Ghost Riders arc had so much potential for worldbuilding/development, I have like half a dozen ideas based on that myself lmao and one of these days maybe i’ll even finish one fml. anyway, definitely check this one out, idk what Archive 81 is but i understood everything fine.)

In which Peter and Stiles find a way out of the station on their own and the two end up somewhere else. Somewhere familiar and altogether different. A place in between, where time is different, strange creatures roam and all the while the world outside moves on, unstoppable as a train.

Robber Foxes (Have No Fears) by RayShippouUchiha (wip but another big fave, i am eagerly waiting for the next chapter)

In the end all Stiles really has left is his dad, a lonely house, the key and deed to the loft, and a chest filled up with emptiness.

A void, yawning right behind his sternum.

That and the laughter of a fox trapped right beneath his skin, echoing in the hollows of his skull, whispering behind his teeth.

Stiles should have known it wasn’t over.

Magic stains everything it touches after all.

From Ashes Rebuilt by ambersagen (murderbaby!stiles)

“You shouldn’t be alive,” Stiles finally admitted. He sounded sorry, smelled like anxiety and hunched in on himself as he fell back from Peter to land in the dented chair. “I heard the doctors telling your niece. She wasn’t quiet about it, and no one cares if I’m around anyway so I heard the whole thing, about your burns. I snuck in to see you.”

“Like a sideshow freak,” Peter sneered, starting to understand.

“Like a miracle,” Stiles corrected.

You Are A Call To Motion by neglectedtuesday

Here at Hale Industries ® we don’t believe in limiting one’s pleasure. That’s why we’re dedicated to bringing our clientele the best in Jackbot technology. Whether you’re a busy dom in need of a service sub or a baby boy desperate for an Alien Daddy, Hale Industries ® has the perfect bot for you. Built to your specifications, our customer service team is devoted to building a bot that will never fail to meet your needs. And if you discover something new you want to try, you can subscribe to our monthly upgrade packages in order to add or remove kinks at your leisure.

Hale Industries ® - The Only Limits Are The Ones We Place On Ourselves.

Here Begins the Land of Phantoms by Triangulum

Stiles is four and scared of the dark. There are things in the shadows of his room, whispering to him, showing him terrible, violent things.

There’s something in the basement, too. He can feel it while he’s sitting on the old, worn sofa, its presence curling around the edges of the room. He thinks he can see something sometimes, a mass shimmering in the corner, but he always looks away. He doesn’t want to know.

Peter is a demon that lives in the Stilinskis’ basement.

Where I Want to Be by Tahlruil

Peter wasn’t exactly surprised when he ‘woke up’ in hell.

He’d known his wounds were fatal as soon as he’d gotten them. In truth he’d never expected to still be standing after his quest for revenge had been completed. What mattered was taking the Argent family down with him and making sure they died before he did. Peter had saved Kate and Gerard for last; they had looked into his eyes as they bled out. They had known that he was the instrument of their family’s doom and he couldn’t ask for more than that.

On Edge by Bunnywest

“What do you mean, Stiles is missing?” Peter demands, scowling at the phone.“Missing, Hale! Can you help find him or not?” The sheriff’s voice cracks, and Peter can tell he’s out of his mind with worry. Peter doesn’t blame him.

In which Stiles gets bitten by a rogue alpha and bolts into the preserve, terrified and out of control.Peter’s the one best qualified to find him, because Stiles is Peter’s mate.Peter maybe hasn’t quite gotten around to telling him that part yet, but Stiles is his, and he’s damned if he’s going to lose him to some feral alpha.He’s going to find his boy, bring him home, and as for the rest? Well, Peter has a plan.It’s Peter. He always has a plan.

Kissing Air by Ragga

“Listen, I’m going to be straight with you. Just before I arrived, I—figured out some very alarming things that I feel you should know.”

Peter tilted his head. His eyes roamed over Chris’ face before flicking over to his steadily beating chest.

“What is it?”

“You should stay away from Stilinski.”

Roots of Silver by Werif_esteria

Peter stalks through the narrow confines of his kitchen three times before the Alpha madness clears from his mind and he can finally figure out what it is that’s changed the air in his home.

He’s not alone.

And from the newest batch of Steter fics that just came out for Steter Reverse Bang, I’ve only had time to read these two:

Into Eden by GracieBirdie

Stiles deciding to bring home the stray alpha he’d hit with his jeep probably made him certifiable, if it hadn’t turned out Peter was as crazy as he was.

Something Powerful Between Your Thighs by Bunnywest

Someone’s actually replied.Fuck.

I’ll give you what you need, pretty boy. And you can call me Sir.

The hairs on the back of Stiles’s neck prickle at that, and his dick throbs. He clicks on the profile and the picture that pops up is UN-FUCKING-FAIR. Jesus Christ on a bicycle, nobody should look like that. The man’s staring into the camera, a smile that’s almost a sneer on his face. And what a face it is. Intense blue eyes, cheekbones like cut glass, and a strong jawline covered in the perfect amount of stubble. His neck, what Stiles can see of it, is thickly muscled, and Stiles can see the beginnings of a tattoo that travels down. There’s the tiniest scattering of grey at his temples, and Stiles breathes out, “Oh yes, Sir,” as he drinks in the details on the profile.

#teen wolf #steter #stiles stilinski #peter hale #fanfic rec #ask #anonymous

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prorevenge · 6 years ago

Text

Treat me like garbage for 3+ years and try to deny me my unemployment? We'll see about that.

This is a bit of a long one, so strap in, grab some popcorn, and enjoy. Happened some years ago. If you find any spelling or grammar errors. Keep them and breed them, they make great pets. Tl;dr at the bottom.

So some background; due to some personal reasons, I needed a new start. Years ago, I moved cross country to a state famous for its mountains, colours, and legal drug use. Since I had some family that wanted me to drive some items they'd stored on the eastern coast of the US to the state. I agreed and decided on moving since I could easily transfer all of my schooling to another college in the area. My folks were abusive and I moved out about a week after getting a job, but this isn't about them.

Enter my old boss. They came from the kind of money that paid their way into an ivy league school and owns several properties around town. Their also the sort of person who stopped their birth control just to get pregnant and keep their equally douchey boyfriend around. Just some background and used to establish character.

The Details & Background

My new job was working as an assistant. I thought that it was odd that the interview was at a Starbucks, but I needed the job. I accepted minimum wage as a 1099 employee--yes I know I was dumb at the time, don't worry, I've learned better--and started. My new workplace was out of their basement. Odd, but I'm a good guy, so I roll with it.

Folks I'm not exaggerating in the least when I say I worked sometimes upwards of 70+ hours a week. This was a job that was pitched to me as "part-time." After months there, I did everything from answering phones, running social media and websites, drafting estimates, doing all IT work, some minor cleaning, and generally trying to help out this business in any way I could. I bent over backwards and then some more. Years later I realized I set an impossibly high standard for myself and others as the first employee of this business.

Fast forward to some years in the future. I had left due to some stress-related health concerns. Essentially, I had a small stroke because of the stress and berating. I later came back, as I was and still am a very "pay it forward" person. And felt that I owed the company for getting me a start in an industry that got me out of retail. I've since learned better in this respect too.

The work environment was never great. Any small mistake was treated as a large offense. Instead of this being a red flag to me; I doubled down. Did beyond my best to check all work and even taught myself some coding and server management that would help the business. Business started to pick up and we were soon busy enough to be able to afford a new location (I had suggested leasing a place near our primary clientele). We also needed to hire more staff since the workload was too much for two people.

Before I left the first time, I had trained two office personnel. The company had also promoted me. As anyone who has worked in a small business can tell you, you'll wear a lot of hats. So my job title was somewhere around Estimator/IT/Office Manager/Field Representative. The owner had also bought a house in a residential neighborhood with the intention of renovating it to be our new office.

Problems & Red Flags

Well... any business has it's problems, here's the ones for this company: -New office was a house. The lot was zoned for residential. This was apparent at the time of purchase. -While homeowners can pull permits, you have to actually pull the permit for the work. -We couldn't keep staff or subs to save our life. Turn over was ridiculous. -The owner was using the business accounts as their personal accounts. -Anytime the owner came back in; all staff were expected to drop what they were doing and listen to their tirade and demands. Gods help you if you forgot anything or didn't do it to their exact--sometimes incorrect--specifications. Or the specifications they came up with and didn't tell you about. -The owner would scream, shout, and fume with staff. -The owner dated subs. -The owner often requested that I forge or backdate paperwork. (I'm a notary, this is not only illegal, but I could lose that privilege.) -The owner and other workers would smoke pot on the premises. (I'm cool with recreational use, but don't partake myself.) -We would have to constantly juggle credit cards, accounts, and other funds, often begging the owner to be able to pay our supplier(s) to end the throng of endless, angry phone calls and emails asking for payment. -The owner was a serial appointment canceller. Often, I had appointments dropped into my lap past the time I would need to actually travel there and arrive on time.

After more than three combined years of verbal abuse, threats and demands for payment, dealing with a revolving door of angry staff, and having more than one occasion where subs threatened me and the office staff for not being paid; I was ready to leave. I put in my notice as I was having the same stress-related health issues.

The owner panicked and offered to sit down and talk things out. I had no intention of going back to working for $13/hr, with no benefits, and dealing with downright childish behaviour. I hadn't even been sat down for an interview, offered any sort of salary when I came back, and jumped in because they desperately needed the help. I knew that and got straight to work.

But here we were in a public shop, talking things over and I explained the issues in this toxic environment and how it was affecting me. Why I was leaving and that I was sorry things had turned out this way.

To my surprise, they came back with a counteroffer for a fair wage, praised my work, threw in some benefits, and offered to let me work from home for a large percentage of the week. I was still working on lining up a better job at the time and due to a series of equally bad employment situations before; don't work for a GC if you can help it, I needed to rebuild my savings. I agreed and had written proof of this agreement.

Three months go by and for nearly every week I've received multiple calls after my shift asking, why I haven't been doing (x, y, z) task. Why (insert insurance or customer name) hasn't paid up yet. And, of course, being called into the office more due to the "needs of the business." Anytime I'm in the office I'm putting out more fires than the New York Fire Department. Their bookkeeping assistant treats me like garbage. Anytime I had to teach them how to use a new system or even Excel, I'm met with opposition, stubbornness, and later would receive complaints about how I was "being condescending" to them. (In truth, they were very computer illiterate and unqualified for their position.) But they worked for next to nothing and would flatter the owner. They were generally two-faced and a brown-noser.

The company also had a new office manager since I was working on mostly estimates and negotiations. This was one of the two I had trained and they were a sweetheart. They deserved more than they got there and were days where I had found them breaking down crying. The owner treated them worse than they had treated me and so did their "bookkeeper." I felt sorry for them and eventually, they were fired. It's unfortunate, but they are doing better now from what I've heard.

