#the copious amounts of woods info
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Playing With Fire
a/n: This one-shot was written to fulfill a prompt, one that I saved until the right inspiration hit 😏 Thanks to the anon who sent this in many moons ago! I saw you, and I’m finally prepared to deliver.
Nesta meets Cassian when she was human, still engaged to Thomas, before Feyre. They start a thing and then meet each other when Feyre visits her. (smut please)
combined with this prompt I received for kinktober from @moodymelanist 💕
Maybe some handcuffing/tied up action. Up to you who gets tied up and who’s in charge 👀
So, here it is— set in canon, shameless Nessian smut where Nesta is still human and neither of them have any good sense or control as it pertains to the other. Verbal sparring included.
Warning(s): strong language, smut, mentions of infidelity——————————————————————————
Food in the human realm was always so bland. The company, however, never was.
Tense silence wasn’t uncommon for these dinners. The words they lacked at times always came back around in bursts of ire or mirth, but which one was always uncertain. Sometimes, it was both.
One thing he was always sure to do was keep an eye trained on Nesta Archeron. She was as elegant as ever, tempting in the most depraved ways, and even more so because he couldn’t have her. Not legitimately, anyway.
Before these routine visits to the Archeron estate, Cassian hadn’t been a stranger to their part of the world. As irony would have it, his path had crossed with Nesta Archeron’s several times before Feyre had entered their lives in the Night Court, and he had no way of knowing at the time that their initial encounter would prove to make things complicated.
Mostly because he hadn’t been able to stay away ever since.
Cassian had been in the human realm gathering intel on the Night Court’s behalf, collecting what little scraps of info he could regarding the tensions among the Courts and with Hybern. Azriel and his team were up to their ears in leads, and Cassian had agreed to assess the few in that particular corner of the world in order to help his brother the best he could. He’d landed to rest his wings after flying for so many hours, he’d lost count. A small creek ran within the trees, and he had just knelt along its edge to splash water over his face when a twig snapped nearby.
With a predator’s focus, he whirled around. It was the first time he’d locked eyes with Nesta, and looking back, it was the first time she’d struck him a little stupid. Like an amateur, he’d blinked at her for seconds until she’d broken the silence, demanding to know who he was and what business he had in their woods.
At the time, he’d been impressed with her nerve. For a human to lift her chin in quiet defiance and dare to demand answers from him was a far cry from his usual encounters, and he’d been in awe of her ever since.
Their initial conversation was a bit of a blur, but after offering to help her carry the firewood she hauled in her slender arms, Nesta’s walls had crumbled infinitesimally. It had surprised him when she recommended he adjust his camp site by a few dozen paces to place him within the borders of her family’s private property. The only thing she asked in return was his silence, and Cassian hadn’t been keen to bring attention to himself in the first place.
For the few days he’d camped there, he’d offered a lending hand in any heavy lifting required to earn his keep. Most of the time it involved copious amounts of firewood, and since he was no stranger to preparing for the frigid winters of Illyria, assisting Nesta with the task was almost negligible.
Cassian had told her he meant to earn the safety of his campsite, but in truth, he wasn’t interested in any unnecessary distance between himself and this elegant and brutal puzzle who barely humored him in casual conversation. It wasn’t for his lack of trying.
The first time he had seen that intoxicating and addicting spark flash within her blue eyes, he’d been a goner. Somehow, he’d goaded her into a loaded debate around the prejudices between humans and the Fae, among the lower and High Fae. That moment, sitting near the small campfire they’d stacked together at his tent, Nesta’s face had flashed with equal parts ire and need after a particularly blunt point Cassian had made.
Her lips were against his before he had a moment to process, and as someone who was rarely caught off-guard, he had faked his composure well enough. Despite never having been with a human woman, his blood roared in a way that had him staggering forward to press his body to hers.
They’d made it into his modest tent before their clothes had been shed with little finesse. Everything about the physical was different with her, and it took an extraordinary amount of self-control to remember to master his intensity enough to keep her safe.
A sharp cough and kick to his ankle brought him back to the present. Azriel eyed him curiously from the chair next to Cassian, his keen expression asking a hundred questions without the man uttering a word. His shadows danced over his shoulders, a bit more chaotic than usual, and Cassian wondered if they were the reason for Az’s check-in. Nosy little bastards.
“I’m good,” he murmured, shoving his food around with his fork.
He wasn’t good, not fine at all. Sitting near Nesta and treating her like a mere acquaintance was chipping away at his sanity in a way that had his heart pounding against the inside of his chest, and Azriel didn’t seem ignorant enough for his liking.
“You don’t look well,” Feyre remarked, her blue eyes round with concern. Cassian hated all the lies he committed by omission, especially when Feyre was so open and kind with him, but what was he supposed to say?
I met your sister months ago and slept with her. I wish that was the only time, but I came back more than once before I even knew you. Never mind the times I’ve traveled alongside you and Rhys. I’ve ended up in her chambers every time, her fiancé be damned.
To his credit, he hadn’t known Nesta was engaged the first time he’d bedded her. She’d moved with such purpose and claimed him so thoroughly that it should have been more obvious that she’d been seeking some level of control, but he couldn’t think on that too long without entertaining what happened to make her crave it.
“I’m tired, Fey,” he lied, his lips stretching into a confident smile. “It’s been a long day with travel.”
Rhys swirled the wine in his glass and shot an amused glance in Cassian’s direction. “I winnowed you most of the way.”
Cassian’s head snapped back in a laugh, and the rest joined him. He didn’t begrudge Rhys for his teasing, and he forgot it altogether when he dropped his chin to find Nesta’s eyes fixed over his throat.
“Maybe,” he drawled, dragging his eyes away from Nesta to address Rhys, “but you’re taxing enough in your own right.”
They shared a laugh and quieted down to continue their meal. Cassian took a long pull of his wine and felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up at the sound of Nesta’s cool voice.
“I assume the food isn’t to your tastes. Again.”
Always with this, he thought. He couldn’t help the fact that he was Fae and experienced food differently, no more than Nesta could help that she was human.
A fact he was reminded of every time he thought of her in any capacity.
“Ah, Sweetheart,” he said lazily, propping his elbow on the back of the empty chair to his other side. “The food is fine. You know my tastes are especially particular.”
Her cheeks flushed, but he held her eyes as long as she’d let him. She would likely have his balls for being so outrightly suggestive, but he was half a beat from handing them over most of the time anyway.
With a dismissive clearing of her throat, Nesta’s attention turned to her own goblet of wine. A satisfied smirk tugged at Cassian’s mouth for the rest of the meal.
Everyone was tired by the end of dessert, and Cassian was close to boiling from the inside out with the way his blood thrummed through his veins. Each of them made their ways to their respective rooms with minimal fuss.
Blessedly, Azriel offered to do first patrol of the grounds— something Cassian was happy to accept. Az was restless at night and never settled down at the same time, so anticipating his moves was difficult. If he did first patrol, at least Cassian was aware of when he’d returned to their room. The chances of him leaving after that were slim.
If Cassian was tasked with patrol first, things were more complicated. He had to be hyper aware of the time being that Az would go looking for him if he was gone too long. The problem was anticipating how long his brother was content to wait before going after him. The last thing he needed was Azriel’s shadows swooping into his business and scandalizing their master for the rest of time with what they found.
So yes, the offer from his brother was a blessing straight from the Cauldron.
Waiting for him to return was another matter in and of itself, never mind the need to seem unaffected by the delay in the face of someone who conducted spy work for their court. Azriel didn’t turn a knowing gaze toward him when they switched off, and that was an improvement from dinner only hours before. If Az noticed anything amiss with Cassian, he had the decency to keep it to himself.
Cassian flew his laps over the Archeron estate, his eyes scanning the grounds as well as a few yards beyond the perimeter in case anything lurked within the forest. Nothing seemed obviously out of the ordinary, but he made an additional lap to be sure.
On his final pass, his eyes lingered on the flicker of candlelight spilling from an all too familiar window. The balcony doors were slightly ajar, the long curtains tucked tightly against each other. They billowed in the wind, and Cassian adjusted his wings to angle in their direction as if summoned by some silent beacon.
His boots were quiet on the cobblestones. He thanked the Cauldron for small mercies since it offered him several moments to catch his breath and steady his nerves. Shaking his head, he suppressed a laugh at his own expense for being torn up over a human woman that he saw infrequently at best. He squared his shoulders and gripped one of the curtains between his calloused fingers, easing it open and tucking his wings tight to avoid snagging the delicate fabric.
He felt her presence before his eyes landed on her form, sitting at the vanity nearby. As usual, she kept her attention fixed resolutely on her task and avoided eye contact altogether. Cassian would have been offended if not for his preternatural hearing picking up the way her breath hitched and her heart sped up at realizing his presence. He refused to preen considering those same physiological responses accompanied a myriad of emotions, though.
Cassian dragged his eyes away and channeled his focus on shutting the balcony doors quietly. When they were properly secured, he pulled the curtains tight and turned toward Nesta with a lump in his throat.
Her shoulders rolled with the effort of removing her shawl. She hadn’t worn it at dinner, but with the stubborn chill within her chambers, Cassian assumed she’d grabbed it in defense of the cold.
Nesta had been waiting for him, he realized. It didn’t come as a total surprise, but his brain was usually inclined to assume she found their dalliances more convenient than something worth delaying a warm bath on a cold night.
She cleared her throat, the sound prim somehow. “I assume all is well around the estate.”
“All clear,” he responded, humoring her need for small talk. Both knew he wasn’t there for the scintillating conversation or an update on the grounds, but he would allow her the pretense.
Nesta turned around, her shoulders back and her chin high— a queen in every sense of the word. Some dark part of Cassian loved that he knew what it meant to dishevel her, to watch her lose that carefully crafted presentation she gave to everyone else. The thought made his blood heat and his tongue a bit bolder.
“Would you rather I stand here, or will you invite me to sit?” He gestured lazily toward the bench at the foot of her bed. “I don’t know the rules for how we’re playing things tonight.”
Nesta scoffed, but he swore her eyes twitched slightly at the corners in amusement. “Sit, if you’d like,” she said, but no trace of the hostess was present in her tone. “Don’t drag any mud across the rug.”
Cassian walked casually over to the bench and lowered his considerable weight while listening for any creaks that hinted to issues of integrity. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He offered his widest smile and bent forward to loosen the laces of his leather boots. Setting them neatly to the side, he stretched his wings and rested an elbow atop his thigh. Nesta’s eyes darted to his forearm, trailing to where his hand hanged casually between his legs, and he couldn’t resist shooting a wink her way.
“We meet again.”
Nesta’s tone was unimpressed. “It would appear so.”
Each of their ill-planned meet-ups flashed through Cassian’s mind like some kind of highlight reel of hedonistic decisions. Her nails against his back. How the estate’s old storage shed creaked with their weight pressed against the aging wall. The little gasp of air she took when he raked his teeth over her throat. How his callused palm rasped over the delicate wallpaper of the nearby inn as he pushed into her from behind. The indulgent groan she allowed herself when he entered her.
Cassian barely suppressed an actual shake of his head to clear the thoughts away. “A warm welcome as always,” he drawled.
Patience a thing of the past, Nesta walked toward him, yet stopped several feet away. She clasped her fingers together and lowered them over her skirts, a portrait of the inconvenienced.
“Do you expect me to believe you’re here for company and tea?” she bit.
“I think we both know why I’m here, Sweetheart.”
Nesta cheeks reddened in irritation, but Cassian had always loved the way the blush crept over her face. He straightened as she closed the distance, bringing them almost eye to eye. Too bad they’d never see the world that way— not if their usual interactions were any indication.
“You’re presumptuous—“
“I’ve been right so far,” he interrupted with a smirk, and he wondered how much restraint it took for Nesta to allow his head to stay on his shoulders.
“— and insufferable. I don’t know why I continue to entertain this song and dance, nor why I engage in this ridiculous tit for tat.”
Cassian chuckled, running his tongue over the front of his teeth. Nesta chewed the inside of her lip, a quirk Cassian doubted she knew of herself if she did it in front of him. The display appealed to the General in him, who sized up an opponent and knew exactly when to make a calculated move. He rose slowly to his feet and watched Nesta’s throat bob at his closeness.
Enough with the faulty armor and the bullshit, loaded silences. Nesta wasn’t as clever at hiding herself from Cassian as she aimed to be, and she hardly gave him enough credit for his own skills in observation. It made him wonder how dense her future husband had proven to be if she assumed so little of other people.
“Admit it. You bite back because it’s the only time you feel anything anymore,” he taunted, pressing a hand to the small of her back. “And you hate it.”
His free hand traced the delicate line of her collar bone. The moment her restraint snapped was always a beautiful one, and it was the sole reason Cassian hadn’t yet allowed himself to slant his mouth over hers. It would have been a shame to miss it.
Nesta was quiet for a while, her breaths faster than before. With one more drag of his knuckles over the base of her neck, Nesta launched into action, fumbling with the ties of her gown. Her words were swift, cutting.
“You don’t get to fly in at your leisure and act like you know me.” Cassian offered a cocky grin, his eyes sliding down to watch the sheer efficiency of her work. It was enough to keep her talking, and if she was talking, a shot remained for them yet. “And don’t think because we’ve traded a couple of orgasms that you’re entitled to an opinion.”
Cassian laughed humorlessly. “I’m sure your husband would love to hear this means nothing. That you managed to find some pleasure for yourself while you pretend you don’t think on it otherwise. ”
Not his proudest moment, but the man’s existence was enough to sour Cassian’s mood. He couldn’t resist the jab.
“He’s not my husband.”
For all he’d said, it was a compelling denial— only that it was missing a few critical considerations. His wings twitched in torture or delight, and damn him if he was supposed to figure it out. He stepped forward, turning to crowd her against the nearby wall. Nesta tilted her chin to look at him, and he savored the way the forced indifference played across her features.
“Mm,” he muttered, lifting his hand to run his knuckles delicately over her jaw. “We can talk about the rest later.”
Nesta’s breaths shuddered out of her, each one a blessing against the skin of Cassian’s throat. Trailing his finger beneath her chin, he eased it up toward his own and slide his lips over hers. It was only enough to have her lean into him, a fact that seemed like a self-induced ache atop their existing dynamic.
