#Etched by the Wind | Bio

[billdenbrough]

my uncle killed himself last night.

technically, he’s my mum’s cousin, but we’re pasifika, which means he’s my uncle. he’s one of her best friends in the whole world. she’s closer to him than she is to her actual brother.

when he told me the news, my dad gave a tiny biography. a refresher course, if you will. to some, this would indicate, i imagine, a great distance. a lack of familiarity. the thing you have to know, then, is my mother has one hundred and eight first cousins. multiple of them (who are also related to each other) have the same name.

but i’m sitting in a mall, looking at my google doc, thinking to myself, how am i going to connect a to b, and then i get a text, and i am staring at my phone for ten minutes. there is something weird and staticky and tight and panicky in my chest, but mostly everything is numb. i do not own a weighted blanket, but i imagine sometimes it might be like this. a grounding pressure coating everything. or maybe vaseline is closer to what i mean, keeping things in, keeping things out.

i call my dad. i take a list of errands. nothing to do with my uncle, or my mother, or grief, or death. they are the tasks my dad needs done, the things he was going to do today but now is not, because my mother’s heart is broken and he can’t leave her alone. so maybe they are to do with grief, kind of.

i drive through the city, and it sucks, because of course it does, but also it’s a saturday, and it’s a long weekend, and there are sales, and i am driving to the biggest mall in my area. and i get there, and i don’t really know where to go or what to do, so i try to nap in the back of my car. i lock all the doors, bunch up several of my jackets lying around, and set a timer for half an hour. after three minutes, it’s too hot, so i climb back up, figure out how to unlock the whole car, make my way to the front, turn it on, and put the back two windows down, just an inch or two. inches aren’t my favourite measurement—imprecise, unpractical, american—but it is what it is. i lay back down, and i try sleep, and i get maybe ten minutes of semi-aware rest before the noises outside stress me out too much, and then i spend the rest of the timer curled on my side, staring at my phone battery go down. my dad calls me back eventually, and gives me a direction. the first half of the great impersonator is my company for this, until my battery level stresses me out even more than the vaseline works, and i switch off bluetooth completely.

it starts raining at some point, and there is a wind tunnel, and my feet are sore because i’m not wearing my orthotics, which i am not wearing because they were making my feet ache. catch-22. i keep doing errands, and eventually, the lane i take when driving from one of the stores to a different mall leads me all the way to the house of someone i used to know, a boy who dated someone in my family for years and years and years. this is not great. i do not love this. i have spent the better part of a year adjusting to his absence, see, and reckoning with the big hurts people can deal people in ways that are small, in the greater scheme of things.

and i’m driving past his parents’ house, thinking about the last time i was there, and it’s probably less upsetting than it would be on a good day, but it is still a bad thing on a day that just managed to already be worse. and then i start thinking about my uncle, and my dad’s refresher bio, and how it did not include the fact that this man taught me how to weave, even though he did. he showed me how to weave hammocks and nets and helped me into a dinghy when i was ten and trying to bridge the gap of the ocean from the ladder to the boat and my mother loved him and relied on him and his smile is etched into my brain and now he is dead.

i finally get hungry. i woke up at 5am, my body causing me problems even after being up past midnight revisiting old stories and universes and ideas, and i’ve had one thing to eat around 9:30, and then everything has been too funny in my stomach to contend with the idea of eating. and then, suddenly, i am finally hungry, so much that it hurts. and i get food for my mother, who has not been eating all day, too full with grief, and i get food for myself, and some extra for my dad, and i drive through the rain and behind bad drivers and with songs i don’t know playing, until i get to the kitchen where my mother is, and i drop all my bags, and i hold her for a full minute while she shakes against me.

dad went for a walk, she says, and i give her the food, and i tell her i got the broth separate from the noodles so she can heat and eat it later if she isn’t ready now, and she says she will eat it.

and she is eating. and i am eating. and there she is. and here i am. and she says she wants to go back home. she wants to go this week, but she doesn’t know who can take care of the cat, because i will be in another city for three days and dad will be away for two. and she says how my uncle was such a big part of the reason she was so looking forward to going back home with all of us this christmas. they had so many big plans. and her voice shakes. and she says my aunt, her sister, is taking it badly, and i am not surprised, and then she says that my aunt is the one who found him, that it was in her house, and now i am surprised. now i am shaking too.

my dad comes home. she doesn’t bring up wanting to go back. maybe she is waiting. i wash my new sheets. the rugby game is starting in one room, and we all slowly migrate there, and we sit in separate chairs, and we watch, by which i mean we have devices in front of us that we sometimes look away from to observe the game. i’m still staring at that same google doc from this morning.

every so often, when i look up, i don’t watch the game. i watch my mother, and i watch how her face crumples, so many times that i cannot count. her whole mouth turns down, and her face shakes, and her eyes are so, so sad, and she is across the room from me, and all i can do is watch. she does not cry. she does not speak. but her face crumples, over and over.

my dad goes to shower. she goes to shower. i end up on a wikipedia deep dive of something even more horrible, even sadder, and close my laptop screen. i go to shower, because i almost had a breakdown over something that isn’t even a thing to have a reaction to on twitter, and i need to do something to douse the rising anxiety beneath my skin. so i go to shower, and i open tumblr, and i start typing. i don’t really know why i’m saying all this. i guess i’m still trying to douse the rising thing in my chest. the vaseline is wearing thin, and i don’t know if it’s all better out or in.

i guess it’s just a lot. and i don’t know where to put it down. and today is the first day. and we will do it all again tomorrow, and my mother will still be staring at the ceiling, and i will be watching her, and my dad will go for walks in the rain, and nobody will have anything big enough to say to make it better. i don’t know if anyone has told my sister.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

What sort of weapons, armor and powers they may possess in a Medieval! AU

A/n: In the Medieval! AU, Nornorë and Ilinsor are demi-god siblings, and both have wings.

Warnings: Armor | Weapons of various kinds | Mentions of injury and fighting and death

Minors DNI | You are responsible for the media you consume.

⚔ Nornorë: His armor is a cuirass and faulds made especially for him. The back plate comes in three separate pieces and has holes that allow room for his wings. It is light in weight, allowing him to twist and move with greater ease without impeding his speed. His armor is enameled in silver with white lace-like scroll work all over it. His helm is of the same color, and has falcon wings on either side, wrought in silver.

Nornorë’s weapon of choice is a long sword named “Silence” as it does not make a sound even when it strikes flesh and armor. Like all warriors who are proven to be loyal to the realm, his sword has been dipped in the dews of the Sacred Trees of Greengrove. Besides “Silence”, Nornorë carries a shield that bears the green and gold flames of the royal House of Ilúvatar.

⚔ Lúsion: His armor consists chiefly of boiled leather and a dull gold enameled cuirass decorated with leaf-like scroll work and bears. He has a distinctive helm that has been crafted to look like a growling bear’s head. His shield is enameled in dull gold as well, and it too has a growling bear’s head engraved in the center.

As a warrior who is more brawler than swordsman, Lúsion is a firm believer in his own strength and his own fists when it comes to fighting. However, he does carry a pair of brass knuckles and a heavy, spiked ball flail called the "Mangler,” which he uses with deadly accuracy when necessary.

⚔ Makar: Another warrior who is more brawler than swordsman, Makar prefers his fists over all else. His armor is heavy steel plate enameled in rich crimson, without device or ornamentation. His helm is of crimson enamel as well, and his black shield bears the bloody hand of House Tarkil.

As mentioned above, Makar prefers his fists to weapons. However, he still has a weapon of choice, a spiked billhook with a hammer on one end that he brings down on his opponents face if he manages to unhorse them.

⚔ Meássë: Her choice of weapons and armor can be found in this Medieval! Bio I did for her.

⚔ Nielíquie: She prefers light mail, and she bears no weapons. Her skills lie in the realm of magic, as she has mastery over flora and fauna. Nielíquie can communicate with animals, use them to spy on enemies, and even manipulate trees and vines and grass to aide her during battle.

⚔ Ilinsor: Like Nornorë, Ilinsor too requires a light-weight cuirass with a back plate that comes in three separate pieces and with holes that allow room for his wings. And like Nornorë, Ilinsor’s armor is enameled in silver, but with dull blue scrollwork etched to look like gusts of wind.

Ilinsor does not care for full swords, as he prefers finely forged stilettos that he keeps hidden in his armor. This allows him to carry out surprise attacks and wound his opponents by sticking the blades through the little gaps in their armor. His helm has no ornamentation. As the half-mortal children of a wind god, both he and his brother Nornorë possess limited mastery over wind, and will use this when necessary to throw off opponents.

⚔ Tevildo: A powerful shape-shifter, Tevildo, when in non-bestial form, dons armor of light steel plate enameled in black, with gold inlaid on the greaves and gauntlets. His long sword, “Darkheart”, is forged out of a rare black steel found only in the Iron Mountains, and like his armor, it too is inlayed with gold.

Tevildo’s armor is enchanted with a spell, allowing it to change with him when he takes on his bestial form. Thus, he can change shape any time he wishes and not inconvenience himself by having to dispose of his armor.

⚔ Salmar and Ómar (Amillo): The brothers prefer light mail hauberks and padded under-tunics to heavy-plated armor, with blue-green silk over-tunics that bear the white swan ship sigil of House Alqualondë.

Their weapons of choice are both the longbow and the crossbow. But that is not all. The siblings have other gifts that they use as weapons when necessary. For Ómar, it is his voice. It is enchanted, and when he chooses to do so, he can so sweetly, it places all those around him in a trance-like state. For his brother, it is an enchanted harp. Because of these gifts, they often aid others by disguising themselves as minstrels and enchanting their enemies into trances during feasts, battles, etc.

