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lihikainanea · 1 year

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just a thought I've been contemplating lately regarding height difference but how would Bill and Tiger manage in the shower??? do they ever shower together or have they compromised on shared baths? because I KNOW Bill would hog all the water (not because he's an ass bless him but because he literally towers over tiny Tiger and the water never reaches her) and she'd complain she was cold constantly. and I also think of how Tiger would want to maybe wash Billy's hair to relax him and make him feel good maybe like after a flight or something but she didn't think this through so then when the moment comes she realises she can't even reach him 😂😂

I, not so low-key, LOVE this idea nani.

I'm uh, not tall so I don't really have an issue with showers anywhere in the world. But my experience has been most parts of North America are home to the whole shower/tub situation, where in most places its one in the same--there's a tub, you stand in it, and there's also a shower spout that's high but not like, Bill high. And in Scandinavia they're a fan of the whole wet-bathroom idea--IE, all of the bathroom is a shower and everything gets soaked. Admittedly, I was very confused at this concept upon my first voyage into Scandinavia via the Thon hotel in Lillestrøm, Norway. I put my towels on the toilet like I do in any hotel bathroom, put my change of clothes there too, and by the time I was done my shower everything was...soaked.

I was vexed.

But now I'm kind of used to it and I actually ADORE the idea of a wet bathroom because it's just so easy to clean and just makes so much sense. And of course, as in most places in Scandinavia, things are just...a little higher up. Because the population is taller.

In any case, Bill likes the whole Scandinavian shower situation because he just never seems to have a problem--his head gets under the spout. In North America, though? Oh dear. Half of him gets showered, the other half remains dry. His head towers over the shower spout and he just stands there and frowns at it.

Bill complains endlessly about the shower situation in North America.

And like, my girl tiger--tiger has no problems. Tiger is not of giant proportions. She handles it just fine in North America, and after a little getting used to the shower situation and soaking wet bathroom in Scandinavia--she has that nailed down too.

But maybe....maybe this is on one of their road trips? Oh, be still my heart. All dingy, no-name motels and small towns. It's a beat up mustang convertible in small towns across the southern US. It's no-name hotels, it's diners, it's open road and long sunsets. And maybe they've been driving all day, gummy candy piled high in tiger's lap while Bill has his RayBans on, one hand on the stick shift, all the windows open. Bruce Springsteen is blasting and tiger is singing along (horribly). She's full of dodgy corndogs from the last gas stop, Bill's fingers are still stained neon orange from Doritos, and every once in awhile she shoves a gummy bear in his mouth. They have no idea where they're gong, and it doesn't matter.

But after hours of driving they pull into some weird town and find a motel for the night. He stops off at a liquor store and tiger gets some scotch. They get some peanuts from the vending machine in the parking lot, and the parking lot is right outside their door. It's sticky hot, humid, the dead of summer and the hum of cicadas and the buzz of the bug zapper break the silence.

Maybe they've both had a rough go of it lately, maybe neither of them have. Maybe Bill's off and between shoots and tiger can work from anywhere, maybe it's cold where they last stayed, maybe it was too busy with too many lights--maybe it was everything and nothing, maybe they busted wanted to reconnect with each other, and this is the best way they know how.

Dinner is whatever they can scrounge up. Pub fare from a local dive. Whatever they can find in the hot section of the local gas stop, even if it looks like those hot dogs have been turning on that hot plate for a year. They fill their bellies and their souls, laughing at the terrible karaoke and knocking back even more terrible spirits on ice. When they get back to the motel they sit out on rickety plastic chairs, knocking back scotch that burns and easing the sting with the salt of the peanuts. They talk about everything--how they feel, who they are, who they've become, them, the us of it--and nothing at all. And when Bill finally fans the neck of his t-shirt, exhales loudly, tiger smiles.

"Bit sticky ain't it?" she asks.

Bill widens his eyes, fans himself.

"You look like a sweat hog triple-dipped in Crisco and strung up on a grease pole," she smirks.

Bill eyes her, quirks a brow.

"What?' she asks innocently, "I always say that."

Bill stares at her, takes a swig of his scotch without breaking eye contact.

"I heard our waitress say it," she finally mumbles. Bill snorts.

"C'mon," she stands, pulling on his arm, "Shower. Bed."

Bill knocks back the rest of his scotch and lets her pull him up.

"Bold of you to assume I fit into either of those things," he whispers mischievously, stealing a kiss. Tiger just smirks.

"Bold of you to assume I don't have years of experience shoving you into all kinds of places you don't fit, big bird."

She pulls him down into a heated kiss and he tastes of cheap whisky and smoke. He moans into it but before he can grab hold of her for more she breaks free, tugs him into the dingy room. He steals as many kisses as he can while she gets him out of his pants, tugs his t-shirt over his head. She starts the shower, testing the water as he pulls impatiently at her clothes, and then she ducks under the stream of water and pulls him in with her.

It's laughable, really. He has to duck under the shower rod and his head nearly hits the ceiling, the shower nozzle only hitting halfway down his chest. She stifles a giggle and he glares playfully.

"This is fun," he deadpans.

"Come on bud," she giggles, "Come down here, I'll wash your hair."

He tries crouching but the space really is just too small and he really is just too big, so after a bit of shifting he finally just ends upon his knees in the tub while tiger grabs the shampoo.

But y'know...on his knees, he's really at the perfect height. And her hands are in his hair anyway, and he's feeling a might bit mischievous, so maybe he just places a suckling kiss on her lower belly...and then another one...and then before she can yank him back, he dives forward and swipes his tongue through her folds.

"Bill," she tries to admonish, but it comes out as more of a pleasured sigh. She runs her hands through his hair, lathering it up, and while she's rather defenseless--he does it again.

"Stop," she says meekly, but her legs are going to jello and her hands are kind of tugging him forward, grasping at his hair. So he grabs one of her legs, loops it onto his shoulder.

"Hold on tight kid," he purrs.

"Billy no," she whimpers.

"Hush," he tuts her, "Just trying to make us both fit in here. This is the only way."

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #BFF!Bill #bill skarsgard fic #bill skarsgard fiction #bill skarsgard fanfic #bill skarsgard fanfiction

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blanxkey · 5 years

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the long way home || 2000 words

lucas turns seventeen on the road.

///

he doesn’t know why he proposes the idea in the first place.

except that when lucas wakes up one morning, flushed warm and sticky from sweating all night, his days withering and uncomfortable beneath a scorching july sun, he decides that he’s had enough. there’s heat dripping from every crevice of his bedroom walls – the boy above him traces soft, languid fingers over his naked back – and lucas blames it for the way his skin sings with the barest of touches.

when he feels the press of eliott’s lips to his spine, lucas shifts so he’s laying on his back. eliott hovers over him, balanced onto his elbows. mouth forms the beginning of a lazy smile, eyes following a little too closely, “morning.”

“let’s get away,” the syllables slip out, sleep induced and sort of bleary. “i don’t want to spend another day in this hell hole.”

eliott hums when he kisses the top of lucas’ nose, moves back to straddle his waist. lucas rest his hands on eliott’s thighs, strokes up, and down, and over each brush of morning light. appraisal catches eliott’s eyes – they’re so grey at this hour, grey like a sky kindling thunderclouds or lightning storms. “and where would we go?” eliott considers, if only to humour him, but he doesn’t laugh. something curls low in lucas’ belly, a sharp tug of impulse that turns giddily in his blood.

shrugging is vain, but he tries his best, says, “somewhere – anywhere, it doesn’t matter – we’ll think of something.”

eliott smiles fondly, briefly, before he’s kissing him. his kisses are tender, quite noises and gentle hands, and lucas will always melt in his hands. his heart takes on a messy beat. eliott, eliott, eliott.

outside, the chirping gets louder as paris comes slowly to life.

///

(recklessness is dangerous, a polished darkness. a spider’s web, fusing in the place where clear and broken meet. but sense fails, sometimes, falters when eliott says they’re still young. palms over his eyes, he leads lucas to the convertible parked just outside, dusty and hibernating. my uncle’s. eliott had just received his license, he only had to ask, and lucas would always go.)

///

they keep on chasing the asphalt even when the sun drips low on their backs, lucas likes that they never stay too long at one place, always moving, like the paths they follow. there are two bags of clothes hastily prepared, a motel, two, then three, and the distinction blurs. all of lucas’ shirts smell like eliott. hands draped over the steering wheel, pink blooming on his cheeks, eliott develops a liking to lucas’ snapback. when he grins at lucas behind his aviators, he looks like he belongs.

it’s an empty road, unwinding before lucas’ eyes, never looping, that sees the sun on lucas’ seventeenth.

seventeen. a number suspended between young and old, neither here nor there. if lucas thinks hard, he won’t remember how he got here, only that he’s glad eliott’s there with him. eliott, who’s drumming his fingers against the wheel. he doesn’t look over when he asks “wouldn’t you rather be anywhere else right now?”

lucas frowns. “like where?” he doesn’t know where they’re headed; the road atlas lies forgotten on the console. he just keeps watching as the sun casts faint shadows of eliott’s eyelashes over his cheekbones.

“i don’t know…like home.”

“no –” lucas answers quick, final. he looks out the window, at the lush green trees lining one side of the road, towering like skyscrapers under the bright sunlight. he thinks about how, when he was young and confined to the four walls of his parent’s room, the world stretched vast and mysterious, foreboding outside the comfort of his own home. in his dreams, it grew darker the longer he walked, and he feared that if he walked too far, he’ll never find a way back home.

now, eliott feels like an antithesis of those dreams, or a whisper of a new dream. a dream that he no longer fears, or represses, a dream he sees through open eyes. eliott changes lanes and the engine hums, the wind ruffles their hair and lucas watches deep grass field zooming by in the rear view mirror, but the doesn’t look back. he doesn’t have to. today, this minute, right now – “i am home.”

///

impromptu stops punctuate their journey, five minutes at tesco, ten at a gas station, thirty when they stop to have lunch at an Italian diner where the lady serving them keeps pinching eliott’s cheeks. it’s endearing to watch, the way a shy smile breaks across his face every time it happens.

when it feels like they’ve driven too far, eliott pulls over to the side of the road. he’s taken them somewhere, at last.

“come on,” eliott prompts, stepping out of the car. “always wanted to show you this.”

and lucas goes. he follows eliott to a sunset of fiery colour, to erupting hues of orange and dusky purple above, and pure, pure gold in front of him.

for a moment he feels transfixed, unable to move. the fields widen before him, on and on, until they meet the horizon. beige and sun-scorched sunflower stalks bend in the wind, the flowers sway gently atop, grasshoppers chirping somewhere among them. time comes to a standstill here, and he drinks in the stillness of it all, breathes until his lungs fill up with the wispy aura of high summer.

the world resumes again when eliott comes into his peripheral, holding a basket that lucas remembers they definitely didn’t have.

“where did you get that from?” lucas asks as eliott leads them ahead. he finds a clear spot just at the mouth, and starts unloading the basket, explaining as he does: “the lady at the diner prepared it for us. i only asked for some snacks for the road, but she insisted on the basket as well.”

lucas sits down next to him, his voice is full of mirth when he exclaims, “oh, so i was right! she did like you too much.”