Those blue eyes, so expressive beneath her pinched brow, scanned Cassian’s face for something he couldn’t quite label. That fevered need for control rolled off of her in waves, and since life seemed to offer Nesta Archeron very little of it, Cassian decided he would gladly toss the reins to her. Anything— truly, anything— to keep her curves pressed against him.
“How will you have me tonight, Nesta?” he murmured, letting her name roll slowly from his tongue.
Sure, slender hands reached for his waist. His breath caught, but he hoped to recover quickly enough that Nesta wouldn’t notice the way her touch affected him. Perhaps it was too late for such hopes, but Cassian hadn’t made peace with showing a woman like Nesta his hand. It was no offense meant for her; rather, he knew with such little ammunition, it would take nothing for her to bring him to his knees.
He would kneel for much less, after all.
Her cheek was warm beneath his large hand, her lips plush— yet, unyielding somehow. Cassian angled his head to deepen the kiss, but Nesta batted his hand away from her face and leaned away before he realized what she aimed to do. How many times would she gain the upper hand with him— someone who had lived years beyond her own age and had navigated much more strategically-complex situations?
“Hands to yourself,” she snapped, but the breathiness in her tone gave her away. If she’d aimed for unaffected, she had failed spectacularly. A weird sense of pride warmed Cassian at the thought.
For dramatic pause, Cassian made a show of situating the gauntlets at each of his wrists as he backed away. The siphons caught the low candlelight and reflected a crimson hue, warming the room and giving a false sense of intimacy that felt too real for what it was.
Removing his flying leathers, he threw them over a nearby armchair rather than dropping the heavy garments to the rug. Nesta looked down her nose at the offending pieces, but her gaze slid to Cassian quickly, surveying him up and down like she was seeing him in a tunic and pants for the first time.
“Sweetheart?” he goaded, allowing his mouth to tick upward in the smirk she cursed so often.
“On the bed, propped against the pillows,” she managed, her gown dropping to the floor and leaving her in only a shift.
Cassian’s mouth watered at the sight. Most often, Nesta would only go as far as to let him take her in the thin garment, but it did very little in leaving things to the imagination.
To save her the trouble, Cassian loosened the neckline of his tunic and reached behind him to unfasten the buttons below his wings. They twitched against his wishes, displaying his anticipation to anyone within a reasonable distance. Nesta being the only one was no comfort. She was the last person who needed evidence of the nagging ache he felt when it came to her.
Her eyes scanned every inch of his exposed torso, and the heat of her attention was a nearly tangible thing in the room. Cassian forced an eyebrow up in challenge, a show of his indifference, although he wondered if the lie was worth it anymore.
Padding over to her bed, he lowered his body against the plush linens and arranged the pillows to accommodate his wings comfortably. As comfortable as they could be, anyway.
Despite their many nights together, Cassian hadn’t managed to offer access to such an intimate part of himself. To anyone who wasn’t Illyrian, it would have seemed counterintuitive that he would readily offer his cock to someone before allowing any touch to his wings, but he’d been lucky that Nesta never tried.
Cassian rested one arm against the bedspread, laying the other casually against his stomach. He dragged it slowly toward the leather stays of his pants, but Nesta’s commanding voice stopped him.
“I’ll do it.”
Her words were like lightning to his spine. His cock hardened under her attention, only made worse by her measured approach. He offered his free hand toward her, more in affection than an offer of assistance, but the glare she threw in his direction reminded him of their stipulations.
Hands to himself, then.
With a knowing smile, he tucked the rejected hand behind his head and splayed the other wider across the skin of his stomach. He would follow Nesta’s rules, sure, but he never agreed to stop goading her. As long as that fire flashed across her blue eyes, he wouldn’t be able to resist stoking it.
Nesta chewed her lip once more, and Cassian barely stifled a moan. She hadn’t touched him, yet he was unraveling at a record pace. At least, he thought he was, but he’d been ignorant to how his restraint would be tested when she threw a leg over his hips and straddled him. Her hands grazed his chest, and he allowed his eyes to roll closed.
Nesta dragged her nails lightly over his chest and down the muscles of his stomach. His back bowed in pleasure, his hands launching toward her waist before his brain caught up. He stopped them just in time, hovering inches from her soft curves and his fingers twitching to haul her against him.
“Nesta,” he begged, his voice a whisper.
She eyed him curiously, and pushed back so that she was straddling his shins. With the same mastery she had used on the stays of her gown, she loosened Cassian pants and hooked her fingers into the waistband. Cassian lifted his hips as best he could to help, groaning when she left them bunched just below his knees.
Nesta ran a slender finger from the head of his cock, teasing the entirety of his length in a way that had him twitching beneath her ministrations. A satisfied smile stretched across her beautiful face, and as if she was capable of the smallest mercies, she crawled over him and sealed her mouth against his.
The soft fabric of her shift glided over his chest, a solid contrast to the almost primal way she took his mouth. Cassian met her in a battle for what little dominance remained, dragging her full bottom lip between his teeth and kissing her senseless again.
His knuckles fisted the bed linens, and Mother’s tits, he regretted the earlier version of himself who threw any and all control to the wind. Something about Nesta went straight to his bloodstream, and the effect didn’t seem concerned with showing Cassian any kindness.
Nesta pulled away roughly and inched down Cassian’s body to line him up with her entrance. He opened his mouth to offer a touch, a taste— whatever got her ready for him and had her pretty little moans dancing in the air around them. She shook her head as if understanding his intent. The head of his cock pressed against her, and Nesta leaned forward to slide her lips over his.
“Still think we should talk?” she whispered, teasing his mouth with a soft flick of her tongue.
Cassian’s eyes rolled behind his eyelids, both in irritation and brain-melting pleasure. A beat passed before he clued in to her intentions. She had artfully dodged any response during Cassian’s own attempt at gaining the upper hand; so artfully, in fact, that he had wondered if his words had registered with her at all.
Damn him for underestimating the catalogue created by Nesta’s razor sharp wit. Of course she’d heard him and understood his meaning. Withholding any response had been every bit strategic. She wasn’t the type to allow life to drone on by accident.
A hiss tore from his mouth at the divine tension around his cock. With no shortage of intention, he forced his eyes open to take her in, and he thanked the Cauldron for his timing when Nesta straightened completely to lower herself over him. Tendrils of loose hair danced around her sharp cheekbones, both dusted with a vicious shade of pink that seemed exclusive to Nesta. Everything about the woman was a new experience, unique in every sense of the word.
Back arched, Nesta allowed her head to roll back over her shoulders while she chased her pleasure. Every muscle in Cassian’s legs and core were engaged in a feeble attempt to preserve the last shreds of his dignity. No one had ever rattled him to such a degree, but he didn’t fight it. He was happy for it, even. What that said about him, he didn’t know.
Nesta relaxed her thighs, moaning at her fullness once their hips were flush. Cassian’s hands drifted to her thighs, his thumbs ghosting a mindless path over her pebbled skin. He realized his mistake right before her head snapped forward, fire swirling in her eyes.
“Cassian,” she warned, her tone too breathy to be truly threatening.
Cassian released her with savage efficiency and laid his clenched fists by his side. Nesta resumed her rhythm, riding him expertly and ramping up the pace once she found the angle that served her best.
His hands opened and closed with the effort of keeping them in their assigned places. The silk shift clung to Nesta’s body in all the right ways, and a soft sheen of sweat erupted over her skin. Cassian hadn’t know temptation like her in his life.
Nesta’s hips faltered slightly, and instinctually, Cassian reached for her waist to steady her. His attention stayed on her face, lost in mindless pleasure and with abandon he knew in his soul she never allowed herself. Cassian flexed his hips slightly to shove his hands underneath him; otherwise, he feared proving Nesta’s assumptions that he was an uncivilized brute. Usually, he had no problem playing the part for the sake of their banter, but nothing was worth risking how safe Nesta felt with him. Nothing.
The movement had Nesta moaning into the quiet room, loud enough that Cassian barely suppressed the urge to shush her. She wasn’t a woman who seemed overly keen on being silenced in her own home, no matter how problematic her circumstances. Instead, Cassian bit the inside of his cheek almost to the point of pain to keep himself level. Nesta, on the other hand, seemed overcome with her need for release. Her head snapped forward, her eyes locking on Cassian’s and a hand planted on his lower abdomen for leverage.
“I’m—” she whimpered, but she never finished her thought. Before she had a chance, her jaw went slack with pleasure and her free hand slid over the front of her shift to tease a nipple through the soft fabric. The sight alone threatened to unravel him, but he was a little in awe of how quickly she’d come in comparison to their usual times together.
“Gods, Nesta,” Cassian breathed. Her core pulsed around him, and his eyes rolled behind his lids. He’d originally had more to offer in way of a comment, but the tension around his cock was enough to melt all coherent thought away.
Nesta stayed atop him through the aftershocks, until her hips were still and flush against Cassian’s again. He kept his eyes closed for a moment before looking up at her beneath lazy lids, his mouth drying at how stunning she was with the flush of release stippling her fair skin.
Her bottom lip was imprisoned between her teeth, a ghost of a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. To Cassian’s surprise, Nesta slide her hands over the tight muscles of his stomach and up to his chest. She ran her thumb over each of his nipples, earning a shaking moan in return before ghosting her lips over his.
Cassian put the full might of his discipline into keeping his hips still despite the way his cock throbbed, still painfully hard inside her. Nesta was especially sensitive after she came, and on an even simpler note, she didn’t owe him an orgasm in return. Regardless, he had some awkward arrangements to make and some things to take care of before he tried slipping into bed only feet away from Azriel. He would never let him live it down.
Before he could bemoan the fact, Nesta rocked gently over him. Her curves were pressed flush against the hard lines of his body, and even though he could feel the full warmth of her beneath the silk she wore, it was hardly enough. What he would give— an embarrassing number of things, really— to feel her smooth skin gliding over his own.
Nesta moaned into the quiet, tracing Cassian’s lips teasingly with her tongue. He chased her mouth when she moved to sit-up but settled quickly into the pillow when he remembered the sight she was to behold, thoroughly debauched and relaxed in a way he guessed almost no one saw. The possibility that he was the only one sent a shiver down his spine.
Without any warning, Nesta started rocking her hips in long, languid strokes. Cassian bit his bottom lip viciously to keep from crying out, his head rolling back into the plush pillow and exposing his throat without a second thought.
Oh, how the mighty had fallen.
His focus narrowed to every sensation, no matter how faint. Anywhere Nesta touched him came alive with something akin to wildfire, and sweat erupted over every inch of his skin. He swallowed, forcing down the lump in his throat and hauling a deep breath in to his lungs to steady his heartbeat.
Nesta’s breaths soughed through the charged air of the room, her chest rising and falling as if battling against the silk confines. Cassian lowered his chin to take her in properly and opened his mouth to say the gods only knew what— perhaps a thesis of her perfection, a prayer to the divine patchwork of the universe that brought them into each others orbit no matter how temporary their circumstances. Each time they met, Cassian was closer and closer to damning the universe for the very same.
The rising body heat, both his and Nesta’s, felt a bit like a cage with his hands trapped beneath him. Fully intending to honor their rules, he slid them out from under his body and gripped the bed linens once more, moaning at how the cool air tickled his fevered skin. He didn’t miss the way Nesta’s attention snapped toward the action, nor her quick recovery in an attempt to shield it from him. Suspicion and ire for her fiance threatened to choke him, but discussing either had no place in that moment. Or ever, if Nesta had anything to say of it. She usually had the last word no matter the topic.
“Nesta,” he rasped, pausing to gather himself when her eyes met his, “can you come for me again, Sweetheart?”
Fuck, he hoped she would. Nesta was always so responsive, but her release had turned her bones to jelly, it seemed. Considering he was still under “no touching” protocol, worshiping every inch of her smooth skin the way she deserved was out of the question at the moment. Next time, if the opportunity presented itself. Maybe. Hopefully.
Before uttering a word, Nesta pulled her shift over her head and tossed it carelessly to the floor. The sight of her— despite having very little room for imagination before— threatened to send him over the edge, but he gritted his teeth and fought against it. He wanted to feel Nesta come again, for the tight grip of her to carry him through each and every wave of pleasure.
Nesta scanned his body again, her expression turning almost sheepish. A tension lay beneath her actions at his question.
“I think so,” she moaned, hips rocking that same languid rhythm. Something like determination flashed across her face, and all he wanted was to take things into his own hands to save her the trouble.
It would only take one word, and he’d have her under him. He knew her body well if she could trust him to take care of her, but getting there wasn’t going to happen if her mind had been preoccupied before he’d landed on her balcony. And with demons he’d never know or understand. The thought gave him pause, particularly with her vigilance of his smallest actions.
“We’ll get you there,” he promised, his voice rough. With intentional slowness, he brought his wrists together before her and watched her brow wrinkle in consideration. “You’re safe with me.”
Emotions warred across her face— confusion, awe, perhaps a hint of relief. Whatever the combination, it was almost intimidating to be under the intensity of such focus. Her hips slowed to a halt, her decision made, and she reached out to grip each of his wrists with her elegant hands.
“You’re sure?”
Cassian nodded, his throat too tight to speak. Lust blazed down his spine at being on the receiving end of Nesta’s mercy, and although he mostly meant to make her more comfortable, he couldn’t ignore the way his body sang with anticipation.
Nesta leaned backward and tugged at his pants, still bunched around his calves. Any questions died on his tongue when, after a few tugs, Nesta oriented toward him with the leather stays of his pants.
Clever woman, he thought. She made quick work of his wrists and tugged upward until Cassian assisted in lifting his hands toward the headboard. Securing what remained of the leather cord around the decorative spindle mounted at the bed’s center, Nesta took her time kissing a path from his wrist, down his forearm, over his bicep, and finally, taking his mouth in a savage, claiming kiss that made his cock throb.
Her hips picked up pace, and Cassian’s jaw dropped in silent groan. They dissolved into quiet moans, Nesta’s eager and almost possessive grip all over his body. Determination shone beautifully across her face in the low light of her room, but watching her blue eyes roll in pleasure threatened any rational thought.
