#This was shorter than I spected
Text
Charred Legacy: Chapter One
(AO3 counterpart here.)
All things considered, it was a nice night.
Fireheart was half-rolled onto his back, front paws tucked into his upturned chest while his rear end remained on its side. His tail tapped absentmindedly on the still-warm sand as he gazed up at the stars. The weather had loosened up, mercifully keeping the sky clear and even warming the air a little. It was still somewhat chilled, but the ground had softened from muddy slop to dense soil—still retaining a bit of moisture, but not enough to stick to a traveling cat’s paws—and the frost had barely made an appearance before shying away and melting again into dew.
Thank the Three for small miracles, Fireheart thought as his eyes lazily drifted from star to star. They know we needed it.
Caught up in the beauty of the sky and the grainy comfort of the sand, he was only somewhat registering cats talking around him. Faint squeals drifted out of the nursery’s entrance and his ear twitched at what he thought (hoped, really) was Goldenflower gently chiding the kits inside. Frostfur’s litter was already out, but in the past month they had calmed down considerably and come to prefer talking with the one cat in the apprentice’s den who would soon be a warrior, Swiftpaw, as he regaled them with stories of the territory and all the strange creatures they would see there.
Fireheart twisted his head back and to the side a bit—yes, there they were, listening to the black tom recounting his experience going to the Mother on the far side of the territories.
“And I know she looks scary,” he was saying, “but that’s kind of the point, I think. It makes you respect her even more. You just have to be brave and go into her mouth, trusting her. And Yellowfang will be there to guide you, so you’ll find your way.”
The sole molly of the litter, fluffy ginger-patched Brightkit, spoke up now. “I won’t be scared. The Mother wouldn’t hurt us—we’re her favorites.”
Thornkit, dark and golden-brown, frowned at her. “Still gotta be ‘spectful.”
Fireheart’s mouth twitched into a brief grimace in sympathy as the tom’s ears went back in embarrassment at the end of his sentence. Thornkit still slurred and stumbled over his words, even with as much as Frostfur had worked with him on speaking clearly, and he had been speaking shorter and shorter sentences recently, and at a much lower volume. His siblings understood him just fine, save one.
That one, the deaf little white tom directly in front of Swiftpaw, was Snowkit. His bright blue eyes, wide and vibrant, were fixed on Swiftpaw’s mouth as the apprentice said, “Yeah, it’s important to be quiet on the walk in and during the ceremony. Just wait until Yellowfang speaks to you.”
Brackenkit, a thinner and lighter version of Thornkit, tilted his head. “Will Cinderpaw be there?”
“She was when I went.” Swiftpaw’s eyes lifted upwards as he squinted a bit. “I mean, we did ours together, so that’s why, but I think she’d have to go anyway.” He turned to look at his dark grey sister as she limped out from the ferns by the meeting stump. “Hey, Cinderpaw! Are you going to be with these kits when they do their pilgrimage?”
Cinderpaw beamed with a hacking scoff very similar to her mentor’s. “Obviously! I have to learn how to do it myself, and there’s no way I’m missing out on Brighty getting blessed.” She swept her tail, crooked at the tip, in the direction of the toms. “And you guys, of course.”
Brackenkit seemed to take no offense. “I bet my blessing will be from Rokhar.”
Fireheart purred, rolling slowly onto his side. Of all the three gods, the Tiger was the one he understood the least. Then again, it seemed like everyone outside of the seer role had some trouble grasping exactly what Rokhar was all about. The first seer of Fireheart’s life in ThunderClan, Spottedleaf, had described him as being “in-between” and “all-encompassing”. Even after more than a year of being a Clan cat, Fireheart still had no idea what that meant.
“Why Rokhar?” Swiftpaw asked, sounding amused. “Because he’s the cool—?“
“Because he’s the cool one!” Brackenkit said, exactly in tandem with the apprentice. At another frown from Thornkit, he added, “I mean, they’re all cool, but Rokhar’s the coolest.”
Cinderpaw limped up to the little gathering of the young, her bad leg crumpled up towards her belly. “Knowing your dad, he’s probably telling Horoa right now to bless all of you with a Lion’s touch.”
While the kits all started babbling to each other about whether that was true or not, Fireheart’s heart clenched at the mention of Lionface. He had been the deputy of ThunderClan after Redtail, another first for Fireheart when he had joined the Clan from life as a house cat. Both of them had been great toms, Redtail kind and friendly and Lionface majestic and confident (even if he and Fireheart had clashed here and there). Both of them were gone, and both of them had been…
Fireheart’s claws sank into the sand. He eyed Cinderpaw’s crippled leg.
It had been around a month since the trial that shattered the Clan’s collective heart. No one had spoken of it after it happened, and even the mere implication of something that would link back to that night was hushed or ignored. Fireheart couldn’t stand this thing Clan cats had with refusing to acknowledge bad cats or the things they’d done; it didn’t help anyone feel better, it just made things awkward and sad. Supposedly, the spirits of these bad cats could come back if spoken about or named and haunt the territories, but as far as Fireheart had seen, the only thing they haunted was his dreams.
What he’d give to talk about this with Goldenflower.
But she was in the nursery now, and she needed peace and quiet to raise his adoptive siblings until they were big enough to come out and explore camp. Being forbidden from visiting, Fireheart just had to rely on news shared by Brindleface or Frostfur—mostly Brindleface, as Frostfur had left the nursery early to give the crowded den some room and now only came to check on her nearly-grown kits. Brindleface had been incredibly nervous and sensitive when she was stuck in the den, but now that she had been able to leave her kits for walks here and there…
“Fireheart! There you are!”
The ginger tom blinked and got to his feet, shaking off what sand had clung to his fur. The beautiful grey tortoiseshell in question had just climbed up and out of the nursery, her pale green eyes shining as Fireheart approached her.
“I have a surprise for you,” she said when he was close enough. “Well, two surprises.”
Fireheart perked up. “Really? Are they about Cloudkit?”
“They are.” Brindleface’s fluffy tail curled at the delight that must have immediately brightened up Fireheart’s face. “I’m sorry you couldn’t have come seen him before, but that makes this a little more interesting.”
Cloudkit had been adopted into the Clan, the same as his uncle. Fireheart had been given the kit by his frantic sister, Rosy, and ThunderClan took him in with only a bit of reluctance. The two of them did not look similar—Fireheart was skinny and shorthaired and Cloudkit was a ball of white fluff—and with the automatic distance of Fireheart not being able to visit to see his nephew and bond with him, he could only hope that they wouldn’t be so different that they could not find common ground besides being outsiders at birth, especially since Fireheart had promised to mentor Cloudkit once he became an apprentice.
“What is it, then?” he asked, trying not to sound overly-eager.
“Well, for one…” Brindleface turned and poked her head into the nursery. “Babies, do you want to come out now?”
Indistinct squeaks of excitement immediately followed this, and Brindleface purred before turning back to Fireheart, saying, “That’s the first surprise. They’re ready to meet you.”
Fireheart’s fur flared out and he beamed. “I can see him now!”
Brindleface nodded, her whiskers twitching. “And the second…”
She gestured with her paw just in time for the first kits to scramble out of the den: both grey with broken tabby markings, similar in every way except for the molly being both more delicate in the face and fluffier than her brother. They completely ignored Fireheart and bumbled out into the center of camp. Who followed them was—
Not the kit Fireheart had brought in.
This kit was fluffy and round, sure, but ginger covered his ears and nose and was steadily claiming his tail. His fur was quite long and puffed out, even if he was a bit small; if it weren’t for the unusual color, he would fit perfectly in with the rest of ThunderClan. By the way his deep blue eyes blinked owlishly at Fireheart, he was just as surprised at the reunion.
“Cloudkit,” Brindleface said with another paw-gesture, “this is your uncle, Fireheart. Remember how we talked about him?”
“Ohhh,” Cloudkit said loudly. He looked Fireheart up and down before announcing, “You’re short.”
“Cloudkit!” Brindleface scolded. “That’s rude.”
Fireheart chuffed and bent his head to meet his nephew’s eye-level. “And you’re pudgy.”
Cloudkit squinted at Fireheart. “What’s ‘pudgy’?”
“Fat!” Cinderpaw called from across the clearing.
Cloudkit squawked and slowly and clumsily swatted a paw in the direction of Fireheart’s nose. “’Mnot pudgy! You’re pudgy!”
Brindleface stared at the little tom in baffled embarrassment, but Fireheart pretended to be struck and rubbed his nose like it’d been scratched.
“Don’t beat me up, please,” he said, poorly hiding his amusement. “I’m sorry, you’re not.”
Cloudkit nodded in satisfaction—then, to Fireheart’s surprise, he toddled right up to his uncle and bumped their noses together. Him being so small, it didn’t hurt, but it was more of a punch than usual.
“Hi, uncle,” Cloudkit said, pulling back.
Fireheart’s whiskers twitched. “Hi, nephew.”
“That’s better.” Brindleface stepped forward to lick Cloudkit’s ear. “Are you ready to meet your Clanmates now?”
The little puffball nearly jumped in place and waddled off after his siblings, who were currently interrupting the discussion between Frostfur’s litter and Swiftpaw. Fireheart watched him go, amazed at the strength of the flame of affection in his chest, even when he hadn’t seen the kit since he’d come to the Clan.
“How did his fur get like that?” He turned to Brindleface now. “He was white when I brought him in.”
Brindleface rolled a shoulder. “Kittypet blood, I’m guessing. I’ve never seen anything like that in the territories. I thought he was sick at first, but he’s been perfectly happy and healthy this whole time.” She gave Fireheart a cheeky squint. “Both of you stick out now.”
Fireheart sighed a chuff. “At least he’ll be warm this winter.”
Brindleface nodded. Then her eyes flicked to the side and narrowed a fraction before she walked off after her litter. Fireheart’s gaze followed where she’d looked.
Darkstripe. Of course. He was glaring at the now-wandering Cloudkit.
Fireheart contained another, much heavier sigh. Since the trial, the dark tabby had hardly said more than one word to anyone, and they had to speak to him first. Fireheart hadn’t dared start a conversation with him—Darkstripe had never liked him to begin with, but since the end result of the trial was largely on Fireheart’s shoulders, the hatred in Darkstripe’s eyes burned Fireheart’s back whenever the two had to cross paths. He’d done his best to give the older warrior space, which was difficult when they shared a den.
Anticipating the glare to turn on him, Fireheart prepared to look away and find something else to engage with. He was saved by the camp entrance rustling to reveal the pale brown tortoiseshell Speckletail leading a patrol in. As her followers trotted to the prey-pile, she approached Darkstripe and said something to him Fireheart didn’t catch. Darkstripe didn’t respond beyond a twitch of his lip, getting to his feet and stalking out of camp. Speckletail watched him go, huffed and shook her head before joining the rest of the patrol.
After the loss of the prior deputy—the one that trial had been all about—Speckletail had been selected to replace him. She hadn’t been the expected choice, but she had accepted the role and immediately went about keeping the Clan busy and organized for the first month of her tenure. Fireheart suspected that this was a tactical decision; giving everyone something to do kept them from stewing in their own thoughts over the events of the past fall. Things had finally slowed down, with the warmer weather gifting the Clan with more prey than Fireheart had been told showed up in the end seasons. This was one of the first nights in quite a while that Fireheart had gotten to stay home and just enjoy the peace of camp.
“Good evening,” he said to Speckletail as she walked past him with a woodrat.
She nodded to him, putting down her prey for a moment. “Any word while I was gone?”
Fireheart shook his head, ears going back sadly. “I haven’t spoken to her since a few days ago.”
Speckletail sighed through her nose. Her eyes were tired. “I’ll talk with her once I’ve eaten.” She picked up her prey again and continued on her way, sitting down with Willowpelt on the far side of camp.
Fireheart’s eyes drifted to the wall of briar that surrounded the sandy clearing. Though he couldn’t see it, his gaze landed on the area where the leader’s den was situated on the outside.
Where Bluestar was undoubtedly sleeping.