“shut up.” and whether it’s the last bit of sunlight playing with eliott’s cheeks or the tint of an actual blush, lucas doesn’t know.

eliott lays out sandwiches and crisps, chocolates and rice cakes. there’s lukewarm beer for lucas, coke for eliott. lucas unwraps a sandwich, gazes at eliott as he does the same, and doesn’t feel ashamed in watching him eat.

“i know the cake’s missing,” eliott looks away when he catches his eyes. “but i’ll make it up to you, i promise.”

the way he looks right now, the way he carefully avoids lucas’ gaze, occupying himself with observing their surrounding instead, makes lucas’ heart race. he feels stupid, guilty even, for not voicing his gratitude before. for making eliott think he would want anything else, more. but still the words don’t come.

“it’s okay,” lucas hides behind his beer, it’s all he can say. “i know you will.”

they make use of their phones’ flashlights when the light fades to a dull grey. “do you come here often?” he asks after some time, when eliott has finished his coke.

eliott shakes his head. his eyes roam around them, turn somewhat wistful, like he’s remembering something. “only when i was young,” he swallows before continuing, “when dad wasn’t working or mom craved a drive, this is where we ended up.”

lucas observes the giant stalks, like if he searches hard enough, he can find the ghosts of eliott’s memories floating about. he can feel himself smiling at that, trying to imagine little eliott running through the field, screaming, laughing, complaining... “isn’t this a bit far?”

“it never was. not for me, at least,” eliott affirms, and then he winks. it’s hard to catch under the fading light. “i was always eager to return, to catch a glimpse of those wild animals people talked about.”

“is that why you brought me here? to feed me to your beast friends?” lucas gasps, affronted.

that squeezes a laugh out of him, loud and booming. eliott’s carefree under the fading light, pretty in the way that catches his eye. that whispers to him like the call of sleep. lucas keeps the moment close. “beast friends, god…” he wipes at his eyes, heaves out a sigh afterwards.

“yes, actually that was at the top of my bucket list,” he leans in to whisper conversationally, when he’s calmed down enough.

the prospect of feral animals living right here is, admittedly, terrifying, but he knows eliott wouldn’t take him somewhere dangerous, unsafe. so he lets it go, focuses instead on the next pressing matter. “what bucket list? why am i now hearing of a bucket list?”

“because i’m secretive and mysterious,” eliott says, puffing out his chest.

lucas scoffs. “or because you’re just making it up as you go.”

there’s a pich to lucas’ side. “hey!” he throws his hand over eliott’s shoulders, but he pivots, and pushes, and they end up falling backwards, lucas on the ground, eliott on top of him. the tiny gossamer strands of grass tickle his backside through the thin tank top, but the weight of eliott is comfortable above him.

“why,” eliott mumbles, and it sounds like he’s pouting, “is your humour always on my expense?”

lucas leans forward, presses his lips to eliott’s nose. “you love it, demaury.”

there are hands on his sides, fingers gripping the material of his shirt, and then there are soft lips on his. eliott licks into lucas’ mouth; he tastes faintly of chocolate. he holds lucas close when he kisses him, like lucas is the air he breathes, like lucas is the sun, the moon and all his stars. it makes lucas’ heart beat clumsily out of pace. he isn’t sure he can live under this effect for long.

when they part, a tiny smile is tugging eliott’s lips up. it widens when he sees lucas’ answering grin. pupils glimmering from the ever-widening bands of moonlight, eliott hoists them upwards.

“maybe i just won’t make it up for the cake, then.”

lucas’ eyes roll on their own. “you’re something else, entirely.”

“you love it, lallemant.”

///

later, after night drapes over the world in a glimmering sheet of navy, on and on they go. the tires crunch over gravel, throwing off sand and dust. lucas feels so full, feels like his heart could burst any moment right now. there aren’t enough words to explain how he feels, but he tries his best.

“thank you for today, eliott. it was beautiful, really,” it comes out meek, silent over the changing notes from the radio, but eliott hears him anyway. he glances at lucas, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles bashfully. faint moonlight silver breaks through the window by his side, colours his skin in soft graphite.

he turns back to the road. lucas keeps watching. “we need to find a place to stay, for now,” he announces, smile still in place, messes with the radio dial. “here,” he passes over the road atlas to lucas, “find us a motel, and tomorrow i’ll take you somewhere more beautiful.”

promises, promises.

“oh? another task on your bucket list?”

“uh uh, right alongside finding our tunnel song.”

lucas smiles. he traces a path on the map, then another, fingers passing over where they are now and where they had been to where they will be. an elaborate pattern, obscured by several memories lining the trail. but it doesn’t matter—it’s eliott he’s talking about, of course he would find a way back home.

(for now, though, lucas leans in his seat as moon river croons through the radio, as the cadence of sleep calls to him. he closes his eyes for a moment, just to feel earthed somehow. seventeen, he thinks, a number that feels like falling, and flying, and love – warm, warm, warm)

and eliott – he drives them further into the moonlit night.

#skam france #lucas x eliott #mywriting;#was supposed to post this yesterday #but some things happened and i #forgot #anyway #happy (belated) birthday lucas #i hope you had a blast with my son eliott

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iloveyoupittsburghpirates-blog · 6 years

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Keep Beating Up On The Weaklings, Pittsburgh Pirates

My Dearest Pittsburgh Pirates,

That’s a good start to your stretch of games against bad teams that you should beat up on. You started the week off the against the lowly Chicago White Sox. After taking game one, coming back from a 4-0 deficit in the first inning, you trailed 4-0 again in game two but this time it was going to the 6th inning when Mercer and Polanco both hit solo homers. It seemed like you might have spoiled an opportunity to take two from one of the worst teams in baseball when the White Sox added a run to make it 5-2 going to the 9th. After back to back singles from Marte and Bell, Elias Diaz came up with one out and ripped a two-run double to score both and bring the score to 5-4. Rookie Colin Moran came up next and hit a two-run homer to give you the lead for good. After your second off day of the week, the San Francisco Giants and prodigal son Andrew McCutchen came to Pittsburgh. In all three games, the fans gave Cutch a standing ovation of appreciation for almost single-handedly bringing this organization back to prominence. Even for someone not at the stadium, the moment was special to watch especially because it brought your highest attendance so far this season. You did somewhat spoil his return by winning two out of three and making it a successful 4-1 week. Opportunities to beat up on bad teams still exist this week so let’s strive for a similar outcome.

It’s finally over. Geroge Kontos (4.58 ERA, 1.42 WHIP, 7 K’s in 17 2/3 IP) has been removed from the 8th inning setup role after he blew yet another lead against the Giants on Saturday. I complained last week about Hurdle leaving Kontos in during a key moment against the Brewers when Ryan Braun was coming up. He blew it then and when you had a one run lead in the 8th inning Saturday my phone was blowing up with people complaining that they knew Kontos would be coming in and would blow it again. How did everyone in Pittsburgh except Clint Hurdle know this? Obviously, he gave up a run to tie the game. Fortunately, you were able to get the run back next inning when former Bucco, Tony Watson, hit Jordy Mercer with a pitch with the bases loaded and you held on to win. Based on comments made by Hurdle and GM Neal Huntington on Sunday, it seems like the straw finally broke the camel’s back and Kontos has been removed from that role. The most frustrating part is you have so many better options. Michael Feliz (3.18 ERA, 1.29 WHIP, 23 K’s in 17 IP) has done great work in the 7th inning so he could easily transfer to the 8th. Edgar Santana (1.08 WHIP, 16 K’s in 16 2/3 IP) has been good all season and would work out great in the 7th. If those two or your closer Vazquez needs a day off, then Kyle Crick (2.89 ERA, 1.39 WHIP, 13 K’s in 9 1/3 IP) has performed well for most of the season too. That seems like the best way to go at this point. I know Richard Rodriguez (1.84 ERA, 1.23 WHIP, 25 K’s in 14 2/3 IP) has done nice work but he gave up the run on Wednesday in Chicago to give them a 5-2 lead. Even worse, he came in to relieve Ivan Nova trailing 2-0 yesterday with two men on base and promptly gave up a three-run homer to put the game out of reach. He probably shouldn’t be counted on in too many high leverage situations and neither should Kontos. Kontos velocity had dipped from prior seasons and it’s hard to be a back end of the bullpen guy when you don’t have a legitimate strikeout pitch. I mean, look at his strikeout rate. Both of those guys should be relegated to middle relief and what once was a struggling bullpen suddenly looks like a strength.

You are about to have a very good problem. You only needed four starting pitchers this week so you sent down Nick Kingham Later this week you will need a fifth starter again and it seems like Kingham will then return. That’s at least what I want to see. The other interesting element to this discussion is Joe Musgrove, a starting pitcher acquired in the Cole trade. Musgrove started the season on the DL but has been pitching rehab assignments lately working his way back to the majors. He should have one more rehab start to get himself up to 100 pitches but his most recent one on Saturday was, well, perfect. He only went 5 2/3 innings due to an 80 pitch limit, but he didn’t give up a walk, or a hit, and struck out six. After one more start in the minors, he will be ready to come up which begs the question: What do you do with the rotation? Obviously, you could send Kingham back down though based on what I’ve seen he’s one of your top five starters. Musgrove did pitch out of the bullpen last year with great success for the Astros but if he’s pitching like this I at least want to see what he can do as a starter. Taillon and Williams are entrenched in the top five so that leaves Kuhl and Nova. Funny enough, Nova’s currently the worst out of the six. He’s currently sporting a 5.01 ERA with a 1.35 WHIP. His start yesterday was going well before the tires fell off in the 6th, but his two starts before that were horrible. Kuhl’s numbers are a little better, 4.17 ERA and 1.35 WHIP, and he’s coming off not only his best start of the season but arguably the best of his career. It’s hard for me to imagine you pulling either of them out of the rotation though. I really don’t have a guess for what’s going to happen. Knowing you though, my out-there prediction is if Nova’s next start is poor you will put him on the DL for some random reason and let the other five go for two weeks to see how they perform and then re-evaluate. That’s also if Taillon’s finger injury that caused him to leave the game Friday doesn’t remain a problem. Given how little faith I admittedly had in your starting pitching going into this season, I’ll happily deal with problems like this.