Nesta’s movements turned desperate in her chase for release, and Cassian couldn’t take it anymore. He lifted his chin in invitation, relieved when she leaned forward heavily and pressed her lips to his.
Rocking his hips into her, he dragged her bottom lip between his teeth. “Let me,” he murmured, punctuating the point with another press of his hips. “I’ve got you.”
Nesta whimpered. Her forehead rested against his chin— the only sign of her concession she would give, he thought— before releasing a long, low moan and lowering to the center of his chest.
His movement was restricted by his pants, but he managed to press his feet into the mattress enough to allow himself the leverage to thrust deeper inside her. Nesta’s hips stilled and allowed him full control, muttering soft curses against his skin with each roll of his hips.
Release taunted him. The way Nesta’s breathing had picked up and her nails pressed into his skin indicated how imminent it was for her. Cassian pressed a rough kiss to her hair and slowed his pace, pulling out almost entirely and rolling slowing into her once more. It wasn’t the first time he’d fucked Nesta in such a way, one that had her gasping his name into the quiet room and the head of his cock teasing the delicate, sensitive tissue just inside her entrance.
“Come for me,” he ordered roughly against her temple. “Take me with you.”
With the first clench of her walls around him, Cassian was gone— a slave to Nesta’s scent, to the way her body moved over him, and how each syllable of his name became a curse and a prayer from her lips. He turned his face quickly into his bicep, sinking his teeth into the muscle to keep from crying out. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d come so hard. Truth be told, he was lucky he remembered his own name.
They lay there for several moments catching their breath. Sweat coated them both, but neither seemed to be in a hurry to move. Their time without risk of suspicions had likely run out minutes before, so one of them needed to take the initiative. Cassian decided it was enough to relax the savage grip he had on Nesta’s headboard and the leather stays, and they shared a chuckle at the way the wood creaked in relief. Perhaps he’d been holding on a bit tighter than he thought.
With a contented sigh, Nesta sat up and eased off of him to clean up. Cassian regretted the loss of her weight immediately, but she returned a minute later with a cool cloth in hand. The hem of her robe hanged close to the ground, and if the soft fabric hadn’t run the contours of her figure in such a satisfying way, the full coverage of the garment would have been downright criminal.
Nesta made quick work of releasing his hands and wrapped the cool cloth around each of his wrists to soothe the redness. It was unnecessary in Cassian’s opinion, but rejecting such an outward display of care from Nesta felt as safe as traveling a field riddled with snares.
“You know, the gauntlets will cover any marks.”
Nesta’s eyes slid to his, and his breath hitched. The barest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“Maybe,” she conceded, her voice laced with dry humor. “Although, it seems poor form to send you on your way without making sure you’re alright.”
Cassian laughed, a rough chuckle in contrast to such an intimate moment. It was better that way. How his chest expanded, the warmth he felt— that road only led to impossible things, painful things.
Things he couldn’t help but want some nights, anyway.
Before he could conjure some sort of reply, Nesta reached for the leather stays and laced them loosely back into place to allow Cassian enough room to pull up his pants. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed to stand, tucking himself away and pretending he didn’t notice the way Nesta’s stare lingered. His attention was better fixed on the task at hand considering he needed to locate his tunic, wrestle with his flying leathers, and shove his feet back into his boots. The thought alone added a layer of fatigue to his loose, tired muscles.
He slid his tunic on and reached for his leathers, but Nesta’s voice interrupted. “Don’t you need to clean up? Won’t the others know?”
“I’d planned to clean-up in the bathroom near the room I’m staying in. No sense in leaving my scent behind in case your sister visits you here.”
Refocused, he made quick work of the many buckles on his flying gear. He wasn’t lying to Nesta with his answer. Every word was logical, rational— just as he’d intended. The hidden truth was that he couldn’t afford the potential intimacy of staying, couldn’t stomach the domesticity of it. The lines had been drawn in the sand many years ago by forces greater than themselves, and Cassian wasn’t the starry-eyed idealist that Rhys was. The wall represented far more than the division of land.
Nesta scoffed. “My sheets already smell of you. What’s the difference?”
Cassian finished tying his boots and stood to his full height. He walked slowly toward her, barely resisting the urge to reach out and tame a rogue strand of her hair. Or snap the ties of her robe. Either way.
Forcing his cockiest grin, he said, “Nothing, really.” He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “But the latter will have you thinking of me. It’s a risk I can justify.”
Nesta rolled her eyes and shoved him away, albeit half-heartedly. “I wonder how I’ll ever get the smell of gargoyle out of them. They may be better off burned.”
Cassian’s hand dropped to her waist, pulling her flush against him and kissing her greedily through his laughter. She kissed him with equal fervor, and it was a miracle he managed to pull himself away with any level of composure.
“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Sweetheart.”
Her scowl had him biting the inside of his cheek as he took the several steps backward to the balcony doors. Nesta stayed rooted to her spot on the rug, those blue eyes locked up tight and giving nothing away.
She heaved a breath, crossing her arms. “I’ve told you not to call me that.”
The wind was chilly against his wings, and they twitched in anticipation of the flight.
“Maybe I’ll remember this time,” he teased. “Be sure to lock these—”
“I know how to secure my room, thank you,” she quipped.
Cassian backed away with his hands up in contrition. “Fair enough.”
He rolled his shoulders and turned to step onto the balcony’s stone ledge. He scanned the immediate perimeter and gauged the winds, but it was hard to tell if the thrumming under his skin had anything to do with either of them at all.
His wings flapped in assessment, and when he was satisfied with the conditions enough for take-off, he threw a knowing wink over his shoulder.
“Night, Nesta.”
A moment later, he was airborne. He swore he heard mutterings of “arrogant” and “brute” along the winds as if their loyalties insisted he was informed. Cassian chuckled, shaking his head back and forth.
Nothing he hadn’t heard before.
—
Flying laps to burn off steam had seemed like a decent idea— until he’d rounded the estate once and realized the bone-deep heaviness his body carried. It was enough to force himself to the proper landing and keep his feet nearly silent on his walk to the washroom.
Once he was properly clean, he dragged his body to his and Azriel’s room and crept quietly inside. Azriel was a terrible sleeper in his own quarters on the darkest night of the year, so Cassian didn’t have much room for error. And that was without consideration of how the dark favored Az in the first place. He glanced at Az’s sleeping form and breathed a sigh of relief that he seemed unaffected by his return.
With a grace uncharacteristic of his usual bedtime, Cassian peeled the blanket down the bed and settled against the sheet. He laid on his stomach to allow his wings adequate space and folded an arm beneath his pillow. The damned thing went flat under the weight of his head, and because his mind was occupied with all things Nesta, he almost heard a loaded comment about his head’s abnormal size.
A loud huff sounded in the room, and Cassian blinked against the darkness. It could have been his own breath with the way his head swam, but before he could embrace the false comfort of that theory, Azriel’s level voice rasped through the small space between their beds.
“You, brother,” he began, pausing to let out another breath, “have lost your damned mind.”
Perhaps it was his role as the Night Court’s Spymaster, but Az’s voice always held such cold calculation. It was soft and calm, yet loaded in a way that commanded focus. The image it conjured was something akin to a large swaddle of baby blankets, but upon folding back the corner, one found themselves looking at a bundle of daggers.
Cassian begrudged Azriel’s ability to be so careless with his breathing— for taking it for granted— when his own was lodged in his throat. Only his body’s involuntary panic forced air into his lungs seconds later. A million responses bounced around in his skull, and his tongue was prepared to fire off one that made the most sense when it finally landed.
His free hand moved to his face, his calluses making a rasping sound against the light stubble dusting his jaw. Cassian inhaled deeply and released it over several, controlled seconds. His hand continued its vigorous path over his eyes, cheeks, jaw, and provided some shallow illusion of comfort while he considered how to respond.
Care was required when talking to Azriel, mostly because Cassian never knew how much the asshole knew in the first place. For all he knew, Az thought he’d cut his duties short to fly over the human lands with minimal coverage. Either that, or despite his best efforts in cleaning up, the essence of his visit to Nesta’s room remained and sent Azriel’s shadows fluttering the moment he entered the room. But could he readily identify Cassian’s partner? Or did he assume him to be an impetuous, arrogant Male who took his risks in a local tavern?
Exhaustion settled into his bones, sending all his previous considerations into slow-floating splinters through his mind until they were a faint echo of good sense. The only cohesive thought he could muster rolled off his tongue, and he wasn’t naive to how much truth lay in two seemingly harmless words.
“I know.”
——————————————————————————
If you’d like to be tagged in any of my fics, please send me an ask, a message, leave a comment, or mention being tagged in your reblog! I’ll be happy to add you!
[And, if I’ve left you off my list unintentionally, please don’t hesitate to remind me! No offense taken.]
Nessian taglist:
@agentsofsheilds
@and-she-burns-with-it
@bondbabe2000
@burningsnowleopard
@cassiansbigwingspan
@champanheandluxxury
@duskandstarlight
@embersofwildfire
@faeriebambula
@flora-shadowshine
@foughtconquered
@fucking-winchester-trash
@gwynberdara
@illyrianshadowhunter
@itsforeverinnocent-blog
@joyceortiz13
@katrinegrey
@lady-winter-sunrise
@melphss
@misteryhen
@my-fan-side
@my-otrand
@notyournymphetish
@princessofmerchants
@princessofmerchants-reads
@simpingfornestaarcheron
@sirendeepity
@sv0430
@talkfantasytome
@that-golden-lyre
@thereadingrainbows
@theoverlyenthusiasticwriter
@towhateverend87
@vasudharaghavan
@valkyriewarriors
@wannawriteyouabook
#nessian#acotar#acosf#nesta x cassian#nessian smut#nessian prompt#canon universe#playingwithfire#twsd writes#twsd fics
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What to Do When Building Garage Job Benches
Creating garage ESD Work Benches for your garage will certainly supply you copious amounts of working space while not taking up too much space. Whether you flaunt a work bench that is made use of for your maintenance on your automobile, or if it is a woodworking garage work bench, the selections you will have when you look at your layouts are countless. Structure your garage job benches will acquire an afternoon approximately to end up, and also the final thought is always pleasing.
It is moderately straightforward to make your very own wood garage benches, but in order to finish it you will certainly need to follow these simple instructions as well as have excellent plans. To start with, you will certainly need to choose exactly how high you would like your bench to be. As soon as you have actually done this, make a spot on the wall at the stature you have selected with a breeze line, after that go on to confirm the line you have made with a level and make the required modifications if requirement be. You have actually got to re-adjust the height of your bench ought to you intend to put in closets on your wooden bench.
Afterwards, you have to pierce openings where you have made your markings for the brackets. An electric drill and sturdy bolts function the greatest. Consequently, you must set up the metallic braces onto the wall surface studs, inserting the top brackets simply listed below the snap line. Cut up 6 pieces of hardwood according to the size of your Esd Products work bench, and place a participant in addition to each brace. Making use of timber screws will certainly guarantee they stay in position. You will likewise be needed to reduce longer pieces of lumber to rest on your assistance brackets and also safeguard them with nails. Position the rest of the hardwood at the end of the going across assistances as well as lock them. The last item of the frame is to be connected to the face of the bench using nails to stand up as well as secure it. Lastly, you need to utilize a saw on your fragment board and cut it to opt for the dimension of your structure. The finest method to do this is to cut the board in half size means. Lay both halves on each other and afterwards on top of your frame as well as safeguard them nails. This will provide you a durable table leading surface.
If you desire a mobile bench, after that the most outstanding alternative for you would certainly be to get hold of a rolling bench. They are prepared with steel and are equipped with an amount of moving doors, racks and also closets. These job benches are also fixed with wheels which come with a locking system to make sure the steel rolling bench doesn't relocate when working on it. These are perfect if you prefer to move around your job area or garage.
Garage work benches are idyllic to have when you are working in your garage. Whether you have steel work benches for bring back items, using it as a woodworking garage work bench to construct something or polishing devices, it is fitting to boot.
For more info:-
ESD Bench Matting
Antistatic Mats
Static Shielding Bags
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▌ REAL NAME: peter maddox woods (though perry is the only one who calls him peter most of the time)
▌SINGLE OR TAKEN: with the exception of a few girlfriends in his high school years that didn’t last more than a few weeks, he’s single till 1967 when he meets the lovely photographer, perry marchand @voirverite
▌ABILITIES OR POWERS: scathing wit, a wicked sense of humour given a place to thrive, and a tendency to know how situations are going to go before they happen.
( ...and here is where i am cutting this off to read more so yall don’t have a huge post on your dash and can choose to read at ur own will... )
▌EYE COLOR: a very pale blue that often looks grey until he’s in deeply saturated golden hour sunlight or by the sea, in which case his eyes look almost cerulean.
▌HAIR COLOR: an irish blooded dark brown, nearing black. starts to streak like salt and pepper in his late thirties and eventually goes silver by his mid-late forties.
▌FAMILY MEMBERS: mother and father, both estranged and woods bears very little resemblance to them in myriad ways, and a lesbian cottagecore-esque aunt who woods is cut off contact from at a young age and doesn’t reconnect with until later in his adulthood.
▌PETS: an irish wolfhound named boris, gifted to him and perry by musician mark crowe, and a dalmatian named marlene, also gifted to the couple by a luxuriously-living friend who can spend that kind of money on a dog...
▌SOMETHING THEY DON’T LIKE: insanely entitled fans — he’s dealt with a few too many in his life and their attitude turns him sour. sometimes i think woods ends up being far too judgemental of people due to his job experience but this eventually wears off by the eighties when he’s gone through a period of development and isn’t working as a roadie any longer. also, touring.
▌HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES: ... touring... (it’s a love/hate relationship), writing at odd hours of the night, birdwatching, smoking pipes, visiting bookstores, reading clever literature that sometimes includes funny children’s books, movie nights with perry, drinking coffee, driving on open road at night, rugby & american football (but only if he’s playing it, otherwise he doesn’t give a shit), browsing car catalogues, boating, when he has more time off there are brief stints where i believe he’d be into making little plane and car models, painting flowers.
▌EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE: he’s got more than one story about how in football he’d accidentally broken an opponent player’s nose or knocked the wind completely out of someone - and at the first school he transferred to in america, he ended up brawling with other boys all the time smh (though, i must add, he never started the fights)
▌EVER KILLED ANYONE BEFORE: hell no. woods would cry before he did smth like that
▌ANIMAL THAT REPRESENTS THEM: definitely wolf-like in how he dutiful he is: he recognises he is an important part of his ‘pack’ (the band) and values his position as such. he’s private, fiercely loyal, and more afraid of a stranger than they are of him. but he also has a really warm, loving side that is actually somewhat paternal and nurturing and can also be very playful with those he loves and holds close. but if you asked anyone else, i’m sure they’d see him as a bear - for many reasons lmao
▌WORST HABITS: his propensity for drinking too much coffee, the way he can wear his thoughts on his face too much when it comes to irritation, foregoing pitstops if he possibly can when it comes to a tight tour schedule, underestimating himself, sometimes he can be a little overcautious when his anxiety is bubbling, his nitpicking when it comes to tidiness - especially ‘keeping the bus clean’.
▌ROLE MODELS: tbh perry, his aunt, scott halpritt, frank o’hara, tolkien, perhaps a teacher from his past, and i think he’d really dig rob halford...
▌SEXUAL ORIENTATION: gay as gay can be...
▌THOUGHTS ON MARRIAGE/KIDS: marriage: he believes that if he’s to marry someone it’s perry and eventually i think they would have a ceremony of their own for fun but make it official as soon as it’s legal and they’d do it for benefits with their own twist. but kids? no sirree. he helps perry babysit friends’ children but his only involvement with younger people is when he becomes a visiting lecturer at high schools and does consulting prof stuff at community colleges.
▌FEARS: suburbia... there’s just something about the sameness of the white upper middle class and their family ‘fronts’, especially in america, that irks him. he also has always had the fear that he would never be loved, truly, but finds he is quite wrong in that assumption.
▌STYLE PREFERENCES: in youth his style is pretty conservative with the small expressional flare in the form of colour. through life he tends to lean towards mod-like fashion in three piece suits, turtlenecks, stripes, and solid primary colours of various tints and shades. however, while working on tour, he can be found in athletic-fitting tshirts (sometimes band merch or a black shirt with STAFF in white lettering) and comfortable working levis. he loves boots and some fine clothes, and takes special care in selecting elements that compliment through colour. occasionally, he embellishes with modest gold jewellery. leather is good too - especially in the 80s.. catch him with those leather jackets. and at least once in the 60s he had a pair of red leather trousers.
▌SOMEONE THEY LOVE: all the people he considers pupils.
▌APPROACH TO FRIENDSHIPS: he commonly waits for people to approach him - if he knows they’re interested in talking to him, he’ll spare his time, but he’s used to being sweet-talked for access to backstage. if he wants to befriend someone, he’s often too unsure, and if forced to confront, he’ll employ humour and be extra vigilant about his external impression due to anxiety.
▌THOUGHTS ON PIE: he’s english... pies are life. especially if they’re meat pies... put that shit on toast just like them beans and crisps
▌FAVORITE DRINK: sherry, vodka lemonades, black coffee, or yorkshire tea with a bit of cream... eventually he develops a taste for herbal teas when he has to wean himself off the caffeine.
▌FAVORITE PLACE TO SPEND TIME AT: working on his car or his boat - don’t bother woods when he’s on his boat. or in the bath...
▌SWIM IN THE LAKE OR IN THE OCEAN: ocean — he’s drawn to any large body of water, but there’s something about the tide he really enjoys.
▌THEIR TYPE: thicker, shorter men with just enough build to show they’re a little physically active, anyone who has soft and understanding eyes, and those who are responsible but not so restrained and austere that they don’t know how to have a good time. he loves when a person can make him laugh, too.
▌CAMPING OR INDOORS: woods prefers staying indoors but when it comes to camping, he’s no spring chicken and can set up a tent and a fire within the hour that you touch down. if you were on a survival show, you’d want to have woods on your team with his background.
tagged by: @sleazygoing my king thank u so much
tagging: literally anyone who wishes... perhaps @mancicon or @camillelafaye hehe
#i wrote out this long thing abt how he is straight passing sometimes for the abilities powers but it became a meta so im saving that#for another time KSJDHG#anyway enjoy#the copious amounts of woods info#* ooc : headcanons.
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Season β AU #002 - Welcome to β
So when we last left off on the Season β AU, the Hermits had been kidnapped by shadow doubles of themselves & dropped into an unknowable reality made up of an infinite blue jungle under an empty, Void-like sky. So, what’s next from there in the weird dream I had?
Well, from here, things get a little less ordered, but i’ll set it up as best I can.
- All the Hermits wake alone, with no-one else nearby, something i’m certain my unawake mind drew from @hermitcraftheadcanons’ Scattered AU (check it out if you haven’t, it’s great). I can tell from this that my dream originally intended this to be an alt version of Season 7 - though it isn’t now - as one of the “arriving alone” bits was Scar turning up in the jungle, as he does at the start of S7 (was in full wizard gear in my dream, to boot :P ). I want to play with the most recent info on S7, though, so post-S7 it is instead.
- There’s a few things various Hermits find odd or outright alarming beyond just what they can see after doing the normal “player” thing of crafting some basic tools to survive to take their mind off the panic. X discovers his admin powers are completely gone. They’re not even inaccessible, they’re just... not there. Anyone else who has command access notices this quite quickly too, & nobody misses the complete lack of access to communications.
- And all of the Hermits, beyond this, find that mining & crafting is broken somehow. Mumbo swings his fist to punch a tree, & cries out in pain, the wood far harder than even his practiced hands were ready for. It’s nothing more than a sting, & he’s fine once he’s gotten used to it, but it came as a shock, & rather than getting a log block for his troubles, he watches the section of tree, on his final punch, explode into a million useless splinters of wood, only a few large enough to put in his inventory. After a while, the Hermits begin to find that, with enough of these fragments, they can build a rudimentary sword (False manages this faster than most others), or a pick, or some planks, but it makes everything far more of a slog, as if the world is fundamentally dragging them down.
- In the months to follow - in the part of this that reminds me of Sky Factory - they will find that stone has the same problem, but worse. Stone drops... nothing. Absolutely nothing. Same with anything else underground, which would be bad for ore mining... if there were any ores to mine. Instead, through much trial & error, the Hermits find that crafting enough layers, combinations & types of wood & dirt together (in my dream I saw someone crafting thousands of Rubies together to get something - so I guess Rubies also exist here) - like those mods that have compressed blocks - gets you stone, & magnitudes more effort beyond that to get iron, gold, redstone, etc. Magnitudes further still to get even a single, tiny fragment of diamond, & then there’s netherite, & the other top tier, heavy duty materials & tools Minecraft has.
- By a year into this hell, the Hermits collectively have maybe enough diamond for less than half a set of armor between them, & no netherite to speak of. It hasn’t exactly been their main focus, though.
- With that initial panic out of the way, maybe it’s time to introduce you to where the Hermits are. This is Season β. That isn’t it’s actual name, if it even has one, but as far as the Hermits’ season system works, it’ll suit it well enough. It’s a sort of underlying junk/echo reality (in the part of the dream that was probably drawn from the Backrooms creepy-pasta) that runs beneath the entire Minecraft multiverse. All the echoes of worlds, all the little bits of lost history or forgotten places that never should have been or that simply slipped through the cracks... this is what β is. The place where all these various never weres have coalesced into an infinite, broken place where the usual rules of the Minecraft realms don’t consistently apply... and the Hermits are stuck here.
- β isn’t entirely this infinite, headache inducing blue jungle. This is just one layer of the dark infinity. There’s at least 11 layers, though I imagine there’s actually infinite or functionally infinite amounts. In my dream, I remember there was mentioned a 6th Layer, a 10th Layer, and I think an 11th Layer. I recall that one layer, I think the 10th Layer, was gradually “eating” away at another layer despite them being supposedly infinite, probably the 11th, in my dream, so in order to have the Hermits not immediately have to deal with that metaphysical clusterfrick, i’m stating now that the “Jungle” is the 6th Layer. How the Hermits are meant to get from layer to layer, or if they’d even want to, is undetermined.
- This endless hell is, well, just that: hell. And nothing shows that more than when a Hermit dies for the first time. It’s False who’s the unfortunate one. Being one of the most resourceful of the group, she manages to craft a stone sword within the first few weeks, sets up some basic shelter, & even manages to reunite with a couple of the other Hermits after days of trekking for miles & miles at a time, herself Ren & Stress managing to build a perimeter to keep out the mobs, which have thankfully been both keeping to their normal behaviors despite a few anomalies & been spawning in lesser numbers due to the jungle biome & copious amounts of leaves.
- So when a creeper unfortunately gets the drop of her in the midst of an unexpected mob horde - glowing with red lightning, of all things - and all the Hermits see her death message, it comes as a shock. Thankfully, she had a bed, so she dashes back to where Ren & Stress are waiting... & blinks in surprise as their eyes widen in shock & horror. Unnerved, False catches her reflection in a nearby pool of water... & flinches in fear as she sees the empty socket where her right eye used to be, as if it simply vanished. She can still mostly see fine, somehow, but her right eye’s “vision” is strange and hazy, with occasional flickering, & she swears she keeps seeing something moving in the corner of her eye, despite Ren & Stress assuring her there’s nothing there. And that’s not even getting into the strange, single black tally line that she later finds has appeared on her left shoulder like some sort of tattoo...
- This, unfortunately, isn’t the extent or even the specific outcome that awaits someone each time they die. It has the potential to get quite... odd. False got off quite lightly the first time losing an “eye”, all things considered.
- It is over a year before Grian - who was left behind from the party due to illness - sees any of his friends again. Through a means I haven’t yet decided on, he finds some manner of reaching β, albeit one-way & by accident, while searching for everyone with assistance from others. What he finds, though still his friends & relieved to see him, isn’t as pristine as he remembers. Time in β has not been kind.
- And I've decided it is Grian who gets left behind, rather than Jevin. I had this thought that maybe my dream “labelled” it as Grian but meant Jevin because in one part of the dream Grian appears “slimy” & face paint seems to melt right off him due to that (was an odd moment even with context). But given what β can do to people, apparently, i’m willing to lock the one left behind in as Grian.
Cutting it off again. Still a few things I haven’t gotten into, I think, but this is already a long post. :P
#hermitcraft#hermitblr#hermitcraft au#hc season β au#goodtimewithscar#xisumavoid#mumbojumbo#falsesymmetry#stressmonster101#rendog#grian#ijevin
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I saw the devil (in me) - chapter 4
Takemura doesn't believe in ghosts, not really, but a man driven to his limit might believe in just about anything. Trapped in a losing game and consumed by grief, he returns to Night City looking for closure. but ends up finding something much more.
ao3 I chapter 1 I chapter 2 I chapter 3
As he opened his eyes, the first thing Takemura noticed was that he was no longer lying on a leather chair in the center of the clinic, hooked up to an impossible amount of monitors, a painfully bright surgical lamp hovering over him, blinding him to the point where it wasn’t possible to keep his eyes open even if he wanted to. Instead, Takemura found himself lying on an actual bed, frame creaking with every little movement he made. It was pushed to the side of the garage, away from prying eyes, but still within Viktor’s line of sight. The other man must’ve moved him at some point, though Takemura wouldn't be able to pinpoint when exactly, the brief moments he could recall an unsettling blur in an otherwise blissfully void unconsciousness.
Misty’s terrified face. Viktor leaning over him, still in that suit he wore to the funeral, bloody smears staining his otherwise perfectly white shirt. The bitter taste of vomit flooding Takemura’s mouth, a pair of strong hands helping him turn to the side so he wouldn't choke. And the cold. An unyielding chill that’d shake him awake every few hours, teeth chattering despite a thick blanket he was covered with. Eventually, it was gone, only to come back in the form of searing hotness, one that made his optics go haywire, spitting glitchy warnings all over his feed before he drifted off again. And Viktor’s hand against his forehead, his skin almost ice cold in comparison with his own.
In short, Takemura felt like absolute shit. Like he’s been dragged through Night City’s trash dump and back. At least the clinic didn’t seem to him a rocking boat anymore, the soft, neon lights no longer so unpleasantly bright as they were merely a few hours before. It seemed surreal, but it’s not like Takemura didn’t know what to expect. He’s been through cyberware withdrawal in the past, the memory of the last time he ended up in Viktor’s clinic in a less than presentable state still fresh in his mind, but this felt so much worse. In the moments he was lucid enough to form such judgments, Takemura kept telling himself it was his injuries aggravating his symptoms, these two unfortunate circumstances layered on top of each other yet another instance of bad luck that seemed to follow him the moment he stepped foot in Night City for the first time not even a year ago, but he knew well enough it was bullshit. It almost felt as if his body finally found an opportunity to carry out a proper vengeance for the last few months in Takamatsu.
When Takemura first stepped off the AV, a sense of relief washed over him. Finally, he was back home. He made it, carved himself a path back under Arasaka’s wings, the only place he ever truly belonged. The circumstances were different, sure, and he was yet to swallow the disappointment that being dismissed from Saburo-dono’s side was, but everything was back as it should be. At that point, Takemura could still force himself to push the memory of V far back into his mind, convinced that it was her who made the wrong choice, though little did he know it wouldn’t be much longer.
He refused to acknowledge it, but even before V started haunting his every waking moment, even his favorite foods felt bland to taste, far removed from the richness of flavor he remembered. Then came the memories and guilt that kept him awake at night and copious amounts of coffee to remedy the lost hours of sleep by day, his meals growing smaller and smaller, reduced into a bare minimum necessary to keep him going. He was never a man to refuse a meal, the hunger that plagued his entire childhood burned into his mind, but these days he couldn’t stomach more than a few bites before he felt it lodge down his throat.
Takemura slowly sat up and almost immediately regretted it, his back protesting the movement after all the hours he spent in one position. He ignored it, running a hand through his hair to pull back the loose strands plastered to his skin. To his mild surprise, he was no longer wearing the suit he left the hotel in, but a stretched out t-shirt and sweatpants, both a bit too loose on his smaller frame. Viktor must’ve changed his clothes at some point, most likely before the blood had a chance to stiffen the material. It didn’t make Takemura feel embarrassed. If anything, he was grateful for the care, but the state he was in certainly made him feel vulnerable, much more so than he’d be willing to admit. Fighting the anxiety rising in his chest, Takemura looked to the side, fully expecting his left arm to no longer be attached to his shoulder, but there it was - heavily bandaged, but still in one piece. He tried moving his fingers and saw them twitch before a warning flash of pain could reach his senses.
The clinic was quiet, save for a quiet hum of machinery and the sound of a boxing match playing in the background, punching and grunts faded out by a speaker spitting commentary faster than a machine gun spits bullets. All of that was interrupted by a soft creak as Viktor got up from his chair and walked over to Takemura.
“Good to see you back among the living,” Viktor said, a faint smile on his lips. He was back to wearing his usual blue shirt, sleeves rolled up over his biceps, stethoscope hanging around his neck. He seemed much more at ease than the last time they met, the clinic being his natural environment much more so than the bar, though it did very little to lift the dark circles beneath his eyes. If anything, he looked even more exhausted.
“How long was I…?” Takemura’s voice came out hoarse and strained, barely audible even for him. As if reading his mind, or, more likely, simply having a decent bedside manner, Viktor handed him a glass of water.
“Here you go. As for your question, four days, give or take.”
“And did anyone..?”
“Did anyone come knockin’ lookin’ for you?” Viktor asked as he grabbed himself a chair and sat beside Takemura. ”Luckily, no. Left me wonderin’ what the hell happened. Somehow I doubt it was the Valentinos you met on a late night stroll, so let me make a wild guess - tough day at work?”
“You might call it that.”
“So what, Arasaka is sending their assassins after people for missing a day off work now?” the doctor asked, not much humor in his tone.
“It wasn’t...exactly that. I apologize, but I would rather not discuss it right now.” Takemura replied but didn’t provide further explanation. To his relief, Viktor didn’t push for it either, at least for now. Before the silence between them could grow any heavier, Takemura added: “If you are worried about troopers bursting through your door, there is no need. If they had not done that already, I believe it means that I...got my point across.”
“Should’ve seen the other guy, huh?” Viktor asked with a husky laugh.
A wet sound of a blade piercing the sternum, going right through the aorta. A seasoned Arasaka agent struggling to load a magazine, fear in his eyes as if he had seen the devil himself. A quick cut to the neck of a practically defenseless man, still recovering from the shard’s aftereffects, dead before he had a chance to see what happened to his companions. That’s all it took, it seems.
***
“Since you’re out of the woods, allow me to give you a quick rundown of how it’s lookin’ for you: a gunshot wound to the stomach was a walk in the park compared to the scrap metal that was the wiring in your left hand. I hooked you up with some suitable replacements, should be workin’ just fine if you allow the cuts to properly heal, so take it easy for a while. I took the liberty to go in and tweak your CPU a little, managed to restore some basic interface functions, but I'm afraid all the other implants are a goner.” Viktor said, fingers dancing as he typed on the screen he was holding. “No way for me to reset them, Arasaka tech is way above my pay grade. You probably know that already, which brings me to another matter we should, uh, discuss.” the other man’s expression changed, his brows furrowed in concern clearly evident on his face.
“Yes?” Takemura’s fingers froze halfway through buttoning the coat Viktor handed him. To his relief, Takemura realized it was his own coat, seemingly fresh from a half-decent laundry service, one that managed not to completely ruin the heavy grade wool. Buttoning it wasn’t easy with only one hand, but whatever was left of his pride made it impossible to ask Viktor for help.
“I just found it concernin’ that you had such a strong reaction to bein’ cut off from implants, especially since it ain’t your first time. You should have experienced some mild nausea, light oversensitivity, maybe a vicious headache, but your other injuries aside, it knocked you right out for days. I ran quite a few scans when I was treatin’ you but didn’t find much to explain it. How’ve you been feelin’ in the last few months? Eatin’ well? Sleepin’?
Was there even a point in lying?
“Not really, no.” Takemura said, unable to look the other man in the eye, fingers slipping as he rushed to fasten the rest of the buttons,
Viktor hummed and stopped typing away at the small screen he had been holding, letting his hands rest on his lap.
“Listen, uh, the past few months have been tough on all of us. I’m not good with this sort of stuff, but if you need someone to talk to, I can give you contact info to a great doc.”
“That will not be necessary, but thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Alright, but you know, if you need it, don’t hesitate to ask. With the way things turned out, I presume you’ll be staying in Night City for a while?”
“I’m afraid so. It would be unwise of me to come back to Japan right now.”
“I know it was supposed to be a short trip, so I don’t presume you came prepared for a longer stay, huh?
“I have some funds stashed away on a secure account, but it will take me some time to gain access to them. I will pay for your services, of course.”
“Nah, it’s not my fee I’m concerned about. I don’t want you to roam the streets in the dead of winter, not an eddy to your name. Suppose what I’m askin’ is if you have a place to stay?
“Not at the moment, no.”
“Then how about you stay in my place until you figure out what to do next? I’m not there all that much anyway, been spendin’ most nights at the clinic lately. Shame for the place to go unused like this and it seems you need it more than I do.”
Takemura hesitated. Viktor has already done so much for him, from saving his life to letting him run up a tab on little more than a word. He knew he'd never be able to repay such kindness, but the ripper was right. Before he jumps all the hoops to access the little cash he had stashed away on an account so deeply buried even Arasaka wasn't able to cut him off from it, more than a few days will pass. He still felt weak and even just the thought of spending the night outside was making Takemura miserable. At the same time, he didn’t want to stay in the clinic any longer, knowing that his presence had effectively stopped Viktor from taking up more than a few clients he trusted well enough.
“Thank you, Viktor,” Takemura said and bowed slightly, as deeply as the stitches would comfortably allow.
“No problem, really,” the man smiled and handed him a shard. “Just jack it in, it’ll tell you the location and grant access to the building. It’s a few blocks away, you won’t miss it.”
“See you later, I suppose?”
“Sure. Go get some rest before you go out to roam the streets and remember, your body ain’t got all the fancy tech to patch you up in no time. Folks like you often seem to forget that. Just take it easy, Takemura.”
“It’s Goro.”
“What?”
“Call me Goro. And I will, do not worry. I have...a lot of things to figure out.”
#goro takemura#goro takemura/viktor vector#victor vector#viktor vector#takemura/viktor#cyberpunk 2077#cp2077#cp77#the devil ending#cp2077 spoilers#writing#vikemura#takevik
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Undergarments of the late 1800s
Howdy folks! Today's post comes to you from the internet vortex and the fascinating, horrifying annals of history. While this is a special shout out to the red dead community, please note that this info can be kept in mind for just about everyone from 1850 to 1920.
Women's undergarments typically consisted of a chemise and drawers. For today's post, I'm pretending corsets, corset covers, and petticoats did not exist. We will also be largely ignoring the chemise. Today, good folks, I am focusing on the strange world of open crotch drawers and menstruation suspenders.
You see, wearing all the copious amounts of fabric of your drawers, chemise, petticoats, corsets, corset covers, stockings, and skirts was difficult in any given moment. For no uncertain reason did you want to remove all of these things to pee four times a day.
Enter open crotch drawers, your best friend.
These bad boys, also sometimes called pantalettes, were in use from the early 1800s (courtesy of the French), to the early 1900s. Cancan dancing originated in Paris in the early 1800s. That's right folks, early cancan dancers wore pantalettes. The wild dance often displayed the skin exposed by said drawers. This contributed to the dance becoming so iconically scandalous. (It should be noted that by the 1850s, cancan dancers switched to wearing crotched drawers. For some, unknown reason.)
So say you're a young lady of good repute, somewhere on the frontier of the American west. You wear your open crotch drawers under yards of heavy undergarments (which you generally don't kick up in wild french dances), just like everyone else, and you go about your life. And, when the time rolls around, you recieve your period. What's a gal to do?
Don't worry, you've got your Sears Roebuck bandage suspenders! Hooray!
This is an ad from 1870 in an unspecified catalogue. Menstrual bandage suspenders were your go to. Or, for versatility, you could also use a handy dandy menstrual bandage belt. The choice is yours! These were worn over your open crotched drawers, but under everything else. This patent, No. 463, 819, 1891 and places by a Mrs. Annie Willoughby, featured a trough placed right below your genitals.
The trough was filled with absorbent material - often medical bandage, cloth, or even wood chips. Variants on this trough included a bag suspended between your legs or just exchanagable cloths held between the legs.
These menstrual suspension devices were invented and donned around 1860 and mercifully fell out of use around the 1920s.
This post is dedicated to all the women who trundled through history in these and the fanfiction writers who are hunting for historical accuracy in order to walk in their shoes (and maybe pantalettes). Cheers!
Sources:
C. Willett Cunnington & Phillis Cunnington, The History of Underclothes 1951, Dover. ISBN 0-486-27124-2.
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pantalettes
http://www.mum.org/drawnocr.htm
https://www.cometoparis.com/secrets-and-stories-of-paris/history-of-the-french-cancan-s917
http://www.mum.org/suspend.htm#anchor948222
#red dead redemption#fanfiction#writing#writeblr#historical#women's clothing#history of menstruation#wild west#costuming
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Exterior Painting Shortcuts to Avoid
Exterior painting can be a fun task to find the maintenance for regarding by helping the outdoor of your habitat atmosphere more friendly in the neighborhood. It can be a pretentiousness to expose yourself and tolerate your quarters remain unique subsequently a paint plot that you arbitrate roughly speaking. There are some highly important prep trial to recall in the in the support on you begin the exterior home painting to realize the solid results.
As you begin to prepare your exterior painting you will mannerism to first wash anything off. Having any whole of dirt and grime gone reference to the home will make the paint not affix as skillfully, and it could peel in a relatively curt period of era.
Begin by spraying it off when a pressure washing unit that has a minimum of 2500 PSI this allows plenty knack to profit off the tougher grime and dirt that a hose can't cut off alone. During this times, you should go advance on more the exterior subsequent to a bleach unqualified that will plus kill mold and mildew that might be forming. These flourish best in dark places, and by tally a coat of paint to them it increases their unintended to be copious and contaminate your residence.
Next, saunter in the region of the exterior of the house and make appreciative there are no wasp nests execution. When you are painting and using a ladder these nasty insects can make a potential hazard, and their stings can suffer and deadly in some circumstances.
After you have over and the terminate along surrounded by your check, you will compulsion to begin scrapping aimless paint for the exterior painting job. Any place that has paint that is already peeling or bubbling should be removed to ensure a serene and uniform application of the paint you have purchased.
Some wood including supplementary wood may be tolerate apportion support to to if it had to be removed. If you had to build happening a decent repair job there may be raw exposed wood. exterior painting This wood will dependence to be primed since you put into group your exterior blazing painting. If you don't prime the wood to the lead you will experience lighter shades of paint in the areas where this wood is, and a obsession for more colored paint.
Once you have that completed you then compulsion to fill in the cracks that may take intend the exterior of the habitat. You should be using a elevation grade caulk that is intensely lithe in events the rest settles. This will moreover put taking place to insert the overall freshen of the unqualified paint job. If doable permit a few hours to allocate the caulk abstemious past you put into bureau painting.
Certain homes have glaze window panes past during your exterior painting you will dependence to repair these areas. They since occurring past the insulation of the home, and will have an overall impact vis--vis the showing off your flaming looks. The process is relatively easy and behind repaired you should wait a week since painting the place to ensure that everything has set properly. You can realize the current exterior house painting everywhere else and subsequently compensation to these sections a week sophisticated.
Just assistance on you profit ready for the exterior painting you obsession to make a attain of just a new tormented. Walk regarding the residence and be flattering you lid all the exterior fixtures. These adjoin the swap lights almost the walls, and entre handles. Getting paint upon these will require influence ahead cleanup that can be prevented by simply covering them.
Unless you are planning upon calculation together the deck to your painting, you should lid it as soon as a tarp. This way any paint that sprays out will not be fade away taking place upon it and extend your exterior habitat painting project. From this narrowing you will along with need to cover all walkways considering a tarp to prevent any paint from staining them. It can be hard to cut off it after the fact.
After all this has been done you are now ready to begin the job. With the new preparation you have done you have increased the value of the paint job and the look of the house. By protecting deferential areas you have in addition to reduced the amount of clean occurring you'll have to obtain at the definitely halt.
Business Name: Barrowcliffe Property Maintenance Limited
Address: Crichton House, Meeks Rd, Falkirk FK2 7EW
Email: [email protected]
Phone Number: 07801921946
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made moodboards for them :3
more info for each character under the cut bc i love to rant about my OCs
this is the main character!! mahzun, a non-bianry teen runaway who’s living in an abandoned mansion in the middle of the woods in maine. they have a thing called a ‘soul scar’ which is a metaphysical object/marking on their body that is a representation of something that happened to them that was *dun dun* scarring. their soul scar is a rose :3
this is jaro! all of the other main characters represent different seven deadly sins, and he represents wrath. he is also the embodiment of ‘>:3′ imo. will beat you tf up. hates shahnaz and azar and kinda hates orvar but she asserted her dominance Once and now he kinda respects her. kinda likes mahzun bc they’re on similar wavelengths.
this is shanaz!! he’s pride and he’s actually the nicest of the main charatcers. the only person he’s ever mean to is leafy and chef’s dad but those two kinda deserve it. he always tries to help mahzun with their problems but mahzun is like ‘ew’ so he’s sad about it, but he still tries. he butts heads a lot with jaro, but he gets along really with orvar and the two of them are the parents of the group and its cute
this is azar, who is sloth. she does have a more humanoid form but she’s too lazy to shape shift into it so they just look like this all the time. im planning on making an animatic for them to the song ‘blue haze’ by amber run bc it fits really well and she deserves it.
and last but not least, orvar, who is lust!! she’s also lowkey my favourite which explains the copious amounts of tramua i put into her backstory. she’s very motherly with mahzun, so she’s breaking the cycle of abuse she went though and giving mahzun an actually nice maternal figure so hell yeah. she’s also asexual but she still likes sex and i love her so much and i feel sorry for all the pain i put her through but its fine, she kills her dad in the end and takes his place on the throne so hell yeah
the other ‘main’ characters are leafy (gluttony), reed-g (greed), envy (envy), and then there’s also jelly, waterfall, sweetheart, and chef!
:3
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The info on that supernatural apartment complex sitcom AU.
• Casket Creek Apartments • ( HEU Exclusive Closed Verse )
The Trimble siblings had gotten bored in their nearly 50 years of un-death & with monsters now forced further into hiding ... the vampire boys wanted to create a social reprieve for creatures like them.
They took the only natural course of action they could contrive and spent another 20 years building the ultimate luxury apartment complex: nestled deep in the back woods of Deadwood, Louisiana for spooks of all shapes, sizes, colors, species & creeds.
The largest building overlooking the entire complex on the prettiest hill is where the twins live, well away from everyone else. As the property managers & landlords - they oversee the entire community & place residents in their new homes. It’s a lot of responsibility, but the respite from humanity that it provides residents is more than worth it !!!
( Map coming soon ! )
Entry into the apartment complex is on a recommendation basis - meaning residents must have a prior referral signed by either Jonah or Seth ... or ... must have already resided on the property prior to all the renovating, therefore grandfathering them in and securing a place for them in the apartments.
The Main Players:
Seth Levi Trimble: Effectively the Big Boss Vampire™ - in charge of the finances, resident referrals & technical aspects of running the day to day operations. Often sends out the monthly newsletter via email & plans fun and exciting activities for residents. Usually hangs out in the main office so he is accessible to residents should they need him. His other job is being a film or music video director - which takes some of his focus away from the apartments. His personality in this verse is much more laid back, flirty & comedically ‘ evil ‘. ( Please don’t bring real problems to him because tbh ... he’s just vibin’ and having fun with his friends & copious amounts of cash. If there were ever a dire emergency, please search for Jonah Levi Trimble !!! )
Jonah Levi Trimble: The Vampire Lackey for the Big Boss™ - All the daily responsibilities fall on Jonah’s shoulders, and he’s often found roaming the grounds and problem solving to the best of his ability. Although he’s an established artist with much fame to his name ... he enjoys the little things. Jonah makes sure that resident’s are getting along and above all are happy with their experience. His personality is still pretty in-tact from other verses.
Kennedy Everlee Arden: The Seductress - er - Succubus™ - A resident that lives in one of the big rentable houses closer towards the twins’ home. Kennedy runs an online store that specializes in custom making lingerie & sex toys. Her hobbies include baking, sewing, writing on her blog, teaching a pole dancing class in the community gym space and modeling primarily on Instagram for indie fashion designers. She’s always rallying for causes that help women better themselves & is often found posting flyers promoting consent, safe sex + fetish practices, and the like. She volunteers quite a bit for many causes and is very active in the community. As such, she has gained a little favor from the twins and can influence small changes being made to their personal utopia. Her powers are straightforward: She can manipulate the senses and knows a little magic too ! She gets her energy from seducing || having sex with humans + other monsters, though it has to be consensual and on the up and up to actually fuel her power. )
She has a True Form™ when she isn’t playing human to make everyone else feel more comfortable. Her usual appearance is a sexy & physically perfect looking blonde woman with gray eyes. ( Her height can vary depending on what makes the person comfortable around her. ) Usually at the apartment complex, she’s her usual six feet tall, not including heels !!! Her true form looks closer to an amazon warrior with skin that is dusty rose colored & eyes that are rose gold in tone.
Nora Gwendolyn Bennett: What An Angel™ - An angel on earth, Nora lives in the apartment building by the main offices. She’s the first to welcome new residents and show them around. Nora runs an old fashioned apothecary & caters to both humans and monsters. She’s often roped into Kennedy’s causes and tries her best to help raise awareness for them. She uses her magic to make other people’s lives better. Her presence is also a natural pain suppressant. Nora spends her time volunteering both inside the complex & in the human world.
#• Casket Creek Apartments • ( HEU Exclusive Closed Verse )#• Consider My Existence A Never - Ending ' BRUH ' Moment. • ( OOC. )#• Don't Take Me For a ' New Testament ' Kinda Girl. • ( Dash Commentary. )
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152 - The Great Golden Hand
Here it comes.
Here it comes!
The Great Golden Hand!
Hurrah, rejoice! It nears, it nears!
Welcome to Night Vale.
Wonderful news, residents. City officials report that within the next few hours, we should expect the arrival of the Great Golden Hand. This will mark the first visit from the Great Golden Hand in nearly 80 years. Older residents and those who up until recently did not age will remember the last visit fondly. Those were the days, when the air felt crisper somehow, as though growing older does not cause a degradation of self, but rather a degradation of everything outside of self. We project our own decline upon the world and complain that everything was righter and better at the time that we coincidentally were at our physical and mental peak.
But I digress. Because everything was better during the Great Golden Hand, that’s just objective. We will update you on the Hand as it approaches. But in the meantime, make sure that you are stocked up on a supply of clean water, adequate canned goods for five to eight years, and copious amounts of human hair for the offering. If you do not have hair, please make sure to stop by the hair bank this morning to pick up hair generously donated by your neighbors, for those who crave human hair by the fistful.
But first, today’s forecast. Rain later, or no rain. Or sun, or snow, or none of those things. There will be some light clouds along the horizon, or it will be clear and you will stand out on a lawn gone prickly with the conservation of water. And you will see that you can see all the way across the world, even though you know that you can only see about three miles to to curvature of the Earth, but it’s metaphorical, this distance, and with the clarity of the sky, it will seem much further than that. Or there will be clouds, so none of that will happen and you will l only sit in your kitchen, eating leftovers and not thinking even a little about everything you’ve never done and you will never get to do.
Or you won’t wake up today. There will come a day where you don’t, you know, and then none of this will matter. And the sky will be a perfect blue and you won’t see it. Or it will rain. Or no rain. Or sun. Or snow. Or none of those things.
All of that later today, or tomorrow, or never.
This has been today’s forecast.
We continue to track the Great Golden Hand, as it takes over much of the western horizon. Larry Leroy out on the edge town reported that flowers have begun growing and dying in bursts all morning. Cycles of life that passes quickly as air through his lungs. “These plants are speeding up,�� he said, or else we are slowing down. Maybe thousands of years have passed and the only ones that know are the flowers.” [laughs] Larry, what a joker!
City government tells us we have nothing to fear from the Great Golden Hand, although city government is in a bit of disarray, as of course we do not have a mayor, and city council has announced that they forgot it was their sister’s wedding this weekend in Tulsa, and they need to leave town immediately. So city government currently consists of Claire Scott at the hall of public records. Claire is a woman-shaped apparition that haunts the dark hallways of the building and is responsible for at least ten deaths. It’s not an ideal situation leaving her in charge, but at least someone is there, as the Great Golden Hand draws ever closer.
Let’s take a quick look at the headlines.
Controversy has erupted over a new McDonald’s commercial, as many say that the victims offered on the altar weren’t properly consecrated. Lenny Butler, who has no official (–) [0:05:47] on religion or ceremony, but who considers himself something of a sacrifice aficionado and self-taught expert, dismissed the commercial as, quote, “more hack co-opting by corporate culture.” He shook his head in disbelief as he showed reporters a copy of the commercial.
“Look at this, he said. “Does that axe look like it has been buried for 100 days in a graveyard? I bet some underpaid PA bought that axe at an Ace Hardware the day of the shoot. And look at how the subsequent bone and blood slurry is just kind of spilling everywhere! There’s no thought at all to proper aesthetic flow to the sacrifice!” Lenny concluded.
Executives at national McDonald’s headquarters expressed horror and disbelief when asked about the commercial, saying they had nothing to do with this and why are we making them watch this traumatizing footage. “Why?” the executives repeated over and over, in smaller and smaller voices. “Why?”
Well, that’s it for the headlines.
And now traffic.
There is a crack in the wall.
There is a twinge in your heart.
There is someone coming, but don’t worry, there is also someone going.
There is a lamp in an alcove in a house on a mountain.
There is a hand that reaches out and turns on the lamp.
There is an eye that squints thru the dim light, trying to see what isn’t there.
There is a name.
Yes, there is a name, but we will never know what it is.
There is a dusty foot scooting along rough wood. There is a tree outside, and it moans through the fierce wind off the peaks. There is a small flower in a pot and it is three days from dying.
There is a lamp in an alcove in a house on a mountain and a hand that reaches out and turns it off.
There is a car on a road to the mountain.
There is a mind dreaming that this time, the reunion will go differently.
There is a hand on a steering wheel and it trembles.
There is a foot upon a gas pedal, and it wants to ease up, to turn around, to accelerate toward anything but a house on a mountain.
There is an eyelash upon an eyelid, upon an eye, upon a skull, upon a lifetime of doubt.
There is a tree across part of the road, and maybe that could be an excuse, but no. The hand upon the wheel turns, and finds the narrow way thru, and continues on, toward the house on a mountain.
There is a crack in the wall.
There is a twinge in your heart.
There is someone coming. But don’t worry, there is also someone going.
This has been traffic.
I’m being told by a multitude of disembodied mouths, that appeared in my office and began worbling in a singsongy chant, that the Great Golden Hand is only minutes away from covering the entire area. If you have not already sought shelter, now would be the time to regret screwing up so badly on such an important day. Remember to not look directly at the Great Golden Hand. The Great Golden Hand should not be mixed with alcohol or other medications without advice from your doctor. Unfortunately, the Great Golden Hand has taken all the doctors. Also all life insurance adjusters and all dog walkers. If you notice sparks, that is part of the process. If you feel a fission, that is also part of the process. If you see the color green, that is not part of the process and you should panic.
The process will protect us. The Great Golden Hand will protect us. Long live the Hand.
Meanwhile, just a brief notice before we are overtaken by the Hand. It seesm that, oh this is interesting, that the family of Frank Chen has filed a missing persons report with the sheriff’s secret police. Now, you might remember that Frank Chen’s dead body was found several years ago, covered in claw marks and burns, and we all assumed he was dead. But then he was seen around town driving his pickup truck, and now he looked like a five-headed dragon. Sure, he looks completely different, but the dragon had a New Jersey driver’s license that indicated that he indeed was Frank Chen. And so that was the day it was proven to us that the dead can come back to life looking completely different. Anyway, the Chen family says that Frank was driving out from the east coast to see his brother, and disappeared somewhere between Oklahoma and Los Angeles. It took him several years to find Night Vale, although our recent change back to a normal timeline has at least put us a little more in sync with the rest of the country. The Chen family is unsure what a sheriff’s secret police is, nor what is so secret about them if they drive around in clearly labeled cars, but they would appreciate any help at all in finding their long lost Frank.
Come to think of it, I haven’t seen rank since the day that Hiram McDaniels, the five- oh sorry, four-headed dragon, left Night Vale. Where did Frank go? If you have any information, tell a bird. Birds are real loudmouths and the info will be all over town in no time.
And now for the community calendar.
This Friday, Martin McCaffrey is presenting an art show in the grain silo out back from the old Cooper farm. The silo will be kept in absolute darkness, and each (-) [0:12:40] will be shoved into the abandoned tower all along. They will not be able to see anything except the dancing light that lives in their eyelids. But they will know that they are with art, that art is indeed there, just beyond their fingertips in the darkness watching them. Suggested donation is five dollars, as in Martin suggests you donate that or you won’t be able to get in.
Saturday morning, we’re getting towards the end of the summer softball league, and once again we have the annual grudge match between Steve Carlsberg’s Happy Hyenas, and Susan Willman’s Bad at Softball Losers. Not their real team name, but the name was kind of forgettable, and I think this one is more catchy. Ugh, Susan Willman! [mumbles] Tooling around in that Prius she bought after her Mini Cooper was filled with jellyfish and then towed. [cheerfully] See you on Saturday morning! Where we will, I assume, be cheering on my wonderful brother-in-law Steve.
Sunday, Leopold Tuesdale has called for a community meeting. Leopold is the former CEO of the former cereal company Flaky-O’s, until both were acquired in a hostile takeover by Kellogg’s. Leopold was last seen being pulled into a van by Kellogg’s executives, but he has returned. His face is gaunt and it appears he has aged several decades, or perhaps a few very stressful years. He wears a cape and one big leather glove. The topic of the community meeting is the labyrinth that lays just beyond human sight, and the harbingers of that labyrinth, who drive vans full of wooden grates. He also want to discuss parking for the antiques fair, which he feels has gotten out of hand on Grub Street.
Monday is a fun dinosaur presentation from local dinosaur expert Joel Eisenberg. This is part of the Applebee’s visiting experts program that invites local scholars to share their knowledge, and also prices jalapeno poppers at in irresistible 3,99 for 12. Wow! With a deal like that, I can’t wait to learn more about those big spitty lizards, or whatever they were.
Tuesday – is the day you’ve been waiting for. Yes, you could have achieved your dreams earlier, but it always seemed easier to plan to do them some day. Well, Tuesday is that day, and now it’s time to finally buckle down and get those dreams going. I wouldn’t delay, because it seems that Wednesday is the day – you die. So stay positive, and get it done quickly.
And finally, next Thursday the Night Vale municipal fire authority is holding a mandatory fire drill. When you hear the siren, burn as many things as you can.
This has been the community calend- oh! Oh, I see it! I see it, it is here! Aaaaaaah, it is above me! The [booming sound] the [booming sound]
[“Drones” by Epicenter
https://epicentermetal.bandcamp.com]
Part 1. In which the rabbits get their way.
Before there were buildings, there were hills. In the hills, there were rabbits. All they wanted from life was food, a bit of sunshine, and to multiply across the land. And so they did. Most stories are happy if you end them at the right time.
Part 2. In which we approach.
Aah, to see us then, when we were moving – toward the west, or else toward the east, or else south or north, but it wasn’t the direction. It was the momentum of it. We put ourselves out there, made ourselves available for new opportunities. Never mind the drawbacks, and never mind who gets hurt. That’s a problem for who comes next. We are here, so we can get there. And there’s just nothing else to worry about, but the getting.
Part 3. In which comes the kingdom.
Great towers and great halls. A crowd looking upwards and a king looking downwards. What a time to be alive! What a terrible time to be dead! How much the dead are missing out on. Death is stupid, and we must only celebrate life. Those who are gone are gone, and it’s probably their fault anyway. We are alive because of our wits, and because we are naturally inclined to be alive. “How good we are,” we murmur, “and how beautiful our king is.”
Part 4. In which all is thought lost.
But then – time came for us too. We weren’t who we used to be, but we also weren’t who we would be next either. There was this awful in-between, and we had to stay in it for so long. A king grew tired on his throne. We all grew so tired.
Part the last. In which we are each born anew.
After – there were the buildings. There were the hills. In the hills lived rabbits. And we lived there too. All we wanted was food, a bit of sunshine, and to multiply across the land, and so we did. Most stories are happy if you wait long enough. The [booming sound effect] gives, the [booming sound effect] takes.
Stay tuned next for a slow drifting toward what we’ve always wanted, interrupted by the constant distraction of what seems easiest, and from one discipline of the [booming sound] to another:
Good night,
Night Vale,
Good night.
Today’s proverb: The universe contains, among other things, black holes, vast clouds of gas and light, endless void, a diamond planet, and your tiny body.
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Copy and paste, and be sure to add in your own answers and tag some friends!) I wasn’t tagged by @newty but it looked like fun.
general info:
♡ preferred name: Dax! Or Wyda. Or Alex. Or Dork. Usually Dax, though.
♡ age: 23
♡ pronouns: She/her
♡ sexuality: Lesbian
♡ height: 5'6-ish
♡ hair colour: Currently pink!
♡ relationship status: Engaged <3
favourite things:
♡ favourite colour: Purple
♡ favourite song: Dear lord. What week is it? I have a million favourites, but for the purposes of this....Girls Like Girls by Hayley Kiyoko, or Polaroid by Imagine Dragons? Or, ooh, Heir of Grief from Homestuck Collide!
♡ favourite band / artist: both the above artists, Alt-J, Syd Matters, and I have a big soft spot for Mogwai.
♡ favourite youtubers: hbomberguy
♡ favourite food: Pastaaaaa.
♡ favourite family member: My eldest sister, Nat.
♡ favourite bird: Robins, and kestrels.
♡ favourite animal: *side-eyes my username*
♡ favourite celebrity: Hmm. I really don’t know. I have crushes on plenty, but I can’t really pick out any who I’m particularly passionate about as a person?
♡ favourite time of day: Late evening.
♡ favourite holiday(s): Christmas.
♡ favourite season: Winter!
♡ favourite fruit: Strawberries, maybe? Or...maybe pears?
♡ favourite flower: Queen of the Night Tulips.
♡ favourite emoji(s): <3 ;D <> :P (plus special bonus <33333333)
♡ favourite app: Shazam. I love finding new songs, and I love being able to track down new songs I like.
♡ favourite hobby: Gaming, writing (but I don’t do the latter anywhere near enough), reading copious amounts of fanfiction.
♡ favourite country: Iceland. Iceland is so great, you guys.
♡ favourite weather: Heavy rain and cold if I don’t have to go out in it. Clear weather with chill that has the tiniest bit of bite to it if I have to go out.
♡ favourite element: Lightning. Unless it means the four fundamental ones, in which case Air. Unless it means actual periodic table elements, in which case I’m a sucker for Tungsten, Silver, and Argon.
♡ favourite language: German is way more elegant than people give it credit for, even though I can’t speak more than a handful of words of it myself.
name of:
♡ name of your crush: Don’t call me out like this.
♡ name of your pet(s): George!
♡ name(s) of your best friend(s): Hayley!!!! Zano, CZ, and Patrick.
this or that?
♡ introvert or extrovert: Introvert.
♡ nerdy or sassy: Nerdy.
♡ tall or short: Short?
♡ looks or personality: Personality.
♡ homesick or traveler: Traveller?
♡ musician or artist: Musician.
♡ woods or city: Woods, even though to live I’d prefer to be in a city.
♡ tv or youtube: Youtube.
♡ phone or computer: Computer.
♡ family or money: Depends on your definition of what family is.
♡ books or movies: Movies. I read way less than I should. There are so many books that sound good, but there’s such an initial investment to get into them.
♡ food or sleep: Food! Doesn’t help that sleep is Not Rewarding for me.
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Youichi Nakamura Char. Info
This is written in a little bit of a different style its meant to mirror a government document.
Name: Nakamura, Youichi Jesus 中村今村耶穌
Age (approx.): 29
Birthdate: November 14th 2387 二三八七年十一月十四號
Birthplace: Lower Lanfeng, Lanfeng City, Venus
Status/Caste: Exile, former member of several criminal cabals endemic to the upper reaches of the Venusian floating resort city of Lanfeng, catering to wealthy casino bosses and the banking clans which permeate the city’s governance, Mr. Nakamura is indubitably guilty of a litany of crimes the most severe of which follow: larceny, extortion, assault both of commoners and more egregiously of higher blood, flouting and denigrating the largesse of our refulgent emperor and the heptarchy, and breaching the computer data terminals belonging to the nascent outpost of MCI within the city. Although Mr. Nakamura was by virtue of pecuniary aggrandizement relatively wealthy compared to many people who are born in the lower slums of Lanfeng, however his family shares no blood moieties with any of the noble families either through marriage or through consanguinity, and as such is considered to be of common heritage, thusly all personal wealth was bequeathed to his paramour after its confiscation. Mr. Nakamura is suspected of an even more severe transgression, the murder of Aynala DeBeers of the DeBeers-Tang banking and mining corporation, he was narrowly exculpated of the crime by a paucity of evidence, and the winnowing chances of conviction in a protracted trial. It is worth noting that Nakamura’s implication in the crime is no mere calumny, his role as the hacker and occasional enforcer for an avaricious and rapacious crime gang which employs a wide sundry of executioners means he could have been contracted to murder along with his typical tasks. Narrowly dodging the death penalty by escaping the murder conviction, Nakamura’s other crimes still resulted in the glorious viceroy Ivan Ngyuen deigning to offer him an ultimatum with the options of being sent to asteroid labor camps or being impressed into colonization of the outer solar system, which is the path he out of his own volition selected. Nakamura’s government issued threat level is defined at level A, the penultimate value, due to his criminal activity, technological erudition, as well as the lingering suspicion of his involvement in murder.
Occupation (if applicable): Mr. Nakamura’s assigned role in his exile was to be as part of an expeditionary force meant to spearhead colonization of the outer solar rim, specifically the Jovian system, as I am confident anyone who has the classification to become privy to these documents is already well aware, he was delegated to become the chief mechanic and technological expert of the nascent outpost in the abyssal plain of the satellite Europa which remains largely unexplored, and comprehending the biota which is endemic to the biome is germane to any further settlement of the moon. He will working under the supervision of a security Synth known as 4L3-X, as to ensure that any inklings of intransigence are swiftly quelled prior to their ability to interfere with the mission.
Appearance: Nakamura’s skin tone is a dark sallow, having light umber overtones with more auric undertones, as expected for someone of his ancestry. His eyes have epicanthic folds characteristic of Asiatic descent with lissome raven black eyebrows which arch slightly at the slope of his brow ridge. His eyes are ringed by a slight shadow which he often accentuates with make-up to be imposing. The hue of the eyes is mostly aptly described as an ardent amber color, with nuances of both cerise and a sylvan wood brown. Amongst his facial features the jaw line features imminently and is a tad rectangular with a prominent chin. Nakamura stands at 1.8 meters with a weight of 82 kilograms. Obsession with his appearance and his employment as an enforcer, has led to the development of a greatly toned physique with great strength, his shoulders are a tad bit disproportionate with his trunk as a result of this insinuating the overreliance on chest exercise in his physical activity regimen. Arranging his carbon black facial hair into a goatee and a thin line moustache takes up a copious amount of his morning routine, which was observed during his captivity. His hair is a similar obsidian color and is generally worn in a close cropped style with copious amounts of styling gel applied in order to spike it. Sartorially, Nakamura enjoys garishly patterned suits emblazoned with foliage, low-cut silk V-necks, as well as expensive shorts and slacks. He also was a flagrant violator of sumptuary laws by choosing to wear a copious amount of jewelry, including gold which is expressly forbade for someone of commoner status including gold and sapphires, however, all of his illicit jewels were confiscated and will remain government property in perpetuity. Lastly, Nakamura has extensive tattooing across the entirety of his back, most of which features iconography associated with Japanese culture along with stylized depictions of Scorpions and Tigers.
Personality 性格: Successfully maintains a stoic facade even under extreme duress, enigmatic, former members of both the Flying Tigers and Golden Blood gangs attest to his rather laconic and intimidating personality, however they also drew a direct juxtaposition for the complete transmogrification he could undergo in situations which incurred his wroth, with former victims of his brand of extortion often noting his Machiavellian stemming in part from what one [Redacted]; an account which used to serve at the behest of the Venusian Yakuza; best described as an “…abyssal magnetism, the way his eyes could bore into the reaches your very soul, exhuming the most stygian thoughts. It was almost as if a conflagration solely made of the most gelid ice burned in the surface of his eyes, the darkest of scintilla” Nakamura was not on the most amiable terms with the crime-boss, in spite of his deft manipulation and hacking skills he was referred to as “recalcitrant”, “intransigent”, and “pugnacious” during his absence from meetings. He was also known to employ his purportedly debonair appearance to his advantage, leveraging salacious behavior when interacting with those whom can presumed to be susceptible to such facades, however his paramour remarked that he knew of no known instance of infidelity. The aforementioned fact seems to be part of a broader trend, for the façade which Mr. Nakamura dons in public seems to be the antithesis of his domestic life, both his paramour Nikita [Redacted] and his mother Marissa [Redacted] described a man who was profoundly romantic at his core, even sometimes maudlin, as well as someone who was inordinately affectionate. His eldest child similarly seemed quite melancholy at the possibility of his father’s exile, and seemed to hold the man in great esteem. The main point of similarity was that he maintained his terseness even at home, often preferring tactile expression of his emotions rather than verbal, along with vagaries in his moods. Psychoanalyst [Redacted], who performed the hypnosis sessions upon Nakamura, believes this dichotomy in his chosen mien intimates a broader instability in his personal identity, specifically a peculiar fixation on machismo (a scion of his father absconding at a young age) and the need to project a sense of virulence and masculinity designed to guise a in truth rather fragile ego and the opprobrium still extant in Catholic communities over homosexuality, this is supported by the garish opulence of his home as well. She also classified him as displaying a number of symptoms characterizing Borderline Personality Disorder. His capricious, violent, and disobedient personality in combination with the lingering suspicion of his guilt is the central reason as to why his threat designation has been elevated to the echelon of A, which would usually be reserved for only the most truculent of individuals, the vacillations which can characterize his tumultuous moods makes his stability in a crisis unreliable, as such the leader of the mission has the additional onus of canvassing his behavior for any signs of duplicity which could spark any further rebellious tendencies, however it is worth noting his knowledge of electronics makes him an invaluable asset to this mission assuming that the signals detected indeed end up being genuine evidence of artificial constructions on the planet and not mere disruptions in the magnetic field, as such, should Nakamura behave in a manner lacking a certain “decorum” we have outfitted him with a repressed code activator during his hypnosis sessions. For your convenience, merely state the word “coruscating” followed by a command and Nakamura’s Phi-2351 neurological implants will coerce him into obedience, however only use this sparingly, the electrical output would overload the grey matter if used at regular intervals; it is meant for only dire situations.
Education: Recipient of a Master’s degree in Computer Science from the College of Technology based in the upper districts of Lanfeng, where he was a scholarship candidate based on his penury status, once again solely the result of the generosity of the Venusian court, and was amongst the zenith of his class in terms of academic marks. It appears that during this time he was scouted for his deft hacking abilities by the Golden Blood gang(later absorbed into the Flying Tigers), who entreated him through extending an offer of subsidizing his mother’s income in the interim period of entering the organization as a neophyte. Choosing to specialize primarily in the rather arcane field of data terminal management surprisingly turned into a major boon for Nakamura considering the paucity of government surveillance on the planet, which allowed him to furtively purloin extensive sums from the merchants and casino bosses who caved to intimidation tactics. Mr. Nakamura’s public education in contrast was rather rudimentary, being sent to the systems of Lower Lanfeng with the majority of the tail end of the Cupric class which populated the city slums, and as such also retained networks of allies amongst the demotic classes.
Technical Skills: Nakamura’s talents in the area of coding and hacking should not be understated, he operates on a level of sophistication analogous to only the most adroit agents employed in the annals of MCI history, he has managed to surpass what were prior thought to be insuperable barriers to Hackers including the ZhangChengSan or the Third Great Wall along with the Moscow invective tracer. Data terminals remain one of the sole bastions which keeps the Venusian colonies from plunging into tumult for their role in maintaining MCI operations until infrastructure is updated in compliance with the new Surveillance standards, and he managed to override several head terminals within Lanfeng. Nakamura is a savant with computational systems as well, and was documented to be the secondary mechanic working on Synths and androids which were illicitly employed in the gambling and prostitution coteries by the Flying Tigers after their merger with the Golden Blood, as such it is worth once again reiterating that Nakamura should never be made aware of the true nature of his guardian. Nakamura also used his amassed wealth to fund several implants (besides those which he is unwittingly carrying as per MCI regulation to quell high level plants), and has Gama-994 implants to ameliorate ocular problems which plagued him as a child according to his mother, as well as an Epsilon prosthetic to replace a portion of his hand which he was made bereft of during a territorial conflict between rival gangs of Yakuza, both of which grant his a slightly elevated physical prowess in addition to his natural upper body strength. Infelicitously his talents are going to be squandered in preforming rudimentary computer repair in the Jovian system, at least in the temporary until proper deference to the government can be instilled into him, at which point he could prove to be an asset to the MCI.
Political/World Views: Ardent antipathy to the Auric and the Sapphiric classes was apparent during the conscious and torpor-induced phases of Nakamura’s interrogation, with special rancor reserved for the viceroy of Venus and the nobility of Lanfeng. Whether this animus was engendered following his implication and subsequent arrest for the murder of Aynala DeBeers or was already extant prior to his capture is concurrently unknown, yet, it can be extrapolated through Nakamura’s personality profile that disregard for authority was likely ingrained into him from a young age with the absconding Father and the embezzling uncle. His hypnotherapy sessions allowed our agents to elucidate the fact that his perspective and philosophical outlook is rather negative, and as expected from someone with such a turbulent personality, it also appeared that a deeper penchant for both the occult and spirituality is obfuscated beneath a veneer of aggressive stance against organized religion.
Orientation: Undeclared, since adolescence Mr. Nakamura has ardently and aggressively refused to cooperate with data garnering drones in the procurement census data on Venus during the annual count. The last extant record of Mr. Nakamura’s personal data in government sanctioned data banks prior to his aforementioned arrest and interrogation was retrieved when he was only fourteen, before the question is cogent. Due to the dearth of operatives within the Venusian colonies, and their age, direct surveillance data is insufficient as well. Unfortunately, Mr. Nakamura remained recalcitrant even when subjected to the most efficacious extraction techniques, as such no verbal confession of his preferences was retrieved either. His laconic nature forces us to theorize based upon the parentage of his three children that Mr. Nakamura is a Homosexual, with the actuarial division giving this approximately 96% confidence, however this is merely an extrapolation and thusly should not engender a sense of complacence amongst the female settlers who will share housing with him. Considering his belligerent nature and criminal past MIC strongly cautions against EVER entering an amorous relationship with him.
Religious Affiliation: Pouring through the census data from the last available date, Mr. Nakamura appears to have abjured formal religious participation since adolescence, with his response being recorded as Agnostic. In addition, the official promulgation necessitating the return of temple attendance rolls is generally regarded as moot amongst the Venusians, due to the lack of an entrenched bureaucracy, so the trajectory of Mr. Nakamura’s spirituality remains nebulous. Meticulous analysis of interview footage captured subsequent his arrest, along with that of his hypnosis sessions, both show Mr. Nakamura’s demonstrable disregard for social morays and a disdain for the avariciousness which he believes permeates any ecclesiastical organization. Nakamura’s sentiments were likely engendered by the scandal which besmirches his matrilineal line, caused his uncle who used his position as a Catholic priest to embezzle copious amounts of money given in donation. The opprobrium which resulted from this event is theorized by MCI psychoanalyst [Redacted] to be a quintessential factor contributing to his descent into poverty and thusly criminality, as such it should be regarded as a topic of great sensitivity and should be avoided in conversation. By pilfering through his confiscated personal belongings, the agency discovered several religious talismans of both a Shinto and Christian nature, intimating some level of personal spirituality.
Children: Known father of three children, a set of twins both aged 2 and another child 4, based upon SNP analysis across the gamut of retrieved genetic material for the Five Heavenly Cities, all of which were produced by inverse Oogenesis and subsequent extra-maternal incubation with another man, lending further credence to MCI’s hypothesis of Mr. Nakamura’s preferences. The other father in question was the aforementioned former Flying Tigers member and executioner turned MIC double Agent Nikita “Nick” [Redacted] known colloquially as “Ice-pick Nick”, who was invaluable to the dissolution of the criminal syndicate and unwittingly the arrest of his paramour. Nakamura has intentionally not been made privy to this fact.
Star Sign 生肖: Scorpio
Nationality 種族: Japanese Hispanic
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New Post has been published on The Bouncing Tigger Reads
New Post has been published on https://www.tiggerreviews.com/new-and-witchy/
New and Witchy
Guest post
An Interview With My Author
By Rosemary Bell – Heroine of New Witch on the Block
What made you decide to write my story?
As someone who has spent time as a single mum, I am fascinated by the plight of women who are striving to slay it in their everyday lives: mums who work full-time, mums who are at home full-time (because that has a whole other set of challenges), mums who are in-between, or run their own businesses… the list goes on! I knew I wanted you to be a witch, and that I wanted moving to have to be a difficult experience for you. Giving you a downright reprehensible ex-husband whose influence you needed to overcome so that you could bloom into the woman you always were deep down inside meant I got to see your grow throughout the book. Adding the witchery on top of all that seemed like a logical step – but you needed to believe in yourself before you could believe in magic!
I see. Randy sure is a piece of work, so thanks for that I guess? Moving on – why Mosswood?
I’ve always been fascinated with the United States, ever since I was a little girl. A few failed attempts at visiting has meant that for the short-term future at least, my experiences of the US will need to happen through books, TV shows, and movies. I love the pictures painted of places like Bon Temps (Charlaine Harris’ Sookie Stackhouse series) Mystic Falls (L. J. Smiths’ The Vampire Diaries series) and New Orleans in general – so it made sense to set my series in the South. My editor is Southern and is an incredible source of real-life info, helping me adapt my language. And then once I knew I wanted a really tiny town surrounded by woods, I got my ten year old daughter to draw me a map! Kids are so inventive, and she thought of things that I never would have thought of. I loved collaborating with her on the project, and the story is so much richer for it.
That’s actually adorable, bless her! But for real now – was the palmetto bug really necessary? And the biceps? Were the biceps really necessary? And the laundry machines? The skunks?! Actually nevermind, we aren’t speaking.
Stop being overly dramatic, it was just a bug? And sexy biceps. And… well okay, the skunks probably didn’t need to scare the crap out of you, so I’m a teeny bit sorry for those.
Did you feel even remotely bad for any of the hurdles you threw my way during the course of the book?
Not really! The scene with the eggs was difficult to write, because I was actually imagining it happening to myself and my daughter as I was writing it and I shed a tear or two, I can’t lie! But everything that made it into the book was totally necessary for your growth and development as a character, so I can’t be too sorry! And I mean, sure Declan is annoying, but could you really call him a ‘hurdle’? Heh.
What about the naked magic casting? Did you feel bad about that? Because that was just unfair.
Not in the slightest, and I will do it again in a heartbeat. You needed to come out of your shell, figuratively and literally – and those scenes really demonstrate your transition from Randy’s Rosie to your own person in so many ways. In fact, the last of those scenes might just be my favourite scene in the whole book!
What’s in store for me in Jealousy’s a Witch? The title sounds ominous.
There will be a huge raft of new characters, and new places in Mosswood to explore in-depth! The plot definitely takes a turn – you discover that Declan’s been keeping a pretty big secret from you that makes you re-think your whole association with him. Maggie will experience a lot of growth in the book too, and the main plotline revolves around some dangerous situations for her. It’s gonna be a wild ride!
That makes me worried for Maggie! Will she be okay?
Absolutely – but it wouldn’t be the type of book I write without a little drama! She will come out of Jealousy’s a Witch with a rather cool experience of her own – but I don’t wanna spoil it for you!
Author Bio
Author by day, Netflix connoisseur by night.
Louisa likes Pina Coladas and gettin’ caught in the rain. Determined to empty her brain of stories, she writes across several genres including fantasy, speculative fiction, contemporary and historical fiction, and romance.
She lives in Mandurah, Western Australia, and drinks more coffee than is good for her. When she’s not writing or researching projects, Louisa enjoys spending time with her family, and Harriet The Great (Dane). Hobbies include playing video games, watching copious amounts of tv, and various craft-related initiatives.
She strongly believes that the truth is still out there.
http://www.louisawest.com
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16738794.Louisa_West
https://www.facebook.com/louisawestauthor
ttps://www.instagram.com/louisa_west
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Yue Ju Wan – promotes the movement of Qi, releases stagnation, depression, wood attack earth
Cang Zhu (rhizoma atractylodis) Chuan Xiong (radix ligustici chuanxiong) Xiang Fu (rhizoma cyperi rotundi) Shan Zhi Zi (fructus gardeniae jasminoidis) Shen Qu (massa fermentata) *Equal amounts of each, powder. Indications: focal distension, stifling sensation in the chest and abdomen, fixed pain in the hypochondria, belching, vomiting, acid regurgitation, mild coughing with copious sputum…
Source
The post Yue Ju Wan – promotes the movement of Qi, releases stagnation, depression, wood attack earth appeared first on Health-Info.org.
from Health-Info.org https://health-info.org/traditional-chinese-medicine/single-herbal-formulas/yue-ju-wan/
from Health Info Org https://healthinfoorg.tumblr.com/post/189312501984
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Dear Tom again.
I don’t accept Evolution because I know it’s not true. If you haven’t realised it already Tom you will see that I have the convictions of a dictator. But hey if evolution was true it would be a different story wouldn’t it. I suspect that you’re not crazy about the idea of looking at all the material that rubbishes Evolution. I understand that. You want it to be true. It appeals to us doesn’t it. To you and me and countless millions. But I don’t buy it Tom. You do. It makes you feel important. You won’t agree with this Tom but with all due respect to you this is where I understand you and countless millions like yourself better than you guys do. Ah but this is the price I have to pay isn’t it Tom and suffer the slings and arrows for being one thats ridiculed for my views and for daring to tell others I know them better than they do. Hey Tom, there is always one possibility and it’s this. I am right. Atheism is a most splendid delusion. Your father wasn’t delusional. But your friend Richard Dawkins is. He is absolutely 100% deluded. I have given you good advice Tom but you are yet to take it. And that’s to cry out to God and tell him that if He exists you will follow and obey Him if He reveals Himself to you. But Tom you don’t really want God to exist. But you are so deluded you don’t actually see this. You actually think otherwise. Not only have you never cried out to God in all sincerity but you gloss over it and never write about it. You speak about God and say if He exists, He will know you did what you believed to be right. But think about this for a minute. Let’s for a moment assume the worst. You die and you meet God. You say, hey God I did what I believed to be right. Ok let’s say you say that. What would you say if God said to you. Why didn’t you do what your pen friend Paul told you to do? He said to go to a lonely beach or the woods and yell out sincerely to God to reveal Himself or kneel somewhere quietly. You never did that Tom. He said to make a study as to why intelligent people like Professor Walter Veith do not believe in Evolution. You haven’t done this either Tom. He said to do a study on all the prophesies in the bible that have supposedly come true. There are books on the subject and copious amounts of info on line. But Tom you haven’t done that either. He said Tom you have a brain. I wanted you to watch copious amounts on NDE videos because I knew that you would eventually see it isn’t a bunch of hallucinations but Tom you wouldn’t watch them either except for maybe a few. I said watch truck loads of them. Make it a study of them. I got Paul to tell you to do it but you dismissed it. And then there are Christians telling their before and after stories of becoming born again Tom but you didn’t want to watch them on Utube. Instead you spent your time opposing me with arguments. Tom let’s be fair saith the Lord, you didn’t want me to exist. I threw Paul the apostle off his horse because I knew I could bring him to his senses, but Tom you wouldn’t let me throw you from your horse. It was going to be a waste of time. The Pharisees who paid off the guards to say the disciples stole the body were also a waste of time. And now Tom you have thrown away your life. You are unsuitable to be with those who love and obey me with never ending gratitude. This place called heaven is what I created you for, but Tom, it’s now an anathema to you, therefore you cannot enter in. You have not developed any necessary love for me saith the Lord in order to harmonise in this place called heaven. There is no plan B Tom. There is nowhere else for you to go. Everlasting life in heaven is only suitable to those who have proved their grateful love to me. I begged you to repent via the instrumentality of many people such as your father, and your pen friend Paul who tried so hard to reach you, but Tom you knew best. I cannot let you in. You disqualified yourself. And regrettably you have to be destroyed as though you never existed. There is no plan B. There is no where else for you to go. Ok Tom that’s the end of the story of how it could be with you and the Lord. But remember this Tom and it’s this. I have all my marbles. I’m not a nut job. I can think. And with all due respect to you Tom I can probably out think you. I believe what I believe not just because of blind faith but because of what I know to be true. Hell is a hell of a place to go to. And there was a time when I was heading there too. I didn’t become a born again believer in Jesus Christ to avoid hell. It wasn’t even on my radar. And really it’s the wrong motivation. It’s like all those people who drowned in the great flood. If they could have gotten on the ark when the flood came they would have done it. But they would have eventually returned to their wicked ways. The right motivation is genuine submission to God. A surrender to God. If you become born again like me I can give you bible studies on line. But I’m not holding my breath Tom.
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Gorilla Girl Feminized Seeds (Sweet Seeds)
New Post has been published on http://buycannabisonline.us/gorilla-girl-feminized-seeds-sweet-seeds/
Gorilla Girl Feminized Seeds (Sweet Seeds)
Gorilla Girl Feminized Seeds (Sweet Seeds)
Details
This breed is the resulting hybrid in the cross between two of their most well-known and strong genetics coming in the USA: Gorilla Glue X Girl Scout Cookies.
The GSC specimen used with this particular cross comes in the phenotype called “Thin Mint”. An hybrid vehicle with Sativa predominance.
Gorilla Girl® (SWS74) is a breed with an extremely strong impact, featuring very large THC levels that may reach between 20 percent and 25 percent in optimum growing conditions. Some specimens can exceed these amounts. The resin manufacturing of the breed is copious, covering all of the blossom calyxes with aromatic trichomes. The buds are extremely resinous and streamlined.
Gorilla Girl® includes intense flavor and odor, with cypress tones and a little wood, complemented with hints of citrus and earth.
The plants seem like balanced Indica-Sativa hybrids, really vigorous and productive, with flexible and long side branches.
Added Info
Seedbank Sweet Seeds
Gender Feminized
Variety Mostly Sativa
Strain Genetics Gorilla Glue x Girl Scout Cookies
Flowering Sort Photoperiod
Flowering Time 9 months
Where To Grow Indoor, Greenhouse, Outdoor
Harvest Month late September
Taste / Flavor Citrus, Earthy, Woody
Impact Strong
CBD Content 0.1 percent
THC Content 19-25 percent
Yield Indoor: 400 – 550 g/m2 / Outdoor: 350 – 600 g/plant
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