#Efficient Pool Designs

[dantechnologie]

Best Swimming Pool Manufacturers: Space-Saving Tips and Ideas for Small Backyards

Having a swimming pool in your backyard is a luxury that many homeowners dream of, but if you have a small yard, you might feel like it's impossible to make it happen. Thankfully, with careful planning and the right design ideas, even the most compact spaces can be transformed into a beautiful, functional oasis. In this article, we’ll explore space-saving tips and creative ideas for designing a swimming pool that fits perfectly in your small backyard. Plus, we’ll highlight how choosing the best swimming pool manufacturers, like Dan Technologies, can make all the difference in bringing your vision to life.

1. Assess Your Available Space

Before jumping into the design process, it's essential to assess how much space you have available. A small backyard can still accommodate a pool, but it’s all about optimizing that space. Take measurements of your yard and visualize how a pool would fit into the layout. Keep in mind any existing structures like patios, gardens, or outdoor furniture that need to be factored in.

For very small backyards, you may want to consider compact pool designs such as plunge pools, lap pools, or even swim spas. These types of pools take up less space but still provide all the benefits of having a pool.

2. Consider the Shape of Your Pool

When it comes to smaller backyards, the shape of the pool is crucial. A rectangular or lap pool is often the best option for a tight space. These pools can fit neatly along one side of your yard, providing a long, narrow swimming area that doesn’t dominate the entire space.

If you're looking for something a bit more unique, consider custom shapes like an L-shape or a geometric design that blends well with your landscape. These shapes are often more flexible in fitting into smaller, irregular spaces while still offering an aesthetically pleasing look.

3. Opt for a Plunge Pool or Cocktail Pool

If space is tight, a plunge pool or cocktail pool might be the perfect solution. These smaller, shallow pools are ideal for cooling off, soaking, and relaxing without taking up too much room. Plunge pools can be designed with modern features like built-in jets or fountains for added relaxation.

A plunge pool is usually between 5 to 8 feet wide, so it can fit into even the smallest backyards. With the right design, it can still offer a chic and luxurious vibe while being space-efficient.

4. Maximize Vertical Space

In a small backyard, you need to get creative with how you use every inch of space. Vertical space is an often overlooked area that can be maximized to create a more expansive feel. Consider adding walls or fences with built-in shelves, planters, or even vertical garden systems around your pool area.

Incorporating a vertical garden or climbing plants around your pool area can help soften the hard lines of the pool while providing privacy. This creates a more intimate and cozy atmosphere while keeping the design minimalist and streamlined.

5. Incorporate Multi-Function Features

To make the most of your pool and backyard space, think about incorporating multi-functional elements. For instance, you can choose a pool design that doubles as a hot tub or an infinity edge that enhances the visual appeal while making the pool feel more expansive.

You can also install a pool with a built-in lounging area, which will give you extra room to relax without needing to use up additional space for furniture. By combining multiple functions into one area, you’ll maximize both space and utility.

6. Use Lighter Colors to Create the Illusion of Space

In small spaces, the color scheme you choose can significantly affect how large or small the area feels. Lighter colors like whites, light blues, and soft grays can make a small pool area look bigger and more open. Opting for light-colored pool tiles, walls, and decking can help open up the space and create the illusion of more room.

In contrast, dark colors tend to make a small space feel more enclosed, so they should be used sparingly in smaller backyards.

7. Consider the Pool’s Surroundings

While focusing on the pool itself is essential, don’t forget about its surrounding area. Choose landscaping elements that complement the pool without overwhelming the space. Go for minimalist designs with clean lines and choose plants that won’t grow too large or block natural light.

Opt for modern, low-maintenance materials like stone or composite decking, which can give your pool area a sleek and contemporary look. Consider built-in seating or hidden storage that can help keep the area organized and clutter-free.

Read more: Top 10 Important Questions to Ask Before Hiring a Swimming Pool Manufacturer

8. Select the Right Pool Manufacturer

Once you have a design idea in mind, the next step is selecting a pool manufacturer who can bring your vision to life. Choosing a reliable and experienced manufacturer is crucial to ensure that your pool is built with quality materials, designed to fit your space, and installed efficiently.

One of the best swimming pool manufacturers in the industry is Dan Technologies. Their innovative designs and expertise in custom pool solutions make them an excellent choice for homeowners with small backyards. With a focus on quality, aesthetics, and functionality, Dan Technologies can help you design a pool that maximizes your available space while staying within your budget.

9. Maximize Functionality with Smart Pool Technology

Incorporating modern pool technology can also enhance your small pool’s functionality. For example, automated pool systems allow you to control temperature, lighting, and cleaning schedules from your smartphone, helping you save time and energy. LED lighting can also add a stylish touch to your pool, making it a beautiful focal point in the evening without taking up any additional space.

10. Work with a Professional Designer

If you're unsure about how to optimize your small backyard for a swimming pool, consider working with a professional pool designer. They can offer expert advice on layouts, design features, and the best materials for small spaces. Professional designers, like those affiliated with Dan Technologies, can ensure that your pool not only fits your space but also complements your overall landscape and lifestyle.

Conclusion

Designing a swimming pool for a small backyard doesn’t have to be a challenge. By thinking creatively about the shape, size, and surrounding elements, you can create a beautiful and functional pool area that maximizes your space. Remember, working with the best swimming pool manufacturers like Dan Technologies will ensure that your pool is built with the highest standards of quality and craftsmanship. With the right design and expert guidance, you can enjoy the luxury of having a pool in your small backyard, no matter how limited your space may be.

[bitcoinversus]

Mining Algorithms: ASICKey Unveils Advanced Cryptocurrency Miners

ASICKey has introduced a new lineup of cryptocurrency miners, including the KEYMINER A1, KEYMINER X, and KEYMINER PRO, all utilizing advanced 3nm ASIC technology to deliver high hash rates with reduced power consumption. The entry-level KEYMINER A1 offers a hash rate of 1100 TH/s for Bitcoin while consuming just 650 W of power, reportedly generating monthly profits of $1,200 for Bitcoin, $2,900…

[renegadeelectrics]

SPA and pool Controls in New Zealand - Renegade Electrics - Automation + Control Limited

Renegade Electrics specializes in the automation of your SPA and pool controls. Experience ultimate convenience and efficiency as our expert solutions seamlessly manage and optimize your water features. Trust us to elevate your relaxation experience, bringing innovation and precision to your SPA and pool automation needs.

[ivys-garden]

More Minecraft ideas, what part of Minecraft needs improvement?

You're wrong, it's ponds.

Ponds, lakes, lava pools. They all suck in Minecraft, they end up just being big holes in the ground with nothing interesting about them that make the landscape ugly and hole ridden

Now you might say “Ivy, literally no one cares” and to that I say, wheesht and accept my ramblings ya donut

So, how do we fix Ponds? It's simply really: make ponds generated structures.

Ponds would now be generated structures taking up one chunk, with an actual human made design to make them, you know, look good. There would be, say, 100 or so different designs to stop them looking to samey (they'd be so small that something like that would be feasible)

Lakes would be done similarly, only with the key difference, they would be made up of 4 chunk “cells”, each making up a corner of the lake.

ponds and lakes in plains or forest biomes would be made of blocks like mud and dirt.

Ponds and lakes in deserts (or oases if you want) would be made up of grass and sand

Ponds and lakes in tundras would be frozen over on the top layer of the water and with clay spawning around the water

Now, let's see some things that can be found in ponds and lakes:

Frogs

Nothing new here, frogs and frogspawn are most common ponds, pond frogs also only come in the green frog varietie.

Perhaps the oasis can have a desert rain frog variant that gives a purple frog light

Toads

Toads and toad spawn can be found in lakes and ponds in forest and plains biomes. Toads emerge from toad spawn in the same way frogs do. Toads have an exaggerated size, being double the size of the frog

Toads come in several colours (Green, Brown, Yellow, Orange and Lime) but these colours do not harbour any game mechanics (in other words: sorry but there are no toadlights)

Toads will eat all mobs with wings, that being the Parrot, Chicken, Phantom, Bat, Bee and the player if they are wearing an elytra, so watch out.

All the aforementioned mobs are scared of Toads, making them and effective deterrent to phantoms in particular

Cattails, Reeds, Rice, Algae and Papyrus

I'll just do all the plant life stuff at once (these will generate dependent on the pond or lake cell)

Algae is a new decorative blocks that can be placed on water

It will connect to other blocks, creating an unbroken surface across the water

Algae has a bright green hue and can be found in both ponds and lakes with the same frequency

Papyrus is a new plant that spawns naturally in the oasis, it is used as a more efficient way of making paper as it can be bonemealed and only one papyrus is needed to make paper

Rice is a plant that grows in water in lakes and ponds spawning in cherry groves.

Rice can be used in two recipes:

Rice Bowls:Putting rice, a bowl and any meat together will craft a rice bowl

This food source that can be eaten twice, eating the meat and then the rice

Sushi: putting rice, dried kelp and one fish into a crafting table creates Sushi, a foodsoarch that can be eaten instantly without playing the eating animation, not very nutritious but good in a pinch

Cattails are a purely decorative plant found in ponds and swamps

Reeds are more common around rivers and lakes, being a fern like plant that grows two tall.

Reeds can be used to craft a new item: Pan Pipes

Combining 3 reeds and 3 string will create pan pipes, these can be played to draw passive mobs towards you so long as the button to play them is held down.

Pan Pipes can also calm neutral mobs like wolves, iron golems and bees, but doing this instantly focus the Pan pipes into cool down

Pan pipes have a cool down double that of the Goat Horn

Bagpipes

By putting Pan Pipes, 3 iron nuggets, 3 red wool and 3 green wool together you can make Bagpipes.

Bagpipes have durability on top of having the same level of cool down as Pan Pipes. Bagpipes cannot be enchanted.

Bagpipes have the ability to PERMANENTLY pacify all hostile mobs in the chunk the player is in.

Bagpipes will break after 10 or so uses

Willow and Palm

Willow and palm are new wood types, Willow spawns around lakes and ponds and Palm spawns around oases.

Willow has a dark Bluish-green colour, complementing mangrove, where as Palm is a desaturated pale white

(These will generate depending on the pond or lake cell)

(Part 1/3)

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 6

We're back on schedule with this and for whatever reason, it always seems to get ahead of the other stories so I have a lot in backlog for this one.

In this we have Steve trying to find people to work for Eddie.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

~

The gardeners were the first people he hired. A brother duo named Jonathan and Will Byers. The younger brother would design what they wanted the garden to look like, which they would email to Eddie to get checked off on and then both of them would go to town.

Within their first week a lot the debris had been cleared away and they had began trimming back the foliage that would do damage to the property.

Steve immediately bargained for more money for them after that. They deserved it after the mess they had to clean up was quickly and efficiently taken care of.

The groundsman was a gruff, older guy who looked like he had just walked off the set of “The Secret Garden”. His name was Jim Hopper and was happy to move into the groundskeeper’s house on the property. It had been there since the house had been built and Eddie had revamped into to a sort of mother-in-law suite.

The problem he was running into was finding a pool company that hadn’t black listed the address because apparently Ethan liked harassing them, male or female. Asking them to wear skimpy clothes to clean it, putting leaves in the pool so they would have to fish it out with their long nets meaning they would have to lean over a lot, and so on.

Steve was about ready to give up when he found a guy just starting out. He didn’t have any clients yet and was willing to at least take a look at the pool.

He nearly sobbed with relief.

When the man arrived, Steve was pleased to find a well-dressed black man with a shiny new truck and all new equipment. In bright blue lettering on the side of the truck was Sinclair’s Cleaning Service and underneath was a couple of the things they did, like gutters, driveways, gullies, and of course pools.

He wore cargo pants and a polo shirt with the logo on the front with the name Charles underneath and had a bright smile on his face when he greeted Steve with a firm handshake.