Well, when the office manager was fired, bookkeeper and the owner drafted up a TON of fake write-ups. Backdating them, forging signatures, and generally trying to make them look like the worst worker to ever exist.

I was upset. This was someone who had been in a similar position that I had been in; saved from the world of retail and trying to gain experience to get a better job. They were a hard worker and set the standard impossibly high. The customers loved them and they ran the office like a well-oiled machine. I honestly think that they had done a better job than I had in some respects.

I brought up how the office manager as indicated by the write-up form was entitled to a copy of the form. That backdating and what was done here was not only inappropriate but illegal. Both bookkeeper and the owner brushed off what I said.

Big red flag.

At this point, I started looking for other work. I was in the office nearly every day and I had even gotten there early enough to open up on most days, then close. I was miserable and kept having chest pains due to the stress. During this time, I was trying to get approval to go on hormone replacement therapy (HRT) since I am trans. In order to qualify, you have to be of certain health requirements. Having a high BP will disqualify you for very valid health reasons.

Due to where I live, I had to drive over an hour away to be seen for these services. Bummer, but I do it anyway. It takes over six months to get an appointment, where I'm told that I need to lower my blood pressure, or I can't safely start HRT.

I'm devastated, I cried, I got seriously depressed, and it only made things worse. To the point that my toxic work environment had stressed me beyond stressed. I came home one day, walked past my roommate like a zombie, went into the shower in our bathroom fully clothed, turned on the cold water, and just... laid there for an hour.

My roommate had been urging me to quit. Seeing the employer abuse, how upset I was, and how my depression was starting to spiral out of control again. Instead of quitting, I put together a solid business plan, job descriptions, improved workflows, and really just a huge document on "How to Unfuck Your Business." Presented the product of several hours of my own time to the owner. Who dismissed it in a loud bar where we could barely hear each other.

After three more months of waiting and trying to prompt change that would never come, I quit.

The Revenge

Since I had left without lining up another, immediate job; and frankly, need therapy, I applied for unemployment benefits due to health reasons. In my country, you can be awarded benefits if you meet a set of strict criteria. Which, after a good day of research, I realized I did meet.

I had never applied for unemployment in my life and having grown up with family that were a mix of benefits fraud poster children and welfare queens; I never wanted to "use the system." But I had bills to pay and needed the time off to pick up my mental pieces after everything that had happened and I was going through. My roommate and I were running low on our savings, so I needed the unemployment.

Swallowing down my pride, I applied and after over a month of back and forth and paperwork; I received my unemployment award.

We breathed a sigh of relief as I continued to recover and look for work. Three months go by and we're past the period of an employer being able to dispute a claim. Again, sigh of relief. I was nearly certain that they were going to try and file against me.

Well, I was right. Turns out they had lied and gotten an extension, filed against my claim. Claiming that I was fired for poor performance.

I was livid.

How dare they insinuate that I did anything less than give 100% at that festering hole of toxicity they called an office! I worked well past my shifts, I had learned and set up the systems and documents they used for nearly everything, and I had treated their company as though it was my own. Sacrificing time, sanity, health, and even some of my own equipment to ensure it succeeded. I kept going when so many had walked away from the dumpster fire that was their business.

Fuck this.

Fuck the owner and fuck this. I immediately and angrily started my research to build my case.

I read the document and the "hearing" was scheduled as a phone hearing in front of a deputy representing the department. There's also a deadline to submit supporting documents. The very latest you could submit documentation for both the former employee and employer was within 24 hours before the scheduled hearing.

Over the next three or so weeks I gathered up years worth of notes from medical providers I had seen, statements from former employees, witnesses to both my mental state and the state of the office environment, etc.

When the office manager had left, they filed for unemployment (which they were justified in). The owner had laughed, drafted up false write-up forms, filed for an extension, and the office manager's claim was decided that the office manager didn't have enough proof and documentation--they hadn't bothered to turn in any--and lost their claim. Which means that the claimant has to pay back any money awarded. The owner and bookkeeper laughed and carried on, bragging about their "handiwork."

Now, I knew that there was going to be a fresh stack of fake write-up forms with my name all over them. I was the one who had authored the write-up forms. I've never once had a write-up form in any job I've worked. I waited until 10 minutes before the deadline, used an online faxing service, and faxed over copies of all of my supporting documents to both the former employer and the deputy for the hearing. Leaving the company no time to turn in any documentation. I kept copies of the faxes to both of them, along with the successful notification that they had been received by both parties.

If they had any documentation, they had to send it to both parties. Since I hadn't gotten anything from them or the deputy, I knew I was the only one walking in with ammo.

Upon further research, I discovered that I could attend the hearing in person. Which, I was more than happy too. Armed with a bulging folder full of evidence, collared shirt, tie, and a beaming smile on my face, I shook hands with the deputy and they called my former employer.

Bookkeeper answers the phone, we're sworn in, all documentation is listed and verified that it has been received, and they give the employer's side of the story.

My gods, to say that they bashed me would be an understatement. Speed bumps take less abuse. "I didn't work." "My work was sloppy." "I was rude to customers." "I refused to go into the office," and so on.

At this point, I'm honestly doing my best to keep quiet and not laugh. They even tried to say that because I was trans, I left because of that. Makes no sense, but ok. I give my statement; which I had written out and practiced several times before this hearing. All the while bookkeeper continually interrupts me and the deputy has to tell them to let me speak, as I did the same for them.

I finish and we start going through the evidence.

Of COURSE bookkeeper is waffling, saying they have evidence (emails and write-ups, both easy to fake since they controlled my employee email account) and starting to reference evidence that neither I or the deputy have received. The deputy has to interrupt them and state that anything they have is inadmissible since they didn't turn it in before the generous deadline.

They are livid and I can tell in the background that the owner is feeding them things to say. (Bookkeeper is not the sharpest spoon in the knife drawer.) Which was an old habit of theirs for anyone who answered the phone in the office.

I spend my sweet, sweet time going through the mountain of evidence I have. I'm interrupted several times and politely ask in my most honeyed of tones, "Bookkeeper, I let you speak freely, can you please do the same for me?"

They are livid. Both the deputy and I could hear the seething rage over the phone and the poor deputy just rolls their eyes over the course of the hour. Having to remind bookkeeper that they are under oath. As they made several contradicting statements. After hearing the evidence from both sides and several claims by bookkeeper of, "This is the owner's 'bread and butter,' you're taking food from their kid's mouths." To which, I calmly reply, "Oh! Excuse me bookkeeper, I'll keep that in mind during this hearing, and when I go to pay rent." The deputy got a chuckle out of that but had to ask me to "keep it civil."

To add to this buttery, decadent roll of sweet, sweet revenge; one of my witnesses was called who was a former employee. Not only did they back up my story, but they got to enjoy jabbing them back too.

Needless to say, a few weeks later I got the results of the hearing and the deputy had ruled in my favour. There was a period of time where both parties were welcome to repeal the decision and we would appear in another hearing. At that time, recordings of the exchange would be made available to both parties. They never repealed.

You would think this would be the end of my revenge. Admittedly, it's not bad, but not pro revenge material yet.

It Gets Better

Before I had left, one of the many bills that had been perpetually left unpaid were the insurances for the company. Which included their unemployment insurance. I smiled each time I deposited my check, knowing full well that there was a very real possibility that over 7k of my unemployment came directly from them.

But I wasn't done. My professionalism had been insulted and dragged through the mud.

You see, I knew nearly everything that was going on in that company. I had made their systems, documents, edited contracts, and was ingrained in nearly every aspect of their operation. I knew they were facing an audit by their former insurance provider.

I called their former insurer and spoke with the auditor. I detailed all of the OSHA, federal, and state violations. I also informed them of the paperwork forging that I had seen while I was there and of several unsafe practices. They thanked me for my time and I happily ended the call.

Next stop, the IRS. I made a report and gave detailed information in regards to their records and even provided why they were not able to file on time. Again thanked for my time and honesty.

Afterward, I decided to touch up with a few of my friends with the regional building department. They were more than happy to listen.

In the three years I had worked there, I had the opportunity to meet and get to know several local businesses and their assistants around town. I spent the next two weeks calling and emailing several key businesses in the area that were their suppliers, vendors, subs, and labour suppliers. I never said an untrue word, asked if they had time to talk, and summarily, was thanked for my time. Funny thing about their assistants too; they control scheduling and well, answer the phones. I'm on good terms with several of them and they backed my story.

Wouldn't you know it, their business address was mysteriously devoid of their trailer, equipment, and signs not long after. They still have an online presence and probably will as long as their family continues to bail them out.

I'm writing this after years because after working for several bad employers, I now have a good job with an amazing company that supports me. It's the result of my years of experience, credentials, and having to eat shit for all those years.

Tl;dr: Abusive employer abuses employees, tries to deny me unemployment, drags me through the mud during the hearing. I not only win my case, but report them enough to drive them out of their location and likely, business.

(source) story by (/u/27thFrequency)

#prorevenge #by /u/27thFrequency #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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taylorscottbarnett · 5 years ago

Link

“10 ominous and risky trend”

Nah. First you only list nine. One is basically listed twice.

Ok so this is my issue with this analysis, we have the attention grabber: “Called the 2008 Crash” however some form of recession usually hits every decade or so. Let us take a look at the predictions that didn’t pan out (and still haven't):

He predicted that foreign investors would stop financing the fiscal and current-account deficit and abandon the dollar, wreaking havoc on the economy. He said that these problems, which he called the “twin financial train wrecks,” might manifest themselves in 2005 or, at the latest, 2006. “You have been warned here first,” he wrote ominously on his blog. But by the end of 2006, the train wrecks hadn’t occurred.

Note, the economy may have crashed, but it had zero to do with foreign investors not financing debt. Throughout the economic crisis and the decade that followed, countries bought up US Debt like it was hand sanitizer and paper towels at the start of the COVID crisis. The world has also weathered the Greek debt crisis as well as the Italy’s issues, and Brexit with not much crisis to show for it, and what did happen was mostly temporary for the world economy. People have been issuing warnings about the aging crisis for decades, but it is not as hard to solve (for the US) as people assume. Yes social security, and medicare taxes and increasing intensives for companies and people to invest in saving for the future need to be increased. However, America’s aging workforce has two silver bullets: One, automation. In some estimates nearly have of all jobs can be automated in the next decade -- while that has it’s own set of issues, a worker shortage isn’t one of them. Secondly, as I’ve stated before, immigration reform would go a long way towards shoring up the US’ older workforce. The later comes with new workers contributing social security and medicare taxes to public coffers. The former can be taxed the same, just with new tax systems.

Let’s take a look at some of the issues he has declared the reason we are all doomed:

A third issue is the growing risk of deflation. In addition to causing a deep recession, the crisis is also creating a massive slack in goods (unused machines and capacity) and labour markets (mass unemployment), as well as driving a price collapse in commodities such as oil and industrial metals. That makes debt deflation likely, increasing the risk of insolvency.

