#(may blind you. consumer discretion is advised.)

[thedragonagelesbian]

i love making varric throw flasks for his da2 build, so now im just thinking about anders trying to teach him how to make healing potions, and he ends up brewing like. fucking battery acid.

[snow-hart-a]

Ruthlessness

This final drabble is very violent, and is the only one told in a third person point of view, because Michael himself is so removed from himself that having it in his P.O.V doesn't fit.

As with the previous, the whole thing will be under a read more.

Reader discretion is advised.

I've gotta make you bleed; I need to see you drown

But before you go I need to make you learn how...

The only thing that Michael could feel was pain...pain, anger, sorrow....grief, and rage that burned so bright that it became a black hole in his heart. The skies darkened as the black hole in his chest expanded, the wind whipping like blades around them as the first snowflakes fell in time with the angel's hate filled tears. A small flurry became a raging blizzard the darkness he was feeling consumed even the light of the sun, causing an eclipse. These many things combined made it as black as the darkest of nights outside.

Hatred and grief can make a monster out of any man, no matter how good...no matter how kind they may be. So it was with Michael as he covered his wings in a layer of sharp black ice and took to the skies to wreak vengeance upon those who had killed his child, who had killed all of these innocent kids...so great was his fury and sorrow that his eyes had frozen and his tears has cut into his cheeks like knives. He rose to the eye of the storm, eyes a pale, deathly glowing blue before he launched a barrage of icy feathers at the exterminating angels who had been fool enough to remain at the scene

An Elk's scream echoed across the blackened sky as the temperature dropped rapidly, making the air on the ground that much harder to breathe. Higher and higher he rose until his wings encircled the eclipsed sun on the updraft.

Ruthlessness is MERCY upon ourselves...

He angled his flight down and dived, cutting through the masses of angels that had stayed, the blood from what remained of their bodies freezing before it ever hit the ground. Despite flying blind, he was still a dangerous foe, and he felt like a stranger in his own mind. He couldn't seem to pull himself back into reality...and the longer he stayed in this mental state, the more would die.

Gabriel was quick to act, his only hope was that Michael did not die from what he needed to do. He grabbed a spear and, from behind, hucked it between the man's wings and out the other side. He dropped like a stone, the blizzard gone in an instant. The messenger angel watched worriedly as his brother was whisked away. Only one thing was clear...

Michael would never be the same again.

[girlrct]

†   ╼     you know what it means  ( to unhome a body )  to collapse a pillar / that may have ,   one day ,   become    a tower .   DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT ! this blog might will contain descriptions of gore , torture , violence , cannibalism , etc . roleplayer discretion is advised . ind   &  sel original character exploring themes of :    stunted youth , lack of identity , having a rotten heart , the wolf in sheep's clothing , being consumed by blind greed , claiming your birthright by all means necessary , power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely ,    weaponized femininity  ,    corruption by wealth  ,     the brutality of girlhood ,     elitism     &     privilege .   written by lenny .

google doc + pinterest + headcanons

traveling with: @mysticrosed >(

blogroll: @demonwebs , @devilgirrrl

bio in progress under cut .

warning ! this blog might contain mentions of: substance abuse ( magic , but i figured i'd warn anyways ) , psychological/physical abuse , murder, parental death , etc . adelaide is an irredeemable , vile little bitch , she's ruthless and self-serving and obsessed with her own goals and self-preservation , she lacks empathy and rarely feels remorse . i will not wash down her portrayal so if this bothers you , it might be unwise to follow .

— BASICS

Name: Adelaide Montserrat Age: 25 - 31 (timeline dependant) / November 13th. Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: CisFemale, She/Her & Bisexual Background: Noble-born Race: Human Class: Sorcerer Positive traits: Determined, controlled, charming, resourceful, perceptive Negative traits: Elusive, self-serving, cruel, sadistic, manipulative

— PHYSICAL

Height: 5'8 Eyes: Steely blue Hair: Blonde Skin: Fair

— STATS

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Current state of mind: Slowly driving herself mad with the idea of aging, paranoid, distrusting, might have a minor magic addiction going on, we don't talk about it

— FAMILY

Lucien M. (Father / Very ill) Georgina M. (Mother / Deceased) George M. (Twin brother / Alive) Allison M . (Sister / Deceased) Children: N/A Cousins & uncles: Too many to keep track

Pets: Ribbon (Persian cat) ✝ Lucy (Snake)

— BIOGRAPHY

Adelaide was stripped of all that should make her, her, growing up. Due to her stifling upbringing, she lacks a sense of self and will likely to her collection of masks in other to offer people what they expect to see. She, herself, is a violent, greedy, unremorseful person who will not hesitate to destroy everything in her path to get what she wants, but she's good at putting on a show and pretending to be a kind, loving person, as this is what was demanded/expected of her growing up.

Her first mask was that if the golden child, and she spent years polishing it, but it never seemed to be enough for her father. Nothing she did ever was. She was a brat, too mean, too greedy, too fragile. Too much, too much, too much! It drove her mad. Her twin brother was the boy he always wanted. The very mirrored reflection of her got everything she ever wanted, and after she sacrificed everything for it. No. She would not allow for that.

She was born into a very prominent and well known noble family, her mother died after the birth of the twins, and her and her siblings were left with only the stern hand of their father to guide them, teach them, mold them. He molded Adelaide's every bone, and she unmade herself to cater to his whims, and for what?! In his own age he grew soft, complacent, and started to loathe the very monster he created. It wasn't fair! He was the one who taught her: power, influence, and wealth will get you everything in this world. And now he spoke of love. Love... what had love ever been good for?

Her powers manifested at the early age of ten, but even though she was an extremely gifted sorcerer, nothing seemed to be enough to satisfy her appetite for magic. She delved into studies, and even then, that wasn't even enough- she eventually started delving into forbidden spells, necromancy, summonings, mind control, whatever made her feel full. Even so, it just wasn't enough.

Despite her teachers praising for being such a natural, so talented, it wasn’t long before nothing could satisfy her anymore, and her ambitions grew too big for her body, and she found herself starting to spiral with the idea of growing old, of not being able to achieve everything she wanted, of losing the only thing that made others susceptible to her whims; and so it began, her endless search to find a cure for this unberable mortality she was born with, a way to strip herself of this human skin who contained her, held her back. She just wanted this ache inside her to soul to stop- but it never did. It never does. She's so hungry, all the time, she doesn't mind sharpening her teeth in the bones of the people she claims to cherish the most. If you love her, you wouldn't really mind, would you? If you love her, you would die for her, wouldn't you?

The more her father would to dote upon her siblings, the more Adelaide began to view them less and less as her own flesh, and rather, rivals. Competition.

One day, as she went out to ride horses with her sister- only she returned. Most assumed it was a tragedy. She thought maybe it would be enough, alas, it only served to ensure her father began to dote on her brother far more than he ever did. She knew then, if she wanted to inherit the throne, there were two pieces that needed to be removed from the board.

With time, it seemed, her father began to grow ill, and nobody could find the source of the problem. And nobody would, because if there was one thing she was exceptional at, was covering up her tracks. Her brother began to grow suspicious of her comings and goings, and demand the food and the drinks to be tasted.

— BG3

Tadpoled!Companion: During the events that take place in game , there was an assassination attempt made on her brother's life that failed due to the crash of the Nautiloid , the commotion was such , that Addie was abducted during the turmoil , and woke up inside the alien pod. You can find her next to the beach, unconscious.

Non-tadpoled!Companion: You can meet/recruit her as a companion after arriving at Baldur's Gate, she had been researching the tremors, and once you fill her in, she promises to aid you in your quest re: Gortash and offer the party her place to stay in, free of charge. She will probably backstab you, but she looks super trustworthy guys!

[janshu]

In The Shallows...Part One.

Summary: @hanji-is-life more merman!Bakugo and so I shall provide! I was hoping to get this out much earlier, back in may because MerMay but better late than never I suppose! You, a marine biologist, take a scuba dive to see the local fauna off coast and you find more than you ever could've bargained for...

Word Count: 1.5.

Warnings: None but minor curses, mentions of the ocean, an illusion of drowning. Viewer discretion is advised at least.

How did you manage this?

You hadn't walked on the beach, much less roll around in the coarse substance. So how did it manage to get into your pockets? This was a new jacket so how?

A short walk from the parking garage to the pier was all it was, no beach travel involved yet it had wormed its way into your pockets, in between your toes and nearly everywhere else. 

Your team chuckles at your discomfort finding your squirming the funniest thing on the planet as they loaded up the sizable vessel for the day on the water. For the past several weeks you had been cooped up in a lab studying the samples others brought to you but now you were given the green light to head out into the field yourself. Your goal for the day was to gather samples, check on the status of the coral nursery, and a checklist of other menial tasks. A full plate all things considered, much better than getting a migraine staring through a microscope at sea water until you either give up or get sent home. 

Waves battered against the hull of the boat while you and your fellow colleagues suit up in scuba gear. The goal wasn't to go to the bottom of the ocean, far from it, fifteen meters was the maximum for today so simple snorkeling hear wouldn't cut it. You didn't get your diving certifications to be stuck in a lab. The salt spray refreshing against your skin for the few seconds it was vulnerable while you changed from your outfit into the designated wetsuit. Not the full suit that covered your body from head-to-toe, just a body one to keep your core warm when your swimsuit didn't offer much protection.

The boat came to a stop right around where the GPS locator dinged where the nursery site was and the captain gave everyone a thumbs up as you and your fellows attached their fins, tanks, SPG's and all the other necessary equipment. One-by-one each of them held their regulators to their mouths and fell back into the blue ocean below until it was your own, to which you received a wink instead while everything turned upside down.

Ten, twenty, thirty, a hundred. Regardless of how many dives you've had you'll never get over the beauty of the reefs. Each time serving something new, change was ever present in your line of work. Never seeing the same specimens twice to witnessing a rare species and everything in between. The sunshine overhead casting glittering ripples on the sandy floor, catching your eye on the schools of fish that swam by as their scales gleamed in different patterns. This was the closest feeling you had ever come to your childhood dream of becoming a mermaid. When you wished on your birthday candles and shooting stars to holding your breath underneath tub water in hopes gills would magically appear. That's what started this career. Maybe it was a long forgotten portion of your evolved brain from life's time in the ocean but you felt at home, a familiar sense of belonging that you didn't have on dry land. This was where you were meant to be but sadly your wishes had never come true and you were cursed to remain a land-dwelling mammal.

The beeping in your ears ripped you from your fantastical daydreams to remind you of the harsh reality. This is as close as you were going to get but that wasn't so bad, it was better having a little than nothing at all. Looking at the gauge meter it showed that you have roughly an hour left of oxygen which meant you had been in the water for an hour already. How time flies when you're having fun, absorbed in your daydreams, and checking on coral and taking samples.

"Hey, could we switch our tanks out without getting oxygen narcosis or are we screwed in that department?" Your voice came over the radio built in the full face masks everyone in the diving team used no doubt scaring those who were lost in thought as you just were. 

"Y/N...do you really want to stay out here longer? Shitting Christ, you should be glad you're out here in the first place!" The captain's voice responded from the safety of the boat. "Now get your asses back up here n' we'll head on ba-...what was that?"

"What was what?" 

A chorus of responses chimed in immediately after, some crackling from the distance they were from the source and others sounding as if they were a foot away.

"Nothing, never mind, must've been a Manta Ray. Forget about it. Just get your shit and come back, I'm gettin' hungry and its close to lunchtime so hurry up." The static cut off as he put down the radio and looked out into the churning ocean. The massive shadow he had just seen passing by the boat putting him on alert, he didn't want to witness any reef shark's feeding frenzy.

"We can come back tomorrow, Y/N. Nothing's stopping us from that, right?" Another voice, one of your favorite colleagues suggested. That was right, you were there and your boss hadn't explicitly said that this was a one time thing. Another visit would do some good to see if the biometrics have changed in a span of twenty-four hours.

"Alright, okay, we'll come back later for a differential test."

The group had a collective sigh of relief. You were notorious for loving the ocean to such a degree you'd do anything to stay in a while longer, they were all content with leaving now and coming back later if it meant they wouldn't see your sad pouting all the way back to the van. Picking up their equipment and vials everyone began swimming back to the boat now most of them making small talk and discussing their plans for the weekend while you were once again lost in your thoughts.

Something impossibly dark darted through your vision. Blocking out the beautiful view of the turquoise water and colorful life like an angry, ominous storm cloud. A blanket of blindness shrouding all light for a moment but it felt like an eternity as dread sunk in the pit of your stomach, anchoring you to the spot. The warm water now felt cold, goosebumps running up your bare arms and thighs like pinpricks. The heart that had been so calm in the home of your ribcage now pushing adrenaline through your bloodstream, adjusting to a state you weren't acting on. Fear. That wasn't a Manta Ray or a comically large Stingray that was something else entirely. A predator that crashed against the fragile cage of safety, security and believing you were untouchable in shallow depths.

You were reminded of the psychologically scarring and irrational fear of one's ankles being grabbed particularly in the ocean by a shark, the part of your lizard brain firing signals all across your synapses to detach the leg. If only. A fair trade, being left alone at the price of a limb but unfortunately humans couldn't detach or regrow whatever they lost.

That fear was horrifically evoked when something far more firm than a limp leaf of seaweed wrapped around your ankle. Slimey, cold as death and tipped with five sharp points. Reminiscent of a hand, a very large hand. Expanding across your bare skin like a calloused cuff that threatened to break the skin, sink into the meat and tear your foot off entirely. However, that didn't seem to be happening. No cloud of your own blood instead the safety of the boat got further and further away, turning into a speck barely seen in the shallow water.

"Wait, wait no! What the fuck?! Let go! What the hell?" When your brain managed to get over its fear and shock of the situation your fight-or-flight instincts kicked into high gear and your body began to thrash around against the hold. If it was a shark hitting it in the snout and eyes was imperative to get it to release but what if it wasn't? What else could possibly have your leg in its grip with a goal of pulling you away from the boat?

A flurry of indistinguishable voices and noises came over the radio. From yelps, screams and to curses but the thudding in your ears and the furious splashes drowned them all out, everything became topsy turvy, what was the bottom of the ocean and what was the surface became an abstract concept. The primal urge to escape was ripped away when the respirator giving you oxygen was unceremoniously and harshly ripped from your mouth, the hand that had done it orange and black. The water was salty, like you had dumped an entire container of table salt into your mouth and you washed it down with a sip of water. It was invasive, slipping down your throat into your lungs as they tried to gulp air instead. The more you inhaled the harder it was to move. Your limbs becoming as heavy as cement bricks. Unconsciousness began to consume everything, your body down to your mind. The eerie sensation of falling was the last thing before everything faded to black...

[cupsofsuga]

Henlo! Could you do a yandere bts reaction where their crush/love interest think theyre dating or in love with someone else so they back off and end up falling for another person?

OCTOBER DAYS  ━ YANDERE BTS REACTION*:･。.

WARNING - This is a yandere au, meaning the following may be triggering to some viewers.  I am not trying to discriminate the boys in any way, this is for entertainment purposes. Viewer discretion is advised!!!

Thank you for requesting, sweetheart!

P.S this reaction was entirely inspired by my nostalgia for October 😬

KIM SEOKJIN

━━━ The chilling, October wind dances with Jin as he tracks through the empty woods. Dead leaves and twigs crunch under his boots as he hurries to the overlook to meet you there. He must hurry, he must hurry. Jin cannot waste a single, living, breathing second before declaring his eternal love for you. His clothes are painted with crimson blood. Not his, but rather the boy who claimed to be your lover. Jin’s got a stern facade, the blood adding onto everything intimidating about it, but you must look in his eyes. He’s got love in his eyes. Soft, sweet, equivalent to the doe-eyed fawn’s you see in the awakening of spring. Entirely pure.

You sit at the edge, looking over the town in all your glory. You radiate a tranquil aura; so calm but yet, so blissfully excellent, in a certain matter. Jin can’t help but marvel at the way you sit so calmly in the milky way of your own galaxy. You hear the flutter of footsteps behind you, quickly turning only to meet with horror. Like petals falling gracefully of a flower, only to turn to ash once they meet the surface. There’s heartbreaking beauty in your expression, but Jin mustn’t stay silent now. He must scream from the rooftops of his infatuation for you, his everything, his childhood best friend, his one and only lover.

“You have my heart, Y/N. You always have… But you’ve given yours to some filthy heathen who surely does not deserve a single second in your presence… Y/N, please. Please let me spend every waking moment in your presence, please let me show you how strong and dominant but soft and sensitive my devotion for you is… Please love me the way I love you so…”

MIN YOONGI

━━━ This new school year was supposed to begin differently; perfectly. Yoongi would gain confidence and finally, find the privilege to be held in your arms, but fate had other plans for him and left him beaten bloody in the parking lot, cold, October wind against his exposed skin. Memories now begin to prance and frolic in his head. His mind is filled to the brim of screaming turned to white noise and the sight of distorted rage and blood. Yoongi, in a state of blurred fury, attacked your supposed “lover” thinking he could possibly defeat him with his tiny figure.

But, what’s this?

As he awakes to the beeping of a monitor and blinding lights, he can smell the sickeningly sweet stench of honeysuckle, the musk immediately calming him from his rage-filled mind. Like early June air, he inhales the scent and exhales fluttering heartbeats and rosy cheeks. The lights, which were once as blinding as the sun, simmer down and he can see a figure sitting before him. And once Yoongi regains complete consciousness, he can finally make out the person before him. It’s you. His midnight muse, his golden sun, his lovelorn daydream, his Y/N. You gently brush his hair with the tips of your fingers, lulling him into an empty trance with your touch and delicate reassurance, and Yoongi forgets what it means to breathe.

“Y/N… Y/N… I-I’m sorry. I-I-… I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you… I-I love you- I love you so much!!”

JUNG HOSEOK

━━━ All Hoseok ever truly desired was to feel your seraphic touch in the dead of nightfall and to taste the sweet, sweet nectarine of your kiss. He desires to inhale your scent of honey and lavender and to watch as your beaming smile challenges the light of a million stars. All Hoseok truly ever desired was you. But this demon has taken your soul and kept it locked in a cage for his amusement. Hoseok watches and questions, what is this feeling? It’s like pomegranate seeds stuck in his teeth! Red like the petal of a rose but sharp as its thorns. It’s like a rot has formed in the pit of his stomach, slowly spreading over time and killing him with ease. For the first time in such a long time, Hoseok feels pain.

Step after step, Hoseok must run. Run, run, run until these sins he has committed can melt. Moonlight brightens up the empty road before him and the chirping of the crickets turn to white noise. Everything turns so hazy in the light glimmer of the October fog; everything turns fluorescent in this velvet night. Reliving the moment, he can see the eyes of your lover lose their light as they consume the antifreeze that was hidden in the pie that Hoseok baked out of “the goodness of his heart.” He remembers the way they seized and the guttural sounds of their choking and cringes at the inhuman thought. Hoseok giggled manically during the process but now feels reality settle deep within his aching chest. Sweat forms on his forehead, his knees grow weak, his breathing becomes increasingly rapid as he questions over and over again, what have I done?

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!!! I need my Y/N!! God, I feel like I’m dying!! Where did you go…!!? Please don’t leave… I’m sorry for what I did, please!!!”

KIM NAMJOON

━━━ There’s a garden that rests in Namjoon’s heart. All fluttering birds and butterflies and the swaying of trees and flower petals in the wind. Fluffy grass and fluorescent sunbeams, entirely a place of magic within his chest. There are fruit and vegetables littered around, dusted with the dirt and there are fairies that linger and sing all around the isolated area. Even though you’re late into October, summer lasts for eternity in this haven. This seraphic haven may be a fairytale of some sort or even just a metaphor for the sweet shock you bring to his heartbeat, but this eternal garden is what keeps him alive. 

But now, someone is trying to take this paradise away from him.

He must seek revenge for the hellion that robbed him of his happiness, no matter the circumstances! But Namjoon can’t seem to pull you two apart. He could drown you out in 15,000 love potions and the elixir still wouldn’t drive your attention away from that heathen! Resent cradles his heart and he can feel the garden inside him. Namjoon is so utterly desperate to bring an end to this torment! Finally picking himself up from the dirt, he regains his logic and musters up the perfect plan. He kills an innocent. A girl that lived in the same apartment complex as your lover, then planting their DNA all across the crime scene and the girl’s limbs. Namjoon then watches in amusement as he’s pulled from your arms in handcuffs, giggling once hearing his distressed screams. The fairies sing, the wind tousles with the grown leaves and these gray clouds have finally departed. His garden is finally healthy. He can finally be yours.

“Oh, Y/N… I can’t wait to feel your arms around me. But, I must wait. I can’t be greedy… This plan must work out before you can finally call me yours~…”

PARK JIMIN

━━━ How could you neglect an angel crafted from the purity of the clouds? Deny someone with a heart made of glass but an infatuation made from stone? You interlock your hands with your newfound lover in the October wind and turn oblivious to the teary eyes burning wounds into the boy. Jimin is livid, shaking with such a resentful force in his stance with a tear running down his pink cheek, seen so profoundly stuck in this cold embrace of anger that even the strangers who pass by seem to shutter into submission under his facade. They don’t matter, though, only you do.

Jimin is so genuinely infatuated with you. So, so terribly in love with you that he’d let you shred his fragile heart to bits and pieces, then pick them up and put the fragments directly back into your palm. He shows up at your window, practically banging with such force that could shatter it. You answer, worry vivid in your expression as you open the window, letting the October air and broken boy sink into the room. Jimin now lies on your bedroom floor, remnants of a broken heart in his chest and desperate begs ghosting his lips with permanent broken sobs.

“W-W-Why him, Y/N? Why did you choose him? Was I-I not good enough or-..? I-I think of suicide when you touch him like that; when you touch him the way you should be touching me… It hurts, Y/N, it hurts! Just, please… Please make it stop…! Please hold me and make it all stop…!”

KIM TAEHYUNG

━━━ Every fleeting moment spent in your presence is entirely ethereal. Those brief seconds of eye contact and those several times you bumped shoulders, mumbling an apology to the teen bring warmth to his soul. Taehyung clenches those memories in his fist, inhaling the scent, wishing it was your musk that smells of petals and early June wind instead. Taehyung sighs heavenly inhaling the fragrance of a sweater of yours, then casting his eyes to the assortment of polaroids of your face that holds the elegance of shooting stars and diamonds. And as much euphoria this brings to Taehyung, there’s that small, bitter piece inside him that craves more.

He needs to be held by you, to feel to rose petals that make up of your skin. He needs to feel your attention, to feel the sunbeams kiss against his skin whilst your eyes made up entirely of stardust gaze into his. But, he can’t. 

Some other boy; a boy much better than him has been granted the holy privilege of being called yours. So now, Taehyung sits under the golden light on his desk, the musk of nightfall brushing against his skin, writing in red ink with tears falling down his cheeks. He resorts to writing anonymous letters, pouring his soul into each word but so desperately craves to cut open his chest, pull out his heart and place it in your delicate palms. But his insecurities overpower him, and he cannot act on anything besides writing and breathing in your sweater, trying so desperately to calm him of his raging emotions while tears drench the paper in front of him.

“My dear Y/N, Was I not enough? The thought of seeing you touch him once more haunts every breath I take and it brings me to tears every time. My heart has been torn, my skin’s been flawed with scars and I’m choking on blood. This lovelorn relationship you and I have is exhausting, but I will fight through. For you, I must fight through.

Sincerely, Your One and Only Lover, Taehyung.”

JEON JUNGKOOK

━━━ The trees dance, the wind whistles and the moon shines. The evening twilight was just like any other night, soft, peaceful, glorious, but there’s a sudden shift in the October air. This shift is so horrifying that the wolves thirsty for blood scurry away. You see, Jungkook has met with the cracking conclusion that he truly never mattered to you, seeing as you benefit from that parasite that’s constantly giving you affection. Jungkook thrashes, screams and chucks items of all sorts around his room, shouting profanities and such with tears flowing down his cheeks. All Jungkook ever truly desired was to feel your touch of July as he sinks into a deep slumber, or to feel your lips pressed against his cheek during the pearly sunrise on an early spring morning.

He so desperately craves to spill every feeling buried deep within him, but he can’t.

Jungkook always held his head high and had faith in every tomorrow for you to be his, but he’s been stained by heartbreak. He has opened his heart for you like a ruby rose but you’ve crumbled the petals to ashes. He’s given you a light and screams for you to follow, yet you follow the fog of darkness when it whispers in your ear. Yet, you still let that cretin drape upon you, letting him cover your golden aura with his own. And as Jungkook sits on the edge of his bed, head in hands with cracked sobs echoing in the room, he has a sudden revelation. He has been wounded, bleeding right from his shattered heart, and the only anecdote for this eternal hell within his own mind was to pay with blood. Jungkook needs that man’s blood and he needs it now!

“You filthy, disgusting heathen! How dare you touch them with those dirty hands of yours…!? The way y-you just love them with ease fills me with jealousy and it gets so hard to breathe and I-I just- I can’t fucking take it anymore…! I need you dead so these thoughts can finally just leave me alone…”

[bxttenbound-archive]

Character theorizing and speculating time!

Be warned, discussion of dark themes ahead that include but are not limited to: Major Self harm, Depictions of self harm, suicide, death, mental illness, mild nudity, and hallucinations. Reader discretion is advised.

So despite this fandom (Vampair Series) being really small in that there aren’t really dedicated people / blog or what that I see (though i could be wrong and just blind) of what I do see, most people neglect a lot of what is in Episode Four: The Silent.

Episode 4 focuses on Missi and what has happened to her after resurrecting Duke and being under the influence of the Cane’s magic.

We start on a wide shot that is Missi’s surroundings and immediately we see that the world isn’t as colorful or at least, lively as it normally is.

The walls and floors are completely black with light coming from the windows (most likely moonlight) and everything being in only black or white, with few greys to be seen. The only thing we see that has color during this is Missi herself. To me this indicates this is from Missi’s perspective, she is often looking at the camera during this video as if she knows she’s being watched. This is her perspective on the world through the lens of the Cane’s corruption.

One thing I would love to point out is there are multiple instances where Missi’s human form will actually appear. Once in her shadow

And a second time in the Mirror

The mirror showing the reflection of her human-self but not the vampire self she had become. This appears to indicate that she is still human under the magic that turned her into a vampire or whatever weird middle-ground she is in currently.

Continuing with the video we see she does appear to Hallucinate figures, monsters / demons that the song indicates that constantly are trying to, in a way, kill her. Whether it be by Eating / swallowing her whole 

To dropping a chandelier on her

Now, we aren’t quite sure what the creatures are but I have good reason to believe the creatures are manifestations of the Cane’s influence. They are in a sense having a physical battle with Missi’s Mental State, wearing her down enough to allow the Cane’s corruption to completely over take her. We aren’t given information as to how the Cane’s corruption works, but I speculate it is just magic that tries to force itself into the wielder’s body and unless they are attuned to it, accept it’s influence, or are powerful enough on their own they are consumed by it.

Nevertheless, While the dangers these creatures do cause it is shown that not every danger manifests physically. The attempt at dropping the chandelier on Missi fails, but we cut to a shot after that shows it never actually fell despite the previous scene showing it had.

Now why do I believe it’s the can’e corruption doing this to Missi? Well we quite obviously see that it is as When she later Throws the cane away after a particular scene I want to talk about later, the world becomes what it normally is, what it is supposed to be.

without it’s influence she doesn’t see any monsters, she doesn’t see her world in black and white. She isn’t seeing the world through the lens of the Cane’s influence anymore. She rejected it and tossing the cane away negated it’s ability to try and force it’s influence onto her.

Now, I want to take a second to talk about this scene.

Where Missi is consumed by the creatures that had been stalking / trying to get to her the entire night. This is, quite literally the influence / corruption trying to take full control over her and Missi, still being mortal, trying to fight it off and reject it.

We see that it starts to Physically enter her body and travel from the palm of her hands up her arms and into the rest of her body. I’m sure this process isn’t fun at all and I would guess it feels like those monsters are crawling around, under her skin especially with what comes next. She ends up, for lack of a better phrase, going mad. Looking disturbed, angry, uncomfortable with what has entered her body.

Eventually when it does get into her head it becomes too much for Missi and she does something...........drastic.

I think this is a really important part of the video, but again it’s never actually addressed. Missi tried to tear her arms open, and possibly kill herself to get whatever entered her body, out.

She claws at her arms and it is shown that blood comes out and that she was successful, or partly in dying. I think the showing of this Frame shows that Missi actually should have died due to this

While, yes, wings don’t always mean angels and death, I think due to the circumstances it shows that Missi should have died here, but after becoming more monstrous and it cutting to the shot of the Cane’s eyes glowing red, the Corruption and influence over Missi it has, it grounds her soul or whatever prat of her is there, to the mortal world

Which is why she looks so, frustrated, angry, and torn apart near the end of this scene

It’s painful for her, it’s quite literally tearing her soul apart at the seems and in all this pain she throws the cane away, she dispels it’s only way of influencing her and causing her to feel this way. The reason she looks down at her hands after becoming human again is because she’s shocked, she’s shaking because of what she just endured. Holding onto the arm she had torn into earlier.

Another big part of the scene I need to point out, is that during the time Missi is going through this, her Skin is completely White. While it may be more of an artistic choice we see her skin is completely white and the background has that weird, white static behind it.

When we see Later that Missi goes back to the cane and accepts it’s influence and allowing it to take control of her as a means to use it’s power to get revenge on whom she hates and severely hurt her (Duke) we go through the steps of what happened to her only sped up.

The world becomes black and white until dissolving into thta weird static-area

Only this time, she isn’t just black and white, she isn’t even how she looked before

She’s the same until she uses the Cane’s power and becomes similar to the monsters that had hunted her down at the beginning.

A black silhouette of what she used to be. Allowing the Cane’s power and influence to take control and give her it’s full power without fighting against it.

I just thought I’d share some stuff about Missi I really don’t get to go into in RPs here, so I hope you liked this little...analysis, or whatever you wanna call it.

Also on this blog, this is where Missi would fully become a Vampire, she accepted the Cane’s corruption and turned her completely undead

[clansayeed]

Bound by Choice ― I.iii. Divine Intervention

PAIRING: OC x OC x OC (Valdas x Isseya x Cynbel) RATING: Mature (reader discretion advised)

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Choice ⥽

Before there were Clans and Councils, before the fate of the world rested in certain hands, before the rise and fall of a Shadow King ― there was the Trinity. Three souls intertwined in the early hands of the universe who came to define the concept of eternity together. Because that was how they began and how they hoped to end; together. For over 2,000 years Valdas, Cynbel, and Isseya have walked through histories both mortal and supernatural. But in the early years of the 20th century something happened―something terrible. Their story has a beginning, and this is the end.

Bound by Choice and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Choice is the only book in the series not based on an existing Choices story. It is set in the Bloodbound universe and features many canon characters.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Choice/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Cynbel saves a seer.

[READ IT ON AO3]

By the time he arrives back to the estate Cynbel’s anger has given way to fright; one thought consuming him above all others.

They need to leave Rome. They should already be far, far from here. Far from Caesar and his notions of immortality.

“Valdas! Isseya!”

“Cynbel?”

Her voice draws him to her, standing just outside the doors of their shared chambers with the red of a fresh meal still dripping down her chin.

He sweeps Isseya up in his arms and kisses her fiercely. Half to remind himself that she is there, she is safe. Half because what else can he do, he’s powerless, has never been powerless, cannot fathom it without her, without them.

The lust is dashed from her eyes the moment she takes him in fully. “What is it? Cynbel, what has you so?”

“Where is Valdas?”

“I asked you —”

“Where is he?!”

She tears his grasp from her arms and forces him back — enough to return him to sanity if only for a moment. She’s never abided him like this and would not start now. And isn’t he fucking thankful for it.

“Bring yourself back to sense and I may feel inclined to answer,” his darling snaps through vicious teeth. Only when he sags against the now cracked wall with his hands spread out — vulnerable, they are all too vulnerable — does she make good on her words. Holds his upper arms in a deceptively strong grasp and skirts her nose along his jaw to bring a comfort only she can. In a way only she knows.

“You’re frightening me,” she admits, he can hear the waver in her voice even now, “I haven’t seen you like this in so long, so very very long.”

He can’t even remember the last time this mania consumed him. But she’s good at bringing up old wounds, at cutting in the same place time and time again.

“Iss’…” Cynbel loses the last of his fight, his body yields. But it isn’t enough to ease his mind. Nothing but the death of Caesar will do that.

“Was it the Godmaker’s whelp that made you so?”

“No.”

“Swear it. I know you’ve taken to her.”

He knocks their temples together. Bestial headbutting; primal acknowledgment that she’s talking utter fucking nonsense. “Do not insult me so.”

“Not taken her,” though her fondness comes through, “I would make you a eunuch if you even so much as entertained the thought. But she knows something you keep hidden from us. Call me a liar.”

He can’t, so he doesn’t.

Which is all the answer she needs. “I thought as such,” and moves to pull away from him but no, no not now. Now cannot be one of the times for her tantrums because there is so much at risk and they need to find their beloved and leave.

“Believe me now, my love, and I will never give you reason to do otherwise again. For as long as we live. I swear it to you.”

It’s an openness from him that Isseya is unfamiliar with. Enough so that the gravity of his behavior finally seems to come over her. A veil somehow lifted.

“Where. is. Valdas?”

Her eyes flicker towards the depths of the villa yet the relief he hopes for does not yet come. Because his gut knows what else lies within, perhaps.

“Rome is no longer safe for us. We need to leave.”

“What madness is this?

“Our Beloved plans to join the conspirators but they have already failed.”

“What are you rambling about?”

Before he can answer the sounds of the ostium opening catch the lovers’ ears. With them, a wrath he had hoped was lost among the winding pathways of the city.

Instinct has Isseya in his grasp, holding her close as Kamilah darkens the doorway. Eyes glowing red the moment they land upon him and fangs bared.

“I’ll kill you!”

She rushes forward but to them her speed is childish; fumbling. Easily dispatched with a wave of Isseya’s arm as she steps in front of Cynbel with a mirthless laugh.

“The day such is possible, whelp, will never come. Accept that and you may live to see tomorrow at the very least.”

But the defiant Kamilah stands, wipes away the powder of crumbled marble from her cheek and of everything to go afoul this night Cynbel finds this to be the strangest of them.

“I did not force you to leave at my side. Turn your anger inward.”

“You imbecile!”

“I’ll have your fucking tongue!”

“Isseya! Still yourself,” he looks between them and forces himself calm through sheer will; remembers now why they chose to live away from what few others of their kind roamed the hills in the wilderness — passionate creatures were the children of the night.

Kamilah speaks again through ragged breaths; physically healed but in her eyes churned a storm unchained.

“You named me Sayeed, you wretched thing! Did you think I would truly go to the Pharaoh and give her my true name even now when it was the Pharaoh herself who gave my brother word of my demise? That we may be revealed is on your head, brute.”

Beside him, Isseya swears under her breath. “Tell me you didn’t, beloved. Tell me you are not so craven for war so soon.”

“What I am craven for is survival.” He manages through gritted teeth.

“Is that in doubt?”

“It may very well be.”

Even with all of their years now, of all hours, time is not theirs to waste. Clutching for her again, Cynbel presses an open mouth to Isseya’s temple, pulls her with him away before it is too late.

“Cynbel? Isseya? What happened?”

Their god is upon them the moment they enter the exedra with Kamilah unwillingly in tow. From his bench the Godmaker makes no attempt to hide his distaste; curls his lip upwards in a silent snarl.

There is peace in seeing Valdas unharmed — in feeling his face held in the same hands that made him. Even temporary, it is enough. Straw-like strands stick to his brow as his Maker does everything in his silent power to bring about a calm.

But this is no mere fit of madness. It burns Cynbel from the inside out, makes him see the hollow clarity of the Godmaker’s eyes over his lover’s shoulder and want to act as sword and shield.

“Ease yourself, my Golden One,” his grip as rough as needed, words thick with a worry he refuses to let show in his eyes; always the stronger of them, always burdened so they may not be, “surely the theatrics have no place here.”

“Are you safe? Are you unharmed?”

Because he knows better, knows his lovers, Valdas steps back and gestures wide; allows them both to see him in all of his perfection and glory. Untouched, unblemished — for the moment.

“Of course I am.” And because, too, he has seen these fits of mania before, Valdas seeks answer from Isseya foremost. “Why would I be otherwise?”

Her venom spits at the dirt before the Godmaker’s feet.

“Ask him.”

Only the guilty who carry shame play in innocence. Gaius stands and holds out a hand; an offering. But the intended does not take it. Kamilah stands still with furrowed brow. An act minuscule in its defiance; but with purpose served.

“Kamilah, my Queen…”

“They know, Gaius.”

Slowly the hand falls back to his side. His fist clenches briefly, knuckles pop-popping in an echo around the curved room, then gone as if nothing had changed, as if nothing were the matter.

“I see,” with all the temperance of discussing the cloudy night, “and how did this come to light?”

Valdas senses the shift in tension, warily steps between his lovers and his Maker; “Have you care to enlighten those of us blind?”

Apparently he does not. Waits for Kamilah to answer him — she may reject his hand but he is still her King, her Maker, and he will not be denied.

“The victory at hand, it seems, has loosened Caesar’s tongue.”

“Brilliant tactician though he may be, that will need to be trained out of him.” The tsk tsk tsk of the Godmaker’s tongue, such a simple and universal act, sends throughout Cynbel an unease that coats him bodily; makes him feel unclean, despoiled.

“Caesar?” parrots the Made-God in confusion; rising suspicion, “what does Caesar have to do with this?”

Then, because the pieces aren’t fitting together in quite the right way, he rounds on Cynbel. “Why were you taking audience with Caesar?”

“I would quite like to know that myself.”

Even with the full weight of the Godmaker’s stare upon him, Cynbel refuses to give him the satisfaction. A silence not for her sake but that keeps Kamilah’s secret, too.

“Have you gone dumb, boy? Your precious deity has asked you a question!”

The same curl of the tongue as the night before; disgust not quite contained — not deserving of it in his mind. Though to think of what lurks in the Godmaker’s mind is a punishment he would kindly never suffer.

“Caesar knows what creatures wander Rome come nightfall. He knows of us… speaks as if to stand among us, beside us as an equal.”

Brow creased, Valdas shakes his head. “Impossible.”

“Would I lie to my beloved? He gazed upon me a mortal with knowledge beyond his means. Said not in words but intent; to become Dictator Inmortalis with the blood of our kind running the rivers of his veins.”

Would I lie to my beloved? Words overcast that hang in the depths of his lover’s eyes and the pain of them may be too much for Cynbel alone to bear.

And like she shares a home in his mind — and she very well may — Isseya reaffirms her presence beside him. Complete and utter faith; belief in him… in them.

He is never alone.

An understanding comes over Valdas, then. Across his face a hardness; something that does not suffer fools nor being made the fool. That finds him facing his Maker not as the cowed progeny of before but, perhaps, the firstborn who had created the distance between them so many centuries ago.

“Should Caesar find himself among our kind, no blade would fell him. None that mattered; none used by the likes of the conspirators of the Senate.” None used by the likes of me.

The accusation is clear, yet Gaius remains unperturbed.

“Such is the consequence of those who stand in the way of power.”

“What power does he not already covet?”

“How small-minded you’ve become, Valdemaras; fixated on your narrow existence. On these children of yours. Are you truly blinded to the potential laid out before us?”

“Us?”

“Our kind!” cries the Godmaker with a voice that might wake the heavens; “The future I created you for, the one we sought together! The very reason you continue to walk this earth no matter your defiance of me.”

“The world we stand in now is a vastly different one than when I last drew mortal breath, Augustine. The Empire of my birth is no more. Surely Rome, no matter her glory now, will see the same fate.”

“Not as my plans come to fruition.”

“Plans to—to what, to extend the power of Rome through the immortal hand of Julius Caesar?” He scoffs. “We both know him a madman lurking beneath a countryman’s smile. If you still begrudge me my betrayal of you, I would claim that nothing compared to what he might do when you pull on his strings.”

Haughty, defiant; Gaius gestures wide in a grin that bares all of his teeth. “You were the mistake from which I learned the greatest lesson. Caesar will be Turned and brought to heel. And when that is done, the great work of rebuilding the Kingdom She Promised will finally begin.

“You are right, my soldier. Your Empire fell; it began long before I walked your lands and despite my best efforts could not be saved. But with Caesar at my hand, how much of Rome will follow? How much of Egypt once the Pharaoh stands beside us?”

He stands proud, basks in his own glory and might. Looks to find the adoration of his Queen but finds only confusion; a dawning understanding.

“You mean to Turn Cleopatra.”

“I mean to see my promises kept. If that means bringing the rulers of even the smallest kingdoms under my thumb then so be it.” This time Kamilah takes his offered hand. Joins her King as the Queen by his side.

Why should he find himself surprised by it?

“Enough of this.” Gaius continues with a flippant wave of his free hand, “I’ve entertained your pilgrimage for long enough, Valdemaras. Tomorrow will come and your childish plotting will come to a head. When Caesar rises from the bloody hands of his conspirators he will be revered and given absolute power over Rome, the Senate, all of it.

“Where will you stand witness? At my side, or under my rule?”

The answer is an easy one for the likes of Isseya, the likes of Cynbel. Who look at one another with grave unease. All of the events circling around them overhead as vultures do the dying wanderer.

Their love and Light said so himself. To refuse him would be to lose you.

Do not ask it of me. I beg of you.

And what had they answered? Perhaps the only thing they could to ease his aching heart, to bring their god back to his former self because they could not bear the sight of him so broken, wounded… so mortal.

We will not. We will not.

They grasp at one another desperately. For him, too, but not quick enough. Valdas steps out of their reach and they want to scream for him, go back on their shared word. Anything to spare them this. To spare him.

“Valdas, please —”

“Do not do this —”

But words spoken in vain mean little now. Only serve to call them liars, to call them unfaithful in the eyes of their god.

But is it a god who falls on bended knee, takes his Maker’s touch in clasped hands and kisses the ring there? It certainly does not look so. It looks like a man losing his world in one simple act.

Or, perhaps, saving it.

The Godmaker’s pride is as venomous as it is stifling. Brings his chin raised high as he takes in the sight of Valdemaras’ beloveds. The things that he would do anything for — that much has been proven enough.

“And your progeny?” Who are not worth the address.

Who bite their tongues until they bleed, who swallow blood and bile and tears down because he has done the same for them, how could they do anything less than follow him even into this?

Their silence is their submission. Down the line, with an ego fat with supped blood and power taken from all corners of the world, he may demand of them a formal oath. And down the line, starved of one another, they may be too weak to do anything but swear it.

For now he takes his Queen and departs. Leaves Valdas low, sinking lower still.

Of one mind and two bodies, Cynbel and Isseya rush to his side, envelop him in them. Show him proof with trembling touch that his act was not in vain and they live. They live.

Fuck pleasantries. He wrenches the feeble door from its feeble hinges and sends it hurtling across the alley. It smashes against the stone front of the domus across like rotted driftwood.

There’s a hint of his true nature in his darkening of their doorway. Filling the space with broad stature and the hunt in his inhuman eyes. Staring up at eight terrified faces huddled around their meager meal.

Every visit before this he has been almost sickening in his placation of them, the mortal curs. No longer.

“The girl.”

Too weak to take part in the bonds of family. Trembling in her bed not out of fear of him but fear of herself and what she has seen, what she may see still. Cynbel scoops her up in his arms and feels nothing when she seeks a warmth in him that does not exist.

“Domine…” and were he capable of kinder words he may tell her to save her strength, for her sake—for his, but as it is every thought must be held back on the tip of his tongue lest he start screaming and never, never stop.

“This night will not be your last, not while I have use of you yet.” By any means necessary he will keep her alive.

Bringing Nona back to the villa is impossible. Were the Godmaker to come into possession of her, what little hope the lovers had left would be dashed. But to leave her under the same roof visited by his Queen was to leave her equally vulnerable.

Surrounded on all sides, there was only one place he could think of which would grant the girl sanctuary in her final days.

On the steps of the Temple, basins of flame barely aglow at the midnight hour, the priestess barely looks the pair of them over before turning them away. But all it takes is a foot to step with, to stop the stone door with a strength no human could muster.

He may only have his One God but the Romans had many, with many names and many faces among them. But what were the gods of mortals but powers beyond their understanding?

“Turn her away and you turn away the eyes of your Minerva herself.”

The pale woman bundles her palla up closer as if to best the wind that whistles through the open doorway. But her caution is her undoing — catches her glittering skin in the vestiges of the flames and eyes a little too wide, too aware.

That he does not pull back her veil to reveal the tips of her unnatural ears is only because now is a most desperate hour.

“The girl is an innocent, she is not of my blood.”

The etherie gives Cynbel the full weight of her glower. Eyes that have already seen a thousand years, maybe a thousand more still. That judge him unnatural and of the dead.

“The girl has chosen her fate, twining with those of the children of Phampira.”

“What fate is yet to come will reach far — even to your ‘tween realm. Whether you believe in my attempt to stop it or no, know that is my prophecy, and it will come true so long as Gaius Augustine wanders Rome.”

It is the name that churns the pot, that has the woman of unearthly magics giving cautionary looks about the abandoned temple steps before ushering him inside.

The smell of their foulness tickles at his nose and burrows like maggots beneath his skin. An itch he cannot scratch, the remnants of which he will feel for weeks to come. Such is the price of survival.

The eldest of them directs stragglers with an unfamiliar tongue. He can feel their glassy stares both direct and lurking afar as the two return with a thin bedroll and some meager excuse for a blanket. Somehow it still feels more substantial than what they had left at Nona’s home.

Their eyes at his back send gooseflesh racing down his arms; still his touch to her damp brow before he can collect himself — before he can work to block them out. This is a sanctuary and nothing more.

“I need you to gather your strength now,” he whispers vainly; knows those around catch his every word even as they skitter off like the fearful wild, “I have need of you yet.”

The first, the High Priestess, approaches on hesitant feet and leaves a clay bowl and cloth at their side. Looks Nona over wise and all-knowing.

“You have stretched this life beyond its means.”

“Save your judgment, etherie.”

“How many more lives will be lost in the storm that gathers at your heels?”

“However many it takes to keep my Beloved safe.”

As though summoned by his words the girl stirs beneath his hand. Clutches with a pale hand for him and she feels more than fragile, more than mortal. She feels as faint as smoke. The embers of her struggling to hold on in the downpour.

With glassy eyes Nona gazes up; looks at him without truly seeing. Moves her peeling lips in words unspoken; visions untold.

Yet no amount of his blood will heal her of this ill. As if he would not have tried it first? He knows the creature beside him could heal her easily. The effort of which would take no significant amount of its eternal years. Yet she watches idle; watches the girl while her life force fades still.

“Cyn…bel…”

Humans are warmth; filled with the heat of passion and life like he can no longer remember. Yet Nona beneath him is cold; grows colder. “I’m here, sweet girl. What do you see?”

He rests her silken touch on his temple, feels the sweat on his brow where gossamer strands stick to his skin.

Nona’s breathing grows ragged — stones in her lungs. The High Priestess can take no more and turns away, her veils lapping at her bare heels. So long as they give her rest it matters not.

“What do you see?”

“Blood. The river… the river runs of blood.”

“Through Rome?”

“Through the world. Spreading… spreading dark, dark out to the sea. Everything it touches; blood. In the lakes, the streams, ocean shores of salted froth and blooded rain falling in torrents. The Kingdom She Promised.”

There it is again.

The same words Gaius had said back in the exedra. A promised land — but for who? Where, and why? A promise to his Queen, Kamilah? Or was there a shadow unseen, behind the long tapestry of their kind made in the Godmaker’s wake, darker and beholding a creature even they could not fathom?

“She promised him peace,” says Nona; shakes Cynbel from his confusion because now was not the time to wonder of the future, the future that would matter not should he lose his love; “forged a blade of a broken shield. Yet now… now it has no master to wield it. The blade cannot wield itself. The blade cannot wield itself.”

Cynbel grits his teeth, resists the furrow in his brow. “That matters not. To me, seer, to me,” letting her tiny palm cradle his cheek, “I need you to see what he will do to my love. Will he be killed should the Godmaker succeed? Will Caesar if blooded of him?”

He would not call her petulant. Can see the toll taken on her even now. Any of a lesser faith would call her afflicted; possessed. Would stifle her gift but he needs it to flourish. If he is to save them it must.

“Answer me, seer. Should Caesar Turn, will my beloved die?”

A spectre passes over her. Nona convulses, then grows still. Lids heavy over eyes dull and near lifeless. Her blood slow, sluggish through her muddy veins.

“Nona — Nona—!”

If what she alone can see be not enough to stir her then so be it — he will be the monster of the abyss. Lets her hands fall limp to the stone floor and grasps her by the throat with a hand that betrays the true fear held back on threads of a barely-contained wrath.

Not long before what little breath she takes is a struggle; her heartbeat picking up in desperation. Eyes flying wide open as a flush overtakes her cheeks and Cynbel stares down unfeeling; no longer willing to be denied what he has been promised.

The world has always best responded to violence. Why should this be any different?

He allows himself — however briefly — to relish in the familiar sight of humanity ebbing from her expression as the animal instinct to survive takes over. Those same parchment-thin hands suddenly clawing at his stronger grip and this time when she tries to speak he knows he has the power to change it.

That’s why he uses her. For the power to change things beyond his knowledge. All of it; for them.

“Are you ready to answer me now?” He asks. Squeezes just… a little… tighter…

Nona continues to choke even when he releases her. Weakling lungs desperate to fill; to breathe — forcing her up through the pain of her affliction to choke and heave and grasp at her throat to remove even the memory of him from her flesh.

But that is a mercy Cynbel will no longer grant. His fingers tangle in her dark tresses — pulls her forward with a harsh tug to bring them intimately close.

He will not ask again. Nona’s life is in her own hands, now.

And fleeting though that life may be — she is desperate for it. “First the Empire, then the Pharaoh’s lands. Every Empire bathed in mortal blood — each crown dipped in his blood—by his hands. This world will fall, the New World will never rise. The dead cannot flourish — the shadow cannot grow. Caesar cannot Turn. It will be the end of everything.”

The end of everything.

The end of them. The end of him. The end of everything they have built.

Nona keens a strangled cry as he pulls her close — holds her aching, grieving. Her tears seep warm into his tunic and if she could she would no doubt wrench herself from him but the seer is weaker now than ever.

“‘For every pain there is purpose,’” Cynbel whispers into her skin; kisses there fond but not friendly — a gesture without love, “‘and every wound bore will bring wisdom.’”

What a comfort those words are. How they wrap around him like strong arms in the moments before the end.

He isn’t going to kill her now. He will; he has little choice in the matter. It has been seen… and cannot be undone.

“Thank you for all you have done for me, my sweet seer. For as long as I live I will be forever in your debt.”

Cruel though he is, it is not in his nature to be ungrateful. He waits until the sobs no longer wrack her body uncontrollable to lay her back upon her bedroll. He soaks the nearby cloth and wrings the water cool over his fingers before letting it rest on her weary eyes. Could the same thing be done for her inner eye he would offer a balm there, as well.

The vampire stands to take his leave; hesitates as he takes in from a distance just how small she is.

“You understand what you have done this night, child of Phampira.”

Cynbel schools his face in cool disinterest as he turns to face the High Priestess. Veils now fallen upon her shoulders, in the dark shimmers of their otherworldly etherie-fire she can be nothing other than what she is; with hair of snow that frames a face of youthful eternity and feline eyes that look upon him and name him behemoth.

“Ne’er again will you step within these halls. Lest even under the moon you feel the boiling of the sun’s light ignited in your veins.”

And he knows the threat is a real one — knows the dangers of those of his kind who have dared to tread over the toes of the etherie. Just as he knows the greed that lies beneath their radiance; greed of gold, of things deemed precious to the world of men.

She will be safe here.

At the base of the Temple of Minerva Cynbel stops and turns his face to what little he can stand of the paling sky. Tastes of the clouds on his tongue and allows himself the burden of memory.

“‘It is in the nature of us to covet, for we are because we could not choose between death and life.’” And as his first and only glimpse of divinity had whispered such gospel in his ear and cradled him in death-into-rebirth, he found them true.

Marcus Brutus changes everything.

When last Valdemaras met with the Senator Cassius it was to convince him to steal away their conspiracy in the night. Not only to secret their machinations to the shadows rather than risk arrest at the hands of Caesar’s loyal, but also to ensure his attendance; for the vengeful god Valdemaras was eager to see the Conqueror of Gaul and the Empire of Rome undone in the name of his beloveds.

But a vision comes to Brutus in the same dawn that reaches Cynbel’s hasty retreat from the temple.

“The Fates whisper to me,” he tells Cassius fearfully, “in such horrible voices. They whisper with the tongues of the dead by Caesar’s hand. They demand him slain at the feet of his Senate. They demand him seen by all, even those who would placate Caesar.”

Even men of little faith such as a Roman Senate do not ignore a righteous calling such as that. They use it to steady their trembling hands, to give justice in their traitorous steel.

So it is done. Caesar does not see sunset on the Ides of March.

He dies a mortal man; surrounded by enemies of his own making.

Godmaker, they call him. And the name rings true. His wrath—enough to stir the heavens and send the sun cowering early into the night.

Bone clutched in sheet-white fists and fangs grit to draw blood between his tongue; his demands not met by an intervention perhaps more sacred than divine. Even his Queen steps clear of his path of destruction — wide, unyielding, merciless.

“You,” snarls the Godmaker when he rounds on their god; turns his eyes with the fury of Titans where the blood god Valdemaras stands between him and his faithful because he could not be anywhere else, “if it comes to light you had anything to do with this—if you so much as whispered in an ear, or sent a blighted missive…”

When his hand raises a collective fear ripples through the three lovers; strong together, yes — but equally as vulnerable.

“I did not.”

“I will wring the truth from the marrow of your bones!”

“I did not!” Valdas screams. Gaius tortures him anyway.

Fire burns in his veins; a thousand deaths that didn’t quite take.

But it, too, passes. As the tempest of the Godmaker moves on from the spec of space they have become in the mere potential of his wrathful wake.

It had taken the lifetime of one influential man, several of lesser status, to bring them the wealth of their villa. Just as it takes the Godmaker one night to turn it all to rubble at their feet.

It is carnage for carnage’s sakes and yet they cannot find pleasure in it — when they look at the hollow, milk-white eyes of servants whose names they would never remember they know it could just as easily have been them in this burial mound of marble destruction.

The devoted of Valdemaras fall to their knees. Raise him up as they have done everything else: together.

And when the Golden Son raises his head he sees, through the cloud of dust and the ruins of their Roman lives, the Godmaker’s Queen does not look as sympathetic for her King’s loss as she should.

Why would she?

They are devoted to him utterly and completely. Yet that does not stop them from exchanging glances over the sweat on their god’s brow that they kiss with lips that taste of their tears.

“Did you do this?” they ask. Valdas did not.

“But I wish I had.”

In the nights that follow there are many times Cynbel feels confession on the tip of his tongue. That he looks upon them and knows in some far-gone and hidden part of him that events may not have unfolded the way they did had he not brought Nona to the etherie; had they not heard her prophecy of The End and somehow were the undoing of it.

But no matter the distance they put between themselves and Rome the darkness of the Godmaker lingers over them — a shroud. To tell them, he believes, would be to cast aside the curtain and burn them all alive.

Perhaps he is wrong. Perhaps this was simply the way things were meant to be.

Perhaps not.

I have proven you wrong, sweet seer. And I will again.

[coltknight63-blog]

Can Blind Individuals Cry Tears?

Exactly How To Update Curtains Or Drapes

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Content

Blinds Direct.

Best Home Window Blinds Of 2020

A Few Of Our Fave Colors.

Personal Privacy At House With Smart Tone.

The Aukey Right Angled Lightning Cord Is The Billing Wire You Didn'T Know You Required

Bay Windows, Corner Windows, As Well As All Other Windows At An Angle

Get Specialist Style Recommendations Today.

Any kind of quantity over $2500 is the single duty of the sweepstakes winner. The item price will be based upon the full retail worth of the picked home window treatments. Sales promotions, trade discount rates, or present cards can not be applied to this order. Shipping will be typical ground shipping and for free. Dimension and setup services might be given by a worker of The Color Shop or by an independent third party subcontractor/installer that is part of our regional installer network.

Blinds Direct.

What are the most popular window blinds?

In order for blinds to avoid getting 'lost' in the interior of a room, they should be lighter or darker than the walls.

This sort of blind is built from slim textile in wide areas that hang up and down. Unlike vertical blinds, these blinds generally only have 4 larger sections rather than several thin slats. Venetian blinds are commonly one of the most typical option in a lot of houses and also they can be used in any space of your home. They are often likewise one of the most aggravating to readjust due to the fact that you have to draw the string to the delegated open the slats prior to lowering or elevating them.

What type of blinds are cheapest?

4. just got a quote from them and it seems high. is this a company one can / should haggle with ? Yes do it.

Ideal Home Window Blinds Of 2020

. What the majority of us stop working to think about is the danger of blinds with cords. While messing around a youngster can quickly entangle themselves with the cord and also it can be dangerous. According to the US consumer item security payment, one youngster under the age of 10 years old passes away every month in the United States because of window cable strangulation.

These are also a far better choice because they enable you to see what is going on around you without obstructing the sight while protecting you from the hot sunlight rays. The use of exterior blinds can be an excellent means to maintain a patio location or covered bar-b-que space from splashing from the rain. These blinds are made from heavier as well as extra resilient materials, like woodgrain or reed, as well as can handle various weather conditions. These tones come in various shades, also black, and also will still allow for a clear view via them.

Instead of retreating inside your home, consider setting up a retracting awning to keep your patio area cool and shaded. Although there is not a typical collection of functions for clever blinds, these are a few of the usual features that you will certainly locate in some or every one of them.

A Couple Of Of Our Favorite Color Styles.

They are also very easy to install and also won't take up electrical outlet space.

Batteries are an especially convenient alternative for windows that are in hard-to-reach or far areas that aren't near an electrical outlet or where a cable would not be advisable.

So, also factoring in power savings, our motorized shades in fact spent for themselves in under 2 years.

In some applications, a single motor can run a big group of tones, better reducing the expense.

At the Mills offices, we have 2 big banks of home windows.

If you're concerned about the appearance of your motorized blinds, batteries are the most sophisticated option, as their positioning makes them undetectable.

Sign in to commentBe considerate, keep it civil as well as stay on subject. We remove remarks that breach our policy, which we encourage you to read. Conversation threads can be closed at any time at our discretion. The victor should place his/her order by November 11, 2020, or this offer will expire.

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What is the most relaxing bedroom color?

A person with total blindness won't be able to see anything. But a person with low vision may be able to see not only light, but colors and shapes too. However, rolgordijnen may have trouble reading street signs, recognizing faces, or matching colors to each other. If you have low vision, your vision may be unclear or hazy.

Offers insulation for your residence by trapping air in the cells of the color. Light filtering will certainly permit some all-natural light to travel through the color.

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Are blinds still in style?

We often get asked the question 'do curtains and blinds work together? ' The answer is, for the most part, 'yes' – when paired, the two can bring out a flexible décor and ensure adequate blocking of light and privacy control. However, there are some style guidelines to follow to get the look just right.

The MySmartBlinds set was originally moneyed on Kickstarter in 2014 and also is currently offered on Amazon.com. In December of 2017 they returned to Kickstarter to increase money for a MySmartBlinds Hub that enables you to connect your callous a smart house device like Amazon.com Mirror or Google Residence. " The main advantage of a retracting awning is the flexibility to readjust the quantity of sunlight exposure any time," Hotchkiss claims. Mechanized variations with push-button controls may raise the expense by around $800 to $1,000.

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This is practical for hill homes where you might have close-by walkers commonly, however still wish to see the landscape around you. These textiles are transparent yet don't enable those who are outside to have a clear view of the interior of your residence. This is best for exclusive areas with a view that you wish to enjoy at any moment.

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[joeys-piano]

Header created by @ao3commentoftheday, where creators may share sneak peeks their wip and readers can leave comments/motivation on unfinished works to let writers know that they can’t wait to see the final product~

In this segment of Work of Progress Wednesday, I’ll be sharing a preview and outline of the opening chapter to my current project, Survive Said The Prophet. Now keep in mind I wrote this chapter outline last night and that the outline will go through a few revisions before I deem it’s set and ready to start working on it. Originally, this opening chapter was from Dazai’s point-of-view when he was sent on a mission to quell discord in the West at the age of 18. However, I thought it would’ve been more interesting and more insightful if the chapter was told from Fyodor’s (22) point of view.

Not only does it setup the story and its conflicts in a rather unique way because it’s told from the perspective of the antagonist, this is one of those few moments where you get to read what’s going through Fyodor’s mind and understand why he does what he commits to. Additionally, this is one of the very few moments where he’s honest in his intentions and you have a clearer idea of what's going on behind-the-scenes in his mind.

If you do get a chance to read this, let me know what your thoughts are on this chapter outline/sneak preview~ It’s been a long time since I’ve written/outlined the first chapter for any story, so critiques are welcomed in regards to direction, conveyance, characters, and so forth.

Chapter Outline Disclaimers: The following content below the [read more] contains social commentary in regards to human rights and dignity, prejudice, and gun violence. Although the violence portrayed in this chapter outline is not vividly described, reader discretion is advised.

                                                       ~~~~~

Outline of Chapter One - No One Dares To Tell A Lie

The arc — and subsequently, the story — begins with a philosophical argument that overlays the opening scene of a female politician rising from her seat behind a crowd of men and former colleagues before stepping forward to face her audience, both local and international for this is being broadcast across all major networks, to apologize and promise to right what the government had done wrong. The philosophical argument that shrouds the atmosphere and gives a gray tinge to the surroundings is thus: Freedom vs. Justice. It’s been forty-three years since the manifestation of supernatural abilities, it’s been forty-three years since many innocents and families have been torn from their communities and from their loved ones due to discriminatory provisions and bounty hunts that have taken more than what was believed to be good, and it has only been six years since the nations of the world have asked themselves if what they’ve been doing has been wrong.

The female politician elaborates on the politics surrounding ability-users and the ability-community, of the culture and the paradigm of a society torn apart where brothers have turned on each other, and the efforts of organizations such as the International Gifted Alliance and the World’s Gifted Organization that have fought for and have provided the freedoms and dignity that ability-users were robbed of at the moment when differences between neighbors turned to prejudice and hate speech against people that were once friends and colleagues but now, strangers because of their manifestation of an ability. As the female politician speaks, in the midst of this public conference and rally in the country of Uruk (one of many countries who’re going through an internal reform to ‘right what had been wrong’), the philosophical battle between Freedom vs. Justice is illustrated on the wings of a bird, flying overhead as a feather slips from its body and momentarily blocks Fyodor’s line of sight as he steadies his sniper rifle. Interesting enough, he’s sprawled across the roof of one of Uruk’s courthouses. Fyodor speaks into his earpiece and affirms that he’s clear. He has the female politician in his sight. Asking where he currently is and how the other half of the mission is going, one could hear a smile in Nikolai’s response as he mentions he fits in so well that not even the political guards can’t tell that one of their own is missing.

The plan is not for Fyodor to shoot and kill the female politician. No, Fyodor’s mission is to incite a distraction and ensue chaos over the fact that a live shooter is active on the premise. In the disarray, Nikolai (disguised as a guard) was to escort the female politician to safety before shooting her in a predestined location, behind society’s eyes, before vanishing from the scene with the use of his ability, The Overcoat. Both men had been rented out by their Bratva and were hired by an opposition group to take down the female politician and her message of change. Who was anyone kidding? Uruk was merely one out of dozens of countries, across Europe and the world, drowning in political discord at the very thought that ability-users were reclaiming their dignity and were being seen as more than the “monsters or mere tools” that they have been viewed as for over forty years. Wasn’t it ironic, knowing that the two men for this job were also ability-users? But for now, the best way to put it was that Fyodor and Nikolai were merely stray dogs, quite aware of how far their leash could extend for each and every time they pulled against their restraints. Simply, they were merely carrying out the job that was expected for people like them.

Ability-users were more like tools for an ideology or a means to a cause. Whatever power residing inside of them had one purpose in the minds of conventional, old-school train of thought: these abilities were merely weapons and thus, it was required to leash and remind an ability-user of what they were to prevent them from doing anymore harm. In the old-school train of thought, it seemed absurd to let “untamed weapons” run amok and coexist with those of normal society. Without rules and a stubborn leash, it only bred disarray and discord for ability-users could manipulate their powers and upset the balance or status quo that had been maintained by normal society for centuries now. To bear in mind, ability-users were a relatively recent phenomenon and the opposition believed that these individuals needed to be treated as lesser in order for society to balance itself. The world was never meant for ability-users or at least, that was what those of conventional thought held dear to their hearts. To maintain the status quo and to not be usurped by a growing population of individuals that they couldn't quite understand, the opposition to Uruk’s changing stance on ability-user sought for Fyodor and Nikolai. Both men were formidable in their work and their abilities possessed unique properties that made assassinating a politician as easy as could be. Because Crime and Punishment and The Overcoat hardly left any traces behind, and both abilities never failed to get the job done. However, in a moment of pause as guilt settled in, Nikolai’s morality caught up with him and he expressed his concerns if this was the right thing to do. This wasn’t the first time Nikolai expressed such thoughts. His morality often had a habit of resurfacing before a job needed to be done, and it was merely Fyodor’s job as his partner to dissuade those intrusive thoughts and realign Nikolai’s objective to the current one at stake. Fyodor asked if Nikolai had seriously considered what the politician had said in her speech. It was fundamentally impossible for people like them to coexist in a world that was never meant for them. In that response, Fyodor wasn’t parroting the opposition that had hired him and Nikolai. He was speaking from his own experience, speaking from a past event that made it very clear that a person like him could never live normally after he had been outed as a monster by his own ability. Behind his sniper rifle, Fyodor inadvertently tensed up when a voice from his past, a voice he could never escape from, taunted him at his ear. “Your crime is your ability, your death will be your punishment.” Nikolai turned Fyodor’s response on its side and replied if that was the case, then humans were never meant for this world and that the only reason why people remain on this earth today was because of a benevolent promise bestowed on a certain family. For as it was written, this family believed that there was good, even in the places and the people where one wouldn’t expect it from. Even when it seemed that the other of their society were criminals and debauched, this family believed that good people did exist in the burrows of sin and sorrow and wanted to protect those people.

Nikolai compared that biblical story to the present, to the efforts of global organizations and leaders and people that were doing something to protect and aid those who didn’t do anything wrong from unjust punishment. Despite what their client may believe, Nikolai’s morality and his conscience were in favor that ability-users weren’t the real monsters of this conflict. The real monsters were the people and groups that refused to view those different from them as anything more than just those differences and did everything in their power to suppress, harass, belittle, and harm just because they were afraid of what they couldn’t understand. Fyodor could feel his ability twitch inside as Nikolai’s choice of words, and he decides to give Nikolai something to think about to suppress that morality Nikolai had worn at his sleeve. And, at the same time, perhaps these words were for Fyodor as well to suppress that change of heart that nearly consumed him. Fyodor has gone too far to turn back on who he has become, and it was his fear of the unknown that keeps him grounded in a set of beliefs that made him exist as a walking contradiction. “It ought to be something that Lady Justice judges blind but occasionally, when her scales tip to another’s favor, she’ll peek from under her blindfold and make her swift judgment then.” Through Fyodor, Lady Justice will enact the true verdict to an issue that she could no longer ignore. As long as there were ability-users in this world and if people came to accept them for who they were, they were only opening a threshold for demons and Fyodor’s wings had yet to be clipped. Fundamentally, as long as they were ability-users in this world, they would only stir the greed, hate, and jealousy residing in humanity’s nature and unravel the nuances of the Devil and of sin. Because of ability-users, the work of the Devil had firmly integrated itself into society and that was why Fyodor was so against acceptance for people of his kind. He believed in the opposition and believed that things could’ve been taken one step further. If there was a way to rid the world of ability-users, only an act like that would truly restore the world and cleanse it from its sins. With his mind steadied and quelled, Fyodor waited for his opportunity to shoot. His client had specific orders, telling him to shoot at the moment he got the all-clear from them. The opposition had planned and prepared a joint-argument that they were to make in the midst of the chaos, inciting that change would only harm and kill more lives than it would save. Truly ironic, coming from a group that hired one man to stage himself as a live shooter while they hired another to kill the vocal piece of Uruk’s changing stance on ability-users. However, a job was a job. When Fyodor received a visual all-clear from the crowd below, Fyodor pulled the trigger. The bullet passed the female politician and pierced the podium, embedding splinters and wood into her skin as chaos tore the scene apart. Right on cue, Nikolai moved from where he was stationed and escorted the female politician to safety while the other guards escorted the rest of the political officials and colleagues. Fyodor prepared to move out and meet Nikolai again at their rendezvous point. Pulling out from the scene and slipping away into the network of alleys and cobbled streets behind the courthouse, Fyodor passed his weapon to one of the men from the opposition and promptly killed them with Crime and Punishment when they grasped him roughly and demanded for respect after Fyodor slammed the rifle case into their chest. After his ability had done its work and Fyodor inspected that not a drop of blood had gotten onto himself, he turned to look at the mutilated, pulp of a body left behind and bid his respect that the “dear gentleman” had covered things up for him. The rendezvous point that Fyodor was supposed to meet Nikolai at was near a local bakery, blocks away from the chaos down in central, and it was quiet and quaint enough where they could enjoy a bit of leisure before leaving this country and returning to St. Petersburg. Fyodor purchased a bagel that he knew Nikolai would enjoy and grew increasingly concerned when Nikolai didn’t return. Fyodor spoke through the earpiece and learned through Nikolai that their client, the entirety of the opposition group that had hired them, were all dead. Someone knew what they were doing and had taken them out. It was quite possible that whoever did it were on to them, and Nikolai warned Fyodor that he needed to leave.

Fyodor asked where Nikolai was and did he finish the job. Nikolai didn’t answer if he accomplished the job, but said they weren’t the only ones on a job today. Someone from another organization, someone from the East, had been contracted and Nikolai believed that today’s kill was done by the same person that had been taking down opposing riot groups who’ve attempted to silence the peace talks and changes for ability-users all over Europe. Nikolai concluded this when he was the aftermath of what happened to the men that had hired him and Fyodor and saw the distinct, kill-signature that had been left behind. Nikolai and Fyodor agreed to go their separate paths and to meet again at sunset in another location. Afterwards, Fyodor boarded a public bus to blend into the crowd and make up some ground. Cautious and wary, Fyodor pulled his hands from his pockets as he walked through the crowded bus to find a place to stand. Along the way, his hand lightly brushed against people and he could see into their moral judgment and the most recent crime or sin they had done. It was a preemptive way for him to learn about the people around him and to find out who the contractor from the East was if they had boarded the bus with him. Through his connections and the information gathered from his employment with the Bratva of Spades, the only information in regards to this contractor was that they weren’t an ability-user, they went by the name of Vino, and that their signature kill-style involved shattering one’s jaw after either emptying bullets into the body or stabbing the major and most vulnerable parts of the body. Obviously, this Vino character knew the human anatomy quite well and was proficient at the job. While on the bus, Fyodor didn’t notice anyone strange until he was about to leave. Someone reached out and clasped their fingers around his hand. An odd sensation overcame Fyodor, as if a part of him had died, and he turned around. There was a young man with shaggy hair holding his hand, with a black cap over his head and obscuring his eyes. He spoke with a lilt in his accent when he said that Fyodor had dropped something. It was the bagel bag. Fyodor accepted it, unable to shake off the feeling that his ability had been suppressed at this young man’s touch. Fyodor had heard about something similar to this before, back in Yokohama during the Dragon Head Rush Incident a few years ago. When he unearthed information about the research facility that exploded offshore and how the wild beast that rampaged through the city suddenly disappeared without a trace. There was a brief mention in the records he gathered that a Nullification drug in development on the offshore research facility, but whatever came of it was never known. Presumed that it was destroyed but now, Fyodor couldn't shake off the feeling that he had just encountered someone with that fabled property at their touch. The feeling remained with Fyodor, even after he and Nikolai finally reunited and Nikolai confessed that he didn’t kill the politician. Not after what he saw and found of their client. Even with the Bratva of Spades, one of the best organizations when it came to intel in the underground world, there was hardly any information about Vino. Nikolai speculated that Vino may’ve been hired by Strain, but Fyodor doubted it because it wasn’t in Strain’s best interest to take a hit on the people that made up their clientele base. Just as both men were about to leave and transport back to St. Petersburg through Nikolai’s ability, Fyodor was about to duck his head and enter Nikolai’s coat when his partner suddenly pushed him out of the way. A bullet casing from a sniper pierced through Nikolai’s eye when he took what would’ve been a fatal hit for Fyodor. Both mind and body were thrown into overdrive at the mere sign that Vino was within the vicinity. Without a gun of his own, Fyodor pried the one from Nikolai and defended him and his partner as he hurried them to safety. If Vino was going to take them out from the high-ground, Fyodor and Nikolai ducked behind a series of narrow and obscured streets until they found salvation in a place that was relatively hidden from the rest of the world. Once there, before doing anything to soothe the agony Nikolai was going through, Fyodor asked if Nikolai got a good look of who Vino was.

Between anguish and his muffled screams when Fyodor covered his mouth and tried to ground Nikolai back to reality, Nikolai blurted something along the lines that Vino wanted to go home. When he took the bullet for Fyodor and saw who Vino was, he was able to see what Vino desired most from the world, and all the assassin wanted was to go home. If Vino accomplished this mission, he could return and be with the person that he held dear in his heart. Slipping in and out of consciousness, Nikolai urged Fyodor to leave him behind. Vino would get them both if Fyodor stayed here. He had to go. Fyodor couldn’t leave Nikolai. Not only was Nikolai’s ability one of the only full-proof methods where they could disappear from this country without a trace, Fyodor had made a promise to his partner and damn it, leaving Nikolai to die wasn’t part of the solution-plan Fyodor had in mind. Before another word could be exchanged, Vino found and cornered the duo. How he found them? Fyodor’s mind had yet to process that when he heard the pin of a gun behind him and turned around. Stepping out from the shadows and into the sunlight was the familiar, black cap-wearing young man Fyodor had encountered on the bus earlier that day. From the low, crouching position that Fyodor was in, he could see that the most striking feature on the young man was the dead stare in his eyes. As if he had forsaken good and evil for behaviorism, to do as he was told in an attempt to reunite with someone that he could never return to. The only thing separating Vino from his desire was the fact that Nikolai and Fyodor were still breathing in front of him.

Tags → work in progress, wip, writing, wip wednesday, writing critique, survive said the prophet

[technoftday]

Understanding the Internet of things

For basically anybody in the Western world, the Internet is not just universal, it's essentially unpreventable. Between telephones, tablets, PCs, diversion consoles, TVs and set-top boxes, the Internet exists in each edge of our lives. Practically.

In the wake of the 2014 Consumer Electronics Show (CES), we're hearing louder than at any other time that what's to come is "The Internet of Things," ordinary gadgets furnished with sensors and availability to cooperate, comprehend what we're doing, and work naturally to make our lives less demanding. What's more, obviously, we'll have the capacity to control and arrange it all, presumable with our tablets and cell phones, or by talking. All things considered, Siri and Google Now have taken voice acknowledgment standard.

In any case, past a good natured idea that guarantees to convey all of us to a significantly higher condition of availability, what does the Internet of Things mean? At the point when will it at last arrive? In what capacity will it change our day by day lives? What happens when it turns out badly?

The huge thought

The expression "Web of Things" is generally credited to Kevin Ashton; he's demonstrated that he instituted the term in 1999 while at Proctor and Gamble, yet it didn't bring off until 2009 with an article in RFID Journal. At an extremely essential level, "Web of Things" implies gadgets that can detect parts of this present reality — like temperature, lighting, the nearness or nonattendance of individuals or items, and so forth — and report that certifiable information, or follow up on it. Rather than most information on the Internet being delivered and devoured by individuals (content, sound, video), more data would be created and devoured by machines, conveying between themselves to (ideally) enhance the nature of our lives.

A restroom bureau that tells you when it's running low on tissue could be extremely valuable.

Keen gadgets utilize Internet advances like Wi-Fi to speak with each other, your tablet, and now and again straightforwardly with the cloud. Some additionally converse with a focal center that fills in as control point for a wide range of gadgets, similar to the Revolv. Preferably, proprietors can utilize that focal get to point from their cell phones and tablets, either at home or when they're all over the place.

That is all quite theoretical, so how about we convey it sensible. The exemplary case is a shrewd cooler that can read RFID labels on staple things as they're put inside, at that point look into those labels by means of the Internet to distinguish drain, eggs, margarine, and those four solidified pizzas you just purchased. The cooler tracks use, at that point — signal trumpets! — cautions proprietors when they're coming up short on perishables, or need more nourishment since individuals are approaching watch the diversion this end of the week. (The refrigerator can take advantage of your timetable, obviously). The fridge could even put in a basic need request naturally (maybe conveyed by means of Amazon Fresh). Thus, that keen ice chest could caution about items nearing (or past) their termination dates.

In principle, stretching out these thoughts to things like wash rooms, storage rooms, and pharmaceutical cupboards is basic. Seniors and others could profit by savvy medication cupboards that track meds, arrange refills, and even ready doctors if something's awry. What's more, simply think: A washroom bureau that tells you when it's running low on bathroom tissue could be extremely valuable. Shrewd storage rooms could enable you to deal with your garments with updates when you truly should do clothing (you have two sets of clean socks left!), or take things to the laundry, or even say farewell to a few things you never wear.

Can't recall whether you have to purchase toothpaste? Ask your home.

Envisioning the conceivable outcomes

Web of Things LG HomeChatThe Internet of Things idea fits phenomenal thoughts. Consider the possibility that your home could spare you exertion by perceiving that you're at a drugstore and consequently sending a rundown of things you require. Stood away on a business trip? Advise your home to remain in excursion mode, turning lights on and off to make the place look lived-in, however not running up warming and cooling bills.

Gadget to-gadget correspondence makes different conceivable outcomes. Straightforward movement sensors can distinguish individuals moving around the house, turning lights on and off, opening or shutting blinds or wraps, or notwithstanding altering temperature. This usefulness is now so refined that numerous sensors are sensibly "pet safe," so pooches and felines don't trigger computerized capacities.

Got a critical telephone call and left the TV on? The house could kill the TV (to spare power) however leave the DVR running. Sensors in a bed (or a wake up timer) could inform different gadgets when you wake; thus, they could open window hangings, begin the coffeemaker, and discretely turn on the TV in the breakfast niche for news, climate, and movement. At the point when the garments dryer completes, perhaps an alarm shows up on your TV so you can get things before they wrinkle. In the event that it's dull outside, a sensor in your front entryway bolt could turn within lights before you venture inside — all things considered, autos have been doing things like that for quite a long time.

Doesn't this stuff as of now exist?

On the off chance that these "savvy home" thoughts appear to be recognizable, this is on the grounds that many are available — they're recently not typical. One understood illustration is the Nest indoor regulator (now claimed by Google). It changes warming and cooling in view of use designs and notwithstanding charging rates, and can be controlled from a versatile application. Home has fanned out into "savvy" smoke identifiers as well, and has rivalry from any semblance of Netatmo and numerous other brilliant home arrangements.

Web of Things Nest Protect

So also, brilliant apparatuses have been around for a considerable length of time, not simply iceboxes, but rather clothes washers, warming and cooling frameworks, lighting, and dishwashers as well. At present, Samsung is putting money on its Smart Home stage while LG is putting forth portable applications that basically let clients control their machines by means of instant message. Many business, custom-introduce, and DIY home mechanization frameworks additionally qualify as a major aspect of the "Web of Things," regardless of whether that is a home-security benefit offered by a link organization that can be checked from a cell phone, a client installable sensor station or Bluetooth-prepared savvy locks.

Shrewd beds? Correct, the new Sleep Number beddings can track your rest — it's a short stride from that point to incorporating with home frameworks. Can't cook? Come 2015, a shrewd flame broil will control you through not consuming nourishment.

Why aren't we there yet?

On the off chance that there are such a variety of savvy gadgets, why aren't we as a whole living in the home without bounds? Loads of reasons.

To start with, RFID labeling of things like basic needs, garments, and prescriptions hasn't streamed down to buyers — and most likely won't at any point in the near future. Regardless of the possibility that things are labeled, there's no basic approach to find them; anticipates like the Open Food Facts and SimpleUPC are simply in their outset. Without the capacity to effortlessly and precisely distinguish things, many brilliant apparatuses (like coolers) are quite moronic. For example, even the most recent shrewd ice chests showed for the current year at CES make clients track nourishment things by checking receipts or standardized identifications with their telephones. That makes monitoring family unit things for keen gadgets a fiddly task — the sort of disturbance the Internet of Things should dispense with, not make.

In case we're not watchful we may mull over what our homes think about us, not exactly what we post to informal organizations.

Second, most "associated home" items are restrictive biological communities. Good fortunes getting your Samsung cooler, Whirlpool washer, Nest indoor regulator, Sears dishwasher, and ADT home security framework to converse with each other. Noted technologist Jean-Louis Gassee calls this the "wicker bin of remotes" issue — beyond any doubt, there are approaches to get (a few) gadgets (sort of) cooperating, however it's an excessive amount of bother for the vast majority — like programming an all inclusive remote. Until the point that associated home innovation works basically and remains out of our way, having a workable associated home frameworks implies binds ourselves to only one framework or brand.

There is some space for union. The AllSeen Alliance is making an all inclusive, open-source system to empower the "Web of Everything," in view of the AllJoyn structure, contributed by Qualcomm. On the off chance that this standard additions footing, AllSeen may settle the "wicker bin of remotes" issue. "It's intended to be future verification," composed AllSeen's administrator Liat Ben-Zur. "[AllSeen] can consider what's accessible now, while likewise considering the future incorporation of a scope of different gadgets."

Third, home machines don't turn over at an indistinguishable rate from cell phones, tablets, or even PCs. Individuals don't supplant iceboxes and other home apparatuses rapidly. Tablets may have slaughtered off netbooks in only a couple of years, however it will take far longer for shrewd apparatuses to move into many individuals' lives.

Web of Things Sleep Number x12

Fourth, the "Web of Things" brings a huge number of protection and security suggestions. Albeit late reports of brilliant coolers sending spam are likely overstated, a "Web of Things" is additionally a "Web of Things That Can Be Hacked." Smart-home gadgets will know an extraordinary arrangement about our own lives, from our timetables to shopping propensities, arrangements, what meds we take, and even what room we're in. That makes the protection suggestions tremendous. We may mull over what our homes think about us, not exactly what we post to interpersonal organizations.

Sit back and watch

There's little inquiry the "Web of Things" will in the end be huge: IDC envisions 200 billion associated gadgets by 2021, with more than 30 billion being self-governing gadgets. Utilizing Internet innovation to make our homes and gadgets more astute is straightforward, but on the other hand is an expansive attempt that will take significantly additional time — all things considered, we've just been busy over 10 years.