“I hope you don’t mind me bringing my son along,” Charles said indicating his meek shadow. “My daughter Erica caught a cold so my wife is taking her to the doctor’s to see if we can’t get her some medicine. But I couldn’t leave him at home and Sue didn’t want to take him with her.”

“Because I would be bored, Dad,” the boy huffed.

Charles chuckled. “Because he would be bored. Say hello, Lucas.”

“Hi, Mr. Harrington,” Lucas said. “This is a pretty nice house you’ve got here.”

Steve smiled at him. “It’s not my house,” he said wistfully, “I’m just a cog in the machine that helps it run. Think of me as...” he tapped his lips thoughtfully, “the house steward. I’m taking care of all the hiring of staff for the owner, Eddie Munson.”

“And he’ll be the one paying the bill?” Charles asked as Steve led them all the way to the back where the pool was.

“That’s right,” Steve said, opening the back gate to let them through. “There is place to store anything you need so that you don’t have lug heavy stuff back here every time.” He pointed to the shack off the side of the pool. He had paid Jonathan and Hopper extra to help him clean it out.

“Looks good,” Charles said, opening the door to see inside. “The pool isn’t a weird shape, so that helps. Strange color of the water though.”

“Water’s clear,” Steve assured him. “The owner just had the floor of the pool painted red instead of blue.”

Charles and Lucas shared raised eyebrows. “Did he now?”

“Yup!” Steve said with a grin. “You’ll be able to see for yourself on the times you have to drain it.”

Lucas picked up a plastic measuring cup and dipped it in the water, clearly not quite believing Steve that the water wasn’t red. The giggle he gave when the water came out clear made Steve grin.

“Well, I’ll be,” Charles huffed. He turned to Steve. “I think I’m the man for the job.” He stuck out his hand and Steve shook it.

“It appears you are,” he said with a smile. “Hey, Lucas, there’s another boy here around your age, helping his older brother with the gardening. Would you like to meet him?”

Lucas looked over at his dad, who nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Steve led the way to the main garden where Will and Jonathan trimming the shrubbery. The one they were currently working on was the Beetlejuice snake.

“Hey, Jonathan!” Steve called out. “Will! Come meet our new pool peeps.”

Both boys shared a glance but put their trimmers down and came over.

“Will and Jonathan Byers, our gardeners extraordinaire,” Steve introduced. “Meet Charles and Lucas Sinclair. If you need anything you can ask each other if you can’t find me.”

“Lucas is about start high school,” Charles prompted. “How old are you, Will?”

Will looked over at Jonathan unsure if he should say.

“He’s fourteen,” Jonathan answered for him, ruffling his hair. “He’s starting high school this year, too. He’s just a March baby, so he’ll be younger then his peers.”

Will stuck his tongue out at his brother.

“You’ll forgive me, Jonathan,” Charles said gently, “but you don’t look much older than he is.”

Jonathan laughed. “I’m older than I look. I went to high school with Steve-o here. My parents had Will as ‘let’s a have another baby to fix our failing relationship’ ploy. The business was my dad’s.”

Charles looked over at Steve and raised an eyebrow. Steve didn’t look much older than the two teens either.

“I’m twenty-five,” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips. “I am,” he insisted when Charles and Lucas gave him matching disbelieving looks.

Jonathan cleared his throat in to the resulting awkwardness. “Yeah, let’s just say that didn’t work out and my mom got the lawn and garden business in the divorce because she put the time and effort into it, and he drank the profits. Then when I turned eighteen, I took it over. This is Will’s first year helping me out.”

“You two the only employees?” Lucas asked tilting his head to the side. “I mean I get with my dad, he’s just starting out, but you’ve been doing this for years.”

“No,” Jonathan snorted. “But to gardens this impressive and important, I’m not going to let anyone near them but me and Will. I had the whole team out to clean things up but for maintenance and design I take care of it and Will helps.”

Lucas just shrugged his shoulders. “It’s your funeral, man.”

“Bigger places than this,” Steve huffed, “have been handled by lesser men than Jonathan Byers. I wouldn’t have hired him if I didn’t think he could do the job.” He patted Jonathan on the arm.

Jonathan blushed and ducked his head. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Do you like D&D?” Will suddenly blurted out like he couldn’t contain his nerdiness any longer.

Both Jonathan and Steve braced for rejection, but Lucas lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Hell yeah!” he cried. “I have a level thirteen half-elf ranger. But the other half isn’t human, it’s a teifling!”

“Whoa!” Will said, eyes wide. “I didn’t know you could do that!”

Suddenly both boys were off rambling about stat blocks and armor proficiency and the three adults turned to each other.

“Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?” Charles asked with a grimace. “He always goes too fast for me to understand.”

Jonathan held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me, I was the loner artsy type in high school, I didn’t do that nerd crap.”

Steve held his thumb and forefinger close together. “I know a little bit. It’s really popular with the kids now days. Especially after that TV show came out and had all the main characters playing it.”

“Better you than me,” Jonathan huffed. “Nancy’s little brother and Will used to play all the time, but they lost their GM or something and haven’t been able to play since.”

Steve nodded. “I think they prefer DM in D&D, but GM works.” He stopped and turned to interrupt the stream of D&D coming from Will and Lucas. “How many people do you need to play again?”

Lucas and Will paused for a moment.

“Counting the DM?” Will asked and Steve nodded. “Um...four to five ideally but can have up to seven comfortably.”

“So if you, Lucas and Mike all play,” Steve said slowly, licking his lips over his sly smile, “then you would want to have one more to make it ideal?”

“Why?” Lucas scoffed, “Do you just happen to have someone who could play?”

“Yes.”

Both boys looked at each other and then back at Steve, aghast.

“There is no way,” Lucas huffed, putting his hand on his hips.

“I’d have to ask Eddie,” Steve said, motioning all of them to follow him. He led them through the house, “but I’m pretty sure he’d be thrilled to let you use it.”

He opened a door that was just off from the kitchen on the other side of the theater room. In it was everything a tabletop gamer could want. It had row upon row of books on the shelves. Tables to put snacks on. Dice of every color imaginable and figures of every race, class, and monster type were in carefully labeled small drawers. But the centerpiece, the crowning glory of the room; a long table that had a town laid out on it, complete with the squares for combat and movement.

“Holy shit!” Lucas swore, his eyes wide, blocking the doorway.

Charles, who could see over the top of his son. “I’ll allow it this once, but otherwise, watch your language.”

Will pushed Lucas out of the way to see into the room, too. “Oh. Um. That’s just...wow.”

Steve ushered them into the room. “I don’t doubt there would be certain things off limits and I would have to be here to supervise, at least while Eddie is gone. But feel free to look around. I wouldn’t touch though.”

Lucas and Will ran into the room filled with glee. Will went straight the mini-figures and Lucas went to the table.

“Gosh, Steve,” Charles said, “are you sure that the owner will be all right letting the boys play in here? It all looks so expensive, I shudder to think what would happen if they broke something.”

To Charles’s surprise it was Jonathan that chuckled and shook his head. “Nothing. He buys a new one and carries on like nothing happened. Will broke one of the two Gate of Kings statues at the opening of the hedge maze. He had a new one out the next day. Didn’t say shit about Will breaking it. Just it happened, move on.”

Charles still looked skeptical so Steve pulled out his phone. “Hey, Eddie. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time. Yep, he’s taking the job. Yeah, he has a fifteen year old son named Lucas who is going to be helping out. No, no. Nothing like that. Will let it slip he likes D&D and that spawned Lucas liking it. Of course I did. I didn’t even have to ask, yes. That’s why I’m calling. Brilliant, thank you. Yep. We’ll talk at bed time as always. Bye.”

“Now all I have to do is call my friend Dustin,” he said with broad smile. “He was my first nannying job and is about their age. I kept in contact with him and his mom because they’re good people. He was just complaining the other day that his school shut down their D&D club and none of the other former members were interested in trying to keep it alive.”

Just then Will came up to him and hugged him. “Thanks, Steve. This is going to be so awesome. Mike is absolutely going to flip his shit.”

Steve ruffled Will’s hair and smiled. “Oh yeah, I totally have to be there when he sees it for the first time.”

Charles brought his chin in and looked at Steve for a moment. “It sounds as though you hired your friend to the do the gardening job instead of the best man for the job.”

“Dad,” Lucas warned, “if you ruin this for me, I will never speak to you again. He already said that Jonathan and his team was the best for the job. Youth doesn’t mean lack of experience. He’s been doing the landscaping thing for seven years. You’ve only been doing the cleaning thing for a month.”

Charles ducked his head. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. Especially just having agreed to the job for you and all.”

“Apology accepted,” Jonathan said with a nod. “Come on, Will we really do have to get back to work. I’ll get you Steve’s number later and he can help you coordinate this all for you guys.”

Will nodded and after swapping numbers with Lucas, followed his brother out the door.

Charles smiled at Lucas. “Aren’t you glad I made you come today?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he huffed. “I only set off the fire alarm that once and that was because the bacon grease dripped onto the gas flame. It’s not my fault you and mom decided to come home at that exact moment.”

Steve burst out laughing. “That’s the worst, kid. But yeah, it’ll be in your thirties before you live that one down.”

Charles shook hands with Steve and said they would be back on Saturday to start the pool cleaning.

Steve watched as they walked away. He just need to call Dustin and lure him over here. A picture of the D&D room would do just the trick.

~

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Tag List: SEVEN REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @tartarusknight @gregre369

2- ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch

4- @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @ollieolive @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

8- @sadisticaltarts @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dolphincliffs @steddie-as-they-go @steddieislife

9- @kultiras @morallyundefined @themoonagainstmers @fearieshadow @blondie1006

10- @thesecondfate

[quinnred]

Fan concept for Rythaze's Repha project. Nephilim super soldiers require a LOT of energy to support their bodies, and so need large and efficient food portions.

One solution for this issue was the Meal Pig, a genetically modified domestic pig designed to grow large and grow quickly with enough meat and fat to easily feed Nephilim soldiers.

Meal Pigs are placed in shallow pools that support their massive weight and feed on high nutrient slop to sustain their size. Their elongated snout acts as a snorkel as they feed on their submerged food.

Meal Pigs are designed with segmented surface fat and meat "packets" for easy and fast butchery.

[throneofsapphics]

track 32

Fenrys x Reader x Lorcan

Summary: Cursed to fall in love, only to have everything ripped away from you, moving on to your next life already feels like a drag, only things don't quite follow their usual patterns.

Warnings: discussions of death, Maeve, brief description of torture, happy ending

Word Count: 8077

A/N: the HAPPIEST of birthdays to @whisperingmidnights <3 I hope you have an amazing day (& thank you to @rowaelinsdaughter for your help)

You tumbled into your new body. Again. At least this time the Gods let you skip through the childhood years, instead flooding your mind with memories of your new past. You could only be a toddler so many times before truly losing the last grip on your sanity. 

You’d think so much pain and suffering would flood together, the lives all melting into one giant messed up pot but instead each experience remained distinctly painful to you. Distinctly full of suffering and sour memories. You, obviously, hadn’t survived a single one and your trek across the multiverse was written in blood. 

It took you up until life 15 to really stop holding onto so many grudges, especially considering you seemed to be destined to fall for the same people each time. Not the same types of people, but the actual same person. 

Whoever put a curse on you had been clever. If you were cursed, perhaps you were just really damn unlucky. But right now you needed a bath, a hot meal, and a good night’s rest. Of course you were drunk. Fresh in from a night out on the town with one of your friends, but you had good some good fortune in this life - your own apartment. 

Tossing clothes off as you walked, you beelined towards where you knew the bathing room was. You were pretty certain you’d stayed in this exact apartment building before, and if you remembered correctly each apartment had near identical layouts, the entire building cheap and designed for efficiency. In this life, you’d made it your own more than in the previous ones. 

You stepped into the tub, let the cold water hit your toes, partially sobering you, rivulets of now psycho-somatic grime and blood streaming from your body to pool in clear water at your feet. 