⚔ Silmo: An archer without peer, Silmo is one of only a handful of archers to bear a silver-gold longbow made from the branches of the Sacred Trees of Greengrove. A thin, padded-under tunic, light mail, and silks bearing the colors of House Blackgrave make up his armor.

He can sense the presence of souls as well, and would communicate with them to gain information about nearby enemy movements.

⚔ Aluin: The lord of time has no need for armor, preferring to garb himself in silks instead. If he ever marched to war, he could change time itself, slowing it down to aid his own warriors, or change time for a particular enemy instead, making them either so old or young and weak that they could no longer fight.  

⚔ Fanuin, Ranuin, and Danuin: Much like their father, the siblings have no real need for armor. However, they wear them all the same, and all are lightweight cuirasses.

Danuin’s armor is enchanted to change color based on the time of day. During daylight hours, his armor would turn golden and yellow, with suns etched all over. At night, it turns black and blue, with a silver crescent moon in the center.

Ranuin’s armor changes color according to the season. Various shades of green with swaying trees etched into the steel during spring. Golden with a rotating sun during summer. Crimson during autumn, with leaves falling due to the wind. White with silver snowflakes that drift during winter.

Fanuin’s armor is always white, with silver lace-like scroll swirling clockwise.

Each sibling could use their mastery in certain aspects of time to their advantage: They can make the day unbearably hot, the nights intolerably cold. They could stop spring rains, ruin autumn harvests, and even blight enemy land with harsh winters. They could even age their enemies, but they are nowhere as skilled as their father. Due to these powers, they and their father, more often than not, choose the path of neutrality in order to prevent too much harm being caused to the land and the fabric of time itself.

⚔ Telimektar: His plated armor is enameled in silver with gold inlay on his gauntlets. There is no decoration on his armor save for a golden rampant bear in the center of his chest plate to represent his House.

Telimektar prefers weapons over fighting in hand-to-hand combat. He carries a flanged mace and a silver-inlay sword named “Heartseeker”, and he serves as a mounted lancer, riding his horse into battle at any given opportunity.

Tags: @asianbutnotjapanese @cilil

[janeykath318]

Shieldshock: Make It Better

Darcy stood in front of the imposing doors to the Avengers facility, trying to calm her nerves and put her thoughts into words. She just hoped she could keep it together and he would understand.

“Hey, Steve, if you’re in there and watching, It’s me, Darcy. We need to talk.”

Nothing happened. She sighed and tried again.

“Okay, I know you probably hate me and after everything, that’s totally understandable, but I really, really, need some friendly faces right now. My mom and Jane got Snapped and I had a huge fight with Tony. I found out what happened.”

Her voice was starting to tremble. “I’ll appeal to Natasha as well. Remember we’re bros, Nat.”

She flashed a wobbly wave and smile at the security camera.

“I brought baked goods.”

The door swung open and there stood her ex-boyfriend, Steve Rogers, wearing a plaid shirt that begged for mercy and a very wary expression on his face. It had been almost five years since she’d seen him and she was struck by how many more lines creased his face and the tired look in his blue eyes, which looked sad the more they looked at her.

A twinge of pain and remorse pierced her heart as she knew she’d been responsible for some of that sadness. Her eyes welled up.

“Steve….” she whispered.

“Come inside, Darcy,” he gently directed her. “Let’s get away from prying eyes.”

She was led to a cozy lounge area, and greeted warmly by Natasha.

“Darcy, I am very sorry to hear about Dr. Foster and your mother. How are you?”

She smiled wanly back. “I managed to hold it together long enough to finish my astrophysics degree, but the rest of my life is in shambles. I was so sorry to hear about…..well, you know who.”

She thought the mention of Bucky would be a very sore subject for both Steve and Nat.

Nat’s face showed an echo of the pain etched on Steve’s, though she covered it quickly.

“Your sympathy is appreciated, Darcy, But I will catch up with you later. You two need to talk.”

She shot a glance at Steve, plucked the bag of muffins from Darcy’s hand, and disappeared.

Steve shuffled his feet, staring at the floor for a long moment before sighing.

“We’d better sit down.”

Having sat down on opposite couches with a coffee table in between, Darcy found herself aching for the days when they’d cuddle together and she’d usually wind up in his lap, kissing like there was no tomorrow. The silence started to get very awkward before she found her courage to speak.

“First of all, I’m so sorry Steve. I said really mean things to you that were completely unfair. Tony admitted he greatly embellished the truth in hopes I’d dump you. He wanted to punish you after the whole fiasco with Bucky, make you hurt more, I guess.”

“Well, he certainly succeeded,” Steve said hollowly. “I keep reliving that fight in my head over and over. I should have told him sooner.”

“I’m sorry I believed him over you. I should have known better. You better believe me I told him off for that. I don’t think I’ve been so angry in a long time. He cost me the best thing that ever happened to me.”

She couldn’t keep the tears back any more, and they started running down her face in streams.

In a moment, Steve was sitting beside her and had pulled her against him, rubbing her back in the calming way he used to.

“I’m so tired of soldiering on, pretending everything’s okay when it’s not,” she whispered. “It feels like I’ve lost everyone.”

“I know,” Steve agreed, sounding as ragged as she felt. “But there’s a few of us left here and you’re welcome to hole up with us like in the old tower days. Some days, it’s just the comfortable companionship of being miserable together, no judgment.”

She wiped her eyes and looked up at him.

“I’ll take that over being around my bio dad. I can’t look him in the face after what he did.”

“Hurt people hurt people,” Steve reminded her.

“Yeah, but you were in an impossible situation to begin with. He hasn’t dealt with his Howard issues at all, and refuses to acknowledge that Bucky was a victim in all of this as well. I straight up told him I was going back to you and not to call me unless he was ready to make things right.”

“I bet you used a lot more colorful language, though,” Steve said, a tiny smile appearing.

She shrugged. “You know me too well, Steve-o.”

Darcy turned to face him.

“Can you forgive me, Steve? I know it’s been a long time and all and I will totally not blame you if you don’t, but…….I love you, and I’m sorry.”

Steve’s eyes filled up with tears and he took her face in his big hands, looking at her with that same love she’d seen many times before.

“The day I don’t forgive you is the day I die, Dr. Darcy Lewis,” he whispered huskily. “I’ve never stopped loving you.”

The kiss he gave her decisively backed up his words.

[dreamsatdusk]

Hmm for the ask game how about 1, 2, and 20? And also I see Alexander the Great mentioned in your bio. Can I ask why? :)

Apologies, missed this one earlier! Thank you for the ask!

book you’ve reread the most times?

Probably either The Black Company, by Glen Cook or Ninefox Gambit, by Yoon Ha Lee. I've also ready Diana Wynne Jones' Howl's Moving Castle at least a few times. As a kid, I probably reread The Boxcar Children the most.

2. top 5 books of all time?

I couldn't decide even sort of, so this turned into a selection of favs that I think are rather different from each other.

The Phantom Tollbooth; Norton Juster: Disillusioned kid finds a toy tollbooth setup has appeared in his room, builds it, drives his toy car through...and winds up in The Lands Beyond! It is extremely weird in a very matter of fact sort of way that I adore in books to this day. I was particularly amused by the wordplay and such even as a kid.

Machineries of Empire; Yoon Ha Lee: Okay that's a trilogy and a short story book all together, so I suppose I will say Ninefox Gambit is my favourite of them all, but there's so many key points in the other books too, so! The consciousness of an undead general is installed into the head of a soldier chosen to defend against a rebellion opposed to the dystopian space empire she lives in. It is far far more complex than that little description makes it seem. One of the books where my mind latched on at high speed and very intensely to a particular character (Jedao).

Deathless; Cathrynne Valente: A retelling of The Death of Koschei the Deathless, but set during and after the Russian Revolution. It follows the life of Marya Morevna, Koschei's chosen bride. Another one that is complicated to try to explain, because there is an immense amount going on. I suspect it might be easier to follow if you know at least a bit about the relevant faerie tales and Soviet Union history, but I've heard that even people without that backgound enjoyed it.

The Etched City; K.J. Bishop: Beautiful and utterly bizarre. I'm not sure how to describe the plot. It starts out with two...hmm, friends? war buddies? who are ex-soldiers and on the search for a new home after being on the losing side of a civil war. They resettle in a city with very peculiar stuff going on. Steampunkish in a way. Wikipedia informs me it's considered part of the 'New Weird' genre, so I should look into that and see what else is on that list.

The Lord of the Rings; J.R.R. Tolkien: I really loved LotR when I read it as a child, but then I also got into the History of Middle Earth collection and it's fascinating how much work went into all of it, how much the story (and that of the Silmarilion) changed as they were shaped. And then there's also hilarious things like the proto-versions of the 4 hobbits having a debate about eating dinner on the second floor of a house and throwing the (wooden) plates out into the front yard and never cutting the grasss so you can't see them.... This is all so you needn't bother carrying the dirty dishes DOWN the stairs mind you.

20. what are things you look for in a book?

I tend to be put off by overly simplistic use of language. Not always, but there have been cases where something was really bothering me about a book here or there and I figured out that's what was up.

Characters that interest me. This doesn't mean they have to be 'nice' or 'good' characters, but someone needs to interest me somehow. I've found it a struggle more than once to stay engaged with a book where I get to the point of just not caring what happens to anyone in it. Again, not a hard rule, but one that has recurred more than once.

