#Burn Care Centers Market

[soumyafwr]

Burn Care Centers Market Size, Analysis and Forecast 2031

[marketresearchtrendsandinsights]

Burn Care Centers Market trends growth & Analysis

https://www.researchnester.com/reports/burn-care-centers-market/6212

[industryforecastnews]

Burn Care Centers Market Size To Reach USD 31.9Bn By 2030

Burn Care Centers Market Growth & Trends

The global burn care centers market size is expected to reach USD 31.9 billion by 2030, as per a new report by Grand View Research, Inc. The market is projected to expand at a CAGR of 4.2% from 2023 to 2030. The increasing global caseload is responsible for nearly 180,000 mortalities each year, as per the WHO. The majority of these incidences and accidents occur in lower-middle-income countries in the Asia Pacific and Latin American regions. The current market is witnessing an overall increase in the cost of care, which is a major driver behind the growth of the market.

According to an article published on UpToDate, burns rank 4th in the common types of trauma, on a global level. It also states that low-middle income countries despite having high incidences of trauma, severely lack the necessary infrastructure and means to manage these patients. Another article published in Annals of Burns and Fire Disasters states that treatment and care in most of these countries are often delayed. Rural areas are more severely impacted due to the lack of proper medical facilities. For instance, in Ghana, only 48% of Pediatric injuries are treated at modern healthcare facilities.

In the facility type, the in-hospital type held the largest revenue share of more than 51.1% in 2022. The majority of developing and underdeveloped nations have a scarcity of specialized treatment units, due to which the patient load or volume goes to in-hospital settings. In these countries, the cost of care at specialized treatment units is much higher and is another reason why in-hospital settings record the majority of admissions. However, the stand-alone centers are forecasted to see a surge in growth rate. This can be credited to the growing need for the quality of care and management of patients that these units are capable of delivering.

In the treatment type, the largest revenue share was held by the wound-debridement section. It is the standard procedure in case of all injuries, this not only helps in avoiding infections but also promotes faster healing resulting in better outcomes. The highest growth potential has been exhibited by the pain management section for treatment type. Pain management in patients has come to be of paramount importance even when deciding the kind of wound dressing to be used for the patient. The pain during the healing process can have severe psychological implications due to which the recovery can be hampered, this is a primary driver for growth in this treatment type. A research article published in the Burns journal stated that the patient population studied considered several important factors while considering the type of dressing, nearly 80% responded with pain-free dressings as the most important characteristic.

The partial-thickness burns segment held the largest revenue share in 2022. The majority of the cases fall into the category of less than 10% TBSA. Partial-thickness wounds if not treated timely and properly can fester into infections and can turn fatal. The fastest growth is to be exhibited by the full-thickness burns and require management at specialized medical centers which are capable of providing advanced surgical and non-surgical interventions in care management. The in-patient services segment held the largest revenue share in 2022, owing to the increasing cost of treatment. There has been an overall decline in the annual number of cases, especially during COVID and otherwise as well. Workplaces have fire-safety norms in place to better manage situations to avoid accidents. The cost of care, however, has risen, and thus the market is growing. It is expected to grow lucratively during the forecast period.

North America accounted for the majority revenue share of over 44.1% in 2022. The region has the largest number of specialized burn care units, totaling to 120, across the U.S., many of which are verified by the American Burn Association. The reimbursement plans for patients also significantly support the growth of the North American market. The fastest growth however is being seen in the Asia Pacific region. This can be attributed to the improving healthcare infrastructure due to increased healthcare spending. As per World Bank data, East Asia and Pacific’s annual healthcare spending in 2019 was 6.7% of the region’s GDP, higher than the 2018 value.

The lack of proper resources has also been providing a necessary push to the concerned authorities to bring about the formation of specialized treatment units in the region’s countries. The above-listed reasons are contributing significantly to the growth of the market. There was an overall decline in the number of patients going to burn care units in hospitals or burn centers, the major focus was on the COVID-19 pandemic. However, due to global lockdowns and cross-border trade restrictions, the cost of materials and amenities shot up, ultimately increasing the overall cost of care being delivered to burn patients across the globe.

Request a free sample copy: https://www.grandviewresearch.com/industry-analysis/burn-care-centers-market  

Burn Care Centers Market Report Highlights

The market revenue is expected to reach USD 31.9 billion by 2030. The increasing need to find specialized care for burn patients is driving the market

The in-hospital segment bagged the largest revenue share owing to the limited number of specialized units

The pain management segment is anticipated to emerge as the fastest-growing treatment type for burn patients across the globe

Burn Care Centers Market Segmentation

Grand View Research has segmented the global burn care centers market based on facility type, procedure type, burn severity, service type, and region:

Burn Care Centers Facility Type Outlook (Revenue, USD Million, 2016 - 2030)

In-hospital

Standalone

Burn Care Centers Procedure Type Outlook (Revenue, USD Million, 2016 - 2030)

Wound debridement

Skin graft

Wound management

Respiratory intubation and ventilation

Pain management

Blood transfusion

Infection control

Rehabilitation

Burn Care Centers Burn Severity Outlook (Revenue, USD Million, 2016 - 2030)

Minor Burns

Partial Thickness Burns

Full Thickness Burns

Burn Care Centers Service Type Outlook (Revenue, USD Million, 2016 - 2030)

Inpatient

Outpatient

Rehabilitation

Burn Care Centers Regional Outlook (Revenue, USD Million, 2016 - 2030)

North America

U.S.

Canada

Europe

Germany

U.K.

France

Italy

Spain

Russia

Asia Pacific

Japan

China

India

Australia

South Korea

Latin America

Mexico

Brazil

Argentina  

Middle East & Africa   

South Africa

Saudi Arabia

UAE

List of Key Players in the Burn Care Centers Market

LAC+USC Medical Burn Center

Weill Cornell Medicine William Randolph Hearst Burn Center

Temple University Hospital Adult Burn Center

Parkland Memorial Hospital Regional Burn Center

Medstar Washington Hospital Center

UMC Lions Burn Center

Burn and Reconstructive Centers of America

Pediatric Burn Care Center (The General Hospital Corporation)

University of Rochester Medical Center

Chelsea & Westminster Hospital

St. Barnabas Burn Center

National Burns Center

Browse Full Report: https://www.grandviewresearch.com/industry-analysis/burn-care-centers-market  

[emoangel44]

The thing I've always loved most about aa4 is how much darker the tone is than the rest of the series in a way that isn't just edgy for the sake of it, but subverts your expectations from the original 3 games in a really interesting way. The trilogy was built upon the trust Phoenix had in others, and it was something we as players could almost always feel certain in. AA4 flips this on its head and makes it so Apollo effectively can't trust anyone but himself.

Your mentor, who the in the trilogy was a paragon of wisdom you could always turn to no matter what, gets revealed to be the culprit and sent to jail in the first trial and by the end of the game his list of crimes has stacked high but you still have so few answers on why he did any of it.

Your boss, the goofy protagonist of the trilogy, is now inexplicably a washed-up, disgraced, cheating poker player with an implied drinking problem who seemingly found a new hobby in evidence forgery and jury rigging.

He has a codependent relationship with his daughter, your assistant, who usually is a completely innocent and hapless victim of circumstance. She sees herself as the provider for the house and will help her father cheat at poker, or forge evidence, or guilt trip the poor attorney they knowingly screwed of out of a job into working for them for dirt cheap.

The detective, the only other returning main character, a previous assistant, is completely changed since we last saw her. In the trilogy she was chipper and bright despite the hardships she faced, and now she's unfriendly and burned out, turned bitter by the world. The scene we're first properly introduced to her in Apollo genuinely spends several minutes thinking his boss is making him bribe her with cocaine.

Every single defendant is a criminal guilty of something other than what they're charged for. Each case centers around an underground black-market poker ring, a mafia family and medical malpractice, a smuggling ring, and a family of forgers and an incredibly shady troupe of magicians. The one thing all of these people have in common is that none of them will tell you literally anything about what's happening, half of them clearly reveling in being as big of cryptic assholes as possible.

The only person who doesn't fit this description is, for once, the prosecutor. Usually your biggest obstacle and the most morally corrupt of the main cast, he's the only person who's both 100% on the side of truth and on the same page as you for the entire game. He's just as clueless as you, being used nothing more than a chess piece just like you are.

But the truly masterful thing about AA4 is how morally grey it is. These characters aren't just one note villains. They're not even villains at all. Most of them aren't even malicious.

Your boss, for all the low levels he stoops to, is underneath it all the same guy he's always been, doing everything he can to bring a criminal to justice and protect his family. Your assistant is a sweet girl who truly cares about you, she's just prioritizing herself and her fathers safety before anything else. The detective is the same passionate and kind woman under everything else. The rest of the defendants are genuinely well-meaning young people who got involved in shady stuff they didn't fully understand.

The game is filled with good people trying to make the best of bad circumstances. The game has just as many fun moments as the original trilogy. For all it's rough appearance, the game has a similar heart. For every unanswered question or unrighted wrong, there's a smile or a hope for a better future. For every bad action, there's usually someone trying their best behind it. The game is melancholic and dark, but isn't afraid to let good shine through. It knows there's no shadows without the light.

[karvroom]

10 Things I Hate About Katsuki Bakugo

◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥

⇦ 003. French is the Language of Love

004. An Idiot with Money

"Did I or did I not tell you it was pointless?" Sero sassed as he moved the scalpel down the frog's stomach, careful to not slice any deeper than the skin. "No one will go out with her."

During lunch, Kirishima recruited Sero to help him find someone to go out with you for the better chance of him and Mina going on a date. Sero managed to snag some guys, setting them up for the question they never thought they would hear: "Will you go out with (Y/N) Ashido?"

"You're joking, right?"

"Maybe if we were the last people on Earth."

"How much you gonna pay me?"

The range of responses were pretty harsh to say the least. It was hopeless trying to find someone willing to take you on a date. If only no one at the school was intimidated by your wicked attitude and vulgar vocabulary.

Why did the girl Kirishima like have to have the most difficult sister of the century? In addition, a strict father. He was devastated by the results of his scouting, starting to feel a headache from the amount of stress he endured. Kirishima knew giving up wasn't ideal but they had tried just about every possible candidate.

A lump formed in his throat, watching Sero poke and prod at the insides of the dead frog on the tray. They were in anatomy, which wasn't Kirishima's first choice for a science class. He felt queasy just looking at roadkill. His eyes averted from the sight, finding it impossible how Sero could play with the insides of a deceased creature so senselessly.

The red-head squinted his eyes, seeing a blonde boy whip out a pocket knife from his own pocket. He was pretty sure that was illegal but gawked at the stranger, intrigued by the sight. The blonde flicked his wrist, the blade flying out of its protective frame. With a BANG the boy drove the blade down the frog's body, revealing its intestines. Kirishima quirked a brow, coming up with a brilliant idea.

"Hey, hey, what about him?" Kirishima tapped Sero's arm, snapping the ravenette out of his own world. He pointed at the intimidating blonde behind Sero.

Sero curiously turned around, only to swing his body back to face Kirishima. Sero looked almost offended by his friend's suggestion. When he pictured you and Bakugo in the same room, all he could see was the walls painted red. "Him? No, don't—don't look at him, okay? He's a criminal. I heard he lit a state trooper on fire. He just did a year in Shimane Asahi."

"Well, at least he's horny." Kirishima joked, eyes lingering on the mysterious male behind Sero.

"I'm serious, man. He's whacked." Sero whispered, careful not to alert any one of who he was talking about. "He sold his own liver on the black market for a new set of speakers."

Bakugo flipped the gas switch on in the lab. A large flame shot out from the pipe, causing his science partner to jump back in fear. The blonde placed a Marlboro red in his mouth, leaning just enough over the counter for the cigarette to light. Sero was repulsed by the sight.

Meanwhile, Kirishima was intrigued by the specimen; observing as Bakugo's partner took the cancer stick out of his mouth, pushing the tip against a trey to burn out the tobacco. "He's our guy."

Later in mechanics class, Bakugo had been creating a masterpiece from his hard work.

"Hi, how you doin'." Kirishima confidently spoke to the brute through the steam produced by Bakugo's project. "Listen, I—"

A drill interrupted the boy's sentence, he looked down at the French book he carried in his two hands. A hole was being drilled by Bakugo, right in the center of the Eiffel Tower.

Kirishima couldn't lie, he was somewhat intimidated by the guy, afraid how much Bakugo would sell his liver for. "Okay. Later, then."

"How do we get him to date (Y/N)?"

"I don't know." Kirishima sighed, shaking his head side to side as his friend observed the giant hole in the book. "I mean, uh, we could pay him, but we don't have any money."

"Yeah, well, what we need is a backer." Sero spoke, slamming the book on the table while turning to Kirishima, who looked utterly confused by his words. The raven haired boy sighed, "Someone with money who's stupid."

────୨ৎ────

Sero had the bright idea of roping in Denki Kaminari somehow. Kirishima patted Sero on the back for luck, staying back to allow a better chance of Kaminari coming in clutch.

Sero inhaled deeply before marching over to Kaminari's lunch table in the cafeteria. Confidently, he took a seat right next to the blonde boy, who was drawing a rack of boobs on a yellow lunch tray. The table went silent as Sero settled into his spot.

"Is that a peach Fruit Roll-Up?" Sero asked, staring at the homemade lunch Ojito brought to school. The nervous boy reached his hand out for the sweet treat. "Because you don't see many—"

Sero was abruptly cut short by Ojiro grabbing his wrist. His heart stopped, he felt his head was about to explode with anxious thoughts swirling in his mind. The sweet boy pulled his hand away, rubbing at the skin that would later be bruised.

"Are you lost?" Kaminari asked in a "concerning" tone. The blonde's face twisted into one of a sour grimace, surprised by the boldness this kid had to sit at his table, to talk to his friends, but most of all, talk to him.

"No. Actually, I just came by to chat."

"We don't chat."

"Well, actually, I thought that I'd run an idea by you, just to see if you're interested." Sero proposed, using his hands as he talked. Before Kaminari could speak, Sero cut him off, trying to at least pitch his thoughts. "Well, hear me out. Now, you want Mina, right?"

Kaminari grabbed Sero's face, but Sero didn't stop talking, he continued the conversation as casual as one could. He held the heat emitting from Kaminari's hands as they wrapped under his chin. He twisted the ravenette's head to the side. Using the same marker as he did on the tray, Kaminari started drawing on Sero's cheek.

"But she can't go out with you because her sister is this insane head case, and no one will go out with her, right?"

"Does this conversation have a purpose?" Kaminari asked in a bored tone, touching up the penis he drew on Sero's face. He added hair and veins, even debated on adding more detail to the balls.

"What I think you need to do is you need to hire a guy who'll go out with her. Someone who doesn't scare so easily." Sero pointed at a table in the distance where Bakugo and another guy sat. Kaminari's hands released from Sero's chin. He leaned back to admire his beautiful artwork.

"That guy?" Kaminari asked, brows furrowed. He observed as Bakugo ate his food, hungrily munching on the chicken served by the cafeteria. "I heard he ate a live squirrel once."

"Everything but the tail and the head. Clearly, he's a solid investment." Sero nodded his head, adding a smile to really add to the charming charisma.

"What's in it for you?"

"Hey, I'm walking down the hall and I say hello to you, you say hello to me." Sero chirped.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're cool by association." Kaminari cleared his throat, nodding his head in clear understanding. "I'll think about it."

"Alright, cool." Sero said, he stood up from his spot, attempting to shake hands with Kaminari as a close out. When the blonde refused to touch his hand, Sero backed away, scurrying back to Kirishima.

"What are you doing getting him involved?" Kirishima stressed, walking with Sero towards the cafeteria exit.

"Relax, now. Relax. We let him pretend he's calling the shots. While he's busy setting things up, you have time with Mina." Sero calmly explained, over exaggerating his hand movements.

"That is a good idea." Kirishima admitted, a sly smile spreading across his face.

◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢

⇨ 005. The Beginning of the End

taglist🫐 @katsukota @wheezdostuff @honeydwitch @chuugarettes

[thatstonedwriter]

⋆｡˚ 「 Relationship Headcanons 」 ⋆｡˚

Fizzarolli

── ˙•˚∘✮🌙ᯓ🪐˙•˚∘ ──

You in the market for a sweet n’ sassy performer? Fizzarolli is the one for you! My man lives for being dramatic, although he doesn’t always need to be the center of attention. Fizz is more than happy to share the spotlight~.

Shenanigans is the word that best describes this relationship. Fizz will play harmless pranks and playfully tease you constantly. A lot of the time, he’s filming too (but won’t post it to his socials if you don’t want him to). Of course there are times when you'll need space, and in those cases, Fizz just goes to bother Blitzø.

Speaking of- Hangouts with Blitzø are pretty frequent. I hope you can tolerate threesome jokes, because Blitzø will make them. Most of the time, the two bicker with each other, with Fizzarolli relying on you for backup.

One of his favorite activities is singing with you! Doesn't matter if you're good or not- Fizz just loves the thrill of singing along to your favorite songs together.

On that same note (hehe), Fizz loves solos (watching and performing). So whether it's you cheering him on or vice versa, taking a moment to feel like a rockstar does wonders for your self-esteem.

Fizz will often do this thing where he pretends something is a microphone, and he'll act as if you're a celebrity on the red carpet. It's a fun way for Fizz to flirt with you; complimenting your outfit, hair, accessories, etc.

loves pampering you (and himself), so expect lots of self-care supplies to take over your bathroom. Nail polish, cuticle oil, face masks, scented lotions- you name it, he probably has it.

I imagine Fizz suffers from some chronic pain due to his scars and injuries. I also think that his skin is super sensitive because of the burn scars. I also think because of that, he'd be very particular about the skin care products he picks out.

In the beginning of your relationship, Fizz will have lots of reservations regarding physicality. His main concern is that the texture of his burns, and the scars themselves will freak you out, and you won't find him attractive.

Later on, when he's more comfortable, Fizz loves cuddling - though, if you have any boundaries surrounding physicality, he'll adhere to them. If not, be ready to have him hanging on you all the time. A robotic limb draped across your shoulders, his head leaned against yours, a hand caressing your back, fingers tracing your palms- Fizz just loves being in contact with you.

spontaneity, impulsivity, and creativity- the lethal trifecta. Fizz’s mind almost never stops. Some days, he’ll be brimming with ideas, songs, comedy bits- others. Others, his mind is racing with insecurities, and overwhelmed by the need to do everything at once. He has the tendency to bounce from one task to another, so sometimes, you’ll find half the laundry folded, the dishes clean, but not dry, or hastily written reminders on post-it notes scattered on counter tops and mirrors.

He tries not to show them often, but Fizz has a lot of insecurities. They range from him not being attractive enough to full-on crises regarding his self-worth. If you struggle with the same issues, you both can be pillars for each other, offering comfort and support when needed. Regardless, comfort and reassurance are very important to Fizzarolli, and they play a big role in the relationship.

── ˙•˚∘✮ 🔭๋࣭ᯓ🌙˙•˚∘ ──

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Vesuvia Weekly: Baby Fever

Taking into account everything except what's in my personal space, it's a fairly normal afternoon in the Center Marketplace. Selasi's humming a popular song as he shovels another batch of rolls into his oven, the regular shoppers are bustling between the merchant's stalls, and the steam from my cup is wafting as gracefully as ever into the bright blue sky.

Oh, shoot that's a burning hazard isn't it, patronsdangit -

"Language!"

And the cheeky greeting from the magician appearing suddenly in front of me isn't helping.

"Fudge you, I'm trying not to be a bad influence."

"You? A bad influence? On who - oh, hello."

I glance down again just in time to move my cup away from the dimpled, chubby hand grasping for its boiling contents. The one-year-old in my lap looks up at me and grins. I look back at Asra with a smile. "I don't want to be a bad influence on this one."

They're already taking a spot at the low table, putting themself and their bag between the baby and the walkway to the stairs. As responsibility-averse as he is, it doesn't stop him from lending the toddler a steady hand as they wobble out of my lap. While the other steals my pumpkin rolls -

"What's their name?"

"This is Nasha." The tot gives me a gurgling giggle, grasping at the edge of the low table while they bounce on their feet. I brush a stray dark curl out of their face. "Their parents needed an afternoon out and know I used to babysit, so they called in a favor. I hope you plan on replenishing those."

"He already ordered a second batch." Selasi approaches with a basket for the table, steam rising through the cloth from the rolls underneath. "Hello, little one. And what are you old enough to eat? May I hold you?"

The tot looks up from where they're digging through Asra's bag, Faust nudging the no-so-baby-friendly contents out of reach and dodging their grabs at her tail. They stare wide-eyed at the burly baker before lighting up the market corner with a drool-filled smile. I hoist them up by the armpits and hold them out in Selasi's direction.

"They turned one last week. Do you know how to hold them safely?"

"Oh, Selasi knows all about how to hold the small ones, yes he does." He takes the toddler on one arm, cooing and rocking them back and forth. This is a side of him I haven't seen before. "Look at how many teeth you've grown, my tiny friend! If I remember right, you're old enough to be eating honey now, aren't you? Selasi's brought you a little dish and spoon for a nice treat, if your decaying-mind-friend says it's alright."

I groan at the nickname. "Not you too - and yes, their parents said they can eat honey now. Just be careful about -"

And I'm interrupted by an excited screech from several booths away.

"Is that a baby with brainrot?! Hi baby!!"

Portia sails into view, her brother dragged behind her by the coat and away from the newly-established leech stall where he was probably about to sink half his savings. Julian stops struggling and straightens up as soon as he spots the baby on Selasi's arm. "My my my, what do we have here -"

"Awwww, can I hold them? Please?!"

Portia's curls are going to stand on end if she tries to contain herself any longer. I nod, but Selasi seems hesitant to let go of his new friend. "You should be careful, they've just eaten some -"

"Fear not! I shall rescue you, small one!"

It's like watching a train wreck in slow motion as Julian uses his long arms to reach over Portia's head, plucking Nasha from the baker's grasp and seating them on his arm. The baby looks at the newcomer in surprise and decides to introduce themself by smearing their honey-covered sticky fingers down the doctor's cheek.

"Well, aren't you a - hrck - nnghck!"

Determined to explore further, the wide-eyed tot sticks their full hand into Julian's mouth mid-sentence. What follows are a series of chokes and gags as they reach deeper, giggling at the funny noises the doctor makes as he tries his best not to bite them. Portia adds injury to insult, yanking him down close enough to take the baby by tugging at his ear.

"Hey, you little cutie, what's your name?" She cradles them on her hip, cooing sweetly at them while her brother hacks and coughs behind her.

Julian straightens with a wince. "I think they went for my uvula -"

"His what-a-wha?"

The loud question behind them makes Julian jump, Portia eye-roll, and Asra grimace. I lean to peek around my visitors at the ex-count fast approaching us. "Hey, Lucio. It's a 'uvula', the hangy-down thing at the back of your mouth."

"And this little stinker tried to grab it? HAH!" He cackles, the loud noise making Nasha begin to curl in on themself. Portia tightens her hold on them, reconsiders, and then shoves them into the arms of the large shadow that's been lurking in the background for the last five minutes.

"Don't you call them that! That's brainrot's baby!"

Lucio freezes, face blue-screening as his eyes jump wildly between me and the baby nestled in Muriel's frozen hold. Asra snorts into their hand. Julian gives me an oddly thoughtful look. "Technically speaking, he is old enough and has the anatomy to have one safely, and he does seem, ah, quite comfortable holding one ..." Portia slowly nods along, taking a long look at me.

I ignore his mumbles and her stare and address the sputtering journeyman. "Nasha isn't my baby, they're my friend's baby, and I'm taking care of them for the day." I turn to where Muriel's adjusting his hold on the one-year-old. "You good?"

Nasha looks up and meets his eyes, pinning him with a four-toothed, honey covered smile. I swear I can see him melt. "... yeah."

"Since when do you take care of babies? I thought you were a writer. Let me see it -"

I brush Lucio away as respectfully as possible. "They're not an it, they're a baby, and your arm is way too sharp to hold them with that gauntlet on it."

"As to why he takes care of babies, he used to be an au pair, if I'm remembering correctly. You must be quite fond of children."

I didn't see Nadia approach with all the ruckus, but now she's standing between Lucio and Muriel and trying to give the baby in question her signature gentle smile. She's a little too stiff to pull it off. I can see Muriel's comfort levels disappearing with the growing crowd and reach over to relieve him of his charge. Nasha curls up in my lap, visibly relieved to be held by someone they know, and nestles against my shirt with a quiet sigh.

"Kids? Nobody likes kids, they're terrible at parties - OW! That hurt, Noddy!"

Nadia's smile is genuine now as she turns back to me, visibly curious about my answer. "Well?"

I chuckle, giving the tot my tattooed arm to poke and prod so they stop trying to snatch and eat Asra's shiny blue stone necklace. "I like them." Nasha leans back in my hold, eyelids drooping and squirming sleepily as I clean the honey off their hands and mouth with a spare cloth. It's hard to hold back the smile when they snuggle further into my arms.

"I've always wanted to have kids of my own. You get to cherish this tiny person through all their ups and downs, and teach them what unconditional love looks like while they figure out who they are and come into their own. And then one day, they're able to go out into the world and build their own life, while you cheer them on and watch them flourish."

I can feel myself flushing from the impromptu sappy speech. "Not to say that everyone should want kids! They're a lot of work and time and a serious commitment so I totally get why others wouldn't want -to - uhm -"

The six misty gazes I'm met with when I look up at my visitors makes me falter. Julian and Nadia look like they've seen a miraculous revelation. Portia and Lucio are hungrily eyeing the way Nasha dozes against my neck. Asra and Muriel are watching me reflectively, lost in thought and smiling quietly at the way I tuck the toddler's blanket around them.

I back up against the wall and make a show of snapping my knees shut, curling myself protectively around my charge. "I didn't say that I wanted to start having babies now, I'm a trans man, that shi- that stuff's complicated and I don't have the money!"

"Mpreg -" Portia coughs into her elbow, and I send her an annoyed look.

"Gee, thanks for the reminder of how taboo I'll be, Portia, let's hope I don't turn into someone's personal fetish or ick."

"Hey," Lucio cuts in with a slight pout, "Why didn't we have any kids, Noddy?"

Nadia fixes him with a stone-cold stare while everyone else looks at him in horror.

"Oh, you know why."

[bts5sosempire]

the tyrant (vi); side one

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sukuna ryomen x reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4,583

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: old time period, mention of arranged marriage, polygamous marriages, slow-burn yandere, power imbalances, peer pressure, nothing major atm, mentions of infertility, etc.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:  "you were the apple of Sukuna's eyes, the one who brought him solace and everything. The only thing you were incapable of was giving him a child, an heir he wished to spoil like he did to you."

𝐚/𝐧: splitting this into two parts, leaving y’all on a cliffhanger. pls like, comment below for tagging, and reblogged. (edit: forgot there were "broken" links or something when clicking to find the chapters, those are also fixed too.)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

In front of you were two boxes, one that was gunpowder with a bold black label written at the top of the crate, and the other was written in potassium chlorate. You notice that these two items share similar fates but different structures. "Handle with care," you instructed, snapping the fan in your hand shut. Walking off with shoulders squaring, your eyes trail around when you stop right in the center of the trading post. You finally owned a small port that allowed you to transport essential items from different countries. From using the money, the inn has accumulated over time.

All the time you've spent inside your room, stuck reading boring materials and trying to navigate into the world as a man, was brutal. You would never have the luxury and freedom as a woman, but you've become too accustomed to dressing up as a man. It doesn't mean you let yourself fall freely. This world wasn't built for women; you've always known that from the start, although that doesn't stop you from bending the rules to your will if you wish for it. The effects of reinforcing you into roles from everyone start to wear off when there isn't anyone keeping tabs.

And it feels liberating, you admit.

The first few steps you have taken for yourself without the help of anyone powerful give you a sense of clarity—something normal among the norms. You eye the small port, seeing the future play out in front of you. If you kept a steady trade of items from the small shops, you have gambled around the area for their compliance (you were hasty, something you ought to keep in check, too), then the port would grow big in no time. But quality wares is something you noted and took from the vendors you think would make it big if they produce what you're looking for. Owning important essential items or daily use objects was often sought out, and knowing what was going on in the market with the ledgers you kept, the vendors were happy to update it every week.

The smell of sea salt brushes against your nose when a spray mist of the ocean settles across your face like a thin veil. It brought you back from reality. The dark soft fur that clings around your neck tickles your jawline. It was a cape that had a lined coat inside for heat insulation. It was a gift to you from the seamstress. At first, you refuse such a gift as you weren't expecting anything in return but their devotion. The seamstress was an elderly lady named Rue with pure grey hair with specks of white, with milky pupils who ran the shop with her granddaughter, who was the age of fifteen. For someone blind, they have an impeccable sense of design, where to thread their needle, and even hand spin the silk threads with deer tail fur to tone down the bright arrogant colors.

Last but not least, you didn't bypass her as male.

You wonder how at first, Rue could tell, but you couldn't stop them from shoving their hands all over your face to see as further confirmation. It isn't until when you're alone that she sends her blushing granddaughter, who keeps gawking at you, to fetch warm jasmine tea from the kitchen. When she breathed out how the light footsteps and breathing differed from men, the soft scent of your natural smell under the musk of pinewood wasn't enough to fool her. Years of blindness hone her other senses.

To say you give a nervous smile even though Rue can't see, but she could sense it. You remember how she didn't ask questions about your true identity, but traces of understanding was written across her withering face. Rue was indeed an enigma and a master of changing the topic onto herself with woos of stories of her ambitious youth. You don't mind her rambling; as long as it's not you divulging into your life, then you're fine.

Readjusting the cape, you walk off the port onto the mainland, and before you can go any further, a woman who is a bit tad shorter than you bumps into you. They let out a yelp and seemed to trip over their heel as they braced for impact when falling back and shut their eyes. Based on reflexes, you grab their wrist to pull them upright, but all it does is wring their weight your way as they collide into your chest with a delicate sound of discontent.

"Hey! Watch where-" The words died on their lips when they opened their soft pomegranate-colored eyes. Their eyes almost remind you of someone. As if they couldn't utter a word after nearly insulting you, the shade of their face became gradually warmer, like the colors of their eyes. "I'm sorry!" They sputter out in nervousness. You only look down at her with your questioning piercing gaze that has her even weaker in your arms. Unknowingly. Ripping themself out of your hold, she set a space between you both.

"What are you sorry for? It was my fault for not seeing you." Simply reassuring her, the woman across from you became a more blubbering mess. You don't know what's going on in her head; the more you observe, it becomes a headache to decipher each passing second. Cutting her off, you notice the sky gradually getting darker and bid her farewell with a tilt of your head down.

It wasn't until that you were gone she allowed herself to bask in the memories of you. With both hands on her flaming cheeks, she gushes over her Prince Charming and starts to create scenarios in her head. "They were so cool!~" The aura around her was warm and pleasant, and even some bystanders who walked past her glanced at her—some young love.

"Lady Kiriko!" The young woman's handmaid finally reaches her as they huff and pant. They stop in front of her. Kiriko only clicked her tongue in distaste as she lost her sense of a heart-warming aura. "I finally found you! We have to go to the inn before it gets dark." The handmaid wheezes out.

Like a flip that has been switched, Kiriko activated her brat mode. "Why do you always have to ruin my fun?" She pinches the maid's arm harshly, and they cringe back. "I still have a bit more time left before sundown." Kiriko overlaps her arms, but her thoughts trail back to you, and then brat mode is switched off. She had a deluded smile on her face. Then again, it was back on instantly when she turned around to her maid. "By the way, did you see a handsome man on your way here? They walk where the way you came from."

The handmaid crinkles her brows in confusion.

Kiriko rolls her eyes, "You know about this tall?" She gestured to where your height would reach, which is a head taller. "They wore a cape in the color of brown, but it looked like gold with intricate design, and the neck had soft black fur surrounding it." Kiriko waited a few more seconds, "And they look adorable too."

The maid then snaps their eyes at the lady, "Ah yes! I saw them; they walked into a rented house near here!" Kiriko didn't waste time asking which house the handsome man rented, and the maid told her it was the Red Koi and sped away.

Eisha coughs as the weather gets colder and harsher. With the months flying by and winter coming, she tried to stifle another hack. "Where are the imported red coals?" She asked nearby maids, who gave each other a look, deciding who would break the news. They were a jittering mess and kept avoiding eye contact.

Eisha's lady-in-waiting ensured her Master was comfortable as she brought the finest furs and pillows to create a sturdy and warm nest. "Your Lady asked you a question, and you won't answer her?" The personal maid sternly made a face, and the lowly ranked servants quivered.

"The red coals that you requested were given to Lady (Name)," one spoke up, still refusing to make eye contact; they whispered the last part in a hush, "by Lord Sukuna's order."

As if what they said were whiplash to their Lady and the personal maid, Eisha's lady-in-waiting was about to blow a fuse for her Master. "All dismiss." She tried to say calmly. Although it was barely contained, all the servants could see how Eisha's handmaid eyes bled red with rage, and no one wasted a second to flee the room. If Hell existed, it would be this very castle.

Eisha's handmaid, Miyo, turns to their master. "Your Lady, even Lord Sukuna knows about your condition and that regular coals could suffocate your lungs and worsen it with the amount of smoke it emits." Miyo then curses you inside her mind; like everyone else, she couldn't understand why Lord Sukuna would put you above all else. Are you made of gold or something? Miyo was sure you were nothing; you hadn't made yourself worthy with a single childbirth. Something that everyone knew was important.

"Don't worry about it," Eisha's quiet demeanor made Miyo even more raucous, but she held it inside. "Go to the clothing department today and pick up my lined fur fleece and my daughter from her study." With the command, Miyo respectfully now to Eisha and left the room.

There was a quick and sudden announcement from Hanami about her niece visiting her from a different region of Japan in a week. So the Doom Mother (Motherzilla) had expected everything to be perfect and lavish. Even the concubines were putting on their best behavior as they discussed what to wear to welcome their mother-in-law's niece.

This was the first time the girl would make an official trip to visit Hanami alone. But that doesn't mean you haven't heard of her before; there were brief mentions of her throughout your marriage to Sukuna. Where Hanami had plotted the idea of her only son marrying a cousin with who he had no interest. Additionally, Sukuna only met her once when she was only eight. Even the age gap was a decade between them. In the faint memory of her ten years ago, Sukuna had said she was a spoilt brat to the brim and expected the world to bow down to her.

You could almost laugh at how ironic he was judging someone when he was the same way. Well, minus the spoilt parts, then it would be perfect.

"Lady (Name)," a lady you recognize was two years older than you, was part of Hanami's entourage, Ubi. Judging by her clothes, she was in the second rank, closely behind Hanami's vassal, Naiyu. This instantly made you put on an air of neutrality; you didn't know what to expect from her as you didn't know much about her. Out of all of Hanami's retainers, only Ubi and Naiyu were the ones you watch out for, as Ubi was specially trained under Naiyu, so their facade was perfect craftsmanship.

Since they both represent Hanami's strengths, they had to be fearless in what they do, and you suspect that much—being the blade for their master. Still, they have shown indifference toward you, but doubt lingers in your mind. You can be careful and wary of them, but that would invite your demise if you failed to see beyond, so you try to harden your eyes.

Ubi, who senses you putting up barriers, instantly tries to disarm it with a soft smile that is part of her service. "The Head Mother has requested your presence," and around you, the air of jealousy and envy from concubines rises through the roof and filters through the hallways. Whether it's deliberate or not, Ubi semblance never falters. She held onto that patience.

"Lead the way," you monotonously said, and she turned around for you to follow. Starting at her back, it's unsettling how you can't pick what's happening inside Ubi's head, unlike how you did with Sukuna. For them, it's a blank slate.

"Ugh, look at her acting like she's so important just because the Head Mother had called for her," Sena whispered with hidden jaundice around her little clique, and they all agreed. One rolls their eyes, and a few sniggers at the action. Her eyes trail close to where you left.

It took a few minutes to lead you to Hanami's residence.

"Head Mother, I have brought Lady (Name) as per your request," Ubi announces, and the door slides open. She side steps to the side to allow you in without looking up.

You enter the room with quiet steps and sit on the zabuton, and before you can bow as a greeting, she lifts a hand to stop you. "There's no need." Hanami tries to mask her displeasure at seeing you, and you weren't stupid to not see it. It's just you didn't bother to point it out. Since she has an important matter to discuss and it involves you, Hanami decides to make it quick so your face isn't a constant reminder of your Aunt.

Hanami: "You're going to take over on welcoming my niece."

You: "Pardon? Isn't that supposed to be Lady Eisha's role?"

"Yes, it is," Hanami spoke as a matter of fact, "due to her ailing health, this task might be arduous for her since the doctor has told her to stay warm, so Eisha is taking bed rest to recover. Thus I'm assigning this to you."

Well, this is news to you. Out of all the people she could've picked, she had chosen you for such a task. You would have thought she might select one of the lower concubines to do the job. With her blatant prejudice against you. "Wouldn't any other concubine be better for the job?"

"Are you shrinking your role as the second wife of my son?" Hanami blurts out in annoyance as her tone rises an octave high; she looks up and down at you repeatedly with quick eyes. Like, you have gone crazy for even suggesting that.

With lips service smile, you retort back politely, "Head Mother, you seem to be offended by my innocent question. I'm only asking since you seem to tolerate my presence barely, let alone we haven't spoken to one another within five years of being married to your son. The only time we spoke was, instead, very brief and short, two days after the wedding consummation." It was the first greeting for the mother as a new in-law from the wife or concubine as respect.

Hanami clenches her jaws tightly; your sharp tongue and dim-witted acting seem to prick her nerves. You and your Aunt are very much alike in some ways, unbearable and arrogant. "Are you going to refuse my order?"

"Ah no," you quickly reply, "that would bring shame if I didn't uphold my duty as the second wife of Sukuna and Lady Eisha's left hand too."

Hanami didn't know if what you said was pure mockery, but each passing second in this room with you got her blood pumping in anger. "Since you have understood, you're dismissed."

You courteously bow deliberately (on purpose) to bid farewell before standing up with grace. Hanami was sure you were playing with her; your ungenuine smile wasn't even hidden. She curses daily due to her son's favoritism of you; you're like a plague that never vacates. And have you grown uncouth that you don't even respect her?

"Lord Sukuna, Lady (Name) will be taking over Lady Eisha's task of welcoming your cousin in a few days," Uraume informed their master, who quirked a brow.

"Oh? So that brat of a cousin is visiting?" He asked no one in particular; it was more of saying it to himself out loud. "Mother has finally given her such an important task for once." The thought of his Mother warming up to you sounds so funny that he can't help but chuckle. His Mother barely tolerates the idea of you and loathes Sukuna himself for a self-evident reason sometimes. "Make sure my wife doesn't overwork herself and help her if necessary; I'll tend to her afterward."

Uraume silently left the room, and Sukuna mulled over his thought. He rests his temple against his knuckles and watches the candlelight flicker under a breeze. But in his spare hand was a familiar thick jewel; Sukuna toys around with a gold bangle with assorted gems in various sizes, colors, and labyrinth designs indented into the gold.

It was your bangle.

After the night he had spent with you, he took what's most precious to you, and it was what was given to you by your deceased parents. There were years of work on it, seeing how the inside of the jewel was fading away from constant use. Sukuna noticed how the clasps were loose, most of all when he kept twisting the bangle around to feel every rigidity and bump.

The more he looks at it, the more something seems off.

Sukuna barely saw small noticeable lines on the inside of the bracelet; it was in the shape of a square. A small hidden compartment; if his keen and trained eyes missed that tiny detail, he deserved to be killed on a battlefield for not seeing an enemy, ambush, or assassination. Still, Sukuna was curious and grabbed a small wooden toothpick to unlock the small door.

He was surprised when multiple seeds fell out of the bracelet when he shook them out onto the table. The color of the sources was rather old, seeing how raisin and dried they were. Something stirs in his chest, and he doesn't like it. Sukuna's fierce eyes were glaring at the jarring sight before him. Cold like Hell has washed over.

"Someone, go and fetch me the doctor. Right. Now." His voice was low, with his wrath was barely concealed through clenched teeth. "Now!" Sukuna repeats their voice bellows out from his room to outside when no one makes a move to move. One male servant scamps away to do what they're told out of fear.

You're crafty. He gives you credit for that; whatever you're hiding, he would sniff it out. Sukuna then set the jeweled bracelet down and ran a hand through his hair; he puffs out a shallow breath. He's barely an anxious man, but his opinions of you and your sensitive nature slowly etched their way into his mind as he started to pick them apart one by one in a logical sense.

When emotions run high, clouds of judgment obscure his views. Sukuna is a man led by ideals and a futuristic sense; scarcely emotions ever run by him. He knew deep down when he allowed himself to feel emotions, it would cause him trouble, and he was right. Few selected people could be worthy of his regard, but to him, it didn't change his output of you very much. He dislikes being blind by someone, even so, he fully lets himself be when it comes to you, but seeing differently from a different angle, Sukuna should know that you're not soft and malleable.

You're like glass, pretty in the light, but there are still sharp edges around it. You shouldn't be underestimated. When he thought he had you at the center of his palm, you find a way to slip away. The game of chase was a back-and-forth thing, with its up and down.

Sukuna took another breath and exhaled deeply, pushing away the negative introspections.

You were busy interacting and directing where everything should go the next few days. It almost felt like a routine when you were dressed up as your alibi, Seijuro Hajime. Your breath fogs up in front of you, and your nose itches when cold air brushes against it; turning your head to the side, you sneeze.

"You should dress up warmer for the occasion," a voice snuck up behind you, and you froze for a quick second when a heavy cape was draped around your shoulders. Sukuna had made his presence known, and the servants around you suddenly worked harder than before. You were about to shrug off his cape, but his hands were on your shoulders, "Keep it on."

Another moment of pregnant silence passed through; no servants bothered to be in your and Sukuna's line of sight. They make sure to steer clear away from the invisible bubble that was presented around their Lord of the House. Sukuna presses his broad front against your back; you can feel his heat seeping through, then he slides his hands down your shoulders until it reaches your cold hands. His callous palms envelopes your own, and there was a minor battle of you struggling to tug it away.

"Could you please let me do my job," you patronize Sukuna, who only takes it as amusement and doesn't move an inch.

"No, I came here to spend time with my lovely wife." He tunes out, and his voice is much lighter, much chirpy to your liking. "Do you want to know what I discovered today?"

"No," flatly refusing him, one of Sukuna's hands retracted for a second, and you felt something cold and heard a slight click on your wrist. You look down to see your bracelet that has gone missing adorned your wrist. Toring yourself away, you whirl around to meet his eyes; you accuse him with a quiet, burning, seething look, "So it was you who took it."

The corners of his lips quirk up. You have spent days looking for your precious bangle, even flipping your room upside down. You didn't think it was this menacing man in front of you swiping it right under your nose during that day he had forcefully bedded you. You even thought that you lost it during your outing to the castle and that anyone could pick it up and pawn it to set themselves up for life.

"It was a pretty little thing; I know it was a special gift to you from your parents. So I took it as an inspiration to see your taste, as you never wore what I gifted. " Sukuna explains while lazily giving you a nonchalant expression without losing his carefree nature. He lops his head to the side, "And here's the fun part, I fixed your little bracelet problems for you."

You clench your jaws and roll your eyes again with a deep breath, "There's nothing wrong with it."

"No, no, no," Sukuna tuts out as if he's dealing with a lying child, "There is a problem with it. You, my lovely wife here, have been plotting something bigger against me this whole time." The light in his eyes darkened and was replaced with something entirely devious. Mentally preparing yourself, Sukuna brushes his knuckles against your cold, bitten, ample red cheeks. "There are many things I've been tolerating from you," Sukuna's tone reeks of hurt and betrayal, despite failing to mask it, "but not this."

The hand caressing your cheek was suddenly behind your nape; Sukuna grips, and for once, he didn't care how he made you look in front of his servants, who were surprised at his treatment. Many hold their breath and further avoid the personal bubble as they could see trouble brewing between you both. All we're opting the long way to complete their task.

"You know I always wanted a child with you, but seriously, basil seeds?" Sukuna let out a haughty laugh when he saw your expression crumble a bit from fear of realization that he knew. "Yes, I now know what has caused your infertility."

The smile he wore never seemed so big and scary in front of you. Your mind was repeatedly reeling that Sukuna knew. He. Knew. Now you're not safe, and you can no longer avoid his advances.

Sukuna could see the vulnerability displayed before him; this was what he was waiting for. You're so open for him to take and relish. "I admire the length you're willing to go, and honestly, I genuinely do." You don't know what will come out of his mouth anymore. "No one can save you from me now. Not even your precious bracelet."

[Days Ago]

Sukuna patiently waited for the physician to arrive at his headquarters while drumming his fingers against the dark red oak table. His eyes trail to your bracelet that sticks out like a sore thumb, along with the seeds. The doors to his room snap open as the physician enters. "Finally," Sukuna said out loud; he has patience, but not today.

The doctor stopped in front of Sukuna and greeted him with a bow. "Lord Sukuna, w-what seems to be the problem?"

The man smirked, "You always seem to tremble whenever you meet me, but never mind that," Sukuna motioned with his head where the bracelet and seeds lay, "Tell me what is on the table." The physician saw and quickly took action.

They took a seed and examined it before sniffing it, and a faint scent emitted. "My Lord, this is basil seed."

Sukuna: "Basil?"

"Yes, basil." They confirmed it.

"What's so special about it?" Sukuna asks with interest.

"Lord Sukuna, basil seeds are used for many things, and especially if consuming it, doing it in small quantities once in a while not to cause side effects. Too much may cause bloating and abdominal pain. This is also used to help... " The medic explains in tangent detail.

"Then explain why it was inside the bracelet." Sukuna cuts to the chase when asking about something the doctor does and tends to run their mouth sometimes.

"A-Ah, yes." He took the bracelet from the table, "May I ask who the bracelet belongs to?"

Sukuna: "(Name)."

The doctor should not be surprised it was you. They took a moment to examine the bracelet and saw the open compartment door and sniffed the inside of the bangle, and found traces of it. "My Lord, how long has Lady (Name) worn this bracelet?"

The sound of urgency in his voice caught Sukuna's interest. "For as long as I married her. It was from her parents. What's the problem?"

Since there was no time stamp on how long, the doctor could only conclude one thing, "If Lady (Name) has worn this for a long time, then the cause of her infertility could be this all along." The words are like a cold wake-up call from the doctor; Sukuna's eyelids droop low with fury. The thought of you, 'How dare you (Name).' The doctor nervously continues, "Long exposure to basil seeds entering the bloodstream could thin out the blood, affect her hormones, and even her menstrual cycles. This could also explain—"

Sukuna raised a hand for the medic to shut their mouth as he was complimented on how he should deal with you and what he had just learned today. At first, he took your bracelet to understand your personal preferences, then return it to you later, and now he doesn't regret stumbling onto your long secret by chance. The amount of time he had bed you and you failed to conceive a child was out.

"You're dismissed, and keep your mouth shut." Then he looks at the corner where Uraume resides, "Take the bracelet to get it modified from a nearby jeweler. Fix the clasps and seal the door."

•

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[balkanradfem]

"Growing flax to make linen was one of the oldest human activities in Europe, particularly in the Rhineland. Archeologists have found linen textiles among the settlements of Neolithic cultivators along the shores of Lake Neuchâtel in the Jura Mountains west of Bern, Switzerland. These were elaborate pieces: Stone Age clothmakers of the Swiss lakeshores sewed pierced fruit pits in a careful line into a fabric with woven stripes. The culture spread down the Rhine and into the lowland regions.

The Roman author Pliny observed in the first century AD that German women wove and wore linen sheets. By the ninth century flax had spread through Germany. By the sixteenth century, flax was produced in many parts of Europe, but the corridor from western Switzerland to the mouth of the Rhine contained the oldest region of large-scale commercial flax and linen production. In the late Middle Ages the linen of Germany was sold nearly everywhere in Europe, and Germany produced more linen than any other region in the world.

At this juncture, linen weavers became victims of an odd prejudice. “Better skinner than linen weaver,” ran one cryptic medieval German taunt. Another macabre popular saying had it that linen weavers were worse than those who “carried the ladders to the gallows.” The reason why linen weavers were slandered in this way, historians suspect, was that although linen weavers had professionalized and organized themselves into guilds, they had been unable to prevent homemade linen from getting onto the market. Guilds appeared across Europe between the twelfth and fifteenth centuries but many of the items they produced for exchange, like textiles and soap, were also produced at home right up through the nineteenth century. The intricate regulations of the guilds—determining who could join, how they would be trained, what goods they would produce, and how these could be exchanged—were mainly designed to distinguish guild work from this homely labor. That linen making continued to be carried out inside of households—a liability for guilds in general—lent a taint to the linen guild in particular.

In the seventeenth century, guilds came under pressure from a new, protocapitalist mode of production. Looking for cheaper cloth to sell on foreign markets, entrepreneurs cased the Central European countryside offering to pay cash to home producers for goods. Rural households became export manufacturing centers and a major source of competition with the guilds. These producers could undercut the prices of urban craftsmen because they could use the unregulated labor of their family members, and because their own agricultural production allowed them to sell their goods for less than their subsistence costs.

The uneasiness between guild and household production in the countryside erupted into open hostility. In the 1620s, linen guildsmen marched on villages, attacking competitors, and burning their looms. In February 1627 Zittau guild masters smashed looms and seized the yarn of home weavers in the villages of Oderwitz, Olbersdorf, and Herwigsdorf.

Guilds had long worked to keep homemade products from getting on the market. In their death throes, they hit upon a new and potent weapon: gender. Although women in medieval Europe wove at home for domestic consumption, many had also been guild artisans. Women were freely admitted as masters into

the earliest medieval guilds, and statutes from Silesia and the Oberlausitz show that women were master weavers. Thirteenth-century Paris had eighty mixed craft guilds of men and women and fifteen female-dominated guilds for such trades as gold thread, yarn, silk, and dress manufacturing. Up until the mid-seventeenth century, guilds had belittled home production because it was unregulated, nonprofessional, and competitive. In the mid-seventeenth century this work was identified as women’s work, and guildsmen unable to compete against cheaper household production tried to eject women from the market entirely. Single women were barred from independent participation in the guilds. Women were restricted to working as domestic servants, farmhands, spinners, knitters, embroiderers, hawkers, wet nurses. They lost ground even where the jobs had been traditionally their own, such as ale brewing and midwifery, by the end of the seventeenth century.

The wholesale ejection of women from the market during this period was achieved not only through guild statute, but through legal, literary, and cultural means. Throughout the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries women lost the legal right to conduct economic activity as femes soles. In France they were declared legal “imbeciles,” and lost the right to make contracts or represent themselves in court. In Italy, they began to appear in court less frequently to denounce abuses against them. In Germany, when middle-class women were widowed it became customary to appoint a tutor to manage their affairs. As the medieval historian Martha Howell writes, “Comedies and satires of this period…often portrayed market women and trades women as shrews, with characterizations that not only ridiculed or scolded them for taking on roles in market production but frequently even charged them with sexual aggression.” This was a period rich in literature about the correction of errant women: Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew (1590–94), John Ford’s ’Tis Pity She’s a Whore (1629–33), Joseph Swetnam’s “The Araignment of Lewde, Idle, Froward, and Unconstant Women” (1615). Meanwhile, Protestant reformers and Counter-Reformation Catholics established doctrinally that women were inherently inferior to men.

This period, called the European Age of Reason, successfully banished women from the market and transformed them into the sweet and passive beings that emerged in Victorian literature. Women accused of being scolds were paraded in the streets wearing a new device called a “branks,” an iron muzzle that depressed the tongue. Prostitutes were subjected to fake drowning, whipped, and caged. Women convicted of adultery were sentenced to capital punishment.

As a cultural project, this was not merely recreational sadism. Rather, it was an ideological achievement that would have lasting and massive economic consequences. Political philosopher Silvia Federici has argued this expulsion was an intervention so massive, it ought to be included as one of a triptych of violent seizures, along with the Enclosure Acts and imperialism, that allowed capitalism to launch itself.

Part of why women resisted enclosure so fiercely was because they had the most to lose. The end of subsistence meant that households needed to rely on money rather than the production of agricultural goods like cloth, and women had successfully been excluded from ways to earn. As labor historian Alice Kessler-Harris has argued, “In pre-industrial societies, nearly everybody worked, and almost nobody worked for wages.” During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, monetary relations began to dominate economic life in Europe. Barred from most wage work just as the wage became essential, women were shunted into a position of chronic poverty and financial dependence. This was the dominant socioeconomic reality when the first modern factory, a cotton-spinning mill, opened in 1771 in Derbyshire, England, an event destined to upend still further the pattern of daily life."

- Sofi Thanhauser, Worn: A People's History of Clothing

[perseephoneee]

yule (kai parker x reader) {ficmas 2023}

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ happy day 6 of ficmas!

authors note: this is short bc i'm lame, but i really love kai and thought it would be fun to highlight one of the holidays i celebrate during the winter season.

“I don’t care much about the holiday season,” Kai said, lounging on your couch and eating chips. You lifted your head from his shoulder and looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“How could you not care? The holidays are awesome,” you gasped. Kai just shrugged, returning his attention to the TV. You were currently watching Die Hard, your favorite Christmas movie. 

“The holidays were never special to me,” he mumbled. “Just another day, I was reminded that my Dad didn’t care.” You looked at him with a sad expression, and you could see him get slightly uncomfortable with your show of emotion. “Babe, you’re doing the puppy eyes again.”

“We have to do something for the season,” you pouted.

“We could have sex?”

“Kai!” you scolded, hitting him with your hand. He winked at you. 

“What? I think it’s special,” he munched on another chip, looking offended as you grabbed the bag out of his hands. 

“Kai Parker, I will give you one good holiday if it’s the last thing I do,” you exclaimed, crossing your arms defiantly. Kai rolled his eyes at your you-can’t-change-my-mind face, which usually meant he had to do whatever you wanted. Early on, before you were dating, it used to drive him up the wall. You were incredibly obstinate. But now, he found it slightly endearing, albeit annoying. 

“So what? We’ll get a tree, wrap presents, sing carols?” Kai chuckled. 

“No,” you hummed, twiddling your fingers. “I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“You don’t?” Kai asked, gesturing to the TV and the green and red lights you had strung up around your apartment. 

“I celebrate Yule.”

“Oh, so super traditional,” Kai nodded. You were both witches, but while Kai grew up in a family devoid of love and happiness, you grew up in a traditional coven. The whole community raised you, as was tradition. It meant that when Christmas came around, while you enjoyed the cookie-cutter capitalistic nature of it all, you still celebrated Yuletide at your roots. “I’ve never celebrated Yule.”

“Then I’m going to show you how it's done.”

Yuletide started on December 21st, and you made Kai go to the market to get a Yule log to burn. You had to shoo him out after he began to crack many innuendos about his wood. Kai didn’t entirely understand the purpose of burning the log. 

“To ask for the light to come back as we sit on the coldest night of the year,” you explained, sitting in front of your fireplace. Kai sat next to you, sipping on mulled wine. 

“I don’t need the light to return; I already have you,” He winked. You gave him a pointed look, even with the blush coating your cheeks. 

“Where’d you hear that one?”

“Sounds like something a more romantic man would say,” Kai sighed. 

You kissed him before the fireplace before beckoning him to wear his winter coat and follow you. You took him out to the forest behind your house, covered in a fresh coat of snow. The tiny white crystals coated the ground and the evergreens. Even the birds were quiet. You loved watching Kai try to catch snow on his tongue, ever the child. He peppered you with questions about where you were going as you walked further into the woods. Eventually, you came upon a clearing where many of your covens stood around with lanterns. A bonfire was in the center, and witches exchanged gifts and ate hot food by the firelight. Kai looked around with a sense of awe and confusion. 

“Its…”

“Beautiful?”

“Peaceful,” Kai settled on. He looked around with slight discomfort. As Kai struggled to identify and process his emotions, you got better at figuring out the things he was feeling. In this case, you had seen this look on his face before and knew what he was feeling. 

“You are allowed to feel peace,” you put a hand on Kai’s arm, capturing his attention. “Love isn’t conditional, and I’m sorry you were taught it was.”

Kai had a single tear cross his face, and you put up a hand to wipe it away. He nuzzled into your palm, kissing it and giving you a look of adoration. 

“I…thank you,” Kai said, speechless. Kai still struggled to say I love you, and you didn’t hold it to him. You knew by the fact that you managed to shut him up that he was overwhelmed. 

“C’mon,” you took his hand, leading him deeper into the clearing. You waved hello to several of your fellow covenmates and laughed as Kai kept sneaking food from the buffet tables around the clearing. After eating, you told Kai that you wanted to show him something. He followed you into the forest, a flickering candle in your hand. You brought him to a section of the forest where the coven liked to grow specific herbs and plants. It was under one tree that you stopped Kai. “Take a guess where we are.”

“The forest,” Kai deadpanned. You pulled off some of the berries from the tree. It took Kai a second to recognize them. “Is that…?”

“Mistletoe?” You answered, putting your candle down in the snow and smiling coyly. “I think someone owes me a kiss.”

Kai smirked, leaning in and kissing you passionately. His lips were cold from the temperature, but you didn’t care as you felt yourself melting into him. If there’s one thing Kai excelled at, it was kissing the living daylights out of you. When you parted, you smiled as you noticed the tree had grown even brighter around you. You didn’t even see when Kai siphoned you, inadvertently affecting the wildlife. 

“Thank you for making the holidays worth it,” Kai whispered, kissing you again. 

To him, you had made it all worth it.

[sunshinesmebdy]

Unleash Your Inner Warrior: Embracing the Power of the Moon in Aries

The vibrant energy of the Moon in Aries brings a dynamic shift to the world of business and finance. It’s a period characterized by bold initiatives, decisive action, and a surge of entrepreneurial spirit. As an astrologer and business consultant, I’m here to guide you through this potent transit and maximize its potential for your success.

Understanding the Moon in Aries Influence:

Fiery Leadership: This transit amplifies leadership qualities, encouraging assertiveness, initiative, and a willingness to take calculated risks. It’s an ideal time to step up, present your ideas confidently, and lead projects with courage and conviction.

The Moon in Aries ignites the inner CEO within! This fiery transit throws open the curtains on your leadership potential, boosting your assertiveness, initiative, and appetite for calculated risks. It’s prime time to shed self-doubt, step onto center stage, and confidently pitch your ideas. Lead projects with the conviction of a lion, unafraid to break new ground. But remember, true leadership isn’t a solo act — leverage your team’s strengths, delegate wisely, and inspire others with your fiery vision. Now go forth and conquer, leader!

Innovation & Creativity: The fiery energy sparks creative thinking and encourages out-of-the-box solutions. Businesses can leverage this time to brainstorm new products, explore niche markets, and implement innovative marketing strategies.

The Moon in Aries is creativity’s jet fuel! Unleash your inner inventor and ignite a brainstorming inferno. Dive deep into niche markets, explore unconventional possibilities, and let your ideas dance outside the lines. This is the perfect time to launch new products that disrupt the status quo, experiment with bold marketing campaigns, and implement innovative solutions that leave your competitors gasping for air. Remember, innovation thrives on a healthy dose of risk, so don’t be afraid to color outside the lines and ignite the spark of change!

Competitive Drive: Aries thrives on friendly competition. Utilize this energy to engage in healthy market competition, negotiate favorable deals, and strive for excellence in your industry. However, remember to stay ethical and respectful, avoiding aggressive tactics that could damage your reputation.

The Moon in Aries throws down the gauntlet, igniting a healthy competitive spirit within! Channel this fire to excel in your market, but remember, it’s a friendly duel, not a scorched-earth battle. Leverage this energy to secure favorable deals, negotiate with confidence, and push your industry boundaries. Remember, sportsmanship matters — compete fiercely, but ethically and respectfully. Think of it as a collaborative climb to the top, not a ruthless push to the bottom. By striking the right balance between ambition and integrity, you’ll emerge victorious, reputation intact and fire still burning bright. So, ready, set, go (with grace)!

Impulsive Decisions: The downside of Aries’ impulsive nature is the potential for hasty decisions and reckless investments. Before making significant financial moves, ensure thorough research, careful analysis, and a balanced perspective.

While the Moon in Aries fuels your fire, remember, impulse control is your armor! This transit can tempt you to dive headfirst into risky investments or hastily close deals. Don’t let the flames cloud your judgment. Before venturing into financial territory, douse the inferno with thorough research, careful analysis, and a healthy dose of skepticism. Seek diverse perspectives, consult trusted advisors, and prioritize long-term sustainability over short-term thrills. Remember, calculated risks are one thing, but reckless gambles can leave you singed. So, channel your fiery spirit wisely, and remember, slow and steady wins the financial race under this potent transit.

Tips for Harnessing the Moon in Aries Power:

Initiate New Ventures: This period favors launching new businesses, products, or marketing campaigns. Channel your creative spirit and develop strategies that stand out from the crowd.

With the Moon in Aries’ spotlight shining bright, it’s go time for bold initiatives! This is the astrological green light to launch that business you’ve been dreaming of, unveil that innovative product you’ve been tinkering with, or unleash a marketing campaign that blazes a trail unlike any other. Tap into your boundless creativity, ignite the spark of differentiation, and develop strategies that make your brand stand out like a supernova in a crowded galaxy. Don’t be afraid to break the mold — remember, Aries thrives on trailblazing and the world awaits your unique brand of brilliance. So, unleash your inner entrepreneur, channel your fiery spirit, and get ready to launch into the stratosphere of success!

Negotiate with Confidence: Don’t be afraid to express your value and negotiate assertively, ensuring you secure fair deals and partnerships. Remember, confidence is key, but stay respectful and collaborative in your approach.

Under the Moon in Aries, your negotiation game levels up! Don’t shy away from expressing your worth and confidently advocating for your goals. It’s okay to bring the fire, but remember, it’s a negotiation, not a battle. Assert your value with respect, collaborate to find win-win solutions, and remember, confidence is key to securing fair deals and partnerships. Think of it as a dance, not a duel — move with grace, power, and a clear understanding of your worth, and you’ll emerge victorious, leaving behind a trail of satisfied collaborators, not scorched earth. So, channel your inner diplomat warrior, and go forth and negotiate with confidence!

Invest Strategically: The Moon in Aries can be a good time for calculated investments, especially in innovative sectors or emerging markets. However, conduct thorough research, avoid impulsive decisions, and prioritize long-term sustainability over short-term gains.

While the Moon in Aries ignites the fire of investment fervor, remember — it’s a calculated burn, not a reckless inferno! This transit can offer fertile ground for strategic investments, especially in groundbreaking sectors or burgeoning markets. However, don’t let the fiery energy cloud your judgment. Conduct meticulous research, analyze trends with a cool head, and prioritize long-term stability over fleeting gains. Think of it as planting a financial seed — nurture it with knowledge, patience, and a sprinkle of calculated risk, and watch it blossom into a sustainable garden of success. Remember, impulsive bets might bring quick thrills, but informed decisions fueled by Aries’ fire will be the true key to unlocking long-term financial prosperity. So, invest wisely, fellow warriors, and let the Moon in Aries guide you towards a future as bright as your ambition!

Delegate Tasks Wisely: Delegate tasks wisely to capitalize on the team’s diverse strengths and prevent burnout. Encourage initiative and creativity within your team, fostering a dynamic and collaborative work environment.

Under the Moon in Aries, delegation becomes your secret weapon! Instead of trying to be a one-person whirlwind, tap into the diverse strengths of your team. Delegate tasks strategically, matching talents with workloads, and watch the collective fire ignite. Don’t micromanage, instead, encourage initiative and creative solutions. Foster a collaborative spirit where ideas flow freely, fueled by the shared energy of the transit. Remember, a united team with individual flames burning bright is a force to be reckoned with! By delegating wisely, you’ll not only empower your team but also avoid burnout and ignite a dynamic engine of productivity that propels everyone towards shared success. So, step back, empower your warriors, and let the collective fire of Aries work its magic!

Maintain Balance: While embracing the impulsive drive is important, remember to maintain a healthy balance. Take time for reflection, consult with trusted advisors, and avoid letting your enthusiasm cloud your judgment.

The Moon in Aries is a potent brew of impulsiveness and drive, but remember, even the fiercest warrior needs moments of calm! Don’t get swept away by the whirlwind of action. Breathe, reflect, and consult trusted advisors to ground your ideas and avoid rash decisions fueled by pure enthusiasm. Think of it as adding water to the Aries fire — it tempers the flames, allowing them to burn brighter, stronger, and for longer. Prioritize sleep, healthy habits, and moments of introspection to maintain balance. Remember, true success under this transit demands not just fiery drive, but also the wisdom to channel it strategically. So, embrace the passion, but fuel it with balance, and watch your Aries-fueled endeavors burn a path to lasting success!

Remember, the Moon in Aries transit is a fleeting opportunity to inject your business with dynamic energy and entrepreneurial spirit. By understanding its influence, employing strategic planning, and maintaining a balanced approach, you can turn this fiery transit into a catalyst for success and propel your business to new heights.

[the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep]

Alchemy 410 Chapter 19: Future Directions

Summary: The spring semester at Blackstaff Academy draws to a close, but Gale has one more surprise in store for Illyth.

Rating: M

Pairing: Gale x F!OC

Tags: Professor Dekarios, academia AU, fluff, wholesomeness

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: Just in time for Galemance week! I have an epilogue planned, but it’ll definitely take me a while to finish. Between work and school, your girl is gonna be tired. It’ll be well worth the wait!

Read chapters 1-17 here!

Illyth stood at the front of the room, with her long hair cascading over her shoulders. It was uncharacteristic of her to have her hair down in front of students, but nearly everybody looked a bit disheveled by the end of the term. Still, she carried herself with the same assertive mien. Her professor’s robes swished softly around her as she moved from left to right in front of the board. Illyth was busily scribbling a comparative phoneme diagram, detailing the links between Drowish, Duergan, Terran, and Undercommon. Occasionally she included an off-shoot note labeled with “patois” or “sub-dialect”. She knew every last phoneme and its placement in the oral cavity and oropharynx and how the sounds were influenced by early linguistic exposures, which were so often a blend of multiple dialects nowadays.

Under the cloak of Greater Invisibility, Gale snuck into the lecture hall just as Illyth began what would be the final lecture of the semester. He didn’t make a habit of dropping in on her classes, but this time, he had a surprise for her.

He watched as she moved through the room, her hands seeming to dance over the board as she gracefully scribbled symbols on the diagram. Gale could make out a handful of the phoneme symbols. Illyth mapped these out for him when he asked about what she was teaching, which resulted in a miniature lecture on linguistics. He and Illyth could go back and forth for hours, bandying information about their respective fields over a glass of wine — or several. Even when the rich Suzailain red wine slurred their speech, Illyth’s diction came through as clear as the finest crystal.

Illyth spoke of her father when she spoke of her work. He was part of why she cared so much about this topic area. Her father only spoke a Menzoberranzan Drowish dialect and refused to learn Common until after his wife passed away. Without the crutch of his bilingual wife and daughters, the old drow had to learn how to function in a new world. Illyth used her skills to teach her father pronunciations that didn’t come easily to him.

As his nascent romantic relationship with Illyth grew more serious, Gale met Illyth’s father — a churlish and brusque character — when Illyth accompanied him to the market as part of his Common lessons. Gale could see where Illyth’s stubbornness originated, as well as her round cheeks and aquiline nose.

A hush fell over the classroom as Illyth turned to face the small group of students.

“We’ve discussed plenty this term,” she began, leaning against the podium in a more casual posture. “Today, your thoughts, reflections, and final burning questions will take center stage, as it were.” Illyth gestured broadly but courteously to her students. “I yield the floor to you all. Tell me — what do you wish to know today?”

The class period passed quickly as Illyth bantered back and forth with her students, answering questions and carrying on lively conversations about particular patterns of speech and how Undercommon developed. Most of the discussion took place under the code of phonology and Gale could only parse out bits and pieces of what Illyth and her students were saying.

She moves so fluidly, speaks so comfortably… she’s in her element. She glows, smiling and gliding across the front of the room. Gods, the way she laughs… Gale was transfixed by his partner. With every trill of her tongue, he melted, almost losing grip on the Weave once or twice. She had never been quite so beautiful.

“… And that-“ Illyth punctuated her speech with a firm rap on the phoneme-covered chalkboard behind her. “Concludes our term’s exploration of the Underdark’s rich linguistic history.”

She was met with quiet applause from the group of ten upper-level students who sat before her in the lecture hall. Some of them would be joining her for doctoral theses in the Fall, while others would be venturing off to her alma mater, the University of Suzail.

Gale allowed his Greater Invisibility to fade as students filtered out of the room. With no new material to teach, Gale had canceled his lecture that day, which meant there would be no intrusions after Illyth’s final student left.

As Illyth bid goodbye to the last apprentice, her eyes flicked up to see Gale standing at the back of the room, applauding playfully.

“A truly informative discussion hour,” he mused as he approached her. “Though I would expect no less from the great Professor Arabana.”

“I didn’t expect you to audit my lecture today, Professor Dekarios,” she smirked. Their relationship was no secret at this point, though they still maintained a certain professional tone in their public interactions. They never touched each other in front of students or other faculty and never used affectionate language of any sort unless they were in the privacy of one of their offices.

“I am, as always, full of surprises,” Gale replied with aplomb. “Today, I am here to deliver news that you may find to be most thrilling.”

Illyth aped an expression of surprise. “Gale, you don’t mean to tell me that we have both been awarded tenure?”

“No, Professor, I have discovered something far better. Something beyond all the gold hoarded by the stingiest of dragons. Come along.” Gale bid Illyth to follow him to his office where Ardryll was waiting for them. Illyth quirked an eyebrow and sat alongside Ardryll.

Gale took a seat in front of them at his desk and produced a simple scroll. “My esteemed colleagues, I have some exciting news pertaining to the three of us.”

“With the aid of a dear friend and former magistrate, I have located a loophole in my research funding that may be of benefit. The amount I have been allocated would, in theory, cover passage to Djerad Thymar for a research expedition, however illusory magic must be the topic of study.”

“With that being said, I will require specialist assistance with respect to certain arcano-linguistic barriers which may impact spellcasting efficacy. I requested the aid of two specific experts in this content area.”

Gale looked at the elf scholars in front of him, grinning conspiratorially. “Any guesses as to who those experts might be?”

“Professors Almaz and Hearthstone?” Ardryll deadpanned. She was referring to two of their colleagues whose garnered far more attention than hers and Illyth’s.

Gale sighed irritably. “By Aghairon’s lost nose, Ardryll. It’s you and Illyth!”

Ardryll and Illyth’s wide. “You’re joking,” Illyth replied breathlessly. “You can’t be serious. How did you-“

“A wizard never reveals his secrets. Well, I suppose that’s a magician, but regardless,” Gale dithered. “The three of us will be traveling to Djerad Thymar in but a tenday.”

“How long will we be able to stay? This will take almost a year of work,” asked Ardryll, who was already beginning to fret about the logistics of such an excursion. “I don’t have lesson plans made for the next term. Hells, I suppose it won’t matter, given the circumstances. “Man alive, Djerad Thymar at last.”

Illyth looked up at Gale and cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re ready to venture off into parts unknown again, Gale?”

“I’ve meditated on that considerably,” he replied. “I still have my trusty traveling pack and I could stand to stretch my legs. I can ask Halaster to look after Tara again.”

Illyth’s eyes widened. “You’d trust him to look after Tara?”

“Well, it’s more so Tara looking after him at the end of the day,” Gale shrugged. “She can hold her own better than you’d think.”

Illyth opened her mouth to contest the point further, but the absurdity of it all left her speechless. Instead, a smile crept across her face. “You’re truly something special, Dekarios.”

“Oh, I’m well aware, Illy. Now, I believe we all have some packing to do.”

Ardryll and Illyth shared an ecstatic hug, still unable to believe their good fortune. As they began to leave Gale’s office, Gale took hold of Illyth’s hand.

“I shall see you later, yes? I believe you and I have a bard performance to attend, followed by wine tasting,” Gale reminded her. His gaze communicated that there were likely other activities in store for the evening.

“Yes, I’ll see you at the tavern at seven bells,” Illyth confirmed. She paused momentarily and allowed her eyes to meet Gale’s before she left. “I love you, Dekarios.”

Gale squeezed her hand. “I love you too, Illy.”

When Illyth and Ardryll stepped out into the hallway, Ardryll began to chuckle. “Well, at least that hot-shot gave us back our research money.”

Illyth sighed contentedly. “He sure did, didn’t he?”

“Will I be intruding on your honeymoon?” Ardryll asked with a wry smile.

Illyth shot her friend a long-suffering look. “Don’t start with me.”

Ardryll let loose a peal of laughter. Getting under Illyth’s skin was too easy and never ceased to amuse her. “Oh, c’mon now. You don’t want to be Professor Illyth Dekarios?”

“Absolutely not,” Illyth retorted. “I’ve published under my given name for far too long to eschew that.” She paused. “Perhaps I could be persuaded to hyphenate.”

“He’s going to ask you, you know,” Ardryll pointed out as they reached the front doors of the academy. They stepped out into the late spring sunshine, which stung their eyes with its brightness. “After all, it’s undeniable that the two of you have a certain… chemistry, shall we say?”

Illyth stifled a chuckled of amusement. “We have a lot of packing to do,” she said, changing the subject.

“Whatever you say, Professor Illy Arabana-Dekarios.”

Illyth didn’t bother to fire back a sharp-tongued retort. In fact, the name had a nice ring to it.

[socialjusticeinamerica]

Find refuge if you don’t have air conditioning. There are public cooling shelters set up in many communities. There’s always window shopping in malls or large stores where you don’t have to buy anything. Many local cinemas offer free or discounted daily matinees during the summer where it’s plenty cool. The public library, senior centers, various gov’t buildings, the super market, whatever it takes to keep cool. This is serious if you are some place where the temperature is 100 plus degrees and remember to stay hydrated.

Drink plenty of water or Gatorade if you are going to be active. Energy drinks with lots of caffeine and sugar will dehydrate you as will alcohol or coffee. Be advised that “energy” drinks are not “sports” drinks like Gatorade which is meant to keep you hydrated.

Stay out of direct sunlight. Heat stroke, heat exhaustion, and severe sun burns are no joke and can make you very I’ll or even be fatal. Use sunblock if you need to be in the sun. Do not use tanning products as these are accelerants designed to make you darker faster and will speed up the time to burn you. Everyone can suffer from too much sun even if you are naturally dark and it doesn’t readily show.

Take care of yourselves and bear in mind that paved surfaces, open air seating, and objects exposed to the sun (especially metal or dark colored) can severely burn you if you come into contact with them in triple degree weather. Also please don’t leave children, the elderly, or pets in parked cars.

[hum-suffer]

We'll say hello again (Nevermind the chasm between us) 5

The first time she meets Bhairav, she's confused, irritated and worried. Of course, Amrendra is the reason of her worry altogether.

The boy had left the lunch table without explanation and Maa had asked Gauri and Bhalla to find him since she had a council meeting that was extremely important for her to attend and the guards had all reported him going to the courtyard.

Bhalla, never one to panic, devises a plan: he goes south, she goes north. The first one to find Amrendra has dibs to punch him.

Gauri finds Amrendra, obviously, because she's more aware than Bhalla is and knows how to ask for help. The pride men have has always confused her but she's not going to comment, it's not her care. She looks for Katappa, the sworn shield of Bahu, and finds her idiot brother there, sitting under a tree and talking to the soldier.

"Then the prince of Mahishamati commands you. Please, feed me, Mama." He is saying, this slip of a boy that is Gauri's elder brother. He doesn't know how to weild authority and all he ends up doing is looking childlike. It's pathetic in a sense that is amusing.

She thinks she needs to teach him to be better but what is Bahu if not sincere smiles and cringe worth lies?

Gauri smiles smugly as she approaches them. "Above that," she keeps her tone light but firm and clear and straightens her back even more,"The Princess of Mahishamati commands you. Indulge my brother and I."

Katappa looks flustered for a moment but before he can say anything else, another voice piques up.

"But we have so many vows, Princess," he says, sitting at a far corner and alone, his plate empty in front of him and a smirk on his pretty face,"Follow the orders from royals, maintain decorum, stay away from royals unless needed. Which one shall we follow?"

Gauri smiles at his audacity even as she sees Katappa trying to shush the boy. She leans towards him, maintains a respectful distance but lets him be the center of her attention. She tilts her chin as she speaks,"Which vow is more of a priority to you, soldier? Should you maintain a boring decorum or should you listen to your princess and spend time listening to her?"

The soldiers smiles back,"Why, what a fool I would be to choose anything but my princess."

"A fool indeed," Gauri says and leans back, going back to her brother's side. He scoots over without so much as a glance to her, attuned to her. Gauri feels eyes burning the back of her head for a moment before it's gone.

The triumphant smile doesn't leave her face until she's dragging Bahu away from Katappa and the boy, their shared plate in Bahu's hand and as soon as they're away from prying eyes, Gauri punches him.

Bhalla expresses his loud regret.

Gauri thinks the day couldn't have been better and thinks of the mouthy boy in the courtyard. She thinks of all the things she could have said instead but tries to sleep.

Sleep comes fitfully to her now. Without Bahu, she spends nights half waking and half sleeping. The castle walls see her more than her bedsheets do.

She closes her eyes with a smile. Mahadev, she prays, thank you for a good day.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

It is the very next week that Gauri applies alta on her hands for the first time. It feels wonderful and even though she's barely 14, Gauri feels like she could close the world in her painted palms.

It took Maa six weeks to get convinced to allow Gauri to use alta but all that headache and pleading is well worth it. She applies it by herself, after her Shaashtra tests are done for the quarter year and while Bahu and Bhalla are sparring in the armoury yard.

She wants to do nothing more than lay down and open her hair to reduce the headache that is building in her mind but Bhalla promised to accompany her to the markets to buy anklets.

(Bahu should be coming too but that Maa's pet would tattle on their excursion and Maa would give them a lecture on how unsafe it is for them to wander markets and how they could just call the jewellers at the palace.

Gauri understands her, she does, but the jewellery they bring here is ostentatious and obnoxious and she likes to wander the markets even without cause.)

She closes her eyes and leans against the wall, trying to relax. The accessories in her hair pinch at her and she decides to hide all her hair accessories from her hand maidens. They go overboard these days.

However, just as she's beginning to relax, she hears a swish in the air and it's coming towards her. She opens her eyes just in time to see an arrow flying at her and ducks down, shooting her when upward to capture the arrow before it hits the wall.

It's pine wood, the arrow, so she knows it's not from her brother or cousin. They both use oakwood arrows. She looks up and Katappa is standing there with the boy who piques Gauri's interest even know, holding a bow and a quiver of arrows on his back. Bhalla is laughing beside the boy and Bahu is rushing towards her.

"I tried to stop Bhalla, but you know he has a bad sense of humour." Bahu says as a way of explanation. Gauri doesn't reply to him, already standing and beginning to walk towards the boy.

The boy lowers his eyes when she's near and kneels. Katappa knows the extent of Gauri's anger and begins to speak but the boy shoots his hand out and nudges Katappa's calf into silence.

"Rise," Gauri says as softly as she can. She's mad at Bhalla for the juvenile sense of humour that comes from putting people in danger and seeing their panicked looks, but she knows a soldier couldn't have very well disobeyed the prince of Mahishamati.

The boy rises instantly but keeps his head lowered. "My princess."

Her lips quirk in amusement despite her wishes to be stoic. His reverence as well as his audacity is interesting and curious. "My archer." She greets back as she extends the arrow still in her hands back to the boy who owns it. He hesitates only a moment before plucking it from her hands with the feather end but she sees it.

It's when he's putting it back in the quiver that she realises why he hesitated. Her alta is smeared all over the wood.

Thankfully, the alta in her hands is saved.

She gives the archer a sheepish smile. "May I know your name, archer?"

Still cautious of her ire, he speaks slowly. "Bhairavrath Prabhu, my princess."

"Thank you for alerting me, Bhairavrath." She says, because the swish of his arrow was obnoxious and obvious, before she swiftly turns to Bhalla and clenches her jaw,"I shall go to seek some rest away from unruly miscreants."

Behind her, Bahu snorts. Bhalla puts his sword back in his scabbard as he grins and begins to stalk towards her. "Miscreant?"

Gauri flashes a smile at Katappa, knowing he will have to chase them, and runs.

»»»»»»»»»»

Bhalla catches up to her when she's trying to hide behind a Banyan tree.

He cages her in his arms and twirls her around in the air, as she's laughing and elbowing him to put her down.

"You should apologise to me!" She insists as he puts her down,"I could have gotten seriously hurt!"

Bhalla half shrugs, his arms still around her,"But you didn't. You're my clever little sister."

"I despise you," she says even as she hugs him back. He drops a kiss on her temple.

Bhalla laughs back and pinches her nose, knowing that she can't relatilate with her alta laid hands,"You could never, Gauri. You love me too much."

She can't refute him with words, so she elbows him.

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The next day, Maa plans a royal family visit to the nearest Mahakaal temple for the Shiv Ratri celebration.

Gauri walks beside maa, while Bahu and Bhalla walk behind them. Uncle Bijjaldev has cited an ache in his hand and hence bailed.

"Your mother hated this colour," Maa says with a nostalgic smile. The saree Gauri is wearing is her favourite— yellow with some pink details on it. The fact that her mother disliked this colour makes her want to step back and ask Maa what should she do now because Gauri doesn't know an appropriate response to that.

As they toe off their shoes near the temple, Gauri absently gestures wildly and Bahu understands her even without eye contact. She hears him cajoling Bhairav and Katappa into the temple with them.

Maa continues,"You look a lot like her, you know? Everything except your eyes and ears, you get from her. Your eyes are your grandfather's." There kindness in Maa's words but the kindness stabs her all the same,"You've got a beautiful personality. Not like her, obviously, but beautiful. We all used to sit together and laugh at her enthusiasm of events. Her enthusiasm at getting dressed in these dark colours. She gifted me this saree."

The saree Maa is wearing is a deep purple, silk with golden embroidery at the helm, and Gauri knows that she won't ever be like her mother but will she ever be the reason of Maa's smile?

Because Maa only ever smiles so freely when she's with Bahu. Maa's smiles come to her with an association of her mother and Gauri loves her mother. She does.

But living in the shadow of a dead woman isn't the way she wants to be loved.

Close your eyes, Gauri hears as she enters the temple, and you will look like your mother.

Relaxed. Enchanting. Beautiful. Remembered. Blind. Dead.

Hide your ears, the voice echoes in her eyes as her feet are cooled by the slates in the temple, do not hear anyone, and you will look like your mother.

Elegant. Poised. Self confident. Dead.

It's robotic, the way she kneels down in front of the Shivaling and closes her eyes and bows her head so her hair cover her ears.

Do you think I'm good enough now, she wants to say, even if she knows maa never asked her to be better.

Gauri takes care to keep the kalash as near to the Shivaling as she can. The juvenile idea that too much height and force of milk will hurt the Shivaling lives in her mind. She doesn't voice it, she knows it's childish. It's better to be quiet than be laughed at.

As she pours kumkum laced water over the Shivaling, Gauri can't help but think Mahadev is crying the tears she can't.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Gauri stays behind after the puja.

Her classes for the day are cancelled and she wants nothing to do with the pressure that the palace comes with, while her brothers continue their arithmetic classes and Maa and uncle do whatever the governing requires.

She kneels on the ground at the backyard of the temple, guards posted at the front and sides of the temple to give her ample privacy as she closes her eyes.

If she isn't like her mother—enchanting, graceful, beautiful— and if she isn't like her Maa—smart, powerful, firm— what is she?

Bahu is like their father, everyone says. They're practically the same— same face, same gait, same morals and same smile.

(But he's not. Bahu has different smiles for different occasions, Bahu is loud when he's happy, he walks in a swagger when he's in a good mood and always puts his left foot first if he is upset. Bahu will taunt someone on their lack of talent but he will also risk his life for others. Bahu isn't the same as their father. Gauri shares the birth marks on her skin with her father— the same group of darker patches just below her left elbow that look like a splattering of ink. It's Bahu who has no birthmarks at all. It's Bahu, who has freckles dusting his back. It's Bahu, who almost always refuses to wear earrings because he doesn't like them. He's her brother. He's not same as their father, never. He is her brother. He is an individual. He's not a shadow.)

Bhalla is a lookalike of Maa but his nature leans more towards his father. Gauri worries for him but refuses to speak and meddle unless completely necessary. She knows her boundaries and assumptions never help a relationship. She knows from experience, if she opines on it to Bhalla, he will snap at her and then come back hours later, with a new bracelet in his hands for her.

She fingers the anklets that she received as her heritage from her mother. They make a lot of noise as she moves but even now, when she questions if she is only ever going to be almost her mother, the anklets provide her some peace.

A shadow falls over her and she looks up to see Bhairavrath standing there with his hand extending a leatherskin pouch to her. She looks up at him in question. "Drink some water, my princess," he says, voice timid as if he fears that she will reject him,"the sun is harsh today and you have been sitting under direct sun for an hour."

"An hour?" She asks and blinks. She takes the leatherskin pouch from his hand and sips some water. It doesn't taste the same as the water in the palace, somehow. It tastes better. She gives the pouch back to the boy and stands up. "I suppose we must move to the palace, then?"

"As my princess commands."

Despite whatever she's been thinking, the words provide her a sense of identity. She's not almost her mother. Being almost doesn't mean being absolute. She's Gauri and she's absolute.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

It's on Bhalla's fifteenth birthday that Gauri falls and falls and falls in a way that terrorizes her for the years to come.

It's on Bhalla's birthday that a waking nightmare starts and Gauri, Gauri is powerless to stop it.

____________________________________________________

CLIFFHANGER lmao

I'm not really sure about this, so please do tell me if I need to change something or improve something.

I'm also taking requests and tropes so if you've got some in mind, don't be shy to tell me at all! (Yes the fake relationship trope will come from my side🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝🌝)

Tagging: @vijayasena @alhad-si-simran @o-merebholebalam @multifandom-boss-bitch @satanicallysatanicchild

Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

[nehswritesstuffs]

HEART PIRATES WEEK 2024 - Day 1 of 9

I told myself last year that I was going to participate in Heart Pirates Week this year, and by thunder I'm going to participate in Heart Pirates Week!

Day One: Jean Bart - Cursed

457 words; I know the rules state that entries should be safe for work, but I also know each workplace is different, so I will be listing different qualifiers for each one; today’s warning includes references to Jean Bart’s past, as we all know that is not sfw by any means; these are going to end up being short because I said so (and I need some things that are shorter bites to practice on); very much NOT beta-read holy shit pls I’m on a time crunch here

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The skin on his back crawled.

It had not done so in a while, to the point he nearly forgot the sensation. How long had it been…? Months, at least…

His skin feels like fire. No, like ants. Not quite—like flaming ants that are just beneath the burn that’s centered on his back. He freezes in the middle of the town square, only for Clione and Bepo to stop walking as well.

“What’s wrong?” the Mink asked. “You’re acting strange.”

“It’s… there’s something that’s not right,” he replied. The large man glanced around the square—it was no different than any other seafaring port they had frequented since he had joined under the Captain. Everything looked normal, and yet…

…oh.

“There’s someone here,” he said gravely. “There’s someone like me.”

“You sure about that, big guy?” Clione asked quietly. “How can you tell?”

“I simply can.” Jean Bart moved his way through the crowd, using his scar as a guide; the more it itched, the closer he was. The trio eventually came to the entrance of an alleyway, where there was a figure hunched behind a stack of broken crates, back to the wall as they shivered in the Spring Island’s autumn.

“No…” the figure said, shaking their head in a motion so shallow and quick they might as well have been merely shaking. “I can’t go back.”

“You won’t,” Jean Bart said firmly. He held out his hand and tried to put the most sobering face on he could. “We have the same curse, in the same place, I imagine.”

“You… you were also…?” The figure leaned forward slightly, trying to get a look at good look at the trio. A scar ran down the side of their face, marring the skin so severely it looked like it had been extra branding, the scab tissue picked at and picked at until what remained was a gnarled mess. Was this a man…? For all the pirates could tell… though their voice dropped as they whispered, “a slave…?”

“I was a member of the Household of Saint Charlos,” Jean Bart confirmed. The person’s eyes went wide with hope. “I don’t know how you found your way here, but I know where you can go where no collar waits.”

“Where…?”

“With the man I will follow ‘til my dying day: Captain Trafalgar Law. He does not care for curses and neither does the rest of the crew.” Jean Bart stretched his hand out a bit further. “Welcome.”

Was the Captain a little irritated that they came back from the market with what marked their eighteenth mouth to feed? Yes, just a little, but he also, really, truly, couldn’t say no… not as long as they had the bunkspace.

[rhinozilla]

Detroit: Become Family 2022 - Prompt 1: Alone

@dbh-found-family

Hank remembered one of the big selling points when androids first hit the market was how low maintenance they were. How they had internal self diagnostics and repair programs built into them. How technology had reached a point that it could heal itself from damage or viruses or whatever.

Of course that had its limits, but some of those commercials were burned into Hank’s memory. He found them resurfacing in his mind as those first few weeks after the android revolution unfolded. The memory of the cheery voice of some paid actor—chirping “they’re so durable!” and “they can handle more than the average human and will last longer without getting tired!”—churned through his head against today’s televised imagery of battered and broken android bodies being processed through the recycling centers, of any that hadn’t shutdown limping into the sanctuary of Jericho’s walls, of those that braved the public walking stoically and trying to live their lives while having insults and judgment thrown at them.

Sure, anything could be low maintenance if you didn’t give a shit about it. Hell, humans could be low maintenance, and Hank was learning the hard way what low maintenance—and really, active self sabotage—could do to a body and a spirit. And after those first few weeks, reality was setting in for the population of Detroit, and one aspect of this new reality was that androids were people who needed maintenance just like humans did. And right now, there was a dearth of capable professionals willing to help them.

Cyberlife’s doors had been closed for nearly a month. All their storefronts, warehouses, corporate offices, supply shops, and repair shops had all closed in the aftermath. Anybody with Cyberlife on their resume had by and large fled the city, maybe fearing a violent turn in the android revolution that would have put a target on their backs. There were a few independent businesses that offered android maintenance and repair services, but Cyberlife had kept such an iron grip on their products and services that they had done an effective job in running most independent competitors out of town.

So when Connor finally, quietly, sheepishly admitted to Hank that he was having some system troubles that his self repair program couldn’t fix…Hank knew they were in trouble.

Connor had been shot at least once during that tussle with the other RK800 in Cyberlife’s basement. And between when he left after that and when Hank saw him again the next morning at the Chicken Feed, he’d managed to look worse. So who knew what happened to him in that period of time. He’d been so insistent that his self repair program could take care of all of it, and Hank didn’t know enough about android shit to argue otherwise.

Until here they were a month later, and Connor had admitted that his self repair program had fixed the external damage of getting shot in the shoulder, but it hadn’t been able to repair everything going on under the surface. Something about…synthetic muscle belts being out of calibration and limiting his range of movement…contaminants from the bullet casing penetrating his thirium stream and causing micro-tears in his lines…which gave those contaminants room to dig in…And how his system was working overtime to try and flush them out, causing him to start overheating, especially around the damage point…and that was making the area tender to the touch as thirium flow and delicate manufactured sensors started acting essentially as nerve endings.

Now Hank didn’t know fuck about shit when it came to android stuff, but all of that to him sounded like Connor had an infection at the damage site. His theory had been reinforced when he’d seen how inflamed, for lack of a better word, Connor’s shoulder looked when Connor let him see it. Yep, it looked infected, and it was making him sick.

So…now Hank had a sick android on his hands and no technicians or…android doctors or whatever they were calling themselves now…in sight.

Jericho had gathered a few resources. They had some supplies and certainly the know-how that would help…but Connor wasn’t welcome there. Markus and some of the others had accepted him and forgiven him for his role as the Deviant Hunter, but they were a minority. So Connor was emphatic that going to Jericho wasn’t a good idea.

The surviving independent businesses that were still offering repair services were slammed all day long with androids with all manner of damages and maladies. Again, androids who had cause to hate Connor and who might see his vulnerability as an opportunity for revenge. So Connor was emphatic that it wouldn’t be safe to go there.

A bunch of shady back-alley repairmen had started cropping up too, offering cheaper, low quality repairs to androids who were terrified of being on the radar and were willing to prioritize discretion over professional standards. That was out of the question.

The DPD…or the 7th precinct where Hank worked at least…was in the process of bringing back the law enforcement androids who had worked there prior to the revolution. Hank hadn’t told Connor this, but Hank had been having private conversations with Fowler about bringing Connor back on board. He was a good detective and officer, and those were in short supply at the moment with everything going on. Fowler was still resistant to the idea, but Hank was wearing him down. He had already brought back all the PM700s and PC200s that had wanted to come back, along with some ST300s that used to work the reception and file rooms. Plus some new ones.

All that to say, the 07 had elected to bring on an in-house technician, a guy formerly of Cyberlife but reputable, to take care of when the DPD androids were inevitably targeted or damaged in the line of duty. The station tech was the only option Connor had left, and despite Connor not being employed or registered to the DPD at the time, Fowler had at least pulled a few strings for Hank to let him bring Connor in for an examination and repairs.

Connor had reluctantly agreed, avoiding the bullpen or anywhere that the other androids or officers might spot him, and Hank had felt his heart twisting his chest at how anxious he was about being recognized—or worse—for being where he ‘didn’t belong.’

The station tech had worked wonders, got Connor patched up and on some round of…android antibiotics or whatever…and sent them on their way.

Now they were safely back home afterward, and the poor guy was exhausted and hadn’t moved from the couch since.

Hank kept glancing at him as he folded laundry on the kitchen table, and every time the sight was the same. Connor was lying on the couch, eyes closed, deep in rest mode per the tech’s instructions. The immobilization sling on his arm was keeping his shoulder still, and in a few hours he was supposed to take another dose of that anti-inflammatory powder mixed in with some cold thirium to help flush out that infection.

Sumo would occasionally lumber over and sniff at him before losing interest and coming over to nose at Hank’s leg. Currently, the dog was standing beside the couch, tail swishing slowly with curiosity as he watched the android rest.

“Sumo,” Hank whispered at him, setting down a folded towel. “Leave him be. He’s not feeling well.”

Sumo glanced at Hank, looked at Connor again, and made a tiny whine of protest as his favorite android didn’t immediately get up to play with him.

“Hey,” Hank chided quietly. “C’mere.”

Sumo huffed and then plodded over. Hank set down the laundry and ruffled his hands behind both of the big dog’s ears.

“I know, I’m worried about him too, but he’ll be okay. He’s got us, right?”

Yeah, Hank and Sumo were about the only ones that Connor had nowadays. Christ.

Hank shuddered to think what might have happened, how much worse it could have been, if Connor had been truly alone since the revolution. Cyberlife had done a bang-up job of making sure he was truly ostracized from his own people, and humans like Hank hadn’t wanted anything to do with him before the revolution. Most didn’t want anything to do with him now.

No other friends. No family. Pretty much no support from Jericho. Abandoned by Cyberlife. Cast out of anywhere that had ever made use of him. Alone. Hank couldn’t say he knew what that felt like on an android-level, but…he knew what loneliness was.

Well, he wasn’t alone now. And if Connor could peel a pathetic drunk like Hank off his kitchen floor and manhandle him into becoming a functioning human again, then Hank could sure as Hell make sure Connor had what he needed to get healthy again after this. And he could probably do it without breaking and entering through a kitchen window like a maniac.

Sumo huffed again, then trotted back over to the couch, turned in a circle, and flopped down on the floor beside it protectively.

“There you go,” Hank bobbed his head, picking up another towel to fold. “You keep an eye on him, a’right? And maybe I’ll google some home remedies for, uh, for how to cool down overheating androids, yeah? Yeah…we’ll get him back on his feet in no time.”

After all, they were friends, right? What were friends for?