A mind healer would have a field day with you and you knew it all too well. 

Plugging the drain, you adjusted it to reach the perfect temperature. Yes, an efficiency building but still had hot running water. It was odd, but you didn’t question it - you were a creature of comfort after all. 

You wondered when you’d see them again. You wished you could say that tall of your interactions started off on a fresh beat, that you had it together enough not to judge them based on versions of them in a different universe, but you weren’t. 

Having it together? Maybe, certainly not on that level though. Having it together enough to appreciate their presence at this moment? Hell no. 

After last time. 

“We’re done,” he mumbled, not willing to make eye contact with you. 

“Then say it to my face,” you glanced between both of them. 

Heads down. Eyes downcast - first time you’d seen them like that. 

“Then I really meant that little, didn’t I?”

“No,” one said - you could barely distinguish who through the raging steam in your ears and tears down your cheeks. 

“Yes,” the other said. You didn’t know or care who said what. It didn’t matter. Later, just before the death took you you’d find out who made them do it and realize it still didn’t matter. She may have forced them to lie, but they didn’t have to be quite so convincing. 31 lives had taught you logic had no place in heartbreak. 

The memory hit you like a physical blow to the chest, a stinging and pressure left in its wake. That heartbreak had killed you the quickest of them all. 

Three days. 

It was part of your curse, you’d figured out. To always know. What life you were on, the details of your past lives, how long it took you to do, what the death felt like, every little detail was committed to memory all because you’d dared to love someone a little too much, and ended up stealing them away from a wicked witch. 

Well, the story didn’t go quite like that but you thought it sounded better in your head that way. In reality, you’d fallen in love and done something stupid, as all people in love do from time to time. 

You and Lorcan had agreed you should try to get Fenrys out, that although it would be more difficult to get him released, Fenrys needed it more. You didn’t have the guts to tell him you needed both of them like you needed air, but there hadn’t been time for that. All of your moments were stolen and borrowed time. 

“Will you please release him from your service?” You were on your knees, begging. “Please, Majesty.” 

The harsh flooring dug into your knees but you kept the same subservient pose. For someone with so much pride, this was humiliating and your Queen knew it. 

“No.” 

One flat and toneless word. 

“No?” You repeated. 

Wicked red lips curved into a smile. “That is what I said.” 

You had several choice words for her after, and she’d responded with a fucking curse. Cursed to always love, but to never have it stick, cursed to die from heartbreak. 

Even after all of these lives the word ‘curse’ was still ugly in your mouth, still made your stomach heave and back seize at the memories. The times you’ve run into the Queen she hadn’t recognized you, but you knew she was still untouchable. Frequently made that way by the ones you loved. 

The breeze sneaking through the poorly insulated window highlighted how water already chilled around you. You didn’t miss that part of this building, the tub held next to no heat and your bathwater always ended up cold in less than fifteen minutes. 

You were tempted to stay still and prune, but there was no use in it. A new life, new things to do. 

Dragging yourself out of the tub, you dried off as efficiently as you could make yourself, scrounged up some comfortable clothes and headed to your desk. Grabbing a notepad and pen, you began writing. 

number thirty-one. 

It was a ritual of sorts, perhaps your imaginary mind healer would be proud of you for it, for getting all of your pain out on paper as soon as possible. 

Right before you burned it. 

Tossing the five sheets of paper on the flames felt good.

Running into them happened far too quickly for your liking. It always did. Life always started and finished too damn fast. 

You glanced in the mirror, at what you’d chosen to wear for the night out with your not-really-new friends. The dress fit you perfectly, and showed just enough to leave you feeling bold without being uncomfortable. The gold wrapped around your wrists helped too. Not too much to look rob worthy, but enough to make you feel like some extra type of sheen was thrown over you. Maybe, just maybe this life would bring you a little luck. Was gold supposed to be good luck? You didn’t know, but maybe you’d figure out how to look it up later. If you remembered to. 

You felt something warm in your chest, not unlike the flush from the first sip of whiskey. Closing your eyes you could’ve sworn it tugged, dragged you towards another. 

No, not in this or any life. It wasn’t possible. 

No matter how many times you fell in love and in how many ways, you’d never found a mate and were convinced you were destined not to. 31 lives was enough time to find a mate, a life partner. You should’ve had that done in by life 10. 

It was funny, how you’d started measuring your existence in lives rather than years. After all, it fit your circumstances. Permanently destined to be a temporary existence in others lives, and for their existence and influence to end yours. If there was a way out of this, a stopping or breaking of the curse you figured you would’ve found it by now. 

A loud pounding on the door and you hissed as the brush slipped, you barely moving your wrist away in time to save your face from a large black streak. 

“Gods,” you yelled, “hold on a damn moment.” 

“We’re going to miss the bard,” someone - Ella? Yes, Ella, shouted back. 

“Alright,” you groused loud enough for her to hear, “one moment.” 

One more swipe of kohl and you looked ready. A few deep breaths and you felt ready. 

Shoving the cosmetics to the back of the counter, you swung yourself around the doorway, grabbing your coat off the hook and flinging open the front door, finding your friend posed with their fist menacingly mid-air, probably about to break your door down. Memory clicked in, reminding you they can be a tad aggressive on a mission. 

Their mouth curved into a too-satisfied smirk, probably that their threats had work. Rolling your eyes, you shoved past them into the hall, quickly locking your door. 

“Anyone else for tonight?” 

“Just us,” they looped their arm through yours and started for the stairs. 

Ugh. Last time in this building you’d been on the ground floor, and you’d definitely miss the convenience of that, but at least you had a pretty balcony view here. It’s all give and take, you supposed. 

“Copper for your thoughts?” Ella’s voice interrupted you. 

How long had you zoned out? Was that a habit in this lifetime? You couldn’t remember. 

“Do I really look that broke?” You deflected. 

It worked, she laughed. Maybe it would’ve been nice if she pushed a little. 

-

Fenrys breathed in the fresh air. Maeve had sent him on a mission. Alone. Staking out Varese for several months, observing, but she didn’t exactly tell him what to look for. It was perhaps the most exciting and infuriating mission he’d been assigned. Infuriating, because he truly had no idea what in Hellas’s name he was supposed to do, exciting because he had months to spend doing whatever he thought ‘observing’ looked like. 

Yes, he knew it was a mockery of freedom but right now he’d take the gods-damned mockery over what he’s stuck in every day. 

Walking through the street, although he stuck to the shadows, unnoticed to the masses, it still felt like each face was sent there to tease him, remind him of the invisible leash tying him to that bitch for the rest of his life. He didn’t know how Lorcan, the bastard, did it with such glee and joy. At least Whitethorn had shown a measure of discontent at some point, he’d even seen a hint of it on perfectly loyal Gavriel’s face. 

Something caught his attention. Someone. 

Arm in arm with your friend, strolling down the street, exuding pure confidence. Someone aware of their place in this world and what they meant to it. The light in your eyes matched his own. Dimmed, flaring when necessary and just enough to keep up appearances. 

Only a fellow fraud would recognize it. 

He had to follow. It was insanity, but he needed to see more of you. 

That’s how he ended up nursing a drink in the corner of the bar, shadows wreathed around him, cloak pulled up to cover his face. He matched some of the many body guards of nobles around, and through some blessing not a soul had recognized him or even shot him a second glance. Perhaps Friday’s were quite a popular night for the elite to pretend, that or he’d gotten better at blending in. He didn’t know which to put his money on. 

Someone, however, caught all of the attention - including his, even when he tried to ignore the magnetic attraction tugging him towards you. Throwing your head back in a laugh, you danced along with your friend, clothing absolutely sinful and fitting right in. He loved it. Every part of your energy felt like it was tugging at him, urging him closer, closer, closer, and he realized just how dangerous that made you. 

Dangerous to him, and to yourself through him. 

No matter what, she hung over him like a storm cloud. 

Anything he might try to pursue with you would end before it could truly began, love or relationship cut off at its knees without a chance to truly blossom. Did he actually want it to? Could Fenrys actually be that selfish? 

Yes, if it came to you. He glanced down at his pint. Still half full, and rather weak shit. He wasn’t drunk but still managed to think complete nonsense. Nothing could happen, but for now he supposed it couldn’t hurt to imagine a fantasy life with a stranger he’d never see again live in the corner of his mind, so long as it it stayed there. He was so, so wrong. 

-

Lorcan Salvaterre knew about sacrifice. In fact, he was an expert at it, at this point. But, every bit was worth it for her. His Queen. The only female he’d truly loved to the point where he’d do anything and everything. 

Perhaps other love could have come his way, but it had never been the right time. Timing, in his opinion, shouldn’t matter. He’d always make the time for Maeve, and everything he’d done since meeting her had been for her. When she ordered him away, he left. When she kept him by her side - but never her bed - he stayed. Maeve said jump, he asked how high. 

That's why Lorcan was trying to figure out when in Hellas he’d become so disillusioned, starting thinking things so unlike him. He couldn’t tell her, couldn’t tell anyone. Lorcan didn’t have any friends or confidants, that wasn’t something he dealt in. To him, there was no purpose in friends when his entire life’s purpose was bound by blood to servitude. 

The closest thing he had to friends was his blood brothers, and like hell he’d ever tell them of this ... treachery waging war inside of his mind. 

Lunch swirled unpleasantly in his stomach as he thought of the word. Treason. 

When Maeve called him to the throne room, when he knelt before her, he mentally prepared himself for his immortal life to end rather early. She must know. She always knows. 

Instead, he needed to figure out how he’d pissed her off because she’d sent him off for some kind of torturous punishment. Keeping an eye on Fenrys, currently loose in Varese. 

“Anything I should watch out for in particular, majesty?” He was quite proud of how he kept the bitterness from his tone. Or thought he did. 

“You’ll know if you see something off,” she dismissed him with a wave. “Consider it a vacation, of sorts.” 

Blood sworn didn’t get vacations, he wanted to protest. He didn’t want - or need one. Had he really been slacking that much? The journey would provide adequate time for reflection, for him to dissect and figure out exactly where he’d gone wrong so he could prevent those mistakes in the future. That was essential. This trip however, like most things with Fenrys, would probably turn out to be a complete waste of his time. Time that could be spent doing much better things. But ... he supposed if this is what his Queen wanted him to do, it was exactly what he’d be doing, regardless of his feelings on the subject. His feeling always had been, and always would be inconsequential.

He was here. Already. Fuck. 

It was day 2, and you couldn’t catch a break. Is there such thing as a resting life? One where you could go through without any relationships, just peace and enjoying your moments of solitude? No, not for someone like you. 

Running away from them never worked, they would haunt your every movement until they consumed every last bit of you and scattered crumbs on the wind, only for the crumbs to reform and drag you back towards them. 

Do you embrace fate or run away from it? It was inevitable, what was the point in fighting anymore? You were so tired of it. Exhaustion rippled from you in waves, you were surprised everyone around you hadn’t noticed as soon as you walked in. 

Even if you wanted to, Fate, in the form of the most gorgeous man to exist, all bronze skin, onyx eyes, and golden hair, didn’t give you a choice. He slid into the bar stool next to you. 

You didn’t smile, at first, but your traitorous heart warmed in his presence. 

“Have we met before?” He said, jokingly. 

If only he knew. 

“Maybe in your dreams,” you slid your hand across the bar and grabbed your glass, drinking deeply. He winced. 

“Am I that bad of company?” 

“You’ve been here for,” you glanced at the clock pointedly, “a minute. It has nothing to do with you.” You’d tried every approach in the past to get them to see if it would deter them enough for them to circumvent fate, but nothing worked. Each version of you was destined for tragedy with each version of them. 

“That’s fair enough,” Fenrys replied. You reminded yourself you didn’t know his name. 

“What do they call you?” The words came out, regardless of your internal wince, knowing you were setting him up for a ridiculous line. 