We are almost at the quarter point of the season and you still remain only a ½ game out of first place. So, who is your MVP so far? There are two very easy candidates right now in Francisco Cervelli (.305 avg. .414 OBP, 6 HR’s 24 RBI’s, .985 OPS) and Corey Dickerson (.319 avg, .355 OBP, 5 HR’s, 27 RBI’s .880 OPS). Dickerson is also just behind the league leader in doubles with 12. The one guy who is also in the conversation who probably isn’t getting enough credit right now is Starling Marte (.304 avg, .362 OBP, 6 HR’s 19 RBI’s, .856 OPS, 10 SB). Marte already has 15 walks this season after only having 20 last season. He did only play a half season with his suspension but he played a full season the year before, his best season too, and only walked 23 times. His plate discipline has improved exponentially. Marte has also finally started playing the type of CF we expected with two catches in the last week that only a handful of players in baseball could make. If those are the candidates for MVP, then who are the finalsist for most disappointing players? Josh Bell (.721 OPS) is the leading candidate now with Polanco (.808 OPS) a little more on track but my actual choice is Adam Frazier (.231/.286/.308 for a .593 OPS.) There was a time before you got Corey Dickerson that he was going to be your starting LF. That alone might give Dickerson the MVP and prove how poor the front office judgment can be at times. After the JHay injury, Frazier was penciled in as the starting 2B and leadoff man but has just been abysmal. When you bring up your fifth starter this week, he or Max Moroff will be demoted. There’s no way Jose Osuna will now that he’s legitimately the best hitter on this team against lefties. His absurd overall OPS of 1.188 (obviously extreme small sample size) will keep him in the majors. With Bell’s early struggles too, he could play 1st or even RF for Polanco like he did yesterday. Either way, that guy has to start every game against lefties. JHay starts a rehab assignment this week so Frazier’s value diminishes even more for a guy David Freese said could win a batting title one day. He very well could, but it will probably have to be in Triple-A.

Like I’ve been saying, this week provides you another opportunity against two struggling team. You have another two-game series against the White Sox starting tomorrow, this time in Pittsburgh. The White Sox currently have the worst record in all of baseball. You do face their ace, Reynaldo Lopez, tomorrow but you should still be able to win both of those games. Starting Thursday, you begin a four-game series with the San Diego Padres who currently have the fifth worst record in all of baseball. That series is in Pittsburgh too and with how competitive your division has been all season, you can’t afford a bad week against bad teams. That hasn’t been a problem all year so I’m hoping it doesn’t start now. After three games against lowly Cincinnati next week, you have a stretch of games when you play the Cardinals, Cubs, Cardinals again, Dodgers, Cubs again, and the Diamondbacks. All of those teams, except the Dodgers, are either in first place or within a game of it. That’s a rough 13 game stretch with only one day off within it. That’s why it’s even more essential to win as many games as possible this week. You’ve gotten plenty of rest with three off days in the last week, so you should be prepared to do battle. Great job this week and let’s keep the ball rolling. Love you and talk to you next week!

Continuously Impressed,

Brad

P.S. unfortunately won’t stand for Pens’ series after today (But please still checkout DEATH AT SUNSET: HARD TIMES AND SOFT DRINKS, a radio play, noir detective story written by Chris Maxwell and myself now available on Apple Podcasts, Stitcher Radio. Google Radio Play, and SoundCloud.) The Pens ran out of gas and finally got beat by the Washington Capitals on an OT goal in game six to end their season. Malkin and Kessel were injured, they lost five major role players from last season, and they were just out-played. It was a hell of a run for the winner of the last two Stanley Cups. This team should still be a contender for years to come. Thanks for two great seasons, Pens. Now get some much-deserved rest.

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andrewdburton · 4 years

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Socially Responsible Investing: Is It Also More Profitable?

Since the Dawn of Mustachianism in 2011, the same question has come up over and over again:

“MMM, I see your point that index fund investing is the best option. But when you buy the index, you’re getting oil companies, factory farm slaughterhouses and a million other dirty stories.

How can I get the benefits of investing for early retirement without contributing to the decline of humanity?”

And in these nine years since then, the movement towards socially responsible investing has only grown. Public pension funds have started to “divest” from oil company stocks, and various social issues like human rights, child labor, climate change or corporate corruption have bubbled to the surface at different times.

And all of this has led to the exploding new field of Socially Responsible Investing (SRI), and a growing array of new ways to do it.

So it seems that this is not just a passing trend – people just might be starting to care a bit more. And since capitalism is just an expression of human behavior, the nature of capitalism itself may be starting to change.

This leads us naturally to the question:

What can I do with my money to help fix the world? And even better, is there a way I can make money in the process of fixing it?

The answer is a good, solid “Probably.”

As long as you don’t get too hung up on getting every last detail perfect, because just like real life, investing is a haphazard and approximate and unpredictable thing. But by understanding the big picture, you can make slightly better decisions on average, which lead to slightly better results. And slightly better results, stacked up consistently over time, can lead to a much better life, or even a much better world.

This is true in all of the main areas we care about – personal wealth, fitness and health, even relationships and happiness. And while your money and investments are certainly not the most important thing in life, they are still worthy of a bit of easy and effective optimization.

So anyway, the first thing to understand with SRI is, “what problem am I trying to solve?”

The answer is, “You are trying to make your investing (especially index fund investing) have a better impact on the world.”

On its own, index fund investing is ridiculously simple. You just get an account at any brokerage like Vanguard, Etrade, Schwab or whatever, and dump all your money into one exchange-traded fund: VTI.

When you do this, you are buying a stake in 3500 companies at once(!), which is both impressive and overwhelming. How do you even know what you are holding?

Well, this is all public information, and easily available with a quick Google search. For example, here’s a list of the top 90 holdings in VTI (click for larger):

Top 90 holdings in Vanguard’s VTI Exchange Traded Fund

As you can see, the biggest chunk of money is allocated to today’s tech darlings, because this index fund is weighted according to market value, and these are the most valuable companies in the US today.

Through a convenient coincidence, the total value of the VTI fund happens to be just under $1 trillion dollars, which means you can just throw a decimal point after the ten billions digit of market value to get a percentage. In other words, about 4.7% of your money will go towards Apple stock, 4.4 towards Microsoft, and so on. Together, these top 90 companies are worth more than the remaining 3,540 companies combined, so these are what really drive your retirement account.

And within this list, you will see some of the usual suspects: Exxon and Chevron (oil), Philip Morris (tobacco), Raytheon and Lockheed (bombs), and so on.

But what about the less-usual suspects? For example, I happen to think that sugar, and especially sugar-packed beverages like Coke, is the biggest killer in the developed world – a major contributor to 2 million of the 2.8 million deaths each year in the US alone. Should I exclude that from my portfolio too?

And what about drug and insurance companies – aren’t they behind the political stalemate and high costs of the US healthcare system? Comcast funded some election disinformation campaigns here in my home town in the early 2010s, should I exclude them too? And if you’re part of a religion that is against charging interest on loans, or in favor of pasta and Pirate costumes, or against a spherical Earth, or any number of additional ornate rules, you may have still more preferences.

The higher your desire for perfection, the more difficult this exercise will become. However, if you are like me and you just want to get most of the desired result with minimal effort, you might simply have a look at the Vanguard fund called ESGV.

ESG stands for “Environmental, Social and Governance”, and in practice it just means “We have tried to avoid some of the shittier companies according to some fairly simple rules.”

And the result is this:

Vanguard’s ESGV Exchange traded fund (ETF) – top 90 holdings

The first thing you’ll notice is that it’s almost the same. In fact, the top five holdings – Apple, Microsoft, Amazon, Facebook, Alphabet (Google) and Netflix not far behind, collectively referred to as the FAANG stocks – are completely unchanged – and this means that there will be plenty of correlation between these funds.

It’s also the reason that the stock market as a whole has recovered so quickly from this COVID-era recession: small businesses like restaurants and hair salons have been destroyed by the shutdowns, but big companies that benefit from people staying at home and using computers and phones are making more money than ever. The stock market isn’t the whole economy, it’s just the publicly traded companies, which are the big ones.

But let’s look at the biggest differences between the normal index fund versus the social version.

The following large companies listed on the left are missing in the ESGV fund, in order of size. And to make up the difference, the stake in the companies on the right have been boosted up to take their place in your portfolio.

Main differences between VTI and ESGV (source: etfrc)

The omission of Berkshire Hathaway was a bit of a shocker, as it is run with solid ethical principles by Warren Buffet, one of the worlds most generous philanthropists. And in fact the modern day nerd-saint Bill Gates is on the Berkshire board of directors, another person whose work I follow and respect greatly.

(side note: Apparently the company fails on the “independent governance” category. And Buffet disputes this category, but in his characteristic way has decided to say, “Fuck it, I’ma just keep doing my own thing with my half-trillion dollar empire over here and you can have fun with your little committee” – I’m paraphrasing a bit but he totally did say that.)

Furthermore, both funds hold the factory meat king Tyson foods, while neither holds Roundup-happy Monsanto, because it was bought by the German conglomerate Bayer AG a while back. Nextera is a giant electric utility in the Southeastern US that claims to be the world’s largest generator of renewable energy. Some do-gooders are against nuclear power, while others (including me) think it’s the Bee’s Knees and we should keep advancing it. And all this just goes to show how nobody will agree 100% on what makes a good socially responsible fund.

But What About The Performance?

In the past, some investors were nervous about giving up oil companies in their portfolio, because while it was a dirty substance, it was also what made the world go round – which meant it was a cash cow.

Now, however, oil is on its way out as renewable energy and battery storage have crossed the cost parity threshold – meaning it’s cheaper to make power (and vehicles) that don’t use oil. In its place, technology is the new cash cow, and tech is heavily represented in the ESG funds. The result:

Traditional index fund (VTI) vs Socially Responsible equivalent (ESGV)

As you can see, the performance has been similar but the ESG fund has done significantly better in the (admittedly short) time since it was introduced at Vanguard.

Of course, we have no idea if this will continue, but the point is that at least our thesis is not a ridiculous one – environmentally sustainable companies do have an advantage, if the world gradually starts to care more about these things. And if you look at the share price of Tesla and other companies that surround it in electric transportation and energy storage, you will see that there are many trillions of dollars already lining up to benefit from this transition. And the very presence of so much investment money creates a self-fulfilling prophecy, as Tesla is now building or expanding five of the world’s largest factories on three continents simultaneously.

So What Should You Do? (and what I do myself)

My latest home-brewed ebike project – this one can reach 42MPH / 67km/hr!

First of all, it helps to remember a fundamental piece of economics: your spending dollars will probably have a much bigger impact than your investment dollars. This is because you are sending a direct message to the world rather than an indirect one:

When you buy a new gasoline-powered Subaru (or a tank of gas for your existing guzzler) or a steak at the grocery store, or a plane ticket, you are telling those company directly that consumers want more of these products, so they will produce more of them immediately.

When you buy shares in Exxon, you are only subtly raising the demand for those shares, which raises the average price, making it ever-so-slightly easier for Exxon to maybe issue more shares in the future. In other words, you are making it easier for them to access capital. But capital is only useful if there is demand for their products. And with oil there is a nearly constant surplus, which is why OPEC and other cartels need to work together to artificially restrict supply, just to keep prices up.

Plus, as a shareholder you are theoretically eligible to place votes and influence the future direction of companies – even companies that you don’t like. If you look up the field of “shareholder activism”, you’ll see this is a tradition that goes way back.

So I have tried to take a few simple steps on the consumer side myself, and I find it quite satisfying: Insulating the shit out of all of my properties, building a DIY solar electric array on one of them, and buying one electric car so far to eliminate local gas burning. And a few electric bikes including a super fast one I made myself.

Each one of these steps has provided a very high economic return, percentage-wise, but that still leaves a lot of money to account for, which brings us back to stock investing.

As someone who loves simplicity, I have done this:

Bought almost entirely VTI (or similar Vanguard funds) from 2000-2015

Started experimenting with Betterment in 2015, liked it, and have been adding a percentage of my ongoing savings to that account to that since then. (Note that Betterment now also offers a socially responsible portfolio option.)

Switched the dividend re-investing of my old Vanguard VTI over to Vanguard ESGV, to avoid “wash sales” in making the most of Betterment’s tax loss harvesting feature.

Bought some shares of Berkshire Hathaway separately, and also make a few sentimental investments in local businesses, including the MMM HQ Coworking space.

But you could choose to be more hardcore in your ESG/SRI investing:

Buy your own basket of stocks based on the index, but with different weighting based on your own values

Spend more money on other things that generate or save money (a bigger solar array on your house, better insulation, electric car, an ebike to reduce car trips, etc.)

Invest in local businesses of your choice, rental real estate, community solar projects, or other things which generate passive income – publicly traded stocks are just one of many ways to fund an early retirement!

Like most areas of life, investing is not something you have to do perfectly in order to succeed – even socially responsible investing. If you apply the 80/20 rule to get the big picture right, you have probably found the Sweet Spot and you can move on to the next area of life to optimize.

In the Comments: What is your own investment strategy? Have you thought at all about this ESG / SRI stuff? Did this article bring anything new to the table?

from Finance https://www.mrmoneymustache.com/2020/08/22/socially-responsible-investing/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

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jujutoe-blog · 5 years

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Part 7: In-Class Blog Questions B

Zoos

Edmonton Storyland Valley Zoo in Edmonton. Picture from https://www.edmonton.ca/attractions_events/edmonton_valley_zoo/plan-your-visit.aspx

a. What role, if any, should zoos play in conservation/education?

I personally do not visit zoos. I am somewhat saddened that wild animals are essentially caged for the entertainment of humans. However, there are many animals that are endangered in which zoos can play an important role in conservation. Unfortunately, there are many issues such as limited space, lack of finances and proper care that make animal conservation in zoos difficult and mostly unfeasible. Wildlife animals, especially big mammals, simply do not thrive in small artificial environments.

Today in Environmental Science class we learned about stereotypic behaviour. Stereotypic behaviour is the repetitive actions that confined animals display presumably as symptoms of boredom and the need for stimulation. Stereotypic behaviour is a sign of poor psychological development (Philbin, 2019). Ideally, wild animals should be kept wild and there would not be any need for zoos neither for entertainment nor for conservation. Regrettably, natural habitats for wildlife to roam freely are quickly being destroyed. As for education, I am unsure if zoos actually provide much education. They seem to me to be structured more for people’s amusement.

In the end, the answer isn’t a simple yes or no on whether zoos should play some sort of role in conservation or education. There seems to be a host of human-created environmental issues that need to be addressed so animals can be healthy, free and wild. Having learned what I learned so far about environmental issues, zoos are no longer just some sort of magical place that I go to as a child. Zoos have come to represent a disturbing microcosm of the greater natural world. And perhaps zoos have also come to represent human being’s ineptitude in taking care of our fellow earthlings.

b. Is it ethical to keep animals in zoos? If so, what size/type of animal or zoo?

I believe that keeping animals in zoos is unethical. One can argue that confining a living and breathing sentient being is unethical. In a perfect world, I think that there would not be any need for zoos. I think protected national parks do a relatively good job with conservation. Perhaps, in the future zoos no longer would exist and we would simply visit national parks to see wild animals in their natural habitat.

c. Do you enjoy visiting zoos?

I have not visited a zoo since I was a young child. Like I said earlier, I do not enjoy seeing animals in such an unnatural state nor do I agree with the whole concept of zoos.

FOOD

a. Consider your food system: What do you like about it?

I like the convenience of going to a nearby grocery store and being able to choose and purchase a plethora of products. I also enjoy being able to choose produce from various parts of the world. I also like being able to do my grocery shopping anytime throughout the day any day of the week. As for eating out in restaurants, I like how there are many alternatives from fast food to various cuisines from around the world. I think that we are fortunate to live in Canada to have such abundance and options when it comes to food.

b. What do you dislike about it?

Some of the factors that I like about our food system here in Canada is also contributing to what I don’t like about it. The fact that I can choose almost any food product from almost anywhere in the world means that the environmental cost weighs heavy for the planet. This environmental cost includes pollution from transporting the products from vast distances and the degradation of the earth from mass agriculture for such products. Another issue with being able to have inexpensive foods from everywhere in the world is that local produce no longer becomes the primary choice.

Variety is generally something desireable, but in the grocery store, there seems to be also a great variety of sugary junk lacking much in nutrition. Oddly, this junk is less expensive than the fresh fruits and vegetables. I would think that having healthy foods being more expensive is a deterrent for people wanting to consume healthier produce.

Another aspect of the food system that I don’t like is how the Canadian diet disproportionately consists of meat. From an environmental perspective, animal agriculture has been shown to contribute greatly to greenhouse gas emissions and also the degradation of much of the world’s pristine rainforests.

OCEANS

a. What are your primary concerns about the oceans?

One concern is the continual non-stop pollution of oceans. What I recall from Environmental Science 1000 class, there is a massive area in the pacific ocean where human-created garbage simply circulates as if in some giant whirlpool. Garbage in the oceans in general disrupts marine habitats and inadvertently causes the countless deaths of sea creatures.

Another concern is overfishing. With a growing global population and growing appetites I feel that saving all the fish from possibly going extinct may be an impossible cause. But perhaps with wider education about the peril of the oceans, there still might be some hope.

A final concern is the acidification of the oceans. Ocean acidification is caused by the increase in atmospheric carbon dioxide. The oceans act as a carbon dioxide sink. The oceans absorb the excess carbon dioxide which in turn makes the oceans become more acidic. The two most common contributors to excess carbon dioxide are the burning of fossil fuels and the burning of forests (Van Dien & Stone, 2018).

b. What, if anything, do you plan to do about it?

I try my best to reduce my waste especially with the use of plastic. Admittedly, this is at times quite difficult. Plastic is everywhere. For example, I eat something that came in a container. If I can’t reuse or recycle that container, it has to be thrown away.

I already do not eat fish. I try when appropriate to educate what little I know to other people about overfishing and about sustainable fishing.

Lastly, I do not own a car and drive only once in a while when necessary. Driving has been shown to be a significant contributor to atmospheric carbon dioxide. My main forms of transportation are walking, cycling, and bussing. I also try my best to have conversations with people about environmental issues when they are willing. I think that talking to people is a good way to spread knowledge about environmental issues. Not only will the other person possibly learn something and perhaps give pause to how they themselves can help, but I can also possibly learn about the other person and why they make the choices that they make.

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carsmedd · 6 years

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2019 Chevrolet Spark Affordable when it's tempting

The 2019 Chevrolet Spark price starting from $ 9,995 (before transportation and preparation costs), the 2019 Chevrolet Spark is officially the cheapest new car on the market. It's enticing, considering the modernity of this small car compared to its obsolete competitors. But beware of the list of options, because it will inflate the price of your Spark to a ridiculous level. When Koreans get involved With us since 2013, redesigned for 2016 and updated for the 2019 model year, the Spark competes mainly against the Nissan Micra , the Fiat 500 , and the Mitsubishi Mirage in the category of city cars , a segment that decreases with consumers North Americans because of the popularity of SUVs. Why does GM persist with its small subcompact after removing almost all cars from its lineup?

2019 Chevrolet Spark Affordable when it's tempting

The reason is simple: the 2019 Chevrolet Spark is not an American car, but Korean, designed and assembled by the GM Korea division, in the suburbs of Seoul. Do you remember Daewoo, the South Korean brand that did not last long in the early 2000s? She never left us, actually. She's simply hiding behind a Chevrolet crest since all this time! This alliance not only allows the Spark to continue to exist for overseas markets where subcompacts are still in vogue, but also to take advantage of the recent technical know-how of Koreans in small cars. When compared to a Micra or a Mirage, the Spark is by far the most sophisticated city car of the trio. The Chevrolet Spark engine The changes for 2019 are minimal, but substantial. Design side, it remains relatively unchanged, except for the addition of a new grille. Under the hood, the 1.4-liter four-cylinder still produces 98 horsepower. This engine can always be paired with either a five-speed manual gearbox or a continuously variable automatic (CVT). The other novelty is the addition of an emergency braking system in the event of an imminent collision, a first in this segment, offered as an option for better-equipped versions. The Spark remains the only city car to come standard with ten airbags, a seven-inch touch screen, a Wi-Fi (subscription) and an Android Auto / Apple CarPlay integration. To say that a Rolls-Royce Cullinan of over $ 400,000 is not even compatible with Apple CarPlay ... That's his strength, at Spark: the windfall. But only when it suits him, because our trial version, equipped with a CVT box, was stocked with all the options offered by the catalog, amounting to a retail price of more than $ 22,885. A nonsense.

2019 Chevrolet Spark Affordable when it's tempting

Neither expensive nor painful The good news is that even if you stick to the basic declination, the Chevrolet Spark is by no means laborious to drive. Although not as fast or as sporty as a Micra, it is surprisingly stable and quiet at high speed, with no problem tracking traffic, even with four passengers on board. In addition, its interior is well assembled, with quality materials more than acceptable and a beautiful design given the price required. However, we criticize its seats for being too hard, granting very little support for larger passengers. The small engine, unsurprisingly, offers no acceleration and no intoxicating sound, but thanks to the fact that it develops its torque of 94 lb-ft at low revs, it remains strong and well equipped for daily tasks. It is useless to make it scream up to its limiter to advance the car, which allows the Chevy Spark to triumph over its competitors in terms of refinement.

2019 Chevrolet Spark Affordable when it's tempting

The CVT box works well but sometimes hesitates before reacting. It does a lot of good work by maximizing the available power range. However, we recommend that you opt for the manual gearbox because it will be easier and more enjoyable to use everything the Chevy Spark has in the belly. We were also satisfied with the gas consumption of this microbagnole. In recent years, advances in technology have meant that larger size vehicles - such as compact, mid-size, and some SUVs - display fuel consumption data almost identical to that of subcompacts. On our side, in winter, mixed city / highway driving, our Spark 2019 stood below 7 L / 100 km, which is excellent even for the niche. And let's not forget the fuel that only cost us $ 30! The little girl in a world of giants What charmed us most about the Spark is its small size. Admittedly, its interior can be narrow for grown-ups, especially at the rear, and if you do not lower the seat, the trunk is narrow (314 liters). But as an urban car, this miniaturization gives the Spark maneuverability and ease of use out of the ordinary. It feels light, responsive, ready to pounce and extremely fun to drive in traffic at high speed. In a city like Montreal, the Spark is in its environment: easy to park and not at all cumbersome. In other words, if you care about your energy-efficient footprint and are not yet ready to start paying for an electric car, the Spark is a sensible ecological choice. It uses almost no gas, does not take up much space, and has one of the lowest greenhouse gas emissions in the industry And if it is only for a budget reason that it caught your eye, know that it is not a bad car so far. On the contrary, the Chevrolet Spark 2019 will remind you that a small car "not expensive", it is not only good for the wallet, but also for your state of mind.