Hey look while Republicans supposedly feared inflation when we were fighting the 2007-2008 financial crisis (one that I’ll remind you never occurred) and economists stated wouldn’t occur. Paul Krugman spent years warning about over-hyped inflation worries by policy makers.:

Recently the Federal Reserve released transcripts of its monetary policy meetings during the fateful year of 2008. And boy, are they discouraging reading. ... The economy was plunging, yet all many people at the Fed wanted to talk about was inflation. ...

As I suggested, we used to marvel at the wrongheadedness of policy makers during the Great Depression. But when the Great Recession struck, and we were given a chance to do better, we ended up repeating all the same mistakes.

But Republicans were up in arms, warning that the Fed’s policies would lead to runaway inflation. A Congressman named Mike Pence introduced a bill that would prohibit the Fed from even considering the state of the labor market in its actions. A who’s who of Republicans signed an open letter to Ben Bernanke demanding that he stop his monetary efforts, which they claimed would “risk currency debasement and inflation.”

Bernanke, Fed economists, and Keynesians in general were proved right: printing money isn’t inflationary in a depressed economy.

Needless to say, those warnings proved totally wrong. Soaring inflation never materialized. Job creation was sluggish at first, but more recently has accelerated dramatically.

K so let us move on to other issues shall we?

A fifth issue is the broader digital disruption of the economy. With millions of people losing their jobs or working and earning less, the income and wealth gaps of the 21st-century economy will widen further. To guard against future supply-chain shocks, companies in advanced economies will re-shore production from low-cost regions to higher-cost domestic markets. But rather than helping workers at home, this trend will accelerate the pace of automation, putting downward pressure on wages and further fanning the flames of populism, nationalism, and xenophobia.

Again, Automation is inevitable, and as I said earlier, a benefit and solution to an ageing workforce. One should also note this crisis has also been talked about for decades. It still never happened. Although many jobs have been automated, more jobs tend to come in and take the place of those lost jobs. Sectors of the economy die all the time. They get replaced. Automation isn’t going to necessarily be the death of the American worker -- if anything working less wouldn’t hurt us. There is a valid argument if you look at many of our peers, the American worker is overworked already.

This points to the sixth major factor: deglobalisation. The pandemic is accelerating trends toward balkanisation and fragmentation that were already well underway. The US and China will decouple faster, and most countries will respond by adopting still more protectionist policies to shield domestic firms and workers from global disruptions. The post-pandemic world will be marked by tighter restrictions on the movement of goods, services, capital, labour, technology, data, and information. This is already happening in the pharmaceutical, medical-equipment, and food sectors, where governments are imposing export restrictions and other protectionist measures in response to the crisis.

True, at the moment populism has had a nice multi-year run. de-globalization has been a goal of Donald Trump for his entire presidency. Trump will not be president forever. As our current COVID crisis has illustrated, he really is a carnival barker, and if anything has increased the odds of Biden becoming president and they were already pretty damn likely.

Under conditions of heightened economic insecurity, there will be a strong impulse to scapegoat foreigners for the crisis. Blue-collar workers and broad cohorts of the middle class will become more susceptible to populist rhetoric, particularly proposals to restrict migration and trade.

Again, this already happened with the election of Donald Trump. But take a look at just how close many of those state elections came: Michigan, Wisconsin, Florida and Pennsylvania -- A flu (and this would have been an illness far less destructive than COVID) could have affected the outcomes of those states -- and the election. A few thousand votes in a country that cast 138,884,643 ballots and had another 92,671,979 that could have voted but didn't won Trump the election.

This points to an eighth factor: the geostrategic standoff between the US and China. With the Trump administration making every effort to blame China for the pandemic, Chinese President Xi Jinping’s regime will double down on its claim that the US is conspiring to prevent China’s peaceful rise. The Sino-American decoupling in trade, technology, investment, data, and monetary arrangements will intensify.

Re-read my above two responses.

A final risk that cannot be ignored is environmental disruption, which, as the Covid-19 crisis has shown, can wreak far more economic havoc than a financial crisis. Recurring epidemics (HIV since the 1980s, Sars in 2003, H1N1 in 2009, Mers in 2011, Ebola in 2014-16) are, like climate change, essentially manmade disasters, born of poor health and sanitary standards, the abuse of natural systems, and the growing interconnectivity of a globalised world. Pandemics and the many morbid symptoms of climate change will become more frequent, severe, and costly in the years ahead.

Arguably COVID closings around the world and shelter-at-home orders have if anything given the world a chance to take a breath. Also if you are arguing a globalized world is a direct reason a pandemic like this will “become more frequent, severe, and costly” then wouldn’t it stand to reason de-globalization (that you claim will happen as a result of this pandemic) would make these event’s less likely to happen in the future? Which is it? It cannot be both.

Also am I missing something or do I not find a “seventh factor” in your post at all?

#the economy #recession #coronavirus #markets #politics

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tardis-sapphics · 5 years ago

Note

Ooh you said you were open to Thasmin prompts so may I suggest Thasmin + ice cream?

you guys seem to like your ice cream prompts don’t you

‘I can’t believe you got an ice cream van.’

The three of them are standing outside of Graham’s house, in various states of disbelief. Parked on the curb sits the Doctor’s new… acquisition, a monstrosity on the eyes, the gaudiest type of van to ever roam the streets of Britain.

‘I can,’ Yaz responds to Ryan’s open-mouthed utterance.

The Doctor, it seems, has bought an ice cream van that has intensified its own nature. Gone are the pretty pinks and the calm orange pastels of years before; this van boasts of at least seven different colours, all bold and bright and beautiful, splashed all over its exterior. On its front and rear twirl different cartoons, from iconic Looney Tunes characters to cartoon aliens that Yaz has never seen before in her life. She thinks she glimpsed a Scooby-Doo on the other side, too, but none of the rest of the gang. On the serving side of the van, the ubiquitous ‘Mr. Whippy’ logo takes up most of the room, a typeface copied on the front of the van. On the roof, two ginormous painted metal ice creams spin on an axis in tandem.

Yaz doesn’t even want to consider how obnoxiously loud the ice cream van’s jingle will be.

The Doctor has never looked prouder, of course. Her arms are wider than the sun as she shows off her newest hobby; her grin deep-set and all-encompassing. Her eyes crinkle with delight. She can barely contain herself.

It makes sense, Yaz thinks, that she would take this mission to the next level. Her exasperation is quickly dissipating: it’s easy to forgive the Doctor for her wild plans when they make her smile like that.

‘I…’ Graham stutters. ‘Doc, you’ve genuinely made me speechless. Proper speechless.’

‘Ey, and that don’t happen too much, does it?’ Ryan grins to Yaz.

‘It’s just…’ They wait, curious, as Graham tries in earnest to find the words appropriate for this moment. He constantly has to adjust his crossed arms, his eyebrows getting more and more furrowed. The Doctor has started lowering her arms by the time he reaches the right response. ‘H…How?’

Yaz shrugs. That’s fair.

The Doctor has endeavoured to inspect every inch of her new van, checking, no doubt, for any improvements she could make. ‘If you must know, I have a mate up in Leeds who sells them.’ She disappears behind the back of the van, though her voice still carries. ‘I say mate. I mean acquaintance.’ A pause. ‘I say acquaintance. I mean someone I met.’

Yaz hums. ‘You found it on the internet, didn’t you?’

The Doctor’s head pops up to the side, and she points a finger at Yaz. ‘But she were very lovely, I’ll have you know! She were dead pleased, said she don’t really get customers anymore. Unless, of course, they’re from—’

‘The United Federation of Ice-Cream Creators,’ the three humans echo in unison.

‘See; you’re learning!’ the Doctor crows, and appears only to disappear again, into the van to inspect its contents.

Buying an ice cream from the ice cream van in summer was a highlight of their repeated childhood memories, no matter which generation they belong to. Graham swears up and down that the vans haven’t changed much since he was young, though the ice cream van could park anywhere back then, unlike now with all these cars clogging up the streets. For Ryan, ice cream vans always indicated refreshment after playing out with his mates – he of all of them would appreciate the cool refreshment after all the hard work. Yaz’s prevailing memory is of her local ice cream van man: a walking Italian stereotype who refused to call any of the girls by a name other than Rebecca or Jessica. At several points throughout her childhood, Yaz was called both Rebecca and Jessica during one single purchase.

It’s with these memories in mind that they follow her into the van – not only because they tend to follow, but because, they, too, are curious. Stepping closer to peer inside feels like a betrayal of the childhood mystery, but they’re pulled to it regardless.

It simply looks off-white; functional, extremely claustrophobic, and a little underwhelming. But if the expression on her face is anything to go by, it’s the Doctor’s idea of paradise.

Yaz is the first to step inside. She’s the first to follow; she always has been. In the cramped line the space inside the van allows, Yaz becomes situated against the Doctor, pressed up close and comfy. It’s a happy coincidence that the Doctor’s arm has to reach over her shoulder to point at the whippy dispenser and the empty cardboard boxes waiting to be filled with 99 Flakes.

The Doctor choosing to rest her arm on Yaz’s shoulder afterwards is not such a coincidence. Ryan and Graham are taking the time to do their own preliminary investigations, passing comments to each other in the light tone they’ve both grown to depend on from one another. (This isn’t without difficulty, though. Graham is desperately trying to decode Ryan’s rhetorical question of whether screwball ice creams ‘deserve rights’.) Knowing the other two are distracted, Yaz takes the time to sink into the feeling of the Doctor around her, letting her head rest on the Doctor’s. She smells like honey, and engine oil, and peppermint. They breathe in together and revel in the feeling: the both of them free to display affection like this. Finally, finally.

It evolved slowly, intensifying, like taking a deep breath. First it was the handholding, electrifying when sparse and comforting when established; long looks and good-natured teasing were followed by hugs, and longer hugs, and holding on. Then came the peak, lungs filled with anticipation – clandestine kisses shared in the dark and in the quick moments. Settling into rhythms and understanding each other in ways they wouldn’t have otherwise.

Yaz knows what the Doctor’s lips taste like in the morning, and the exact way she likes her tea. She knows that the Doctor is ticklish on the insides of her elbows and the undersides of her feet. The Doctor has read and reread Yaz’s favourite childhood books, Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy, just so she can match Yaz’s pace and fervour whenever it is somehow brought up in conversation. Almost every time the Doctor holds Yaz’s hand, and especially when they’re alone, she’ll make the effort to flip her hand over and kiss Yaz’s palm with a tenderness that makes the other woman tremble.

In other words, Yaz is absolutely head over heels for the Doctor. And she’s pretty sure it’s being reciprocated, too.

Not that they’ve really verbalised what this is. Hand holding and kissing and genuine comfort is one thing; giving the dynamic foundational support is another. It’s the question that’s kept her awake almost every night since, but Yaz doesn’t want to break this. The Doctor tends to be slow on social cues, and Yaz doesn’t want to rush her.