“In b-”

You held a hand up and his mouth clamped shut. “No, no, none of that.” 

He laughed, deep and rich, a sound you ... had you heard that laugh from him before? Perhaps not, at least not in a few lives. Recently things had been so depressing. 

“I like you,” he nudged you gently with his elbow, your heart ached. 

not again not again not again. 

‘Yes,’ a cruel voice from red lips whispered in your mind, ‘again, again, again. Forever. This is what you deserve.’

Someone cleared their throat. Fenrys. 

“Sorry,” you murmured, glancing at the bottom of your nearly empty glass. Empty. Fuck. You couldn’t handle this sober. Were you sober? Your friends were long gone, all found partners for the night while you nursed your worries at the bar. “What’s your name?” You took the last sip of your drink as the last syllable left your lips, ideally it could hide any signs of a lie from him. 

“Fenrys,” he leaned back enough in his stool to extend his arm to you, rather formally. When you placed your hand in his, intending to squeeze it to death, he deftly rearranged your hands and raised your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss there. “At your service.” 

“Charmer,” you rolled your eyes but softly pulled your hand away and replied with your name. 

He said your name quietly, extending the vowels, as if testing how it sounded on his tongue, how it might sound in other - 

You chided yourself, pulling your mind out of the gutter. With the situation you knew he was always in, that was the last thing you needed to be thinking about. Or that he needed to be. You might not escape him, but you certainly wouldn’t do anything to make this harder on yourself. At least thats what you’re saying now. 

“Last call,” the gruff barman said, scowling at Fenrys before shooting you a smile. Your mind rattled through details. Right, you regularly shut this tavern down and always left a good tip. 

You leaned over to Fenrys and whispered low so the other male couldn’t hear, “he’s easy to win over. A good tip, manners, and easy orders.” 

Fenrys hid his snort in his drink, draining the last droplets. “Thank you for the advice, love,” he whispered conspiratorially. Asshole. 

“Whatever,” you mumbled and left your usual amount, sliding off the stool. Just because you were fated to make each other’s lives hell didn’t mean you had to deal with him being rude. Maybe you were just sensitive. 

A ‘wait’ followed you but you ignored it. Inevitable.

He caught up to you on the street, calling your name again. 

Something else struck you. He was alone in Varese. When did this happen? This was odd. Out of all of your lifetimes nothing had followed this pattern, never meeting so quickly and certainly not with Fenrys on his own with his leash rather loose for what the bitch prefers. You needed to figure out more. 

“Want to come back to my place for a drink?” You said, slowly turning to look at him. 

If he was surprised by your quick change of tune, he didn’t say a thing, only nodding and linking your arms together. Like he’d been waiting for a friend. The pain in your chest was physical as much as it was emotional. 

-

Lorcan was here to keep an eye on Fenrys, and if that meant sitting in the shadows on a rooftop, peering through a beautiful female’s stupidly open window then so be it. You walked around and even acted like you didn’t give a damn whether you lived or died, but he could tell you were smart, based on how you’d handled Fenrys. 

He’d ended enough lives to have an appreciation for it, and the way you were so gods-damned careless with yours pissed him off. 

Lorcan should be questioning why his feelings towards you are so strong, but instead he’s observing every little detail of the interactions between you and Fenrys. For his report, of course. He always paid attention to detail, there was no other reason than being thorough. At least he kept telling himself that. 

It wasn’t because he liked the way your hair moved, or how you rolled your eyes frequently at his blood-sworn brother, followed by a barely there smile that he only noticed because the shadows danced around it, as if you repelled the darkness. 

Maybe you could repel the darkness in him. 

What. The. Fuck. 

Lorcan hadn’t drank, and even if he had he never entertained thoughts like this. 

Refocusing, he committed to memory every detail of what Fenrys was doing, how he reacted to you, how attached he might be and how you might already be used against him by his Queen. 

An unfamiliar feeling settled in his stomach, tainting him. 

Guilt. 

He didn’t want to use you. 

But if it came to it, he wouldn't have a choice. He never really did. 

-

Fenrys whistled lowly on his way home, through the empty streets. Still aware of his surroundings, also aware that none would dare approach him - not with the steel and the stature he carried himself with, proof he knew how to use it. 

All he’d done is sit and talk with you for hours, in fact the dawn was currently beginning to crest over the city. Hours of sitting and talking felt like mere minutes with you, and he found he had more fun in that time than he had in years, perhaps decades, perhaps since entering Maeve’s service. 

It was sad, really, that you could only be a temporary fixture, for your own safety. 

Still, his mind rattled with ways to do the impossible, with how he could be with you forever without ... it was useless, really, to even ponder it. The false hope and ideas would only taint the present he had, for however long Maeve let him stay here in his ... his fantasy, he supposed. 

He could imagine many fantasies with you involved but the biggest was your friendship. The way you hadn’t hit on him, made any kind of sexual innuendos or advances, thats why he followed you out of the bar. Because you made him comfortable in a way nobody else had in so, so long. Like you’d been doing it for lifetimes. 

The scent hit him. The male wanted him to know he was there. His entire body stiffened, posture straightened slightly, pleasant after buzz from your intoxicating presence gone just like that. 

Lorcan Salvaterre. His commander. 

“Who was that?” Lorcan wasted no time and matched pace with him. 

“None of your business,” Fenrys snapped. Aware that he could be punished for it, but he didn’t care, he looked the male right in the eyes. 

Lorcan ... Lorcan didn’t push him. At all. Instead, something like understanding passed through his eyes. Had Lorcan needed to protect someone from Maeve before? 

Probably not. He was a cold hearted bastard through and through. 

“Keep her away,” the words were whispered on the wind - there and gone. Just like Lorcan, who melted into the shadows. 

Away from who? Lorcan didn’t say ‘keep away from her,’ and Fenrys knew everything the bastard did was intentional. 

Lorcan Salvaterre was here. You knew it, having caught the faintest hint of his unfortunately familiar scent, trailing after you like a hound. 

The fact that he was following you made you nervous. Yes, similar situations had occured before but everything about this time seemed so different that it filled you with mixed emotions. 

What are the odds there’s actually something good in store for you? Slim, you decided, based on history and reasoning, and you knew Lorcan Salvaterre stalking anyone was bad news, but especially for you when you had ... history with the Queen he so lovingly served.

Someone whose head deserved to be ripped right from her neck, you cast the thought into the universe and hoped it landed, hoped she felt a phantom prick in the side of her neck. 

Maybe she regretted cursing you to some kind of eternal half existence, always in and out of different worlds. Doubtful. More likely she tired of whatever game she decided to play for you and set the person who she knew would hurt the most to kill you. Even you could admit you were extrapolating. 

Maybe an attitude change could fix everything. A tad less drama. 

You glanced out the window, at the rain currently��pouring down, at the moisture leaking into your apartment. The weather certainly didn’t match up for life changes, if anything it read of staying right where you were. 

Accepting it wouldn’t happen today, you saved the attitude change for the next sunny day. Those practically screamed change in fortune. Or you hoped they did. 

A week passed. You saw Fenrys each night at the Tavern, and scented a weirdly careless Lorcan on your trail each day. 

Your attitude may not have changed with the next bout of sunshine, but you had a plan. It was rather simple, to somehow draw Lorcan out. However, there was a difference between having a plan and knowing how to execute it. You supposed that made your plan an idea more than anything. 

Fenrys had mentioned business meetings he’d be attending one night, and you decided that was the perfect to do it. The perfect night to pretend to get sloshed, and you had the help of your favorite barkeep. 

Knowing Lorcan, he probably had questions for you, and wouldn’t miss the opportunity to get some answers while your inhibitions were ‘lowered.’ Arrogant males like him wouldn’t let opportunities slide by, but Lorcan Salvaterre stayed Maeve’s commander for a reason, and you knew your acting skills had to be top notch to keep him from becoming suspicious. 

-

“When will you stop pretending to drink those?” Lorcan asked gruffly as he slid into the stool next to you, his hulking frame towering over the bar and casting a shadow over you. You were a good actress, but he was better, and caught on after the first couple of drinks and exchanged looks between you and the barkeep, who you were on very friendly terms with. 

The obsession with you, the flares of irrational anger when another man trailed too close, Lorcan knew what this was, and knew he was screwing both of you over with it. Fated for misery and doom, no matter how the cards played out. He’d be stuck with her, Lorcan noted how she was demoted in his mind, and you’d be ... free. 

All those years he’d spent making fun of those males now served to make him feel like a lot of an asshole because he gotit. There was a crack in his armor, a weakness in his resolve, and nobody knew about it. He intended to keep it that way until you were far, far away from him and his ... his Queen, and then as long as possible after that. His stomach clenched at the thought of what she might do to you in order to help keep him in line. Nothing good, and everything bad. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you answered primly, turning away from him. Why had he come over here again? 

He laughed, low and harshly. “Sure you don’t, sweetheart,” he exaggerated the last word - turning it into an insult. It didn’t feel right. His entire being flared against any insult to you, even coming from him. 

But ... the little flash of anger in your eyes, the way your nostrils flared, that was amusing. He liked the fire in you. “What did you call me?” 

He shrugged. 

You scoffed, muttering an insult he chose to ignore under your breath. “Nothing to say to that one?” You pushed when he didn’t answer, letting your elbow brush against his, “I thought it was creative. If you need me to I can keep going, there’s plenty where it came from.” 

“It was well done,” perhaps he wasn’t particularly in the mood to be insulted all night, and he got the sense you were more than capable of doing just that. 

“Well done,” you echoed, and he nodded. Your mouth curled into the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. 

-

In the future, you might just deny it ever happened, but Lorcan Salvaterre ended up in your apartment that night. You ignored the fact that he seemed to know the way there. There had always been plenty you were willing to ignore when it came to that male, and that hadn’t changed over the last however many lives. 

Once Lorcan - once he’d found his Queen, you’d been second. But before that, he’d made you his everything. You never could blame him for leading you to beg Maeve that first time, that cursed time. 

Still, on the nights when you were alone, when the rain or a pretty mountain outline reminded you of him, when everything felt too much, it was easier to pin it on him, even if it made you a horrible person. Horrible, even for an ex-lover, but then again you were always an expert at self-depreciation. 

Looking at the male now, like a statue of a God carved from granite, you knew he’d be the death of you. Again. But how could you fight him? You never had the strength to in the past. Maybe you weren’t trying to survive hard enough ... 

Things had never moved this quickly in the past, they’d always been at a pace just slow enough to be torturous with your knowledge of your impending doom. 

Maybe this time you needed to really try. 

For Lorcan. For Fenrys. But mostly, for yourself. 

The door closed behind you and you slipped back into reality, into the new situation you found yourself in. 

“Drink?” You asked over your shoulder, heading right for your kitchen. 

He caught your hand, spinning you back towards him. 

“I had something else in mind,” he said roughly, and dipped his head towards yours. 

You knew he could be patient, he could be gentle, he could be kind, but you got none of that now. 

His hand gripped your jaw, tight enough to keep you still but not harsh enough to hurt, his mouth moved fervently against yours as you matched his pace. It was the collision of a thousand stars, a world breaking and re-forming into something new and beautiful and wonderful. It was everything and more. It was the multiverse coming together into a single moment and screaming yes! this is what you were waiting for. He slowed, softened, as if some kind of guilt caught up with him. You wouldn’t have that. Couldn’t. You gripped the back of his hair and pulled him back closer to you, pressing your body against his. 

He would be yours for the night, but little did he know you‘d already been his for eternity. 

-

You owe him nothing. You owe him nothing. You owe him nothing, Fenrys reminded himself as he walked out of the bar, spotting you teasing Lorcan. He’d finished his business meetings early and thought he might see if you were still haunting your favorite spot at the bar. 

Still, he wanted to rush up to you and ask you if you knew who the hell you were tangling with but ... he supposed he was like Lorcan in that way, one of Maeve’s Blood Sworn, and to have two of them shown publicly taking an interest in you was nothing short of deadly and he refused to subject you to that. So Fenrys left. 