2019 Chevrolet Spark Affordable when it's tempting

Chevrolet Spark Evaluation Sheet Trial version -LT (auto) Price range -nd Chevrolet Spark price under review -$ 19,550 Basic warranty -3 years / 60,000 km Consumption (city / road / observed) -7.8 / 6.2 / 6.8 L / 100km options -nd Competitive models -BMW i3 , Fiat 500 , Mitsubishi i-MiEV , Mitsubishi Mirage , Nissan Micra , smart Fortwo Strong points -Affordable base price -Attractive standard equipment -Amazingly refined Weak points -Get expensive once well equipped -Small chest -Uncomfortable seats for tall people Consumption -Throughout our test, in winter, we recorded an average consumption of 6.8 L / 100 km. Comfort -The cabin of the Spark can accommodate four adults, but we do not recommend it for long journeys, because its seats are hard and deprived of lumbar support. performances -We do not buy a Spark to go run on the weekend! Multimedia system -Chevrolet MyLink is one of the best systems in the industry because of its simplicity and ergonomics. Comes with a Wi-Fi terminal, compatible with Android Auto and Apple CarPlay. Driving approval -Although it is not super fast, the Spark is a pleasant little car to drive, especially in the city. General appreciation -With such a low base price, attractive standard features and a level of sophistication superior to its rivals, it's hard to argue against this charming city-dweller. -SEE ALSO:

Toyota RAV4 2019 strongly hybrid

Porsche 911 Carrera 4S Cabriolet a real supercar

Volkswagen T-Roc R 2019 - Cars Medd

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#Car Reviews

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damonbation · 4 years

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Socially Responsible Investing: Is It Also More Profitable?

Since the Dawn of Mustachianism in 2011, the same question has come up over and over again:

“MMM, I see your point that index fund investing is the best option. But when you buy the index, you’re getting oil companies, factory farm slaughterhouses and a million other dirty stories.

How can I get the benefits of investing for early retirement without contributing to the decline of humanity?”

And all of this has led to the exploding new field of Socially Responsible Investing (SRI), and a growing array of new ways to do it.

This leads us naturally to the question:

What can I do with my money to help fix the world? And even better, is there a way I can make money in the process of fixing it?

The answer is a good, solid “Probably.”

So anyway, the first thing to understand with SRI is, “what problem am I trying to solve?”

The answer is, “You are trying to make your investing (especially index fund investing) have a better impact on the world.”

When you do this, you are buying a stake in 3500 companies at once(!), which is both impressive and overwhelming. How do you even know what you are holding?

Well, this is all public information, and easily available with a quick Google search. For example, here’s a list of the top 90 holdings in VTI (click for larger):

Top 90 holdings in Vanguard’s VTI Exchange Traded Fund

And within this list, you will see some of the usual suspects: Exxon and Chevron (oil), Philip Morris (tobacco), Raytheon and Lockheed (bombs), and so on.

ESG stands for “Environmental, Social and Governance”, and in practice it just means “We have tried to avoid some of the shittier companies according to some fairly simple rules.”

And the result is this:

Vanguard’s ESGV Exchange traded fund (ETF) – top 90 holdings

But let’s look at the biggest differences between the normal index fund versus the social version.

Main differences between VTI and ESGV (source: etfrc)

But What About The Performance?

Traditional index fund (VTI) vs Socially Responsible equivalent (ESGV)

As you can see, the performance has been similar but the ESG fund has done significantly better in the (admittedly short) time since it was introduced at Vanguard.

So What Should You Do? (and what I do myself)

My latest home-brewed ebike project – this one can reach 42MPH / 67km/hr!

Each one of these steps has provided a very high economic return, percentage-wise, but that still leaves a lot of money to account for, which brings us back to stock investing.

As someone who loves simplicity, I have done this:

Bought almost entirely VTI (or similar Vanguard funds) from 2000-2015

Switched the dividend re-investing of my old Vanguard VTI over to Vanguard ESGV, to avoid “wash sales” in making the most of Betterment’s tax loss harvesting feature.

Bought some shares of Berkshire Hathaway separately, and also make a few sentimental investments in local businesses, including the MMM HQ Coworking space.

But you could choose to be more hardcore in your ESG/SRI investing:

Buy your own basket of stocks based on the index, but with different weighting based on your own values

Spend more money on other things that generate or save money (a bigger solar array on your house, better insulation, electric car, an ebike to reduce car trips, etc.)

In the Comments: What is your own investment strategy? Have you thought at all about this ESG / SRI stuff? Did this article bring anything new to the table?

from Money 101 https://www.mrmoneymustache.com/2020/08/22/socially-responsible-investing/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

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theeurekaproject · 5 years

Text

Orestes et Electra

"She's kinda cute." Ace said. "The girl, I mean."

Lyra stood in the middle of the spaceport, gazing through the skylight. Her black clothes stood out like a sore thumb in the utilitarian gray of the place, and passing Ministratora castes gave her a wide berth, but she didn't seem to care much. She just looked up through the glass with a rapturous expression, like she was staring at heaven itself instead of the thick, polluted clouds that obscured the sun.

"I guess," T shrugged. "Not really my type.” He wasn’t lying—Lyra was not his type—but she seemed to have an intoxicating quality about her anyway, something T didn’t want to share with Ace.

"Her hair is pretty,” Ace said.

"You say that about every girl you meet.”

"Says the guy who like the green chick from the new Ultores movie," Ace countered.

"Because she's a badass," TB-2215 said. "Besides, she's not even from Ultores, she's from Custodes de Galaxia-"

"And the princess from Stella Bella-"

"She's a badass, too. And talk about pretty hair-"

"Talk about out of your league. And you tell me Acidalia is too classy for me."

"See," T said, "the main difference between crushing on fictional characters and crushing on the Imperatrix is that the fictional characters don't exist."

"'Fictional characters don't exist' isn't what you said when you were crying at Infinitum Bellum," Ace said.

"I did not cry." (Admittedly, he had cried. But everyone in the spaceport did not need to be made aware of this, and besides, it didn't really matter.)

"I was there. You can't hide from me," he replied. "I think you're the only person who could shoot down six people, and then start hysterically sobbing because they killed off-"

"Hey, what's Lyra doing?" he asked loudly, interrupting Ace. "Go talk to her if you think she's so cute. Go on, leave me alone."

"I would, but..." he said slowly, "I mean, they're already looking at her enough. Aren't we supposed to be being inconspicuous?"

"Just go." T lightly nudged him. "Don't be obnoxious. She's supposed to be your pregnant girlfriend, isn't she? Go."

"You're all business lately," he said. "What's up with you?"

T eyed him. "You know exactly what's up. I'm not talking about this further. Not here."

"Right, right," Ace sighed. In a quieter tone, he added, "She'll be okay, you know."

"No, I don't," T retorted. "It's not a guarantee."

"I've seen that woman with a blaster. She shot down twelve people in about five seconds while wearing a tiara of flowers. If there's one person on the planet who can stay alive, it's-"

"Keep your voice down. And not even the most skilled marksman could survive a twenty-person ambush with no backup."

"Andromeda will send backup," Ace said.

T sighed. "But how long will it take? Cassandra’s useless.”

"I don't know. I wouldn't stress about it," he replied. "Things like this have happened before. Remember last week?"

"Yeah," T said, "but Cassiopeia is different. She's an idiot. I think her IQ is the same as the kitten we snuck onto the ship when we were, what, 10? Her plans aren't so much 'incoherent' as 'nonexistent.' You saw what she did— just grabbed-"

He bit his tongue suddenly. Talking about this here was a bad idea. He didn't mention his sisters' names. Cassiopeia on its own was common enough that he could have been referring to any girl, but if he brought up the Imperials, they'd all know exactly who he was talking about—and it was never a good idea to clue in everyone else to private matters.

¨My point is,"he said softly, "my mother is a lot smarter, and a lot more powerful, than Cassiopeia ever was."

At that moment, he heard his sister's name, broadcast in a cool, feminine voice, and he jumped six inches.

"Relax," Ace said. "They're talking about Mars."

He was right: they were just announcing the 1815 flights to Acidalia, Utopia, and Arcadia Planitia—the place she was named after, not the Imperatrix. He checked their tickets—1830. They were scheduled to board in fifteen minutes.

"We better get going," he said. He wondered, briefly, what David Seren himself had thought when he left the planet sixteen years ago—except he actually had a baby with him. Had he expected that he wouldn't return to his home for the next decade and a half? Had he been nervous?

T decided not to think about it too much. He had been reluctant about this whole ridiculous thing in the first place, and anxious about what it would mean to leave Eleutheria unsure of when he was coming back. How long would it take for his squadron to notice he was missing? What if they went searching for him? What if they thought something bad had happened to them both?

He had grown up with these men. They were more brothers than anything else. They'd spent their whole childhood play-fighting, having movie nights, and talking about girls in between school and battle. They were the lucky ones—the sons of the elite, the TB strategists and the AX tech specialists, both immunes, neither concerned whatsoever about death. Maybe they should have been.

He remembered staying up late and listening to stories about distant worlds with the older boys who seemed like they knew the whole galaxy; they'd tell tales of planets with temperatures so low liquid tetraoxygen sloshed around in the seas and burned all the living things it touched, places so rich in carbon and so high in pressure it snowed solid diamonds, the gas giant that moved so fast it rained molten glass sideways. His favorite was the tidally locked planet, with one side trapped in eternal night, and the other so blisteringly hot it was an ocean of lava where the clouds were made of rubies and sapphires. He was always so jealous of the men who actually got to see these strange, alien worlds, and the creatures—or the people, even—who lived on them.

More than once, one of the lower ranking men, someone who actually got to experience the rest of the galaxy, would go missing. They might return a few days later, wide-eyed and skittish; other times they'd simply vanish. Those stories were more fables to be told around the faux-campfires of lights the blasters made when they were charging—tales of ancient alien ruins, of beautiful women with green skin, of life beyond the two known sentient species in the galaxy. Life beyond the Mira.

T didn't think he'd ever really laid eyes on the people who called themselves the Mira, but the tales told about them ranged from hideous monsters to almost fae-like creatures. They were sparkly purple people, and then they were hideous, psychotic animals with no humanity left in their strange, gelatinous minds.

It was probably a little of both.

The propaganda portrayed them as savages, but propaganda always did that. The older men recalled tales of nights with beautiful alien women, but TB-2115 couldn't help but doubt that, too (especially since every eyewitness had described them as "cold," "wet," and "icy to the touch" regardless of their perspective.) The Mira were an enigma.

He always thought they were interesting. The researchers—the xenolinguists, the biological weapons research squad, the historians—were always more appealing to him than the fighters he was supposed to idolize. His specialty—his purpose—was always strategy, military logic. If we put those soldiers there, how many people could die? If we launched the pox now, how many would it infect? He played games of war like they played games of chess—the TB units were the grandmasters, the rest of the army the pawns, Eleutheria the king they protected. But T always found chess boring.

One could only talk so often about endless death and destruction before it got to their head. He may have been a lucky one when it came to his chances of death and dismemberment—virtually nonexistent—but the subject matter of his education was depressing. Playing with people's lives, deciding whether it was worth it to save the people you loved, weighing probabilities, taking the other path because one less soldier might die, putting other people through hell for a benefit so small it was hardy noticed—it wasn't worth the reduced chance of a terrible fate. Especially not when the hypothetical king was an unstable, broken mess of a country who couldn't move one square because every shift required intense thought and argument and the tension was building so thick that the piece would shatter into shards of broken porcelain regardless of what the rest of the board did.

Even here, at the spaceport, people were whispering. It was Lyra—a Cantator in the middle of a nice spaceport?—but something else, too. It was odd, venturing out into regular, civilian life—this talk would not have been tolerated in the barracks. Yet here everyone was, muttering. This planet was as tense as it could get. They were on a dangerous precipice, hovering over the edge of the void, about to fall.

"Hey, T," someone said, breaking him out of his reverie. "Time to go."

"Right," he said thickly. "Yeah."

"This is amazing," Lyra sighed. "I mean, stars, look at this!" She pulled a piece of her bubblegum-pink hair out of the neat braid she'd been trying to wrestle it into, seemingly forgetting about tidiness entirely. "Eleutheria's so big. And it's pretty. I guess that sounds stupid—that sounds stupid, doesn't it?—but when you only ever see the very bottom of the heap you don't have the full picture. The only parts I've ever seen of this world are the little tiny alleys in downtown Appalachia, and I never thought once about leaving, but..." Her voice trailed off. She continued to excitedly fidget, ignoring the stares she was receiving.

"At least she's excited," T muttered.

"Maybe it'll be a learning experience?" Ace suggested tentatively.

T glared at him and handed him a ticket. Lyra took her own, holding it so tight it crinkled and cracked slightly. A voice announced the presence of the 1830 Acidalian flight and she practically jumped.

They boarded slowly, cramming into the cheap seats while the foreign dignitaries in creamy off-while stepped delicately to the windowed deck. T already hated this. It smelled like spent fuel and stale sweat, and the outside seemed infinitely better. Mars, the little red dot in the distant sky, was very far away.

His meta vibrated in his pocket. Annoyed, he picked it up and glared at the little glowing name: Diana. His codename for Artemis. He scrambled to answer it, dropping his own visor on the way; two Suffragium giggled at him. Momentarily, he thought, If you knew who I was....

"Hello?" he asked, his voice breaking awkwardly.

"T?" she asked. “What’s up with Acidalia?”

He choked on his own saliva. "What?"

“She’s not picking up her meta.”

A chill ran down T’s spine. Acidalia always answered her metadit.

"I'm in the KC Interplanetary spaceport," he said. "That's close to the palace."

"Have you taken off yet?"

"I think we're about to. I'm getting off."

Ace and Lyra looked at each other, confused. "What?" Lyra asked. "Are you okay? Spacesick already? I mean, I heard that could happen-"

He shook his head. "Ace, get her off-planet. I have to go."

"What's she saying?" Ace asked. Now everyone in the section was staring at them—as if two soldiers and a Cantator weren't suspicious enough already.

"Not here," T muttered. "Talk to you later." He stood abruptly, putting his visor back on and pushing past the people in front of him. A Scientia glared at him for a second before he whipped out his stunner pistol and waved it in front of his face.

"TB sector soldier here. I'm on military business. Get out of the way."

She jumped aside, and suddenly the aisle was clear. The girls who had been laughing at him before looked at each other and shrunk back, smoothing their hair and settling down where he couldn't see them. He jumped over someone's turned-over backpack and raced past the upper decks.

"I know you!" said a girl in silver-white. She was young, maybe twelve or thirteen.

"Really?" he asked, not listening much. He scouted around a corner, drawing his gun. If someone caught on to where he was going—someone with the Nova—it would be less than ideal.

"I saw you at the coronation," she said, like it was obvious. "You were the one who talked with the Imperatrix." Then, in a deep whisper, she added, "do you like her? Aleskynn says you like her."

"Aleskynn doesn't know what she's on about," he replied. "That's not true." He pulled his mask down. One person had already recognized him; there were sure to be more.

"I think it would have been romantic," she sighed. "Forbidden love, and all..."

T cringed, wanting more than anything to mention their genetic relationship. "No thanks. Hey, kid, where's your mother?"

"Don't call me kid," she demanded, standing up to a height of a full 140 centimetrons. "I'm the daughter of a Negotia. You're just a standard soldier."

"You're going to get yourself killed," he snapped. "Get back up on deck and hide, you hear me? Now."

"What?" Her bright pink eyes turned a deep, dark purple. It was the latest trend—color-changing eyes. It looked just as fake and stupid on this girl as it did on Aleskynn when she went through her rebellious phase; TB-2115 had a picture of her with bright orange hair and sea-foam green eyes in his wallet.

"You heard me."

She backed away slightly before scampering up the pretty marble steps—so far apart from the standard gray steel the rest of the planet had to use—and glanced back at him.

"Go," he called. "Get out."

She vanished behind a featureless pillar of stone.

He darted around the corner, sticking close to the wall before bursting out of the ship's doors. Three Raedae in identical uniforms jumped backwards at the sight of him.

"Which one of you is in charge?" he demanded. Two of them glanced at their comrade nervously.

"Me," she said softly. "Hi."

"Hi," he replied, far louder. "Get this ship off the ground immediately. Don't ask questions, just go." He flashed his visor at her, identifying himself as a high-ranking soldier. The Raeda didn't respond, signaling something to her comrades. All together, their steps strangely in line with one another, they surrounded the ship and signaled it for takeoff. He knew better than to stick around.

At least Ace and the Cantator would be safe for now. They couldn't exactly track them down once they were thousands of miles away on Mars, could they? Well, they probably could—it just wouldn't be worth the effort.

T sprinted off the runway and out of the spaceport, to the astonished looks of everyone around him. People fell out of his path once they realized who he was. They'd surely be talking about it later, but that didn't matter now.

The planet outside was a glowing array of dazzling blue-on-black lights. It was a pretty urban area, covered in countless art projects he could all recognize by name; the capitol city of Eleutheria was all beautiful neoclassicism mixed with neon. It seemed like it would never work, but it was stunning—everything from the ultraviolet lights to the bioluminescent flowers. Acidalia's touch was everywhere.

Pictures of his sister ran through his mind at the speed of sound, tripping over one another so quickly they came in flashes and vanished into thin air again. Braiding her dark hair on her balcony at night when they weren't supposed to be there, gossiping about the upper-class idiots she paraded around with, telling extravagant and exaggerated stories of places neither of them had any business being.

What would they do to her?

#on the edge of eureka #eurekaproject #pov T #Ace (Character)#T #TB-2115 #Lyra #Artemis

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dazzledbybooks · 5 years

Quote

Today we have the release blitz for Sarah Robinson’s WYLDE FIRE! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy today! Title: Wylde Fire Author: Sarah Robinson Genre: Contemporary Romance About Wylde Fire: Sam Wylde is ready to prove he’s more than just the privileged son of a wealthy Southern dynasty. Wyldefire Whiskey is poised to take Nashville by storm—and with any luck, overshadow the scandal of his cheating ex-girlfriend marrying his brother. The only problem? This gruff country boy has no idea how to throw a launch party that will get people talking. The answer to everything might just be Holly Glen. A party wrapped up in one tiny woman, Holly is tattooed, tempting, and exactly the event planner Sam needs to liven up his brand—and his life. He can give her what she needs, too. All it will take is a ring on her finger. Falling in real love with his fake wife was not part of the plan—but one shot of Holly isn’t going to be enough. Get Your Copy Today: Amazon US | Amazon AU | Amazon CA | Amazon UK | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Goodreads [caption id="attachment_48556" align="aligncenter" width="775"] Metall hip flask with cup on wooden backdrop[/caption] Exclusive Excerpt: "You cannot do this to me, Cassie," Sam Wylde argued over the speakerphone attached to his truck's dashboard. He cringed as his Southern drawl came out a little thicker than usual. Frustration did that to him, and right now it was taking everything in him to not start cussing. With a deft twist of his wrist, he steered his truck into the parking lot next to Town Hall, cutting off another car with a halfhearted wave of acknowledgement. He needed to pick up several permits before the city offices closed, leaving no room for pleasantries. Damn, for a Saturday, the lot sure is packed. He sighed and forced his attention back to the phone call. "We've got a few months until the launch of the entire brand. Everything I've done the last two years is riding on this." "I'm really sorry," Cassie, his event planner, said from the other end of the phone. Or former event planner, apparently. "But I can't be in two places at once, and neither can my influencers and vendors. We're booked for that day now." Teetering on the brink of exploding, Sam breathed in slowly. "But. You. Signed. With. Us. First." He ground the words out slow and steady. "Technically, I haven't signed an actual contract. I was helping you out as a favor to Noah," Cassie informed him. "And where I go…so do my connections." Sam needed no reminders that his cousin was a major pain in his ass. There was no doubt in his mind Cassie quitting on the launch was directly related to Noah Wylde breaking things off romantically between the two of them yesterday. Yes, yesterday. Sam was pretty out of touch with the small-town gossip vine, but even he'd heard about the messy, public break up last night. Bringing his cousin into the business had been at the not-so-subtle suggestion of his father and uncle, and Sam had never regretted acquiescing to their demands more. Despite his frustrations with his cousin, Wyldefire Whiskey was still Sam's pride and joy. He and his cousin, along with a silent partner, Caleb Daughtry, had built their own distillery from the ground up and begun crafting their own brand of Tennessee whiskey. The first batch was being bottled now, and, in a few months, they'd be on liquor store shelves nationwide. He'd hired Cassie to plan their giant grand opening launch party at a swanky hotel in Nashville, only a short distance from the distillery—and Sam's hometown—in River Ridge, Tennessee. It was the last step in a massive public relations campaign for the entire brand. "There's no one else in town who does events this large, Cassie. Especially last minute." He hated begging, but right now, he had no other choice. Cassie was an extremely well-connected socialite across the South who had come highly recommended by his PR company. He'd already put thousands of dollars into the brand's publicity, and a launch party filled with celebrities and social influencers she'd bring was supposed to be the final piece they needed to make their whiskey a household name. "Like I said, I'm sorry," Cassie continued, zero remorse in her tone. "I'll make sure you get your check back on Monday. Have a great weekend!" The line went dead and Sam slammed his foot against the brake, coming to a dead stop in the middle of the parking lot. His hands were clenched so tightly around the wheel, there was a good chance he'd snap it in half. "Sonofabitch!" His anger bubbled over, exploding at no one in particular. Disconnecting the call, he placed his foot back on the gas and turned into the next aisle of cars to look for a spot. Pulling his truck past the open spot just enough to give him room to reverse, he shifted gears and anchored his arm behind the passenger seat, looking out the rear window. A little blue coupe turned into the spot seconds before he could. So quick, he almost missed it entirely. Are you kidding me? Sam shifted into park right in the middle of the aisle. Shoving the door open, he hopped down from the cab and stomped around the bed of his truck toward the coupe. "Hey!" he shouted at the driver, throwing his hands up in the air. "What the hell was that? You stole my spot!" Sam’s next words jammed in his throat, startled for a moment when the perpetrator, a tall, slender woman with fiery hair, climbed out of the driver's seat as he approached. As angry as he was, he was first and foremost, a hot-blooded, all-American man. It was impossible not to notice her curvy figure as she crossed her arms over her chest, or the way the sun, just beginning to drift lower in the late afternoon, illuminated the varying crimson hues in her scarlet hair. She leveled intensely silver eyes at him. Sam pushed away the distracting thoughts, trying to manage his irritation—and growing arousal. "Darlin, you parked in my spot." He tried for the nicest tone he could muster, but it still came out sounding terse. "Looks like I did." Molten eyes, somehow both angry and intoxicating, stared back at him, unrelenting. She's admitting it? His anger dissipated slightly, which he realized was a bit odd since the admission should have infuriated him. Something about her blatant honesty was disarming and…refreshing? Or maybe it was those soft pink lips that smirked up at the corners, that had him feeling…forgiving. "Excuse me?" The tiniest flash of guilt crossed her expression, but she masked it quickly, firming her jaw and pushing back her shoulders. The seductive smirk returned. "I almost crashed when you cut me off pulling into the lot. Maybe if you were paying a little more attention, rather than yelling at your dashboard, you wouldn't have nearly killed me, and you wouldn't have lost your spot. Really, I'm doing you a favor. You can take a few laps around this pretty parking lot and find your inner Zen." His mouth twitched, but he held tight, refusing to let the smile come. "So, you're…what? The karmic delivery man?" "Woman, actually, but…yeah. I guess today I am." A black tank top hugged her gentle curves and showed off one arm full of colorful tattoos as she reached into the trunk of her car and pulled out a large cardboard box then set it on the asphalt. "Someone needs to be." Her last words were quieter, as if to herself, but he heard them nonetheless. He noted the strain and tightness in her tone, and found himself wondering what the story was behind it. But then she bent down. Every coherent thought fled his brain as Sam paused to admire her blue jeans molded to a firm round ass. Damn. It'd been too long. Starting a business and having his heart broken all at the same time will do that to a man. Forcing his eyes away, Sam glanced back at his truck, resigning himself to finding another place to park. He didn't have the time to fight with this woman who was making his blood heat, in more ways than one. Plus, admittedly, he had cut her off and not even given it a second thought. She kept her back to him, continuing to unload boxes from the trunk of her car. "Sorry about cutting you off," Sam grumbled, though he knew she could still hear him. He didn't like apologies. He rarely gave them, but he felt caught off guard by her and didn't like it. "I'll let you have the spot this time." She paused slightly while he spoke, but didn't look back at him. "Let me?" When she did whirl around, her hands were straight down and fists balled. "Samuel. Jed. Wylde. You didn't let me do anything. I took that spot to teach you a lesson in manners—something you're sorely lacking." Sam raised a brow, a small smile on his lips despite the tightness in his chest. She knows me? Shit. Was she a one-night stand he'd forgotten? Another one of Noah's conquests with a vendetta for the Wylde boys now? He racked his brain, sweating when he couldn't place her. "Honestly, I don't know why I even bothered. You haven't changed one bit." Hands on her hips now, she was shaking her head in that same disapproving manner he'd gotten most of his life. He was familiar with disappointing women, and it was one of the many reasons why he kept most of his relationships to only a night or two. Between the sheets, he never left a woman less than completely satisfied. It was his life outside the bedroom that seemed to be the problem. Sam let his eyes rake over her body—from her cowboy boots to her bright pink lips. How could he have forgotten those lips? "We've met before?" She exhaled sharply, obviously annoyed. "High school." About the Author: Aside from being a Top 10 Barnes & Noble and Amazon Bestseller, Sarah Robinson is a native of the Washington, DC area and has both her Bachelors and Masters Degrees in criminal psychology. She works as a counselor by day and romance novelist by night. She owns a small zoo of furry pets and is actively involved in volunteering in her community. Subscribe to her newsletter at www.subscribepage.com/sarahrobinsonnewsletter Connect with Sarah: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Google+ | Pinterest | Tumblr | Instagram Enter Sarah’S Giveaway: a Rafflecopter giveaway

http://www.dazzledbybooks.com/2019/09/wylde-fire-release-blitz.html

#SEO #Local SEO training

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thesassybooskter · 5 years

Text

WYLDE FIRE by Sarah Robinson: Release Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway

NOW AVAILABLE

Sam Wylde is ready to prove he’s more than just the privileged son of a wealthy Southern dynasty.

Wyldefire Whiskey is poised to take Nashville by storm—and with any luck, overshadow the scandal of his cheating ex-girlfriend marrying his brother. The only problem? This gruff country boy has no idea how to throw a launch party that will get people talking.

The answer to everything might just be Holly Glen. A party wrapped up in one tiny woman, Holly is tattooed, tempting, and exactly the event planner Sam needs to liven up his brand—and his life. He can give her what she needs, too.

All it will take is a ring on her finger.

Falling in real love with his fake wife was not part of the plan—but one shot of Holly isn’t going to be enough.

Buy Online: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | Apple Books

Add to Goodreads

Excerpt

“You cannot do this to me, Cassie,” Sam Wylde argued over the speakerphone attached to his truck’s dashboard. He cringed as his Southern drawl came out a little thicker than usual. Frustration did that to him, and right now it was taking everything in him to not start cussing.

With a deft twist of his wrist, he steered his truck into the parking lot next to Town Hall, cutting off another car with a halfhearted wave of acknowledgement. He needed to pick up several permits before the city offices closed, leaving no room for pleasantries.

Damn, for a Saturday, the lot sure is packed.

He sighed and forced his attention back to the phone call. “We’ve got a few months until the launch of the entire brand. Everything I’ve done the last two years is riding on this.”

“I’m really sorry,” Cassie, his event planner, said from the other end of the phone. Or former event planner, apparently. “But I can’t be in two places at once, and neither can my influencers and vendors. We’re booked for that day now.”

Teetering on the brink of exploding, Sam breathed in slowly. “But. You. Signed. With. Us. First.” He ground the words out slow and steady.

“Technically, I haven’t signed an actual contract. I was helping you out as a favor to Noah,” Cassie informed him. “And where I go…so do my connections.”

Sam needed no reminders that his cousin was a major pain in his ass. There was no doubt in his mind Cassie quitting on the launch was directly related to Noah Wylde breaking things off romantically between the two of them yesterday. Yes, yesterday. Sam was pretty out of touch with the small-town gossip vine, but even he’d heard about the messy, public break up last night. Bringing his cousin into the business had been at the not-so-subtle suggestion of his father and uncle, and Sam had never regretted acquiescing to their demands more.

Despite his frustrations with his cousin, Wyldefire Whiskey was still Sam’s pride and joy. He and his cousin, along with a silent partner, Caleb Daughtry, had built their own distillery from the ground up and begun crafting their own brand of Tennessee whiskey. The first batch was being bottled now, and, in a few months, they’d be on liquor store shelves nationwide. He’d hired Cassie to plan their giant grand opening launch party at a swanky hotel in Nashville, only a short distance from the distillery—and Sam’s hometown—in River Ridge, Tennessee. It was the last step in a massive public relations campaign for the entire brand.

“There’s no one else in town who does events this large, Cassie. Especially last minute.” He hated begging, but right now, he had no other choice. Cassie was an extremely well-connected socialite across the South who had come highly recommended by his PR company. He’d already put thousands of dollars into the brand’s publicity, and a launch party filled with celebrities and social influencers she’d bring was supposed to be the final piece they needed to make their whiskey a household name.

“Like I said, I’m sorry,” Cassie continued, zero remorse in her tone. “I’ll make sure you get your check back on Monday. Have a great weekend!”

The line went dead and Sam slammed his foot against the brake, coming to a dead stop in the middle of the parking lot. His hands were clenched so tightly around the wheel, there was a good chance he’d snap it in half.

“Sonofabitch!” His anger bubbled over, exploding at no one in particular.

Disconnecting the call, he placed his foot back on the gas and turned into the next aisle of cars to look for a spot. Pulling his truck past the open spot just enough to give him room to reverse, he shifted gears and anchored his arm behind the passenger seat, looking out the rear window.

A little blue coupe turned into the spot seconds before he could. So quick, he almost missed it entirely. Are you kidding me?

Sam shifted into park right in the middle of the aisle. Shoving the door open, he hopped down from the cab and stomped around the bed of his truck toward the coupe.

“Hey!” he shouted at the driver, throwing his hands up in the air. “What the hell was that? You stole my spot!”

Sam’s next words jammed in his throat, startled for a moment when the perpetrator, a tall, slender woman with fiery hair, climbed out of the driver’s seat as he approached. As angry as he was, he was first and foremost, a hot-blooded, all-American man. It was impossible not to notice her curvy figure as she crossed her arms over her chest, or the way the sun, just beginning to drift lower in the late afternoon, illuminated the varying crimson hues in her scarlet hair. She leveled intensely silver eyes at him.

Sam pushed away the distracting thoughts, trying to manage his irritation—and growing arousal. “Darlin, you parked in my spot.” He tried for the nicest tone he could muster, but it still came out sounding terse.

“Looks like I did.” Molten eyes, somehow both angry and intoxicating, stared back at him, unrelenting.

She’s admitting it? His anger dissipated slightly, which he realized was a bit odd since the admission should have infuriated him. Something about her blatant honesty was disarming and…refreshing? Or maybe it was those soft pink lips that smirked up at the corners, that had him feeling…forgiving. “Excuse me?”

The tiniest flash of guilt crossed her expression, but she masked it quickly, firming her jaw and pushing back her shoulders. The seductive smirk returned. “I almost crashed when you cut me off pulling into the lot. Maybe if you were paying a little more attention, rather than yelling at your dashboard, you wouldn’t have nearly killed me, and you wouldn’t have lost your spot. Really, I’m doing you a favor. You can take a few laps around this pretty parking lot and find your inner Zen.”

His mouth twitched, but he held tight, refusing to let the smile come. “So, you’re…what? The karmic delivery man?”

“Woman, actually, but…yeah. I guess today I am.” A black tank top hugged her gentle curves and showed off one arm full of colorful tattoos as she reached into the trunk of her car and pulled out a large cardboard box then set it on the asphalt. “Someone needs to be.”

Her last words were quieter, as if to herself, but he heard them nonetheless. He noted the strain and tightness in her tone, and found himself wondering what the story was behind it.

But then she bent down. Every coherent thought fled his brain as Sam paused to admire her blue jeans molded to a firm round ass. Damn. It’d been too long. Starting a business and having his heart broken all at the same time will do that to a man.

Forcing his eyes away, Sam glanced back at his truck, resigning himself to finding another place to park. He didn’t have the time to fight with this woman who was making his blood heat, in more ways than one. Plus, admittedly, he had cut her off and not even given it a second thought.

She kept her back to him, continuing to unload boxes from the trunk of her car.

“Sorry about cutting you off,” Sam grumbled, though he knew she could still hear him. He didn’t like apologies. He rarely gave them, but he felt caught off guard by her and didn’t like it. “I’ll let you have the spot this time.”

She paused slightly while he spoke, but didn’t look back at him. “Let me?” When she did whirl around, her hands were straight down and fists balled. “Samuel. Jed. Wylde. You didn’t let me do anything. I took that spot to teach you a lesson in manners—something you’re sorely lacking.”

Sam raised a brow, a small smile on his lips despite the tightness in his chest. She knows me? Shit. Was she a one-night stand he’d forgotten? Another one of Noah’s conquests with a vendetta for the Wylde boys now? He racked his brain, sweating when he couldn’t place her.

“Honestly, I don’t know why I even bothered. You haven’t changed one bit.” Hands on her hips now, she was shaking her head in that same disapproving manner he’d gotten most of his life. He was familiar with disappointing women, and it was one of the many reasons why he kept most of his relationships to only a night or two.

Between the sheets, he never left a woman less than completely satisfied. It was his life outside the bedroom that seemed to be the problem.

Sam let his eyes rake over her body—from her cowboy boots to her bright pink lips. How could he have forgotten those lips? “We’ve met before?”

She exhaled sharply, obviously annoyed. “High school.”

a Rafflecopter giveaway

About Sarah Robinson

Sarah Robinson is a native of the Washington, DC area and has both her Bachelors and Masters Degrees in criminal psychology. She works as a counselor by day and romance novelist by night. She owns a small zoo of furry pets and is actively involved in volunteering in her community.

Website | Twitter | Goodreads

WYLDE FIRE by Sarah Robinson: Release Blitz, Excerpt & Giveaway was originally published on The Sassy Bookster

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mikemortgage · 6 years

Text

LNG Canada, new trade deal show country is open for business, but they’re no help to Trans Mountain

Royal Dutch Shell Plc’s commitment to invest in the largest private-sector project in Canada’s history and a new trade deal with the U.S. and Mexico show the country is open for business again.

But neither are likely to help Trans Mountain, the troubled oil pipeline project that has epitomized the country’s inability to get big projects done and for which Prime Minister Justin Trudeau needs to find a buyer if it’s ever to get it built.

“The comparisons between Trans Mountain and LNG Canada are apples and oranges,” British Columbia premier John Horgan said in an interview after the gas project’s signing ceremony with Trudeau in Vancouver Tuesday.

Ottawa won’t appeal Trans Mountain court decision; renews Indigenous talks

‘First of many’: $40B LNG Canada signals revival of mega projects

Shell, partners approve huge $40-billion LNG Canada project, sources say

Kinder Morgan Inc. sold the oil pipeline to the government for $4.5 billion after the U.S. energy giant said it faced “unquantifiable” political and regulatory risk. Trudeau’s plans to quickly find a buyer who would build the expansion project were derailed by a federal court ruling that quashed its permits. The bungle prompted cries that Canada had become uninvestable and resource projects undoable — quelled by the massive LNG commitment announced this week.

Shell and its four Asian partners signed off Tuesday on LNG Canada, a record $40 billion (US$31 billion) liquefied natural gas project that the fiery B.C. premier has been touting while simultaneously battling Trudeau’s government to thwart Trans Mountain which is critical to getting Canada’s landlocked bitumen in Alberta to B.C.’s coast for export.

“Trans Mountain is the real here-and-now situation that has everything to do with the problems of our country,” Rafi Tahmazian, a senior portfolio manager overseeing energy investments at Canoe Financial in Calgary, said in an interview with BNN Bloomberg TV. “The LNG Canada project is a beneficiary of how we used to do things.”

While Horgan bantered jovially with Trudeau as they each praised the other for finding common ground on LNG Canada there’s no indication they’ll find that on Trans Mountain.

B.C. Premier John Horgan and Prime Minister Justin Trudeau embrace and shake hands at the LNG Canada news conference in Vancouver.

For one, there’s the difference between the two fuels, says Horgan. LNG evaporates in a spill while diluted bitumen is messier and less predictable. It also comes down to what’s in it for British Columbia: 10,000 jobs created during construction of the LNG project versus a roughly $7 billion expenditure on a pipeline “to move an admittedly Alberta resource to tidewater and then to offshore markets,” says Horgan.

Indigenous Support

Gas for the new LNG terminal will come in part from northeast B.C. Meanwhile the inability to get Alberta oil out of the country has contributed to a discount of about $41 of Canadian to the U.S. oil.

But most importantly, in a province where indigenous groups have never formally ceded their ancestral lands to Canada, it comes down to aboriginal support, he says.

“Shell and LNG Canada were able to realize benefit agreements from wellhead to water line and Trans Mountain was not,” said Horgan. “I think that speaks for itself.”

The federal court’s decision to quash Trans Mountain’s approval asked in its ruling for additional indigenous consultation. Trudeau’s government has subsequently put off the search for a buyer and resolved to restart the approval process.

‘Meaningful Engagement’

“We’re not at the time where we think solicitation of a buyer is the appropriate next step,” Finance Minister Bill Morneau said Tuesday. “We need to acknowledge that doing things the right way is the only way to get it done, consulting with indigenous peoples so that there’s meaningful engagement.”

Canada may need to take a different public policy approach to bitumen compared with LNG, said James Moore, a former industry minister and now a senior adviser at law firm Dentons Canada LLP.

The LNG deal is “blueprint about cooperation and collaboration,” Moore said. “It’s desperately needed just on a global investor confidence basis to have these kinds of projects finally be approved.”

–With assistance from Josh Wingrove.

Bloomberg.com

from Financial Post https://ift.tt/2yexeme via IFTTT Blogger Mortgage Tumblr Mortgage Evernote Mortgage Wordpress Mortgage href="https://www.diigo.com/user/gelsi11">Diigo Mortgage

#IFTTT #Financial Post

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rhetoricandlogic · 7 years

Photo

Unplanned Parenthood: Waking Gods by Sylvain Neuvel

Niall Alexander

Fri Apr 14, 2017 4:00pm

When she was a girl, Rose Franklin fell on a giant hand made of a metal mined, in the main, from meteorites. Determined to glean what it might mean, the government covered her discovery up and ordered its best and brightest minds to study this unlikely find. Where had the hand come from, how long had it been underground, and could you hit things with it? These were the interests of the military in particular, but decades later, they still couldn’t say—not until Rose, now a leading figure in her field, headed up a second investigation.

In short order, she found that the hand was but a bit of a monolithic machine—a mech, I mean—the body parts of which had been buried around the world. After several international incidents, the rest of the robot was recovered, leaving Rose and her team to assemble Themis. Before long a pair of pilots were walking in it, astonishing the population of the planet in the process. But… well, why? What was it all for?

If Sleeping Giants left with you questions, know that there are answers to be had in the surprising second installment of The Themis Files. They come thick and fast, in fact.

In a sense, Sylvain Neuvel’s entertaining debut related humanity’s coming of age, and now that we’re all grown up—now that we know we’re not alone in the universe—Waking Gods wants to see how we’ll behave in the face of an alien danger.

Light spoilers follow.

Thomas Henry Huxley […] was a scientist in the early days of modern biology. He said: “The known is finite, the unknown infinite; intellectually we stand on an islet in the midst of an illimitable ocean of inexplicability. Our business in every generation is to recover a little more land.” Almost a decade ago, when Themis was revealed to the world, we realised that ocean was a lot bigger than we thought, and what happened this morning in London has made our islet of certainty feel so small that we may wonder if we even have enough room to stand on.

What happened this morning in London was the mysterious appearance of a giant metal man, larger even than Rose’s robot, that the media comes to call Kronos. Evidently, this isn’t the alien invasion of our nightmares—indeed, Kronos doesn’t say or do anything for days—and yet, after squabbling over how to react to the mech’s admittedly threatening presence, the British Prime Minister bows to public pressure by ordering the army to impose a perimeter around Regent’s Park. With tanks.

This may have been a mistake.

A fatal mistake, I’m afraid, for Kronos razes much of London in response, including the Houses of Parliament. Themis, then, arrives in England’s capital city a little too late to save the day, but it does ultimately manage to destroy Kronos, killing its extraterrestrial pilots in the process. Unfortunately, there’s more where Kronos came from. Within weeks, thirteen of these killing machines have materialised in the planet’s most densely populated areas, where they start passing a gas that immediately kills millions.

With the odds stacked against humanity in this fashion, it falls once more to Rose to solve a problem no one else has a clue what to do about. But first, she has her own demons to defeat. Returning readers will recall her death and eventual resurrection in Sleeping Gods. It’d be an understatement to say she’s struggled with that curious plot twist since. She doesn’t remember dying, but she knows that it happened. To wit, neither we nor she can be sure she is who she believes herself to be. Beyond that there’s the fact that—in first finding that hand, then figuring out what to do with it—she may not have saved the human race but doomed it.

Rose’s burden may be bigger than that carried by her romantically entangled pilots, but Kara and Vincent’s issues are also of significance: initially only to Kara and Vincent, but eventually to the world as well. Though they remain very much in love after nearly ten years together, and they recognise that that’s no mean feat, their relationship is intensely tested when they discover they have a daughter—a daughter that may be the third person on the planet in a position to pilot Themis, humanity’s only hope against the alien invaders.

In this way, Waking Gods is concerned with questions of destiny and identity—appealing themes indeed, if only they had been introduced and developed incrementally. Alas, between the relative brevity of this book—it’s every inch a single-sitter—and the epistolary mode of storytelling that enriched the mystery of Sleeping Giants but seems something of a stranglehold in this straightforward sequel, neither notion is given the time to shine. So: softly does not do it. Instead, imagine a hammer to the head.

That blunt force was my most pressing problem with this novel, but I dare say your mileage may vary. Waking Gods is certainly bigger than its predecessor, but they’re such different beasts that it’d be a stretch to suggest it’s better. Clearly, there’s more action than intrigue here … yet the action is exciting, and even, from time to time, enlightening. Imagine The War of the Worlds meets Neon Genesis: Evangelion, both of which popular properties Neuvel doffs his hat at.

Waking Gods also evinces a focus on narrative over character. But that results in a whole lot of absorbing plot, not to mention a few fascinating answers. We learn the identity of the enigmatic man whose interviews made up so much of The Themis Files the first; the whys and wherefores of Rose Franklin’s resurrection are revealed; we even know, by the close of this part of the overarching narrative, what the beings who brought their monolithic machines here are about.

Truth be told, the whole story comes this close to wrapping up before Neuvel throws a spanner in the works with a surprise last line that positively explodes the premise of the series so far, promising, in the process, that the third book in The Themis Files will be bigger still. Whether or not it’ll be better… well, only time will tell—only time, and your tolerance of the turns this text takes, because while Waking Gods is a bunch of fun, it doesn’t have the subtlety or the smarts or the sense of wonder of book one.

#Sylvain Neuvel #Waking Gods #mahreviews

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