Vivid descriptions that paint a strong picture in my mind are a delight, but yet again, not a dealbreaker. (One of my favourite authors actually sucks at this*L* I think we were 7 or more books into a series before the narrator of the first 3 books was ever actually described at all?)

Strong worldbuilding, moral complexities, a sense of epicness - all further interests. And I have to admit, I have a soft spot for eccentric military geniuses.

Alexander the Great

Bonus round! Alexander has been one of my historical interests for a long time and I have two shelves of books about him and related topics (e.g., the Successors to his empire, a book about his mother, one about his grandmother, etc.) I'd almost forgotten I put something in profile notes. I think I did so when I was trying to come up with some stuff to mention as interests, like fandoms and such.

In the spirit of the book ask theme, I will recommend A Very Short Introduction to Alexander the Great by Hugh Bowden as, indeed, a good short intro. It's solid and detailed in spite of its brevity, but it also included some information that some older books about Alexander have ignored in my experience, so I found it an enjoyable read even beyond my original objective (which was to find out if it was actually a good intro book to suggest to people who asked).

Thank you!

[vv2321]

Jeff Seid Bio

Jeff Seid Bio

From the tender tendrils of youth, Jeff's heart danced to the rhythm of athletic pursuits, weaving a tapestry of passion through soccer, basketball, and football fields. But like a phoenix rising from the ashes, it was at the tender age of 16 that his path intersected with the realm of bodybuilding, casting an irrevocable spell upon his soul.

Within the hallowed halls of high school, Jeff seized the iron weights and, in a harmonious symphony of grunts and determination, fell irrevocably in love with the art of weightlifting. Day by day, hour by hour, he sculpted his physique, immersing himself in the sacred temple of the gymnasium, unravelling the mysteries of training and nourishment. His sweat-drenched toil bore fruit as he blossomed into a prodigious force, snatching victories at bodybuilding competitions even before donning the graduation cap.

The ensuing years saw Jeff's meteoric rise as a formidable figure in bodybuilding. Like a young titan striding upon Olympus, he etched his name among the pantheon of luminaries. In 2010, Jeff seized the Teen National Bodybuilding Championships. This conquest crowned him the supreme victor in the Teenage Division, an accolade that would forever be etched upon the annals of his triumphs. The embers of his ambition were stoked, casting an inferno within his being, propelling him forward on his relentless quest for greatness.

Yet, beyond bodybuilding, Jeff's luminescence radiates upon the entrepreneurial landscape and the vast realm of social media. A revered beacon, he attracts over 3 million followers on Instagram, weaving a tapestry of inspiration and urging souls to embrace the path of vitality and wellness. Harnessing his entrepreneurial spirit, he has birthed a realm of supplements, clothing, and fitness equipment, breathing life into a thriving empire that transcends mere muscle and embraces the ethos of a holistic lifestyle.

Jeff has encountered his share of storms like all beacons illuminating the world. In 2015, amidst the raging controversy, a fellow bodybuilder hurled a lightning bolt of steroid accusations. Standing tall as an oak amidst the storm, Jeff vehemently denied these claims. Nevertheless, the fallout cast shadows upon his path, stripping away specific sponsorships and leaving him to navigate the storm with unwavering resilience.

Undeterred by the raging winds of adversity, Jeff emerged from the storm unscathed, his spirit unyielding. He stands today, an epitome of inspiration for countless souls traversing the globe, yearning to sculpt their destinies through the crucible of health and fitness. With unwavering dedication, relentless toil, and an unquenchable passion for bodybuilding, he has etched his name in the sky of success, transcending mere mortal boundaries.

As the tapestry of time unfolds, Jeff Seid shall continue to inscribe his indomitable legacy upon the world, each stride a resounding proclamation of his unwavering spirit. The realm of bodybuilding, entrepreneurship, and beyond shall bear witness to the radiant brilliance of this extraordinary individual, a luminous testament to the power of dreams forged in iron and harnessed by unyielding will.

Jeff Seid Age

Born on the radiant day of June 12, 1994, Jeff entered this world, bestowing the gift of his presence upon it. With time, the sands of the hourglass have carried him through the tapestry of life, gracing him with the wisdom and experiences that accompany 28 revolutions around the sun.

Jeff Seid Height, Weight & Physical Appearance

Jeff's towering presence commands attention, standing at an impressive height of 6 feet 0 inches (183 cm), a testament to his physical stature. His robust frame, weighing between 205 and 215 pounds (88.5 to 93.0 kg), exudes strength and power.

The magnificence of Jeff's physique transcends mere description, as his sculpted form embodies the epitome of definition and toning. His low body fat percentage unveils a canvas of intricately chiselled musculature. A broad expanse of shoulders beckons admiration, while his chest, etched with precision, speaks volumes of his dedication. His well-defined abs invoke a sense of wonderment, a testament to countless hours spent pursuing physical perfection.

Gaze upon his arms and be captivated by the artistry that adorns them. Muscular and meticulously carved, his biceps and triceps silently testify to his unwavering commitment. The symphony of his physique resonates with harmony and proportion, captivating the discerning eye and earning him a rightful place among the champions of bodybuilding.

Beyond the realm of his physical attributes, Jeff possesses a charismatic allure that transcends the tangible. A classic embodiment of the "pretty boy" aesthetic, his chiselled facial features testify to his captivating presence. Meticulously groomed hair crowns his countenance, enhancing his charismatic appeal.

Jeff Seid's Net Worth

Jeff's resplendent journey extends beyond the stage of fierce competition. He has ascended the virtual realm, harnessing the power of technology to transcend boundaries and become a revered online trainer and fitness influencer. Through his digital presence, he has captivated the hearts and minds of countless individuals, sharing his expertise and inspiring them to embrace a life of strength and wellness.

Jeff's prowess lies in his triumphs as a competitor and influencer, and his extraordinary physique has set him apart from his peers. Admiring eyes have marvelled at his chiselled form, a testament to his unyielding discipline and relentless pursuit of physical excellence. The such remarkable distinction has not only garnered him admiration but has also translated into substantial financial success. Throughout his illustrious career in the fitness industry, Jeff has amassed an estimated fortune of $1.5 million, a testament to the value placed upon his exceptional talent and undeniable charisma.

[bleakfated]

INTERACTIONS. HEADCANONS. PHOTOS. IISMS. WISHLIST. OPENS. SC.

STATISTICS

BASICS: name: theodore lucas bristol age: mid 30s-40s gender & pronouns: male, he/him sexuality: heterosexual faceclaim: jason momoa occupation: hunter and owner of the bar the crossroads location: smith center, kansas unless hunting, take a peek at his house

PERSONALITY: positive traits: warmhearted, courageous, optimistic, honest negative traits: impulsive, stubborn, blunt, moody

APPEARANCE: scars: a few from hunting, nothing significant tattoos: antipossession tattoo on chest, shark teeth tattoos on left leg and arm piercings: none

VERSES

BIOGRAPHY

TL;DR

Theodore Bristol is the owner of the hunter bar The Crossroads in Smith Center, Kansas and is often bartending there. He opened it alongside his mentee Cameron Ambrose whom he met at the ashes of Harvelle's Roadhouse. Theodore still hunts a few times a month and has hired on a couple of extra bartenders to ensure The Crossroads is always open. He got into hunting after being attacked by a vampire when he was seventeen and hasn't ever looked back to normal life. Very close friends and the women that frequent the bar are permitted to call him Teddy, while everyone else calls him Theo.

FULL BIO

Theodore Bristol was born on March 28, 1978. He lived a rather normal life up until he was seventeen. His parents had instilled a strong sense of responsibility into their four sons, which meant part-time jobs in high school. Teddy instantly became more interested in making money than the various sports teams he had been involved in throughout middle school and his early high school years, so he quit the teams and focused more on his studies and his fast food job which helped pay for his jiu-jitsu lessons instead. When working later shifts he often opted to walk home rather than drive, largely so he wouldn’t get caught driving after curfew again if a closing shift didn’t go well. This bit him in the ass one night when he had stayed later than he should have and then needed to meet up with a friend to put some finishing touches on a group project.

Cutting through the local scrap yard to save time as he was desperately exhausted and it was nearing midnight, Teddy happened upon a tearful woman leant up against the fence he was about to hop at the far side of the yard. Concerned, he paused at the fence to offer assistance when he found himself knocked to the ground, winded, with the woman on top of him baring exposed fangs. With his jiu-jitsu training, he was able to gain the upper hand, outmaneuvering her clearly superior strength. Instead of continuing to fight, Teddy thought he could run and was nearly tackled once more by the woman whom seemed to run impossibly fast. Blindly throwing her off of his back, he turned to face her to be met with a gruesome scene. She had been thrown into the sharp frame of an abandoned shelf and nearly decapitated.

The image of her face, accompanied by bared fangs was etched into his memory forever and a prominent feature of many nightmares. He never told anyone about the encounter, because nobody would believe anything that he'd seen. The narrative the police went with when they found her body was that a drug addict had slipped down one of the mountains of scrap while looking for something to steal to make a quick buck and met her untimely demise. After this, Theo spent a lot of time at the public library and began to research monsters, because he recognized that he had nearly fallen victim to a vampire. Upon graduation, he took a bartending job and continued to work on his physical strength. Largely through continued jiu-jitsu, rock climbing, and physical labor which also helped with some extra cash. He started to scan headlines for anything that looked suspicious and eventually took on his first hunt.

Being so inexperienced, the news caught his eye much later than another hunter named Jerry had noticed it. Showing up late and with clear ineptitude, the hunter begrudgingly agreed to show the Teddy how it was done so he wouldn’t get himself killed. After they got the vampire, Jerry sat down with him at a diner and gave him different tips of what in a case could suggest certain monsters and how to kill them as well as where to look for reliable monster information. He also gave him the address to Harvelle’s Roadhouse where he could go for a safe space for people like themselves, where he may even find extra tips or advice if he was among the right company. The two parted ways, but Teddy often called Jerry up for advice throughout the years as he gained his footing in hunting.

A few years into hunting, his parents were killed by a vengeful vampire mate that had tracked down his family. His brothers assumed it had been a vendetta around Theo’s sketchy lifestyle and cut him out of their lives before he had the chance to explain himself. He checked up on them regularly for a while, conflicted, because he wished he had let them all know about vampires at the very least so they could protect themselves. In the end he decided that a clean break was best for everyone. If he was estranged from them, hopefully anything he accidentally let get away wouldn’t think to go after them. It was a very hard lesson about not leaving behind loose ends, even though he had never had the slightest inkling that the vampire had a mate.

Around six years later, Teddy was traveling to The Roadhouse after a particularly rough case only to find the burnt remnants of the building he had once considered as close to home as he’d had in his adult life. He noticed a kid staring at the ash from his tailgate when he pulled up and saw a lot of his younger self in him, since Teddy had been around the same age when he started hunting. The two talked for a couple of hours, and Teddy realized he had heard of the young man's mother a few times at The Roadhouse. He took the young man, named Cameron, under his wing moreso than Jerry had for him around a decade ago.

The hole that for The Roadhouse had left grew until Teddy could no longer bear it and with what was left of his portion of the estate sale of his parents’ and some money from Cameron, he bought a bar in Smith Center, Kansas, a location that was as close to the geographic center of the continental US with a bit of a population to support the business outside of hunters. He named it The Crossroads and he runs the place with the help of Cameron and a couple of other trusted hunters he hired on. Teddy makes sure to go on hunts a few times a month because saving people is still very important to him, but he takes running the bar very seriously.

Most know him by the name of Theo, but he lets those that get close to him call him Teddy if they wish to and he doesn't mind if the women that frequent his bar prefer to call him Teddy. Don’t let the nickname or generally pleasant demeanor fool you, however. He will not hesitate to drag anyone causing any sorts of problems in the bar out by their hair and ban them from The Crossroads permanently. The patrons of the bar know to treat other hunters with respect and an eagerness to keep the hunting community connected and with access to various resources. There are a couple of pool tables but hustling of any kind is prohibited.

[communicationblogs]

Failure Analysis Market — Forecast(2024–2030)

Overview

As the technology is evolving the tools for identifying and correction of failure has becoming easy and increase in usage of technology is driving the failure testing market With the complexity of electronic devices and materials continuously increasing, there’s a growing demand for more advanced analytical techniques in failure analysis. This includes techniques such as scanning electron microscopy (SEM), transmission electron microscopy (TEM), focused ion beam (FIB) microscopy, X-ray imaging, and spectroscopy. These techniques enable finer resolution, deeper analysis, and greater accuracy in identifying failure modes, thereby driving the adoption of sophisticated failure analysis solutions. Many companies are increasingly outsourcing their failure analysis needs to specialized service providers. Outsourcing offers several advantages, including access to expertise and equipment not available in-house, faster turnaround times, and cost savings. Additionally, as failure analysis becomes more specialized and requires highly skilled personnel and expensive equipment, outsourcing provides a more efficient and cost-effective solution for many organizations. As a result, the market for failure analysis services is witnessing significant growth, with specialized firms catering to a wide range of industries and applications.

These trends reflect the evolving needs and challenges in failure analysis and are driving innovation and growth in the market. However, it’s essential to consult more recent sources to confirm if these trends persist or if there have been new developments since my last update.

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The report: “Failure Analysis Market — Forecast (2024–2030)”, by IndustryARC, covers an in-depth analysis of the following segments of the Barium Sulphate Industry. Market.

By Product: Transmission Electron Microscope, Focused Ion Beam Systems, Scanning Electron Microscopy, Dual Beam Systems, Others

By Test: Fractography, Metallography, Mechanical Testing, Chemical Analysis and Testing, NDT, Weld Testing, Microstructure Evaluation, Adhesive Identification, Coating

Contamination, Thermal Mapping, Electrical Overstress (EOS)/Electrostatic Discharge (EDS), Regulatory Compliance Testing, Others

By Techniques: Fault Tree Analysis (FTA), Common-Mode Failure Analysis, Failure Modes Effect Analysis (FMEA), Failure Modes, Effects and Criticality Analysis (FMECA), Functional Failure Analysis, Sneak Circuit Analysis, Software Failure Analysis, Others

By Technology: Broad ion milling, Focused ion milling, Relative ion etching, Secondary ion mass spectroscopy, Energy dispersive X-Ray Spectroscopy

By Application: Bio Science Cellular Biology, Neuroscience, Bio Medical, Others. Electronics: Semiconductors, Others. Renewable Energy: Solar, Wind. Agriculture: Machinery & Tools. Oil and Gas, Machinery & Tools. Commercial Aerospace.

Defense: Marine, Aerospace, Ground. Automotive: Automotive Materials Testing, Automotive Plastics and Polymers Physical Testing, Automotive Exterior Testing and Expertise, Automotive Interior Testing and Expertise. Construction. Chemical and Pharmaceutical. Healthcare Equipment. Food & Beverage. Mining. Polymer. Paper & Fiber material. Ceramic & Glass. Nanofabrication. Others.

By Geography: By Geography: North America (US, Canada and Mexico), Europe (UK, France, Germany, Italy, Spain, Russia, Netherlands, Belgium, and Rest of Europe), APAC (China, Japan, India, South Korea, Australia and New Zealand, Indonesia, Taiwan, Malaysia and Rest of APAC), South America (Brazil, Argentina, Colombia, Chile, Rest of South America), and RoW (Middle East and Africa).

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Key Takeaways

• Evaluate market potential through analyzing growth rates (CAGR %), Volume (Units) and Value ($M) data given at country level — for product types, end use applications and by different industry verticals.

• Understand the different dynamics influencing the market — key driving factors, challenges and hidden opportunities.

• Get in-depth insights on your competitor performance — market shares, strategies, financial benchmarking, product benchmarking, SWOT and more.

• Analyze the sales and distribution channels across key geographies to improve top-line revenues.

• Understand the industry supply chain with a deep-dive on the value augmentation at each step, in order to optimize value and bring efficiencies in your processes.

• Get a quick outlook on the market entropy — M&A’s, deals, partnerships, product launches of all key players for the past 4 years.

• Evaluate the supply-demand gaps, import-export statistics and regulatory landscape for more than top 20 countries globally for the market.

Failure Analysis Market Segment Analysis — By Application

The automotive sector has seen notable technological advancements such as Advanced Driver Assistance Systems (ADAS), connected vehicles, Internet of Things (IoT) devices, and smart sensors. These innovations play a crucial role in preventing potential accidents caused by malfunctions in critical vehicle components. According to a June 2022 report from the World Health Organization (WHO), around 1.3 million lives are lost annually due to road traffic accidents, with 20 to 50 million individuals sustaining non-fatal injuries Potential causes of automotive device failures include aspects like product design, manufacturing processes, material source contamination, product packaging, mishandling, and incorrect calibration. These factors underscore concerns about the manufacturing quality of automotive parts and the necessity for proactive measures to mitigate incidents.The Asia-Pacific region has experienced significant growth in the automotive sector, fueled by increasing demand for both passenger and advanced vehicles. The region’s high population density contributes to elevated usage of passenger vehicles, thus driving market expansion. In 2022, China’s automotive industry alone produced approximately 23.8 million passenger cars, as reported by the International Organization of Motor Vehicle Manufacturers (OICA).

Failure Analysis Market Segment Analysis — Electronics & Semiconductor

The dominance of the electronics and semiconductor application segment in the failure analysis market is evident, holding the largest share. This is primarily attributed to the escalating demand for miniature transistor chips, Nano electronics, and optoelectronics across various industries. The electronics and semiconductor sector is emerging as a pivotal player, fueled by the rising adoption of robotics and automation in the manufacturing of electronic devices. This surge in automation has led to a requirement for high-density, integrated, and miniaturized devices to facilitate the production of smart devices, wearables, and intelligent industrial equipment. As a result, the need for robust failure analysis solutions within this sector has become increasingly pronounced, driving the dominance of the electronics and semiconductor segment in the market.

Failure Analysis Market Segment Analysis — Geography

During the projected period, the Asia Pacific region is expected to demonstrate the highest Market Share of 45 % The significant mass production of electronic goods such as smartphones, tablets, sensors, industrial equipment, wearables, and white goods in China and Taiwan is set to propel the expansion of the failure analysis market in this area. Japan holds a prominent position as the primary market for microscopy equipment in the Asia Pacific region. Major industry players like Nikon, JEOL Ltd., Olympus, and Hitachi High-Technologies are headquartered in Japan, enjoying strong patronage from major research institutions, pharmaceutical companies, and biotechnology firms. In China, the manufacturing sector is actively embracing industrial robots to automate and modernize various manufacturing processes. This transition has created a demand for monitoring device failures, presenting fresh growth prospects for the failure analysis market in the country.

Failure Analysis Market Share (%) By Region, 2023

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Drivers — Failure Analysis Market

Fusion of Microscopy and Spectroscopy

The integration of microscopy with spectroscopy is poised to unlock significant opportunities across research communities, offering a wide array of applications. For instance, merging Raman spectroscopy with either atomic force microscopy or optical microscopy provides intricate insights into nanoscale properties and composition. The combined techniques synergize to facilitate precise sample alignment, efficient optical signal transfer from microscope to spectrometer, and accurate focusing of excitation light at the detection point.The potential of amalgamating microscopy technologies has led to innovations like the DXR2 Raman Imaging Microscope by Thermo Fisher Scientific. This instrument seamlessly integrates an optical microscope with a Raman spectrometer, allowing for the acquisition of both traditional optical and petrochemical images

Challenges — Failure Analysis Market

Elevated Ownership and Maintenance Expenses

There has been a noticeable shift in microscopy usage trends, with traditional models gradually being replaced by high-end alternatives such as electron microscopes, scanning probe microscopes, and digital microscopes. This transition is fueled by the advanced features, superior resolution, and magnification capabilities offered by these modern instruments. However, a significant barrier to their widespread adoption lies in their high cost, which can range from USD 25,000 to USD 2 million. This pricing hurdle limits their accessibility in settings like hospitals, pathological laboratories, and small-scale industries. Furthermore, the ongoing expenses associated with microscope maintenance add to the overall ownership costs. For instance, maintenance costs for a transmission electron microscope can fall within the range of USD 15,000 to USD 100,000 per year. These steep expenses often necessitate heavy reliance on government and private research funding, consequently restraining market growth to a certain extent.

Market Landscape

Failure Analysis Market Segment Analysis Market Landscape

Technology launches, acquisitions and R&D activities are key strategies adopted by players in the Window Films Market. Major players in the Failure Analysis Market are

Hitachi High-Tech, Intertek, JEOL, Motion X, TESCAN, ZEISS, A&D Company, Carl Zeiss SMT, FEI, Thermo Fisher Scientific and Others.

[xasha777]

In the aftermath of the Great Galactic Convergence, humanity had stretched its influence across countless star systems, establishing dominions that adhered to ancient Earth governance systems. The kingdom of Solarius, a realm where the terraced cities glimmered with bioluminescence and starships sailed solar winds, was governed by the age-old system of the King-in-Parliament, a ceremonial yet influential figure seated in the sprawling, orbital Citadel of Legislation.

Amidst the political tapestry of Solarius, a figure of peculiar interest emerged: the Lady Virena, an enigmatic envoy whose origin was as mysterious as her appearance. With alabaster skin that seemed to drink in the light, hair like the crimson nebulae of the Outer Reaches, and eyes as blue as the ice moons of Tholara, her presence was as unsettling as it was captivating.

She appeared before the King-in-Parliament at the zenith of the Helios Festival, when the stars aligned in a display of celestial majesty. The assembly, a confluence of aristocrats and elected ministers from a thousand worlds, fell silent as she took to the podium, her green gown shifting with patterns that mimicked the climbing vines of the Citadel's bio-engineered walls.

“Honorable assembly,” she began, her voice resonating through the chamber, “I come from beyond the Oortian Veil, from a place untouched by time's embrace. I bear a warning and an offering from the ancient Order of the Starweavers.”

Her words spun a tale of a coming darkness, a cosmic entity that devoured stars and silenced worlds, creeping ever closer to the heart of the galaxy. But it was her offering that held the assembly in thrall—a device, she claimed, capable of peering into the quantum fabric of existence and bending it to their will, an advantage that could potentially save or doom all of Solarius.

The King-in-Parliament, an ageless sovereign who had seen the rise and fall of empires, regarded Lady Virena with a discerning eye. “And what price does this Order of Starweavers ask for such a device?” he inquired, his voice steady, resonating with the authority of his station.

“No price, Your Majesty, but a partnership,” she replied. “The Order seeks allies in the impending shadow war, for the enemy is one that respects neither crown nor creed, consuming all in its path.”

The assembly murmured amongst themselves, some voices raised in suspicion, others in wonder. The King-in-Parliament raised a hand, commanding silence. “Lady Virena, your words carry the weight of untold galaxies. We will deliberate and consult the Oracles of Chronos. If what you speak is true, then we shall stand with the Starweavers.”

As the assembly disbanded, charged with the urgency of decision, Lady Virena retreated to the Citadel's garden atrium, her thoughts as enigmatic as the cosmos. Only time would tell if the Kingdom of Solarius would heed her counsel or if her visage would be but a harbinger of the cataclysm to come—a story etched in the annals of the galaxy, spoken of in hushed tones by starfarers navigating the wondrous and perilous expanse of the universe.

[bike42]

Thursday September 21, 2023

Yesterday after lunch, our leaders told us about the forecast for last night and today - rain and heavy wind. They gave us two options: skip the wet/windy hike and do a castle tour on the drive back to Inverness, or do a hike anyway. Jeff and I initially were the only ones to opt for the hike, but eventually all of the Wisconsin gang were in for the hike. After being out in the storm last night, our position weakened. I hate to change my plans because of the weather, but after 4 days of hiking in the rain already, we caved in (I was secretly hoping the leaders would have cancelled the hike for us so it wasn’t me wimping out).

We went down to breakfast and found the “Wisconsin Four” there, they’d already communicated to Jenn that they wanted to join “Team Castle” and I had the feeling that Jenn and Keith were glad when we opted out of the hike too.

Into the vans, we drove south - about an hour to castle Eilean Donan. I sat in the middle of the first seat and enjoyed the view of the drive, through little charming villages on Skye and then over the bridge (scary high on my scale, I hadn’t noticed on our drive over as the windows were so fogged)!

Back on the mainland, we soon arrived at the castle - and the scene was a little maddening to me with coaches and large crowds of tourists, I’d much rather be hiking through the highlands away from the crowds!

History on Eilean Donan Castle:

It’s an iconic image, situated on an island at a point where three sea lochs (Long, Duich and Alsh) meet. It was first inhabited in the 6th century, and the first fortified castle was built in the mid 13th century. Since then, at least 4 reiterations have been built and rebuilt as the feudal history of Scotland unfolded over the centuries. It was mostly destroyed in a Jacobite uprising in 1719, when the British gained access and used the stored gunpowder to blow it up. The castle laid in ruins until Lieutenant Colonel John MacRae-Gilstrap bought it in 1911 and restored it. The castle reopened in 1932, and is still in the MacRae family.

In the early 13th century, the castle was a defensive position during the time of feuding clan chiefs and Viking invasions. In this “Sea Kingdom,” the sea was the main highway and the power of the chief was determined by the number of men and ships (birlinns) at their disposal.

Over the centuries, the castle expanded and contracted in size. The medieval castle was probably the largest, encompassing most of the island. At the end of the 14th century, the castle was reduced to about a fifth of the size, probably to make it easier to defend. By the 16th century, hornwork was added to the east wall to offer a firing platform for newly introduced cannons.

We did the audio tour of the castle. While it was interesting, it was hampered by the crowds! Inside the castle, there were fantastic paintings and memorabilia - guns, swords, kilts, old correspondence, dishes and other household items. There was also a lock of hair from Bonnie Prince Charlie!

We had some time in the gift shop (of course) and we bought a small silver flask with a Hairy Cow etched on it … just in case we want to keep up the tradition of having whisky while we’re hiking!

Back in the vans, we traveled to the “Dundreggan Rewilding Center,” which was a new term to me. Rewilding is a progressive approach to conservation. It’s about letting nature take care of itself, enabling natural processes to shape land, repair damaged ecosystems and restore degraded landscapes. Through Rewilding, wildlife’s natural rhythms create wilder, more bio diverse habitats. We had a fantastic lunch there, then Jenn led us on a walk on one of their trails. Once again, she impressed us with her knowledge of plants and tress, and how we interface (and interfere) with nature!

The center is built in a beautiful 10,000 acre Highland glen, started with a project called “Trees For Life.” While the project is not without controversy, climate changes are helping the initiative gain momentum. The thought is that once the forests are restored, birds and animals will also return.

From the center, it was about an hour back to Inverness and our 10th hotel of this trip - The Ness Walk hotel. We had a couple hours of down time and met at 6:30pm for a final wine reception. We did a round robin of trip highlights - most said yesterday’s magical hike on the Quiraing, our awesome leaders, the Torridon hotel, and the people on this group! It is a rarity to not have ONE person that was even slightly annoying, and some deep connections have been forged - very different for a group, and certainly different than the lack of connective felt with most of our M&M tour! I think it’s mainly that like minded people sign up for a trip like this where you expect to be hiking in the rain?!

Our reception was followed by another great, but slow, meal. Jeff and I had one more Talisker 10 year Scotch, already missing Skye. Nearly 11pm when we crawled into bed.

[the-windy-glen]

Finally...I caught up with the Rainbow Cookies trend...sorta. Meet the brothers of the Windy Glen!

(This is also a tag dump btw)

Drifting Mistral

Gimmick: Wind that blows seeds(like Dandelion or Sycamore seeds) around to plant them

Protects: Newly sprouted plants, floating seeds and grassy plains

Weapon: Blow-darts (Makes you woozy and light headed, if not lethal)

Shy, but vvvv curious and innocent

Babey of the squad

Full of wanderlust

Wants to travel everywhere, all the time

Spaces out often

Autumn Breeze

Gimmick: Cool autumn winds

Protects: Fields, Maple forests, Orchards

Weapon: Small shortbow (Can use numbing arrows so the victim feels no pain)

Kind and Compassionate but too sensitive

Loves writing, crafts and drawing

Favorite genre is fantasy

Active imagination

Fragrant Zephyr

Gimmick: Winds that carry flower fragrances

Protects: Flowery areas

Weapon: Pyramid bow (Can make you fall in love)

He’s so flirty holy shit

So extra, like a theatre kid

Actually really sweet and romantic

Mature and not all that flirty with his family

Hair is made out of different flower petals

Some will wilt when sad, then grow new kinds of petals when cheered up

Stormy Gale

Gimmick: Typhoons

Protects: None, renounced his status (Used to protect jungles and cities)

Weapon: Crossbow (Arrows almost always lethal)

Used to be called Clear Gale, but then embraced the darkness due to emotional issues

The host of Night Raven

Depressed and angry

Needs therapy...holy shit does he need therapy

Had self-esteem issues, and was overworked, shy and often ignored as Clear

Has gotten tangled in...unclean businesseses before.

Frigid Flurry

Gimmick: Winter cold winds

Protects: Forests and mountains in the winter

Weapon: Longbow

Cold, detached, Rational and logical

Knows a lot

Has a heart, but hides it at all costs

Actually the one Stormy confides to

Likes figure skating occasionally

Sandy(Devillish) Gust

Gimmick: Sandstorms

Protects: Islands and Deserts, or areas near them

Weapon: Compound Bow

Memelord

Blasts Darude Sandstorm at 3 am in the morning

Sly little shit, every hour is mischief hour

Misplaced empathy but tries his best

Loves doing extreme sports, like bungee jumping

They can all communicate telepathically btw but they can block each other out UwU

[thefirstknife]

So, given the relics seem to be confirmed as body parts of some type, whose body parts *are* they? And are we facilitating their resurrection by bringing all their parts together like Exodia the Forbidden One?

Given the many recent nods and various hints, my vote is on Nezarec. Especially since Drifter said the relics remind him of "something from a long time ago." It can be a hint to the ice planet (given the planet's ties to Darkness), but since Drifter is the only person to have ever mentioned (and visited) something called the Fourth Tomb of Nezarec, it makes more sense that it reminds him of that:

"He says he's seen the deep side of Jupiter. Been to the Core Mines of Saturn. Name drops old myths no one's heard—the Luvial Crux, the Shift Chasms Below Elios, the Fourth Tomb of Nezarec. Goes on about the Idols of Lower Sul, the Treasure of Exodus Prime, the Solar Engine of Dead Star-Six.

"I think he's making most of it up, but he's got relics and etchings. He's got materials not of this system—odd metals, obsidian flames, thought engines, edible null cakes and a stuffed something that looks like a rabbit bio-fused with a cephalopod. He keeps all this stuff to himself—his 'gets,' he calls 'em.

Not only did he speak of the place, but he had items to prove that he's not lying, including "relics." The person narrating this lore tab is Shin Malphur, btw, so it can be considered reliable (especially since he didn't believe Drifter until Drifter showed him proof).

The "tomb" imagery fits with these reliquaries much better than the ice planet. Nezarec apparently had multiple tombs and it makes sense that any place where a reliquary of him would be placed to be considered a tomb. It would explain the "fourth" tomb.

There's been another mention of tombs this season: the seasonal exotic, Delicate Tomb. We have no clue who is narrating the lore tab for this weapon, btw. But it's something that's still "alive" and able to whisper. Just like the relics. From the quest for the catalyst:

"Nice-lookin' weapon, Guardian," he says. He takes it from you and tests its weight. "Very..."

A strange look crosses the Exo's face. "Huh," he says quietly, "though I heard something."

And Nezarec's Whisper:

On the floor, a length of unidentifiable metal caked in centuries of dust catches her eye. A glaive. Eris lifts it into her hand. Striations of red illuminate on its surface and throb like a heartbeat. The glaive's power feels faint—distant—and yet, an ember of something terrible still burns within.

A similar lingering power is also implied in the Delicate Tomb lore tab:

I am made finite. Personal. Bright and delicate to hide my true form. An intimacy.

They think me contained, but I am instead diffused, as vapor upon the wind.

Once again, I am becoming.

From what can be understood here, the fusion rifle, Delicate Tomb, is yet another relic. It was deliberately crafted to appear "bright and delicate" so it could hide the true form of the entity within. It also implies that the weapon gives people the false safety that the entity is contained inside, but it's clearly not as it can very much influence things around it. The last sentence also parallels something from the original mention of Nezarec, Nezarec's Sin exotic:

"He is that which is an end. And he shall rise again." —passage from Of Hated Nezarec, a pre-Golden Age text.

I'm not sure about the nature of us assembling him and what will happen when we do. I am still reluctant to say that we may see Nezarec as an actual talking, walking character. I would love that, but I don't want to hype people up. So, are we gonna put him together and he will show up and we'll have to deal with him somehow? No clue. But the relics whisper and this weapon whispers and his glaive still holds power and most of this lore indicates that this entity, whatever he is, still has power and some form of existence.

The one thing that I've been thinking about now is how it's more or less established that Nezarec was a Disciple in charge of the Lunar Pyramid. And on Nezarec's Sin, the text telling us about him is "pre-Golden Age." Somebody on Earth (? presumably) knew about Nezarec (somehow?) before the Traveler ever came to us. It reminded me of how strange the Lunar Pyramid is, deep inside the Moon, too deep to have gotten there by simply crashing. It's more or less in the core of the Moon. Unless they handwave it as the Pyramid getting inside paracausaly, it couldn't have gotten there by having crashed in the Collapse. Not only is it too deep and there is no proper impact crater, Nezarec (and the Pyramid?) were known to someone before the Collapse. Before even the Golden Age.

I think that Pyramid, and Nezarec, have been in our system observing us for a very, VERY, long time.

That's just a little side note about something that's been bothering me pretty much ever since I first saw the Pyramid on the Moon. How did it get there and when.

Bonus:

😂😂😂

[evanstarff]

Is it okay if you could possibly do Bucky? Something with him helping you sleep like scratching your back or whatever. I’m in the mood for some super fluff for Bucky.

❝ northern wind

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 555

Summary: Bucky Barnes doesn't do pillowtalk.

Warnings: Fluff? I think?

A/N: I am behind on everything. Thank you for your prompt, my love – I see 80% of these requests from way back when were for our beloved Bucko 🖤 Please don't send me any more prompts, everyone. All filled requests so far are tagged 'evanstarff drabble'.

Masterlist in bio!

---------

Night comes slowly, sweetly – and just a little bit softly. There's a chill in the air, beneath the sliver of light in the door, creeping slowly across the floorboards and a strange, comforting quiet he can't quite place.

Long, limber legs are drawn out alongside, skin to skin, thighs like marble, carved and worshipped by god's own hands – distractions, all distractions from sleep. A little like the warmth that seems to radiate from you, from him, it's hard to say – hard to really tell or comprehend as Bucky watches your eyes.

It's after midnight, your favourite time of night and a troubling time for slumber.

"Baby, come on," his sly, silver-blue eyes tempt you and his voice is a little lower than before. "You promised you'd sleep after this."

His voice is a little low, a little husky. From the heat before, mere moments ago, bliss swelled and sealed with his mouth �� on your skin, your chin, your mouth, between your pretty thighs, exactly where you wanted him, exactly where he loved to be.

"Sure," you hear the words stem from your mouth, somewhere in the hush and the haze. "But I was coerced."

There's a scoff. Soft laughter rumbling deep in his belly that he tries to hold off as his hands set shivers off beneath your skin, down your spine. Salacious bastard.

"I think you were the one doing the coercing," he replies, silver fingers never ceasing on skin. "I know you haven't been sleeping."

The meaning flies about, intention hidden, but its guise is pulled asunder. Yes, sleep was tricky, slippery too – shifting far and away in a way you found it harder and harder to grasp.

Bucky knew this, an understanding that was etched deep in his heart, sealed into his very bones. How years felt longer when you couldn't sleep, couldn't rest, when the thoughts got too much, too close to home until home was no longer what you thought it was. Sleep was two hour intervals, at times twenty minute spells carved by exhaustion. And yet they were a comfort now, simply because you could have him longer, consciously, while you were awake. It was easier to miss him when you slept.

A moment, maybe four, and then comprehension, and he's watching you again, realisation stark and astonished in his face at what he does to you – what you do to him.

"You know I'm right here," he says at last, serious now, truth spoken in the dark and the chill recedes a little more.

"I know," you reply. "I know."

I know, I know, I know. As if repeating it makes it easier to believe – the more you say it, the more it feels true, even against the shroud of doubt that clouds your mind.

Bucky breathes slowly, settles slower still, encasing you in heat, warmth, shelter that feels a little different from before. He's gentler, sweeter – his lips brushing soft on your cheeks, your jaw, carefully against your lips. Firmer now as if he's trying to assuage the fear, the anxiety from your very soul.

Silver fingers brush your brow, pretty pink lips brush your nose, and then your mouth again. Sweeter still and sleep slips in at last.

"Sleep, darlin'," he whispers.

And so you do.

---

All yelling is welcome via an Ask!

[atviera]

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Beneath the bleeding sun’s waning, a lone azure spectre wanders the edge of the desert. The mass slowly trods its way westward with intent unknown even to himself.

The Viera is enveloped by a large blue banner, leaving naught exposed but his two ears through precisely cut holes at the top. Perhaps at one time it was used to articulate the glory of Dalmasca, both banner and kingdom now a shell of its former self. The sun’s kiss upon his fur carries a sense of mild discomfort, an unusual feeling for one who thrived in the cold embrace of the Skatay Range.

Even with ignorance of the desiccated lands, his survival techniques proved more than fruitful thus far. Thoughts may have poured in about the duration of his sojourn, but Althyk, a deity anonymous to him at the time, granted his kin both blessing and curse of a longer lifespan. His lonely mind had better things to worry about, contemplation of the passage of existence would be utterly pointless, purposeless.

The Viera came to a complete halt, boots beginning to sink briefly into the sands. He let out a sigh that preceded rummaging for something at his midsection. Gauntleted hands parted the sapphire curtain, exposing pallid fingers with a sun-baked waterskin made of some tanned hide, and his fingers pinched the cap to unscrew. As the contents were ready to consume, he fixed his gaze to his surroundings. Seeing nothing and no one in his periphery, his hand raised towards his mask, disrupting the hollow, black eyes of his countenance.

The raised mask exposed a set of cracked lips, followed by him taking a considerable swig of water. Even with an inordinate duration in the sun’s gaze, the water tasted rather adequate, and he had no excuse to complain for the blessing of it altogether. As he set the mask back into place and returned the waterskin to his belt, a small amount of clinking chimed near his back, unfurling a glass jar with a thick cork cap, removing it with a satisfying “thwip”.

The wanderer lowered himself into a squat as the cloak crumpled to follow his motions. Arm extended to scoop a considerable sample of sand into the jar. The Viera presented a thin stone and scribed “Dalmascan Sands” onto the label, then returned the implement and container to the obfuscated supplies he carried. The mysterious gaze set upon the sands beneath him as he reached down to take a handful, elevating it towards his face. Grain by grain, the sand bled through the gaps between his fingers as an exhale echoed beneath his mask. Minutes passed as he looked forward, fist clenched and clasping nothing. A gentle breeze caressed his back and the wind whispered a portent.

He sprung up with due haste, knees slightly locked as the deserts began to wail. The winds billowed against both cloak and sand which began to create a whirling dervish. The Viera raised his right hand towards the heavens calling upon the elemental earth.

Three pillars of sand erupted around him, twisting in shape to coil around himself, followed by a binding of the grains to create a barrier of earth against the rising storm. He clenched the hand into a fist to concentrate the drawn aether from the spell. The Viera took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

As he opened his eyes, the shell remained intact. A still silence filled the air, the desert walker flicked his wrist, sands parting and blasting away from his figure with a gust of wind. His gaze turned slightly downward, slowly altering his path upon the transformed dunes, and meandered several yalms only to be interrupted by a glint upon the reddened sands.

The light cast a bluish hue upon his eyes and the conjuror approached it paced strides, sand displacing as he trotted towards the source. The cloaked Viera lowered himself once more. Upon closer inspection, the object jutted out with a point, cast in a shade of a steel-grey and engraved with bright blue, geometric etchings. He set his palm on the sands to the left of the mysterious object and brushed aside the ground, exposing the object further. The item was further laid bare, and the point would very easily be perceived as a corner. The conjuror took a deep breath and carefully plucked the piece reaching out of the earth.

The object presented itself as a structurally intact cube, composed of the grey plating and blue etching he initially had viewed. At the center of each side on the surface was a white circle, the point of origin where the engravings elongated from. Hesitation weighed upon the Viera for the first time in what likely was decades. His finger warily hovered over the centerpiece as he let out a long sigh.

The wanderer then pressed down upon the circle, emitting a click.

The etchings illuminated with a very faint glow, followed by a subtle whirr, quiet enough to be a whisper. The cube hovered about a fulm above his palm as the corners ejected from the button, exposing a near-white sphere with a dying light. A distorted tone emitted from the core which the Viera interpreted as the device turning on.

The core then spoke in foreign tongue with feminine voice, echoing in various pitches and volumes.

“W-w-w-WELCOME. KnowLEDGE unit ey-see-ex-oh-jee-you, VARiant nineteen DASH oh five dash eighteen DAsh fifteen is ONLINE. It has BEEN Seven. Thousand. Four. Hundred. FIFTY. Two. DAYS since this unit was last active. This UNIT may require an u-u-u-up-DATE.”

“BIO scan marks you as UNKNOWN. In-in-initiating NOVITIATE s-s-sequence. GreetINGS, novitiate, what can I-I-I HELP you with?”

Ignorant of the language being spoken, the Viera says nothing. After a pause, the device flashes a brief light.

“NOVITIATE, p-p-PLEASE provide a QUERY.” Nothing. “There has been ZERO. InPUT. This unit is now SHUTTING down. G-g-g-GLORY to the EMPIRE.”

The corners return to their places upon the sphere, making the cube whole. The conjuror looks down at the device and stands still.

After what feels like an eternity, the Viera nods, clutches the cube, and stows it away in his bag.

Beneath the bleeding sun’s waning, a lone azure spectre wanders the edge of the desert. The mass slowly trods its way westward with two mementos from his journey.

[hongssami]

Take Me Somewhere Nice

linonation, this one’s for us (also a small birthday gift for myself hehe) || chan ver, changbin ver, hyunjin ver

// mentions of bruises from dancing; overusing of the word ‘fingertips’ and ‘somewhere’; kiss kiss fall in love with minho

fluff, slight angst if you squint, established relationship? or is it slow escalation from friends-to-lovers? idek; reader plays the violin

description: Sometimes somewhere nice isn’t what you dream it to be. Perhaps somewhere nice wasn’t even a place at all.

w.c.: 957 (i couldn’t make it 1k this is so sad ;-;)

***

[masterlist in bio]

Across sleepy skylines and gaping trenches of unfamiliarity there exists somewhere nice; where it is is up to the seeker.

For you it used to run along the dainty, meticulous lines of your instrument, the curves and crescendos in the wind’s whistling, and the purest eyes that soak benignly into your soul while you wear your heart on your sleeve; some countless nights of blinked-back tears of happiness and soothing sounds of validation.

Take me somewhere nice.

That sounds like something lovers would ask each other in hushed tones, leaving their implicit trust with the other. They would ask to take them somewhere soft and silent, unseen and unheard of; somewhere nice. Beneath the ocean waves for a breath of fresh air or halfway across the moon, where the stars begin to feel close, but in reality they are perennially distant acquaintances.

There, where somewhere nice was.

In between sheets and silence where ghosts begin to sleep, you find solace. Almost alone but not quite. Not when he was there.

His touch has never been foreign, never been unwelcome, and unconditionally warm. Although there were times where you had warmer hands than him, it didn’t really matter. His caresses were always slow and lingering, cherishing every meeting of your fingertips ─ from the pinky, slowly to your ring finger, then middle, pointer, thumb ─ eyes never tearing themselves away from your connected digits. He does it as if handling precious china, but so loving that every press of his fingertips against yours sternly reminds you that he would always be the same.

Assuring you that he would never change.

Minho likes the roughness of your hands, the prominent callouses on your fingertips eternally awes him. How something so imperfect could create the art you’ve come to abhor and appreciate simultaneously makes him want to protect them at all costs.

“Doesn’t it hurt when you press too hard?” He had asked the first time he saw the remnants of your instrument’s strings etched on them.

“Not really.” You’d shook your head, letting him run his fingertips over yours. “Once you get used to it, you become numb. Isn’t it like that with your bruises?”

“No, I always feel hurt after a fall.” He frowned. “Isn’t it bad if you’re numb to it?”

“I’m… not sure.”

It’s funny because for Minho, somewhere nice was where he feels void of worry, void of fear for what’s to come; somewhere he can unapologetically be himself in the now. He hadn’t known that somewhere nice for him had your flawed self accepting his equally doubtful self.

Somewhere nice seemed like a place where you could be unsure and things would still turn out okay, where your doubts would be renamed as curiosity.

***

Where was somewhere nice?

Somewhere nice sounded like being with Minho when he falls for the thirteenth time when he’s practicing a dance routine. There was something there ��� between his less than perfect movements and messy lines ─ he was saying something. But you were never sure what it was by just watching his figure dance. You needed to see his face to understand; the curves of his lips and the wrinkles on his forehead told you everything.

Perhaps somewhere nice was when you’d successfully read his mood and he’d let himself be vulnerable in front of you. When he first interlocked fingers with you, because he never held your hand like that before. Maybe it was the dimly lit staircase of his usual dance studio where he told you he wanted to protect you no matter what and you, in turn, promised to be proud of him wherever the future would land him.

All those times where you could share secrets with the walls that whisper and the grounds that creak could have been somewhere nice.

***

“You should rest.”

But maybe somewhere nice was underneath his heavy eyelids where you could both waltz to your synced heartbeats; atop unmade beds where his eyes linger a second longer on your lips when he tries to look you in the eye; lurking sneakily between words that hold different meanings.

Somewhere between the breath caught in your throat when you feel his fingertips ghost the top of your shirt’s collar, right on to your bare nape and curious hands nuzzled haphazardly in the little space between your weary bodies, you begin to feel nice again.

You can’t really tell where your dreams blurred into reality because everything Minho offers you seems so dreamlike. His fingers press slowly onto your skin: pinky, ring, middle, pointer, thumb ─ the sequence ever so familiar, yet so pleasantly ticklish as he had never touched you like this before. He dawns on you like ocean waves against your curious soul, natural and just right. And he basks in the moonlight comfort that is your mouth.

It hits you that maybe, just maybe, somewhere nice was where you were Minho could hold you close like this, where his lips could flutter lazily across your skin like this, and where you could indulge in his warm embrace like this.

When you don’t need to think about a future or a past; or the lingering silence right after a small goodbye; or the slight pain in your chests that can only be cured by seeing each other again, only then do you both understand.

Where just you two are is somewhere nice to stay.

