#Dry Land Distillers

[vicdillahay]

Set List: Dry Land Distillers Solo, 12/4/2024

Set 1 Improvisation Autumn Leaves (Joseph Kosma) Day of Wine and Roses (Henry Mancini) Work Song (Nat Adderly) Grin (Vic Dillahay) Seven Come Eleven (Charlie Christian / Benny Goodman) Have You Met Miss Jones (Richard Rodges / Lorenzo Hart) Cibeles (Vic DIllahay) Who Does She Hope to Be (Sonny Sharrock) Jeannine (Duke Pearson) Bright Size Life (Pat Metheny) Set 2 My Funny Valentine (Richard…

[ohmanareyoucereal9]

Across the Universe (deer!reader x Chris)

*ೃ༄ contents: smut, friends to fwb, sub!reader, softdom!Chris x deer!reader , slowburn, substance usage, fingering, multiple fem!orgasms, squirting, high sex, aftercare, some fluff, no use of y/n, proofread

wc: 4.7k

✰ a/n: this WILL be a series fic, just to lyk. also guys i get that this is quite a niche thing to put into a character au esp for Chris who loves hip hop and rap but i just love the idea of it sm, i hope you guys enjoy. <3

this is loosely inspired by @darksturnz artist!chris character au !

Art school. Hell on earth, you might call it. You came off as an odd soul to others, you always have. Ever since kindergarten. You struggled to make friends with anyone in your class, not that you cared that much, you were used to the isolation.

Around the start of high school, you realised that you didn’t need friends, you made yourself believe they were a waste of time, but deep down, your heart was aching for some sort of special, genuine connection with someone.

You stood right beside the tracks waiting for your train to arrive. This is a new experience for you entirely.

You were content with riding your bike to school everyday, until just a few days ago you stumbled off a curb a bit too aggressively and ended up scraping your knee pretty bad, leaving a gnarly patch of missing skin on your leg that you tried your best to conceal with a large square plaster, bulging weirdly out of proportion in contrast to your cool skin, a pool of purple green bruises surround the wound.

But what upset you the most was the chain broken and the brakes in shambles. You can’t ride your bike for a while, not until it’s repaired.

You start fidgeting your fingers and feet, unsure of how to keep yourself busy while waiting. The grainy and muffled noise of your music blaring in your wired earphones could be heard from miles away. You then start to rummage through your auburn brown rucksack. Again, trying to make yourself look busy.

You were the type of person to overthink every little thing. When your stomach rumbles a little too loud, you panic and wonder if anyone overheard, using your card at the cash register, being too indecisive whether to insert or tap it. And like now, you’re too worried that you look like an idiot standing still, waiting for the train to come.

You start to nibble at the rugged skin around your nails as you disassociate into your own little world, thanks to your music. 

“Your music’s a little loud, kid” a dry, supple voice snaps you out of the imaginary dream land you were just in, it makes you jump slightly. You hastily go to grab one of the buds out of your ear and shift your head to see Chris standing there, giving you a lazy smile.

You wouldn’t call Chris your friend. You wouldn’t call anyone that. He was also quite a lonely individual at art school. Which confuses you since you always thought he had such a peculiar charisma to him, and he seemed snarky and confident. You’re not so certain that he cares that much though, like you.

You’re one of the only people he speaks to properly, besides a few acquaintances that he sits next to in class. He gave you his phone number just in case you needed something from him, like help with notes and such.

Chris’ art was beautiful, they really captured all of the right emotions in one single piece. It made you admire him, look up to him like a role model. You were never open about that to him though.

Chris had always had this attraction to you, whether it was platonic or not he always found you so interesting.

The way you always kept to yourself, never spoke up unless asked to, when you sometimes crotchet in pure distilled silence during lectures you had together, your shyness, although you have no fear in killing your hearing by blasting your tunes until your cochlea was about to explode through your worn out earphones. It’s what made you so appealing to him.

You were weird, sure. You had a few peculiar interests that most wouldn’t have, but he liked that about you. He enjoyed having you around.

“Oh, hi Chris” you speak shyly, just slightly above a whisper. You struggle to find eye contact with Chris as your back to staring down, tangling your fingers together nervously. “Hey doll, never thought I'd see you here. You’re always on your little bike” he chuckles softly.

You come to the realisation that Chris has to travel by train. It makes you wonder how close or far he must live from school, maybe somewhere close to you. “My bike broke. I'm taking the train until it’s repaired” you mumble almost incoherently. Your lips barely move to enunciate the vowels and consonants falling out of your mouth.

“Oh, that’s a shame” Chris replies, studying the assorted freckles on your face without trying to make it look too obvious. There’s an awkward, jarring silence between the two of you. It's deafening to say the least.

“What’re you listening to anyway? From what I heard, it sounded nice” he inquired, snapping the uneasy feeling from the quiet. His voice was low and casual, the slight smirk on his face shifts into a kind beam. “J-just Fiona Apple” you mutter.

You’re not sure why, but Chris makes you so nervous whenever he’s around. With others, you’re just distant, emotionally unavailable.

Chris however, makes you feel a weird tingling sensation all around your sternum. Like a cocoon blooming into a hive of butterflies fluttering through your ribcage. 

“Ooh, I've never heard of her before. Y’gotta put me on her songs” his voice pours out nice and smooth like silk. The request makes your face flush reddish pink and you twist your head around, completely concealing your embarrassment from him.

Quickly after, you turn back to face Chris and look up at him for a split second through your long mascaraed eyelashes.

“Sure, I can do that” you mumble, a smile creeping up your mouth. Chris’ eyes widen at the subtle but rare sighting of something of a positive expression on your face, which makes his mouth curl into a toothy grin.

“Wow, was that… a smile?” he looks down at your figure, he examines how your chest quickly rises and falls to match the timid giggle at his dry but charming sarcastic joke. 

You turn your head to fully face Chris, switching in between his icy blue irises to the train rapidly approaching. “After class, I'll put on one of my main playlists for you. I-i’ll maybe show you more than fiona apple” your voice slowly transforms from a hushed, mousy tone to almost a shout as the train finally comes to a screeching halt.

“Sounds like a plan, you have my number, don’t you? Message me, we can link after class. We can take the train back to my place” he yells, trying to make himself heard to you over the noise of everyone’s footsteps clamoring close to hop on the train.

You opened your mouth to interject and speak up but the doors of the train were already open, Chris swiftly turned forward, breaking the stare he held upon you the entire time you waited together to step on the train. You quickly followed before the doors closed. You decided to give up on trying to debate, you’re going over to Chris’ house.

Class was over, finally. The thought of spending time with Chris at his house so suddenly after only being strictly acquainted jumbled up your thoughts completely. You rub at your forehead and muddle your bangs about as some kind of way to shake the nerves off.

You don’t know why you’re so anxious about the whole idea. It was just a friendly hang out with Chris. Just a friendly hang out with Chris.

You rush to pack all of your pens and pencils back into your rucksack and speed out of the classroom with a gallop in your step. You’re scrambling for your phone after you push your portfolio into your locker to text Chris that your class is over and that the two of you can meet now.

‘i’m out now, where shall we meet?’

read at 12:32 PM

‘meet me outside of the courtyard, i’ll take you home with me afterwards :)’

You’re stuck waiting awkwardly again, until you see Chris’ figure come into your frame of vision. He gives you a benign smile which makes your eyes light up ever so slightly. He nods his head up faintly as a sort of “Hey” gesture. You look up at him with a gentle shimmer in your stare as he approaches you.

“Hey doll, ready to go?” you missed hearing his deep, raspy voice. It had only been a few hours, but you longed to hear it again. You loved the slight growl he adorned in his vowels when he spoke. It was almost primal.

You never thought about it much, but you thought a lot of the things Chris did ever so naturally, were quite attractive. “Yeah, I'm ready”

The two of you stroll side by side in yet another awkward silence. Chris drifts his eyes elsewhere to the foreground of hedged bushes. You however, soaked up the sound of both of your footsteps trudging into the crunchy gravel below.

“So, how come you’re so quiet, kid? I rarely hear you speak. And you’re always on your own at lunch” Chris pipes up. The question snaps you back into reality. Mostly because you were miles away, but also because no one has ever really asked you that question wholeheartedly, just slightly concerned teachers and patronising bullies.

“I-i don’t really know… I don’t have a lot to talk about with others, I guess” your voice is ever so soft to Chris’ ears. “Oh come on, don’t give me that shit. You’re more interesting than that” he scoffs. “‘You think so?” your eyes wide and dilated with curiosity.

“I know so, you need to stop putting yourself down like that. You’re cool”

The whole portrayal of the compliment makes your heart pound inside your chest, enough to make your rib cage rattle. There’s an airy feeling in your stomach which almost makes you feel sick, but not the bad kind. It tells you that you’re enjoying yourself and that you’re excited for what’s to come next.

“How…how about you then? I don’t see you with many people at school either” The question he’s heard oh, too many times, similar to your predicament.

“Ehh, I just don’t fuck with big groups of people like that” he seems truly careless by the way his expression doesn’t move one bit. Whereas you, a feeling of hurt lingers in the hollowness of your bones whenever people stray away from you with looks of disgust. It makes you go green with envy.

You soon make it to the station, no later than that you step on the train alongside Chris. The two of you sat next to each other on one row, your shoulders ever so slightly touching every now and again.

Chris rests into a manspread as soon as he sits, though he makes sure he’s not taking up too much space, for your sake.

You take your wired earphones out of your knitted cardigan pocket to prop the right one in your ear and the left leering around Chris’ face, offering it to him. To which he gladly accepts. He has to inch slightly closer to not put tension on the wires between you two, making his shoulders touch yours indefinitely.

You scroll through your playlists to spot the one you were playing in the early morning. You scroll through the songs to play ‘Across the Universe’ by Fiona Apple.

The somber guitar playing makes you sink into your seat as your head sways to the window beside you, gawking at the grey sky and green and orange pine trees zooming by. You sing the mellow lyrics of Fiona’s winsomely but quietly, perfectly in key. Leaving Chris in a trance.

While you’re looking away, he takes the chance to admire every little thing about you. Your pouty lips smudged with lipstick. The way your ears perk out slightly from underneath your lively, beautiful locks, your collarbones migrating with every rise and fall of your chest, your nail polish chipping off into funky patterns as you fidget with your fingers and bite the cracked, outgrown ends off your nail bed.

The song comes to a close and fades into nothing. You go to press pause before the next song in the queue plays.

“So, what did you think?” your irises huge with passion as you turn to Chris. Who was whacked back into the real world after being heavily enthralled by just your existence.

“It was beautiful, very you” Chris beams a cute smile. Your expression lights up, enough for Chris to notice. He knows you don’t know how to take compliments, but he at least knows your expression is somewhat readable so he knows how you’re feeling. 

Chris soaks in the moment and stares down at your lips again, before snapping his eyes up to meet yours. “Not long until our last stop” you maunder.

Chris sighs to himself and rubs his eyes with a quick “yep.” He offers your earphone back as you both stand up and wait for the train to break into a complete stop after a few seconds.

You both hop off and you twist around to find your pocket to put your earphones back in. Chris leers at you with both of his hands in his pockets, waiting patiently as you fix yourself up before walking again all the way to his house.

After natural and laid-back chit chat during slow walking, you finally reach Chris’ house. The door was a dark forest-y green. Which you found quite pleasing to look at.

Chris shuffles in his pockets to obtain his house keys, they jangle about as he carelessly swings it into the keyhole of his door to unlock it. He pushes the door open by grasping the knob and twisting it. He turns to you and beckons you with a sway of his head, manoeuvring you to come inside first before him.

Chris clamours up the stairs and you follow like a lost puppy behind him. He lazily nudges his bedroom door open with his shoulder and face plants into the bed, twisting his head to the side after a minute to let out an exasperated sigh.

You invite yourself to sit on his bed in proper etiquette form, unsure of what to do with yourself while Chris lays still for a second.

He kicks his shoes off and reaches out to his bedside table to grab a small, ceramic pot with psychedelic patterns embroidered into the pottery.

He pops open the lid to take out half a joint. He extends his hand back into his pocket to have a lighter in his grasp whilst the other hand places the butt of the joint right into the opening of his mouth.

You simply do or say nothing but watch. Your eyes follow the way his hands cup the lighter before he realises he needs your approval to smoke.

“Shit- uhm, are you okay with me smoking, doll? I won’t if you don’t want me to” he purrs in a sympathetic tone, half his words muffled by the spliff clasped between his lips. “Oh, no, I don't mind at all. Do as you please”

It was strange because you genuinely didn’t care about him smoking in front of you. You weren’t the type to judge people to do such unfaithful things, like doing drugs, however whenever you were talking to someone who was vaping and they had the audacity to blow it all in your face, making you cough. Yeah, that made you seethe.

But Chris was different. It didn’t surprise you that he smoked, of course. You’re unsure of what this feeling was, but there’s a strange comfort in seeing Chris trust you enough to where he wants to smoke weed in front of you. It made you feel warm seeing Chris in a somewhat vulnerable state.

“D-do you live on your own, Chris?” you inquire, you noticed that no one was home to greet him when you first came in.

“Yeah, I moved out of my family home as soon as I turned 18. Nothing personal, it was just a spur of the moment thing, I guess. I had a ton of money saved up ever since I was, what, like… 14? And I wanted to live closer to art school, so…” he rambles, mumbling with the joint still in his mouth, clicking the lighter alight. Taking the smoke into his lungs.

He pinches the roach out of his mouth as he exhales. A cloud of smoke lingers and the scent of marijuana invades your senses. You don’t complain much though. You think it smells quite pleasant.

He stretches his hand out towards you, blunt in hand. “Want some?” his eyes already low and bloodshot red with that same faint smile plastered on his face. 

You hesitate, you glance at Chris’ red orbs then back down to the joint. “J-just one puff. And then I'm done” you snatch the roach off of Chris and take a long drag. You were unsure of how much to take in. A good bunch of the joint fell into your lap in ashes from the amount you took.

“Hey! ‘Fuck you doin’ kid, are you trying t’green out on purpose?” he hisses, plucking the joint from out of your hand. A vast amount of smoke comes seeping out of your mouth and you hum in ecstasy.

“Oh…wow…” you exhale in awe. It hits you like a ton of bricks. Your mouth goes dry and you let out a raspy but loud giggle at Chris’ scolding from earlier.

“Your Bostonian accent comes out a lot when you’re pissed” you snorted, your cheeks hurting from the huge gleam on your face, your high eyes wrinkled. Showing your full set of pearly whites to him. You’re not used to smiling this much.

Chris’ bothered expression softened into a smirk that he tried to hide with a hushed “shut up.” looking away, indistinctly laughing at your snarky, non-sober remarks.

“How did you even know I was from Boston anyway? I haven’t told anyone that shit. ‘You been stalking me? Hm?” he snarls slyly. Squinting his eyes at you with a smirk.

“Uh, no. I just know what a Boston accent sounds like. Don’t flatter yourself” you snap back smiling whole-heartedly, lightly punching Chris’ arm. He fakes being hurt with a hyperbolised “ow…”

You both chuckle at each other’s jokes until it eventually dies down, you rest your head against the wall staring at Chris with your huge blood-like optics. The drug melted away all of your timidness from before, making your nature more carefree in front of Chris. He doesn’t complain though.

You were only inches away from Chris’ stature. You took in all of his features.

His flaky lips that ran dry from cotton mouth, no thanks to the drug. His stubble that rests on the sharp ridges of his cheekbones. His adam’s apple bobbing up and down every time he swallowed. As you soaked in all of his devilish features, you took in your bottom lip in between your teeth. He looked too good to be true.

“It’s rude to stare like that, doll” he coos, inching his body closer and closer to you. You were centimetres away from him. The tip of his nose nearly grazing yours.

“Chris..” you confide, you’re breathless just by sitting still. Chris’ musky, natural scent mixed with the weed drives your head spinning. He replies with a sultry “Hmm?” with a slow tilt of his head.

It was like a time bomb ticking inside of your head. Everything about Chris made you burn up, and you were ready to explode at any second.

All at once, your body moves on its own. Your head rushes forward and your lips clash into his. His body was taken aback by the sudden manoeuvre, his hands knuckled into his sheets behind him. You’re kneeling in between his legs, smothering light kisses on his now wet lips.

No sooner than later, Chris’ shock simmers down. He reciprocates your movements and the intimate moment shifts into a sloppy makeout session. Both of your heads tilting between clumsy kisses to find easier access to one another’s lips.

His slick tongue slips through your lips, prodding at your teeth to invite himself in, which you accept dearly. The warmth of the muscle twisting inside your mouth makes your breath hitch inside your throat and you whine into the soaking kiss. 

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this ever since I laid eyes on you. You’re just too cute” Chris sighs, lightly pushing your body back. Your back fully resting into the mattress. The instant motion makes you gasp. Chris reaches for one of your hands and intertwines his fingers with yours, his palm resting on your own.