And hated himself for it, but self hatred was nothing new to him. 

Fenrys wasn’t sure how he found Lorcan’s rooms, considering the male probably didn’t want to be found right now. Probably wanted to bask in you. Your beauty, the time he sp-

He stopped himself from thinking of it. Even thought of shifting now, to a body where emotions were simpler and didn’t drain quite so much. Fenrys rarely shifted voluntarily when away from her, not after she kept him in that form so frequently. ‘Where he was easier to deal with,’ she’d said once, and the words still stung as His Majesty, he thought the words mockingly, intended for them to. 

The door swung open. 

Lorcan didn’t speak, just stood there with his arms crossed and jaw clenched. 

Fenrys felt young, and not in a good way. What was he? A jealous lover? Concerned friend? Idiot? 

Then it hit him. 

The scent. 

Yours. 

His. 

Entwined. 

Without him. 

Rage, pure and strong filled him. The scent was particular, and he’d seen it just a few times before. Lorcan, intelligently, had a shield around himself before Fenrys he was on the verge of some kind of burst. 

“Not fucking possible,” Fenrys backed away, “we can’t have the same mate.” 

Lorcan’s eyes widened, but he was looking beyond him. Fenrys whirled around. 

You. 

“I can’t have a mate,” you said quietly, desperately. “I never have before,” then to yourself, “it’s never been like this,” you switched your gaze to the window, he watched you try to angle your face so they couldn’t see the tears in your eyes but they were evident. Everything was evident when it came to you. 

“Get inside,” Lorcan said roughly to both of you. 

He had a point, it wasn't exactly the space for this conversation. A hallway where anyone could be walking by and overhear. That’s the last thing he wanted, anything that might put you in further danger. 

When he didn’t instantly move, Lorcan grabbed his shirt, tugging him inside. There was a knife at Lorcan’s throat before the male could blink. 

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me,” Fenrys hissed, slowly sliding the knife away and sheathing it at his side. 

He was surprised his commander hadn’t caught it, but then again he was staring at a pretty female in the hallway, your gaze still distant and fixed on the window. He called your name, just loud enough to carry across the distance. Your head snapped, you blinked a few times. He tilted his head towards the room. 

An over-exaggerated sigh, probably for their sake more than anything, and then you followed them inside. Each step seemed to make you shrink further into yourself, he noticed, that confidence and bravado fading and leaving someone vulnerable behind. 

It took a strong hand to tamp down on instincts rising, telling him to eliminate any immediate threats to you. The main one being Lorcan, but also any other males and possibly females in the vicinity. It was absolutely ridiculous, the way he was feeling even if he wasn’t acting on it. At least he hadn’t acted on it. Yet. If only because he was well aware it would piss you off. 

-

“What did you mean, ‘it’s never been like this?’” Lorcan asked and you read the skepticism in his eyes. Not quite distrust, but an interesting mix of confusion and concern. That had the potential to change quickly. Could you even speak about it or would you drop dead? You’d always assumed you couldn’t but ... 

“I’m cursed,” you started. They exchanged a brief glance, and for some reason that irritated you, but you kept going. “We’ve met before. Many times,” you knew that would grab and probably keep their attention, at least for a little while. You held a hand up when their brows furrowed in concern, “just hear me out before you write me off as crazy.” 

“I would never write you off,” Fenrys murmured, and you shot him a thankful look but he kept his mouth shut after that. Perhaps it had something to do with the glare on Lorcan’s face. 

The words were difficult. 

Each one felt stilted and awkward, but they watched and listened as if each word you said was pure gold and something about that made you feel powerful. They went through the emotions with you, although it was a tad more difficult to tell with Lorcan, but you struggled together in a way. For some reason, it started to feel like this might turn into a goodbye and you weren’t quite ready for that. After all, you didn’t know how anyone could stay with someone ... someone with the kind of tainted past you have. 

“Why would she do that?” You finished. It a was rare chance to ask two people who probably have more insight than any others into how the mind of the Queen works, not that you believe she’d let anyone truly understand her. 

“Cruelty,” Fenrys said. 

The same time as Lorcan said, “jealousy.” 

“Makes sense,” you huffed, eyes rolling towards the ceiling. It was stupid. 

“How do you end up reincarnated?” Lorcan asked. The question you were hoping to avoid. 

“I die.” 

“Of old age,” Fenrys said, but didn’t sound as if he believed it. 

“No,” you said sharply, exhaling. “You’ll laugh at me.” 

“Try me. Believe it or not, I don’t find your death very funny,” Fenrys said dryly. Lorcan was watching with apt attention, eyes watching you like a hawk. 

“Heartbreak,” you grunted, quickly whirling towards - fuck. You’d meant to look out the window, but saw the mirror instead and the twin faces of horror behind you struck something deep inside of your heart. 

“I -” your throat closed up, the words not quite getting out. 

“What is it?” Fenrys curled his fingers inward, and despite a slight internal cringe you let him beckon you, let him take your hands, let him give you this kind of comfort. 

“I wish you remembered,” you whispered, glancing at Lorcan too, who’s eyes and face told you, yes he knew you were changing the subject, and no the conversation was not over yet. 

-

“I don’t -,” Lorcan Salvaterre stumbled over his words, perhaps for the first time in his life, “I don’t mind making new memories, as long as they’re with you.” 

You beamed. Fenrys laughed. He debated how upset you would be if he killed the other male. 

Other male. 

He knew, already, that he’d have to share you. 

For you, Lorcan could and would make anything work. You were worth everything, absolutely everything. 

Maeve, a voice whispered in his mind. He pushed it down, ignored it for now. That was an ... his Queen would never be an issue, but a situation he could deal with at a later date. 

He swore to himself he’d never make fun of a mated male again. Technically he wasn’t mated yet, but he would be ... soon, he had to be. Being your mate felt like an irrevocably necessary part of his soul, like he might die without it, without having that bond with you to tether him to this world and give him meaning. Meaning he’d been lacking his entire life. 

He didn’t know or care if Fenrys felt the same way but he supposed he should. He had an obligation to his mate’s mate, after all, outside of the fact that Fenrys is his bloodsworn brother. 

Bloodsworn.

His bones and blood chilled. He couldn’t be yours, not really. The realization threatened to bring tears to his eyes, but he couldn’t cry, not here - not in front of you. You needed him strong. 

He stood, abruptly, but didn’t care. He jerked his chin to Fenrys. “We need to talk,” he let his eyes say the rest. 

He found he didn’t like how some of the shine left Fenrys’s, how they dulled at the implication of their Queen’s existence. Too bad, for now. 

“Great. Secrets,” you muttered, and a slight smile threatened his lips, but you still waved them away. Perhaps you understood secrets better than anyone else. 

Lorcan led Fenrys to an adjacent room, and their shields went up at the same time. To keep any nosy females from overhearing. The more she knew, the more danger she was in. At least they were on the same page. 

“Where is safe for her?” Fenrys started. 

At least he had his priorities straight. 

“Antica,” Lorcan answered. Maeve didn’t dare touch the southern continent, yet. “For now,” he added for honesty’s sake. “The curse won’t break until Maeve is ...” He didn’t, couldn’t bring himself to, speak the words out loud, it felt too much like treason. 

“Dead,” Fenrys said for him. He had no problem with it, apparently. If Lorcan had been as insolent as the male in front of him, he would’ve been put to death long ago, and he knew that. Perhaps Fenrys didn’t, but it wasn’t the time for that conversation. “So we spirit her away, and then what? How do we keep her from dying?” 

“A blood promise.” 

“Like what?” Fenrys leaned back against the wall, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. 

“When the curse is broken, we will find her.” 

Antica. Hot, miserable, mate-less Antica. In truth, it wasn’t that miserable, but you'd be enjoying yourself a lot more if your mates hadn’t shipped you off here as quickly as they could. 

All in the name of keeping you ‘safe,’ you grimaced in the mirror, brushing down your hair, now frizzy slightly from the rare rain that breezed in the day before. They're and gone like a phantom, almost. Almost like their presences in your life. 

You could still remember their touches from that last night, firm but gentle, still tentative like new lovers can be. You thought you knew everything about their touch from the past, but even they kept some surprises across multi-verses, or maybe it had just been a while since it had been the three of you and your memory was getting poorer. 

Probably that. 

You pushed the door open, throwing yourself into the throng of people making their way to the one of the several monthly markets in the city. Throng of people, you thought. It was awfully busy. 

‘War,’

‘Sending us-’

‘Saved the princess,’

‘Foreign lord.’ 

The whispers hit your ears one by one like a drum. A war. Against who?

You stopped casually at the closest table, and sure enough the seller was chittering to the person who came before you about it. A war, and the khaganate would be marching for Aelin Galathynius. 

You rolled the name over on your tongue, it being vaguely familiar. Perhaps you should have kept up more with politics throughout the ages, you probably could’ve made a load of money betting, but that felt a tad too immoral, and you did fear the judgement of your own conscience. 

As soon as the intrigue was there, it was gone. You’d heard of several wars over the last two decades, the longest you'd lived so far, and none of them had brought your mates back to you. You seriously doubted this would be the one. 

You refused to acknowledge the ugly truth. They’d probably already forgotten about you. 

-

In the lonely and mindless hours stuck in his Wolf form, Fenrys thought of the beautiful female in Antica, and dreamed of a life without Maeve, however impossible it was he never stopped hoping.

The female screamed on the table in front of him, but he was frozen in time and space. All he could do right now was bear witness to the horrible crime in front of him. Aelin Galathynius deserved someone to bear witness to her pain and her strength. 

The female who should’ve been his Queen, and the female who was his mate had so much in common. Not necessarily appearance, but your attitude and the way you carried themselves. So much that being with her for those months had felt like an even larger blessing. It wasn’t infidelity, not by any means, but perhaps a bit wrong he was using Aelin as a proxy for you. 

The screams in front of him distracted him from his thoughts and dragged him back to the present. She’d passed out, he was waking her with some foul smelling cloth. Each day, he thought he’d reached the limits of what he could bear without closing his eyes, but somehow - because he knew you would do it - he managed to watch. Witness. Wait. It was all he could do now. 

- 

Lorcan Salvaterre knew he was a miserable male to be around, but traveling through Varese had turned him downright sour. At least internally. 

He knew he needed to get to Aelin, and he knew he needed to get to Fenrys. For the bond they shared with each other that they’d never told a soul about. If he didn’t get to him, you’d never ever forgive him. 

He might be too much off a coward to tell you, but he would know in his soul and that’s enough. He’d find Fenrys, get her away from him, do whatever it took. 

-

You woke up one morning with an unusual lightness, a ‘pep’ in your step, so to speak. You’d never understood that phrase until then, when you felt like all of your burdens and issues had been freed in a spare moment, like nothing could weigh you down right then. 

As usual, you got your gossip through the market, and it all made sense. 

Doranelle has a new Queen. 

Queen Maeve was killed in Terrasen. 

You were free. 

You tilted your head up towards the sky, and let the sun shine down on your face, not caring you were stopped in the middle of the park. From the corner of your eye you spotted an older woman copying your movements, not in a mocking way, but in a yes the sun is quite nice today way.

The flip side of your freedom meant your mates would be coming soon. They’d be coming soon. 

To Antica. 

To you. 

You scrambled back to your apartment to start packing. How long did it take to get from Terrasen here?

You paused halfway through throwing your closet onto your bed. 

A letter would’ve arrived by now, but you’d received no such thing. 

That night you fell asleep on top of your clothes. 

The next day you built the courage to put them away. 

You didn’t know where in the world they were now that Maeve is gone, and perhaps with the curse lifting they felt they no longer were obligated to be with you and love you, and maybe -

A familiar scent hit the same time as a knock on your door. 

You rushed to it, throwing it open finding ...