[lupicalled]

RAZOR’S TIMELINE/BIO: 

                   WHAT NAME HE WAS BORN WITH, razor does not know. he doesn’t know his parents were first-timers, or that he was an only child. he doesn’t know he was born with full, bushy eyebrows, and he didn’t cry when he came into this world. he doesn’t know that his parents loved him very dearly, so much so they couldn’t stand to leave him behind as they traveled through teyvat selling and trading goods. he doesn’t know he came from traveling merchants, nomadic in nature with hard work running through their bones, nor does he know they were traversing the harsh wilderness of wolvendom when they met their end to the dubious monsters that live there. he doesn’t know they gave their lives to save his. 

                 what he does know, however, is the mighty NORTH WIND, lupus boreas, found him as a crying infant in the mud and rain, and decided to take pity on the helpless child. blessings of the wind spirit were etched into his very skin that night - teeth grew to fangs, senses honed and heightened, and lupus minor was born. 

                 he was nameless for a long portion of his life, and knew nothing of the outside world of humans. all the wolfkin knew were the sounds of the forest, the dedication of his packmates, and what it meant to survive. he rough-housed with his wolven brothers, helped raise new litters, and learned to hunt with teeth and claws to feed himself. winters weren’t so harsh when you had a pack to keep you warm. he learned everything from his lupical.

                 a strange man came upon him and a few of his brothers one day - he didn’t smell threatening, but the boy dared not come closer. he was speaking to him, saying things he didn’t understand. but wolfkin was so curious, he stayed and listened. one of the few words he could discern among all the chatter was thus:

                                   RAZOR. 

                   teeth sharp as a razor’s edge, claws even sharper, it became his namesake each time the man came to visit. he learned bits and pieces. learned razor was a name, something he could call himself, and he could call the man varka. but eventually, varka stopped visiting. 

                   razor was both blessed and cursed by the gods once more, given his vision of roaring thunder. careless and still wet behind the ears, razor ventured out alone during a thunderstorm in hopes to catch sheltering boar off guard. instead, a cryo abyss mage caught him, and dragged him away into the night. he remembers near freezing to death, the pain of fingers numbing and teeth chattering, before members of his pack came to save him. or at least, they tried to. but the downpour coupled with roaring bullets of hail and ice proved too much for the young wolves. lupus minor watched them all perish in front of him as they tried to save his life. 

                  he remembers little after that. just boiling, explosive rage and a deafening crack of thunder. a wash of violet. the mage was dead, and razor was left with his vision. 

                 at first, he considered it a curse. a constant reminder of losing his brothers because he wasn’t strong enough to save himself. he became distant to even his lupical. he grew thin, often sought solitude, and howled alone at the moon. 

                 it wasn’t until another human came upon him that razor began to try and understand what his vision meant, and what he could do with it. this other human was different. she smelled nicer. talked softer. she was patient and came to visit him every day. she waited by the river for razor to come join her, and would share with him whatever treats she brought that day. she showed razor her own vision, the same color, and explained in simple words that she could help, if razor wanted it. 

                 lisa became a surrogate of sorts, teaching razor over the next few years not just how to control his vision, but how to speak. how to read. how to integrate with humans. how to understand emotions deeper than ‘hunger’ and ‘tired.’ razor always knew he was different, but it wasn’t until he began seeing more humans did he begin to understand in what ways. 

                 he hovers now somewhere on the edge of wolf and human, not enough of either to be considered just one, but too much of both to ignore. he resides in wolvendom with his lupical, is an ambassador of sorts for the wildlife, and protects the forest and those that might get lost in it. above all, he’s still trying to understand just who he is. 

[sockablock]

In another world, where things had gone very differently, Essek would’ve finished his deal with the Assembly by returning home, leaning back into an armchair, pouring himself a drink and finally diving through the research. What marvels he might’ve found! What wonders he might’ve read! What deliciously captivating fragments of probability might’ve leapt from the pages and tantalized his mind!

Even now, he could still taste the realness of that dream. He could grasp its perfume, sort of like...like stale blueberry...

“Apologies,” a voice jolted him back into the present, “Carlos is asleep, and I would feel guilty raiding the pantry. These old pastries will have to do. And, ah—”

Essek saw a kettle and two cups grace the table. One of them was chipped. The other was poured for him.

“You should drink,” Caleb said, sliding it over. “You have had...I imagine you need it, after today.”

Essek touched the cup and felt the steam stain his fingers. He watched as Caleb, still adorned in party-wear, slowly found his way into the seat across the table.

He took his hair out of the ponytail. Essek drank.

“I…I want to say,” Caleb managed, after heavy silence, “we…really, probably, are not your enemies here.”

The tea left a strange, bitter-sweetness on Essek’s tongue.

“Probably?”

Caleb shrugged, and Essek certainly did not blame him.

“Probably,” he agreed. “This is complicated. On the one hand, you are Essek, a new friend we are fond of, who invites us to breakfast with cheeses and bread and who deigns to teleport us.”

“There was wine, too,” Essek added without much mirth.

“On the other hand,” Caleb continued, “you betrayed us, you have been playing us, you lied to us and you have hidden the truth of your allegiance. You consorted with people who would kill me, kill you, kill anybody in the pursuit of power, with no regrets.”

A pause. Then Essek:

“...yes. That too.”

Caleb sat back, past the winding curl of steam, past the cinnamon and the cardamom and the whatever else was in their tea.

“And you have already explained why,” Caleb finished, almost for himself. “For however much of an explanation that was.”

Essek’s eyebrows shot upward. He set down his cup.

“Hang on,” he said quickly, “hang on, I…know that I am not in a place to criticize, but I would think that you beyond anyone would understand exactly what I meant. I was tired of limitations, and the restrictions, and the...the ignorance! I wanted knowledge. I wanted to know. And I believed...I believed the only way to get that was through this deal. Through the Assembly. And as stupid of a decision in hindsight that it was...at the time, it was the decision I thought would be best.”

In the silence that followed, Caleb met his gaze.

“Ja. And thousands died.”

Essek went still. He breathed out.

“...I know.”

Between them, the kettle cooled. Essek had to stop himself from flinching when Caleb moved.

“Really?” Caleb’s voice was low, but not quiet. “Do you really know? Because when last we spoke, you told me that the worst thing you ever did was anger your father. Not that you made a calculated decision to start a war. Not that you willingly participated in that war. Not that you took prisoners, or tortured people, or ruined lives, and not even that you had hurt one of us, too, through this strife. N—Veth’s husband. He was your prisoner, remember?”

Silence.

And then Caleb swore. He leaned forwards, pushed the tea aside.

“Scheisse, that is...that is not what I meant. I...I am sorry, I had not intended to say those things. The whole world is already your reckoning, Essek, I did not want to make things worse. Gods, I am sorry.”

But Essek shook his head. His eyes were fixed on the table.

“No,” he murmured, “but...no, you are right. And do not be sorry to me, please. I am the one who betrayed you, after all. I am…I am the cause of all these terrible things, and that is…that is not something I can ever apologize for.” He snorted, and it was a wet, ungraceful sound. I have done something monstrous, and continued to reinforce it, and now that I finally have regrets I am already a monster for it.”

It was quiet, after that.

Essek stared at his tea. He stared at the muffin.

“Why am I here?” he whispered. “Why did you bring me back here if not to remind me of what I have done?”

There was a pause, then Caleb put his elbow on the table.

“Would you like to guess?”

Essek made an incredulous noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I do not think I could guess right. I have never been able to understand you lot.”

Caleb didn’t move for a while.

Then he nudged the muffin forward.

“I would think, Essek Theylss, that you beyond anyone would be able to understand me, at least.”

He looked up, and their eyes locked in the dim light.

“And besides, I said earlier,” Caleb continued softly. “I told you that...ja, okay, maybe both of us are damned. And…part of why I was so harsh on you just now is that…as I said, I saw myself…I saw that in you. Both of us have done terrible things. We have killed, committed crimes, made decisions that ruined lives. But then we woke up. And now we’re still here. And we have people that we care about, and care about us enough to be willing to give us a second chance.”

He dipped his head. He leaned in closer.

“I have learned that I should try something this last year,” Caleb said. “Thanks to these people, I have learned how to give myself a second chance. Waking up from the fog is not always something that everyone will do. So when it happens, you have to seize that light. We are still here. We can still do something. Find your better self—” and he poked Essek in the chest, “find him, dig him out from whatever shit he’s hiding in, and rinse him off. It will never be too late to do something, but you must start.”

He sat back.

“And when you do start, Essek Theylss, we will be here to help you on. They were there for me. I am here for you.”

The steam from their kettle was almost gone, just a few faint wisps of warm spice left behind.

Essek put his hands on the table. They stopped shaking.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Caleb nodded.

“Of course. This is what friends are for, after all. And, ah…on that vein, I…I have something...”

Caleb went quiet, voice replaced with shuffling fabric, and Essek dared to run a sleeve over his chin, then look up—

He blinked.

“What is…” he stared at the bundle on the table. “What is this?”

The corners of Caleb’s mouth picked up.

“Just open it,” he said. “Take a look.”

Essek did. The look of surprise did not fade even as his fingers brushed the curved edges of the gift.

“An amulet?”

Caleb nodded. “You have, ah...as you said, found yourself in a bit of a tight situation. So...you should have—no, I want you to have this. Just...just in case. Think of it as a...a token of friendship, to let you know that we are on your side.”

Essek studied the runes etched onto the gem’s surface. “Divi...abjuration?”

“Something like that,” Caleb agreed, and he was smiling now. “Just promise to not disappear on us, alright?”

Essek ran the pad of his thumb across the necklace. The chain was worn silver, but polished as if from years of constant brushing against a cloth.

He looked up again. The night was softly quiet, with the flickering of the candle and the far-off, distant sea. The air still hummed with the warmth of their tea, maybe a little bitter, but always, gently, sweet.

And there was still a muffin.

Essek smiled.

“Of course.”

—

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