The Doctor might just not be into labels.

‘What d’you think?’ the Doctor murmurs.

Being pulled out of one’s deliberations gets no less jolting – it does, in fact, take Yaz by surprise to a higher degree thanks to the Doctor’s proximity. Her lips are close enough to Yaz’s ears that she’d hear the Doctor whisper even over the din of the van’s engine. It does wonders for a part of her she’s not at all prepared to dwell on in an ice cream van. It’s this reminder – that the Doctor’s talking about a flipping ice cream van – that brings her to her senses.

‘I think you’re an idiot,’ she replies, bring up a hand to hold the Doctor’s hand so leisurely draped over Yaz’s body. The Doctor’s hands are cool, reassuring, where her own burn hot. ‘What happens if we’re still monitoring the Federation for longer than a week? Won’t you have to take it back and lose your cover?’

The Doctor frowns, an expression that moulds her lips into what Yaz and Ryan fondly call a “scronch”. ‘Why would I be taking this back if I bought it?’

Yaz sighs.

‘Doctor, I swear to—’

Quite a lot of Yaz’s life sounds like something out of a conspiracy theorist’s overactive imagination. Thankfully, the Moon landing was not faked; and the world, she can confirm, is overwhelmingly round – but she can personally attest to aliens walking amongst humans on Earth. And more besides.

Sometimes it’s so crazy that she can’t quite believe it herself.

If you told her two years ago that the ice cream van industry was being targeted by an alien species determined to steal the original Mr. Whippy recipe from Earth and claim ownership of the delicacy throughout the known universe – she would’ve laughed you out of the room.

But, well, here she is. Trying to stop ice cream thieves.

Ryan and Graham were assigned the roles of faithful customers, parading the scorching streets of Sheffield in order to build a rapport with the city’s ice cream sellers. All those pound coins being spent (mostly Graham’s) have, eventually, paid off: they’ve compiled an effective list of who they believe to be local Federation colleagues, aliens the four of them should attempt to befriend in order to get inside information.

It’s up to the Doctor and Yaz, then, to sell the alibi – and plenty of ice creams in the meantime. While it’s the Doctor who mans the van first and foremost, Yaz joins her when police work isn’t demanding her attendance. The ice cream selling is much more preferable to patrolling the county in a roasting police uniform.

Summer 2019 has been swinging, temperature-wise, from the boring to the truly worrying. In a week where the weather has alternated between torrential rain and record-breaking heat, the two women have had a wildly varying record of success. Sometimes they’ve sat with the serving window up to see no passers-by in sight. Not that they would be able to glimpse them, anyway, behind the incessant raindrops splattering the serving window. Other times, they’ve had impatient queues consisting of the entire park they’ve visited: harassed and harangued parents struggling to keep their kids happy in the sweltering heat; groups of kids in vital need of sustenance after all their playing; older residents cashing in on the opportunity to indulge in nostalgia. Such is British weather.

The Doctor has taken to selling ice cream like a duck to water. She may not be socially tactful, but her enthusiasm around people more than makes up for it. She makes the process of making ‘Mr. Whippy’ ice creams into a show for the kids to enjoy. She juggles the ice lollies before presenting them to her amused customers, despite the little space the ice cream van provides. She can be heard whistling the ice cream van’s jingle, ‘Greensleeves’, even after her work for the day is done. There’s a knack to ice cream selling, Yaz believes, and the Doctor has it in spades.

Sometimes they even forget they’re meant to be keeping a lookout for the Federation. It’s so easy to slip into this routine, switching between serving the public as a police officer and serving the public their much-needed ice cream. Spending her time with the Doctor, floating around each other in the van guided more by the touch of fingertips on familiar clothes than by sight; it feels like something they could get settled into.

Apparently it shows.

They get looks, the Doctor and Yaz. Very specific looks. Yaz is not often in the back of the ice cream van whilst the Doctor is serving, but whenever she makes her way down, hands on the Doctor’s back as she moves, she’ll sometimes catch a glimpse of recognition from the customers. The ice cream van is a two-way mirror through which society can look at itself – the Doctor and Yaz get a feel for the surrounding community, and the customers, too, get a feel for them.

Sometimes they’re parents, surprised to see such tenderness between two women. (Sometimes their acknowledgement is one of distaste. Not always, but sometimes; Yaz does her best to stare back, to make them uncomfortable.) Sometimes, they are gay couples, and the look passed between them is one of solidarity more than anything else.

Sometimes they’re just curious kids, learning more and more about the world each day.

‘Are you two girlfriends?’

Wearing a football shirt drenched with sweat, the girl stands and waits patiently with her mother for a well-earned 99 Flake.

‘Idha!’ the mother scolds her.

Amongst the recognition of her own mini heart attack, Yaz estimates that the kid must be about 9, no older. There’s no sort of disdain coming from her. She’s just a curious little girl.

Still, that doesn’t make answering her question any easier. Honestly, Yaz was just in the back to pinch a 99 flake. That mission has backfired massively. Her heartbeat picks up.

She knows what she’d like to say. She knows that whatever answer is given now will determine the answer to that question for a while yet.

Yaz presumed the Doctor was too busy concentrating on perfecting the twirl of the ice cream to pay attention.

But the Doctor takes her by surprise. One perfect ice cream is presented, Flake squished in, with an equally made-up smile. As Yaz opens her mouth to speak – to say what, she doesn’t know – the Doctor jumps in.

‘Me and Yaz? We’re partners in crime, we are,’ she responds, with a wink. ‘Not literally. She’s a police officer, you know.’

Partners in crime. Right.

(She can’t help but notice the disappointment fizzling in her body.)

This seems to placate both child and mother long enough for the significance of the question to be forgotten. They pay for the treat – the girl utters a very polite, ‘Thank you, miss!’ – and leave.

Yaz is returning to the driver’s seat to eat her Flake in peace, but the Doctor catches her eye for just a second as they manoeuvre around the small space. The Doctor’s gaze is acquiescent; filled with a longing Yaz can’t quite place.

‘Was that—?’

The Doctor’s words are cut off by the thump of a small child managing to catapult themselves straight into the ice cream van.

Alone time, when the great British public have not deigned the two women with their presence, is preferable for interests other than sugary cold treats. Especially when the clouds are dumping a month’s worth of rain in about three hours.

She’s been trying her hardest not to be distracted these past few days, but it’s easier said than done when it’s just been the two of them in this van. Their duty to the public comes first, of course, but in the midst of many an explicit look, Yaz has never been happier to forget her promise to serve the public their ice cream.

Besides, making out with the Doctor is so much more fun.

It’s a very middling Friday; after the ridiculous heat of Thursday, the temperatures have comparatively plummeted to around 21 degrees. The clouds overhead have sent kids running indoors, nervous about the deluge to come. A few brave souls have wandered on parched pavements, though; a couple of them have even wanted a cool treat.

Yaz’s shift doesn’t start until 7pm, so she’s free to assist the Doctor in her ice cream escapades for three more hours or so. On this slow day, she’s been the one doing the driving whilst the Doctor busies herself with stock-checking or fiddling with this strange handheld invention the Doctor has brought on board.

She can’t really understand it. There are at least three levers, and a winding gear. It has what Yaz can only conclude is a dog cone fixed hastily onto one of its ends. Whenever she has tried to ask what on Earth the entire contraption may be, the Doctor has been far too preoccupied to answer.

‘What are we even gonna do when we uncover the Federation ice cream sellers?’ she wonders. She has to make her voice loud over the sound of the engine, kept on even when they’re stationary in order to keep the ice creams cool. Getting out of the driver’s seat, she steps into the serving area to find the Doctor bent down, inspecting her rapidly depleted supply of strawberry syrup. The dog coned invention languishes at her feet, bleeping infrequently.

‘I dunno, really,’ is the Doctor’s reply, her voice stretched by her movement as she stands back up. Leaning with one hand on the van’s windowsill, she continues, ‘I’m definitely reporting them to the Shadow Proclamation, though. There are about 300 different laws on the issue of original content being stolen from species who haven’t developed enough to defend their planetary property – the Federation are breaking every single one of them.’

Coatless, with sleeves rolled back, she looks just a little more unkempt than usual, frazzled in the best way by a new hobby keeping her busy. She’s positively glowing – not from the regeneration energy, this time – and Yaz is a little more than attracted to the sight.

Yaz has to swallow it down. ‘But what about in the meantime? Surely the threat of the Shadow Proclamation won’t stop them from continuing their business right now?’

‘You’d think that, wouldn’t you?’ the Doctor muses. It’s hard, in a small space such as this, getting somewhere with so much energy, but Yaz can only describe her movement as floating – getting closer and closer to Yaz. ‘But no. The Redeto know just how little power they have in the universe. Stealing a soon-to-be popular recipe will pay off big time if successful, but the repercussions are huge. They know the stakes here.’ The Doctor shrugs. ‘Maybe if I promise I won’t rat them out.’

‘That’s if they give you an audience,’ Yaz points out. It’s a strong point, but it peters off into nothingness now the Doctor has moved so close. Their noses are almost touching. Yaz can see hazel green; wide pupils.

Her heartbeat is off the charts.

The Doctor doesn’t bother to attempt a corny line. There’s no need now she knows Yaz is unofficially, but totally, hers. Instead, her indication of intent comes in the form of nervous hands, swooping up to caress Yaz’s face. Everything is still new; with warm touch, Yaz’s skin is set on fire.

She is the one to push forward and press their lips together. It’s such a relief, every time, like breathing out after holding her breath for too long. They gasp for each other in between kisses and Yaz can feel it, that mutuality, that simplest of desires, to hold and be held. Her hands slip down the Doctor’s mustard suspenders, and she thanks her lucky stars that this feeling – this experience – is something she gets to indulge in. She’d be thankful for an only time. She’s lost count of how many times they’ve kissed now, and she grows every day in her gratitude.

She’s lost all sense of the outside world – just pressing herself further into the joy of it, the relief that comes with knowing the Doctor still wants to kiss. She’s quite forgotten that they’re stood at the serving area, kissing slow then fast, hard and tender, with open mouths and roaming hands.

She wishes she could do this all the time.

There comes a point where attention must be paid, however, to something else other than the Doctor. At a slow moment within the kiss, the Doctor stills and stalls in her previously successful endeavour of pushing her hands underneath Yaz’s jacket. Yaz immediately pulls away, regretting the absence of warm hands and confusion starting to crease her brow – until she hears it too.

Another engine. She tries to calm her heartbeat.

‘Is that…?’

‘Probably.’ The Doctor swallows, attempting to compose herself. ‘We’ve got company.’

Peeking through the serving area’s closed window, they can see an idling ice cream van. The décor is much duller than the Doctor’s – practical, toned down and perfect. It’s a perfectly respectable paint job for a perfectly respectable person – and that would be fine, of course, if it weren’t for the fact that the person in the van is very much not a person. Not a human person, anyway.