Both of them. Your mouth parted, words not quite leaving your lips. Finally, you managed a lame, “you came.” 

“We promised,” Lorcan said “Can we come in?” 

Yes, they obviously could, you swung the door wider and ushered them inside. 

“We came as soon as we could,” Fenrys promised. 

The silence was awkward for a few moments as the three of you tried to figure out how to navigate this. But, it was easy enough to break as you threw yourself at both of them, managing to catch each of them in a hug at the same time. 

“I forgot to tell you before I left,” you started, muffled in the shirts but knew they heard you. You’d memorized these words long ago. “I spent so long looking for all of the things that would kill me, I forgot the ones that made me feel alive. Both of you made me feel alive. Thank you.” 

[toskarin]

Since Bethesda was so insistent on moving away from Morrowind's combat system for Oblivion and Skyrim, what would you have replaced it with?

contrary to what it might seem, I don't think replacing the skyrim combat system wholesale with sekiro or dark souls is really a viable solution to the problem, because it's fun for a mod load order, but it definitely makes the game feel unskyrim

so I'd approach this more from the angle of "what needs to be added to fill the void left behind by the simplified combat"

design rambles below the break. this is less of me offering actual solutions and more of me just saying what I'd do if I were given all the resources and executive power in the world for it, from an armchair. and it goes without saying these are all just Opinions

one of the largest basic design issues with modern bethesda melee combat is that it's tied really hard into melee being a single button input. if they want to stick with that, they should at least implement directional attacks and blocking (which I'll mention now is not something new for TES) with a simple aiming scheme, possibly similar to mount&blade's

stealing something else from m&b while I'm at it, two attacks colliding from the same direction within a tight frame window should clash

enemies need to have attacks you don't want to get hit by. somewhere in their list of moves, enemies need to do something different that necessitates either dodging, blocking, or otherwise reacting in any way. they also need to gapclose, but that's a given

healing consumables need to have a cooldown. as funny as cramming items in your face by the stack during combat is, it's a bandaid to an enormous design flaw in melee combat not being interesting. if you really wanted, you could keep some of that flow by having a skill for mixing preexisting potions together into single doses

addendum to that previous point, players should have a hotbar that allows lower cooldown consumption of certain items, which cannot be reconfigured in combat

magic needs to be stronger and riskier. heavy armour should eat into your damage and efficiency significantly, medium armour should do it just a little bit, and casting past your magicka pool should start consuming health at twice the rate it consumes magicka

blocking should have a higher damage reduction cap (it is currently 85%-95% DR depending on armour) but scale depending on how precisely you block an attack and eat into your stamina much more (with a stagger at zero, to steal another mechanic)

as they are, the entire shout system is a symptom of bad design. having a cooldown-based system that gives non-magic characters spells removes the strongest incentive to play magic characters. I'm actually not sure what to even do about this one that doesn't involve cutting all of the overlapping skills and keeping its focus on weird utilities? as a rule, I kind of hate every gameplay concept that uses "this is something only the player can do" as its skeleton, so this is a tough one for me to poke at

hitstop

[probablyasocialecologist]

Ripping up concrete sidewalks and parking lots and instead planting urban forests and using less cars can all help to decrease indoor and outdoor air temperature. In cities with an abundance of water, “soft cooling” techniques using fans and pools can also greatly reduce extreme temperatures.

Many architects today are also changing how they design buildings: only providing AC in specific rooms instead of through a central heating system. This way, people can choose to open or close their windows if they want, while reducing the energy needed to cool the hallways and lobby areas.

If you face photovoltaic panels westward, you can time the peak electricity production from solar energy with peak electricity demand for cooling. Using better glass on buildings, external shading, increasing air movement and installing ceiling fans—all of these further reduce reliance on AC.

In the longer term, we can cool our streets by narrowing them, using less dark colors that absorb heat, and aligning streets to prevailing winds. There are also ways we can overhaul the way we do air conditioning itself.

Many cities already provide air-conditioned public spaces as a public health services; we could also redesign apartment buildings with social spaces for people to hang out, by, for example, transforming the much cooler basements into lounges.

We could build cooperative housing that is ecologically and efficiently designed, so that people can together manage their energy use and decide on their own innovations to lower temperature. Toronto has a district cooling system that uses cold water from the bottom of Lake Ontario, and then uses the warmed up water for the drinking water supply.

[saphig-iawn]

Made to Play, Forced to Watch

My weekend plan for this doll was set, we were to have a narrative hypnosis session.

I adore these sessions because it not only involves incredibly deep and long form hypnosis, but it treats my subject to an experience unlike anything else.

The last time I had this doll for a narrative session, I sealed her inside a painting, and hung that painting in my bedroom so she could observe the little things I'd get up to in there.

Well, the thought of being on display but completely unable to partake consumed this doll. The whole week fed this fantasy and it grew into something that she just needed to feel.

So, after some gentle fractionation, bringing her down so softly on my lap, she found herself in front of those tall wooden doors.

She knocked, that familiar tremble in her hands. A tremble that knew it was on the cusp on something powerful.

The doors opened on their own, unveiling the grand hallway she had visited before, the warm light of the rustic kitchen aglow at its end.

Then she heard the sound of footsteps coming from the spiral staircase.

A hand gently glided down the bannister, emerald green nails caught the sun spilling in from the skylights.

I came into view. A long satin robe graced the steps, its hems lined with feathers. It was open, revealing a deep green corset, adorned with bows and lace. Stockings and suspenders completed the look.

She felt her heart beating faster.

I alighted the stairs and approached her, my dark auburn hair cascading down my shoulders.

She could feel herself slipping into my eyes, but the feeling my hands taking hers grounded her, like a puppet's strings going taut.

Tacitly, I gently pulled at her hands to bring her with me upstairs.

She was speechless, completely lost in being guided. Her mind was racing but her thoughts were raw. No words could describe the maelstrom that was raging inside her.

We moved into the bedroom, an intimately dark space that felt like it hugged very curve of her, like everything inside those four walls was designed to heighten her senses.

I positioned her in front of the grand poster bed, and with a gentle press at the centre of her chest she sat on the edge of the bed.

Instinctively, she pooled her hands in her lap, but a snap of my fingers caused them stir.

A rubber clad woman walks in. Her posture is straight, her movements are deliberate, like a finely tuned clockwork doll.

She moves swiftly to bed and pulls my doll back in recline, as I mount my doll.

The gasp that escapes her lips is caught by a rubber hand and returned to her lips as the rubber woman restrains my doll.

With meticulous efficiency, I undressed my doll, savouring how she squirmed beneath me.

Then I began to rub and stroke her. Her rubber gag turned her moans into sweet music.

She could feel that ache building, that sweet pressure swelling, but then it... plateaued. It felt restrained, confined, like a balloon trying to expand in someone's grip.

She rutted against my hand nonetheless, her eyes rolling back, and that was when she saw a grand mirror suspended from the ceiling.

Her rutting stopped as it finally clicked in her mind why her pleasure was been toyed with.

Underneath my hand was no longer her sweet dolly parts, but a rubber null bulge, the reflection of the room was warped beneath my hand.

That was when she felt a kiss.

My face took up her whole vision, my green lipstick glistened in the warm light.

There was a danger in my eyes.

Her lips began to tingle.

She watched as the her in the reflection's lips began to glisten, and then shine with gloss, as my lipstick began to spread. Soon her lips were so sensitive as her mouth began to shift into a pleasurable rubber cocksleeve. She tried so hard to utter a sound but only deep moans came out.

The rubber woman restraining her plunged her fingers into the doll's mouth. She began to suck on them like that was the only thing she was made to do.

Her mind was on fire. She was questioning everything, pleading why this was happening to suddenly, why she felt compelled to, why it felt so good.

Another finger snap split the soundscape of the room, and the rubber woman removed herself from the bed, keeping her fingers in the rubberising doll's mouth.

She began padding at her plump latex lips, seeing if it was a dream. The latex felt so smooth, so good.

Her fingers began to tingle.

They began to glisten.

They began to shine with gloss.

Her skin was becoming alive with pleasure, and she just couldn't help but run her fingers over her body.

The rubber spread even more.

Slowly her legs began to straighten out and part. Her fingers gently pulled together, as her elbows began to bend into position.

Her thoughts began to rubberise too. Soon her own name became lost to the latex, thinking herself as only Doll. The focus of her thoughts changed from analysing the changes and trying to reconcile with the magic talking hold to wonder why Owner wasn't using her, why Owner was playing with her, where Owner was, why was Owner using her.

Soon she could do nothing but moan through her open rubber mouth, and stare at her immobile new form in the suspended mirror.

The room began to move and spin around her, as a gentle pressure gained purchase on her hips.

She was being moved.

Her mind was still trying to call out to Owner, trying to plead.

Only moans came from her hole.

She found herself now facing the bed, the rubber woman stood to attention in front of her.

The new blow-up doll lit up in delight at seeing Owner.

She hoped Owner was finally going to play with her.

But then her pleading blossomed with a deep yearning as I began to explore the rubber woman in front her. Tracing her curves, and savouring every part of her.

Doll moaned in protest as I made my move.

I rubbed my hand across the rubber woman's mouth, sealing it in more latex. Her eyes widened and she began to moan with twinned arousal and trepidation. I smoothed her arms into her sides and firmly began to shape her. Each pass over her body made her moans deeper but ever so quieter

Her figure became a suggestion of her former body. Her features vague in their femininity.

All the Doll could do was watch as the new rubber cock, quietly moaning and still, was delicately picked up and gently inserted into myself. The Doll was screaming inside her rubber head, begging Owner to use her instead, to use the new toy on her too, she wanted it, she needed it. Hearing the quiet moans of the rubber toy disappear inside me drove her even wilder.

But she couldn't do a thing about it. Just sit, and watch, and listen. Her rubber nullge aching, her inflated breasts yearning to be groped.

I used that new rubber cock in its entirety, letting every curve of her feel me and my pleasure. I could feel her moans like a gentle vibration.

My moans heightened, my bucking and rutting picked up, and the frozen expression of lust on the Doll's face was bringing me closer and closer to climax.

Doll could tell, but her mind was being ever more consumed by the rubber. All she could think was of Owner, she was barely begging any more, just voicing simple pleas into the void of her rubber mind over and over: Owner fuck Doll... Owner fuck Doll... Owner fuck Doll...

Her mind sparked back into life as my load graced her glossy body. The yearning and begging trembled into existence like a rising chorus.

I snapped my fingers, and outside of the Doll's vision, another rubber woman enters the bedroom holding a velvet cushion.

I retrieve the toy and delicately place her on the cushion. Trained ears would've been able to hear gentle breathing and whimpering.

Doll's ears were full of her own lust.

With a grin, I glided over to my Doll and gripped her nullge in my hand.

Like a wind-up toy, her mind began to rattle through the very few phrases still left in her mind; phrases drenched in rubber and lust.

In an instant she could feel a climax building, how she was finally being used by Owner.

And then she felt a sagging. A pull. An inexorable folding inwards, little by little.

If she was able to look down she would've seen my eyes ablaze with mischief as I had just undone her air valve.

The throes of her pleasure began to stretch, achingly so. The rushing air slowing her thoughts, making each grope of her nullge feel like a plunge of a hand into molasses.

But the pleasure kept building. I kept rubbing and groping and using my rubber Doll as her form slowly deflated in my grasp. I could feel her climax getting closer and closer.

Doll was still near the beginning, as the pleasure continued to distort and bend in her perception, her pleasure separating like chromatic abberation and recompiling.

She was both so close to orgasm but also so far. She was caught and spread across the timeline of her climax, feeling it all, yet to feel it, already felt it.

Then, as the last bit of air left her rubber body, her pleasure recomplied one last time, culminating in a unified, all body orgasm.

But there was no movement.

No gasps.

No moans.

She was just limp, spent rubber.

Ablaze with pleasure but helpless to do anything about it.