“‘You okay with this, baby? We can go slower if you’d like” he purrs.

His body fully towering over yours which makes you blush and attempt to look away. His stubble tickling the tender skin on your face, the feeling of his hot breath making you shiver. You say nothing, you simply feed your bottom lip in between your teeth.

Unsure of what to say. Your clasp on Chris’ hands tightens. Telling him that you want to keep doing whatever this was. 

Chris moves his knee to rest in between your legs intentionally. He smirks into a sloppier kiss than before. Your tongues twirl and swivel together. Chris whines into your mouth at the sensation. Making the sickly stir you had in your stomach pool down to your folds. Your clit almost forms a heartbeat of its own.

He instinctively reaches up your skirt and you pant breathlessly as your lips are still connected with his. Chris lets go of your hand to adjust himself, he plops down on the mattress next to you. Hand still up your skirt.

The pads of his fingertips rest on the waistband of your panties. Before he takes any more action, he asks for your reassurance and consent. “Do you still wanna do this, doll?”

You nod briskly with a whiny “Yes” full of desperation.

Chris’ enamels sink into his bottom lip, a tent starting to form inside his jeans just at the sight of you vulnerable like this. Aching and twitching for any kind of friction.

He starts rolling his hips lazily against your thigh as he dips his fingers into your panties and sinks them into your slick heat. You let out a loud whimper from the sudden euphoria pulsing all around in between your legs.

“Fuckkkk. Wet already, baby? You jus’ couldn’t help yourself, could you” He coos, peppering a light kiss on your sweaty temple.

Chris swipes his fingertips on your clit swiftly. Your back arching and your hips bucking up, begging for more pressure on your swollen bundle of nerves. You feel Chris’ rock hard cock poking into your thigh through the denim. You hear his breath shudder with faint whimpers every time he presses into your leg, making your slippery cunt wetter and wetter by the second. 

Chris slips his middle finger inside the opening of your sloppy pussy. Your body jolts as the pleasure is like electricity zapping across your nerve endings.

“Oh my god” you sobbed. Chris groans low and tired out as he sticks his ring finger inside and curls them upwards, feeling the slight roughness of your tender g spot makes his tip leak a clear liquid through his boxers, seeping into the rough fabric of his pants.

“Chris…” you whimper helplessly, melting into his touch. “Shh… it’s okay baby, I know it feels good.”

His fingers flicking relentlessly inside your sloppy cunt makes your stomach tighten. He can’t help but take in how much you writhe under his touch.

Chris loved making you feel good. He didn’t need you to do anything to him, just seeing you drown in pleasure that he offers to you is enough to get him off. This was also quite an ego boost for him.

The mysterious weird girl, stone cold expression all day long. Keeping her distance from everyone. Her music on blast. Unable to hear the background noise that is her life that she despises so much, now a hot squirming mess just from Chris’ fingers inside her. And he fucking loved every second of it.

“I-i’m gonna cum” you cry out, the knot tangled in your stomach about to snap loose. Chris’ digits pistoning into your soppy heat with constant fervour tips you right over the edge.

“Yeah, c’mon baby. Cum for me. Cum for me like a good girl.” Before you knew it, your pussy twitched open from the release of Chris’ fingers. Spraying out a glistening liquid all over his hand and on his sheets. You let out a pained shriek at the extreme intensity of the orgasm that had just washed over you. Your limbs left shaking and your hips thud back into the soft mattress as you come back down from your high.

“Holy fucking shit… I never would’ve guessed you could squirt. Always the quiet ones, huh…”

Within an instant, you could feel Chris’ fingers push into your sensitive cunt again. Your eyes shoot open and your jaw falls slack, your mouth agape into an ‘o’ shape.

“I-I jus’ came…” you can barely enunciate words properly. The stirring of Chris’ fingers inside your pretty pink hole has you seeing the stars across the universe.

“I know baby, be a good girl f’me and cum again. I know y’got another one in you…” not long after, another orgasm creeps up from the lowest pits of your stomach shooting all the way up to the tip of your skull. Your delicious liquid makes a wet spot on Chris’ sheets once again. Your eyes rolling back whilst your hips shudder from the vigorous pleasure.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ sensitive for me baby, your pussy must feel so good right now huh.” he growls, flattering himself and you by the way you came almost instantaneously.

You peel your eyes open to view Chris sucking on his fingers, savouring your earthy taste. He whimpers with his fingers in his mouth, making a complete mess of himself with his spit smothered all over his puffy lips, before he pulls them out.

“Y’taste sooo fuckin’ good doll” he rasps out, pecking a sweet kiss on your lips. You whine into his mouth. The taste of your wetness lingering on his breath.

“I c-can’t do it anymore, I can’t cum no more…” you sigh. Tears brimming your eyes, staining the black mascara into your cheeks. Chris wipes away the wetness on your face as reassurance.

“Oh, c’mon doll… Just one more? Please, I can’t get enough of it, it’s so hot..” he pleads and begs. His words are velvety and slick, making your clit throb. 

You nibble the skin off of your lip and spread your thighs open once more. “Thanks baby, ‘ppreciate it.” He leaves another sweet kiss on the side of your face. Your bangs stuck in strings to your forehead beaded in sweat. Melting half your makeup off.

You looked like a mess. Chris enamored every little bit of it, though. He sinks his digits in, one last time. His cock ached at your teary eyes and the feeling of a pulse inside your puffy pussy. You reach to grab the fabric of Chris’ longsleeve.

“I really like you, Chris…” you murmur. Your voice is sultry but sweet, sticky like honey to Chris’ senses. “I like you too doll, I always have” he leans in once more to give you another tender kiss. This time, it was much more intimate.

Your free hand slithers through his brunette curls. His fingers crimp up inside your heat and you gasp in between kisses.

“I’m gonna cum again…!” You pull away from Chris’ face and grit your teeth. Your knuckles almost go white from clamping down onto Chris’ shirt so tight. “That’s a good girl. Cum f’me one last time…”

Before long, Chris had you cumming all over his bed and on his fingers for the third time. His sheets almost flooded in your liquid. Chris lets out a satisfied sigh as he’s proud of himself for making you cum three times in a row, that and the view he’s getting is fucking perfect.

Your mouth is like sandpaper, your bruised legs still shudders as you’re coming down from your third orgasm this evening.

“How was it, doll? Did I make you too tired?” you nod your head fervorously. Your eyes barely open with your face soaked with tears. You see Chris reach for a bottle of water in your peripherals.

“Drink up baby… you’re gonna need it” he feeds you the bottle as you sit up slightly. 

“Oh yeah, can you send me your playlist later, doll? I really enjoyed that song, as much as I enjoyed spending time with you” he brushes your sticky strands of hair out of your face and holds you in his arms, you roll into his embrace lazily. Your voice now replenished by the water Chris gave you.

“Yeah.”

*ೃ༄ a/n: oh my gosh i love this au sm i can’t wait to make a part 2 of this

I love you all sososososo much i love deer!reader soooo much

have a holly jolly christmas !

divider creds: @/cafekitsune, @/dollywons, @/fairytopea

[gofancyninjaworld]

Call Him Janus-ide, The Way He's Two-Faced

With the kind permissions of Rayadraws and theOmnicode. Bless your sharp eyes.

Genos better have a birthday in January. January, Janus's month, is typically portrayed as a two-faced man, representing the month's position as the end of an old year and the beginning of a new one. Janus is the god of thresholds, places of transition -- inside to out, holy to profane, beginnings to endings. Beyond that, this is the god of duality, seemingly opposed items that nevertheless form part of a whole.

Characters in OPM start really simple but as ONE keeps layering on them, they become more than initially meets the eye. However, when it comes to duality, Genos has to be the most dual-natured character there.

How? Well, let's count the ways.

1. What's in a name?

Let's start with the low-hanging fruit, his name. While he generally goes by Genos, his name is really Genocide. Yes, as in the systematic elimination of a group of people identified by their religion, ethnicity, or just by happening to encumber some valuable land without the benefit of sufficiently heavy weaponry. It's just about possible to pretend not to see it when it's written out on his clothing; however, when Kuseno makes Genos a virtual practice tool called The Virtual Genocide System, what kind of sick fucker does this is all one can say.

Extra credit: if you want another horrifying duality, look up 'ketsugo'.

It gets a little more interesting when we look at how his name is written in Japanese, for that's where the duality emerges. On the one hand, the kanji means 'great slaughter', so far, so unsurprising. On the other hand, it also means 'to fight fiercely to the end', and the image of undaunted resistance in the face of impossible odds is just as fitting to this character as is his surviving a massacre -- and warning of yet another to come.

2. Fire Worship

Of necessity, Genos is forged in fire. The metal that makes up much of his body must be grubbed up as ore, melted out of it, refined, alloyed, smelted, and worked to produce something useful, all of which requires fire. The parts that are plastic are drawn out of the Earth as crude oil, distilled (more fire), admixed, reacted, processed. And the parts that are ceramic, well, nothing loves fire as much as a ceramic. And yet, that's not all Genos is. He is a cyborg, which means that he is also human, someone living, fragile, and yet resilient. We see many cyborgs in One-Punch Man, but someone like Genos, who is very comfortable owning his humanity *and* having a mostly mechanical body, is rare. The cyborgs we meet tend to either hide the fact or double down on being inhuman.

Being happy being both man and machine, no matter how weird it looks to anyone.

Speaking of fire, Genos's choice of weapon is just as dual-natured as his name. In the first instance, he burns things. It's little wonder that fire used to be regarded (gotta love those Greeks) as one of the four essential elements: its ability to transform is fundamental to humanity. Its ability to transform the merely edible to the cooked literally enabled human development by freeing up more calories than are normally available in food. Fire warms; fire razes; fire drives away darkness; fire propels; fire impedes; fire cauterizes; fire burns; fire refines; fire smelts; fire consumes. Wherever you find humanity, something is burning. One hopes in a controlled way.

As Genos uses it as a weapon, it's very much the destructive aspect of fire we see him use. The Hero Association calls him Demon Cyborg because they hope he keeps turning those flames onto enemies of humanity, thankyouverymuch.

Like the fire of Hell striking the sinful and consuming them utterly, Genos showing the utter destruction that got him his hero name.

Of course, we have long since moved beyond burning dry sticks and lumps of coal to make what we call fire. Which takes us quite naturally to the third thing.

3. Core matters

Want to divide a crowd of well-educated people? Just ask them their opinion on 'nuclear energy.' Whether it's energy liberated by splitting or fusing atoms, do we like it for its ability to create an eye-watering amount of energy from incredibly little material, live in awe of its ability to destroy enemies, dread its capacity to maim and mutate with the ionizing radiation that comes as part of the package deal, or fear its eon-long tail of contamination? To say 'views differ' is to understate the heat of the debate.

There may have been a time when Genos's core was battery-powered, but since his energy demands have gone from extreme to extortionate, this baby is nuclear. With all the hazards inherent.

Heroes are just built different: instead of running away, they're like 'keep it together, man.'

So far, so obvious. However, the visual references of the core are even more interesting. Via Rayadraws, the reference of the core is the guidance system of intercontinental ballistic missiles. Entirely mechanical (and thus not able to be interfered with remotely), it ensures that the ICBM, once launched, will absolutely hit its target without fail. A very fitting device for the heart of a character hell-bent on finding and destroying his sworn enemy, whatever the cost.

Doesn't that look ominously familiar? Mutually-assured destruction.

However (I use this word a lot, don't I?), that's not the only way to see the core. When Saitama brought back Genos's core from the future and the latter plugged it in, the core is seen from a different angle, and it's another powerful symbol: a vajra (h/t Omnicode). In Buddhism, it's a ritual weapon symbolizing the properties of a diamond (indestructibility) and a thunderbolt (irresistible force).

A much more positive image: one of power, wisdom, and enlightenment. The more positive version of what he's seeking.

Probably the most interesting thing about the school of Buddhism this comes from is that it's about transmuting vices into virtues. Again, incredibly fitting.

4. So, Where is ONE going with this?

Here we have it. Nominatively, Genos names both the most hideous crime against humanity and the strength of character to resist such crime. Physically, Genos stands at the nexus of man and machine, happily occupying the liminal space between them. The power Genos has sought can be incredibly destructive to both friend and foe... and we've seen him use it to do great good. We've seen how harsh and cold he can be, but we've seen, too, that when he cares to temper his strict pursuit of justice with empathy, something wonderful comes to light.

But most of all, this is a character whose fate rests on a knife edge of apparently small decisions. No matter what, Genos is not going to be dissuaded from finding and destroying the rampaging cyborg and anyone who may have supported him. The question is: will that quest bring great destruction, or is there a way to bring something positive out of it? Either is equally possible with this guy.

We just have to wait and see.

PS: Yes, there are other dualities I could name. I'm hoping y'all come up with them. :D

[headfulloflettuce]

The Human Who Fooled All of Prythian

23. I Present Thee With This Muffin of Friendship

Note: The one in which Cosette makes some friends. Maybe. Sort of.

“Why didn’t you tell me we had literal royalty as customers in the perfumery?”

“Cosette, I didn’t know Briar was related to them. She had come in with some other white haired female and requested to see you. Every time they came you were out. They never made a big deal out of it and neither did I.” Ophelia explained, rummaging through a box, trying to find more of the goldenberry perfume.

“I put some of the new bottles on the further shelf.” Cosette pointed, keeping an eye on the pot full of boiling water and teakwood.

“Thanks.” Ophelia grabbed a few of the bottles, rushing back out into the store, where Theo had been holding down the fort.

After paying off his debts Theo looked happier, working in the perfumery with new vigor. The only thing keeping him down was the occasional comment from his father.

Cosette returned her full attention to the lidded pot, adding more ice cubes to the inverted lid, as a liquid slowly formed in the glass bowl inside the pot.

Homemade distillation was my literal savior in this world. The basic mechanism was that herbs, flowers or in this case wood, were boiled and the heat-resistant glass inside the pot caught and condensed the steam thanks to the inverted pot lid and ice. 

Cosette prepared the perfume bottles for the mahogany teakwood oil, pulling out a homemade pipette consisting of a straw and a very small bottle. 

It wasn’t ideal, but I couldn’t afford a professionally crafted one yet. 

Considering the long list of renovations Cosette wanted to make to the perfumery and her investment into the farming project, she wasn’t about to get a pipette with medical precision anytime soon. Not that it was extremely needed at the moment.

After the Winter Solstice we had sold out most of the products I had made, meaning I now have to not only make the goldenberry perfume, which many faeries weren’t able to purchase because there was an extremely limited supply, but I also have to work overtime to restock all other products.

A big flaw in the current system was the low production combined with the long time it took to make everything. Hiring additional would be helpful, if not so costly.

Cosette added another mental note to the growing list of things she would need to spend money on.

She waited for the pot to stop boiling before she carefully squeezed the bottle, taking up some of the liquid and putting it into the prepared smaller perfume vial. After completing that procedure for forty bottles she cleaned the large pot and rinsed the ‘pipette’, setting them and the rest of the equipment to dry.

I need to start thinking about the perfumes for Kallias and Viviane.

Several days had passed and Cosette had written up a list of options, but none of them felt right.

I could play with the teakwood as an undertone for Kallias, but I don’t want to come off as cheap with reusing existing ideas for a literal ruler of a court. He did mention liking the Winter Court forests, maybe a pine scented perfume is a safe bet?

No, too safe; it’s too simple and direct. Again, he’s the ruler of a literal country, his perfume is not only a representation of himself but also his lands. Although, by that logic a simple perfume could be endearing in that it signifies he’s straightforward and easy to approach.

Perhaps I could find some other herb that conveys that smell and feeling? I am sure there must be something in the market, and if not I’ll go into the forests myself to find something.

Viviane was easier as she just wanted a sweet, yet alluring flower based perfume. Boom. Why couldn’t more faes have explicit orders like her?

Cosette sighed.

I can work on this later, it’s best if I help Theo and Ophelia right now.

It was currently rush hour, and faes that were unable to get the goldenberry perfume during the Winter Solstice were showing up to try it now. 

We need all hands on deck right now, and knowing Theo's father he wasn’t about to step up.

Cosette stood up from her chair, the floor beneath her creaking.

Forget all other bullet points on the ‘to fix and purchase’ list - these floorboards are moving up to number one.

Cosette shook her head, trying to not get herself down this early in the day, instead focusing on the task at hand - restocking shelves. She quickly began working on the shelves Theo hadn’t gotten to yet as Ophelia masterfully chatted with the customers, directing and entertaining them.

Cosette returned to the backroom, grabbing a box of the perfumes she just finished making.

I am going to need to make more and I just made this batch. Perhaps this really was a sign it was time to hire people 

Cosette walked back into the shop, stopping next to the counter as she was greeted by the sounds of an argument.

“Excuse me? Who do you think you’re speaking to?”

Cosette paused in the doorway leading into the front space, staring at the scene before her.

“I-I am sorry sir, but we just don’t have that scent on our shelves.” Theo stuttered, cowering.

“Ha! And here I thought this perfumery was supposed to be this amazing establishment. Stores on the perfumery street have the scent I like.”

“Then perhaps you should shop there sir.” Ophelia intervened, stepping slightly in front of Theo, shielding him from the rude customer.

“You dare tell me, Lord Ryker, where I should spend my money?”

Ophelia smiled pleasantly, “I am simply telling you that we do not have that perfume available in our inventory.”

“And I am telling you that you’re providing a terrible service. How will you compensate me?”

A couple other faes who were in the store exchanged glances, staring at the scene before them. They and Cosette wore similar expressions of shock at the male’s audacity. 

“Sir-”

“It’s Lord Ryker to you Autumn shit.”

Cosette saw red, but before she could intervene Ophelia’s voice rang out loud and clear.

“I am afraid we cannot compensate you.”

“Oh and why’s that?”

“Because you haven’t experienced a loss due to our actions.”

“Really, shouldn’t you be treating your customers better?” the fae glanced around, as if trying to get the bystanders' support. 

Other customers quickly looked anywhere but him.

“Well due to your negligence my time and emotional stability has been wasted.”

“And you have wasted my patience, how will you compensate me for it?”

“You-”

“If you continue to cause a disturbance I will call in the royal guards patrolling the streets.”

“This is unfair! I demand to see your boss!”

“My boss has given me and Theo permission to kick out any disruptive customers, or to refuse service as we see fit. Also, with all due respect, I do not feel comfortable letting you near her at the moment.”

“And why’s that?” the male smirked.

“You’re unpleasant and have unclear intentions.” Ophelia began walking towards the front door.

“W-Wait, where are you going?”

“To get the royal guards as promised.”

The fae hesitated, put off by Ophelia’s confidence.

“Ugh.” the male shoved her, rushing out the door.

Cosette approached Ophelia who gave Theo a pat on the back and an encouraging word with which he scampered off to continue tidying around the shop.

“You are amazing.” Cosette smiled.

No wonder the Lady of Autumn kept you close.

“I am lucky to have you here.”

“My, you’re making me blush.” Ophelia giggled, shaking her head, “But seriously, it’s just experience. Years of dealing with snobby rich people hardens your skin, and even then, I still mess up. I am sure you very well remember our attempt to enter Winter Court.”

“Well, that’s not fair. You snapped after we had been hiking for literal days and you had just…left a very unfortunate situation.”

Cosette didn’t want to risk talking about Autumn’s prison with random faes around.

“I guess so.” Ophelia shrugged, tension leaving her body a bit as Cosette squeezed her hand, “I am going to get back to work.”

Cosette nodded, letting Ophelia return to her duties. She was about to pick up the box of perfumes she had set down when a familiar voice distracted her.

“That was quite the performance.”

“Sir Amelio.” Cosette looked at the male who approached her, a beautiful, tall, dark skinned fae by his side. 

She smelled of citrus, oddly familiar to the bergamot-styles perfume Amelio had purchased from me.

“We meet again.” he smiled brightly.

I still don’t understand how this man was a Winter fae. His extroverted nature was everything but it. Him and Blanche stuck out like sore thumbs in this cold landscape.

Now that I think about it, no wonder Aquilo recommended Forrest’s inn, they were very welcoming regardless of your place of origin.

Cosette didn't think too hard about how accepting Forrest or Blanche would be to humans.

It wouldn't lead to any good thoughts.

“Cosette, please meet my wife, Solene.”

Well the scent she wore made sense now.

“So you’re Cosette.” the fae’s voice was cold, despite her warm appearance, “I must thank you for the perfume you made me. It’s exquisite.”

Cosette could immediately tell, this woman was of High Fae blood. The aura surrounding Solene made her shiver. 

“You’re too kind Lady Solene.”

Yet Amelio wasn’t High Fae, not by his lacking aura compared to his wife. However, he had no visible markers and I’d argue held a position of some power and wealth. What gives??

Solene’s face remained stoic as stone.

Amelio…what is your type?

“How was your Winter Solstice sir Amelio?” Cosette continued the conversation.

“It was good and please drop the ‘sir’. What about you Miss Cosette? I heard you managed to get a table at the fair? Quite the accomplishment if I do say so myself.”

“If I don’t call you ‘sir’, you drop the ‘miss’.” Cosette corrected, “Yes we did, all thanks to Ophelia’s quick thinking. The fair was quite hectic but a lot of fun.

He chuckled, “I am happy to hear that. Hectic in that sort of environment usually means profitable. The last thing you would want is a table no one visited.”

“That’s true.” Cosette agreed, eyeing the two faes before her, “So, can I help you two with anything today?”

“Oh no, we were just taking a walk in the neighborhood and decided to stop by. Solene here has been curious about the perfumer who made her new favorite scent so I wanted to introduce you two.”

Solene, in Cosette’s opinion, looked bored out of her mind.

“As I said before, it's a very good perfume.” The female fae reiterated 

Cosette wasn't sure but it seemed the woman was almost annoyed by her husband’s excitement.

“One of my favorites.”

“May I ask what your other favorites are?”

“I love ‘iridescent glow’ from Day Court, ‘sea foam’ from Summer and ‘Primrose’ from Spring.” Solene’s dark blue eyes met Cosette’s green ones, “I am proud however, that I can now wear my home court’s perfumes with no shame.”

Cosette nodded, taking note of the perfume names for later.

Always good to be aware of your competitors.

Remembering that they've just been standing in front of the store’s counter Cosette asked, “Would you prefer to go up to my office to continue talking?”

“That would be lovely.” Amelio said.

Cosette quickly put the box of perfumes onto a chair behind the counter, leaving it for Theo.

“Would you like tea?” Cosette set the kettle once they were in her office, giving them the small box of flavors they could choose from.

“That would be lovely.” Solene selected a peach flavored black tea, while Amelio picked out an herbal tea bag.

Cosette poured them all some tea, and sat down across from them, sipping the same blend as Soelene.

Solene is a fae Calypso would be proud of. She had the perfect posture and held her tea cup with grace.

The whole scene made Cosette straighten her back and at least try to sit more elegantly.

No matter how much Ophelia makes me walk in heels I still come off looking like an uneducated peasant compared to these people. It was honestly sad.

Amelio on the other hand didn't bother, sipping his tea casually, leaning back in his chair, and although didn't do anything that would inherently destroy the sense of propriety, certainly wasn't behaving in the most well mannered way.

“I heard that Viviane and Kallias visited you.” Amelio spoke first.

“Yes they did.” Cosette suppressed afrown.

Amelio smiled, “Do you know why?”

Cosette shrugged, “They said they were curious. I believe them, and how did you know they came to visit?”

“The High Lord and Lady like to support the people of their court, especially talented entrepreneurs.” Amelio explained, “Gossip spreads fast, especially if it has to do with the nobility.”

“And here I thought you winter faeries were more tight lipped.” Cosette set down her tea cup.

“Not really, but we do like to act like we’re above such meaningless discussions”. He chucked

“It’s merely harder to tell what we actually think at times.” Solene’s smile was so cold it could make a child cry, “But in reality all of us faeries share one thing in common regardless of our court - a thirst for drama.”

Yeah that checks out considering the way politics were conducted in the books.

Cosette looked at Amelio.

He held her gaze.

“Are you one of the entrepreneurs that they support?”

Now that Cosette thought about it, she didn’t know anything about the politics of Winter Court.

Most of the story took place in either Spring or Night Court. With Autumn, Summer and Day Courts getting notable mentions that gave her an extremely surface level understanding of what they were like. Her mind came up blank for Winter besides the twenty four children that Amarantha killed using an unnamed daemati.

Solene giggled.

Amelio’s smile widened, “We have good relations, yes.”

Cosette tensed.

Did he have other reasons for approaching me then?

“So the real reason you’re visiting me is…?”

“Because I want to grow closer to a fellow business fae.” he answered simply, “I mean, with all the ruckus that you’ve drawn, it’s hard not to be curious.”

Cosette wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse that faes were taking notice of her and the perfumery. On one hand it meant more business, on the other it brought them closer to discovering the truth and ending her journey before it even began.

“I see.” Cosette was trying to find a clue that he was lying.

Guess getting to know established businessmen in the area isn’t a bad idea.

“It seems like I have more to gain from working with you than the other way around.”

“And why do you say that?” Amelio tilted his head.

“I have little experience with business management and a minimal understanding of the inner workings of the Winter Court.”

Investing in me is a huge risk from a logical perspective.

He hummed, finishing his tea and putting down the empty cup, “I respect your honest assessment of the situation, but I can decide for myself if a business relationship is worth pursuing.”

“So I haven’t changed your mind?”

“Your attempt was cute, but no.”

Solene’s eyes tracked Cosette’s movement as the human tried to stay still.

Well, if he’s going to offer up his partnership, it wouldn’t hurt to use it.

“Say, Amelio, I need some advice.” Cosette set her tea cup down.

“Oh?” His eyes sparkled, “I am listening.”

“I have a project I am working on, but I need space to conduct it. Do you know of any buildings that are available for rent?”

“How big of a space do you need?”

“I require a room large enough to house the production and storage of a farming tool about this big.” Cosette gestured with her hands to show an estimated size.

“I can think of a spot.” Amelio nodded, “I have a building where I receive shipments from farms that I own or collaborate with, as well as other products that my group imports or exports. I happen to have a few spare rooms available for rent if you’re interested.”

“Is it far from here?”

“It's a thirty minute walk as it’s closer to the capital’s gates.”

That would be quite the commute for Theo and his father, but it was the perfect location.

“Can I see the rooms?”

“Of course!” Amelio said, standing up, offering his arm to his wife as he did.

Solene stood up as well, linking her arm with his.

Cosette grabbed the cloak she was gifted, walking after them out of the perfumery.

“Ophelia, I have some things I need to attend to, will you and Theo be alright here by yourselves?”

“Yeah of course.” Ophelia gave her a thumbs up, “When will you be back?”

“I’ll be back within two hours.”

“Better be back before we go get lunch.” Ophelia gave her a playful nudge, returning back to her work.

I really envy faes.

Cosette hated that thought as it repeatedly poked its way to the forefront of her mind. She walked with Amelio and Solene down the street, the two dressed in an elegant suit and dress, with light fur coats draped casually over their shoulders.

“You’re not from around here.” Solene stated.

“No I am not.”

I wonder what gave it away, the giant warm cloak perhaps?

“Where are you from?” Amelio prodded.

“I am from the faerie lands. I grew up in a village in one of the central forests.” Cosette lied.

“Ah, no wonder you’re freezing then.” Amelio nodded, “How are you adjusting to our cold climate here?”

“As well as you can see.” Cosette said.

Amelio laughed, “You’re doing better than most. I once saw a Summer Court emissary almost die from hypothermia because he fell through some snow near one of our farms and couldn’t climb out.”

“Was he okay?”

“Yeah, he was found by some farmers and they rescued him.” Amelio said.

“That’s good to hear.”

Amelio positioned himself between the road where carriages and carts drove and Solene.

Did they have the ‘sidewalk rule’ in Prythian too?

Solene glanced at Cosette expectantly. Cosette tilted her head unsure what she wanted from her.

Solene’s expression remained unchanged as she gestured Cosette over to stand by her side.

Oh.

Cosette joined Solene away from the curb.

“Have you had a chance to explore the capital?” Amelio picked up the conversation again.

“Oh, yes I have. The innkeeper of Forrest’s inn gave me and Ophelia a tour of the city when we first arrived.”

“Ah, Forrest’s inn, nice folk there.”

“You know them?”

“They used to source their food from me for their cooking.”

Cosette felt daring so she decided to ask, “Do they now purchase from a person who doesn’t support the current rulers?”

“Haha, no.” Amelio’s eyes were full of mirth, “No they just moved to another local farmer who supports Kallias. I believe he’s a relative of Forrest.”

Keeping it in the family made sense.

The group stepped out onto a busy street full of carts and faeries who were transporting goods into and from buildings. They passed by buildings that were built from white oak, but were so clean and polished that they looked like they were made more out of ice rather than wood.

It seemed to be emulating the style of the royal palace that looked like it was made from ice and crystals. 

Deciding to tempt fate again Cosette asked, “The style of architecture is similar to that of the royal palace. Is that meant to be an indicator of political support or was this just a popular aesthetic?”

Amelio laughed, “You are a clever one, aren’t you?”

Cosette couldn’t help the small blush on her face.

It felt nice to be complemented, okay?

“To answer your question however, yes and no. The style itself is popular within the court. I mean, it is the Winter Court, after all. It would be stranger if people didn’t obsess over glaciers and icicles. However, this type of architecture was popularized with Kallias’s predecessors, so the association is certainly present.”

Amelio led them into one of the large wooden buildings. Inside there was a front area with a secretary behind a small desk, and several hallways leading off into different rooms, as well as a large staircase.

The secretary looked up, “Lord Amelio, welcome back.”

Wait, Lord?! Was I addressing him casually this whole time?

“I am not here for long, just going to go check on the empty rooms we have on the third floor.”

“Of course, Lord Amelio. Oh, by the way, your men told me to let you know that the recent shipment of crops was received.” she handed him a stack of papers, “This is the whole inventory. We’ve already processed it.”

“Perfect.” Amelio took the papers, leading Cosette and Solene upstairs.

The interior looked wellkept, a stair or two creaking as they ascended.

“There it is.” Amelio pushed open a door on the third floor, some crates standing in the corner near the window of the landing.

The door revealed a long room with large windows, tables and shelves. It smelled of dust and wood. Cosette ran a finger along the table, the surface rough with small dents in it.

“So, is it to your liking?” Amelio smirked.

This is actually exactly what I had in mind.

“Yes, it is.” Cosette said calmly, trying to not show her excitement.

Amelio hummed, opening the door at the end of the large room, “This connected room is a package deal with this one. I also have this third room,” Amelio walked back out into the hallway and showed them the room across, “You could use this as additional work space or for storage.”

“How much is the rent? 

“30 gold per month if you’re just taking the large room, and 40 if you’re taking this one as well.”

That was a lot of money, but at the moment our sales were decent enough to be able to afford it. Though, that meant it would take a while before I could hire additional help. Custom orders, especially the ones from Kallias and Viviane, will bring in big revenue, but I will also need to get started on working on a perfume or product that’s accessible to the public.

“By the way, do you have workers for the project?” Amelio inquired,

Ahhh, if I decide to hire additional woodworkers I’ll also need to pay them!

“Yes, I have two.”

“I can recommend some of my men if you would like additional experienced workers.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I don’t want to impose.” Cosette answered carefully.

I want to retain power over this project. Handing off more and more to Amelio seemed like a bad idea.

Amelio nodded, his smile not wavering, “Very well. Would you like some recommendations?”

Cosette looked at him hesitantly.

“Free of charge.”

So you just want to help me out of your goodwill?

As if reading her mind he clarified, “I want you to like me Miss Cosette. It would be nice if you permitted me to endear myself to you.”

I thought we agreed to drop the formalities?

“I appreciate your honesty.” she paraphrased his words back at him, “But I think it best if I start learning about Winter Court’s economy and work sources in further detail myself.”

Amelio wore a happy expression despite the rejection. In fact, he almost looked happier at the news.

“Then you have my full support. When would you like to start using the space?”

“Could I have a couple weeks? I want to show the space to the people I wish to hire first.”

“Of course. Just let me know when you wish to use it.” Amelio winked, “If you take too long I might give it away to someone else.”

“I’ll be timely, don’t worry.”

“How much further do we have to walk?” The elder groaned.

“Not far.” Cosette sighed.

This man was grating my nerves.

Theo meanwhile chewed quietly on his sandwich.

Cosette had decided to take the two men to see the building the next day during the perfumery’s downtime, giving Ophelia permission to close down early so that it wasn’t too overwhelming to manage the place by herself.

The only downside of this building was the distance we had to walk to get to it. I am going to have to allocate some funds to pay for carriage rides back and forth.

“Can we get a hint at least for what this surprise is?” Theo asked.

“It has something to do with your gift for the Winter Solstice.” Cosette said.

“Right, the supposed gift that we never got.” the elder grumbled.

“You’ll get to have it soon.” Cosette tried to keep the irritation out of her voice.

They eventually got to the building, the street it was located on was full of carts filled with various manufactured goods, heading to the gates or being unloaded. There were also some wagons with food, wrapped up and stored properly in boxes.

“The Forge District!” Theo perked up, glancing around with interest.

“Forge District?”

“Some of the greatest smiths and creators in Winter Court work here!” Theo couldn’t contain his excitement, barely sticking to the group as he kept trying to get a peak at the carts and the stuff inside them.

I didn’t realize this place was that big of a deal.

Cosette could admit it looked better than the supposed industrial section of the capital they visited. With proper guards and actual commercial activity the street looked alive rather than creepy or abandoned. Although, they had visited the supposed ‘industrial district’ on a day when all the faes stayed home, so Cosette tried to reserve her judgments.

Why didn’t Amelio flaunt the area’s worth though? Wouldn’t it have helped his case in convincing me to rent it?

Stepping inside the building, Cosette approached the front desk. The secretary looked up.

“Lord Amelio warned me you’d be coming in today.”

“I am just here to show my partners the room.”

“Take your time.” the secretary pushed forward a key, returning to her work.

Cosette took the key, leading the group upstairs to the third floor.

“Lord Amelio? You know him?” Theo stared at Cosette with wide eyes.

Even the elder had perked up, his eyes gleaming with interest.

“He ordered a custom perfume from me and came to give his thanks. We got to talking and he offered me a room to rent.” Cosette explained.

“Woah.” Theo whispered.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Well, Lord Amelio is a very well-known business fae due to the farms he runs and his port trading businesses. He is also credited with helping to keep the economy together during Kallias’s absence, along with a couple other important business figures.” Theo continued, “Though, I mostly admire him because he is a Lesser Fae, yet he commands respect amongst the nobility. How many can claim to be able to do that?!”

Cosette hummed, processing this information. 

So my gut was right, he’s not High Fae. How did he get this far then? 

“Please, the man just married lucky.” the elder kept his voice low as he gossiped, “That wife of his is from a prestigious family. No one will say a word because of her.”

Now Cosette didn’t know what to think.

Was it really just Solene pulling all the strings?

“And why do you need to rent a room?” the elder raised an eyebrow at Cosette.

“I promised you two a gift for the Winter Solstice. I have been working on a side project that will involve a lot of woodworking.” Cosette opened the door, stepping aside so they could see inside, “My gift to you is this project. Working on carving wood rather than perfumery.”

“What is the project?” Theo murmured, walking between the long tables, staring at the workshop in wonder.

“It’s a farming tool that will, in theory, help increase the current harvest.” Cosette explained, “Here is my design for it.”

She showed Theo and the elder her diagrams and sketches of the spirit ‘house’.

“It has a lot of details, and I’ve seen your old works when we were clearing out the perfumery. They’re beautiful. So is the cart you created and the gift you gave Blanche and Forrest. You’re very attentive and are amazing artisans that I would be lucky to have on my team.”

“You know, most faes get each other money or something else if they can't come up with a gift.” 

I am sorry, I thought this was a good gift!

“This is perfect!” Theo’s eyes lit up as he stared at the room as if it were a treasury, “The location is great too!”

“How is the location great?” the elder drawled, “Buildings full of construction projects and ruckus.”

“I’ve been searching for a space that we could move into.” Theo said, turning to his father, “This is one of the neighborhoods I was considering because it’s cheap.”

“Wait, move out?!” the elder exclaimed, staring at his son, “But why?”

“Well, Cosette owns the building, and she and Ophelia still live at an inn. It’s only fair ”

Was…was this a moral compass? From a fae?

Cosette couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wasn’t looking forward to the eventual discussion of asking them to kindly find a different house to live in, or finding a room for herself and Ophelia elsewhere.

Thank you Theo for bringing this up yourself!

“She let us stay there.” the elder grumbled.

“Yes, because Cosette is kind.” Theo frowned at his father, “She let us keep our home despite the fact that she owns it, she helped us pay off our debt, and now she is offering us a job within our field of interest!”

“It’s not what we used to do before.”

“Well, it’s not exactly what we used to do but it’s a starting point.” Theo argued, “We have to restart somewhere, and this seems like a good place.”

The elder grumbled, but Cosette easily ignored him. She felt so proud of the man before her for standing up to his father.

“So,” Theo grinned at Cosette, “When do we start?”

“As soon as possible. I’ll contact Amelio and finalize the payment.”

“I-We look forward to working with you.”

“You really don’t have to move out.” Blanche watched Ophelia and Cosette pack up.

“Blanche we’ve imposed long enough.” Cosette set her bag on the bed, finishing putting clothes away.

“You’re not imposing though…” Blanche grumbled.

“We can’t live in an inn forever.” Ophelia stood up, finishing wrapping her clothes as well, “Besides we’ll visit.”

“You better.” Blanche pulled them into a hug, “Me and Forrest will miss you two.”

“We’re moving just a couple blocks away!” Cosette hugged back.

“Still, I expect you to come here several times a week for dinner.” Blanche ruffled both of their heads, gently messing up their hair.

“We will, don’t worry.” Cosette soothed.

“Yeah! You also better come over to play with me!” Fermin peaked around his mother’s skirts, glaring at Cosette and Ophelia.

“How could we miss out on play time with you?” Ophelia squished Fermin into a hug.

“Ack, on second thought, leave! And take your hugs with you!” Fermin managed to break free from Ophelia’s hold, running away.

Ophelia laughed, teasing the child as Forrest picked up their bags.

“I can carry them.” Cosette insisted.

He shook his head, “I’ll help you take them to the perfumery.”

“Look at my perfect husband.” Blanche kissed Forrest on the cheek, her eyes looking into his with a flirty spark.

Forrest returned the kiss, his expression soft.

The group went downstairs, Blanche putting another bag into Forrest’s arms.

“Here, take some dinner with you.”

“Aw, Blanche. Thank you.” Ophelia hugged the fae again.

Blanche hugged back, holding the younger fae gently. She reluctantly let go as Ophelia took Cosette’s hand and they left the inn with Forrest following behind.

Approaching the perfumery they could see Theo and his father leaving with their own bags. Few words were exchanged as they had to get to their new home and check that all the furniture they requested was moved appropriately.

“Thank you again Forrest.” Cosette said, taking the bags from the burly man.

Forrest nodded, “No problem, don’t forget to lock up for the night.”

“We won’t!” Ophelia and Cosette waved him goodbye as he began the walk back to his inn.

Cosette took a deep breath, smiling as she looked at the perfumery in a new light. The place had always had a cozy charm to it, but now, as the two women stood staring at the tables decorated with perfumes and the clean shelves, it felt different.

“Can’t believe we actually have a home now.”

“I know.” Cosette didn’t like the feeling that settled in her stomach - guilt.

I am not replacing my true home.

Cosette steeled herself.

I am looking for a way back-No, I will find a way back. It just might take some time. This wasn’t a replacement. It was temporary.

Cosette took the bags, carrying them upstairs, followed by Ophelia.

“By the Cauldron, your walk is practically flawless.” Ophelia complimented observing Cosette as she walked up the stairs to the mezzanine.

“I would be disappointed if it weren’t after hiking through the woods in heels.” Cosette answered dryly, “Though I don’t think I compare to the fae quite yet.”

“What are you talking about?! It’s a good walk! My training methods are elite and should not be questioned.” Ophelia giggled, catching up with her friend.

“Yeah, yeah.” Cosette rolled her eyes, “You’re amazing Ophelia. You don’t need to fish for compliments.”

“I am not fishing!” the fae insisted.

Cosette turned back to her Ophelia, her dress spinning elegantly as she maintained her posture, “Just tell me and I’ll shower you in them regardless.”

A beat passed as Ophelia stared at her, before shaking her head and smiling again, “You’re a silly human.”

“And you’re a silly fae.”

Ophelia sighed, her eyes full of pride seeing Cosette’s graceful movements, “My little baby is growing up so fast.”

“Not a baby.” Cosette scowled.

“You are a baby though. You were like twenty one last time I checked!”

“I am twenty three now for your information.” Cosette muttered, Ophelia pinching her cheek playfully, opening the door to her bedroom.

They had agreed Ophelia would take Theo’s room and Cosette the elder’s.

“I am going to go unpack and then warm up the food.”

Cosette nodded, “I’ll join you once I finish up.”

“Sounds good.” Ophelia twirled away dramatically, closing the door behind her.

Cosette could hear happy gasps as the fae explored and settled in. She could only imagine how Ophelia felt having her own room having lived in a prison cell for such a long time.

Cosette walked into her own room, immediately pinching her nose.

That sweet smell again.

She opened the window to air out the bedroom, trying to find the source. Apart from a couple soaps, similar to the ones the elder used to have downstairs, she found nothing.

Sighing, Cosette wiped down the bookshelves and closet, hanging up her clothes. She changed the bedding and mopped down the floors, closing the window soon after as it began getting cold. 

The sweet smell was almost gone which allowed Cosette to relax. Deciding she had done enough for the evening she headed downstairs into their back room to set up dinner, Ophelia joining her soon after.

“Hey, did you get settled in?” Cosette warmed up the meat and rice on the small stove they had.

“Yes, the room is wonderful. There’s a window and the bed is so warm. And the closet Cosette, oh the closet! I am going to fill it with so many dresses.” Ophelia rambled, helping to set the plates, “What about you? How’s your room?”

“It’s nice.”

I am happy she’s happy.

Cosette twisted and turned.

Go to sleep dammit.

She had already gone through all the comfortable positions she could think of, leaving her frustrated and staring up at the ceiling. Cosette was tempted to get up and work but it was around two am in the morning, and if she did that she’d be running on no sleep when the perfumery opened.

Cosette scowled, fluffing up her pillow and snuggling into it 

Is Ophelia sleeping already?

Deciding she had nothing better to do, Cosette got up, still wrapped up in her blanket, and walked several steps to the second door in the mezzanine, dragging her pillow. She knocked.

“Cosette?” a muffled voice sounded.

Cosette carefully opened the door, peeking inside, “Hey, it’s me.”

The room wasn’t anything amazing. From Ophelia’s compliments one could have thought she had the master bedroom in a manor.

Any room would be impressive compared to a cell.

Ophelia was sitting upright in the bed, her hair a mess.

“Can’t sleep either?”

“No.”

Ophelia sighed, collapsing back into her bed, letting out an annoyed groan, “Seriously, it shouldn’t be this hard.”

Cosette climbed into bed, relaxing with Ophelia’s familiar presence next to her. Ophelia pulled the human closer, snuggling. Cosette gently ran her fingers through the fae’s hair.

“It really shouldn’t be.”

Ophelia hummed in agreement, gazing softly at Cosette, closing her eyes as her friend brushed her hair.

“Ophelia, I have a question about Lesser Fae: how do you know if someone is one, versus a High Fae? I know that Lesser Fae usually have markers that separate them from the more human-like High Fae, but is there any other way? I mean, you and Theo don’t exactly have features that make you look non-human.” Cosette asked, voicing her growing confusion over the past several days.

Ophelia flinched.

“Ophelia?”

“Sorry.” Ophelia pulled away, her eyes a dull brown.

“Did I say something?” Cosette sat up slightly.

“No. No, you didn’t say anything.” Ophelia rubbed the space between her eyes, “I just forget how little you know at times.”

Cosette waited patiently for Ophelia to continue.

“Usually you can tell by the aura and power a fae exudes how high up the food ladder they are. As for physical markers,” Ophelia inhaled sharply, “It’s not always an obvious visual marker. We don't walk around naked you know? Some might hide their Lesser Fae traits if possible, like tails or wings.”

“But why hide them?”

“If you’re in a big city like the capital, where there are many nobles and High Fae, it benefits to fit in. Besides, High Fae are seen as the epitome of beauty and perfection.” Ophelia’s voice turned bitter, “Many will try anything to achieve the same visual standard.”

“Oh.” Cosette whispered.

“The rank of Lesser Fae is technically a spectrum, ranging from fae who might be of mixed blood to those who have never left the forest.” Ophelia moved back closer to Cosette.

“Thank you for explaining.”

“It’s nothing.” Ophelia closed her eyes.

Cosette gazed at the fae next to her, conflicted on what to say.

I clearly hurt her somehow.

“Ophelia-”

“Shh, time for sleep.” Ophelia pulled Cosette into a hug.

Cosette closed her eyes.

Less prying, more hugs. Got it.

Cosette got up quietly, not wanting to disturb Ophelia early in the morning. They had a couple hours before the shop would need to be opened so Cosete decided to get an early start to her day.

Not like I was sleeping anyways.

She had managed to fall asleep initially but a feeling of restlessness woke her up. Cosette was currently blaming that stupid restlessness for her having to change in very cold temperatures.

Getting dressed and going downstairs she lit the fireplace and wrapped herself up in a throw blanket.

Why was it always freezing?

Cosette knew the obvious answer, but still chose to be huffy about it. She grabbed a box of some cinnamon perfume and took it out to the front, beginning to put them on their shelves.

Since I have no idea where to start for Kallias’s perfume, let’s consider Viviane’s. She said she wanted a flower based scent, so I have to find out either her favorite flower or a scent that is neutral enough that she could wear it on a daily basis. However, it also needed to be sweet and alluring.

Perhaps roses? They were traditional and sweet. They’re also romantic! Alternatively, I could lean into the fact that she is a Lady of a Court, meaning her scent needs to represent her as a political figure. What are popular Winter Court flowers? I’ll have to go to the market to investigate.

As for Briar…

Cosette rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

Yeah I have no idea about Briar. Maybe something sweet and innocent? She seems quite energetic so perhaps something with an undertone of spice?

Turning around Cosette let out a small yelp of surprise.

Briar was pressed up against the glass of the perfumery. She waved.

Cosette hesitantly waved back.

Aquilo poked his head into view, waving as well.

Please don’t tell me the royal family has decided to visit again. I can’t handle that right now - I’m cold and sleep-deprived!

Cosette opened the front door for them.

“Hi!

“Hello.” Cosette didn’t see Viviane and Kallias behind them.

A good sign.

“Please, come in.” Cosette stepped aside, letting them into the perfumery, locking the door afterwards.

I don’t need people thinking we’re open at seven in the morning.

“Good morning.” Cosette said.

“Good morning! We came to visit!” Briar beamed.

“I can see that.” Cosette was hoping her lack of sleep wasn’t horribly obvious, “Is there a particular purpose to this visit, or…?”

“Oh, well I know I requested you make my perfume by getting to know me, but I thought having you show up to the palace for our first meeting might be too intimidating so we decided to visit you here!” Briar explained.

Cosette blinked, the tiredness making it hard to get the details of Briar’s ramble.

“I appreciate your concern.” Cosette said, gesturing to them to follow her upstairs, “I do apologize for not reaching out or visiting you yet. I have been busy finding a spot for the farming project, and getting everything set up for it.”

“Oh that’s okay, how’s the project coming along? Did you find where you want to produce the farming equipment?” Briar skipped after Cosette to her office upstairs.

Briar, give me your morning energy.

“It’s going well. I found a spot for the production of it thanks to Amelio.”

“Amelio?” Aquilo asked “You know him?”

“Well we met briefly when he ordered a custom perfume from me. He visited recently, which was when I found out that he had extra rooms in a warehouse of his. He happily offered to rent me the place for a fair price.”

“Do you always wake up early to prepare the shop for the day?” Aquilo sat down on one of the chairs after Briar had taken her seat.

“No, I just couldn’t sleep.” Cosette admitted.

“If you’re having trouble sleeping I can recommend this herbal tea, I believe it’s a blend of chamomile and passionflower tea. They sell it at most well respected shops. My soldiers say it works like a charm.”

“I’ll look into it, thank you.” Cosette nodded, setting a teapot to boil, “What kind of tea do you two want?”

“Something sweet.” Briar said.

“I’ll skip the tea.” Aquilo gestured to his cup of what Cossette assumed to be coffee.

“So you walked all the way here from your home?” Briar asked

“Well actually we live here now.”

“We?” Briar clarified.

“Me and Ophelia. Theo and his father moved out, so we moved in.” Cosette noticed how Aquilo stiffened for a second before relaxing again.

“Where did you live before this?” Aquilo sipped his coffee

“We stayed at Forrest’s inn.” Cosette brewed the tea.

“An inn? Isn’t that expensive?”

“We got a discount.” Cosette smiled, setting two tea cups on the table.

Briar perked up as if she remembered something and pulled out a beautiful box labeled ‘Frosted Bakery’. She opened it to reveal various pastries: cranberry scones dusted with powdered sugar, cinnamon muffins and gooseberry danishes. The box was practically overflowing with the quantity and diversity of sweets.

“What’s this?” Cosette’s mouth watered at the spread, her stomach growling.

Briar smiled, “I thought since I am visiting you this early we should have breakfast together so we stopped by one of our favorite bakeries.”

Uh-huh.

“I appreciate it.” Cosette took her seat.

On second thought, if you’re going to feed us for free please come more often.

“Here, try the muffin!”

Cosette obediently tasted the cinnamon muffin, the mixture of the spice and sweetness coating her mouth.

Oh my god my tastebuds.

“This is so good.” Cosette chewed.

“Right?!” Briar bit into a muffin as well, pushing a scone towards Aquilo who gave an appreciative nod.

“I love their peppermint-chocolate chip cookies and danishes, but the muffins will always have a special place in my heart.”

“Any particular reason?” Cosette took a sip of her tea.

“It was one of the first sweets I tried when I came to Winter Court.”

“I see.” Cosette watched Briar as she devoured her treat.

I am going to need to look into the Children of the Blessed. Perhaps knowing more about the group within the actual world of Prythian rather than as some group that showed up a couple times within a romantasy novel will give me insight into Briar’s behavior.

There was a knock on the office door and Ophelia peaked in.

“Good morning.” the fae blinked sleepily.

“Good morning.” Cosette greeted her, “How did you sleep?”

“Well.” she shivered, walking over to the desk and grabbing a blanket from one of the shelves that lined the walls. Ophelia did not ask any questions regarding the two guests, merely casting them a calm glance.

“We’re having breakfast, feel free to take anything.” Briar offered, pushing the box of treats towards the faerie.

“Thank you.” Ophelia set aside a scone and a glazed brioche bun for herself, going to make herself some tea.

“Would either of you like a blanket?” Cosette asked, feeling guilty she didn’t offer immediately.

Aquilo shook his head but Briar happily took one.

Cosette finished her tea and muffin, watching Briar chug the remainder of her tea.

“I was wondering, would it be possible to see how you make perfumes?” Briar asked, “Or at least the equipment you use?”

“Oh? Want to steal my company secrets?” Cosette joked.

“I-No! Never!” Briar looked insulted

“Relax, I am kidding.” Cosette smiled, “I would be happy to show you.”

Briar glanced at Aquilo for approval, who nodded, taking another gulp of his coffee.

Cosette got up, letting Ophelia have her seat, and led Briar downstairs.

In the back room Cosette carefully pulled out vials and pots, setting them up to begin working after her guests would eventually leave.

Briar’s eyes sparkled, “Is this what you use to make the perfumes?”

“Yes, we use this to extract oils from things like wood or flower petals.” Cosette explained, holding out a glass vial for Briar to look at closely.

Briar carefully took the glass, examining it, following Cosette, observing her every action.

“We use these larger bowls to collect condensation and oils.” Cosette decided to entertain Briar, “Over here I mix various scents together to create more complex perfumes. I use this,” Cosette showed the pipette, “To collect smaller or larger quantities of oils to produce the desired, nuanced scent.”

“Woah.” Briar in awe whispered.

It was honestly a bit funny how easy it was to impress a human in this world. Back home people knew what a pipette was, and had maybe even worked with one if their school was well-funded. It just went to show how behind the humans were within Prythian.

“Show me more!” Briar leaned over Cosette’s shoulder.

“My pleasure.”

Next: Chapter 24 - Pointy Stick of Doom

Back: Chapter 22 - A Very Polite Non-political Conversation

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[frodothefair]

Aveda Botanical Repair: From Straw to Silk, Salvation for My Tresses

by Nisilë of Rivendell

(Images from aveda.com. Upper right picture is my real hair from a few years ago) (the premise)

Mae govannen, my beautiful friends!

You will be glad to know that I have settled marvelously well into my new life in Minas Tirith with my husband, a guard of the royal citadel. The city holds many wonders, of which I promise to write in another missive, but today, I wish to tell you about a treasure I have discovered in one of the city's many apothecaries that cater to those who seek beauty -- mostly women, but also a few men.

It is a truth rarely acknowledged that even elves, despite their immortality, are sometimes plagued by dry, lifeless locks. Our bodies are not immune from wear -- no, not at all!

Alas, over the course of my many travails and by dint of my grief, the ends of my hair have grown dry and brittle as straw, and when this happens, there is often naught to do but cut it. I was about to do as much with great pain, but then, I came upon a shop called Aveda, where botanical extracts from faraway lands are distilled into treatments for hair-ailments of every kind.

I purchased a sample of hair masque (only to be left on for five minutes, unlike many other masques!) and a leave-in conditioner, and I must say...

Eru above, never before had my locks gone so quickly from straw fit for feeding horses, to thread of the finest silk. I had nearly despaired, but here -- here was my salvation. I could barely believe my senses. Here were my tresses, restored to their former softness, their former life. Every other herb and oil I had tried only left them heavy and brittle, or gave them a coating of false sheen that only choked out the life of the strands below. But not so with this miraculous potion.

I even shared a little with my husband: for his long, Gondorean hair which has a thicker texture, and he was delighted to report that for once in his life, he had not a single flyaway.

As such, I recommend Aveda without hesitation, without the slightest reserve. I do not often say this, but if you happen by Lamplighter's street in the city of Minas Tirith, look for the small triangular sign, and who knows, perhaps your locks will also find their salvation.

Eternally yours,

Nisilë

[chazakiel-doremi]

Far Off Unhappy Things 1: Hyacinth By Renko Doremi Rodenburg

“What even is a fox?” Reinhild asked Hyacinth, beautiful Hyacinth.

“Hm,” Hyacinth said, looking up from her book. They sat on the porch of Hyacinth’s house, her little wooden cottage, her farmstead. It took her a while to process things, especially when roused from some activity she was engrossed in.

“Oh,” she then said as Reinhild her question reached her. “One of those things trickling in from that other place. Stories. Things. Concepts. A fox is an animal. It tricks men and pulls clever pranks on women, bright red or orange is its fur.”

“That explains it then,” Reinhild said as she ruffled her own red hair, almost but not quite the same colour as the heath growing all around the Lands Lost, subtly different from the colouring of the perpetually-trapped-in-autumn trees. “How do those in the villages know what a fox is, though?”

“They don’t. You’re the fox now.”

“I’m the fox now,” Reinhild whispered to herself. “Should I get some more pomace inside?”

“Hm,” Hyacinth muttered, already engrossed in her book again. ‘Slaves to the Blind Gods,’ it read on the cover. Knowing her, it was either the most peculiar smut or some essay on Old World horrors. Both would probably drive Reinhild mad, but for quite different reasons.

She got up and went inside. Hyacinth her house wasn’t large, but really- nobody’s was these days. In the kitchen she had a couple of bottles of pumpkin pomace, an alcoholic drink distilled from squashed up, ground up pumpkin meat. Someone in a nearby town made it out of pumpkins Hyacinth grew in patches on her farm. Back outside she poured herself another glass, and filled up Hyacinth’s half-empty glass as well.

Tonight was quiet and peaceful, tomorrow would not be.

The sun slowly sank under the horizon. Before long it’d be too dark for Hyacinth to read, and she’d pace around the house for a bit, frustrated that it was too dark to do anything, before finally going to sleep. It was getting late for Reinhild too. There weren’t too many hours of darkness, so she got up and prepared to go to sleep. She wouldn’t be caught dead in a bed, though. Instead she sat upright against the south wall of Hyacinth’s house, so that the first rays of the sun would hit her left cheek first. She closed her eyes and felt around for the comfort of her door, an open book in hand.

It was the next morning indeed the sunlight that woke her up, so she relaxed her grip on Helmatot and got up. Hyacinth was already up as well, pacing back and forth before her door, an open book in hand.

“Restless much?” Reinhild asked.

“I cannot read or sit still when there’s a solid chance I’ll be burying you this afternoon.” Hyacinth replied.

“You won’t,” Reinhild said, laughing. “You’re going to draw runes on my sword arm and a sigil on my back, and in the afternoon you’re going to hold me as the pact enacts its toll on my body. No burying anyone.”

“Do not taunt me,” Hyacinth said.

“I’m not.”

“What do you want for breakfast?” Hyacinth asked. “We’re out of everything except for something salt, something that passes for meat.”

Reinhild thought for a bit, looking at Hyacinth. “Why don’t we do the runes now, then go eat something in town? We need to go in the direction of the forest anyway.”

“I will not,” Hyacinth said.

“Come on, accompany me to town for once.”

“No. I’m going to make you a plate of food, then we’ll do the runes.”

Reinhild sighed. “Alright, have it your way.”

The food was indeed salty, and somewhat resembling meat. It went down well with the remains of yesterday’s bottle of alcohol, though. After breakfast- which was spent in silence with Hyacinth absent-mindedly flipping through the pages of a book- Hyacinth started preparing her brushes, pencils, pen and a variety of inks.

“Go wash yourself,” she instructed Reinhild.

“I’m not that filthy-” Reinhild tried to say but was interrupted by her friend.

“You are. Go to the brook and clean yourself. Grab some things to scrub and dry yourself with from my room.”

“Fine,” she said.

The brook was downhill, right behind Hyacinth’s house.

“Eternal Autumn,” Reinhild cursed as she splashed water over her skin and scrubbed it clean with sheets of fabric, the cold biting into her flesh. As she looked out over the tiny stream, the little wooden bridge someone had built there ages ago, and the endless rolling hills covered in orange, brown, yellow and mottled with green and purple, it was almost a scene from a fairytale.

“Shame for the endless fucking cold though,” she muttered to herself.

Clean- or at least, clean enough that she suspected that Hyacinth would stop complaining, she dried herself off, put on her clothes and leather and went back to the house. There, Hyacinth had shoved most of her belongings to the side, and sat cross-legged in the clearing, her tools beside her. Small candles burned in a circle before her.

“And I thought you ran out of candles long ago,” Reinhild said.

“I have run out of candles to waste on frivolous things like reading, or entertaining your simple mind with the gentle swaying of flame,” Hyacinth said.

“I think I’ll go back to the brook,” she replied.

“Sit down, take off your shirt and be quiet.”

She did. In total silence, dreadful silence that reminded her of vague things that had already happened and of things yet to pass, Reinhild took off her shirt and sat down in the circle of candles before Hyacinth.

Soft tinkling- the mixing of paint, wooden tools tapping against glass and metal pencils being filled broke the quiet that had persisted too long. She shivered as Hyacinth put a sharp, cold shape against her back and slowly drew a circle.

“Don’t move,” Hyacinth whispered.

First a circle, then patterns too complex for Reinhild to track by sense of touch alone. As Hyacinth drew, she felt a chill draw into her body. A chill different from the witch’s demeanour, or the biting of the brook or wind. It was the chill of the dead, stiffening her flesh and hardening her skin. Behind her, Hyacinth started muttering words, poems, to quiet the chthonian spirits the sigil was drawing into Reinhild’s body, so that they would not tear the skin or break her bones.

As the thaumaturgical rigor mortis set in, Reinhild lost most feelings in her flesh and skin.

“Arm,” Hyacinth commanded her when she was done, and placed her hand under her shoulder, nudging her to lift her right arm. “Turn around and give me your arm,” she said, not satisfied.

Hesitant, Reinhild turned around, and Hyacinth grabbed her right arm and immediately started etching the outlines of the runes with a wooden- yet sharp- knife. She was not at all interested in Reinhild’s body.

Her skin cold and hard, what Hyacinth was doing wasn’t really cutting. It was more carving, woodwork rather than surgery. After setting the patterns, she took out brushes and paints. As she inked in the runes she had carved in Reinhild’s tough flesh, a heat started to fill her right arm. As Hyacinth filled them up, the cracks and cuts in Reinhild’s arm started to glow with heat. As she set the final dots of blue paint next to a set of red and yellow, it was overwhelming. Reinhild her arm burned with energy, vigour, and life. Fire leaked from the cracks, lighting up the runic patterns.

“Do you need help putting on your armour?”

“No.”

She struggled to put her armour on. The pieces wouldn’t sit still, it wouldn’t move as fluidly as she wanted, and the straps were too tight and too large. The world was warping and buckling under some kind of strain, and her head hurt with a fever. Colours made no sense and the heath outside might as well have been some construction of endlessly towering painted rolling flames in all the poet’s colours.

“Reinhild,” Hyacinth said to her as she stumbled outside. “Rein? Keep it together.”

“Yeah,” she replied. Words felt thick on her tongue, as if she was coughing up sludge instead of sounds. “My heart’s stopped so walking is difficult.”

Hyacinth shook her head, and dragged her along the long, winding path to the edge of the forest.

Every now and then Reinhild would get frantic bursts of energy, and feel like sprinting the rest of the way, but Hyacinth calmed her down. “Not yet, not yet,” she’d say. Almost completely delirious, Reinhild walked after her friend. The once familiar landscape had warped into an almost unrecognisable cacophony of colour, smell, sensation, all somehow too loud and too bright at the same time. After what felt like a week, an endless week of walking along the blasted heath and dusty trails they reached the edge of the forest.

“Don’t go running off into the forest,” Hyacinth said as they walked along the treeline towards a ruined building.

She was right. Reinhild had been eyeing the forest that marked the border of the Lands. Now, delusional from spells and magic, the forest seemed like an enticing wildernis to get lost in. Get lost in the green, brown and black- crawl on all four, rip out the throat of a boar- “Rein,” Hyacinth said as she saw her salivating, hunched over and growling. “We’re almost there. Hang on for a moment more.”

The stone building had once been an abbey, or perhaps a dormitory for some other place now long lost. They walked in through a crumbled gash in the wall. Inside, on the courtyard, two people were waiting for them.

One was dressed in black, with elfin features like Hyacinth. The other was a young man, in chainmail and colourful cloth. In his hands he gripped a sword- a rapier, more fit for thrusting than slashing, more fit for puncturing than stabbing.

Instinctively, Reinhild reached for her own blade, the shortsword Helmatot. “Not yet,” Hyacinth chided her.

As the young man looked Reinhild over, he became visibly anxious. Afraid. Fear wafted over from him thick in the air, and Reinhild gave in.

“Reinhild,” Hyacinth said sternly but to no avail.

She was already sprinting towards him as she drew her sword. For whatever reason the young man responded by stumbling backwards, which set Reinhild off even more. Gripped tightly in her now burning, blazing, right arm she held Helmatot, and swung it at her opponent hard.

He tried to deflect, but his rapier wasn’t made for that. The thin metal bent the moment the shortsword hit it, leaving it in a borderline unusable condition, and barely slowing down Reinhild’s blow, causing her to hit him hard enough in the sides that he buckled over in pain. His chainmail prevented the sword from cutting him, but that was all it did. Reinhild immediately swung again, but in her dissociative state she wasn’t as skilled as she’d be sober, and cleaved open the man’s skull. The women who had come with him screamed a name.

She howled in victory and dropped on all fours, crawling over to the broken corpse. She tried to get to her opponents soft bits, tender flesh and warm blood, but was frustrated by the armour and cloths in her way, and yelled in frustration.

“Reinhild,” she heard someone call, far in the distance. Someone she knew, perhaps. It didn’t matter. “Reinhild,” she heard someone scream as she finally managed to rip the annoying, interlinked metal rings asunder and sank her teeth into soft flesh. It was sweet, and despite it being rather lean and chewy, had more taste and texture than any preserved meats she had had in recent memory. Plenty of blood flowed from the grisly chunks she tore from whatever it was the flesh belonged to, salty and with a lingering taste of iron. Slowly her mind calmed, lulled to sleep by sweet victory and good food, and she cuddled up to mangled meat and broken armour, and drifted off into sleep.

When she woke up, the sun was setting. She was outside somewhere, and struggled to make sense of her situation.

Slowly but surely, hazy images of a stone ruin and rolling fields came back to her. She was sitting against one of the walls of that ruin, she realised.

“You’ve woken up,” someone beside her said. Hyacinth, beautiful Hyacinth.

“I feel terrible,” Reinhild said.

“You should see the other guy,” Hyacinth said.

“I feel broken. Dehydrated, too. Like my entire body is made of parched leather. My right arm- indescribable.”

“Did I win?”

“You’re still alive. For now. Scattered through the courtyard are the remains of Fleur’s champion.”

“That’s-” she didn’t finish her sentence.

“At least that’s going to make my night easier,” Hyacinth said.

“Why’s that,” Reinhild asked, but then remembered the taste of flesh and tang of blood fresh on her tongue. “Oh,” she said.

“Yes,” Hyacinth replied.

“We should head homewards, then. I don’t want to be out in some field when midnight strikes.”

“There’s plenty of time. It’s not far, and we have until a bit after midnight.”

Reinhild got up, groaning in pain as she did. Blood dripped from the gashes in her right arm. She could feel a wet patch on her back- also blood. At least that was her own blood- in contrast to the dried-up stains on her leather chestpiece and the rest of her clothes.

“Helmatot,” she asked Hyacinth.

“Over there,” Hyacinth replied as she pointed to Reinhild’s beloved shortsword. “I know you prefer it in your hands, but I didn’t feel like being beheaded during your terrible sleep.”

As they walked home, memories came back to Reinhild bit by bit. A strange realisation that this was the same world she witnessed a few hours ago through completely different eyes.

“I want to wash myself when we get home.”

“Not until I’ve disinfected and bandaged you and your wounds start closing up.”

“I’ll freeze to death, then.”

“Then you wash yourself tomorrow. You might get stained still, anyway.”

It was dark when they got to Hyacinth’s farmstead three hours later. Reinhild could barely breathe when she got home- Hyacinth had, to her crippled body, walked at a gruelling pace.

The moment they were inside Reinhild started undoing her armour and kicked away her clothes. She curled up on a rug made out of the hide of some terrible, woolly beast that laid before the fireplace. The eternally burning fireplace that was just slightly too cold to be mistaken for natural fire.

Hyacinth brought her a glass of pomace, which she greedily drank.

She laid herself down again and tried to doze off. She felt unnaturally vulnerable, sleeping without armour or sword, in a building where she wouldn’t hear people outside approaching, nor smell them on the wind. She was too broken to care, and fell asleep.

An hour after midnight it began.

She shook awake, wracked by pain and hunger. The toll had to be paid in due.

“Hunger,” she said, hoarse.

Behind her, Hyacinth embraced her. “I promised,” she said.

“This is worse than opiate withdrawal,” she groaned. “I’m not a child, I won’t scream. I’m not a child.”

Tremors shook her body, and she felt colder than she ever had. Sweat dripped from her forehead.

“So hungry.”

Hyacinth behind her stretched her arm out, and produced a knife with her other hand. She pulled it down her wrist and commanded Reinhild to drink.

Despite being made majorly of paint, Hyacinth’s blood felt, smelled, and tasted quite like the real thing save for the slightest tinge of linseed oil. Memories of the young knight she’d molested came back. The taste of flesh and tang of blood.

Hyacinth’s blood was different. More invigorating, less real. More real than the world around them, less real than Reinhild was. An ethereal pink in colour, though that could’ve been the illumination of the fireplace or her own addled brain.

Beautiful like Hyacinth was, tasted like she imagined Hyacinth would taste.

She howled.

“Be quiet,” Hyacinth said.

“I never know when you’re taunting me,” Reinhild groaned. “More.”

“Do you want me to die of anaemia?”

“More,” Reinhild howled.

Hyacinth tore open her wrist further, and held her arm above Reinhild’s head.

“Closer,” she sputtered as her mouth filled with pink blood.

“You’ll bite me, you animal,” Hyacinth chided her sternly.

“That’s your fault,” Reinhild said.

“That’s your fault,” Reinhild started crying.

“That’s your fault,” she could barely repeat through the tears.

Her face covered in her friend’s blood, her pain waning, she fell asleep, sobbing. Like my writing? Read more over at: https://faroffunhappythings.com/?cat=41

[biblenewsprophecy]

Hurricanes, Solar Storm, and God controls the weather

COGwriter

Hurricane Milton came with tornadoes and caused damage as well as some deaths:

October 10, 2024

St. Lucie County officials confirmed to WPBF 25 News that four people died following tornadoes in the area. …

Officials told us that multiple tornadoes touched down in the Spanish Lakes community, and that search and rescue crews are on their way. Deputies and firefighters are going through the rubble in the community.

Before Hurricane Milton made landfall, more than 160 tornado warnings were issued for south Florida on Wednesday, and more than a dozen tornadoes touched down throughout the day. https://www.wpbf.com/article/officials-multiple-fatalities-in-st-lucie-county-from-tornadoes/62561027

October 10, 2024

Hurricane Milton moved off Florida’s east coast early this AM, downgraded to a Cat. 1 storm. Milton made landfall around 2030 ET on Wednseday near Siesta Key, Florida, a barrier island next to Sarasota. The storm’s destructive winds and torrential rains sparked widespread power outages to over 3 million customers in the state.  …

“We have an unprecedented number of our customers who are without power,” Tampa Electric President and CEO Archie Collins told CNN’s Kasie Hunt earlier this AM. https://www.zerohedge.com/weather/hurricane-milton-swamps-florida-leaves-3-million-without-power

While this is ‘hurricane season,’ the one-two punch of Helene and then Milton has been difficult for many in the eastern US.

As regular readers of this Church of God news page are aware, hurricanes are consistent with the following scriptures about rain and wind:

26 “Behold, God is great, and we do not know Him; Nor can the number of His years be discovered. 27 For He draws up drops of water, Which distill as rain from the mist, 28 Which the clouds drop down And pour abundantly on man. 29 Indeed, can anyone understand the spreading of clouds, The thunder from His canopy? 30 Look, He scatters His light upon it, And covers the depths of the sea. 31 For by these He judges the peoples; He gives food in abundance. 32 He covers His hands with lightning, And commands it to strike. 33 His thunder declares it, The cattle also, concerning the rising storm. (Job 36:26-33)

25 For He commands and raises the stormy wind, Which lifts up the waves of the sea. 26 They mount up to the heavens, They go down again to the depths; Their soul melts because of trouble. 27 They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, And are at their wits’ end. 28 Then they cry out to the Lord in their trouble, And He brings them out of their distresses. 29 He calms the storm, So that its waves are still. 30 Then they are glad because they are quiet; So He guides them to their desired haven. 31 Oh, that men would give thanks to the Lord for His goodness, And for His wonderful works to the children of men! 32 Let them exalt Him also in the assembly of the people, And praise Him in the company of the elders. 33 He turns rivers into a wilderness, And the watersprings into dry ground; 34 A fruitful land into barrenness, For the wickedness of those who dwell in it. 35 He turns a wilderness into pools of water, And dry land into watersprings. 36 There He makes the hungry dwell, That they may establish a city for a dwelling place, 37 And sow fields and plant vineyards, That they may yield a fruitful harvest. 38 He also blesses them, and they multiply greatly; And He does not let their cattle decrease. (Psalms 107:25-38)

17 He casts out His hail like morsels; Who can stand before His cold? 18 He sends out His word and melts them; He causes His wind to blow, and the waters flow. (Psalms 147:17-18)

3 He sends it forth under the whole heaven, His lightning to the ends of the earth. 4 After it a voice roars; He thunders with His majestic voice, And He does not restrain them when His voice is heard. 5 God thunders marvelously with His voice; He does great things which we cannot comprehend. 6 For He says to the snow, ‘Fall on the earth’; Likewise to the gentle rain and the heavy rain of His strength. 7 He seals the hand of every man, That all men may know His work. 8 The beasts go into dens, And remain in their lairs. 9 From the chamber of the south comes the whirlwind, And cold from the scattering winds of the north. 10 By the breath of God ice is given, And the broad waters are frozen. 11 Also with moisture He saturates the thick clouds; He scatters His bright clouds. 12 And they swirl about, being turned by His guidance, That they may do whatever He commands them On the face of the whole earth. 13 He causes it to come, Whether for correction, Or for His land, Or for mercy. (Job 37:3-13)

God controls the weather. Jesus’ disciples got to see this first hand:

23 Now when He got into a boat, His disciples followed Him. 24 And suddenly a great tempest arose on the sea, so that the boat was covered with the waves. But He was asleep. 25 Then His disciples came to Him and awoke Him, saying, “Lord, save us! We are perishing!”

26 But He said to them, “Why are you fearful, O you of little faith?” Then He arose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. 27 So the men marveled, saying, “Who can this be, that even the winds and the sea obey Him?” (Matthew 8:23-27)

Presumably, the disciples learned something from that experience.

Wet weather is sometimes used by God for judgment and correction. Hurricanes are consistent with prophecy.

Some may wish to watch our video related to hurricanes and Bible prophecy:

Hurricanes and Prophecy Hurricane Harvey dropped the greatest amount of rainfall in any USA storm. Hurricane Irma was the strongest hurricane ever in the Atlantic. Hurricane Irma wiped out most of the island of Barbuda, caused a million to lose power in Puerto Rico, devastated St. Martin’s, hit Cuba, and hit Florida. A news headline stated ” ‘Nature’s gone crazy’: Winds, fire, floods and quakes plague North America.” Is there any tie to prophecy? Are heavy winds and rains discussed in the Bible? Any ties to homosexuality and other forms of immorality? What about Donald Trump and Jennifer Lawrence? Does God control the weather? What does God want people to do? Dr. Thiel addresses these issues and more. This is a video.

Here is a link to our video: Hurricanes and Prophecy.

CBS is warning of solar storms:

October 9, 2024

A severe solar storm is headed to Earth that could stress power grids even more as the U.S. deals with major back-to-back hurricanes, space weather forecasters said Wednesday.

The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration issued a severe geomagnetic storm watch for Thursday into Friday after an outburst from the sun was detected earlier this week. Such a storm could temporarily disrupt power and radio signals.

NOAA has notified operators of power plants and orbiting spacecraft to take precautions. It also alerted the Federal Emergency Management Agency about possible power disruptions, as the organization copes with the devastating aftermath of Hurricane Helene and gears up for Hurricane Milton barreling across the Gulf of Mexico toward Florida. https://www.cbsnews.com/news/severe-solar-storm-power-disruptions-hurricane-recovery/

Solar storms can disrupt power, and a large enough one can be devastating that way.

As longtime readers of this page are aware, I have repeatedly warned of weather problems, including solar storms, coming. Back in 2009, in my book, 2012 and the Rise of the Secret Sect, I warned about something that would soon happen:

Odd weather patterns result in … natural disasters. Matthew 24:7 …

The world is actually in a berserk transition … It is the beginning of sorrows. Matthew 24:8 (Thiel B. 2012 and the Rise of the Secret Sect. Nazarene Books, 2009, p. 240)

Since that was published, we have had record smashing heat, stronger hurricanes, and odd weather problems. These weather issues should serve as a wake-up call.

A reader sent me a link to the following:

Coincidence or Not, the Storms Mark the Beginning of the Most Impactful Days for America

October 9, 2024

Throughout our relatively short history as a nation, events have marked turning points that not only impact Americans but the world as a whole. The signing of the Declaration of Independence, Civil War, Pearl Harbor, 9/11, and Covid are five of the world-changing events that mark our history.

We’re in the middle of another one.

The world will change on (or around) Election Day, 2024. It is on this day that it will be declared whether the United States will continue to exist as an exceptional nation or if our time as the world’s beacon of hope has come to an end.

That is not hyperbole. …

That’s why the timing of TWO “storms of the century” is conspicuous. I’m willing to accept a small percentage chance that it’s just a coincidence. …

Probably coincidence.

The other theory is the one that should both thrill and terrify us the most. What if God is sending these massive storms to punch us in the nose ahead of our demise? I’d love to hope they’re a pair of warning shots and that brighter days are ahead, but considering how much we deserve judgment, I wouldn’t bet on it.

Solar activity that some theorize can amplify storms has been in play since right around the storms started, particularly Milton. It’s not a theory you’ll hear much about on either corporate media or alternative media because it denies the man-made narrative from both sides. Conspiracy theorists want to blame DARPA. Leftists want to blame climate change. Neither side wants to attribute any of this to the Sun, especially as a method through which God could be acting against America.

As usual, the cause doesn’t change our own actions very much. Regardless of what’s causing the storms, we need to do what we can to help those who are impacted. We must also be mindful of attempts to use the chaos from the storms to steal the 2024 election, advance the climate change agenda, or both. https://jdrucker.substack.com/p/coincidence-or-not-the-storms-mark

While many in the media believe that climate change is the cause, and to a degree it is, they fail to understand that behaviors that many in the West are promoting are factors.

God uses weather for various reasons, including to show people that this world will change.

Also to remind people that they need to change.

The recent storms are consistent with the following that Jesus foretold:

8 And there will be earthquakes in various places, and there will be famines and troubles. These are the beginnings of sorrows. (Mark 13:8)

Major hurricanes are troubling. We are in the beginning of sorrows.

Here is something from our free online book Lost Tribes and Prophecies: What will happen to Australia, the British Isles, Canada, Europe, New Zealand and the United States of America?:

The Bible warns that God will “hurl disasters” against some descended from Israel (Deuteronomy 32:23, NJB) who “provoke” God (Deuteronomy 32:21-22, NKJV). Disasters, especially if there is an ElectroMagnetic Pulse (EMP) attack, a severe solar flare storm, devastating hurricane (s) something like a massive volcanic eruption and/or massive earthquake could be part of a so-called “perfect storm” of events that could set up the U.S.A. for destruction.

Consider the devastation of New Orleans by Hurricane Katrina. Multiply that by other disasters. The U.S.A. is at risk. Notice, also, the following related to Dr. Michio Kaku’s assessment of Yellowstone:

Scientists assure us that one day the absolutely massive Yellowstone supervolcano will once again experience a Category 8 eruption, and if it happened today it would “literally tear the guts out of the United States of America” … “Instead of having 50 states of the Union, we would have 30 states of the Union.”[Snyder M. As Yellowstone Awakens, Dr. Michio Kaku Warns That It Could “Literally Tear The Guts Out Of The United States Of America”. Economic Collapse Blog, February 2019]

Even something lessor than that at Yellowstone or the Cascades or elsewhere could have devastating consequences. A ‘perfect storm’ of disasters, internal strife, and misplaced confidences will help make the U.S.A. a nation that can be defeated. Without the U.S.A., its British-descended allies simply do not have the military ability to hold off major military powers.

Many sorrows that the U.S.A. and its British-descended allies will face, like severe weather problems, diseases and earthquakes, will worsen in the future (Amos 4:7-10; Luke 21:11). The political leadership in those lands looks to hasten the day of destruction.

The end of the Anglo-American dominated world order of the past two or so centuries is coming to an end.

Weather events should serve as a wake-up call to all for repentance.

Related Items:

Hurricanes and Prophecy Hurricane Harvey dropped the greatest amount of rainfall in any USA storm. Hurricane Irma was the strongest hurricane ever in the Atlantic. Hurricane Irma wiped out most of the island of Barbuda, caused a million to lose power in Puerto Rico, devastated St. Martin’s, hit Cuba, and hit Florida. A news headline stated ” ‘Nature’s gone crazy’: Winds, fire, floods and quakes plague North America.” Is there any tie to prophecy? Are heavy winds and rains discussed in the Bible? Any ties to homosexuality and other forms of immorality? What about Donald Trump and Jennifer Lawrence? Does God control the weather? What does God want people to do? Dr. Thiel addresses these issues and more. This is a video.

Islands and Bible Prophecy What’s ahead for islands? What does the Bible prophesy about them? Physical Preparation Scriptures for Christians. We all know the Bible prophecies famines. Should we do something? Here is a version in the Spanish language Escrituras sobre Preparación física para los Cristianos. Here is a link to a related sermon: Physical preparedness for Christians.

Weather Blessings and Sorrows Are weather problems a warning? What should be done? What does the Bible teach about weather? What about floods, droughts, heat, earthquakes, tornadoes, and solar storms? Here is a related YouTube video Does God Use Weather? A related item in the Spanish language would be Bendiciones y maldiciones del clima.

The ‘Unpardonable Sin’ and ‘Climate Change’? On September 7, 2016, Olav Fykse Tveit, Church of Norway Pastor, and the General Secretary of the World Council of Churches, essentially declared that those who ignore ‘climate change’ are committing the ‘unpardonable sin’ against the Holy Spirit. Are those two even related? In this video, Dr. Thiel answers that and explains from the Bible what the ‘unpardonable sin’ is and how you can avoid it. He also discusses aspects of Christianity and the environment.

The Bible, Christians, and the Environment How should Christians view the environment? Does the Bible give any clues? What are some of the effects of air, water, and land pollution? Is environmental pollution a factor in autism and death? Do pollutants seem to double the autism risk? What will Jesus do? Here is a link to a related sermon: Christians and the Environment (there is also a YouTube video available titled Air Pollution, Autism, and Prophecy, one titled Will Pollution lead to the End?, and one called COP 27 and Solving Climate Change).

Is God Calling You? This booklet discusses topics including calling, election, and selection. If God is calling you, how will you respond? Here is are links to related sermons: Christian Election: Is God Calling YOU? and Predestination and Your Selection; here is a message in Spanish: Me Está Llamando Dios Hoy? A short animation is also available: Is God Calling You?

Christian Repentance Do you know what repentance is? Is it really necessary for salvation? Two related sermons about this are also available: Real Repentance and Real Christian Repentance.

About Baptism Should you be baptized? Could baptism be necessary for salvation? Who should baptize and how should it be done? Here is a link to a related sermon: Let’s Talk About Baptism and Baptism, Infants, Fire, & the Second Death.

Lost Tribes and Prophecies: What will happen to Australia, the British Isles, Canada, Europe, New Zealand and the United States of America? Where did those people come from? Can you totally rely on DNA? Do you really know what will happen to Europe and the English-speaking peoples? What about the peoples of Africa, Asia, South America, and the islands? This free online book provides scriptural, scientific, historical references, and commentary to address those matters. Here are links to related sermons: Lost tribes, the Bible, and DNA; Lost tribes, prophecies, and identifications; 11 Tribes, 144,000, and Multitudes; Israel, Jeremiah, Tea Tephi, and British Royalty; Gentile European Beast; Royal Succession, Samaria, and Prophecies; Asia, Islands, Latin America, Africa, and Armageddon;  When Will the End of the Age Come?;  Rise of the Prophesied King of the North; Christian Persecution from the Beast; WWIII and the Coming New World Order; and Woes, WWIV, and the Good News of the Kingdom of God.

LATEST NEWS REPORTS

LATEST BIBLE PROPHECY INTERVIEWS

[blackandgolddistillery]

Cornish Gin: A Spirit Rooted in Tradition and Terroir

Cornish gin, a spirit that has recently garnered international acclaim, is more than just a drink—it's a celebration of the unique landscape and rich history of Cornwall, a rugged county in the southwestern tip of England. The gin's rise to prominence is a testament to the region's dedication to quality and its ability to infuse tradition with contemporary innovation.

Cornwall, famous for its breathtaking coastline, rolling moors, and historic fishing villages, has long been a source of inspiration for its local producers. The distinctive flavor profile of Cornish gin is a reflection of its terroir—a French term often used in wine-making that refers to the environmental factors affecting a crop's phenotype, including unique conditions like soil, weather, and farming methods. In the case of Cornish gin, this concept extends to the botanicals used, many of which are foraged from the wild landscapes of Cornwall.

One of the key characteristics of Cornish gin is its botanical diversity. London dry Gin distillers have access to a rich variety of indigenous plants, such as gorse, heather, and seaweed, which add a distinctive taste that cannot be replicated elsewhere. Gorse, with its coconut-like aroma, provides a sweet and floral note, while the salty, briny quality of seaweed imparts a sense of the nearby ocean. Heather, another common botanical, offers a delicate, honeyed flavor that round out the profile.

The production of Cornish gin is deeply rooted in the region's history. Cornwall's maritime heritage, particularly its role in smuggling during the 18th century, laid the groundwork for its distilling culture. Gin was among the many goods illegally traded along the coast, and the spirit has been intertwined with the county's identity ever since. Today, modern distillers pay homage to this history by crafting gin in small batches, using traditional methods alongside cutting-edge techniques.

Among the prominent Cornish gin producers, Tarquin's Gin stands out as a pioneer in the region's gin renaissance. Founded by Tarquin Leadbetter in 2012, the distillery is known for its handcrafted approach, using copper pot stills and carefully selected botanicals. Tarquin’s flagship gin, infused with violets, citrus, and other local ingredients, has won numerous awards, putting Cornish gin on the global map.

Other notable distilleries, such as The Wrecking Coast and Curio Spirits Company, also contribute to Cornwall's gin story, each bringing its own unique twist to the craft. Whether experimenting with barrel-aging techniques or creating innovative flavor combinations, these distillers maintain a strong connection to Cornwall's natural environment and heritage.

In summary, Crafted Gin is more than just a drink—it's a reflection of the land, the sea, and the history of Cornwall. With each sip, one can taste the essence of the region, making it a truly unique and cherished spirit in the world of gin.

[sweetellafontaine]

((Polaris)) 💗 Someday | Timothy [18 Aug 2019] ((Do not reply))

She was beginning to feel the weight of summer. Summer meant no classes, it meant working at the magic laundry and working on the household. The Fontaine mansion wasn’t built for one person to do all the work yet that was exactly how the household was arranged. And all of it was put on Ella Fontaine who, if her father had not remarried would be the master of the mansion.

After her shift at the magical laundry, she barely could stand on her feet. Blisters prevented her from moving quickly and she barely could bite back her tears.

“Someday, I will find my happiness.” She whispered to herself as a weak attempt to cheer herself up, she found herself sitting down on the pavement removing a shoe to see the damage on her feet. It was worse than she imagined. And she sighed. “When will kindness repay me, mother?” She whispered to herself, surprised to see a butterfly landing before her. She decided to dry her tears and put back her shoes but got started to see she no longer was alone.

“Oh, I apologize.” She kindly smiled before offering the other a bow.

After two back to back washes Timothy let out a sigh of relief when he sniffed his clothes. While working at Jumbo’s was fun his clothes tended to smell like pizza more often than not, even spreading to his home clothes. Stuffing everything away into a gym bag he hoisted it over his shoulder, hearing the bell jingle he watched a blonde girl duck out with a wave goodbye presumably to her coworkers. 

Following not far behind her he blinked when he saw something flash on the ground, feeling the light bounce off into his face. Bending down he picked up the small case looking vaguely like a card holder, glancing back up he figured it was more than likely the girl’s. Seeing her a bit to his left he blinked in surprise wondering if she was waiting on a ride or taking a small break, though she’d picked an odd place. Too lost in thought he’d walked up faster to her than he’d anticipated, hearing her mumbles he almost missed the tears she was quickly drying.

His brows shot up at the bow, ok now that was a new one he mused. Clearing his throat he shook his head, “You’re fine, honestly my bad for walking up without saying anything,” he apologized. Remembering his whole point of walking up he held the case up for her to see, “By any chance is this yours?”

She took notice of the case she was holding, and a fond smile carried on her lips. It was one her mother had made when she was still alive. “In fact yes, that is mine.” She opened the case to see a picture of her former family and smiled as if it was a sign of her dear mother herself. “I must have dropped it during my shift.”

She softly hummed for a moment before giving him a tiny bow. “Thank you, what can I do to repay your kindness?”

Timothy let out a sigh of relief when she confirmed his assumption. Handing it off to her he smiled as she looked at it fondly. Jimmy would be proud of him he thought, maybe he’d bring up the situation during drinks just to get him to relax for a bit. “Found it outside actually probably just slipped out your bag.”

At her second bow he raised a brow in surprise, her mannerisms reminded him of Duke. Clearing his throat he shifted the bag resisting the urge to make a quip, Jimmy was rubbing off on him more than he liked. Shifting his bag again he paused before smiling sheepishly, “Actually could use some advice, any tips for how to get pizza smells out of clothes? You could probably save me a couple hours a week.”

She got quite startled, and yet she had been extremely tired so it wouldn’t be too odd that she had lost it outside. Part of that filled her with dread. She could have lost such an important memory of her parents. “Thank you, truly. This means a lot to me. I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost it to never have it returned.”

Pizza smell? She pondered for a moment. “Mix 1 cup distilled white vinegar and 1 cup baking soda with just enough water to cover the clothes. Soak for 4 hours. Then put the clothes and vinegar/baking soda mixture in the wash and launder as usual.” She smiled. “Do you work in a pizza place?”

“Hey no need to dwell on what ifs,” Timothy said feeling a little self conscious from all the praise and using his best method to deflect. Jimmy usually said similar things trying positive reinforcement on him. He shot her an easy grin, “Sure anybody woulda done the same thing.”

Nodding he typed a quick note onto his phone making a mental note to forward it to all the kiddos working for him. “Jumbo’s actually, your run of the mill friendly neighborhood manager,” he said cheerfully. “You’re gonna have a lot of grateful teens on your hands, pizzas great for lunch not so great during the off hours.”

He made a fair point, the most important part was knowing that she had her picture returned. She could remember well when this was taken, she could remember her mom hugging her close and her father’s fond smile before trying to look like a stern father. He was way too softhearted with Ella. She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Jumbo? I haven’t been there yet. Maybe I should.” She chuckled. “I’m happy to help in any way. I do hope it helps in the end.”

Patting his body with his free hands he dug around his pockets before he found a card with Jumbo’s logo and his name underneath. “We’d be happy to have you come in,” he said holding the card out to her, “bring some friends in sometime this week. I’ll get you guys a half off deal on food and games.” 

“Honestly you’re a bit of a life saver right now for them, we’ve been trying a lot of different detergents. You’ve been working at the laundromat long?”

“I’m happy to pay you a visit, but you really have no reason for repaying me after all this is my job.” Though it felt a bit rude to reject his kind offer. “Well, it won’t be too many people. My friends are very limited.” Mostly due to the fact that she didn’t get to get out much aside from going to work.

“I’ve been working here ever since my father died after remarrying. My stepmother felt that I shouldn’t burden her by having her pay for my tuition. And that I should be happy I’m still allowed to live with her. I guess she has a point since she is the mistress of the house.”  Ella didn’t mind having to work hard. “So it’s been a couple of years already. Everyone is very kind here, so I don’t mind it at all.”

“Technically you’re not on the clock right now,” he replied shrugging a bit, “Actually speaking of which I’m not keeping you from anything am I?” This girl was too nice he mused, he hated to think he was inconveniencing her in some way. 

Burden? His brow furrowed in confusion at her words the wheels clicking in his head. He had to bite back the urge to argue, she reminded him a bit of Duke when they first met. “She sounds like a..,” don’t say it that voice that sounded like Jimmy in his head snapped, “very old fashioned woman,” he said settling for a more neutral term. “Does she..usually talk like that about things?” he questioned trying to be as casual as possible.

“I work after hours to generally clean up.” If she didn’t she couldn’t afford college. “Don’t worry, my boss isn’t that strict with me. She is very kind and she allows me to breaks when I need one.” She truly was blessed to work in such an adorable place like this.

Her smile faltered for a second. “I suppose she would be in the eyes of others, she, however, considers herself to be a rather…modern thinking woman.” Almost instinctively, her hand moved to her sleeve, tugging to hide the bruises. “Well…” She wasn’t quite comfortable with the question. “I mean…It’s manageable you know.” But was it?

Least her work life seemed healthy enough he mused quietly to himself. He himself was fairly laid back in his workplace letting the kids do homework while he finished closing up on slow nights. “Careful you keep telling me how good of a worker you are and I might try to poach you for Jumbo’s” he teased playfully.

Resisting the urge to snort Timothy fiddled with the strap on his bag thinking over his words. He averted her gaze when he saw her fiddling wanting to give her some semblance of privacy. Shrugging he for one of the few times in his life picked his words carefully, “You know manageable looks good on a resume, not sure how well it fits towards home stuff.” Pausing he shook his head, “Sorry I’m probably overstepping just…you remind me of a buddy of mine.”

“Well I could always use an extra job, but I fear my body won’t let me.” She already lived on three to four hours of actual sleep. If she were to take another job, she might get overwhelmed with the house chores. She pondered over it. Maybe she could reschedule how she did her chores and her laundry job.

“We don’t get to pick our homes.” She muttered. It wasn’t very kind of her to say, but she didn’t like lying either. Her home was in the hands of a woman who despite her. “I understand your concern, but I’ll manage.” She would manage, saving money to the day she could leave that house filled with memories of her real parents. Secretly her heart broke a little over the idea.

Timothy resisted an urge to frown at her words, that hadn’t been his intention at all. He’d met less adults that were less workaholic than this girl was, though he doubted it was just because she enjoyed it. Still there wasn’t much he could do without overstepping he thought, he was a stranger after all. 

“No we don’t,” he agreed thinking back before his adoption and the less than stellar home life he’d had. Swallowing he knew he should probably let her go off he’d held her up long enough and he very much did not want to come off as creepy. “I’m sure you will but,” he grabbed one of his business cards out of his wallet. He rarely used them but for once grateful the owner had made them, “Listen if you ever wanna talk…or just need someone to make you laugh. Call me alright?”

end

[cfb-inc]

Clymer Farm Cultivating Barley in Florida's Unique Climate

Florida, renowned for its sunshine and sandy beaches, may not be the first place that comes to mind when one thinks of barley cultivation. However, the Clymer Farm, located in the heart of the Sunshine State, is proving that with innovation and determination, even barley can thrive in this unique climate.

Clymer Farm, nestled in the fertile land of northern Florida, is breaking new ground in the state's agricultural scene. What sets this family-owned farm apart is its successful cultivation of barley, a crop that is more commonly associated with cooler, northern regions. The Clymer family's journey to establish barley as a viable crop in Florida is both inspiring and a testament to the power of adaptability in agriculture.

Florida's warm and humid climate may seem an unlikely candidate for barley farming. Barley is typically grown in cooler, more temperate climates like those found in the northern United States, Canada, and Europe. However, the Clymer family saw potential in this unconventional endeavor and decided to take on the challenge.

One of the key factors contributing to Clymer Farm's success is their relentless commitment to research and experimentation. They collaborated with agricultural experts and agronomists to develop barley strains that could thrive in Florida's unique conditions. These strains are heat-tolerant, disease-resistant, and well-suited for the state's climate.

The farm's location is also ideal for barley farming due to the proximity of fresh water sources, which are crucial for crop irrigation. The Clymers have invested in advanced irrigation systems to ensure the barley crops receive the optimal amount of water, even in Florida's sporadically dry spells.

In recent years, Clymer Farm's barley cultivation has gained recognition for its high quality. The barley produced here has been sought after by local breweries and distilleries looking for a unique, local ingredient to craft distinctive beverages. This not only benefits the farm economically but also promotes the idea of a "Florida terroir" in the world of brewing and distilling.

Beyond economic benefits, the Clymers have also contributed to local sustainability efforts. Barley is a cover crop, which means it can help improve soil health and reduce erosion. As part of their commitment to responsible farming, the Clymers use sustainable agricultural practices, such as crop rotation and minimal pesticide use, to ensure the long-term viability of their land.

Challenges have certainly arisen on this unconventional agricultural journey. Florida's unpredictable weather patterns can be a significant obstacle for barley farming. Sudden rain or prolonged heatwaves can affect crop yields and quality. Nevertheless, the Clymer family's determination and adaptability have allowed them to overcome these challenges.

Clymer Farm's success story serves as a testament to the potential for innovation in agriculture. Their pioneering efforts have opened the door to exploring new crops in unexpected places, providing hope for sustainable agriculture in an ever-changing world.

In conclusion, Clymer Farm's journey to cultivate barley in the heart of Florida is a tale of resilience, innovation, and determination. Their successful efforts to adapt barley to Florida's unique climate offer a glimpse into the possibilities of diversifying agriculture and promoting local sustainability. As the Clymers continue to redefine the boundaries of agriculture in Florida, they inspire us all to rethink what can be achieved in the face of challenges, and to consider the untapped potential that lies in the soil beneath our feet.

for more info:-

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[vicdillahay]

"The Jody Grind" with Doug Carmichael at Dry Land Distillers

Doug Carmichael and I playing Horace Silver’s “The Jody Grind” at Dry Land Distillers’ First Wednesday Jazz on September 4th, 2024.

[bookmarksandblog]

Unveiling the Craft of Gin Distillery: From Botanicals to Bottles

Gin, the quintessential spirit with its distinctive botanical-infused flavor, has been enjoying a renaissance in recent years. As craft spirits have taken center stage, gin distilleries have emerged as hubs of creativity and innovation, marrying tradition with experimentation. In this blog, we'll dive into the fascinating world of gin distillery, exploring its history, production process, and the artistry behind crafting this beloved spirit.

The History of Gin

Gin's roots can be traced back to the Middle Ages, where it was initially developed in the Netherlands as a medicinal elixir. Later, during the 17th century, it found its way to the United Kingdom, becoming immensely popular due to the "Gin Craze." This period saw the rise of countless small-scale distilleries producing low-quality and often dangerous gin.

It was not until the 18th century that the government intervened, implementing the "Gin Act" to regulate production and curb excessive consumption. This marked the beginning of a more refined approach to gin production, which has evolved into the modern craft distillery scene we know today.

The Craft of Gin Distillery

Gin distillation is an art that begins with the careful selection of botanicals. Juniper berries are the fundamental ingredient, providing gin with its signature piney and citrusy notes. Beyond juniper, distillers get creative, incorporating a variety of herbs, spices, fruits, and floral elements to craft unique flavour profiles. Common botanicals include coriander, angelica root, citrus peels, cinnamon, and cardamom.

The production process typically involves two methods: the compound gin method and the distillation method. Compound gin is a simpler and quicker process that involves infusing botanicals into neutral spirit, whereas the distillation method employs a traditional copper still to create a more complex and refined spirit.

The distillation process begins by loading the still with the chosen botanicals and neutral alcohol. The still is then heated, and as the mixture evaporates, the vapours pass through a coiled condenser where they turn back into liquid form. The distillate, now known as "new make" or "base gin," undergoes further refinement through additional distillations or blending with other distillates.

Artisanal Techniques and Innovations

Gin distillers are renowned for their creativity and passion for experimentation. Many distilleries take a hands-on approach, macerating botanicals by hand or using traditional pot stills, which imparts a rich character to the final product. Others explore innovative techniques, such as vacuum distillation or vapour infusion, which allow for greater control over the flavour extraction process.

Moreover, the rise of craft distilleries has paved the way for unique and locally sourced ingredients. Some distilleries even grow their own botanicals, establishing a strong connection with the land and their communities.

The Craft Gin Renaissance

The craft gin movement has seen a resurgence of small-batch, artisanal distilleries worldwide. These distilleries emphasise quality over quantity, prioritising the use of premium ingredients and a dedication to traditional distillation methods.

Each craft distillery typically offers a diverse range of gin expressions, from classic London Dry to contemporary and experimental gins. Some distillers specialise in limited-edition releases, while others focus on producing a core range of gins, each with its own distinct flavour profile.

Visiting a Gin Distillery

For gin enthusiasts and curious explorers alike, visiting a gin distillery can be a captivating experience. Many distilleries welcome visitors for tours, offering insights into their production processes, history, and the chance to taste their delightful creations. Some distilleries even provide hands-on workshops, allowing visitors to blend their unique gin under the guidance of skilled distillers.

Conclusion

The world of gin distilleries is one of tradition, craftsmanship, and endless possibilities. From humble medicinal beginnings to the diverse and creative spirits available today, gin has undoubtedly undergone an exciting evolution. Whether you are a seasoned gin aficionado or a budding enthusiast, exploring the artistry behind gin distillation unveils a world of botanical wonders and taste sensations waiting to be discovered. Cheers to the craft of gin distillery and the talented distillers who continue to push the boundaries of this timeless spirit!

[lokislynx]

Captain Morgan: Sailing, drowning merry intoxication... Taste it, feel it, savor each sensation... Let the dream begin, let your pirate side give in... To the power of the rum that I can distill... The power of the dark Captain Morgan!

*a loud bang of a gun and the smell of gun powder fills the air*

Captain Morgan: Hey! You almost hit me, you scurvy dog!

Erik: Andrew Lloyd Ickyebber! Really! I will keel haul you if I ever hear it again!

Captain Morgan: On dry land?

Erik: Aye! Savvy?

Captain Morgan seriously scared: Shiver me timbers... Aye aye, captain!

Erik: And stop trying to seduce Lestat.

Captain Morgan: Aarrr...

Lestat smiling: I don't mind.

[peternelthorpe]

New Dad Gift Ideas

New Post has been published on https://smallgiftideas.org/new-dad-gift-ideas/

New Dad Gift Ideas

New Dad Gift Ideas

If you’re shopping for a new dad, these gift ideas will make him feel special. They’re both useful and fun, so he’ll use them all the time.

New dads are often under stress, sleep-deprived, and overwhelmed. You can help them get through the tough times by getting them one of these gifts.

Face Mask

If your new dad is looking for a way to pamper his skin, an anti-aging face mask is an excellent choice. It has hyaluronic acid, vitamin E, green tea and jojoba oil to nourish his skin and leave it looking smoother and firmer.

He’ll love using this nourishing cream on his face each day to help reduce fine lines and wrinkles, brighten his complexion, and make him feel refreshed. He’ll also appreciate its easy application and a satisfaction guarantee!

As with any product, it’s important to test out a mask before using it on your entire face. You don’t want to end up with a rashes or acne breakouts.

Luckily, most face masks are safe to use and will not irritate your skin. Just remember to not apply a mask more than once a week and always wash it thoroughly afterward.

One of the most common questions about masks is whether they protect people from infection. The CDC has recommended them for more than half a decade, but researchers are still working to be more sure they are effective.

It’s a good idea to wear a mask when you go out in crowded places, especially when there are many people around. The mask should fit closely to your face to filter out droplets and particles that you breathe, cough or sneeze out. It should be comfortable and not cause a lot of airflow so you do not get tired while wearing it. It’s also important to not share masks, and if they get wet, to wash them.

Dry Shampoo

Dry shampoo is a great gift idea for the new dad on your list who needs a little pick-me-up. With a busy schedule and little time to spare, this savvy hair cleanser can help him extend his style while keeping greasy tresses at bay.

It’s a powdered formula that usually comes in a spray or powder shaker bottle, and can absorb excess oil on the scalp without the need for water. It works by depositing oil-absorbing ingredients like silica, clay, rice starch, and charcoal into dry hair at the roots to reduce greasiness and absorb shine.

However, a good dry shampoo shouldn’t be used to replace a regular shampoo or cleansing routine. In fact, using it too often can be damaging to the hair.

To get the most out of your dry shampoo, hold it about six inches away from your head and spray directly at your roots. This will allow the oil-zapping starch to properly exit and land evenly on greasy roots, says Ardree Merriweather, lead educator at Drybar.

The key to finding a dry shampoo that’s effective is to choose one with the right ingredients. For example, Pantene’s Dry Affair Never Tell Dry Shampoo contains natural tapioca starch instead of talc (which can discolor hair) or petroleum distillates.

The best dry shampoos are lightweight, non-sticky, and formulated to quickly absorb any oil in your hair. Also, make sure the dry shampoo you choose has a fresh, clean scent that’s not overpowering.

Slippers

Slippers are a great gift idea for new dads because they are soft shoes designed to keep feet warm. They can be made from leather, suede or rubber with uppers made from fur, lamb’s wool, shearling and other insulating materials.

They are also available in many different styles, colors and sizes. Some are open-heeled and have a thin rubber sole, while others are closed-heeled and have thicker rubber bottoms for indoor use.

If you’re looking for a pair of slippers that the new dad in your life will really enjoy, then a good quality pair is a must. Some of the best brands of slippers have a padded sole that absorbs shock from everyday activities, while others offer arch support and have a breathable lining to keep feet cool.

Another option is to purchase a pair of moccasin slippers. These lightweight footwear were once worn by Native Americans and are available in several different color options.

In addition to being comfortable, they’re also incredibly affordable and are easy to wash. They’re a great choice for dads who are busy but want to look stylish when they’re out and about with their kids.

If your new dad is a fitness enthusiast, then he may want a pair of running shoes to wear with his slippers. These breathable, temperature-regulating runners from Hoka One One are perfect for him because they provide good support without weighing him down.

Wallet Ninja

The Wallet Ninja is an 18-in-1 credit card sized multi tool that is sure to come in handy for your dad. It is made from heat treated steel and is guaranteed to never rust or bend. It has a variety of tools including screwdrivers, wrenches, and a ruler that can be used for measuring items.

The ninja also includes a bottle opener and a cell phone stand. This makes it an ideal gift for your dad who loves gadgets and can use them to fix things on the go!

Personalized Wallet Ninjas are an eye-catching promotional gift that is great for guerilla marketing, goodie bag items, and trade show giveaways. Custom Wallet Ninjas feature your design etched onto the metal business card and are sure to make your company stand out from the crowd.

When you buy a personalized Wallet Ninja from our online store, we will send you a proof of your design for approval before production. You can add your logo and any other information you’d like to display on the ninja.

This credit card sized tool features 18 different tools that include screwdrivers, wrenches, a ruler, and a cell phone stand. It’s made of 4X heat-treated steel and comes with a lifetime guarantee. It’s TSA-approved and fits easily into your wallet!

Swiss Army Pocket Knife

Whether he’s an outdoorsy guy or just likes to tinker, a Swiss Army pocket knife makes a great gift for dad. They’re lightweight, incredibly handy and have dozens of uses – everything from a blade to scissors to a nail file and screwdriver.

They’re also easy to clean and maintain. Simply add a drop of oil to each tool’s external hinges and internal moving parts to lubricate and prevent them from getting stuck or damaged.

Then, use a small cloth or paper towel to soak up any dripping oil that may be inside the tools. This will help keep the tools rust-free and sharp for years to come.

When it comes to the best Swiss Army knives, there are a lot to choose from, so make sure you pick the one that works best for you and your dad’s needs. For example, if he’s a hunter, you might want to go for the Victorinox Classic SD, which has an ideal blade size and is built in Switzerland.

Another option is the French cutlery brand Deejo, which allows you to customize a knife on its website in a number of ways. Using their intuitive 3D interface, you can choose from a variety of design choices, including handle materials and blade etching. And you can even engrave dad’s name or a special quote, which will really make his knife extra special.

Exercise Equipment

If the dad in your life is a fitness buff, then exercise equipment is a great gift idea. From treadmills to free weights, there are a variety of options that new dads can use to keep fit.

A good treadmill can help a father achieve a healthy cardiovascular routine that includes running, walking and jogging. This machine offers high speeds, incline levels and multiple program modes for a workout that can be as challenging or easy as he wants it to be.

It also helps to increase his endurance, strength and muscle growth for a healthier life. This high-end treadmill also comes with a console that tracks calorie burn and heart rate to help him monitor his progress.

Another great option is an elliptical. It can be used as a cardio machine to get an effective and low-impact workout that’s perfect for the dad who is busy with a full-time job.

This elliptical has eight resistance levels and large footplates so he can vary his workout to suit his fitness level. He can also mix and match workouts by alternating between intense cardio and strength training on this machine.

If your dad loves lifting heavy, then this set of adjustable dumbbells is a splurge-worthy gift for him. With an adjustable height and voice-activated rerack, it’s the perfect accessory to his strength-training routine.

[artemistorm]

Hyrule: Wind. Wind. Wake up.

Wind: Huh what

Hyrule: Quick question. If you were stuck in the middle of the ocean on a raft or a small boat with only a dead octorok how would you survive?

Wind: I would drink the blood of the octorok to stay hydrated and give me energy, then I would skin the octorok, cut it’s flesh into strips to air-dry, use the skin, cartilage, bones and maybe driftwood or wood from the raft to create three bowls, fill the bottom one with seawater, put the empty second smaller bowl above the first one, and the wider flatter third bowl above the other two to create a water-evaporation distiller so I could have fresh drinking water. Then I’d eat the dried octorok jerky whenever I got hungry, read the currents, wind, and stars, and navigate my way back to land or the ship or wherever I was going. Why do you ask?

Hyrule: …

Hyrule: I don’t know--I was just… I was… I was thinking about that one time in Wild’s Hyrule… and…

Hyrule: Wow. That was incredible. You didn’t even hesitate, you just jumped straight into this super complicated answer.

Wind: What? You gotta be prepared for anything on the open ocean. And it’s not like that hasn’t happened to me before.

Hyrule: I just can’t get over that epic answer. You know you’re much smarter than you look.

Wind: Oh, thanks I-- wait. Did you just--are you saying I look dumb?

Hyrule: Wait! No! I didn’t-- hold on did you just say that exact circumstance has happened to you before?

Wind: Are you serious? Did you just wake me up in the middle of the night to ask me a ridiculous question and then thank me by insulting me?

Hyrule: Hold on just a second I didn’t mean--

Wind: How would you like a dead octorok to the face?

Hyrule: WAIT STOP WHAT

Hyrule: OH MY GODDESS THAT’S RANCID! EWW GET IT OFF ME! WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE A DEAD OCTOROK IN YOUR BAG?!?!?!

Wind: For… reasons.

Warriors (on watch): HEY! What’s going on here? Are you guys trying to wake the whole camp?

Time: The whole camp is already awake. (What is that dreadful smell?!)

Wild: Wind! What did you-- did you just hit Hyrule with a dead octorok?

Wind: He deserved it.

Wild: Hyrule’s a perfect angel. He could never deserve that.

Wild: How would you like a Lizalfos tail to the face?

Wind: I fucking dare you. Just try it. See what happens.

Hyrule: Wait no, stand down Wild. It’s fine. I swear.

Wild: Don’t worry, I’ll avenge your honor.

Warriors: There’ll be no avenging--AHH GROSS! WILD YOU BASTARD DID YOU JUST THROW AN EYEBALL AT ME??

Wild: DEAD-MONSTER-BODY-PART FIGHT!

Wind: YOU’RE ON! LET’S GO!

Hyrule: Dear sweet Hylia what have I done? *cries*

[missroserose]

Whumptober Day 18: Treading Water

Kick.  Kick.  Push, pull.  Inhale. exhale.  Keep your head held high. Don’t think about how heavy your body feels in this deadened water, no saline to buoy it, no microorganisms to carry your distress to your sisters (no sisters to hear you, even if there were).  You kick harder, raising your head further out of the water—this is but a temporary inconvenience, you are immortal—

“Whaddya mean, there’s no way to kill it?”  A child’s voice in a man’s timbre, the whining note amplified by the echoes from the cave surrounding.  “Everything dies, Sam.”  Cold, dead eyes focusing on your face through the grate above your head; a child, perhaps, but still a killer.  “They’re, what, Ancient Greek?  So there’s gotta be something in the lore.”

“Sure, lots.  Nereids are mentioned hundreds of times in surviving texts.  Beautiful water nymphs, guardians of springs, sweet and benevolent.”  You can hear how benevolent means beautiful; mortals and their ridiculous obsession with physical attractiveness.  A shift in the shadows, as if the owner of the voice is gesturing to you, your overlarge eyes and tight-furled ears and anglerfish teeth.  “Clearly none of it’s reliable.  So unless you want to summon your reaper friend and ask firsthand…?”

The killer-child’s eyes roll upward.  “Jealousy’s a bad look on you, Sammy.”  Gaze flicking back down, assessing.  “Whatever.  We can figure this out.  It’s a water creature, right?  What happens if we pull it from the water?”  

There’s another set of eyes peering down through the grate at you, now, and for the first time you feel a thrill of genuine dread.  The eyes are canny, thoughtful, the sort that see through illusions and into the heart of things.  A hero’s eyes—and the tales are full of stories of what happens to those who land opposite a hero. 

“It goes into a sort of hibernation,” the hero answers, still watching you.  “Dehydrates—like frog eggs, it’ll just seal up and wait until there’s water again.  There’s stories of dried ones being passed around as sideshow curiosities, until an unwary tourist spills their drink on it—”

Dehydrates.  The word fills your mind and your throat with dry dust.  A last resort, a sort of living death, half-aware, helpless, cut off from the world—your legs churn at the water, and you bare your inhuman teeth and surge up towards the grate.  A partial victory—the killer-child shies back, taken by surprise.  Still, the smart one is unfazed by your display of hostility; it continues looking, weighing, assessing.  Contemplating.

“Shame.  I always wanted to do a shady deal with a carnival barker for a questionable item.”  The killer-child’s voice trickles down through the grate.  “Well, we know distilled water holds it.  Can it drown?”

Drowning.  You would laugh, if you had the spare breath to do so.  These are such petty mortals.  Not demigods, barely even heroes, working from scraps of myth and broken pieces of knowledge that have survived through the years.  You should’ve heeded your sisters’ advice not to prey upon humans—they’re clever, those overgrown apes, they’d said, and persistent, and demanding.  Be glad they’ve largely forgotten about us—but you’d been so lonely—

“If you want to stick your arm in there and hold its head under the water, be my guest.”  The second voice is a different kind of dry, now.  The eyes are still watching you, in a way you don’t particularly like; you refrain from baring your teeth again, merely stare back, defiant.  “Dean,” the voice says, still  holding your gaze.  “I think it’s intelligent.”

“It’s a monster, Sam. They don’t really perceive the world the way we do.”

“Maybe not.  But it’s following our conversation.”  A short silence, a few breaststrokes, the silent water pressing against the webbing between your fingers, the silent whirring of a mortal mind working.  “I don’t think this is a nereid.”

“That’d explain why we’re not seeing the ‘lovely of face and shapely of form’, I guess.  And here I thought ol’ Shelley just had really specific tastes.”  The dead eyes are back, curious.  “So, what is it?”

“Something much older.”  There’s a strange tone in the voice, respect mixed with awe.  So.  The smart one knows at least a little of his catechism.  “I think this might be an oceanid.”

Eyes narrowed in suspicion.  “What’s the difference?”

“About the same as the difference between a rainstorm and a hurricane.”  A shift; the hero drawing back, slightly, having finally realized the danger.  “Nereids are the spirits of wells, springs, other small, friendly sources of water.  Oceanids embody the ocean—they control the weather, the fish harvest, things like that.  Sailors would sacrifice to them to ensure good weather for a voyage.  They’re…not so much spirits as full-on elementals.  Minor gods.” 

“Shit.”  There’s a pause, as the killer-child digests this.  “I don’t suppose a holly stake would do the trick this time?”

The hero doesn’t answer.  Another several breaths, several strokes, several kicks.  Your body feels heavier, the deadened water tricking your perceptions; the slowed movements of your limbs don’t escape the smart one’s gaze.  “You’re cut off,” the smart one murmurs.  “What happens when you run out of energy?  Or simply out of will?”  The eyes finally leave your face, as he addresses his partner.  “I think we should leave it here.”

“And risk some spelunker stumbling into the cave and finding it?” That whining disappointment again, the killer robbed of his favorite game.

“Better than risking it escaping when we try to move it.”  Another thoughtful pause.  “We could cave in the entrance.  With any luck, nobody will find it for decades.  Centuries, even.”

You’re trying not to panic.  The pool in which they’ve trapped you is not large, but the sides are slick, and of course there’s the iron grates covering each opening…and you’re all too aware that there’s no one to hear you scream.  

You’re alone.

You’re alone when the two pairs of eyes withdraw.

You’re alone when the rocks come tumbling down.

You’re alone in the darkness that remains.

Kick.  Kick.  Push, pull.  Inhale, exhale.  Keep your head held high.  Don’t think about how heavy your body feels, don’t imagine the sterile water sapping your energy.  That way lies madness.

Think of the revenge you’ll wreak, on the hero and the killer-child.   On everyone and everything they love.  A hurricane will be but a grain of sand to the sheer scope of your anger.  Poets will sing songs of it for generations.

For now, you just have to keep kicking.