The trial and the near-murder preceding it had hurt everyone, but it had broken something in the Clan’s leader. Only a few days after the deputy’s execution, Bluestar had become a rare sight. She now walked alone in the forest or holed up in her den, only coming out to order patrols or respond to something Speckletail asked her about. It had been part of the quiet conversation for some time now, but no one dared to broach the topic to Bluestar—even Fireheart, her former apprentice, or Whitecloud, her nephew.
It wasn’t fair, Fireheart wanted to shout to the stars. Of all the cats suffering, why did their leader have to struggle the hardest? The pain and suspicion and fear clouded her eyes and silenced her voice. It had been her throat the deputy’s teeth nearly crushed, her friends and Clanmates he crippled and murdered to get to her. Now, whenever she looked at her charges, it seemed like she was gauging their intentions, how well they could be trusted. Even Fireheart had been under scrutiny more than once.
She really would benefit from being able to talk about this whole thing…
“Cloudkit, please!”
Fireheart blinked and was back in camp. He turned his head to see his nephew marching for the fallen log that was the elder’s den. The elders were already out—lanky and grey One-eye, dark brown Halftail, and black-and-white Patchpelt—but they were talking among themselves, completely unaware of the kit making his way towards them, his siblings trailing behind with curious looks on their faces. Brindleface was padding after them, calling for Cloudkit.
“Let them be—” she started, but Cloudkit broke into a clumsy imitation of a run and continued on. Just as he reached Patchpelt, he tried to slow down, only succeeding in crashing right into the elder and stumbling backwards, plopping into a sitting position.
Patchpelt coughed (as he had been lately) in surprise and looked round to see the kit. His faded eyes brightened. “Well, now! I don’t remember this one.”
“I’m Cloudkit.” The furball blinked up at him. “My sister is Aspenkit and my brother is Ashkit.”
Halftail tilted his head, eyes narrowed analytically.
“You’ve got some ginger on your face, little ant,” croaked One-eye, peering with her single eye at the kit. “Or you’ve been playing in the sand.”
“No, he’s supposed to look like that.” Brindleface hurried up to them. “I’m sorry he disturbed you.”
“You know we love being disturbed,” Patchpelt said fondly, looking at the grey kits as they approached. “Ah, and this must be Ashkit and Aspenkit.”
The tom kit nodded firmly, standing as tall as he could, while the molly lowered her nose and shyly regarded the ground. Cloudkit, meanwhile, was meeting One-eye’s gaze, looking completely unbothered by the marred face that every kit and new apprentice was a little taken aback by. Fireheart noted with pride that he didn’t broach the topic of One-eye’s accident, only chirping, “You’re tall.”
One-eye chortled. “And old, on top of that. Do you know what my name is?”
Cloudkit shook his head.
“I’m One-eye, unsurprisingly.” The pale molly nodded to her denmates. “That’s Halftail and Patchpelt. Can you guess which is which?”
“Um…” Cloudkit scrunched up his little face before answering slowly. “Patchpelt’s got patches, and Halftail’s brown, right?”
“Very good.” Patchpelt purred. “We have easy names to remember.”
Cloudkit brightened up and wagged his short little tail. “I did it!”
“Yes, you did it,” Brindleface said, touching her nose to her adopted son’s head, adding to the elders, “I can distract him if he starts to bother you.”
“Oh, he’s not a bother at all.” One-eye tilted her head comically at Cloudkit, who trilled in response. “I haven’t had a kit not flinch at my face since I became an elder.”
Fireheart watched on as Cloudkit made his way around to Halftail, who eyed him suspiciously but said nothing. An anxiety he didn’t know was in his stomach settled at the warm looks on the elders’ faces when Cloudkit loudly announced, “Fireheart’s my uncle!” and puffed out his little chest.
He’s bold, Fireheart thought affectionately, watching his nephew respond to Patchpelt’s kindly questions about life in the nursery. Rosy, whether or not you get to see him again, I know you’ll be proud.
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
what hath night to do with sleep
summary: “rowing in eden—/ah, the sea! /might i moor—tonight—/in thee” — emily dickinson
warnings: suggestive content (not 18+ but be mindful; this isn’t smut, but it’s pretty much all suggestive so..... read with caution!); language, innuendo, me on my historical bullshit
a/n: i’m sorry. i’m sad this evening, and this happened. my love for jrd and period pieces apparently can’t be contained. there is zero plot.
london, 1840. january.
john shuts the door softly as you enter the house, cutting off the winter chill which nipped at your heels all the way from the theatre to your doorstep. he shivers, rubs his palms together, and stamps his slush covered shoes in the entryway. his footfalls echo in the dimly lit corridor, the floorboards creaking beneath the weight of his heels.
you turn at the coatrack, bonnet strings in hand. “john!” you whisper, your voice like a hot knife through the heavy silence. “quiet or you’ll wake the children.”
“oh, hush. the children sleep like rocks.” bending to pull off his shoes, he peers upwards through his long lashes, a glimmer in the corner of his eye. “i’m more worried about waking the old badger, mrs. poole.”
“already done, sir.”
john straightens with a cringe as mrs. poole hobbles into the hall. the candle in her chamberstick is stout, like the woman herself, and it casts harsh shadows along her tired face. you bite your lip to keep from smiling as john’s cringe morphs to blanch when mrs. poole skewers him with a dark, entirely unamused look.
“forgive me, mrs. poole,” john hurries. “i thought you’d gone to bed.”
“can’t have done when you’re out, sir. who is to watch over the door but me and me alone?”
she shakes her head back and forth as she brushes past him, muttering beneath her breath. john flattens himself against the wall to avoid her wake, and you snort, quickly lifting your hand to hide your smirk when mrs. poole turns from locking the front door. she glances between you and your husband before sighing deeply.
“ma’am, i ain’t one to speak out of turn—”
john scoffs with a dramatic roll of his eye. mrs. poole frowns, narrowing her gaze.
“i was sayin’ i ain’t one to speak out of turn, but—”
gently shaking your head, you step forward and circle your arm around mrs. poole’s, tugging her away from john. “mrs. poole, it’s late. why don’t you get some rest.”
the old woman’s steps are slow and awkward, one leg being shorter than the other; she leans into you as you make your way down the hall. at the end of the hall, you say, “i trust the children were well-behaved?”
she nods. “put up no fuss for me or tara.”
“i’m glad to hear it.” you smooth a hand over her tense shoulders then lower your voice, tilting your head in the direction of your husband, who hovers at the base of the stairs, his hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like a boy scolded listening in on his parents determining his punishment. “you know my husband, mrs. poole. he likes a jest. he means nothing by it. we would be in lost in the world without you.”
“yes, i ‘spect you would be.” mrs. poole waves her hand. “go to sleep then, ma’am. the lamplighter will be doin’ his rounds before we know it.”
you wait until the light of her candle disappears around the corner and you can hear her footsteps climbing the staircase to her quarters before twisting on your heel and scurrying to the base of the main stairs. lifting your hand, you swat john’s shoulder before he can stop you.
“john richard, you know better than to tease mrs. poole!”
he laughs and grabs your wrist when you try to swat him again. he smiles wide, the crinkles around his eyes on full display. “it’s simply too easy to poke at her,” he says. “she gets so riled up and—”
“and you are the most—”
“the most what?” john’s fingers tighten around the pulse of your wrist. his eyebrow quirks upwards. “the most charming? most dashing?” he leans forward, his breath fanning your face. “most handsome?”
his free arm circles around your back and settles in the curve of your waist. he pulls you close, your chest pressed against his. your heart trips, stumbles when the end of his nose brushes yours. he smells like the sharp winter air and the pomade he uses to style the curls of his hair.
“the most what?” he asks again.
you blink. “what?”
“you were saying something.” he lowers his mouth to the line of your jaw and nips gently at your skin. “i think you were going to insult me.”
“was i?” you’re practically gasping under his slow assault of your neck, your fingernails deep in the flesh of his arms as he sucks and licks along your skin. he’ll leave marks, you’re sure, but you have powder to cover it. “why would i want to do that?”
john pulls back far enough to kiss the corner of your lips. “my thoughts exactly.”
as he drags you up the stairs and through the hall, one hand tight in yours, the other feeling along the wall for the doorknob of your bedroom, you can’t help but marvel at him. your husband five years, father of your three children, and still he sends the blood in your veins pumping with excitement. he never fails to surprise you, your john. he’s brash when cross, juvenile when he gets around his chum roger, decisive and stern when it comes to his business dealings; he’s intelligent and witty and he’s entirely yours.
you count yourself blessed.
he finds the doorknob to your room when he runs into it.
he stops short and drops your hand to clutch his side in pain. “damnation!” he hisses. “who on earth put a handle there? for fuck’s sake, i could have hit the family jewels with that thing!”
you push the door open yourself, shushing him as he continues to complain. the children are sound asleep down the hall; they won’t hear you. but the idea of a pair of small feet padding down the carpet worries you nonetheless. it’s rare you get a moment alone with john, even when he’s carrying on. you want to savor it as long as you can.
shutting the door with a soft click, you tumble into the darkness together, your hands pulling at the crispy white shirt tucked into his trousers. he continues to mumble under his breath about proper building techniques, even as he slides the buttons of your blouse through their loops. you toss his shirt aside, and it falls to the floor with a soft thump. moonlight bathes the back of his body in a hazy sort of glow, and you sink into him when he kisses you again, his hands pausing when the first layer of your gown falls open.
“you wear too many undergarments,” he whispers.
you unhook the top of your corset, and air floods your lungs as the tight squeeze of your ribs begins to release. “would you prefer i wear none?”
john makes a sound akin to a growl in the back of his throat, and he swoops forward, bending to wrap his arms around the small of your back and slot his mouth over yours. you hum into his touch, your toes barely planted on the floor as he kisses you thoroughly.
his skin is hot against yours, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as your heart beats. he breaks away to catch his breath, and you tilt your head back, eyes half-shut as he marks your neck and exposed shoulders.
you think you could stay like this forever—with him—in the darkness.
john loves you well in the daylight. he holds your hand in the crook of his arm when you walk; he winks at you from across the room; he introduces you as his better half. he is everything you need him to be and more.
but in the darkness... in the darkness is where he loves you best.
as he sets about divesting you of the remainder of your clothing, his hands as skilled as they are frantic, you push aside mrs. poole’s advice for you to get some sleep. night wasn’t made for sleep alone.
#john deacon x reader#queen fic#had to stop there cause i don't do sm*t on this blog#okay bye#j blurbs
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
Embiggening
Booty Bay, Stranglethorn
"Nah, nah, jest stay here cuzzo, I gots this."
"S-she's not gonna believe ya."
"Oh trusts me, Ricky, she'll believes me jest fine!"
Holding both hands up to reassure his cousin, the speckled Goblin grinned wide. Walking backwards he made a 'stay there' motion and sauntered his way through the cave leading into Booty Bay. As per usual it was a hub of ships being offloaded and mooks trailing after Goblin bosses. Pirates and mercenaries both lingered at the docks looking for work, trouble, or both. Striding through them all as if he belonged there this particular Goblin headed for a second tier set of homes, pausing at the one he wanted.
Raising his hand to rap a tune on the door he whistled to himself. There was a commotion inside, a raspy voice muttering while a high pitched one shouted about being just a moment. Idly rocking on his heels Vozi didn't seem to mind the wait, glancing about the walkway before the door was yanked open. Piercing green eyes glared at him as the female Goblin leaned against the doorjamb. One of her hands rested on her sword hilt until her eyes fell on her visitor.
"Auntie Cilby! How's ya doin', piracy payin' ya well?"
"Whaddaya want, can'tcha tell I'm busy here?"
Aunt Cilby was a typical Goblin lady, if a bit taller than some. Her pinkish red hair was shaved on either side of her head, the top grown long and swept to the left to brush her chin. A nasty scar lay over the right side of her face, something no one had been brave enough to ask about. Her ears were a lot like Vozi's cousins, large, with a downward turn at their tips. Pierced in both lobes were bone gauges, and gold rings took up space above these.
"'Course, 'course, don'ts meanta interferes in ya business or nothin'. But its 'bout Ricky...y'seee-"
"Whadidja do ta my son, Vozi, I'll rip that piercin' outta your nose an-"
"Whoa, whoa, ain't nothin'....bad happen. Jest gots us a small...well...a large problem. Ya see's he founds himself this guy he likes, 'cept he's a real big Tauren an'-"
"A Tauren?"