I wanted something for her to remember this by when she woke up so I didn't even wipe her down before folding her back up and slipping her into my panty drawer.

But then again...

Who says I have to turn her back when I reinflate her.

I'm sure she wouldn't mind.

But she was oblivious to my little musings, swimming in a blissful dream of post-orgasm bliss, tucked away in my drawer.

(This writing is about a real hypnosis session with real hypnosis and real people. If you would like to see more writing like this, then please support me over at https://ko-fi.com/saphig, where you can also commission 1-on-1 hypnosis sessions and have your own piece of writing just like this!)

[simmervlogs]

Hilltop Hideaway

Hello Simmers, come and spend a weekend in Granite Fall's newly renovated vacation rental, Hilltop Hideaway.

The Hilltop Hideaway is the perfect home for a weekend getaway. The clients love to entertain, so the house was set up to create an open and casual atmosphere with a strong connection to the outdoors. The house is oriented toward the best view of the waterfall while maintaining good solar orientation for taking advantage of solar heat gain in the winter and keeping out the hot summer sun. The large roof over the living room serves to shade large areas of glass in the summer, while geothermal heat pumps and high levels of insulation help keep it warm and energy efficient in the winter. In such an extreme climate the house was specifically designed to withstand both extremes of the temperature spectrum. 

This property includes three bedrooms with their own bathrooms. Spacious yet moody, the property boasts high ceilings as well as uninterrupted views of the peaceful surroundings of Granite falls. The outdoor space offers a pool to lounge in during the summer heat as well as multiple hot tubs for the winter warmth. Multiple seating arrangements as well as a sunken fire pit is also available for you and your family to gather. The waterfall is immediately recognized from the kitchen. While the property may seem very open, it is equipped with security and privacy for you to relax on your holiday.

Please note almost everything is CC and the items were not created by me! Please do support and directly download from all the creators mentioned! I have attached the CC folders convenience ONLY.

Few of the CC files will need to be downloaded separately due to early access

Neat collection by Joyce (wardrobe)

Cypress collection by Sundays

Laundry Day required for washing machine and dryer for function, terrain from Outdoor camping pack used. 

Do check out my Tiktok, live almost everyday building!

INSTRUCTIONS

Please directly move all the files in CC zip folder to your Mods folder.

Please move  Tray files (Tray files folder) to your Tray folder (enable bb.moveobjects on).

Gallery ID-  SimmerVlogs (Enable CC)

TikTok- simmervlogs

Note-  I have placed this down in Granite Falls 50x50 lot

Thank you once again to all CC creators!

DOWNLOAD (Patreon)

[comic-sans-chan]

cursed modern human garashir au where ds9 is an old ruined resort that was built by some evil rich motherfuckers years ago and was recently seized back by the native people whose land and economy it had destroyed. it's since been converted into an affordable apartment complex sort of situation (just... with a pool, bar, restaraunts, spa and tennis court built into it lol) and is run by sisko and kira. since it is rundown, odo gets hired back on to keep kids from further vandalizing it and o'brien's team gets hired on from the nonprofit organization sisko works for to fix the place up best he can. dukat is the old overseer of the property who drops by sometimes to remind them he and his hospitality business still exist, and my, what a fine job they’ve done renovating the place! it’s actually nice again. sure would be a shame if someone bought the property out from under them (lmao jk kardasi hospitality and starfleet are friends! no hard feelings. they should collaborate on some future projects, actually).

garak's a sad bitch who just lost his amazing morally dubious nepotism career at obsidian corp. (which absorbed kardasi hospitality) and moved into the complex just for the comfortingly familiar architecture. even tho he's not on the payroll for his (secret) dad's evil exploitative company anymore he's still vital to its continued efficiency and is an absolute sucker who still does unpaid shady work for them from time to time. so no one in the complex likes him, but also he's a very pleasant and fastidious queer man who pays his rent on time and has completely taken over the laundry room, to the benefit of everyone, because all the machines actually work now, it's always tidy, and there's a variety of forever-stocked detergents and soaps available, plus an iron?? there was not an iron before garak moved in. which is how it eventually becomes public knowledge that garak has an online tailoring and fashion design business, and he's actually pretty good at restoring clothes that get fucked by the washing machine or eaten by rats, soooo. yeah. they let him stick around.

meanwhile julian's a hot doctor who works at the local hospital and is absolutely buried in student debt that he refuses to let his moderately-wealthy family help him with because they're awful people who had him on illegal drugs without his knowledge since he was a little kid. they were afraid he had something wrong with him, apparently. he was too far behind in his class or w/e. they couldn't handle having a kid with special needs, so they pumped him full of dangerous experimental stimulants. only reason he found out is because he snuck off somewhere to start transitioning and had some tests done that revealed all the crazy shit in his system. he's insanely lucky he didn't end up in the hospital with seizures or fall into a coma or worse. not to mention his parents still dead-name him left and right over a decade later. it's a whole mess and a huge secret, because he technically has a history with illegal drug abuse, and it's a partially ongoing history because going cold turkey off drugs he's been on since he was six is Not A Good Idea, so??? fuck his life, actually. he lives in the apartment just down the hall from garak's. 

garak hates the country his dad's company expanded into and would like nothing better than to move back home, but it's not really logistically possible. especially since everyone there hates him cuz his (secret) dad's company is a mega-corporation that's completely taken over everything p much and is a complete monopoly nightmare, and he did... kinda... work there for decades. no one would hire him if he went back. it would be an extreme conflict of interest, since everyone wants to stay on tain's good side, including garak. but starfleet is interested in him, so he does some begrudging contract work for them sometimes, but he really has no desire to join them. he just wants to resume his old career and reclaim his assets.

julian's hospital is owned by starfleet, tho. his scholarship into medical school was also from starfleet, in fact--they're the only reason he was able to (sort of) afford becoming a doctor at all. so he's a big fan, even tho they are pretty hardcore anti-drugs in a way that's made him have to forge medical records and risk serious legal charges and prison time. julian comes across as a squeaky clean medical professional and an adorable idiot, but he's intimately familiar with back-alley dealings. which is kind of how he ends up helping garak with his drug addiction, and keeps said addiction off the record.

but basically, how it begins is julian likes to support the local restaurants in the complex and garak finds him there and thinks he's gorgeous, and it proceeds as expected. they fuck nasty and become codependent. ten years later, julian lives in a modest house with garak in his home country and garak irons all his old university hoodies.

[transformersclandestine]

First Steps

“It is difficult for organics to remember their beginnings. From the moment you are born, you’re growing, changing, evolving into who you will eventually become at the apex of your lifetimes. But for us Cybertronians, for all mechanical life, the moment we are born is the beginning of the rest of our lives…”

——

The heating system began to cool off. Armatures that once carried the newborn life folded away out of use. In the center of what was shaped like a large coffin sat a pulsating mound of living metal: sentio metallico, the very fiber of every Cybertronian’s body. Inside this body pulsed the beating, electrical heart that provided the essence of who this ‘bot would become: the spark.

Terminus, blacksmith of the Kaon hot spot, twirled his instruments impatiently. This was not his first forging, but it was an odd case of a spark taking longer than expected to form the sentio metallico around it into a protoform. As a blacksmith, it was Terminus’ job to guide this spark along and help shape it into a final form, complete with an efficient alternate mode. As Kaon was a heavy mining town, it was expected that this protoform, Terminus’ 16th forged this hepta-cycle, would also be formatted into a ready-to-go worker. Right as Terminus’ patience with the protoform was reaching its boiling point, the living metal ball shifted and pulsed. Points began forming, shaping into limbs, a torso, and a head. Terminus got to work. The forceps he had been clicking to himself whisked into the still-malleable sentio metallico. Concentrating, he flicked and manipulated. Forming the body of a strong, miner-type ‘bot required precision and concentration, but to a blacksmith as tenured as Terminus, it was merely second nature. To some Cybertronians, the art of blacksmithing was holy work, garnished by the will of Primus Himself. To the faithful, blacksmiths were the crafters of life; the engineers responsible for bringing Primus’ ideals and hopes to physical form. To the blacksmiths themselves, especially Terminus and those working in the more rural areas of Cybertron, it was simply work.

The forging of the protoform did not take too long, Terminus’ skills made sure of that. Upon completion, Terminus stood back and let the protoform’s spark take over.

——

It seemed at first, a flash; a pulse, somewhere in the distance beyond his sight. Not that he had sight, for the world beyond him did not exist: it was nothing. No color, no sound, nor smell existed. Until all at once and without warning, it did.

His mind struggled to comprehend. The complex shapes and images that suddenly assaulted his newly-forged senses were overwhelming. After a short time, things began to fade into view. His electro-synapses that were sparking wildly just moments ago calmed themselves into a distinct rhythm. The feeling…the feeling was strange. He didn’t know it, but he was alive.

He spoke. His first words were a question.

“What is this? Who am I?”

Terminus did not look up from his tool box, of which he was packing up after a forge well done. He had gotten used to the protoforms asking questions immediately upon birth. It was much preferable to the diode-splitting screams from his earlier forging days, before modern tools made the process much more stable. Without looking, he responded.

“Your designation is D-16. And this is the world. Welcome to it.”

D-16 swiveled his head in an artificial manner, not used to the movement of body parts and seeing the new world around him. He took in a view that admittedly wasn’t very pleasant. The hot spot he was born in was a rather dark, damp hydroswamp. A sizzling pool of some vicious green liquid sat some distance behind Terminus. The soil beneath his blacksmith’s servos sank in slightly and the air was filled with steaming fog from the pious pool. The protoform tried to move his lower limbs. His legs swung out of his forging container awkwardly. They tried in vain to take a first step, but his foot spun to the side and he lost balance. Thankfully, Terminus had caught him on the descent.

“Easy there,” he said to D-16, who didn’t seem to notice any issues, “first steps are usually the hardest. Best to take it slow.”

D-16 looked at Terminus with newborn awe.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Terminus helped the ‘bot to his feet before holding out his hand. “Terminus. I’m your blacksmith.”

D-16 didn’t reciprocate the intended handshake. Instead, he began studying Terminus’ extended hand, almost as if he were uncovering a lost artifact from a time beyond. Terminus relaxed his hand and rotated it, palm outstretched.

“Come,” he said calmly to the intrigued newborn who placed his own hand in Terminus’, “I’ll show you your new world.”

——

Terminus led his curious protoform out of the hydroswamp. Though the swamp sat not far from the gates of nearby Kaon, the journey took longer than expected due to the newborn’s insistent fascination with the new world he had found himself in. Every particle, element, and facet of the world piqued his curiosity and Terminus had to gently coerce him more than a handful of times to keep moving. 

The gates of Kaon were industrial in design, owing to the polity’s penchant for blue-collar work. Large spires of crystallized Energon, lifestuff of Cybertron, mounted the archway into the city. This too fascinated D-16 and he stopped short once again to gaze at the structure before him. This time, Terminus did not interrupt. The sight of Kaon’s gate was indeed one to behold. Outside the gate, a large mining vehicle with a conical drill puttered forward before suddenly shifting into the form of a robot. This took D-16’s attention more than anything they had encountered thus far. He uttered an excited and amazed phrase as the ‘bot greeted him with a kind smile and wave before going on his way. D-16 mimed the motion and turned awestruck back to Terminus who looked on with a bemused expression. 

“What was that?” D-16 asked his de-facto tour guide.

“That’s a fellow miner,” Terminus answered back. “What he did was transform. It’s something we all can do. Watch.”

In the flick of an optic, Terminus reconfigured his body into a similar-looking mining vehicle. D-16 gazed in amazement, then looked down at his hands and clenched. Nothing happened. Shifting his servos ever so slightly, D-16 tried again. This time, he could feel the surge of energy flowing through his circuits and he too transformed into a vehicle of similar design.