Yaz recognises the van right away – one of the people on the list. Ryan and Graham have known about this Redeto for a while, and they tasked Yaz and the Doctor to keep an eye on him. Apparently, they weren’t subtle. The stern, dangerous look on his face is indication enough. To his left, another person bends forward and makes himself known.

Two of them.

Knowing your cover might be blown is different to actually having your cover blown. Yaz keeps eye contact with the Doctor as their expressions slacken with dread. Was it their discussion? Was it Ryan and Graham? It doesn’t particularly matter.

The Redeto are not known for being considerate.

‘You alright to start driving the van?’ the Doctor asks politely, a light confidence in her voice that would be reassuring were it not for its total falsity.

Yaz gets to it. Their moment of being together is over, very over. With no small feeling of reluctance, she disentangles herself from the warmth of the Doctor’s body and makes her way to the driver’s seat, nearly tripping over the Doctor’s contraption as she does.

Almost three years of driving has prepared her enough for the small feat of piloting the ice cream van. Thereabouts, anyway. The van lurches into motion as soon as she eases her foot off the clutch and she grimaces, embarrassed. But they’re on their way.

The other ice cream van immediately follows.

Yaz swallows. They’re definitely within the realms of being chased now. This is new to her; she’s usually the one pursuing, checking for escape routes to block and ways to guide the target into stopping. On the flipside, the mounting pressure is starting to get to her.

She would not want to be in the shoes of a criminal, Yaz thinks. It’s bad enough being pursued by an ice cream van.

She takes a deep breath and presses down on the accelerator, hard. The van groans in response but reacts as best it can. It unsettles the Doctor’s balance in the back of the van.

‘Keep going, Yaz!’ she shouts, the bleeping from her invention almost a second rallying cry. ‘We can try to evade him!’

She’s on the flipside – but, Yaz realises, she can use that to her advantage. Her knowledge of Sheffield’s roads is bone-deep; better, she imagines, than an alien following the popular routes where customers would most likely be. She finds an opening and makes a sharp turn, the tyres screeching and the ice cream machines rattling raucously. Terraced houses whizz by; Yaz catches a glimpse of a mother in pyjamas putting out the bins; her eyes wide, her mouth open at the sight before – and then after – her.

This sort of scene would usually be accompanied by a dramatic film score; a heart-raising drumbeat, maybe a few electric guitars. Instead, the street is treated to the shriek of ‘Greensleeves’ as the ice cream van thunders past.

‘Yasmin Khan, you are my hero!’ the Doctor praises. ‘Nice job. Time to head for the TARDIS, don’t you th—’

‘Doctor, he’s back,’ Yaz interrupts, catching sight of him in her wing mirror. Just because she turned so quickly, it didn’t mean he couldn’t catch up. He must have found a shortcut too, she thinks. Damn. She switches gears to accommodate for the upcoming hill. A red light flashes into existence at the top of it, and a three-car-long queue has built up.

‘You’re kidding,’ she whispers. She has to stop. She is, after all, a law-abiding citizen – and a police officer. She’s the last person to defy a red light.

Waiting for the amber light gives the Federation ice cream van enough time to catch up. As they line up in adjacent lanes, the Redeto in the driver’s seat turns to look at Yaz. Yaz looks back, a disapproving frown planted very firmly on her face. And his smile widens into a smug. Weirdo, she thinks.

The green light returns, finally, and they are restricted by the cars in front for a little while. But, once more, as soon as Yaz sees an opening away from the queue, she takes it – tyres screech and the Doctor is thrown into the 99 Flakes box. The Federation van follows suit, and gains steadily as they run through a green, an amber, another green. Their van has more horsepower, the two women come to realise; once again the two ice cream vans line up. Yaz goes into another gear and speeds up, pushing past the speed limit, but it’s not enough to lose them.

The driver smiles at her again as he winds down his window. Yaz grumbles under her breath. Then the passenger leans forward again, this time having procured with a rather gun-like weapon.

She gasps – ducks her head. Just in time. The shot goes over her head, singing a couple of her hairs – and breaking both windows of the van’s driving compartment. It shatters with a high-pitched sound, and Yaz yelps.

The van veers to the left but she rights it. ‘Doctor, do something!’ she shouts over the noise of the engine. ‘He’s shooting at me!’

‘Yes, I saw!’ the Doctor shouts back. Yaz swerves the van onto another street – another residential area. Mercifully, there are no kids playing. The turn upsets the Doctor’s journey to the driving compartment, but with her free hand she holds onto the passenger seat.

The Redeto’s weapon, it seems, needs to power up again. Yaz takes the moment to glimpse at the Doctor – sleeves rolled up past her elbows, blonde hair flyaway, a few strands falling down past her forehead onto her face. There’s an intensity in the way she’s set her jaw. As she winds up the invention tucked under her arm, her right arm’s muscles tense and relax.

Yaz finds it amazing how, in the middle of being shot at, she still finds time to be wholly distracted by how impressive the Doctor looks.

Then they’re shot at again – the Doctor jumps back, Yaz compressing herself into a crouch – and she focuses on the task at hand. Namely, driving. They soar over a speed bump and the shock of the landing is particularly hard. Something in the back of the van breaks open. They return to a wider road. Still, the Federation van keeps up.

‘Now, Doctor!’ Yaz yells.

The buzzing of the Doctor’s contraption gets more and more frequent until it blends into one sound. A whirring starts up, like a whistling kettle, and the Doctor’s grin gets wide.

‘Show time,’ she breathes.

With a couple of steps, the Doctor places her body in the way of Yaz, so neither Redeto can destabilise the womens’ van. Hoisting the contraption onto her shoulder, she points the cone-end forward at the Redeto drivers and yanks down a lever. White hot light surrounds the machinery.

‘Oi!’ the Doctor shouts. ‘Stop shooting at my girlfriend!’ She presses a button, and a stream of white light gets propelled towards the Federation van.

Yaz and the Doctor speed away, but in the wing mirror, Yaz can witness what the contraption has done to their pursuers. The white light envelopes the surfaces of the ice cream van; with the two men stuck inside, they are caught in the consequences. The van completely freezes – momentum dissipating in the afternoon air – and nothing escapes. Not a sound, not a single movement. Hair does not sway. Arms do not collapse. The steering wheel does not turn.

They are simply suspended.

The sight of them in her mirror gets smaller and smaller, until they become inconsequential. Nothingness has never seemed so explicitly still. Yaz turns another corner and eases the van into a more residential-friendly speed. At this pace, the incessant ‘Greensleeves’ blaring through the ice cream van’s speakers feels less frantic.

Yaz huffs out a relieved breath.

‘Aw, mate,’ the Doctor beams from beside her. ‘I was hoping that would work.’

Yaz doesn’t want to entertain the alternative. ‘Wh-what was that?’ she asks. Her eyes are still on the road; even though the Federation van has been… apprehended, she still wants to get them as far away as possible.

The Doctor jumps into the passenger seat, already investigating the state of her contraption. The whirring has stopped, the light disappeared; the beeping, at least, is much more regular now. ‘That was a makeshift Time Stop,’ she explains. ‘Does what it says on the tin. I need this to reverse the effects, so they continue to be exactly how they were in the moment they got stopped, but by that time we’ll be much better prepared for them.’ She winds it up, and it bleeps at her. ‘I know, I know! Look, we’ll charge you when we get inside the TARDIS, alright?’ With that thought, she looks up at Yaz. ‘Can you head there now?’

Yaz nods, and changes direction.

It takes a minute or so of relative quietness – ‘Greensleeves’ is still playing, the twee high pitch fuelling Yaz’s irritation – when her brain catches up fully with the afternoon’s events. The tension of being pursued has melted away to reveal perfect memory.

She jolts in her seat.

‘Doctor,’ she says.

The Doctor jumps. ‘Yeah?’

‘You called me your girlfriend,’ Yaz states, her voice carefully devoid of anything emotional.

‘Yeah,’ the Doctor repeats, and the guilt seeps through. ‘Sorry; wasn’t thinking.’

Yaz keeps quiet, expecting the Doctor to elaborate.

It’s one of the hardest feats she’s ever achieved.

‘Sorry if that made you uncomfortable. Was just caught up in the moment, see. And when they shot at you like that – twice! – it just riled me up. Didn’t think.’ She pauses. ‘Should’ve had the conversation first, shouldn’t we?’

Yaz can’t keep the smile hidden any longer. A quick look to her left secures their eye contact. ‘I liked it,’ she shrugs, and in real time she sees the Doctor swell with delight. ‘You can keep calling me that, if you like.’

‘I will,’ the Doctor beams. She jumps up to attend to the serving area – but not before pressing a kiss to Yaz’s cheek.

The sheer joy of this revelation comes off the both of them in waves. Yaz thinks she may just appreciate ice cream vans a bit more now.

Sometimes her life is so crazy that she can’t quite believe it herself.

#doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #thasmin fanfiction #thasmin prompts #thasmin #thirteenth doctor #yasmin khan #idiot girlfriends #ryan sinclair #graham o'brien #team tardis #fic: more of the universe #i love writing dark and deep stuff #(see: i might brave the fire)#but sometimes you just need to write a small child yeeting themselves into the side of a van you know

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fortheheavenssake · 5 years ago

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Allegedly Anon 2

Oct. 3

ALLEGEDLY ANON, Tell me , why was himself attracted to such a spindly legged bint like nutmeg. It’s like watching a Popeye cartoon with Olive Oil telling him what to do. ( comparison photos please anyone) and now has involved himself in litigation on her behalf, as if this wilting violet is such a crushed petal …… really ‘REALLY!! ‘ she’s got a skin thicker than a Rhinoceros. It’s bad timing because of the exposure of the forthcoming vid. “ OMG it’s her”. Allegedly. Speculation of course.

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Oct 4

ALLEGEDLY ANON, The question is’ how far will the MOS go up the litigation hill before they settle OOC, or will they enjoy the Kabuki pantomime it will descend into? I don’t think the BRF wants a public circus in the high court of litigation ,then again I can imagine LG rubbing his hands together at the image of nutmeg swanning into court wearing a denim onesie, and reading a word salad statement prepared by SS describing her alleged trauma 😱😱😱🤣🤣🤣🤣Allegedly,speculation of course.

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Oct. 5

ALLEGEDLY ANON … is it all about archificial?????? O my ‘ a paternity suit. This is going to get quite interesting ‘ so will DNA be produced? Is archificial “ of the body ? I think their both pissed off with the truth. The SA nutmeg show was a disaster …… and for gods sake, what is Harry doing …… it’s now super Kabuki!!!! Allegedly, speculation of course.

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Oct. 6

ALLEGEDLY ANON, The creature from the BLUE lagoon and a few hundred itinerant yachts has set up Her father in a fait accompli regarding the leaked letter ‘ its perfectly ok for a gaggle of chums to blab about said letter , but when her own father claims misrepresentation he’s castigated on the world stage ……… vile women!!! I think LG will string her up by her pneumatic mammaries. Allegedly, speculation of course.

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Oct. 7

ALLEGEDLY ANON, once upon a time , on a yacht in an ocean far far away’ as MM ANON said its opinions ‘ if you install face recognition and then fast forward after reconstruction surgery then you can make an inspirational assumption its nutmeg, after all we have a lot of missing years and information. It’s funny how the media are V. quiet?? but then they have their own dossier on the dubious provenance of the DOS. ALLEGEDLY, SPECULATION OF COURSE.

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Oct. 8

ALLEGEDLY ANON, What’s with the coy 15 year old routine with nutmeg, this from a woman whose sucked more d*** than I’ve had popsicles , she’s got a past that would challenge Caligula, unless you’ve lived in a cave for the last 2 years everyone in the country knows what a POS this grifter is. Let’s hope the BRF gives her the big E. Allegedly, speculation of course.

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Oct. 9

ALLEGEDLY ANON, Canada ‘ move to CANADA!!! What’s she going to do, go back to suits as a Parailegal? I don’t think she will go anywhere near the commonwealth. She hates the RF. She’s disliked and despised. She’s at home more in Calipornia , return to the industry she knows best. This trash has alienated herself from everything she married into. Go home stay home. She’s a classless tramp. Allegedly speculation of course.

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Oct. 10

ALLEGEDLY ANON … kartrashian said “ nutmeg is changing the world ‘ Ummmm ‘ ok , how is that then , O’ I know, by lying about your father bankrolling you upbringing, abortions , having a child, yachting, escorting, tossing salads, golf girl , hockey girl , every ones girl, black and white movies, blue movies,THAT WEDDING ‘ THAT FAKENCY, THAT BIRTH, ARCHIFICIAL, SA. BABY, ……sue the MOS. good luck!!! Allegedly, speculation of course. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

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Oct. 11

ALLEGEDLY ANON,SS PR writes her word salad, a vacuous, empty, meaningless diatribe that’s supposed to encourage the audience that are in the unfortunate position of having to listen. PR key words written to trigger an emotional response. ENVIRONMENTAL, FEMINIST, DRIVEN, INSPIRATIONAL, SOLUTIONS , POSITION ,SPIRITUALLY POSITIVE, CONCLUSIONS, I could go on all day with her babbling bull$h!t. We see through you nutmeg!!!! Allegedly,speculation of course.

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Oct. 12

ALLEGEDLY ANON, hey skippy ‘ is nutmeg on public appearance anytime soon ‘ I’m looking forward to her facing the British MOS readers …… and the fortuitous anticipation of being booed. Unless the pubic are unlikely gracious she’s going to get a hammering. One can only hope , she’s an obnoxious toss-pot who thinks her $h!t don’t stink. Treated the BRF with utter contempt. A return to porn awaits,allegedly, speculation of course. 💩💩💩💩💩

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Pakistan Tour 14-18

October. 14

ALLEGEDLY ANON, HC’ 30.000 destroyed emails, never indicted …… Benghazi, and she’s got the gall to stick that yachting hooker on a pedestal!! Then slag off the BRF. YEAH RIGHT!!!! Thank goodness we have a REAL ROYAL COUPLE on an official visit with dignity and protocol at the fore- front. I’m a little pissed with colonial trash telling the British how to conduct their lives. F#@ck -em. Allegedly,speculation of course. 😤😤😤

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Oct. 15

ALLEGEDLY ANON , Hoping that nutmeg gets verbal distain from the British public today. 🤣🤣🤣🤣 can’t wait for anons to post.

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October. 15

ALLEGEDLY ANON, The escort in green , himself looks so pleased to be in the company of a (what) ‘I don’t know? What’s wrong with you Harry???????????? … this is becoming beyond Kabuki. Harry plays the game for the sake of HMTQ ……… ok ‘ all roads lead to the So- Hoe. Thank god for W&K ……… a borrowed archificial on SA …… see the photos, allegedly,speculation of course.

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Oct. 15

ALLEGEDLY ANON … 2/10 /19. BLIND ITEM #8

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Oct. 15

ALLEGEDLY ANON …… BLIND ITEM #8……OMG ‘ rhymes with Toss…… JOINTHEDOTS

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Oct. 15

ALLEGEDLY ANON …… BLIND ITEM #8 Oct 2nd. Read this and connect the dots. It’s not Ross ………rhymes with “late”(first name).

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Oct. 16

ALLEGEDLY ANON, Creech St Michael , has seen tinted Discovery’s heading towards the M5. In convoys. ( didn’t someone say she was hiding In Somerset. ) I’m sure there’s a nice soho sponsored hideaway deep in the rural sticks that she’s holed up in. Trouble is , there’s curiosity amongst the well heeled local pop. Allegedly, speculation of course. 👀👀 👀 👀 🕶 🕶 🕶

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Oct. 18

ALLEGEDLY ANON, “WHY DO THEY ALL HATE ME, IM AN HONEST DECEIVING BITCH, I HAVE AN ENGAGINGLY WARM SMILE 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣. “ IM HAVING A HARD TIME HERE PEOPLE, I DEMAND A LITTLE SYMPATHY!!!! “Well sympathy comes in the dictionary darling, it’s betwee $h!t and Syphilis. 🤣🤣🤣🤣 O’ please post this skippy, 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

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October. 19

ALLEGEDLY ANON, a focus group of 52 million British subjects would find that 78% dislike or have negative opinions about the colonial carpetbagger, 20% undecided and 2% don’t give a $h!t. Survey undertaken by the Sisters of Perpetual Retribution found that middle England and the upper classes have obnoxious contempt for the grifting bint while the working class seek the return of a happy go lucky Harry without the whining wife. All concluded that the BRF should get rid!! Speculation Allegedly.

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October. 20

ALLEGEDLY ANON, “ She’s just existing “ !!!!!! WT(F) existence on a life funded by taxpayers supporting your multi million pound lifestyle ( one million on posh frocks) 4 million on frogcott, private helicopter , private jets , itinerant jollies to see Elton, breaks in £10.000 a night S of France villas weddings in Rome , a gruelling existence in a luxury lodge at soho estate in Somerset, RPO continually, nannies, cooks , shags on tap, ……… Allegedly, speculation of course.

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Oct 21

ALLEGEDLY ANON, HMTQ and TBRF have collectively now ostracised the house of Sussex from their social calendar regarding functions and family events , the only contact will probably be official gatherings like Christmas and public appearance such as the Remembrance Day service which I doubt nutmeg will attend due to her being snubbed to another balcony last year. Harry has now gone public on his feud with William. Their socially screwd. Allegedly,speculation of course.

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Oct 21

IN PRAISE OF SKIPPYS BLOG , this amazing forum is the most tolerant I’ve had the privilege to post on. Thank you dear skippy for posting comments that perhaps sometimes go against ones beliefs. My utmost respect and acceptance. ‘ Your servant and respectful comrade ,ALLEGEDLY ANON.

I can’t say thank you enough…..or tell you how appreciated you all are! Thank YOU!😊❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Oct 22

ALLEGEDLY ANON:- There comes the time when one runs out of superlatives, descriptives, whatever ‘ then you want to tell everyone what you think and a silent hand goes up and you say “ no!! I can’t call her that. Well ‘ fuck it!!!! I’m going to. She is , and has always been a “Manipulative Whore.” Whore ‘ in its most blatant sense. In future Just use the acronym MW. I’ll know what you mean. Allegedly, speculation of course. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

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Oct 23

ALLEGEDLY ANON, …… purple PURPLE!!! really REALLY!!! The colour of royalty, not a one bit tramp with allusions of grandeur and a sideline in self pity. One little tit-bit that crossed my mind, the use of pharmaceutical enhanced performance. This conduct induces paranoias, believe me I’v been in recovery for 35 years , it’s a hard habit to hide from , and I bet it’s prevalent, uppers, downers , twisters , benders. Mmmmmm’ interesting!! Allegedly, speculation of course.

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Oct 23

ALLEGEDLY ANON … So !! She single handedly saved the monarchy ……… a yachting comforter who is a quid pro Quo whore saved a 1200 year institution from stagnation and decay. Some colonial carpetbagger with loose elastic grifted her a$$ into the BRF and manipulated a Prince who’s a founder member of the easily led club. EPIC !!!! and insults HMTQ last night by disgracing the colour purple.

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Oct 24

ALLEGEDLY ANON, After a year of PR disasters and faux pas nutmeg still doesn’t understand the secret of royal protocol success , simply put ,you “ quietly attract” rather than obnoxiously promote yourselves. W&K quietly grew into the hearts of The British psyche over a period of hard working years,three gorgeous children and a working royal marriage. Unlike the train wreck of this colonial whore dragged into England’s green and pleasant land. Allegedly, speculation of course. ( O’ Harry). 😔😔😢😢

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Oct 26

ALLEGEDLY ANON, So the bitch in Burgundy deciding to vacate her street corner and attend a kitchen meeting with a few collapsible tables and a portable screen. EPIC !!! got out of the electric Audi after a screaming row with himself and went all”power girl” in leather skirt no draws and plunging tits. WOW……… single handedly changing the monarchy 🤣🤣🤣🤣

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Oct 26

ALLEGEDLY ANON, So…… ‘ what next a black top with plunging tits ,a black leather jacket and leather slacks and Harry rides her in on the back of a Bonniville 120 to attend a “ save the children “ lunch at the Savoy Hotel , I can imagine her being intimately acquainted with the Oakley chapter……… word salad and tossed salad in equal quantities. ……… YEP!!! modernising the monarchy, that’s our nutmeg. 🏍🏍🏍🏍🤣🤣🤣

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Oct. 26

ALLEGEDLY ANON, …SS IS GOING TO TRY AND EMBARRASS HMTQ ON REMEMBRANCE DAY BY NEGOTIATING THE APPEARANCE OF THE HARKLES. EVEN IF NOT INVITED,THEY WILL JUST TURN UP. SHES DESPERATE TO SINGLE HANDEDLY MODERNISE THE MONARCHY 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

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Oct 27

ALLEGEDLY ANON, on reflection ‘ Skippy is right, I assume the old damaged wig will be in Calipornia during RD. Our Prince will be attending in his official capacity. Maybe K and C will be on the balcony with ST. GBHMTQAOGC

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Oct 27

ALLEGEDLY ANON ‘ it’s still an anathema to English subjects like myself who grew up remembering the The crowning of HMTQ IN 1952. at WA. That now you have an appendage yachting escort who a few years ago slept with anyone who would give her a leg over her social mobility. Hockey players , chicken chefs , golf pros any suckem and fuckums that crossed her akimbos. It’s a sad time for Britain. Ashley Cole ‘ you dodged a bullet. Allegedly,speculation of course.

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Oct 28

ALLEGEDLY ANON … Dear skippy, the audacity of this obnoxious creature,thinking she will be given the opportunity to speak,spout more of her vacuous word salad and send the audience into a premature coma. The royal family is in quite distain of her infantile manipulations effecting her blinkered husband. The colonial carpetbagger will soon return from whence she came to the rapturous delight of all Britain. Allegedly. Speculation of course.

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Oct 29

ALLEGEDLY ANON, the obnoxious colonial carpetbagger tells porkies!! Outrageous ,narcissistic ,self promotional, hang me out the window and beat me with the National Enquirer porkies !! Its endemic in her DNA , it’s like listening to cnn , she’s a psychopathic extolling conveyer of mendacious verbiage. I sincerely hope that this appendage that is constantly clawing at our once loved Prince retires to her origins … SOON. allegedly, speculation of course.

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Oct 30

ALLEGEDLY ANON ……… That letter had one , and only one project in mind ‘ via that carpetbaggers agenda!!! THE DESTRUCTION OF THE MONARCHY. That trashollop doesn’t want to modernise the monarchy ‘SHE WANTS TO DESTROY IT !!!!!!!!! Why do you think mostly LABOUR FEMALE MPs SIGNED IT. Duuuuuuuuur!!! Allegedly speculation of course

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Oct 31

ALLEGEDLY ANON, Since when did a colonial interloper and wife of a royal have the constitutional gall to write a letter of thanks to a sitting MP? Politics off limits!! The rumour mill is grinding away with innuendo and gossip stirring the “ royal sources” into a frenzy. I think there’s going to be quite a Sunday surprise imminent. The protocol illiteracy of nutmegs PR is embarrassing and sad ,where’s Henry 8th !! Allegedly speculation of course.

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Nov. 1

ALLEGEDLY ANON, are we supposed to be enthralled by this trash bag visiting a soho sponsored bakery with suspect hygiene. No hygiene gloves, no hand/ hair hygiene, the touching of the matted greasy wig the touching the cake, this video should be shown to the Westminster health inspectorate. No hair covering. There WORKING WITH FOOD PEOPLE ARE GOING TO EAT!!!! another PR pratfall.

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Nov. 1

ALLEGEDLY ANON,… some hacks have their tongue so far up nutmegs @rse that rational communication just becomes a sycophantic Dickensian “ ever so ‘umble, mam”. exercise in dickie licking. Such is the passion of their wanting to be associated with the great unwashed one. ( Fame by association )… example ‘ The Telegraph puff piece. I hope Harry is going to adhere to HM. script this weekend.

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Nov. 2

ALLEGEDLY ANON, ‘MORNING NUTMEG, “ I never wanted the media spotlight “🤣🤣🤣🤣, how’s all your contradictions going about media exposure? Media executives say you BEGGED them for exposure ( begging.?………thats another word for it.) how’s our oracle on instant gratification this morning, all those trips on yachts must have had lots of moments of “ instant gratification” and let’s not forget SH and MA. …a tad wounded nutmeg? Allegedly, speculation of course 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤥🤥🤥🤥

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Nov. 2

ALLEGEDLY ANON,……… THE MOST DISRESPECTFUL INSULTING APPEARANCE SO FAR , MILLIONS GAVE THEIR LIVES FROM AMERICA,GREAT BRITAIN AND CANADA IN BOTH WORLD WARS. …… ‘ this disrespectful tramp turned up to be recorded on film without the world wide symbol of respect for the fallen ‘ the Poppy. HMTQ must have duly noted. social ineptitude on purpose. The final insulting straw.

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Nov 3

ALLEGEDLY ANON, Ostracised, financially bereft, ignored and despised. An outed grifter gone rogue. This notary of Babylonian reputation and suspect sexual indulgences will allegedly grace one of the hallowed balconies of Whitehall on Remembrance Sunday. She will contaminate the great and the good patrons of the monarchy of the British public. Please feel free to booooooooo !!

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Nov 4

ALLEGEDLY ANON, WAS NUTMEG SCARED TO APPEAR?? This question is at the top of everyone’s agenda after reports that the colonial carpetbagger has fled her unoccupied cottage in Windsor and jumped on a private jet to LAX. The no.1 priority of slutchess disaster is to avoid being verbally castigated by the public at the RAH Saturday night tribute remembrance service. Also it saves her isolating appearance on The hallowed balcony the next day. A joyous departure for Brits. 👋👋👋👋👋👋👋👋

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Nov 5

ALLEGEDLY ANON, RE-REMEMBRANCE FIELDS. Expect nutmeg to push ahead of H. Expect it to wear a rainbow poppy, expect her to look for the cameras, expect her stupid rictus grin, as Skippy comments,expect the unexpected. The public once again are dismayed that Camilla will accompany the colonial carpetbagger on this memorable occasion honouring the fallen. I thought it was illegal to drop trash in the hallowed fields. Expect a complete lack of protocol. Allegedly, speculation of course.

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Nov 6

ALLEGEDLY ANON, Dear Skippy The British public are a reserved but unforgiving lot when one tries deception which nutmeg has indulged in. Sooo , if the slutchess and himself appeared together without a minder they would be open to verbal ridicule …… enter stage left Camilla ‘ decorum and protocol would stifle any and all booing from the public,even though they would probably love a good Booo. We wait. Allegedly, speculation of course.

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Nov 6

ALLEGEDLY ANON, NUTMEG to have 2nd child in USA’ FFS, well there’s already a child around according to the Golf organiser where you were a caddy escort, O’ when did you have a child in the U.K.?you mean archificial?? The surrogate dump? Surrogates in the US are ten a penny in Calipornia so a 43 year old grifting yachter won’t have a problem giving “birth” there. You can pay a Surrogate out of the 5mill. Docudrama you’re making in LA. ALLEGEDLY, SPECULATION OF COURSE.

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Nov 6

ALLEGEDLY ANON … THE ROYAL PREROGATIVE. HMTQ. is the head of our 1200 year Monarchy. There was a time in antiquity when only the head of the monarchy could wear the colour PURPLE!! This is so relevant to today’s protocol and practice. Sooooo !! let’s not dilute this ageless and respectful practice. “ are you listening slutchess!! “ ONLY HMTQ …… OK’ good!! now carry on doing what you do best at Soho ho ho ho. Allegedly ,speculation of course

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Nov 7

ALLEGEDLY ANON, Alleged conversation between nutmeg and MA “yeah’ $h!t, tell me about it, stroking his bald f**** head, pretending to be having the best orgasm, haven’t had a decent screw since Madrid. When I come over we’ll hook with George in Malibu, get rat-@ssed , make a weekend of it, NO!! don’t call me, there f*** monitoring my phone, OK sweetie , can’t wait, bye”……… “ yes LG the conversation was recorded by one of our team in the RPO.” … “OK Tony , file under “Your Fu****d.”🤣🤣🤣

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Nov 9

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Nov 11

ALLEGEDLY ANON …… remarks about nutmegs upper lip, all I can surmise is herpes , an old affliction resurfaced. God knows, knowing what we know about her colourful history it wouldn’t surprise me that any number of maladies would have infected her, escorting ,Yachting, So-hoing, auditioning, golf-caddying, friends of porn-stars, hockey players,……… social diseases are an occupational hazard. Allegedly, speculation of course 😷😷😷😷😷

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Nov 11

ALLEGEDLY ANON, “ you wanted to see me Gran, “ Yes Harry, about you both slipping into the royal box , protocol depicts placement Harry!! You both sit at the back for a reason, she’s not a royal, and Harry’ her dress was inappropriate for the occasion, one exposes ones cleavage on reality shows , not honouring the fallen. Now pop off to America and try to be a Little understated, remind your wife to return those earrings. They belonged to Queen Mary, remember Harry, discretion not obsession.

And here is why I don’t believe you. Harry is NOT leaving, I hardly doubt HM would be so calm…..and second…MM NEVER borrowed any jewelry from HM! That is fake! Those earrings were cheap…..only HM wears Queen Mary’s pearl earrings….MM has NEVER worn them…..this conversation NEVER happened! And another thing…….Harry would not have moved seats without permission…not that close to HM!

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Nov 11

ALLEGEDLY ANON, ALL HAIL THE DOC. O dear sweet Kate, elegance personified!! On the balcony with HMTQ and Camilla, dressing as You always do , class and dignity. That Cossack style coat with matching (fascinator) or hat. The most photographed woman on the planet. This is protocol and the Royal Family in all its mystique. Long may it live Thank you dear Skippy for posting so many tributes to the mother of our most loved George,Charlotte and Louie. 🙏🏻🙏🏻🦄🦎🧸

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Nov 11

ALLEGEDLY ANON … IMAGES OF A DESPERATE ESCORT … of all the slutty images we have seen over the last two years( too many to mention) there are thousands that her PR destroyed that would compromise her position as a wife of a member of the royal family. Is this the dossier that the DM paid a million pounds for, and the intel. that LG has onmegatramp, that face of a thousand smirks says it all “ I’m untouchable”. Where have those lips been Harry??Ughhhh !! Allegedly , speculation of course.

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Nov 13

ALLEGEDLY ANON, Expect nutmeg to hook up with HRC during the next few days , mutual hugging and @ss kissing. Dorito will appear in a out of focus photo with Harry and nutmeg, a PR statement will announce another pivotal ploy that she will go to the states but may return to be at Sandringham for Christmas, or may not. All smoking mirror Kabuki for the tabloids to drool over and lay false trails. Actually nutmegs in the Caribbean soaking up the men. Allegedly. Speculation of course.

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Nov 13

ALLEGEDLY ANON, “ were going to LA , NOooooo were staying here!! O’ going to Sandringham then , Noooo, were gonna feed the ‘omless at shelter nr Windsor, feed them what , you know Turkey and stuffing,an Brussel sprouts an stuff!!! I’ll take archificial for the sympathy vote , look all humanitarian like’ Haz can f***off to see his gran and I’ll dump archificial on Dorito,then I’ll shlep off to So-Ho house for a quick shag with MA.… 🎼jingle bell,jingle bell,jingle bell c**k. 🎼 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

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Nov 14

ALLEGEDLY ANON, dear skippy, I know this great blog is not political but KAC just Blitzed ,Wolf Blitzer on CNN , EPIC!! …… The Queen is reported by the DE That she “drops in” on our dynamic duo because nutmeg needs “ cheering up”, and so she has a cuppa with the depression prone actress drawing on her years of experience to inject some positivity, yeah right!! 🤣🤣🤣 we all swallow that bull$h!t. Sunshine Sucks in disaster mode again!! HMTQ DROPS IN ON NUTMEG!! … WTF!!

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Nov 14

ALLEGEDLY ANON, She was pregnant? A shotgun marriage of unhappy people, a WTF wedding cake, a very hurried guest list, no pomp no carpet, only a narc would walk alone down the aisle alone with the knowledge you’ve got him by the b***. A very strange fakency, no record of actual birth date, FFS birth certificate, “ he’s changed over two weeks” , “ can we see his face.” WE ALL WITNESSED HER LIES, WE ALL SUSPECTED SOMETHING ODD. WE ALL KNEW. IF SHES HONEST , WHY THE AGGRESSIVE PR?? 🤔🤔🤔

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Nov 14

ALLEGEDLY ANON, THIS VIDEO OF THE BUMP POPPING WHEN SHE STANDS UP. nutmeg looks very self conscious and embarrassed. ( build-up of air within the prosthetic and a rapid exhalation of compressed air. ) sounds like a “pop”. She compresses the prosthetic when she bends down and air is rapidly expelled as she stands up. POP!! Anyone still think she was REALLY pregnant??? Didn’t think so.

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Nov 14

ALLEGEDLY ANON, Rebecca English , HRC visits nutmeg and archificial Hold up , hold up, didn’t I mention this earlier this week ……… the old hack has stolen my scoop !!!!! Can’t give out good information without it getting nicked by the DM and there desperate scribes. Remember …… YOU SAW IT FIRST ON SKIPPY!!!!

*******

nov 13

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Nov 14

ALLEGEDLY ANON, So, Rebecca English writes today “EXCLUSIVE” HRC visits nutmeg, ON THE 13th , two days ago Allegedly anon writes , HRC WILL VISIT NUTMEG!! , all we can conclude is that RE gets her information on SKIPPY!!! like so many informants proclaiming scoops they see IT FIRST ON SKIPPY!!! And we all know nutmeg visits here. And HMTQ god bless her. Nutmeg reads the blog and then goes up to her bedroom and cries😭😭😭😭😭😭

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Nov 15

ALLEGEDLY ANON, HRC was reported to visit nutmeg and archificial ……… but NOT APPEARING ON COURT CIRCULAR “ Sooooo BS !! It’s all a PR push with the tabloids trying to put some lipstick on this propaganda pig. Rebecca English trying for a try, whooooops , tabloid tosh. Where are your receipts , “ well actually I haven’t any” “ I just printed the gossip” sources darling, sources !! It’s suggested that you’re a good journalist, but that’s gossip, allegedly, speculation of course.

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Nov 15

ALLEGEDLY ANON, THE DEADLY DIARIES, O, yes the Machiavellian manipulator has a diary, ( actually she’s on her third) an intimate record of conversations, events and observations that has “ affected” the “ I’m not OK” Woke scribe over the , leading up to, wedding and disasters afterwards. And don’t let us forget all the “ pillow-talk” she’s chronicled. She’s gathered more $h!t on the royal family over the past year that defies comprehension. speculation of course. Publication imminent allegedly.

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Nov 18

ALLEGEDLY ANON, WELL, here’s a thing, nutmegs coercion of Harry to skip Christmas with the family seems selfish and petty, both PP&HM in their nineties need the love and support of the royal extended family, nutmeg has a younger mother and plenty of years to indulge her self-centredness. She’s not helping the damage limitation by swanning off to Malibu in her poo hat. 💩💩💩… allegedly,speculation of course.

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Nov 19

ALLEGEDLY ANON, The “ court of public opinion” and “trail by media” is a popular hysterical pastime, the peeps need drama , what would we do without the constant daily shower of innuendo and hearsay, gossip and third hand “quotes” from the ever sensational “Tabloids”. Headlines are contagious, insidious deformation of character is the rule of day wether true or false. I’m guilty of jumping on the bandwagon of conjecture. BUT … I suggest we all wait and see. IUPG. allegedly speculation of course.

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Nov 20

ALLEGEDLY ANON, BC logged 26 recorded trips on Epstein’s private jet. “ my friend Bill Clinton sat on that seat”,Epstein said to a pubescent jet traveller as she flew to an assignation with the paedophile Billionaire. MSM seems to have air brushed this out of the public conscience, while castigating PA , BC seems to have very powerful press Associations. S’pose nobody wants to be suicided. Allegedly, speculation of course 💀💀💀🤣🤣🤣

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Nov 20

ALLEGEDLY ANON, PA has fallen on his sword, for whom?? Wellllllllllllll! …… BC and his Arkansas cabal has all the tapes, the FBI , has tapes. but, BC has “THE” tapes. Allegedly there were over 15 cctv cameras in his NY mansion. Hypothetically these tapes would hold very incriminating evidence on most guests visiting the Machiavellian mansion. Teflon bubba has complete immunity from association with young girls to murder. Unfuckingtouchable!! Allegedly speculation of course. 💰💰💰💰👯‍♀️👯‍♀️

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Nov 21

ALLEGEDLY ANON, Nutmeg courted by Marvel Pictures, Sony, and Disney on arrival in LA. This opens to conjecture her ambitions while in negotiations with said production giants. Courting future ambitions for a return to her former occupation she is using her celebrity to get a foothold into Hollywood ?………… will PH follow??🤣🤣🤣🤣

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Nov 22

ALLEGEDLY ANON … SO… Nutmeg takes down her Wikipedia post on being a “deal or no deal” hostess!!!! Trying to airbrush her dubious past. There’s an interview with a golf tournament organiser about hiring “deal or no deal girls” as “caddy’s”. She said nutmeg as married, and had a “KID” and was very popular girl with the golf pros. Mmmmm ‘ someone let the “KID” out of the bag. Allegedly, speculation of course.

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Nov 22

ALLEGEDLY ANON, I wonder if the cancellation of “ Breakfast in America “ has anything to do with the Epstein forthcoming revelations. Nutmegs been banging on about America’ America, for ages,suddenly it’s all off. I believe she has “history” with PA ( yachting) And with JE&GM procuring?? ( hidden years). She’s gone all incommunicado since PAs disaster interview. PA should suggest,turn up at Hamley’s with archificial buying Christmas presents. Allegedly,speculation of course.

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Nov 23

ALLEGEDLY ANON, WHERE IS NUTMEG, not at frog cottage, she’s still smarting from being fobbed off with a “cottage” instead of a palace that she spends her time at itinerant different crash-pads in and around the Capital. Secrecy is paramount when protecting nutmeg and archificial, ………… but wait!!! Nobody has ever seen archificial, is he real???? Was he EVER REAL?? nobody knows,nobody cares anymore. Maybe Harry will shed light. Allegedly, speculation of course 🤫🤫🤫

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Nov 23

ALLEGEDLY ANON, with respect, the monarchy is a dignified elder statesman ruling with ageing concepts that haven’t changed for over 50 years. With it come the problems of cosseted contempt. There is redemption, W&K have the professional ability to change and add a new reality of “ we the people” to the monarchy as a young “Family”. Everywhere they go they trailblaze fresh and new examples of a monarchy for the 22nd century. LETS LET THEM!!

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Nov 24

ALLEGEDLY ANON , One thing my little birdies tell me that’s a consensus among the royal family and it’s this. Nutmegs atrocious taste in clothes. The colonial carpetbag has never sought advice from the younger well dressed royal women on he wardrobe, hence she remains the worst dressed offender in Windsor. And no amount of PR spin can correct that. So she’ll remain an assault on the visual senses for The distant future, poor us. Allegedly, speculation of course.

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Nov 25

ALLEGEDLY ANON, POTUS /Melania will stay with the ambassador to the court of St. James and the siblings will probably stay in the same hotel as last year while in London, expect Ivanka to contact nutmeg. The banquet will be a very formal and stiff, Trump will give an address but drift off script, HMTQ will remind all of the importance of NATO. Kate will steal the show and William will endorse his king in waiting credentials. A cool evening. Allegedly, speculation of course.

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Nov 25

ALLEGEDLY ANON, Nutmeg is going to choreograph her Christmas card photo because she’s jealous of Kate’s talent in photography. The Green eyed monster is alive and flourishing at frog cott. or wherever she’s sleeping these days,expect a horrifying snap of ginge&cringe with archificial at a suitably obscure location. We wait with baited indifference. 🧣🧣🧣🧣

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Nov 25

ALLEGEDLY ANON, MM said she’s being pitted against the DOC. ………… Ehhhhh , Nutmeg ‘ QUEENS don’t compete with hoes. The Monarchy is the privilege of few , a hoe is a hoe is a hoe. …………… yacht sluts are ten a penny, no matter hoe they married. Allegedly, speculation of course. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

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Nov 27

ALLEGEDLY ANON, back in LA and attempted the most difficult of tasks, cooking a dinner? yep’ nutmeg has decided to roast the turkey. OMG, how will she cope ‘ frantic phone calls to Cory, are the roast potatoes crispy, do I put the pigs in a blanket on an hour before the turkey has finished? are The Brussels Firm or soft ? WHAT ABOUT THE GRAVY?? yes nutmeg it’s a nightmare, and your skills are only good in one domain. Not the kitchen!! Allegedly speculation of course. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🦃🦃🦃🦃

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Nov 27

ALLEGEDLY ANON, THE AGE ISSUE !!!! how old is nutmeg?? my sister is 53 and thanks to PGs wrinkle cream she looks 33. But nutmeg is “ supposedly is 38 but looks 48, her actual age is 43. Another fakency,yehhhh, good luck with that one ‘🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 wants to find another surrogate for a birth in LA. How does Harry live with this fantasising bint. , O yes ,that’s right ‘ he doesn’t !!! Hey nutmeg how’s the Turkey doing?i smell burning. 🦃🔥🔥…… Allegedly ,speculation of course.

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Nov 29

ALLEGEDLY ANON, we now have video footage of a brave member of the public tackling a terrorist with a s/vest strapped to him , the police pull him clear then shoot him. Sanity is restored, don’t fuck about, just shoot the POS. BRAVA MET POLICE. lot of isis returned from Syria recently and more released from jail. They have contaminated our once beautiful city , GSTQAOBC.

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Nov 30

ALLEGEDLY ANON, WHERE’S THE BABY ?? The most disturbing appearance was at the polo match when she wore the green tent. Nobody acknowledged her or the doll she carried around “RE-WATCH THE VIDEO” that was a seriously disturbed individual. ITS TIME THE PRESS RELEASES ALL THE EVIDENCE THEY HAVE IN CAMERA. How many of the public haven’t seen her barbecue ad? or the undressed maid. Better still , sex on the Jamaican balcony?? ALLEGEDLY SPECULATION OF COURSE. 🤣🤣🤣

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Nov 30

ALLEGEDLY ANON, DEAR SKIPPY, OUR PRIMARY PURPOSE IS THE CONVICTION OF THE COLONIAL CARPETBAGGER, I shan’t loose focus on this procedure, to expose her grifting, lies and entrapment of a Prince. The fakency, illusion of a birth, the doll months , the non appearance of Archificial, the “ soup kitchen “ thanksgiving lie, the ‘ I’m hiding in America,Canada, Calipornia lies. Actually she’s holding up with her minders in SOHOE. trying to arrange her next faux headline.

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