"Yeah! Anyways! I thoughts I could help 'im out y'know, since he's shorter an' all. So I made up one'a them embiggeners that've been goin' around-"
Cilby held up one ringed finger, kneading her forehead with her other one in exasperation. Her nostrils flared and she let out a sharp snort because she knew where this was going. Her nephew and his big mechanical schemes always had a way of landing trouble at her doorstep. Why her son would allow her harebrained nephew use any sort of machine on him was beyond her.
"Lemme guess, ya 'embiggened' him."
"Uhh...wells, Aunt Cilby, yeahs. I enlarged Ricky."
"An' I s'pose'n it didn't go well?"
Vozi scratched at the side of his head with a grin and shrugged his shoulders a little. The former Bruiser, current mercenary, battle-scarred and hardened Goblin actually looked sheepish if not nervous. Aunt Cilby was a lot like his mother had been, which made sense as they were sisters. That said he had a great fear of his Aunt when she was angry, about as tame as a honey badger. It was even worse if it had anything to do with her youngest baby.
"Nots quite. I means. It worked, sures, but, uh, made'm a bit bigger thans I meant ta."
"How's big?"
"Wells...uhh...y'knows that big ol' cathedral thing theys got in Stormwind? I 'spect he coulds step on it."
Aunt Cilby's hand shot out and she brought a fist down on Vozi's head, making him wince. That was short lived as she grabbed his ear, dragging him closer with a dangerous glint in her eyes. Dragging him closer she narrowed her eyes. Her sisters son or not she wouldn't hesitate to end him if something bad happened to her baby. Once Vozi was real close to her face she made her threat.
"Ya goin' ta bring me t'my boy an' if'n y'can't fix this I'ma rip ya ears off and stuff 'em down ya throat."
"'C-course, Auntie! I'll fix it, ow! Ow, leggo o'my ear, I cant's fix him if'n my ears off!"
"Lead me to 'im."
"Y-yeahs, he's jest out this way!"
Pointing toward Booty Bays entrance he backed up when Aunt Cilby let go of his ear. One hand reached up to rub the sore spot as he led the way, making sure to keep out of ear grabbing reach as they headed out. Cilby has her lips pursed as she followed her wayward nephew down the ramps and outside. That was until she saw Rickket sitting cross-legged nearby. He was hunched over to miss the trees above him and looked miserable.
"Fine mess y'made. How ya gonna fix this?"
"Well sees, I gots this plan..."
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Quarrels
Bond of the Grey Ch 7
An unexpected meeting is called when the march returns to Skyhold.
Weeds flattened to the ground by the mass of soldiers on foot and horseback. Through the Exalted Plains, the expedition persevered. The Inquisition's massive army trekked almost uninterrupted through open land. Any enemy blocking the march met soldiers capable of eradicating them with minimal effort.
Like clockwork, at dusk they set camp and each morning camp broke with the same succinctness. Night after night, the armies traveled through the Dales to the Emprise du Lion. Tepid days and cool nights changed to a steady chill. The frigid climate took its toll, shortened daylight hours made for shorter days of marching. But the urge to stay warm and escape of the icy environment compelled everyone to move faster.
“So you’re telling me you have magical fragments of the enemy fused in your lung… and it’s not a big deal?” Alistair questioned, frustrated with Caoilainn's nonchalant attitude.
Caoilainn informed Alistair of her conversation with Philippa when she joined him for the evening, leaving the Wardens’ camp to join him in his tent. Her brow arched, annoyed with his question.
“It’s non-magical. And it’s nothing, Alistair,” she waved off his question and occupied herself with removing her outer layer of armor. “Philippa didn’t seem worried. She plans to meet with Fiona to discuss a ceremony to remove the red lyrium.”
“Oh!” Alistair’s arms rose in the air as he turned on his heels. Pacing, he looked to Caoilainn to accent key points of his speech. “Great. A ceremony. Done by the mage who miscalculated the power needed for her genius plan in the Arbor Wilds, meeting with the mage who accidentally trapped this red stuff in your body. That is a splendid idea.”
She pulled her tabard over her head and tossed it onto his cot. “Do you have something better?” Shaking her head, Caoilainn pressed him for an answer.
“Well, no.” He sighed, paces coming to a halt.
Patient steps carried her toward him. She took his hand into hers, her thumb rubbed the top of his palm. Her silvery-blue gaze soothed the worry in his hazel stare. “Look, Fiona saved my life. And I trust Philippa.”
“Uh-huh,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes as his shoulders relaxed. “You always trust these mages way too much, if you ask me.”
Her lips curved, an amused smile responding to his evaluation. “I didn’t ask, my King.” Caoilainn’s hand reached to his cheek and rested, appreciating the texture of his stubble on her palm. “But I’m glad to have you with me.”
Thoughts of their conversation lingered in Alistair’s mind. An explicit agreement for honesty, secrets known to be hazardous to their sanctum, Caoilainn gave Alistair what little detail Philippa shared. Displeased with the news, Alistair’s doubt and distrust of magic boiled. But in this case, Caoilainn’s stubbornness calmed him in its own way. Decisiveness recognized as confidence settled fears of the unknown; it reminded him what captivated him about her. Furthermore, Caoilainn's coughing fits subsided, nightmares disappeared, Philippa's potion did as promised.
Trotting side by side on horseback for significant portions of the march, and sharing the same tent each night, the royal couple’s openness placed value on shared time. Working to uplift one another rather than give up in despair to the dangers ahead. Arguments diminished, conflicts resolved with less effort and the renewed shared perspective strengthened their connection.
Communication found a different form for Nathaniel and Hale. Short, fiery spats often extinguished by fervid trysts, neither addressed the recurring themes of these incidents. Rather, when quarrels escalated in severity, yelling ensued, then the pair retreated. The two took turns backing out of conflict before either stated the truth of their concern.
“Said he bet I shot like a girl,” Hale reflected on an event in the alienage when she was a child. Nate and Hale walked through the snowy ground of the Emprise late in the evening. She invited Nathaniel to hunt with her with the rationale of catching larger prey. Bows in hand, the pair kept their senses tuned through the conversation.
Nate hummed, glancing at the proud huntress beaming at his side. Her story reminded him of a fond memory: an impromptu competition he had with an elven woman in the Marches long before his conscription to the Wardens. “Let me guess, you showed him how a girl can shoot.”
“Bet yer arse I did,” she stroked the smooth wood of her bow and plucked the newly strung cord. “Wanker didn’t ‘spect me to cut his time in half and split his arrow on the last shot.”
“I would’ve liked to have seen that.” Nate stepped over a snow-covered log, keeping his attention on Hale.
“So, what were you like as a kid?” Hale smiled to him and squinted her eyes before pondering aloud. “Lemme guess. A sweet, little noble boy- always did what yer da told you; never once even thought about breaking rules.”
“Hah, not quite,” Nate smirked at Hale’s projection of him as a child. The smile faded as he recalled aspects of his past. "The truth? I couldn’t do anything right in my father’s eyes. I did what he said most of the time. And when I broke rules, I suffered for it. He said all of it would make me a better man.” Unfocused, he stared ahead. “For the longest time I believed him....” Nate’s sentence trailed off.
Hale’s cheeks flushed, regretting the question she asked and the direction he took. She hurried to lighten the mood, “Well, I like the man you are now.” Nate’s eyebrows raised and his smirk returned, entertained and waiting to hear more of her approval. Face hot, Hale broke eye contact and held up her bow. “‘Least until you snap my bowstring and nearly break my new bow ‘cause yer boots are so damn heavy.”
Lips resuming their frown complimented his creased brow, the criticism irritated Nate. He almost demolished her bow when he packed that morning. Poor placement of her weapon led to the string breaking when the pressure of his foot forced it beyond its threshold. Nathaniel, known for his orderliness, had not expected Hale's things strewn about his floor. He took the weight off his foot before he splintered the entire weapon.
“If you didn’t leave your things on the floor of my tent when you go off with Damia, I wouldn’t step on them,” he snapped. Implied resentment seeped through his harsh tone. Hale’s jaw dropped as her cheeks remained red, now from anger. Annoyed with his own reaction, Nathaniel avoided her eyes.
Hale had left the tent while he slept, this time to bathe with Damia before the camp broke down. The two women found rinsing off in the icy water far more bearable together. When Nathaniel stepped on her weapon, it took little effort to deduce Hale’s whereabouts. If not hunting alone or in his company, Hale would only be with her close friend. The women’s friendship, in line with Hale’s brash nature, often became flirtatious and physical.
The quarrel escalated. Hale accused him of jealousy and Nate called out her inconsiderate behavior. A whispered argument transpired as both archers stayed attuned to the environment. Even their row would not warrant losing a kill, and a potential hearty meal that night.
True to their pattern, neither willing to ask when they neared the same underlying question: ‘why do you come back to me?’ This time Hale backed down, agreeing to remove her things when she departed from his tent. Not once did ending the intimate aspects of their relationship arise in conversation.
In one breath, the two stopped in unison. Form shifted, arrows nocked and loosed, and an august ram just within their sight taken down by their shots.
Days grew to weeks, and the land changed around them. Snow and sleet melted to soft earth, covered in fallen leaves. The Inquisition forces met little resistance as they reached the foothills of the Frostback Mountains. Filing into a narrow line, the trip back up the mountain range was tedious. Through valleys, they climbed to higher elevation until reaching Skyhold.
The colossal fortress, unmistakable amongst the mountains, dominated the landscape. Layers of stone, stacked and sealed with magical energy, Skyhold remained as breathtaking as always. Repairs completed, the stronghold provided security and asylum to refugees, and harbored its allies with care.
The grounds, filled well beyond capacity left Ferelden’s Royal Army, Highever soldiers and the Grey Wardens camped in the valley outside of the haven. Regardless, the soldiers valued a temporary home with a limitless supply of clean water and steady meals before returning to Ferelden. Surreal after so many weeks of travel, the comfort near the fortress welcomed them.
Provided a room within Skyhold’s walls, Alistair and Caoilainn made their way across the bridge and through the gatehouse. The calm welcome to the quiet stronghold did not last long. Hurried steps carried the Inquisitor down the stairs from the main hallway. The sight of a displeased elven woman approaching shocked the royal couple, since she had been in the ruins of the temple as the rest departed the Arbor Wilds.
The Inquisitor addressed Commander Rutherford. “I require a council meeting right away. You can rest later.” Alanna turned to face Alistair and Caoilainn. “Your majesties, if you would be so kind as to join us.” Alistair and Caoilainn shared a glance; Alanna's curt words lingered to carry those gathered up the steps.
The click of the door shutting behind brought the War Room's attention to Alanna. Cullen stood to her left, Morrigan to her right. Equipped with her board of notes, Josephine and Leliana stationed at the side of the table between them. Opposite the Inquisitor, Alistair and Caoilainn stayed side by side passing confused sideways glances to each other.
The Inquisitor addressed her Commander first. “Commander Rutherford, I know our losses were high. Tell me: what’s the damage?”
Cullen shifted on his tired feet and he looked to the War Table. Papers spread across the map, calculations, lists of names and letters littered the surface. Not among them: his notes from the most recent skirmish.
“Ah… yes. I am pleased to report we won the battle, Inquisitor. I have a rough estimate based on the bodies collected at the pyres and counting those on the march. However, I will need time to go over the data compared to the standing armies now.” Cullen held eye contact with Alanna, and tilted his head forward, brows raised. The pair communicated through the gaze.
“Thank you, Commander.” Her shoulders relaxed and her tone eased. “But I would appreciate any information you have now, even if it’s rough estimates.”
“Of course.” Cullen nodded, his lips hinting at a smile. It vanished as he straightened his posture, speaking to all the attendees of the meeting. “We made a significant dent in Corypheus’ forces before they retreated.”
“Then Corypheus is finished?” The scratching from Josephine’s quill halted. She looked to Cullen and the Inquisitor.
Before they could speak, another voice answered. “If Corypheus is wise, he will hide and rebuild before he attacks again.” Leliana, face obscured by her hood, responded to Josephine without making eye contact.
“Regardless, Cullen, how many did we lose?” Alanna redirected the conversation back to her original concern.
Cullen nodded and looked up, counting numbers in his head before giving his estimate. “It looks like we lost close to a quarter, including our allies. Your work with the sentinels kept that from growing larger.”
“Yes. I’m glad we managed.” Alanna stood straighter, regaining professionalism. She looked across the table to Caoilainn. Caoilainn’s eyes widened. “Warden Commander, I’m surprised to see you standing. Please, would you care to explain the mishap that occurred among your Wardens?”
Caoilainn gave a sideways glance to Alistair, seeking his support. Aware of the silence, she lowered her head to think. Hands clasped behind her, the pose provided comfort, a reflection of her leadership. She met Alanna’s stare and cleared her throat. “Yes, Inquisitor. Philippa must not have expected the strength of the enemy mages. We destroyed the demons without difficulty, but our mages didn’t have the magical power to sustain control over the enemy.”
“We realized this was a risk,” Alanna’s eyes squinted, studying the woman across from her. “And we decided if this occurred, the corrupted mages would be eliminated rather than saving them.”
“Correct.” Feet shifted, Caoilainn stood wider, her hands behind her clasped tighter. “We took them down with few casualties among my soldiers.”
“Not including yourself, evidently.” Alanna’s brow rose. The small elven woman seemed to grow taller, more intimidating as her posture straightened. She mirrored Caoilainn’s pose. “For a moment, many of us were under the false impression you died.”
The room remained silent. Brows furrowing, Caoilainn eyes narrowed as she interacted with Alanna. What is she getting at? Distrust encouraged a lifted chin; the Warden Commander gave the Inquisitor a cynical grin. “I’m sorry to disappoint, Inquisitor Lavellan. Is that a problem?” Caoilainn thought she could hear Alistair’s teeth grinding. His hand twitched at her question.
“Oh no,” Alanna’s voice softened, the words sounded sincere, but her stance maintained her stoicism. “But your army and yourself, Commander, could have compromised our mission. Your incident - fleeing your post from your army, mind you- besides the error of your mages impacted our losses. The Inquisition depends on every last one of our soldiers out there, putting their lives at risk for this battle.” Her hand pointed toward the courtyard where the Inquisition troops recuperated from their expedition.
“As my Wardens and I have done,” Caoilainn’s steeled gaze at Alanna darkened; her frown deepened.
Alistair chimed in. His voice a pleasant break from the tension between these women. He spoke to the room. “And let’s not forget about Ferelden and Highever armies, who, I will add, would not be here if not for my tenacious Queen. Isn’t that right, my dear?” He glanced at Caoilainn.
She read his body language, the use of words and inflection. Alistair was urging her to back down. Not happening. “If the Inquisitor does not see my contributions as substantial to her losses, I cannot change that. What are you suggesting as consequence, Inquisitor?” Caoilainn’s brow arched, prepared for Alanna to state her requirements.
“Leave,” Alanna’s arms unclasped and crossed her chest. “You and your Wardens are too unpredictable against Corypheus. We cannot afford the risks accompanied.”
The weight of the Inquisitor's dismissal hung heavy in the room. Baffled stares questioned her words and strong judgment of the Wardens. Wary of the distrust between Alanna and Caoilainn prior to the battle, no one questioned Alanna's decision. Josephine's lips squeezed tight as she took notes on the meeting.
The words hit Caoilainn with force, knocking the wind out of her. With a desperate glance to Morrigan, Caoilainn had a sudden awareness of the pounding of her heart and the clenching of her fist. Her jaw slacked for a split second before she regained her composure. “Inquisitor, we... have you thought this through? We can help in other ways. If Corypheus has some sort of archdemon-”
“‘Tis not an archdemon. Corypheus will not hide.” Morrigan responded to Caoilainn’s concerns, the witch's cool demeanor unaltered by the disagreement. “The Well held many voices and they speak to me now from across the ages. I know how to defeat the dragon. The beast, corrupted by red lyrium and Corypheus' pride, is our key. If we destroy the dragon, you may slay the Elder One.”
I thought you would help me. Gazing at Morrigan, Caoilainn’s hands fell limp at her sides. I’m not done here. A search for a cure to the Calling, a personal motivator for her involvement in the Inquisition’s campaign, now seemed a lost cause.
“If she goes, I go.” The King's hand brushed against his Queen’s; their fingers laced in subtle solidarity. With raised posture, a determined stance, Alistair made his announcement. His free hand lifted, rolling with his speech. “Though I would like to continue offering the help of my army, I am not willing to support an operation so unappreciative of those who offer allegiance. Particularly alliances willing to enter an enemy country and fight alongside old foes for your sake.”
“The Highever troops will return with me. It was part of my agreement with my brother.” Caoilainn steeled gaze resumed, despair faded to her authority.
“So be it.” The Inquisitor's hands came to lay flat on the table. She glanced to Morrigan before replying. The two nodded to each other. “Your troops may rest here before you leave. Thank you both for your time and efforts.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. Furrowed brows, mouth gaping, Caoilainn barked her response. “Our effort must not have been-”
Alistair gripped her hand tighter and interrupted. “What I think my Queen is trying to say is: ‘it was our pleasure.’ If the circumstances were different, we could have made a great team.” With a diplomatic bow of his head, he held up their clasped hands. “If our support is no longer required, we will leave you to your meeting.”
Alanna’s eyes wandered to the doorway, and she dipped her head the same direction, giving the couple permission to leave. Wordless, Caoilainn’s eyes wide, dumbfounded by the recent events; she followed Alistair’s guidance from the room.
Creaking, the door swung shut, dotted with a pointed click. Morrigan’s sophisticated lilt followed. Assuring her expertise, she informed Alanna. “Speak to me when you are ready, Inquisitor. In the meantime, I must aid my friend before she departs.”
The Witch of the Wilds took prompt leave, not waiting for permission. Whispers of the Well sensed the taint in Caoilainn and Alistair’s blood and spoke of a way to expel the sickness.
#ch 7#bond of the grey#mother of griffons pt 2#mother of griffons#dragon age fanfiction#dragon age#dragon age inquisition#dragon age au#nathaniel howe#alistair theirin#caoilainn cousland#hale lavellan#non-inquisitor lavellan#alistair x cousland#nathaniel howe x oc#inquisitor lavellan#arguments#conflict#budding romance#bamf women
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Intraoperative Radiation Therapy Market worth USD 66 million : Emerging economies offer high growth potential
According to the new market research report “Intraoperative Radiation Therapy Market by Technology (Electron IORT, Brachytherapy), Products & Services (Accelerators, Treatment Planning system, Applicators, Afterloaders, Accessories), Application (Breast, Brain, Lung Cancer) – Global Forecasts to 2025″, published by MarketsandMarkets™, the Intraoperative radiation therapy products market is projected to reach USD 66 million by 2025 from USD 48 million in 2020, at a CAGR of 6.4% during the forecast period.
Browse in-depth TOC on “Intraoperative Radiation Therapy Market”
77 – Tables
33 – Figures
159 – Pages
Download PDF Brochure: https://www.marketsandmarkets.com/pdfdownloadNew.asp?id=245000083
The technological advancements such as the introduction of mobile IORT system, rising incidence of cancer, and advantages offered by IORT over conventional radiotherapy are the major factors driving the growth of the global intraoperative radiation therapy products market. Additionally, growing clinical trials exploring the use of IORT for various cancer applications is expected to offer lucrative growth opportunities to market players.
The Electron IORT segment to account for the largest share of the intraoperative radiation therapy market, by technology, in 2019
Based on technology, the intraoperative radiation therapy market is segmented into electron IORT and intraoperative brachytherapy. The electron IORT segment is expected to account for the largest share of the market in 2019. IOERT is a suitable option for patients with locally advanced or recurrent cancer such as partial breast and rectal cancer. Thus, rising target patient population, promising clinical trials, and growing R&D investments will further drive the segment growth.
The breast cancer segment, by application, is to register the highest CAGR in the market during the forecast period
Based on application, the intraoperative radiation therapy market is segmented into breast cancer, brain tumor, gastrointestinal cancer, head & neck cancer, colorectal cancer, endometrial and cervical cancer, lung cancer, and other cancers. IORT offers a reduced amount of irradiation, shorter treatment time, and lesser clinical effects on the skin, lung, and heart. Furthermore, in the case of early-stage breast cancer, IORT offers partial breast irradiation and can be used as a breast-conserving alternative to traditional lumpectomy and mastectomy. Intraoperative radiotherapy offers advantages such as high precision, better cosmetic outcomes, greater patient comfort, and cost-effectiveness. These factors driving adoption of IORT for breast cancer appication.
Request Sample Pages: https://www.marketsandmarkets.com/requestsampleNew.asp?id=245000083
North America to dominate the intraoperative radiation therapy market during the forecast period
The Intraoperative radiation therapy products market is segmented into five major regions, namely, North America, Europe, Asia Pacific, Latin America, and the Middle East & Africa. The North American region is expected to account for the largest share of the market in 2019. The growth in this market is mainly attributed to the increasing healthcare expenditure in the region, technological advancements, and high adoption of IORT products owing to the increasing incidence of cancer.
The major players operating in the intraoperative radiation therapy market are ZEISS Group (Germany), iCAD, Inc. (US), Eckert & Ziegler (Germany), Elekta AB (Sweden), GMV Innovating Solutions (Spain), Sensus Healthcare, Inc. (US), IntraOp Medical, Inc. (US), Isoray, Inc. (US), Becton, Dickinson and Company (US), Sordina IORT Technologies (Italy), Varian Medical Systems, Inc. (US), SeeDos Ltd. (UK), IsoAid LLC (US), Ariane Medical Systems Ltd. (UK), Panacea Medical Technologies Pvt. Ltd. (India), Salutaris Medical Devices (US), Brainlab AG (Germany), RaySearch Laboratories (Sweden), REMEDI Co., Ltd. (South Korea), Merit Medical Systems, Inc. (US), among others.
Speak to Analyst: https://www.marketsandmarkets.com/speaktoanalystNew.asp?id=245000083
Browse Adjacent Markets: Medical Devices Market Research Reports & Consulting
Browse Related Reports:
Fiducial Markers Market by Product (Metal Based Markers (Gold, Gold Combination) Polymer Markers), Cancer Type (Prostate, Lung, Breast), Modality (CT, CBCT, MRI, Ultrasound), End user (Hospitals, Outpatient Facilities) – Global Forecast to 2025
https://www.marketsandmarkets.com/Market-Reports/fiducial-markers-market-180673710.html
Nuclear Medicine/Radiopharmaceuticals Market by Type (Diagnostic (SPECT – Technetium, PET- F-18), Therapeutic (Beta Emitters – I-131, Alpha Emitters, Brachytherapy – Y-90)), Application (Oncology, Cardiology) – Global Forecast to 2024
https://www.marketsandmarkets.com/Market-Reports/radiopharmaceuticals-market-417.html
About MarketsandMarkets™
MarketsandMarkets™ provides quantified B2B research on 30,000 high growth niche opportunities/threats which will impact 70% to 80% of worldwide companies’ revenues. Currently servicing 7500 customers worldwide including 80% of global Fortune 1000 companies as clients. Almost 75,000 top officers across eight industries worldwide approach MarketsandMarkets™ for their painpoints around revenues decisions.
Our 850 fulltime analyst and SMEs at MarketsandMarkets™ are tracking global high growth markets following the “Growth Engagement Model – GEM”. The GEM aims at proactive collaboration with the clients to identify new opportunities, identify most important customers, write “Attack, avoid and defend” strategies, identify sources of incremental revenues for both the company and its competitors. MarketsandMarkets™ now coming up with 1,500 MicroQuadrants (Positioning top players across leaders, emerging companies, innovators, strategic players) annually in high growth emerging segments. MarketsandMarkets™ is determined to benefit more than 10,000 companies this year for their revenue planning and help them take their innovations/disruptions early to the market by providing them research ahead of the curve.
MarketsandMarkets’s flagship competitive intelligence and market research platform, “Knowledge Store” connects over 200,000 markets and entire value chains for deeper understanding of the unmet insights along with market sizing and forecasts of niche markets.
Contact:
Mr. Aashish Mehra
MarketsandMarkets™ INC.
630 Dundee Road
Suite 430
Northbrook, IL 60062
USA: +1-888-600-6441
Email: [email protected]
Research Insight: https://www.marketsandmarkets.com/ResearchInsight/intraoperative-radiation-therapy-market.asp
Visit Our Web Site: https://www.marketsandmarkets.com
Content Source: https://www.marketsandmarkets.com/PressReleases/intraoperative-radiation-therapy.asp
0 notes
Text
MEET THE MUSE
► Name ➔ Haebitna Yoo
► Are you single ➔ Yes
► Are you happy ➔ No
► Are you angry? ➔ Is angry a term I could use right now? It’s more than that.
► Are your parents still married ➔ No. And they won’t be able get back together. Ever.
NINE FACTS
► Birth Place ➔ Jeonju
► Hair Color ➔ I dyed it blonde.
► Eye Color ➔ Brown
► Birthday ➔ In a few days
► Mood ➔ Not in the mood
► Gender ➔ Female. What do you think I am?
► Summer or winter ➔ Summer. I now hate winter.
► Morning or afternoon ➔ Morning
EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE
► Are you in love ➔ How do you even tell?
► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ Maybe
► Who ended your last relationship ➔ ...
► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ Let’s not talk about it.
► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ No. As long as I am ready, then I wouldn’t be.
► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ Can Ggomo be considered?
► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ I don’t know.
► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ You know, maybe that’s it. Maybe they did not broke my heart. Maybe it was my fault after all..
SIX CHOICES
► Love or lust ➔ Love
► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ Lemonade
► Cats or Dogs ➔ Ggomo
► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ A few who would stay.
► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ Night in
► Day or night ➔ Day. Always.
FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS
► Been caught sneaking out ➔ Yes
► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ I was clumsy that time
► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ Didn’t think it hurts so much until now.
► Wanted to disappear ➔ Honestly? Yes.
FIVE PREFERENCES
► Smile or eyes ➔ Eyes
► Fat or skinny ➔ Any
► Shorter or Taller ➔ Taller
► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ Both
► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ Why would you choose something temporary and full of uncertainties?
FAMILY
► Do you and your family get along ➔ Can we skip this?
► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ I guess you could say that.
► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ There’s no home to run away from anymore.
► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ No
FRIENDS
► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ No
► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ They’re not friends if they aren’t.
► Who is your best friend ➔ Terry.
► Who knows everything about you ➔ My dad, but he’s gone.
Tagged by: @somecrazylads (I got to explore the current Haebitna so thank you for this!)
Tagging: @antipsychx ; @destructiveurgxs ; @luxinexitium ; @spected ; @pullstrings ; @obciidian ; @lonelyeternities ; @stilledsouls ; @consilian
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
There's this Hallmark movie called I Married Who? where Kellie Martin wakes up the morning after her Las Vegas bachelorette party accidentally married to a famous movie star and I'm not saying you should write it as a Bill and Laura AU I'm just saying I WOULD NOT STAND IN YOUR WAY
@okaynextcrisis, I can’t see Bill or Laura being amovie star, but sweet Billy deserves to have some fun, right?
Of all the messes she’d cleaned upfor Billy, this had to be the worst, and that was saying something.
He was a sweet kid. A sweet, stupidkid. A sweet, stupid kid who couldn’t hold his damn liquor and couldn’t say noto a pretty girl, and that’s why she was waiting impatiently for him in thelobby of the Wynn at 8am.
He called her in a panic four hoursago, waking her in the middle of a wonderful dream about a cabin on acrystal-clear lake and a world without cellphones, and she was half-tempted toquit before she answered his call.
More than half when she found outthe reason for the call. He was a sweet, stupid kid who’d gotten married inVegas. Dammit, Billy. He’d promisedher that he was going up to his suite right after he finished his drink, andthat was the only reason she’d left him unattended at the pre-awards VIP party.It was late, she was tired, and she had a book that promised a much betterevening than babysitting her client. Even if he was her favorite client. Sweet, stupid kid.
She didn’t get paid enough forthis. She didn’t even want to ask for the details, but she had to so that she could fix it.
“Her name is Dee, and she’s beautiful,but Laura…I didn’t mean to get married.”
Of course he didn’t. He didn’t meanto get a very visible tattoo of a starlet he took out on one date, or get in abar fight with a surly costar at the opening of a club in Hollywood, or getarrested for public drunkenness after the Golden Globes, but he didnonetheless, and she was always the first person he called.
Every time she answered a phonecall from Billy Keikeya, she was reminded of how happy she was to not havechildren. And reminded that she could probably retire off of what he paid herafter each spectacular screw-up and never look back.
Still, he was a sweet kid. Shedidn’t want to leave him high and dry, married to some stranger and probably onthe hook for more alimony than even he could afford once the girl’s parents gotwind of just who exactly theirdarling daughter married in the middle of the night in some seedy Vegas chapel.
She could just picture them, fadedflannel, beat-up pickup truck and shotguns at the ready, chasing Billy down theStrip and demanding that he do right by their daughter. Oh, she needed a raise.It was going to be a long morning.
She hoped the worst she’d face wasangry parents. It was Vegas, though, and Billy was a stupid kid, and she’d lefthim alone in the hotel at midnight with a fistful of bills and absolutely nocommon sense. He might have met some wayward bachelorette party bride withsomething to prove, or he might have taken home an escort.
She did not get paid enough for this. Laura was supposed to get him to thehotel and make sure he made it to the MGM Arena in time for the People’s ChoiceAwards. She was not supposed to bail him out of a quickie marriage.
And yet, here she was. Laura wasmore than a little shocked when she met the happy couple in the lobby for breakfast,Billy clutching the girl’s hand. She was pretty and had a ready smile, but sohad the last 20 or so women who had staked a claim on her client.
Of course, the last 20 or so womenwho’d spent some time with Billy didn’t bring backup, but this girl did. He wasglowering over Billy’s shoulder, as well as he could given that he was a goodsix inches shorter than Billy, but he sure as hell was making his point withthose piercing blue eyes of his. He was sizing her up, and she could tell thathe found her lacking. She smoothed down her skirt and pasted her PR smile onher face before she caught herself.
It was 8am, and her client was apain in the ass, and why was she mentally apologizing to this man? He should beapologizing to her.
“Bill Adama,” the man said, holdingout his in a polite greeting.
He didn’t look like an angry father,or a greasy Vegas pimp. He looked like a battle-weary soldier, his pants andshirt pressed in precise angles.
He didn’t look like a pimp,exactly, but it was Vegas. In thistown, khaki pants with well-pressed seams were hardly a measure ofrespectability.
“Laura Roslin,” she said as shetook his hand, shaking it firmly. “Billy is my client.”
“Dee is mine,” he said.
So he was a pimp.
“She has an interview and a photoshoot today, and she’s…not looking her best. Also, I had a very carefullyprepared list of topics to discuss, and a new husband wasn’t one of them.”
Okay, maybe he wasn’t a pimp. Did strippers have interviews? Was she being anasshole for questioning whether or not strippers had interviews? Probably, yes,but she had to look out for her client, since his starry-eyed stare at Deeindicated that he was most definitely not looking out for himself.
Wait…Dee? Her job didn’t leave hermuch time to watch television, but on second look, she was sure that sherecognized Dee… Anastasia Dualla, the girl who was starring on some low-rated cableshow. Zombies, or vampires, or something. It wasn’t Stranger Things or Game ofThrones, but it was enough to earn her an invite to the whatever choiceawards Billy was attending this weekend.
She recognized Dee, and then sherecognized the man with Dee. Oh, God. She was on some Disney Channel show. Fora second, Laura fought back a laugh. Her job may suck, but at least she didn’thave to explain to an army of tweens why their squeaky clean star got marriedin Vegas.
Oh, God. Bill Adama. She knew those blue eyes, that was for damn sure. They’dmet before, years ago, when she was still an assistant and he had just landedhis first major client at CAA, and he’d hated her on sight. He’d gotten herfired two weeks after she’d landed her first job on a desk.
That’s what she got for correctinghis grammar in a press release. Still, he owed her a thanks for not making anass of himself in trying to get coverage for Kara Thrace’s first starring role.He may not have known how to use a comma, but she sure as hell did.
It was probably a good 15 years toolate to ask for a thanks at this point.
***
She shouldn’t be impressed becauseBill Adama knew divorce and annulment laws so well, but she couldn’t deny that she wasmore than a little bit relieved. Billy had an appointment with a rep from TomFord for his fitting in an hour, and how sad was it that she was scheduling the termination of his marriagearound a fitting for his tuxedo? Her parents would be rolling over in theirgraves if they could see how the college education they scrimped and saved forwas being put to use.
She could see Bill asking himselfthe same thing as they sat on the conference call with their clients’attorneys, working through the finer points of Nevada law. If she rememberedcorrectly (and she did, which was why she was so successful), Bill’s father hadbeen a top trial lawyer in LA back in the days of OJ and Ramparts.
Bill had a full notepad of notes onBilly and Dee’s marriage. She shouldn’t be impressed, but she was.
He managed to negotiate ashort-term annulment with a few arguments and a little bit of fanfare. They’dhave to show up in Clark County courts in a few weeks, but after a few words infront of a judge, it would all be over with.
If Billy could just let it go. Helooked downright panicked at the thought of an annulment, never mind the factthat he hadn’t let go of Dee’s hand since Laura had first met them in the hotellobby.
Sweet, stupid boy.
She’d demand an extra bonus andmaybe reservations at Half Moon Bay to make up for this shitshow. In themeantime, she shoved Billy out of the judge’s chambers, reminding him that hehad places to be and nominees to read.
It was a little more uncomfortablewhen it was just the two of them waiting in the hallway for the judge’sassistant to make an appointment for the follow-up. She shifted from foot to foot, tryingdesperately to remain calm, cool and collected. He didn’t remember her, and shedesperately wanted to keep it that way.
“Do you want to read over the paperworkand make sure the commas are in order?”
Damnhim.
“Maybe I do.”
Bill dug through his pockets untilhe found a red pen. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”
Oh, he was good. She took the penfrom his hand and used it to mark through the annulment agreement. Alimony, no.NDA, yes…oh God yes, please don’t let anyone find out about this.
Just friends, yes, in the pressrelease. Laura had been just friendswith enough of his one-night stands over the last few years; he could agree tothat for her sake.
He could, and he would, because hewas getting fitted for a tuxedo, and she was signing his name in a Clark Countyjudge’s chambers. She needed a raise.
The judge tried to choke back alaugh as he waved his assistant over to collect the papers. She should havegone to law school; if she could still quote chapter and verse of statemunicipal codes, the judge wouldn’t be laughing.
If she could still quote chapterand verse of state municipal codes, she wouldn’t be here. She’d be in a nice,cushy office with walnut paneling, not staring down Bill Adama in the judge’schambers.
“Come on,” he said, “I’ll buy you adrink.”
Isn’t that how they got in thismess in the first place?
She wanted to shrug his hand offher shoulder, but it had been a long day, and God knew she could use a drink.He was buying, so she wasn’t going to say no.
Besides, he still owed her anapology. If a misused comma derailed this annulment, he’d owe her a lot morethan an apology, but a couple of fruity drinks in the Wynn’s well-stocked barwent a long way to making it up to her.
***
She woke with her pulse pounding inher ears and an undefined, but still somehow clear memory of screwing up spectacularly.
The Advil on the nightstand wouldcure her headache, and she reached out to find the small plastic bottle and theglass of water that she was sure she’d left on the bedside table before she’d passed out the nightbefore, but it would do nothing to erase the arm that was wrapped around her waist.
Advil could cure her headache, butit wasn’t going to help the fact that she wasn’t alone in her bed.
Or that she was definitely surethat she wasn’t wearing underwear.
Or that her left hand had a certaincheap gold accessory that wasn’t there when she’d left the judge’s chambers theday before.
Dammit, she wanted a simple thanksfrom Bill Adama, not a legal commitment! She tried to ease herself out of hisembrace, intent on finding her phone and calling her own attorney, but strongfingers on her hips pulled her back under the covers.
“Not done sleeping yet,” Bill muttered.
She wanted to throw his arm offher; she wanted to scream at him for having the gall to sleep in her bed whenshe more or less remembered telling him to beat it after a couple of fairlyspectacular orgasms a few hours before. She wanted to forget she’d ever come toVegas this weekend.
Mostly, she wanted to be cool, calmand rational Laura Roslin, but she was comfortable swaddled in strong arms andoverpriced hotel sheets, and she was warm with Bill Adama breathing softly intoher neck.
Cool, calm and rational LauraRoslin had a list of things to do for the day.
Naked, happy and tousled LauraRoslin had a man at her back who was slowly stroking her stomach and humming inher ear.
What the hell, it had been yearssince she’d had to clean up her own messes, and Billy and his Disney bride coulddo without her for the day. She laced her fingers in one of Bill’s roaming handsand wiggled herself a little more closely against him.
Not done sleeping at all, if shehad anything to say about it.
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
Day 2 Sequence 1
The chasms at the base of the Barrier Wall stretched down and down into an abyssal black chasm. But the Wall itself towered into the air. A horizontal forest of thick support beams criss-crossed over a canyon-like interior. Air vents cast beams of light through the dusty air, and where their lights couldn’t reach, walls of regularly spaced flood lights illuminated the chasm.
A flight of stairs ran up the Wall from the South Gate Bridge. Raven scaled it, going higher and higher, each flight up taking him deeper into that metal forest. The Barrier Wall was shot through with work platforms and catwalks, forming an unofficial highway around the city. The route Raven was taking lead directly to the Third Precinct. He passed through along the bridges and paths, seeing swarms of Engineers working on the countless pipes and powerlines, scrambling through the beams and along the inner walls of the massive structure. Had the storm really caused such damage, even within the Wall?
Raven’s thoughts were interrupted as an Engineer dropped down from somewhere above and landed onto the catwalk directly in front of him.
“Sorry, mate. Have to see that you take the detour through to the next level,” the engineer said calmly, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He was orange furred with darker orange stripes. A Bestal Nameless with a round cat face and sharp triangular ears on top of his head. His tail swayed slowly left to right, its end occasionally twitching.
“Detour?” Raven asked. “Why, what’s going on?”
“Pipes gone quiggly, ain’t they?” he said, taking a drag on the cigarette. Smoke flowed on his breath as the words escaped. “Big ol knot where the damn things gone and wrapped themselves round the cat. Got the jack lines and some power and maybe a gas line all rooted round one ‘nother. Anyweh, we’re busy tracing the damn things to find the nearest cutoffs so’s we can get it sorted without blowing a hole in the Wall. So ya can’t go this way. I ‘spect you’re on your way to the Third?” Raven had caught most of that, he thought. The Engineer had dark circles under his eyes, visible through his fur, and a half lidded, flat expression. How long had he been working today?
Raven leaned to the side to look past the Engineer. Sure enough there was a huge knot of lines and pipes stretching across the interior of the wall and blocking the path across the catwalk like a spider’s web. Sparks from the power lines, - or were they the jack lines? - crisscrossed and sent small showers of sparks cascading over the knot that seemed as tall as him. He hoped that there were not gas lines in the mix.
Is that why the lines to the outer rim had been down?
“But how -” Raven began, pointing at the mess of lines.
“Some surge from the storm is our best guess. Big ones come through and the knots form faster and get denser.” The Engineer finished his cigarette and flicked it into the chasm below. “On your way then. Can’t be talking to wayward Sweepers all day can I?” He stepped lightly to stand on the catwalk railing, and leapt across the chasm to the nearest beam before ascending higher in a series of leaps. Raven marveled at the agility of city Engineers. He thought back to the pair he had narrowly escaped in the deeps the previous morning and shuddered.
Raven doubled back to the nearest stair and climbed upward to the next catwalk up. He was thankful for the breadth of the platforms over the looming dark. Even in the beams of sunlight and the incandescent glow of the hundreds of floodlights, there was no escaping the blackness below. How high had he climbed? How far down was the ground, and where did the deep shafts begin? He could no longer see the bridge across the South Gate. He thought about what the Engineer had said about the knots in the lines. He knew that they grew wild enough in his neighborhood, but he had never thought about what drove their twisting growth. Did Abby know? He had never asked her. He thought of Carlos, and had the dawning realization of how little he knew about his own city. How much had he taken for granted?
“Raven!” The shout came from somewhere overhead, joyous and piercing. Raven recognized the voice immediately. He looked up searchingly into the mess of support structure and wires and whatever else made the Barrier Wall work. “Raven,” Abby shouted again and then Raven saw her, clambering down a succession of auxiliary beams that Raven wouldn’t have trusted to hold his sword, but which Abby scaled like she knew the weight-bearing capabilities of each inch of metal. (She probably did.) She was short but incredibly strong; it served her well as an engineer. And it was a strength that stretched to her personality as well. Raven had never heard Abby sound so concerned about anything. Maybe she’d be willing to buy him waffles after all?
Her ranting became audible as she descended, the words running together in an unstoppable flow that was as familiar to Raven as his own reflection. “They said you were dead! They said you were dead but I KNEW you were still out there, I KNEW it! I went to meet you after your shift and they said you were gone on a mission and that your team came back without you and Oh Gods they said you were dead! RAVEN!!!”
Abby was only a few feet above him now and Raven felt a smile stretch across his whole face. He was so happy to see her! And she’d been worried! She leapt towards him, arms outstretched, and Raven automatically mirrored her, ready to catch her. He was going to get a hug!
He was mistaken. Abby caught the railing and vaulted forward, drop kicking him square in the gut. The impact sent him stumbling back several steps, winding him. Before he could regain his breath, Abby dismounted and followed up the kick with a punch to the same spot. Somehow, Raven found enough air to groan.
“You absolute IDIOT! You dummy! You colossal doof!” Abby was still shouting and throwing precise, devastating punches to his torso. He was on the ground now. “I should have known you’d do something stupid! I can’t believe I expected a safe first shift from the same fool who can’t do a simple taco run without stopping a shoplifter, interfering with a pub brawl, and rescuing Old Woman Gigi’s cat!”
Indignation gave Raven enough breath to try interrupt, “-those were separate incidents!”
Abby glared with electric blue eyes. Her pointed ears twitched. “Did they or did they not all happen when you were supposed to get tacos?”
“One time it was falafels!” he shouted quickly as he curled into a ball, bracing for another round of her relentless assault.
“FALAFELS!?” she exclaimed. Shifting her shoulders and drawing her massive wrench, she swung it over her head and leveled it at Raven’s. She swung. Raven winced, bracing for the impact. There was none. The wrench, easily as tall as Abby, hovered inches above his head.
“Where’s your helmet?” She asked with a trifle of incredulity.
“ … It … Broke?” He winced again, readying himself.
“Ugh,” she groaned, long and awful, letting the wrench lightly drop onto his head, and then returning it to the holster on her back. “I can’t even count on you to protect your big fat empty head. It’s all just hair with you, isn’t it?” She loomed over his hunched form, her nearly five-foot frame feeling as big as the Wall when she glowered. But she’d put the wrench away for now, so he was, tentatively, safe. Raven patted his long, blue-black hair self-consciously.
Abigail Ratchet was half Nameless on her father’s side. A Gobbish mechanic, Ignatius had married her mother Ursa, who was an Old World Turk and a former Sweeper turned welder. Abby was a foot taller than her father and a foot and a half shorter than her mother, with wild black dread-locked hair that jutted out in jagged kinks and angles. Her mahogany skin glistened with sweat and oil from her work in the beams above. Her white tank top was soaked through and the oil stains and scorch marks from welding patterned her coveralls, the top half of which she had tied around her waist. Her electric blue eyes were bright, alert, manic. How long had she been awake?
“How did you know to find me here?” Raven asked as he struggled against the railing to get to his feet.
“Ugh! Just like you to change the subject. Don’t think you’re getting out of this!” She threw her head back to look at Raven as he stood over her. “I’ve been working top of the Wall. Yesterday morning when I went to pick you up for lunch, they told me you didn’t come back. Your captain was super upset. She said you went like an idiot and locked yourself. in. with. WALKERS!” Her voice echoed through the canyon sides of the Wall interior. She struck him again, hard.
“Well Meri is gonna tear you a new one when you get back, let me tell you. I just knew you would do something stupid like that the first chance you got!” Another blow. Raven barely got his arms up in time to prevent another strike to his stomach. “And since I just KNEW you were too stupid to even DIE properly, I’ve been listening to the ASEC channel to see when you got back. And there you were this morning on the dispatch, all stuttering like the idiot you are and saying you were reporting in through the South Gate, and I knew you’d have to come this way, so I’ve been keeping an eye to see when you’d show up. Then I see Sanza and he’s talking about a Sweeper needing directions and I just KNEW it was you!” She leapt back onto the railing and stood triumphantly over Raven, looking down with bright eyes and a toothy grin.
“Um. Thanks?” Raven stood warily, rubbing his tender stomach. “I tried to call but I was in Southport and we couldn’t get through.”
“Hmph.” Abby snorted. “Well I guess I can’t be mad at that. Radio’s no good through the Wall and all the lines to the Outer Rim went sideways with the storm. We’ll be sorting that out for a few days at least.” Abby wrinkled her nose as she looked downward at the knot of cables that wrapped around the catwalk and surrounding beams below. “So. You’re gonna be heading back to ASEC now?”
“Yeah, I gotta -” Raven was cut off.
A loud bang split the air, followed by a screech and groan of straining metal. Abby and Raven turned to look above them. Another catwalk up from them, Raven could see a pair of strangely dressed figures holding open a large sack, while a third stood with arms outstretched. They wore welding masks, tattered ponchos and baggy rough canvas pants like Engineers. A heavy metal object dropped from above and the Engineer caught it, staggering back with some difficulty, and placed it in the bag. Looking higher, Raven saw another pair with the same strange, tattered garb higher up in the beams on a large crossbeam that supported a massive strut that attached to a gigantic fan above them.
“Wreckers.” Abby said under her breath.
“What -” Raven began to ask.
“WRECKERS!” Abby bellowed. In a moment there came a series of klaxon alarms sounding from below them, filling the great chasm with their blaring wail. Abby grabbed Raven by the wrist and took off at a run up the stair to the catwalk above. Raven stumbled but found his stride, rushing to keep up.
“What’s going -” he started.
“WRECKERS! Abby shouted back without turning. Her voice carried over the klaxons wail. “Those scrap happy donuts are gonna pop the shock absorbers and drop the fan! Help!” she yelled, shooting a glare back over her shoulder at Raven.
“How?” Raven managed to get out without interruption.
Abby stopped as she reached the catwalk, turning down the wide platform to the three Wreckers in their tattered ponchos and masks. She again grabbed Raven and shoved him ahead of her. “See those guys? They’re bad. Those jerks are stealing parts and breaking everything to get ‘em!” Raven looked closer and saw two more sacks apart from the one that was being loaded. “Stop them and get those bags back!” Abby snapped as she mounted the railing and took off at a run.
“What are you doing?” Raven shouted as he drew his axe and started at a sprint towards the trio of Wreckers.
“I gotta make sure those jerks at the strut don’t unfasten any more nuts!”
Abby leapt from the railing to the outer side of the Wall, running up the exterior wall and kicking off into another long leap to a nearby beam. She caught one of the smaller pipes running along the crossbeams and swung upward into a somersault onto a beam above. She made a quick turn and dashed along it, upward at the slant and then jumping to another. She stepped off the beam in a swift movement and dashed along a narrow hanging pipeline until she was within one last leap to the beam supporting the massive strut.
The Barrier Wall was lined with fans at various intervals. Massive, hundred ton behemoths, cycling air into and out of the inner ring. Each fan was held in place by similarly colossal struts, built to absorb their constant vibrations and support the fans against the powerful winds that battered the upper heights of the Wall. The Wreckers had been at work removing the large nuts that held together the fastening bolts, which in turn connected the beam that supported one of those struts. Now, the beam was beginning to split. The fan was going to fall.
Abby stood on another beam, observing, while the wind whipped around her. The massive fan was slow but powerful, and the crosswind blew cold through the Wall. Abby, a skilled Engineer, only noticed it so much as it affected her footing. She unholstered her wrench and hefted it, deftly balancing in the cool wind. The Wreckers on the beam remained focused on undoing the bolts, and had not yet noticed her or the klaxon. She scowled.
With a mad dash, she leapt forward to the next beam, dropping her wrench back into an overhead swing. At last, one of the Wreckers caught sight of her and ducked. The other wasn’t so quick, and took the full blow to their mask. The flimsy covering crumpled and the Wrecker tumbled backwards and fell into the chasm. Abby didn’t spare a moment’s thought to them. She swung again, narrowly missing the second Wrecker as they dodged and leapt back. Cornered, the wrecker drew a blowtorch and waved it frantically, flames narrowly missing Abby’s face. Abby ducked low and threw her weight into a sharp sweep of her leg at the Wrecker’s footing, but they leapt in a forward somersault over her and scrambled away down the beam, leaping onto the fan strut and taking the long jump to the vent to the outside of the wall. It would be suicide for anyone else, but Abby knew that the Wreckers were as agile as Engineers, and would be prepared to safely make their way down the outside of the Wall. Hells, scaling the Wall was almost certainly how they had infiltrated in the first place. Her attention snapped back to the loosened nuts on the remaining bolts.
She scanned the beam and surrounding supports. All but the most essential fastenings to keep the struts and Fan in place were loosened, or stripped of the nuts and bolts that held the strut supports in place. Just how long had the Wrecker crew been at work unchecked that morning? She rushed to tighten the bolt they had been working on, quickly calibrating her wrench and slamming it into place. She put her weight into the torque on the large wrench, ratcheting the bolt quickly. She could feel the beam groaning beneath her feet. The nuts and bolts that the Wreckers had stolen would need to be returned as soon as possible. She looked down and hoped that Raven would succeed.
Down below the beam that supported the fan strut, Raven swung wide with the back of his blade. He had distracted the Wreckers and chased them away from their bounty, but they danced around him easily, deftly evading the swings of his axe.
“RAVEN!” Abby yelled. “Quit screwing around down there and get the bags!”
His brow furrowed with irritation. What did she think he was doing? He charged again and brought his axe down hard where one of the Wreckers had landed on the platform railing before once again leaping away out of the reach of the axe. Raven heard the groaning of the beam above and felt a desperate urgency. There was no time. And then he remembered something. What was it Marie had said? Good guys are not always nice guys? He thought of Carlos and the Griefer destroyer. Pops hadn’t fought fair. But their enemy had brought guns against a town full of civilians recovering from a ruinstorm. Where did a fair fight fit into any of that? Was that what Marie had been trying to tell him?
He pulled a flare from his belt and, before he could second guess himself, drew the flat of his axe up to his face to shield his eyes and set off the flare in the midst of the Wreckers. Raven heard them cry out in surprise. With his eyes closed tight against the light, he swung out and swept them off their feet. He heard the clank of the bag falling to the platform, heard the swish of clothing slipping over the platform rail. He missed his helmet.
Squinting in the blinding white light, Raven saw the masked Wreckers, two remaining, struggling to get to their feet. Raven again was conscious of the slow groan of the metal above him and he looked up for a moment to see the massive fan overhead. These Wreckers didn’t care if it fell. They were going to get people hurt. And that was all he needed to know. He rushed at the two of them and flipped his axe to swing hard with the blunt back of the blade. He felt it connect with a crack and a crunch as he knocked against the heads of the two Wreckers. One fell backwards over the railing, the other, not hit by the full force of the blow, staggered back and braced themselves against the railing. Raven could see a glaring eye looking back at him through a broken mask.
It took only a moment of hesitation on Raven’s par for the Wrecker to flip backwards onto the railing and take a leap to the beam above. Raven watched with a mixture of awe and irritation as the acrobatic saboteur took a series of leaps upward and slipped away though the fan vent that led to the outside of the Wall.
Raven was feeling a lot of things. But there was no time to focus on them; Abby was yelling again, and not in a nice way. He turned back to the abandoned bags and began rooting through them. A stack of nuts emerged and he went to work. He grabbed the one on top and tossed it up, trusting Abby to catch it. She did with an ease and grace he was quietly amazed by. He watched her spin it back into place, then grabbed the next. The fan and surrounding platforms began to shake.
Abby was just about to start panicking. Then Sanza was there, grabbing the next nut from Raven. Someone else picked up the other abandoned bags. The surrounding beams started to fill with Engineers. The klaxon had done its work, at least. More hands joined Abby, grabbing the nuts Raven threw up to them and rushing to the weakened struts. The metal still groaned unhappily, but it was quieting and the shaking had begun to still.
It took nearly a half hour before things were set to right. After the arrival of the rest of the Engineering Corp, Raven had been sidelined. There really wasn’t much for him to do, but he felt like leaving without at least letting Abby know would be impolite. Plus, someone might need him to, to lift something really heavy. In the meanwhile, he tried to keep out of the way.
He saw Abby a little ways away. She was talking to a group of people who looked very official. Probably debriefing, something he needed to be ready to do soon. He wondered if the Engineering Corps would need a statement from him.
Soon, Abby was stomping towards him, cursing up a ruinstorm.
“What’s wrong? Did they not believe it was Wreckers? Do you need me to talk to them? I’m a Sweeper, my word’s gotta count for something, right?”
Abby looked at him like she was thinking of hitting him again but couldn’t find the energy. “It’s fine, dummy. I’m pissed because those garbage chomping, rust munching, thieves got away! I hope their mothers drown in battery acid.”
“Well, it was only the two who escaped,” Raven said, trying to console her.
“That’s three too many!” she countered, and ignored his murmured that doesn’t even make sense, Abby. “They’re getting bolder, too. I hate that!”
“Bolder?” Raven asked. A shiver of intuition made him perk up. “You mean this is, what, an escalation?”
Abby grunted a vague affirmation, her attention focused on her coworkers as they scaled the interior of the Wall. There were Engineers everywhere, checking every point of connection and testing the integrity of the surrounding beams. “We’re going to be at this forever,” she groaned dismally.
“Abby, what did you mean the Wreckers are getting bolder?”
“Just what I said! I mean, they’re always causing trouble along the Wall, grabbing whatever isn’t welded down when no one’s looking. Sometimes we’d even let them! Easier than just chucking all of the lines and pipes that we have to cut out when they get squiggly. It’s irritating, but part of the job. Lately, though…. I dunno, it’s like they have a shopping list or something. They’re going after bigger pieces of metal. Specific pieces of metal. Used to be, they’d just grab any old thing that might be lying around…” she trailed off.
“Huh,” Raven said eloquently. This felt like something...big. And he’d already seen a lot of big things. Had the world always been like this? He thought of Pops again.
Kid. The whole city is always in danger.
But he had said something else too. There were several hundred Sweepers taking care of things. He now saw that there were far more than that, counting the Engineering Corps and who knows how many others. Carlos, Marie, and seemingly the entire town of Southport. The City held together because of how many people stepped up to protect it.
He had to report in.
0 notes
Link
Adequate light is the most important factor that should be considered when growing marijuana plants.
Just like using nutrients made for cannabis, quality light should be well supplied to your plants to enable proper growth.
To produce more cannabis buds, light is your secret weapon.
Using the correct wavelengths of light also ensures that the cannabis buds will be as potent as possible.
Cannabis is very light-sensitive, there is a need to adjust the light intensity, color, and frequency for each of its growth stages.
This emulates the natural conditions found in nature.
This is the reason indoor growers tend to buy a full-color spectrum of lights for their plants to maximize their budding and growing abilities.
In this article, we will answer the question of how does the light color spectrum impact growing cannabis. Let’s get started already, shall we?
The Light Color Spectrum
When we see a rainbow we are amazed at the beauty of all the colors. Rainbows are formed when white light is dispersed through water vapor. This refracted light breaks up into the individual colors that make up white light. Each one of these colors in the rainbow has a wavelength.
These different wavelengths of visible light are what make up the colors we see. The visual spectrum of light contains wavelengths that range from 700nm at the red end down to 400nm at the violent edge. “nm” stands for nanometers.
The reason things have color is that an object will absorb some wavelengths of light while reflecting others.
So for example, a green leaf will absorb all colors of light except for green. The green wavelength is reflected and we see that as color.
Black and white are not considered colors, they refer to shade and brightness. Black objects absorb all of the visible light spectra while white objects reflect it. This is why dark objects get hot faster on a sunny day, they absorb more light energy and give it off as heat.
I hope you’re still following me here. Light and color are two really interesting science topics. I encourage you to learn more about them if sciency stuff is your thing. This is a fairly basic explanation, but understanding how light and color work will help you make more informed choices when it comes to growing lights.
This chart shows what wavelengths of light chlorophyll A and B absorb from the light spectrum.
Chlorophyll A is the primary pigment used for photosynthesis. A will absorb violet-blue and orange-red light energy.
Chlorophyll B works as an accessory pigment that increases the amount of the light spectrum the plant can use as energy. It absorbs more blue light energy.
This chart shows an example of the different intensities of wavelength of the visible spectrum of daylight. Of course this will change on any given day and depend on the time of the season.
When the sun is lower in the horizon for longer periods (late summer and fall), plants receive more of the red and orange wavelengths.
These colors naturally trigger a plants ability to flower and produce fruit in an attempt to propagate before the cold winter months.
How Light Color Affects the Growth of Cannabis Plants?
There are lots of grow lights on the market and each has its pros and cons. If you have taken the time to pay keen attention, you will discover that many of these lights will offer different colors of light. This can sometimes be referred to as light temperature.
Natural sunlight provides the entire light spectrum. As the year moves along and seasons change the amount of wavelength energy changes. In the summer sunlight is heavy with green and blue wavelengths, while in the fall because of the shorter days and the sun being lower in the sky, it will give off more red light.
This change in wavelength intensity and duration is what tells plants and animals to prepare for seasonal changes. Cannabis plants are no exception.
Three Types of Common Grow Lights
Cool White CFL Bulb
A great light for young cuttings and seedlings. The cool white varieties provide lots of blue spectrum light that promote new growth. These lights put out about 50 watts of energy which is inadequate for large scale cannabis growing but great for starting plants in smaller home grows.
Blue Red LED
These common LED light arrays usually range in power output from 100 watts to 1000. They provide lots of light energy at a smaller energy footprint than more traditional grow lights. Many come with a switch that will turn on more red light LED to help promote flowering.
HPS (High Pressure Sodium)
These lights gives off plenty of red, orange, and yellow light energy. This makes them perfect to use during the flowering phase when these wavelengths help with flowering.
When growing indoors you’re trying your best to emulate the perfect outdoor conditions. Each phase of a plant’s growth (from vegetative to flowering stage) is being exposed to various wavelengths of light to maintain the process of photosynthesis and bud formation. Understanding the natural changes in sunlight and how plants react can help you improve your growing skills.
For better clarity, let’s look at the various colors along the light spectrum, their corresponding wavelengths and how they impact marijuana plants. They include:
Ultraviolet Spectrum
Ultraviolet or UV light has a wavelength that ranges from 10nm to 400nm; this type of light energy is known to be harmful to human skin when they are exposed to it. Our bodies react by developing a tan in an attempt to block light from further damaging skin cells.
UV light in large amounts can also damage plants.
Two types of UV rays exist; UV-A (315-400nm) and UV-B (280-315nm).
UV-A is considered harmful to marijuana plants. Regardless of its harmfulness (not just to cannabis but other plants as well), plants have evolved a natural defense mechanism against UV lights by secreting of enzymes, antioxidants, and chemicals to prevent more damage. However, at greater concentration, it’s still damaging to the plant.
UV-B on the other hand, when compared to UV-A, is far less harmful to cannabis plants. UV-B light seems to have a positive effect on cannabis plant growth. More research needs to be done to determine what the exact benefits are, but numerous growers swear that feeding plants UV-B light improves growth, flavor, and potency.
There are grow lights now which offer a full spectrum of visible light; that also includes infrared light and UV-B.
Violet Spectrum
Violet light is on the bottom end of the visual light spectrum. Its wavelength ranges from 380nm to 450nm. This range of light is considered to improve color, potency, and taste of flowers. Violet light isn’t a major growth factor compared to blue and red spectrum light.
“Blurples”
Many LED grow lamps will give off light that looks purple. These types of lamps are fondly known as blurples.
You would be wrong to think this was light from only the violet wavelength. Each LED bulb is designed to shine a specific wavelength of light. To maximize efficiency the entire lamp is made up of specific wavelengths LEDs that are connected to plant growth.
Blue and red are the most predominant but sometimes other wavelengths like UVB and white light are added in smaller numbers. When you combine red and blue light our eyes see the color purple.
Blurple LED lights give off very little of the violet wavelength.
Blue Spectrum
The blue spectrum of light is very important for cannabis plant growth. This wavelength lies between 450nm and 495nm. This color of light is best used at the sprout and vegetative stage of growth as it promotes rapid growth and development of the plant.
Outdoors during spring blue light energy is abundant. This is a natural trigger for new growth. It also keeps marijuana plants stable by helping them grow a strong stem and aids in the process of photosynthesis. Plants that are blue light deficient often turn out pale or yellow and are often weak flopping over under their weight.
Blue light can easily and quickly be supplemented by using cool white fluorescent bulbs, but most LED and alternative grow lights will provide blue light as well.
This graph shows the available light spectrum on a Mars Hydro LED (Mars Reflector 192).
As you can see it gives off a lot of blue and orange-red light. Fantastic for both veg and flower.
This graph shows the available light spectrum on the newer Mars Hydro LEDs that provide a more complete light spectrum (TSW 2000).
As you can see it gives off much more green and yellow light.
Green Spectrum
This spectrum of light plays a role (albeit minor) in the growth of marijuana plants at various stages. Its wavelength ranges from 495nm to 570nm.
Cannabis plants absorb very little green light energy, but there are reports that small amounts can affect growth.
For most growers, green light isn’t necessary for a successful grow. But, If you feel like growing cannabis with lights that have a more complete spectrum of color then a little bit of green energy is a big yes.
One thing that’s great about green light and cannabis is that it doesn’t trigger flowering. Cannabis is very sensitive to light and dark cycles. A small amount of light during the night period could trick your plants in thinking it’s time to flower. Cannabis doesn’t “see” green light making it the perfect color of light to use if you want to work on your plants during the night period.
Yellow Spectrum
Yellow light energy has a wavelength that ranges from 570nm to 590nm. It is of little importance during photosynthesis but yellow/red light is essential for the flowering stage of the plant’s growth as it promotes budding.
Besides its usefulness in budding and flowering, it’s of very little use to the plant during the vegetative growth stage. Yellow light energy on its own is a minor contributor to photosynthesis.
Red Spectrum
The final color on the visible light spectrum is red. It has a wavelength that ranges from 620nm to 750nm. This light is necessary during the flowering stage of marijuana plants. Adding red light induces budding and flowering. Many cannabis growers will switch to a stronger red light source once their plant gets to the flowering stage. Red light mixed with blue gets the best response from cannabis plants.
What’s The Difference Between Cool and Warm Light?
You may hear people refer to light as either “cool” or “warm”. This describes the colors of the spectrum going from violet to red. Cool colors are on the lower end of the light spectrum (violet, blue, green), while warm colors are on the higher end (yellow, orange, red).
What’s the best color light to use for cannabis seedlings
A seedling will respond best to blue light. Sprouts will stretch and grow tall if there’s not enough blue light available. Not much light power is needed at this stage since the plants are so small. Many growers will use 50 watt cool white CFL bulbs specifically for their seedlings and cuttings.
What’s the best color light to use for growing cannabis
During the vegetative stage of cannabis growth, plants react well to lots of blue light. It’s important to also provide some red light too. The combination of blue and red light is the recipe for growth.
What’s the best color light to use for flowering cannabis
Switching your plants over to light that is heavier in the orange/red part of the light spectrum will help induce flowering as well as improve it. Don’t drop the blue light altogether, it’s still required but in slightly smaller amounts than red and orange light.
The Bottom Line About Light and Cannabis
Nothing beats natural sunlight. Cannabis plants can grow huge outdoors in the right sunny conditions.
Growlights only give off a fraction of the light energy the sun provides. Using limited spectrum lights are adequate for indoor growing. Blue light and red light will successfully grow a cannabis plant without any problems.
Using grow lights that provide a fuller spectrum of visual light will have an affect on the plant and usually results in a bigger yield. Your decision on using different types of light will depend on your unique situation. If you’re thinking of upgrading your lights, try going for something that better emulates the sun like full spectrum lights made for growing plants.
Thanks For Reading
The importance of cannabis to humans cannot be underestimated. It not only slows down cancer cells from spreading, prevents Alzheimer’s disease, treats glaucoma, relieves arthritis but solves a whole lot of other medical issues. Even the act of growing cannabis can bring a great sense of well being.
It takes a lot of different factors to grow good weed and light is a biggie. I hope this article helped you understand how light and cannabis work together. Feel free to ask any questions below.
Light is just one key factor for successful cannabis growing. Learn even more secrets to success with our free 40+ page guide full of images. Get your today!
This guide will answer many questions about growing cannabis, like the following…
Selecting Seeds
Building The Right Environment
Maximize Yield
Much More…
Please enable JavaScript in your browser to complete this form.
Name *
Email *
Email
Download Now
The post How Does The Color Spectrum Affect Growing Cannabis Plants? appeared first on Reefertilizer.
0 notes
Photo
If You Want to Know What it is Really Like to Raise a Backyard Flock!
Whether you are just getting started with chickens or have more than you can count, this book will answer questions that you didn't even know to ask. The author, Melissa Caughey has a magical way of sharing her common sense approach to raising chickens, in a way that is easy for anyone to understand.
Go to Amazon
Be Careful What You Say to Your Chickens
I picked this up at a local feed store while I was waiting to get my chicken feed loaded into my truck. When I checked Amazon for it, I found it available on Kindle and saved a bunch of cash buying it that way. It's a good book for novices to backyard pet chickens and would be very interesting for children, too. I used one of the techniques suggested and that was to imitate sounds that your chickens make. I imitated my rooster, who apparently was offended by what I said and he came at me. I did it again, and so did he. Moral of the story is that this book is so on point that I no longer imitate the rooster.
Go to Amazon
Title is a little deceptive.
I expected this book to be all about figuring out how to 'communicate' with your chickens by learning their body language and some of the basic vocalizations they make. There was only one or two pages of that. Most of this book was chicken facts, which I'll be honest, I didn't know some of the things in the book but still not exactly what I was expecting.
Go to Amazon
More than just chicken-speak
This is a beautiful little book. It is definitely worth purchasing the “paperback,” which is actually heavy duty glossy pages, over the kindle version. Rather than just another book about chicken care (illness, egg development, housing), Melissa delves into both the mind and brain of a chicken. Their behavior both as an individual and a member of the flock, how their brains processes the world around them, even the emotions they show with one another. I was afraid the book was mostly going to be opinion based on the author’s observations of her own flock. Rather, it was a fascinating compilation of facts drawn from a variety of scientific sources (some listed in the back) with examples she believes to have seen in her own flock. Being both a science-minded person and animal lover, this book is delightful.
Go to Amazon
Shorter than I spected
Being a follower of the Tilly's nest page and having learnt a lot from there, I thought this book will be a summary of the topics in the web page. But literally this book is about how to speak chicken and how to try to understand chicken language. What I didn't like was the inserts where other people who keep chickens talks about their experience. I want to read what Melissa has to say about her chickens, and it's already a short book to include interviews with other people. I would recommend this book to fans of tilly's nest.
Go to Amazon
Have fun with this. Light reading.
A lot of good information
You need to know
Crazy Chicken Ladies
Best pet chicken book!
Five Stars
Do you have a chicken name?
Delightful look into life with chickens
Five Stars
You Don't Know What You Don't Know
0 notes
Text
Prostate Cancer Minimally Invasive Surgery Market Lead By Increase in Elderly Male Population
Prostate cancer is reportedly the second most fatal type of cancer among men after lung cancer. In 2010 alone over 1.9 million people were diagnosed with prostate cancer. The minimally invasive prostate cancer market in North America and Europe is primarily driven by the rising incidence of prostate cancer, states a report by Transparency Market Research. The report is titled “Prostate Cancer Minimally Invasive Surgery Market in North America and Europe (2011 – 2016)”.According to the report, the North America and Europe prostate cancer minimally invasive surgery market was valued at US$14.2 billion in 2011 and this market is estimated to grow at a strong CAGR of 11.9% from 2011 to 2016. If the CAGR holds true, the regional prostate cancer minimally invasive surgery market will be worth US$24.9 billion by 2016.
Browse the full Prostate Cancer Minimally Invasive Surgery Market in North America and Europe (2011 - 2016) report a http://www.transparencymarketresearch.com/prostat-cancer-minimal-invasive-surgery-market.html
The report states that Whites and African Americans are most affected by prostate cancer, with factors such as heredity, old age, obesity, high inclusion of red meat in diet, infection of the prostate gland, and smoking identified as causes of prostate cancer. Prostate cancer is categorized into four stages depending upon its severity: stage I, stage II, stage III, and stage IV. The diagnosis of prostate cancer includes a number of methods such as lymph node biopsy, CT scan and MRI, bone scan, PET and SPECT scans, prostate biopsy, digital rectal exam (DRE), prostascint monoclonal antibody scan, prostate-specific antigen (PSA) blood test, and ultrasound.
By technique, the prostate cancer minimally invasive surgery market is divided into robotic surgery, brachytherapy, cryosurgery, and laparoscopic surgery. Robotic surgery has revolutionized the prostate cancer treatment scenario and this segment led the overall market, being identified as the most significant innovation of the decade in the field. The adoption of surgical robots in minimally invasive surgeries has increased in Europe and North America owing to the many advantages they present. Surgical robots enable increased control during surgical procedures, speedier recovery time and therefore shorter hospital stay, dexterity to surgeons, and reduce the risk of side effects of prostate cancer surgery such as impotency. The one factor that hinders the growth of this segment is its high cost. Today, the price of a surgical robot is nearly US$1.5 million.
Download Exclusive Brochure of This Report :
http://www.transparencymarketresearch.com/sample/sample.php?flag=S&rep_id=1
In terms of surgical devices, the market for prostate cancer minimally invasive surgery is segmented into monitoring and visualizing devices, endosurgical equipment, lasers, and others. Among these, the segment of monitoring and visualizing devices dominated the market in North America and Europe.The prostate cancer minimally invasive surgery market is stimulated by the rise in elderly male populations in both North America and Europe, availability of innovative treatment options, and the massive advantage that this procedure has over other traditional methods. However, high risk of side effects, lack of technological knowledge in some areas, and inefficiency of surgeons in treating advanced-stage prostate cancer are expected to hinder the growth of the market.
Some of the prominent players in the prostate cancer minimally invasive surgery market are Carefusion Corporation, Boston Scientific Corporation, Ethicon Endo Surgery, Covidien, and Intuitive Surgical. These companies held more than 80% of the market in North America and Europe in 2010.
About Us
Transparency Market Research (TMR) is a market intelligence company, providing global business information reports and services. Our exclusive blend of quantitative forecasting and trends analysis provides forward-looking insight for thousands of decision makers. TMR’s experienced team of analysts, researchers, and consultants, use proprietary data sources and various tools and techniques to gather, and analyze information. Our business offerings represent the latest and the most reliable information indispensable for businesses to sustain a competitive edge.
Each TMR syndicated research report covers a different sector – such as pharmaceuticals, chemicals, energy, food & beverages, semiconductors, med-devices, consumer goods and technology. These reports provide in-depth analysis and deep segmentation to possible micro levels. With wider scope and stratified research methodology, TMR’s syndicated reports strive to provide clients to serve their overall research requirement.
US Office Contact
90 State Street, Suite 700
Albany, NY 12207
Tel: +1-518-618-1030
USA – Canada Toll Free: 866-552-3453
Email: [email protected]
Website: www.transparencymarketresearch.com
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
marobyjuana
Kill Me
lonelychicagos
a bit lonely
bestthingsiread
The Best Things I Read Today
tet-oh
Some Photos to Remember
dont-read-the-latin
in an open field, man is guilty always.くコ:彡