“This…is…AMAZING!”, he cried out in joy. The young ‘bot spun around in vehicle mode, kicking up dust and dirt, having a blast in doing so. Terminus transformed back to robot mode and smiled. Seeing the newly forged ‘bots discover their inner purpose was one thing he could never get tired of.

——

As Terminus and D-16 ventured further into the polity of Kaon, the newborn’s eagerness to learn grew and grew. Though this wasn’t Terminus’ first rodeo with an extremely inquisitive protoform, he had to admit that D-16’s curiosity rivaled all of his former protégés combined. He tried in vain to answer everything D-16 asked but the rate of questions was becoming overwhelming. Stopping short of the entrance to the Kaon mineshafts, he held up a hand to D-16, who had begun to ask why the ground was getting rougher.

“Hey, kid. That’s enough,” Terminus said sternly, “I know it’s a brand new world to you and that everything has a story behind it, but I’m just your blacksmith, alright? I don’t have all the answers. I’m only here with you because we needed help down in the mines.”

D-16 stopped walking, stunned and slightly hurt, but understanding. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry.”

Terminus relaxed his hand and placed it comfortingly on D-16’s shoulder. “It’s alright. I apologize too. Like I said, everything’s new to you. I shouldn’t be so harsh. You’re just…way more questioning than any other protoform I’ve helped forge.”

The older ‘bot led D-16 into the Kaon mines’ opening. The entrance was a natural cave, a stark contrast to the metallically paved roads that led to it. Purple streaks of residual Energon lined the walls and acted as guide lights for the ‘bots that entered.

“These are the mines of Kaon, your new workplace.” Terminus explained. As they walked further in, D-16 noticed plenty of other ‘bots similar in shape to him and Kaon using tools to crack rocks. Some had found solidified purple crystals inside and began loading them into bins. 

“Energon is the lifeblood of this planet. It’s our fuel, our food, and our livelihood,” Terminus continued, “What you do here helps not only yourself but every ‘bot on the planet. They all rely on you - on us - to keep Cybertron operational.”

It was there, in that moment, that it all began to make sense to D-16. His childlike curiosity had suddenly become burdened with the weight of Terminus’ words. Though D-16 did not fully understand why, it was clear that this task he was built for was something far grander than he had been expecting. He clenched his fist and glanced confidently at Terminus.

“Then I’ll do my part,” D-16 said, “Cybertron will survive so long as I am in this mine.”

Terminus chuckled at D-16’s newfound confidence.

The mine’s newest worker picked up the closest pickaxe and began chipping away at the rock foundations before them. Confident in another successful forging and introduction to society, Terminus began to leave D-16 to his new life. Before he got too far however, he heard D-16 utter one last question.

“Terminus, are you happy with your work?”

It stopped the old teacher dead in his tracks. For the first time, he was presented with a question he could not answer easily. It took him a minute to think, before he looked back to D-16 with a smile.

“As long as it’s for the good of Cybertron, then yes” he answered.

D-16 returned the smile and eagerly returned to his work. Before long, he had struck a small purple crystal in his rock outcropping. He excitedly pulled it from the formation and placed it aside in a small bin.

Terminus began to leave again before stopping once more. He reached into a containment pocket in his chest and pulled out a small clear file card. 

“Hey, kid!” Terminus called back to D-16. When the young ‘bot looked up, he tossed the card and D-16 caught it. 

“My Iacon Vaults card. Greatest repository of knowledge on Cybertron. If you’re ever curious about anything, they’re sure to have your answers.”

D-16 clenched the card close to his chest and nodded to Terminus. The two exchanged respectful glances before the blacksmith turned away and left D-16 to his work. The newly forged miner likewise returned to his work, blissfully chipping away at a new outcropping of rocks.

——

The halls of the Iacon Vaults were unlike anything D-16 had seen before. Whereas his first steps into Kaon blinded him with a flurry of grungy, hardened architecture, Iacon’s premiere data archiving library was seemingly sculpted by the hand of Primus Himself. The front entrance sprang from a large, crystalline structure, rounded at the end with a welcoming presence. It felt almost sacrilegious to D-16 to even walk these halls, as nearly every crystal detail was polished and clean. At the back of the building, D-16 could spot what appeared to be flight bays welcoming in and seeing off dozens of flying ‘bots and smaller cargo ships. The Vaults were humming with activity today.

Inside, the grandiose display didn’t simmer. Lining the walls were racks and racks of servers, each blinking with a dazzling display of lights of every color. In contrast to the outside hustle, the inside of the Vaults were strangely empty. Not a single soul lingered in the halls and all D-16 could hear were the soft buzzing of the servers operating. Alone at the front’s information desk sat a broad-shouldered, red-and-blue ‘bot carefully scanning over an assortment of data pads. Upon noticing D-16’s approach, he quickly stood up and gave a warmly inviting smile. 

“Welcome to the Iacon Vaults. My name is Orion Pax. What can I help you find?"

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Meet Hardhat Ken!

This Ken is the last tool you'll ever have to buy! He's equipped with all the handiest supplies and know-how to keep anything up and running, but he's also the perfect tool for all the heavy lifting you don't want to do.

He loves to be put to use!

Hardhat Ken can easily lift over 400lbs. He's our strongest model yet! Construction companies all over the globe have already ordered this Ken in bulk, so you'll be seeing a lot of him hard at work around your town. Just think of how efficient he'll be, working around the clock with no need for breaks or compensation.

He's designed for grueling manual labor, but he'll be content getting any work done, whether he's installing pool in your backyard or just fixing your sink. Hardhat Ken is happy to be your personal handyman, and he's got the perfect tool for every job!

But this Ken isn't just a mindless worker drone, he loves to kick back and sip a beer with you, his boss, at the end of a long day. You can even make him break out his biggest tool. He's happy to be of use in any way his boss wants!

[ceasarslegion]

Thought I just had during my bedtime knowledge reading: if your feet are designed to let your blood pool in them in response to gravity, does lying down help you rest more efficiently because you're evening out where your blood is pooling through your whole body, thereby giving your organs and brain more and fresher nutrients to replenish themselves?

Also, is the reason my feet swell up on airplanes because my body went very high very fast and gravity pulled more blood down to them?

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Hate Speech

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

June 30, 2024

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

JUL 01, 2024

In addition to his comments about Russia in Ukraine, Trump said something else in Thursday’s CNN presentation that should be called out for its embrace of one of the darkest moments in U.S. history. 

In response to a question about what the presidential candidates would say to a Black voter disappointed with racial progress in the United States, President Joe Biden pointed out that, while there was still far to go, more Black businesses were started under his administration than at any other time in U.S. history, that black unemployment is at a historic low, and that the administration has relieved student debt, invested in historically Black colleges and universities, and is working to provide for childcare costs, all issues that affect Black Americans. 

In contrast, Trump said: “As sure as you’re sitting there, the fact is that his big kill on the Black people is the millions of people that he’s allowed to come in through the border. They're taking Black jobs now and it could be 18. It could be 19 and even 20 million people. They’re taking Black jobs and they’re taking Hispanic jobs and you haven’t seen it yet, but you’re going to see something that’s going to be the worst in our history.” 

Trump was obviously falling back on the point he had prepared to rely on in this election: that immigration is destroying our country. He exaggerated the numbers of incoming migrants and warned that there is worse to come.

But what jumped out is his phrase: “They’re taking Black jobs and they’re taking Hispanic jobs.” 

In U.S. history it has been commonplace for political leaders to try to garner power by warning their voters that some minority group is coming for their jobs. In the 1840s, Know-Nothings in Boston warned native-born voters about Irish immigrants; in 1862 and 1864, Democrats tried to whip up support by warning Irish immigrants that after Republicans fought to end enslavement, Black Americans would move north and take their jobs. In the 1870s, Californian Denis Kearney of the Workingman’s Party drew voters to his standard by warning that Chinese immigrants were taking their jobs and insisted: “The Chinese Must Go!” 

And those were just the early days.

But while they are related, there is a key difference between these racist appeals and the racism that Trump exhibited on Thursday. Politicians have often tried to get votes by warning that outsiders would draw from a pool of jobs that potential voters wanted themselves. Trump’s comments the other night drew on that racism but reached back much further to the idea that there are certain jobs that are “Black” or “Hispanic.”

This is not a new idea in the United States. 

“In all social systems there must be a class to do the menial duties, to perform the drudgery of life,” South Carolina senator James Henry Hammond told his colleagues in 1858. “That is, a class requiring but a low order of intellect and but little skill. Its requisites are vigor, docility, fidelity. Such a class you must have, or you would not have that other class which leads progress, civilization, and refinement. It constitutes the very mud-sill of society and of political government; and you might as well attempt to build a house in the air, as to build either the one or the other, except on this mud-sill.” 

Capital produced by the labor of mudsills would concentrate in the hands of the upper class, who would use it efficiently and intelligently to develop society. Their guidance elevated those weak-minded but strong-muscled people in the mudsill class, who were “happy, content, unaspiring, and utterly incapable, from intellectual weakness, ever to give us any trouble by their aspirations.”

Southern leaders were smart enough to have designated a different race as their society’s mudsills, Hammond said, but in the North the “whole hireling class of manual laborers and ‘operatives,’ as you call them, are essentially slaves.” This created a political problem for northerners, for the majority of the population made up that lower class. “If they knew the tremendous secret, that the ballot-box is stronger than ‘an army with banners,’ and could combine, where would you be?” Hammond asked his colleagues who insisted that all people were created equal. “Your society would be reconstructed, your government overthrown, your property divided.” 

The only true way to look at the world was to understand that some people were better than others and had the right and maybe the duty, to rule. “I repudiate, as ridiculously absurd, that much-lauded but nowhere accredited dogma of Mr. Jefferson, that ‘all men are born equal’” Hammond wrote, and it was on this theory that some people are better than others that southern enslavers based their proposed new nation. 

“Our new government is founded…upon the great truth that the negro is not equal to the white man; that slavery subordination to the superior race is his natural and normal condition. This, our new government, is the first, in the history of the world, based upon this great physical, philosophical and moral truth,” Alexander Stephens, vice president of the Confederacy, told supporters. 

Not everyone agreed. For his part, rising politician Abraham Lincoln stood on the Declaration of Independence. Months after Hammond’s speech, Lincoln addressed German immigrants in Chicago. Arguments that some races are “inferior,” he said, would “rub out the sentiment of liberty in the country, and…transform this Government into a government of some other form.” The idea that it is beneficial for some people to be dominated by others, he said, is the argument “that kings have made for enslaving the people in all ages of the world…. Turn in whatever way you will—whether it come from the mouth of a King, an excuse for enslaving the people of his country, or from the mouth of men of one race as a reason for enslaving the men of another race, it is all the same old serpent.” 

According to the mudsill theory, he said the following year, “a blind horse upon a tread-mill, is a perfect illustration of what a laborer should be—all the better for being blind, that he could not tread out of place, or kick understandingly. According to that theory, the education of laborers, is not only useless, but pernicious, and dangerous.” He disagreed. “[T]here is not, of necessity, any such thing as the free hired laborer being fixed to that condition for life.”

He went on to tie the mudsill theory to the larger principles of the United States. “I should like to know if taking this old Declaration of Independence, which declares that all men are equal upon principle and making exceptions to it, where will it stop,” he said. “If that declaration is not the truth, let us get the Statute book, in which we find it and tear it out!” To cries of “No, no,” he concluded to cheers: “Let us stick to it then. Let us stand firmly by it.” 

One hundred and sixty-six years later, Black and Hispanic social media users have answered Trump’s statement about “Black jobs” and “Hispanic jobs” with photos of themselves in highly skilled professional positions. But while they did so with good humor, they were illustrating for the modern world the principle Lincoln articulated: in the United States there should be no such thing as “Black jobs” or “Hispanic jobs.” 

Such a construction directly contradicts the principles of the Declaration of Independence and ignores the victory of the United States in the Civil War. Anyone who sees the world through such a lens is on the wrong side of history. 

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON