#Oikos Helping Hand

[oikoshelpinghand]

Elevating Dreams through Education

Education holds the key to breaking free from poverty's grip. But here's the twist – how much more impactful can education be for our scholars when they have the right guidance on their learning journey? This thought has been weighing on our minds lately, and it's a dilemma we're determined to address.

We've been fortunate to witness the incredible potential within our scholars. They're intelligent, sharp, and consistently excel academically in their schools. But here's the kicker: despite their brilliance, the harsh reality of living in a low-income community has made finding job opportunities an uphill battle.

That's where our exciting new program comes in! Last month, in August, our Educational Fund Officer, Justin, and the dedicated Principal of OHHLC School Janice, initiated this enhancement program. Over the course of two weeks, they delved deep into two critical areas:

We're truly committed to helping these exceptional scholars chase their dreams, and mastering the universal language, English, is a significant step forward in achieving their goals.

[eclecticwitchandpaganjean]

Deity Information: Hekate/Hecate

Now that I have established this blog, I feel I should start talking about deities for those who are looking to worship. I was torn between my three patrons: Bastet, Hekate, and Hestia; however, since Hestia didn't mind Bastet and Hekate going first, I tried to narrow my decision but truth be told, I was conflicted. On one hand, Bastet is my soul mother and I should honor her; however, on the other hand, Hekate is the goddess of witchcraft and a teacher of witches and thus should be honored on a blog about paganism and witchcraft and thus I used a decision wheel to decide.

Now before I get too far into this, I use the spelling of Hekate with a K instead of a C since the later spelling only became popular due to William Shakespeare's play Macbeth.

There are many accounts of who Hekate's parents are; however, I follow the belief that she is the daughter of Perses: Titan of Destruction, and Asteria: Titaness of Falling Stars and Divination.

Hekate: who is the Titaness/Goddess of witchcraft, poisons, ghosts, the night, the moon, the crossroads, and on some accounts: the goddess of boundaries, walls, and doorways. In Greek mythology, she was often seen as Chthonic Deity (deity associated with the dead) and an Oikos Deity (deity associated with the house and home).

After the Titanomachy, Zeus rewarded Hekate's loyalty, regardless of her father being on Cronus's side, dominion over Land (Underworld), Sky, and Sea regardless of Poseidon or Hades'es say so.

She does have the title as a mother as she has a few children as well: on some accounts, she is the mother to the goddess/titaness Circe: Goddess/Titaness of potions, sorcery, transformation, and enchantment, the demigods: Aegialeus - also known as Absyrtus - (King of Sicyon and Argos) and Medea (demigoddess witch known for repelling evil spirits in the story of Jason and the Argonauts, and known for murdering her own children to get revenge against her husband)[Also the slayer of her brother Aegialeus], and The Monsters: Empusa and Scylla (although before she was turned into a monster by Circe).

She is given the title of midwife as some say that she resided over the birth of Zeus himself and helped Rhea convince Cronus that the rock he was eating was baby Zeus.

One of her famous myths is where she became the attendant of Persephone/Kora. She happened to reside in the forest next to the meadow where Persephone and Artemis were said to be playing. Now I don't remember how Artemis left the picture; however, I do remember from the story that she heard Persephone's screams and went and found Demeter with Helios. I suspect that was when Circe was conceived due to Helios being Circe's father. Regardless, Demeter was notified of Persephone's disappearance. While she was distraught, Hekate lit her torch and braved the journey into the Underworld to retrieve Persephone/Kora. She then guided Persephone/Kora with torch in one hand and their hand in the other until they made it back to Demeter. Although everyone knows the story about the pomegranate and the being with Hades for half of a year and thus, Hekate, every year, escorts Persephone/Kora down into the Underworld and resides there during the winter months and returns with her every spring. I honestly think she does that since the lands are to barren to gather herbs for magic since most don't bloom or sprout in the winter.

Now, for Hekate and I's relationship. She and I have a neat little history, I have been worshiping and working with her since October of 2023 and we have had a great break through with my progress in witchcraft and paganism whether she offers her incites through dreams or divination means. If I was to describe her personality towards me would most likely be a German Shepherd Mother. She is kind and a great teacher but isn't afraid to show tough love from time to time. Although this feeds into my personal title for her to be my "Dark Mother Hekate" as I see her as sort of a mother figure just as I see my soul mother Bastet as a mother figure as well. But honestly, who wants to listen about my mother issues? Am I right? Now on with information about the things she likes as offerings from my experience of working with her.

basic information on the things she is associated with:

Herbs associated with her are: Almonds, Aconite (also known as Hecateis or Monkshood or Wolfsbane), Belladonna, Dittany, Cinnamon, Sage, Jasmine, Citrus fruits, Roses, Poppy seeds, Mandrake, Yew, Garlic, Angelica, Cypress, Pomegranate, Frankincense, Dragons Blood, Lavender, Mugwort, Mushrooms, Wormwood, Yarrow, Willow, Dandelions, Ebony, Garland, Oak, Saffron, Hag’s Taper (Mullein), Mint, Foxglove, Stones and Metals associated with her are: black tourmaline, obsidian, amethyst, hematite, smoky quartz, labradorite, moonstone, nuummite, opal, Symbols associated with her are: triple moon symbol, pregnant goddess symbol, keys, torches, knives, swords, the number 3 Tarot cards associated with her are: high priestess, moon, queen of pentacles, Animals associated with her are: snakes, polecats, dogs, flies, moths, horses, owls, cats, crows, ravens, magpies, Offerings to Her Include: a clove of garlic, keys, onions, honeycakes, images of her sacred animals, tealights, Breads, cakes, fruits, cheeses, onions, eggs, fish (red mullet and salmon), sesame seeds, almonds, libations of wine and honey, Candles, Bones, Fires - i.e. bonfires, Oil lamps, incense of her herbs, Crow/Raven/Owl Feathers, Statues of Her and Her sacred animals, Poetry, literature, and music you heavily associate with Her, milk, chocolate, Rose petals, Cypress and willow leaves, Frankincense, Seashells, Black dog fur, Dog nail clippings, Images of dogs (pictures, personal drawings, dog plushies, etc.), Keys, Personal offerings (nail clippings, hair), Anything relating to the moon (pictures, keychains, personal drawings, etc.), Round cakes decorated with candles, red wine, mead, Crescent shaped sweets, Pomegranates, Raw eggs, Mushrooms, Dandelion tea, Large candles, A cauldron, Imagery of dogs such as statues, toy dogs, paintings, etc., Incense (lavender and myrrh are great), Graveyard dirt (ask before taking! Do your research before gathering please.), Snake skin, Animal bones, Wands

Ways to honor her include: Helping and being friendly to dogs, Donating blankets, food, toys to animal shelters in her name, Volunteering at an animal shelter, Devoting time at night to her (meditate, talk to her, just have some silence for her, etc.), Sharing your experiences, especially painful ones and your anger or sorrow with her, Study herbs and planting herbs in your garden, Having rituals or casting spells during a dark moon and invoking her, Taking care of graveyards and keeping them clean, Holding a feast for her and having all her favorite foods and drinks

Holidays Associated with Her: Samhain (October 31st-November 2nd), Deipnon (Every new moon), Yule, Beltane (May 1st-5th), Lammas, Night of Hekate (November 16th), Day of Hekate At The Crossroads (November 30th), Day of Hecate’s Storm (August 13th), Festival of Hekate (August 21st) Midwife’s Day (January 8th), Feast of Hekate (January 31th), Feast of Hekate (January 2-3), Dark Mother Goddess Day (May 21st), Feast of Divine Life (September 21st).

Days of The Week Sacred to Her: Saturdays Signs Hecate is calling to you: seeing themes of three, seeing images of her sacred animals in physical, media, dreams, etc., feeling a dark but maternal and guiding presence nearby, seeing images of crossroads, coming across the tarot cards: the high priestess, the queen of swords, and death, feeling: power, strength, guidance, and protection in your craft. Another sign is flies/black moths: if the flie/black moth lands on your right side, then she is calling you to do something/ follow through with what you were intending/planning to do whether its build an altar, make an offering, do an act in her honor, etc. If the fly/black moth lands on your left side, then she is saying that she has accepted what you have done; such as she accepts your offering, is pleased with the work you have done in her honor, likes her altar, etc. Epithets: Aenaos: Eternal, agelong, ever-flowing, Aglaos: Beautiful, bright, pleasing, Apotropaia: The one that turns away/protects, Brimo: The furious, the avenging, the dreaded, crackling flame, Chthonia: Of the earth/underworld, Enodia: She on the way/road, Erototokos: Producing love, bearer of love, Daduchos: Torch-bearer, Trodia: Frequenter of the crossroads, Propylaia: Of the gates, Keeper of Keys, Goddess of The Crossroads, Goddess of Witchcraft, Guiding Light of The Darkest Nights, Blazing Torch of The Night

So there you have it folks. Pretty much everything I know/believe about Hekate. I treat this goddess/Titaness with the upmost respect and gratitude as she is one of the most reversed deities I work with and worship. I just hope I did her justice with this post.

first photo credit to IrenHorrors on DeviantArt, second photo is credit to Yliade on DeviantArt

[spiritsoulandbody]

#DailyDevotion Jesus Is Better Than Moses

#DailyDevotion Jesus Is Better Than Moses Heb. 3 And so, fellow Christians --- you're holy, and heaven called you as it called us — look at Jesus, the Apostle and High Priest Whom we confess, 2being faithful to Him Who appointed Him, just as Moses was faithful in God's whole house. 3He deserves greater glory than Moses, as the builder of a house is honored more than the house. 4Every house is built by someone, but He Who built everything is God. 5Now, Moses was faithful in God's household as a servant who was to testify of what would be said later, 6but Christ was faithful as the Son in charge of God's household. We are His household if to the end we continue unshaken in our courage and in the hope of which we boast. The author moves from how Jesus is greater than angels to Jesus is greater than Moses. Our translation today is trying to make a dynamic equivalence to explain the first verse but I think a literal translation is actually more helpful. We are "holy brothers." We are participants, fellowshipers of a holy calling. We are made holy by our calling. We know we are called because Jesus baptized us with His name.We are called and made holy first by Jesus' calling through the Holy Spirit. Consider the Apostles and all the disciples. They were all called first, made holy and then started conducting themselves in holy ways. Since this is our status, we should look at Jesus, "the Apostle and High Priest Whom we confess." Jesus is the Apostle because He is the One the Father has sent to redeem us. Apostle means sent one. Jesus prays to the Father in John 17, "18As You sent Me into the world, I sent them into the world." We confess Jesus as being sent by the Father. We confess Jesus is our High Priest. Hebrews will elaborate more on Jesus being our High Priest. Sufficient to say, Jesus offered up His own blood to cleanse us from sins and intercedes for us at the right hand of the Father. Jesus is faithful to the Father who appointed Him "just as Moses was faithful in God's whole house." So now we begin with the comparison of how Jesus is better than Moses. Jesus is better than Moses because Moses only looked after the house as a servant and is part of the house. Jesus built the house. God built the house and Jesus is God. Jesus says in John 14, ". . .because I go to prepare a place for you. 3And when I have gone and prepared a place for you, I'll come again and take you home with Me so you'll be where I am. You know the way to the place where I'm going." Now Moses testified as to what was to come. Jesus was faithful in fulfilling all the promises of God. Moses was faithful as a servant. Jesus is "faithful as the Son in charge of God's household." Now house or household is from oikos which also means family. We are God's sons in Christ Jesus. We are His family. Jesus is in charge of us. We are His brothers, children and citizens. We are this if we remain faithful in this hope of which we boast. This hope that Jesus has us, called us, made us holy is our hope and this hope gives us courage to face the day and all obstacles in life. We know this life and everything in it is passing away. Having a sure and certain hope in Jesus and the future He has for us in the world to come gives us the fortitude to get through everything. Heavenly Father, continually give us Your Holy Spirit that we may be faithful to Your Son Jesus Christ and live in the hope He gives us as His household. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen. Read the full article

[thrassa]

I find I'm a bit at a disagreement over your view of Odysseus where it concerns the slaughter of the maids/servants, to be honest.

When Odysseus returns to his home, he is seeking the truth over what occured during his time away. He asks Eyrikleia about the manner of the servants as well as how many of them showcased disdain towards their house and how many remained innocent in their ways (meaning, faithful to their Oikos).

Eyrikleia is the one who speaks of the 12 maids sleeping with the suitors (willingly, may I add - Wilson's mistranslations that erase and add assault according to her personal bias are of no importance), plotting and scheming alongside them and also, showcasing disrespect both towards her (who was in charge of them) but also towards Penelope.

Those acts were worthy of punishment in the Archaic Era - one did not continuously bite the hand that fed them and was left unscathed.

Therefore, Odysseus' mercy or lack thereof isn't what is important here.

He acted according to the law and moral code of their society (Homer's society, really).

Now, as per the rest of your story, I honestly don't know if I should add anything in form of suggestion or criticism as it's really not my place but alas, I'm not great at keeping my mouth shut.

As a writer, I completely respect your right to certain artistic liberties but as a Greek, I have to say that it doesn't really feel as though you're retelling the Odyssey but just EPIC, which is already a heavily altered and severely Westernised version that exists in its own sphere (whitewashing Kirke and Kalypso, having Odysseus wound Poseidon with his own trident, having Zeus spewing prophecies etc).

Given that, I really think you could benefit from having Greek sensitivity readers like @wordsmithic help you along with the process and make sure you're not taking great leaps (as such a headcanon very easily disrupts the entirety of the mythical Hellenic world and its balance after the Trojan war - what happens to Telemachos? Why should his eventual rule be disrupted? Does his line die down? What occurs to Ithake, then? What about the rest of those who were entwined with them? Orestes? Elektra? Hermione or Nausika?) that could cause the myth to become unrecognisable or in any way disrespectful (not saying that that's something that you could be aiming for or purposely doing but it's very easy to get things wrong when dealing with cultures that you are not really connected or well acquainted with).

Anyway, I don't really mean to discourage you or anything of that sort, I'm just really cautious when it comes to people writing about the myths and would love to see it be done in a proper manner that offers us some amount of representation that isn't stigmatised by stereotypes or anything else that Western adaptations attach to them.

Hello! I'm planning to write a story that asks what might have happened had Odysseus brought Astyanax back to Ithaca to raise as his own rather than the boy being killed in Troy, and I thought it would be nice to name it in a manner that goes in line with the Odyssey and the Telegony; do you have any suggestions how that might work from a linguistic/etymological standpoint?

I suppose you would go for a title after the main character’s name like it happens with Odyssey and Telegony, right?

I guess we should follow at the steps of these two but we have to first see how they are formed in Greek.

Οδυσσεύς (Odysseus) -> Οδύσσεια (Odysseia)

Τηλέγονος (Telegonos) -> Τηλεγόνεια / Τηλεγονία (Telegon(e)ia)

In this sense, I suppose a story about Astyanax would be:

Αστυάναξ (Astyanax) -> Αστυανακτία (Astyanaktia).

I think an ε - e should not be added in this case because Odysseia and Telegoneia have some grammatical reasons for taking it that would not exist in Astyanax’s case.

I feel strongly though that you should not shape it into something like “astyanaxia”. That “x” should be dropped to “kt”.

So Astyanaktía I guess and then in English this would turn into Astyanacty, I assume.

I will say that I am not 100% sure. I wonder if you could instead say Αστυανακτίς / Αστυανακτίδα. (Astyanaktís / Astyanaktíða) which in English could be shaped into Astyanactis or Astyanactid in the fashion of Ilias / Iliad (and Aeneis / Aeneid, though that’s Latin but I think there’s Greek grammatical influence in coming up with this title).

The more I think about it, it’s Astyanactis that sounds more proper to me.

Astyanactis (the stress in the ending -is)

But I am definitely not sure about this, if any Greek (speaker) wants to weigh in, feel free to.

[misscammiedawn]

Hypno Asks Answered 5/5

40. Do you like feminization hypnosis? Why? No. 41. Have you ever experienced a “hands-free” orgasm as a result of hypnosis? I cannot recall it ever happening. It may have happened, but I do not think it would have been something I actively hunted for. 42. Which famous person do you think has the most hypnotic voice? David Tennant's voice is gorgeous. I'm sure it would sound better in seductive whispers… 43. If you make hypnosis content, what’s your favourite piece of content you’ve made? Ooof… the video game, the photographs, the videos or the prose? It's so hard to decide. For now I'll say "As Slow As You Need" https://readonlymind.com/@LadyDawn/AsSlowAsYouNeed/ The Penny/Beth stories are about Goddess and I and are about me grappling with my asexuality before I had firmly stated it. My favorite of the trilogy for fun shenanigans is the third one Dinner Date: https://readonlymind.com/@LadyDawn/DinnerDate/ If you're interested in my hypnokink photos and videos: Fantasy Video: https://twitter.com/Camden_Dawn/status/1456108783487361024?s=20&t=ZpRspjSYwTH2hT5Iw4VRnA Educational video: https://twitter.com/Camden_Dawn/status/1531374071296016386 Photos: https://twitter.com/Camden_Dawn/status/1566552217842290690?s=20&t=ZpRspjSYwTH2hT5Iw4VRnA I'd rather not link the game. I'm no longer affiliated with the studio. But the interactive hypnosis sex scene was pretty damn good, not going to lie. Proud of myself for writing it. 44. Have you ever used hypnotic conditioning to help you or someone else with a part of your/their life? I sometimes tell Sleepyhead to focus when she needs to stay on task and pain management for Goddess. But I'm not comfortable using hypnosis for anything beyond that. 45. Have you ever been to a hypnosis convention? Did you enjoy it, or not? Why? I have. Charmed 2020 and Beguiled 2022. Both were important. Beguiled is where I fell in love with my long distance partner and Charmed 2020 was literally the week I came out as transgender. Both conventions were extraordinarily special events in my life. 46. How has being involved with hypnosis/the hypno community improved your life? Unambigiously yes. They are my life now. 47. What is one thing about the hypnosis community you think could change for the better? I would love for us to have a single platform to exist on. We've been scattered to the winds time and time again and it would be nice to just have a unified community instead of pockets. 48. Who is one person in the hypno community you really admire? So so many people, but above all would be Goddess, Lady Ru'etha. She made The Oikos out of love. She had her Realm of Bliss podcast to provide a soft resource in the earliest days. She's always been an important foundational individual within the community. 49. What is your favourite hypnosis-themed blog on tumblr? Presently I am enjoying Hypnopum's daily prose: https://www.tumblr.com/hypnopum

[quantumlocked310]

In the Bed of Love - Chapter 2

Moodboard by the incredible @flowers-in-your-hayr!!

It’s Chapter 2! This one switches POV to Hvitty’s favorite Gorgon.

Summary: Our intrepid Hero Hvitserk, burdened with glorious purpose to prove his godhood, takes the epic journey to slaughter the Gorgons, but stumbles in love along the way.

Warnings (so far): greek mythology inaccuracies, slow burn 

Ratings + Word Count: [General - 1,765w]

Series Masterlist (contains extra notes about Greek words and some of the Gods mentioned) Now with more Gods!

Extra Relevant Note: Malakas means Asshole in Greek (according to Google Translate)

++++++++++++

The early dawn is quiet, with dew glistening off the statues in the garden, and you’re the first awake in the house. As usual you walk quietly to the dresser where you get the silk robe gifted to you from Dionysus. Enrobed you walk down to the kitchen where you take a small cup of wine and yesterday’s bread out to the garden for breakfast.

There are a few stumps scattered amongst the statues, and you sit on the one closest to one of your favorite statues. Malakas the goose, who thought himself brave one day as he bit the ankles of your sister, Sten. You and Marmor had collapsed together laughing at the swiftest of you being chased at length by the ornery goose. Sten had yelled and screamed at it, to no avail, before finally giving in and glaring it to stone, and proclaiming his name Malakas.

“Good morning, friend.” You greet the goose and pat it on the head, but notice there’s something different about him today. Inside its mouth is a piece of paper, slightly crumpled, with ink on it. You look at it puzzled, then look around the garden a little, but see no one. After dipping your bread in the wine and taking a bite, you put the cup on the stump and grab the paper. Only to immediately start coughing.

It’s a crude drawing of you standing in offense with your shield. Clearly, the artist has no skill, but it’s obvious the figure is yours both in size and you’re the only one of your sisters who can carry a shield as big as this one. You’re a little flattered, and a little suspicious. The gorgons train together every evening, but this paper wasn’t in the goose’s mouth yesterday.

After finishing the bread and wine, while staring at the drawing, a million thoughts run through your head. Foremost concern for your security, and who could be watching. The gorgons were fearsome creatures, and that attracted idiots who wished to prove themselves against a mighty foe. Hence the many armored statues around you. Then curiosity, and why this person would focus on you. Once your foes reached your gates, they usually focussed on the muscular strength of Marmor, or the svelt speed of Sten, not the chunky bulk of your body made for sturdy defence. It was useful in battle, being underestimated. But it was never an advantage for love.

Sten didn’t care about copulation or partnership, and Marmor had a sometimes-something going on with Haphaestus. You loved your sisters, and you loved your life in the Oikos, but there were days when you wanted what Aphrodite and Eros talked about or what you saw at gatherings with Dionysus. Pleasures within and beyond your dreams were always just out of reach, because you were a gorgon, a monster. The risk of loving you was too great.

Why would anyone find you beautiful enough to put on paper?

The feelings well up inside you, and burst. You crumple the drawing in your fist, a few tears escaping your eyes, and immediately regret what you’ve done. Slowly you stand and smooth the paper back out, then go back inside to place it in the drawer of your bedside table.

You put on your clothes for the day, then put on a chestplate and greaves. It’s decided, you will check the perimeter and see if you can find whoever is spying on the Oikos. On the way out you run into Sten who is weaving in the inner garden.

“I’m doing a perimeter check.”

“Would you like company?” Sten responds absentmindedly.

“I’ll be okay. Keep half an ear out in case another one of Philoctetes’ useless heroes is lurking about.”

“I dunno. The last one was cute. Maybe it’s time we had a mortal as a pet.”

You roll your eyes and counter, “I’ll be sure to mention that if I find one. I’m sure they would be willing to live under threat of getting chopped into tiny bits and fed to our snakes.”

Sten turns her head and raises an eyebrow, “You might be surprised.”

You scoff and turn to go, “I’m never surprised anymore.”

As you walk through the garden to the north side of the Oikos, you try to shake off this strange mood that the drawing has put you in. The edge of the cliff is your first stop, and you center yourself listening to the rushing waters of the Styx below. You see Charon in his ferry and raise a hand. As usual you get the most minute nod in return, and you make your way east along the forest border, taking light steps as Artemis taught you, and tuning into your snakes scenting the air.

Over halfway done, and you haven’t found anything of note. A few of the traps Sten maintains have caught small game, and you cut some of the excess string to tie them together and drape the catch over your shoulders before resetting the traps.

On the last leg of your check your snakes perk up. They sway further West and you follow, keeping your light hunting step, and making sure to draw your sword. You go further into the forest until you can no longer see the bright signal of the Oikos, and then you find it. There is a patch of disturbed leaves and earth where a small fire had been. The ashes are almost completely brushed away, and the leaves spread over to make it blend into the ground. If you did not have your snakes to guide you to the scent you would not have found it. Whoever had camped here knew how to cover their tracks.

Unfortunately, your snakes couldn’t help you track any further. They knew if something was prey, or different, but they didn’t have the skills of hunting dogs. Once you found the spot they had scented, they would not know where to track from there, and your meticulous circles around the ashes yielded no more results.

You huff to yourself and when you finally stop, your stomach gives a mighty growel and you observe the sky. You’ve missed the mid-day meal, and it was past time to start daily training. Marmor is going to be insufferable. In your haste to sate your hunger and get to training you neglect the last leg of the perimeter, much to the luck of the prowling Hvitserk who had no idea how close he came to being discovered.

When you reach the edge of the forest there’s a twang and a zing, and you twist behind the nearest tree, shield on your back, pressed against the bark. You watch the arrow dig into the wood of the tree in front of you.

“What the fuck, Sten?” You shout.

“You’re late!” Replies Marmor.

You groan to yourself then shrug the shield off your back and use its shiny metal to see where your sisters are. Slowly, you pull off your catch for dinner from around your neck, and get ready to throw them at your sisters. Raising your shield in front of your body to deflect Sten’s arrows, you launch the strung together animals over your barrier, then shove forward to put your whole weight behind your shield, in hopes that you will shock Marmor and throw her off her feet.

It works. Marmor’s annoyance has her getting thrown off briefly, and the training session really begins. You block and parry, attacking when you can, but mainly trying to cover your open spots when Sten shoots arrows toward you. You’re late, so they’re both going harder on only you.

But your head isn’t in it. The moves are harder to come into your mind than usual, your footwork not as instinctive as yesterday. An off day all because of some faceless enemy stalking in the trees. Who are you kidding, it could just be a traveller. But the way the ashes were buried has you nervous.

And the drawing. Marmor’s sword clangs against your shield just in time. How could you forget? Were they connected? Could you get away with telling your sisters about the perimeter check but not the drawing? You didn’t think so. Your gut is screaming that they’re connected.

But now your gut is screaming, because Marmor kicked you.

“Fuck you!”

“Focus up! What if an idiot hero comes here? You’re not going to win fighting them like this.”

“Oh. My. God. I know!” Your snakes start hissing as they pick up on your anger, and you keep hacking and slashing toward your sister, trying to disarm her even though you know it won’t get you anywhere.

All you want to do is stop and think for a few minutes. Plan your next moves. Figure out who is watching you and why. And why would they draw you? That’s the part that’s gnawing at you the most. There’s a weird fluttery feeling in your chest and you absolutely hate it.

You use your anger to back up your power. Attacking furiously where you would usually stay back and block. You’re reckless and Marmor gets in a few close calls with her sword. You’re trying to block a particularly vicious swing of the sword when you hear Sten call your name, the duck seems to happen in slow motion where you watch the arrow fly just past your brow, and feel the sting of a sword on your thigh. Marmor has pulled her sword down across the top of your shield and you hadn’t pulled your leg back in time.

“First blood!” Sten yells, and Marmor pulls up and stops, only looking a little apologetic.

The wound is just a scratch for you. It stings, and will heal in a few days, but first blood stops the fight.

You rest the edge of your shield on the ground and lean on it just slightly, staring at your sisters. “We have to talk. Inside. It’s not safe out here in sight of the woods.”

“You found something.” Sten remarks. You glare at her. If you’re being watched, you definitely don’t want to be heard.

“Then let’s go eat. You must be hungry, Y/N. You’ve been out all day.” Marmor says, her eyes narrowing and trying to covertly scan the treeline. She walks over and grabs the game you had thrown as a distraction earlier.

Together, you walk back to the Oikos. Quiet and a little sullen. Your sisters don’t like off days any more than you do, and they are anxious to hear what you’ve found.

++++++++++++

If you want to read other stuff I write here’s my masterlist

Taglist: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @punkrocknpearls @solinarimoon @artemiseamoon @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @southernbe @vikingstrash @ritual-unions-gotme @pomegranates-and-blood @mrsalwayswrite @jadelynlace​

[soon2bthinn2]

May 23, 2021

Goal: <1,000 cal. ✅

1 Dannon Light + Fit strawberry cheesecake Greek yogurt (80 cal.) + 1 banana (105 cal.) + 1 Sparkling Ice+ Caffeine (5 cal.)

1 Oikos Triple Zero salted caramel Greek yogurt (100 cal.) + 2 red delicious apples (160 cal.) + 1 Protein One chocolate fudge bar (90 cal.)

3 oz grilled chicken nuggets (110 cal.) + 1 bag steamed carrots (100 cal.) + 1/4 cup peanuts (170 cal.) + 1 Fiber One fudge brownie (70 cal.)

Total: 990 cal.

I'm officially 5 weeks binge-free as of today and I'm quite proud of myself for that. And god knows I need anything good I can get my hands on right now since my life is going to shit at the moment. My weight loss progress is probably about the only thing I can control right now. Having a successful day with my calories at least lets me know that I can count on myself, no matter what else goes wrong. I'm doing the best I can to help myself, to not add more problems and stress to my already stressful life. I stay under my calorie goal so that I can reach my UGW, then I won't have to lose weight any more and it will be one less problem for me to stress about in my life. That's what's keeping me going right now. 😔

[moodboardinthecloud]

Gathering Council: World of Witnesses

by Sophie Strand 

https://www.facebook.com/photo?fbid=10226588198557848&set=a.1499832382446

Scarlet Tanager. Woodcock. Yellow-throated Vireo. Thimbleweed. St. John’s Wort.Black locust. Honey locust. King Bolete. Cayuga Soil. Schist. Bluestone. Turkeytail. Mountain lion. Coy Wolf. Trillium. Columbine. Mountain Laurel. The Shawangunk Mountain Range. The Esopus Creek. The Millstream. Sturgeon. Purple Loosestrife. Wolf spider. Chanterelle. Osha. Phlox….The litany lasts about an hour, or as long as it takes for me to boil the water for my pour over of coffee and watch streamers of clementine dawn stripe across my living room. Lately, it’s spilled into my early morning run. But by the time I’m done summoning and sending thanks to every being I know in a twenty-mile radius of my home, I’m surrounded by a world of witnesses. The day begins within a more-than-human community. And my decisions henceforth– practical, creative, and spiritual – will be made with the knowledge that I exist in relationship. Everything I do is ecological. When I used the word ecological, I root back to the original etymology: Greek oikos for household. I am not a noun on an empty page. I do nothing alone. I am a syntactical being, strung together by my metabolism and needs and desires, to thousands of other beings. Together we are all a household, and every choice we make, mundane or explosive, takes place within the networked household of relationships. I did not arrive at this practice intellectually. It was not an exercise or a molded habit. It was a lifeline. Anyone who has been seriously ill, or has had a near death experience, will know that it cuts the metaphysical chaff. Illness and injury act like a bottleneck. You are squeezed through, pressurized and simplified. Only the most intrinsic beliefs, prayers, and ideas travel with you through to the other side. I was raised by spiritual parents who wrote about and researched religion and mantric prayer. I was given beads and taught Tibetan Buddhist, Zen, and Catholic prayers from a very young age. I found these repetitive vocalizations to be steadying. But I often struggled with the abstraction of the Christian prayers and the language barrier between me and the Buddhist mantras. Drawn to study, understand, and reinterpret the words, I was increasingly cognitive about prayer, rather than embodied. But after my first-time experiencing anaphylaxis, one of the charming bouquet of symptoms that arrived with the onset of my genetic condition at sixteen, I realized the prayers evaporated with oxygen. As my throat narrowed and my blood pressure dropped, as I watched the people around me reflect my own panic, I realized the only thing that stayed were the animals, and the fungi, and the trees, and the mountains. In those moments I found myself growing as small as a sunflower seed, planting myself on the sandy banks of a river island, halfway down the Battenkill River. I could see a sapphire splash of a kingfisher in the water. Smell sunlight baking the ryegrass into sweetness. Feel the drifting lick of a dragonfly darting across my shoulder blades. I was suspended between life and death. But I was held, not by a prayer or a god or an idea, but by a landscape. By the aliveness that was me, and was also much deeper than me. I didn’t learn this lesson immediately. Not the second, not the seventh, not even the fifteenth time I came through the bottleneck. But each narrow passage winnowed me down to essentials. And what I kept coming back to, in hospital beds, on the bathroom floor, in the ambulance, in my own arms, late at night, trying to assess whether or not to drive myself to the hospital, was that while very little of human civilization stayed with me or offered comfort, an entire universe of life exploded on the other side of these experiences, welcoming me into a greater sense of community. I found myself remembering the mountain lion eyes I once stared into, the marble head of the bald eagle somehow distinct against the similarly white haze of a blizzard. The glittering scent of the lilac grove overtaking the old bluestone quarries on Lewis Hollow. Soon, when I went to pray, I found myself summoning my counsel, in gratitude and also in a petition for their help and their instructive audience. How best may I act? How may I act knowing you are watching tenderly and attentively? What stories do I need to notice? What stories want to be told? Who needs my help today? And whose help can I receive? The potent thing about creating a counsel of beings you live alongside, is that, unlike an abstracted god, they actually show up. The heron does, in fact, dissect the sky, providing a symbol of incisiveness just at the moment when you need to make a decision. The ground really does provide a soil womb for the food that you will eat and metabolize into music, laughter, dance, heated breath on a windowpane, lovemaking. The fungi really do hold the forest together and provide a medicine that heals your brain and rewires your immune system. These are the guardian angels that have roots instead of wings. They are attached to place, and the more you summon them, the more they will show you that there is a miracle in every footstep, a deep abiding embrace in every biome-laced breath of fresh air. This is not a taxonomical exercise. Any name will do. Any way of tracking that invisible and intimate line of connection between you and another being. You exist, not as one end of that thread, but vibrating along its connection. Anything you do to harm yourself, harms other animals and trees and insects. Anything that nourishes other beings, may ultimately nourish you. And when you are suffering, when you are very scared, you do not need to remember a single prayer, or say a holy word. Your body, a doorway poured through with matter, a spider-webbing of relatedness, is prayer enough. Every second you stay present with your connectivity to your ecosystem is sacred, somatic, lived epiphany. If you pray, ask yourself, does your prayer have roots? Does your god sometimes grow fur? Do your holy words grow leaves? Does your spirituality connect you into your situated ecosystem? If you want, it is a lovely thing to slowly name all those beings that make up your environment. And to seek out new relationships to further flesh out this relational prayer. Gather counsel as you would wildflowers. Pick the ones that show up brightly, insistently, and show you they notice you, just as much as you notice them. Gather counsel as you would pick up a few flat stones to skip across the river. Gather counsel as you would stars, without your hands, held only as a flash of light, in the prismatic blink of an open eye.

Image by @tinorodrigriguezartist and @virgoparaiso

[carlyun]

To stop climate disaster, make ecocide an international crime. It's the only way

The Paris agreement is failing. Yet there is new hope for preserving a livable planet: the growing global campaign to criminalize ecocide can address the root causes of the climate crisis and safeguard our planet – the common home of all humanity and, indeed, all life on Earth.

Nearly five years after the negotiation of the landmark Paris agreement to limit greenhouse gas emissions and associated global warming to “well below 2.0C above pre-industrial levels and to pursue efforts to limit the temperature increase even further to 1.5C”, we are experiencing drastically accelerating warming. 2020 was the second warmest year on record, following the record-setting 2019. Carbon in the atmosphere reached 417 parts per million (ppm) – the highest in the last 3m years. Even if we magically flipped a switch to a fully green economy tomorrow, there is still enough carbon in the atmosphere to continue warming the planet for decades.

The science is clear: without drastic action to limit temperature rise below 1.5C, the Earth, and all life on it, including all human beings, will suffer devastating consequences.

Yet only two countries – Morocco and the Gambia – are on track to meet the 1.5C target. The largest emitters, including the United States, China, Russia and Saudi Arabia, are putting the world on course for 4C. At that rate, the polar ice caps will melt, causing dramatic sea level rise that will – in combination with other devastating effects like strengthening storms and droughts – cause mass famine, displacement and extinction.

Currently, much of humanity feels hopeless, but the establishment of ecocide as a crime offers something for people to get behind. Enacting laws against ecocide, as is under consideration in a growing number of jurisdictions, offers a way to correct the shortcomings of the Paris agreement. Whereas Paris lacks sufficient ambition, transparency and accountability, the criminalization of ecocide would be an enforceable deterrent. Outlawing ecocide would also address a key root cause of global climate change: the widespread destruction of nature, which, in addition to increasing greenhouse gas emissions, has devastating impacts on global health, food and water security, and sustainable development – to name a few.

Ecocide shares its roots with other landmark concepts in international law, including genocide. Indeed, ecocide and genocide often go hand in hand. Around the globe, ecological destruction is also decimating indigenous communities. To give just a few cases: Brazil’s Yanomami are facing mercury poisoning generated by the 20,000 illegal miners in their territories. 87% of Native Alaskan villages are experiencing climate-related erosion, even as they face growing calls to drill on their lands.

Conviction for ecocide would require demonstrating willful disregard for the consequences of actions such as deforestation, reckless drilling and mining. This threshold implicates a number of global and corporate leaders through their complicity in deforesting the Amazon and Congo basins, drilling recklessly in the Arctic and the Niger delta, or permitting unsustainable palm oil plantations in south-east Asia, among other destructive practices.

As a term, “ecocide” dates to 1970, when Arthur Galston, an American botanist, used it to describe the appalling effects of Agent Orange on the vast forests of Vietnam and Cambodia. On the 50th anniversary of the concept, we can take heart in the growing civic will to officially make ecocide an international crime.

Already, citizens, scientists and youth activists including Greta Thunberg are calling on global leaders to introduce ecocide at the international criminal court (ICC). Following the lead of climate-vulnerable ocean states Vanuatu and the Maldives in December 2019, President Emmanuel Macron of France vowed to champion it on the international stage last June and has proposed a version of it in French law. Finland and Belgium both expressed interest during the ICC’s annual assembly, and Spain’s parliamentary foreign affairs committee has issued recommendations to consider it. The EU has also voted to encourage its recognition by member states. And Pope Francis was ahead of the game in November 2019 when he called for ecocide to become an international crime against peace. The Stop Ecocide Foundation has recently convened a panel of heavyweight international lawyers to draft a robust legal definition of ecocide which this growing list of states can seriously consider proposing as an amendment to the ICC’s Rome Statute.

Printing in China.

Criminalizing ecocide gives us the unprecedented chance to create a protective measure with legal teeth that could deter reckless leaders from damaging, short-sighted policies creating accountability in a way that Paris does not.

Just as important, we could motivate corporations to make dramatic shifts away from an unacceptable status quo that too often favors the destruction of nature for short-term profits. As ecocide becomes an impending legal reality, corporate leaders would be forced to adapt, and quickly, re-examining the way they do business and make decisions with our planet in mind.

But ecocide would not just be a punitive measure for corporate leaders. It would also offer considerable opportunities for new sustainable ventures. The pristine areas that ecocide targets – virgin forests, wetlands and our oceans – are precisely the places that have value far beyond mere extractive industries, including in sustainably developing new pharmaceuticals that may help in the current Covid-19 pandemic and in future pandemics. True leaders in the public and private sector would much prefer ethical, sustainable and long-term value creation that does not exploit nature or humanity. By outlawing bad actors, we will empower many more good ones.

As a global community, we cannot wait for more warning signs or the “right moment”. Last year alone has seen devastating examples of ecocide: fires ravaging the Amazon, the Congo basin, Australia, Alaska and Siberia all at unprecedented rates; a large oil spill in Ecuador; and unending, accelerating plastic pollution, which could weigh up to 1.3bn tons by 2040. Unfortunately, under cover of Covid-19, ecocide has accelerated. Deforestation in the Amazon basin increased by 50% in the first quarter of 2020, with rampant fires reaching a 13-year high in June.

In the midst of a global pandemic that demonstrates humanity’s shared vulnerability – and our need to work together collectively in the face of crisis – we must begin to understand that what we do to our ecosystems, we do to ourselves.

Indeed, the meaning of ecocide is fully encapsulated by its etymology. It comes from the Greek oikos (home) and the Latin cadere (to kill). Ecocide is literally “killing our home”.

[oikoshelpinghand]

Celebrating Our Career Counseling and Development Completers!

These scholars have dedicated themselves to a two-week journey of self-discovery, goal-setting, and crafting their paths to success. They've completed the program and emerged as more empowered and confident individuals ready to chase their dreams with determination and enthusiasm.

[oikosmaintenance-blog]

Why do you need a professional residential cleaner?

Keeping your house neat and clean takes a lot of time, effort, and energy. No matter how religiously you do it you still will need deeper and better cleaning. Throughout the weekdays it’s not possible for you to leave your work aside and start deep cleaning. And when its weekend you are tired already and obviously it calls for family-time. Your home needs to maintain hygiene especially when you have kids and pets around you.

So, the benefits of calling a professional for deep cleanings are –

•          It provides healthy indoor air- it’s already polluted outside, but when you come back home you need to breathe in the fresh air. In order, t do that you need to keep your indoor clean, dust-free, and allergen-free. Improving your indoor air quality you need a professional to check and clean it up for you.

•          You get family time – you can actually relax and enjoy spending time with your loved ones. So what are you waiting for? You can actually surprise your wife by calling in a professional residential cleaning at your place.

•          Right tools and technique – you always won’t know how, where, and what to use when it comes to deep cleaning but you can always rely on a technical residential cleaner.

•          Saves you ample time – whether it’s weekdays or weekend you will always have time to spend with your work and family. So save yourself a lot of time and call in a professional guide to take care of your home.

•          Spotless bathroom – bathrooms are the nastiest place and that bothers you often. But with professional deep cleaning, you can have a spotless bathroom. That sounds relaxing, isn’t it?

•          Cleans every nook and corners - where you can’t even imagine of reaching your hands a professional residential cleaner will help you with that and that too very particularly. So why are you making your own routine more hectic one? Just call them in and enjoy!

•          Carpet cleaning sounds easier now – they even take care of your carpet that really needs professional hands and deep cleaning at least once in a month. Let them take a bath and you enjoy a clean home whenever you need it.

These are all those basic necessities that every home needs and the best professional you can get is OIKOS MAINTENANCE. The most popular residential cleaner in Surrey downs. Call them whenever you are looking for the best home cleaning service.

[phcking-detective]

1. Caught Dead with a Beretta

Fic Title: First Blood

Rating: E

Length: 1/33 chapters, ~128k

Tags: Slow Burn, Idiots to Lovers, Trans Character (gavin), Autistic / Asexual / Non-binary Character (nines), BDSM, learning to use good etiquette and safe words, Dom Nines / Sub Gavin, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter Tags: suicide, death / murder, verbal hazing

Link on AO3

***

Gavin's sick of working suicides—they're depressing as hell and aren't going to do anything for his promotion. He's just got to the crime scene already wants to go home. It's fucking ass'o'clock in the morning, and he hasn't slept worth shit, so of course Nines texted to let him know about the scene the second he'd finally dozed off. 

The elevator ride up to the two thousand square foot loft gives him enough time to get hit with shit, did I take my meds before I left home? Fuck. Maybe? 

Goddammit. Maybe he should switch to those patches and gels instead of a weekly injection. Taking his T is the one thing he never, ever forgets, so if he switched to something he could do daily and took his meds for the BPD and ADHD at the same time … 

The elevator doors ding open, ruining his train of thought. Nines is here already because he doesn't fucking sleep, apparently. That hot fuckboy he sucked off once—and the beat cop for this side of town—Brayden, is in there too, but Gavin's most recent bout of soul-crippling insomnia has actually worn him down too much to be horny. 

Well, too much to put forth the effort for flirting, at least. 

"—huh, Nine Thousand?" Brayden says as Gavin walks up. 

Nines doesn't respond. 

"He's RK nine hundred," Gavin says. "Not like the meme. Super disappointing." 

Brayden grins. "Yeah, but I mean like, the movie." 

"Nine thousand?" 

Gavin frowns, trying to force his stupid idiot brain to think. All he can come up with is 300. Maybe it's a movie based off of that one book? The like, underwater … and submarines. Something-number thousand leagues under the sea? No fuck, that's not nine thousand. 

"Two thousand," Brayden says. "And one." 

Shit, is that the number of leagues or the title of the movie? 

"Man, I am way too fucking tired." Gavin waves him off. "I'm not even into that film shit. I just like action movies." 

Brayden heaves a deep sigh. "I've seen your file, Gavin. You're too smart to willingly lump yourself in with the uneducated masses." 

"May we proceed with the crime scene, detective?" Nines asks before Gavin can reply. 

Brayden flinches a little. The only reason Gavin doesn't get scared himself is because he's gotten used to Nines not breathing or moving—until he suddenly does. Makes people jumpy as shit to realize they forgot about the giant fucking android just standing there.  

Not blinking. Or breathing. 

"Go ahead," Brayden says with a sweep of his hand, like he didn't just jump half a foot. 

"May we proceed with the crime scene, detective?" Nines asks instead of complying. 

"Yeah, sure," Gavin grants permission. 

Nines proceeds. Gavin tries to hold back a smirk. Brayden's the pretentious kind of asshole who loves explaining shit no one cares about, but he's pretty hot too, and Gavin's not quite ready to burn that bridge to Terra-dick-bia by pissing him off. No, that sounds terrible. The bridge to … mm, dick. 

Damn, he's tired. 

He follows after Nines, a little worried he might wander off in his sleep-deprived state and get lost in all this square footage of prime fucking real estate. Even saints would have to work to feel sorry for dead people as rich as this. 

Finally, he stumbles into a section of the open floor plan that seems to function as the living room. There's a flat screen tv nearly as big as the wall it's mounted on, a coffee table made from a whole chunk of mahogany with a half-full tumbler, and a dead guy sitting in a chair with a gun in his hand and a hole in his head. 

The TV still blares out the news, and the vic's own face flashes out at them. 

"This the Ponzi scheme guy?" Gavin asks. 

"Maverick Russell, age forty-seven." Nines shoves a finger inside the vic's mouth with no shame or preamble. "Blood alcohol level point-oh-nine-seven. The entry wound in his head appears to be consistent with a nine millimeter Beretta." 

He takes a small packet out of his Cyberlife jacket pocket and somehow has the coordination to open it one-handed. Gavin wrinkles his nose at the antiseptic smell as Nines sanitizes both hands with the wipe, even though he only touched the vic with one finger. Then he lifts that same finger to the victim's head. 

"Hey!" Gavin barks. "What have I told you about that shit?" 

Nines stares back at him with that unblinking, lizard-eye look. He touches his finger to the entry wound but doesn't push it in. Just brushes it back and forth, which is somehow way freakier. 

"The entry wound in his head is consistent with a nine millimeter Beretta," Nines says. 

"Great." 

Gavin walks a perimeter around the designated living room space. At first it's just to keep himself awake, but by the second circle, he's got one of those gut feelings. Something about this scene is off. Fuck if he can tell what though, 'cause the victim was drunk, watching his own demise on the news, and has a bullet in his head from the gun in his hand. 

"You feel that?" He asks. 

Nines cocks his head to the side. "The circulating air temperature is seventy--" 

"No." Gavin huffs and starts on another circle. "Do you like … you feel what I’m feeling?" 

"Your question is incomprehensible." 

Gavin sighs and grinds the heels of his palms against his eyes. He bites back a comment about this being why androids can't make good cops. Fuck knows why he's bothering to be nice now. He just wants to get this shit done and go home. 

When he opens his eyes, everything swirls with black spots in front of him. What's bugging him about this? The guy is dead, the gun is in his hand, the news says—

Gavin blinks the spots away and stands in front of the vic. Fake tan, but high enough quality that it'd look real if he didn't live in fucking Detroit. Decently fit, and the open kitchen on the other side of the room has one of those blenders that cost more than his car. The loft's decorated in masculine colors, all brown and navy and black leather. 

"Go check out the kitchen," Gavin tells Nines. "Tell me what's in the fridge." 

Nines does as he's told, but only after considering it. Gavin takes back the lizard comparisons. He's like a cat. One of those big jungle cats that's smart enough to eat the humans hunting them. 

"Dannon Oikos triple blended greek nonfat yogurt, coffee, four pack, five-point-three ounce cups," Nines says. "Dannon Oikos trippled blended greek nonfat yogurt, peanut butter banana, four—" 

Gavin rolls his eyes. "Just say yogurt. What else does he got?" 

"Yogurt. Eggs. Milk. Sparkling water. Chicken breast. Mayonnaise. Sliced ham. Apples. Protein shakes." Nines opens the freezer. "Chicken breast. Chicken breast. Chicken breast. Chi—" 

Gavin starts giggling. He can't help it. Nines turns around and glares at him, deliberately flashing his LED red for a second. 

"OK, fuck off, it's late," he says. "I'm like, super tired. Just analyze that shit or whatever and tell me if his food matches any of the latest high protein fad diets." 

"Yes," Nines replies so instantly Gavin wonders if he actually even looked it up at all. "The victim's food intake matches the Eight Step Enligh—" 

Gavin waves him off. "Yeah, yeah. Cool. Does the bar have gin, vodka, and vermouth?" 

Maverick Russell, definitely confirmed for one of those ultra-rich masculine gym types. Not like, an actual gym rat, just that generic rich person level of fitness achieved through liposuction, personal fitness trainers, and the latest fad diet. 

"Yes, along with seven other distinct liqueurs." Nines finishes checking the bar and returns to the living room. "How is this information relevant, detective?" 

"This drink and that gun don't match," Gavin says when Nines returns. 

Nines cocks his head again. "Match." 

"Yeah. I don't see any Bond memorabilia in here." Gavin takes another quick glance around, but the entertainment center doesn't display any vintage DVDs, and rich film buffs are not subtle about displaying their collections. "He ever purchased anything like that?" 

Nines's LED spins yellow for about half a second this time before he replies. "No. There are no significant purchases of memorabilia relating to the James Bond books or movies present in Maverick Russell's finances." 

"OK, then why the fuck does he have a Beretta?" Gavin asks. 

Nines looks at the victim, and then back at him. "That is what he shot himself with." 

"Yeah, but why," he stresses. "Would this guy—this self-obsessed, rich guy masc, desperate-to-be-cool motherfucker—have a Beretta?" 

"It is the tool he used to complete suicide." Nines frowns. "Is there a reason he would not have a Beretta?" 

"Because it's a ladies' handgun," Gavin says. "This guy's got three different TV remotes, a flat screen covering an entire wall, jesus, how old is that scotch?" 

Nines sticks his finger in it, because of course he does. "One hundred and twenty-three years old, consistent with—" 

"Shit, I would've thought this guy was trying too hard when I was twenty and desperate to be cis," Gavin mutters. "Look, I fucking promise you, this particular man literally wouldn't be caught dead with a Beretta—unless he's a James Bond fan. Even then … hey, Brayden!" 

"His input is unnecessary, detective." Nines cleans his hands with another sanitary wipe. "If you would be more clear—" 

His jaw shuts with a click as Brayden jogs over. 

"Hey, you like the Bond movies?" Gavin asks. 

Brayden heaves a tortured sigh. "I really prefer foreign movies, but for an American—" 

"All right, sure. Would you ever kick it with a Beretta?" 

Brayden bites the inside of his cheek, opens his mouth, then closes it with a frown as he thinks about it. 

"What if you were like, a super fan?" 

"Why?" Brayden glances around the loft with an interested look. "This guy have some collector's memorabilia?" 

Gavin shakes his head. "Nah. But why else he's got a fucking Beretta?" 

"Well that's not the drink for it," Brayden says immediately, then scoffs. "A scotch?" 

"Yeah, and he had the shit to make a martini too." 

"Weird. You thinking …" Brayden trails off, then winces. "Ah, shit. We uh, we got a guy a floor down. Said he heard the shot that, you know. But he said it was two bangs. And you know how shit witnesses are about getting anything right, and the TV was on and—" 

"That's shit I need to know," Gavin snaps. "Doesn't matter how stupid you think it is, you're the first officer on the scene, you report every-fucking-thing to the responding detective." 

"Yeah." Brayden clears his throat. "My bad." 

Gavin lets it slide only because now he has something to go on. "Whatever. Check me on the precon for this, RK." 

"Preconstruction running, detective." 

"So we got two shots." Gavin backs up so he's approaching the living room from twenty feet away. "So we should have two guns. The perp, coming in here, gets shot 'cause the vic's only got the one entry wound, but—" 

Nines touches the victim's hand, and then his cellphone buzzes. 

The distribution of gunshot residue on Maverick Russell's right hand is not consistent with a Beretta. The gun he fired has a longer muzzle and larger caliber. My preliminary preconstruction matches it to a .500 S&W Magnum. The victim has four registered in his name.

Gavin closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. Would it fucking kill him to send that in five separate texts like a normal person? Now he's going to look dumb as fuck staring at the screen for five minutes trying to read one paragraph. 

OK, he’s got the fifty caliber Magnum, that's easy to read. Longer muzzle, larger caliber, right. 

"So the vic has a fifty caliber Magnum instead of a dinky Beretta, makes a lot more sense." 

Nines doesn't correct him, so that must have been the gist of the message. 

"The perp gets shot—" 

"Where's the blood though?" Brayden asks. 

Gavin glares at him. "Can you let me fucking work?" 

Shit, he's doing it again and this is why no one wants to work with him because they fuck up--everyone fucks up, he knows this, he fucking knows this--and then he just can't let it go but why the hell does Brayden think he's allowed to speak right now when—

He's not in trouble. He's not in trouble, it's just the loft, being in another rich empty room again. None of them are children and he's not in trouble. 

His cellphone buzzes. 

The floor has been scrubbed clean throughout the loft. I did not realize that was relevant information. I will give you full reports of my analysis moving forward.

That's not too bad to read, and concentrating on making the letters stay still actually helps him cool off a bit for once. Gives him something to look at other than Brayden's pretty, hurt face or the perfect fucking interior design that still feels like when he was thirteen and— 

Gavin shoves those memories aside and starts typing out a reply. 

just text me that shit

I'll prolly yell if u try telling me about the floors at every crime scene

"Am I dismissed then?" Brayden asks. 

Gavin looks up from his phone and can't force out any sort of apology. He never can. And anyway, fuck him. If Brayden wants to get pissy about getting snapped at twice after a legitimate fuck up and interrupting a senior detective mid-sentence, then sure. He can fuck right off. 

"Go get the maid," Gavin tells him. 

"The … android?" Brayden asks. 

"No, the roomba. Yes, the fucking android maid. Someone scrubbed the floors clean." 

And the side table.

Gavin doesn't bother with texting back this time. "That where the blood splatter would have hit?" 

"Yes, detective," Nines answers out loud. 

Gavin turns back to Brayden. "So there's your answer. Get the maid, 'cause I doubt the perp stuck around himself to clean the entire two-thousand square foot floor." 

Brayden hesitates. 

"She's still here," Gavin asks. "Right, Officer Burton?" 

Brayden gives a curt nod, but he breaks into a run as he leaves. 

AP700 #480 913 876 is located in the foyer of the building, along with Officers Miller and Abrahamson. I have sent alerts to their cellphones that the AP model is needed for questioning.

Gavin starts to ask how Nines knows that but … isn't this what he was literally designed to do? 

"She's not a suspect yet," he says instead. "So cool it, Terminator. And don't hack peoples' phones. That's what the officers have walkie talkies for." 

Nines makes a face like Gavin just suggested they all start using smoke signals. He's not exactly the type to go all buddy-buddy on witnesses himself, but they're definitely not going to get anywhere with Nines scaring the thirium out of their one lead. 

Gavin takes a moment to wallow in how much he hates this before he calls Hank. At least if he has to be up before dawn, so will that motherfucker. 

"We do not need assistance from Lieutenant Anderson," Nines says, his expression souring even further. "Or my predecessor. I recognize that I did not meet the necessary level of efficiency when I neglected to—" 

"Hey, this isn't a punishment," Gavin says, tilting the phone down away from his mouth. "I fucking hate Connor too, and when we have an android suspect, I get that's your thing. But right now we have an android witness, and that's his." 

"Ahh, fuck," Hank's voice comes out of the phone. "Sun's not even fucking—goddammit, Reed." 

"We will be at your location in twenty minutes, Detective Reed," Connor's voice says next. 

Gavin stares out into space as what's left of his soul collapses in on itself at the confirmation that those two really are fucking. Not even just fucking, they're sleeping together. In bed, for literal sleep. 

"Nines, tell them they're disgusting," Gavin orders. "You can put way more hate into it than me." 

 "Disgusting," Nines says with a sneer that would put Gavin's mother to shame. 

Gavin hangs up before Hank can reply. "I know you lack the capacity and all that shit, but if it makes you not-feel any better, I bet you five bucks the perp's android." 

"Based off of what evidence?" Nines asks. 

"Took a bullet and kept going." Gavin steps back into place where the perp probably walked in. "He's got the Beretta, but it's just a gun to him. He grabs the vic's gun, maybe disarms him, maybe doesn't even have to after the first shot." 

"The blood vessels on the victim's wrist have not been damaged." Nines starts cleaning his hands again even though he hasn't even touched anything this time. "Why would the human stop shooting?" 

"TV's on, he's drinking, has a gun out already." Gavin shrugs. "Might have been a suicide interrupted by a murder. Might've fired the first shot just being scared, y'know, gut instinct." 

Nines just looks at him. 

"Or you don't know, whatever." Gavin rolls his eyes. "But once he realizes what's happening—maybe he couldn't pull the trigger himself, but now here's someone gonna do it for him. Maybe he just sits back down. That still work with your preconstruction?" 

"Yes," Nines says. "Along with two thousand, one hundred and fifty-eight other scenarios." 

"Whatever. And just like, for the record, don't ask Hank about how this suicidal shit works," Gavin tells him. "Hank might not care, but those are fighting words with Connor." 

Nines doesn't move a single centimeter as he stares silently at him. 

"And don't fucking fight with Connor, we don't have time for it. Anyway, if anyone gets to pick a fight at a murder scene, it's me. So." Gavin walks up to the chair with his hand pointed like a gun. "The perp gets him back down, shoots him in the side of the head, then switches the guns so the ballistics will match." 

"He could have taken the victim's gun." Nines's LED spins a few yellow cycles. "It is registered in his name. The suicide would have looked more authentic." 

"And that's why I'm thinking our guy's an android," Gavin replies. "Someone who hasn't ever seen a movie before in his whole life. Thinks a gun is a gun is a gun. I mean, you didn't know why the Beretta was weird, and if you made A Plan to kill a guy with this gun, would you switch it up in the middle?" 

Nines's LED immediately hits blue, but it's that fake-blue that means he's really covering up a red. Gavin almost kind of … has a feeling about it? 

But then the elevator doors open with Brayden and the android maid inside. Gavin's got a burned bridge, a possible eye witness, and an a murder to deal with. Worrying about his partner's not-feelings will have to wait. 

***

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1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23 / 24 / 25 / 26 / 27 / 28 / 29 / 30 / 31 / 32 / 33

This fic is also available on my Patreon! $1 tier gets you each chapter a week early, so you could be reading chapter two right now~

$2 tier gets you deleted scenes and bonus content--this week, it’s extra scenes about how Nines was found at Cyberlife and how he gets his first apartment

$3 tier gets you access to the first chapters of two new AUs I’m currently writing--an A/B/O universe in which Gavin is a bitter omega and Nines is his android partner determined to help him during his heat; and a Reverse AU where GV200 “Gavin” is assigned as Detective Richard Stern’s sobriety companion

[breathing-in-gilded-dust]

DIY Wreath for the Household Theoi {Part One: Creation}

This is the devotional project I was working on yesterday! This is a tutorial for how to make a paper rose wreath for the Household Theoi, accompanied by my reasons for creating it. Please note that this took me 16 hours in total to create, so it wasn’t a quick- or even an afternoon- diy. However, I am incredibly happy with how it turned out, and do think that it was worth my energy to create it myself. Part two coming soon!!! Picture and Text tutorial below the cut. 

What You’ll Need:

Vanilla, brewed black tea, or watercolour paint (to soften the edges of the roses and add a brown/yellowed colour to it)

Paint Brush

Tape (I used two rolls of scotch tape)

Yarn

Scissors

Cardboard

One small circular object, and one large one (to create your wreath’s shape)

Pen or Marker (trace the circular objects on the cardboard, and mark spots later on)

8.5 x 11 inch Sheets of Printer/Drawing Paper (I used so many pieces, so I can’t give you a definitive answer for what you’ll need. It will also vary on the circular objects you use. I used two pot lids for my wreath)

Putty, Command Hook, etc (to hang your wreath)

Lots of time and patience

Gather your supplies, and find a large, flat space to work on. I recommend somewhere that you won’t have a hard time vacuuming/sweeping, and will be able to sit there for a while. I used my kitchen table.

To make your wreath’s base, first place a large circular object on some heavy paper or cardboard. Trace it, and cut the circle out. Align a smaller circular object inside of the large one, and trace that as well. Carefully poke a hole in the center of your small circle, and cut the tracing you did. Set this aside for later.

Fold your paper in half ‘hotdog’ style, and open it back up.

Fold your paper in half ‘hamburger’ style, and open it back up.

Cut along the lines you folded.

You will only need three of these rectangles for one rose, so go ahead and separate these from the extra one.

Lay one of your pieces in front of you, the shortest side facing you. Fold it up to the otherside, evenly divided by the fold.

Take the lower left hand corner of the folded edge, and bring it to the top, forming a triangle.

Fold it over itself again.

Then, fold the two edges of the paper towards each other, leaving the edge of the triangle visible, meaning that is facing the outside of the fold.

Draw a light outline of an arch on the triangle, from one edge to the other. This will form a petal shape.

Cut out the petal shape, and separate the two flower shapes you have created.

Do this with the remaining two rectangles (steps 6-11).

Cut out one petal from one flower, two (connected) petals from two flowers, three (connected) petals from two flowers, and cut one flower into two pieces along one fold.

Roll up each petal-piece, and tape at the edge where they meet. Cut off the pointed part of the cones you make to make a spot for the yarn to go through. Do this for every piece you created.

Cut a piece of yarn, at least 4 inches long. Tie a -semithick knot at the very end, and trim the short edge. Tape the very top of the yarn to keep it from fraying.

Thread the smallest cone into the yarn first, with the large opening of the cone going towards the knot. Tug gently to make sure it is secure. Do this with the remaining cones, going from smallest in size to largest. You may want to turn or fiddle with the layers to make them look more realistic. As you get to the end, you’ll notice it starts to look like a rose.

Mark a spot on your cardboard wreath, where you think you’d like your rose to be. I layered mine in a diagonal, closely placed style. That helped make it look full and voluminous.

Carefully pierce the spot with your scissors, or another desired tool.

Thread your yarn through the front side of the wreath, and pull tightly on the back.

Tape it down, and trim the excess yarn. If the yarn is long enough, you may be able to use it for the next flower by knotting the other end (this helps by not forcing you to re-tape the yarn at the end each time).

Make as many flowers as you desire, and place them on the wreath as you finish them. This will make it easier to gauge how many you’ll need, and you won’t accidentally make too many roses.

When you’re finished, or before moving on to the next flower, brush the petals lightly with the vanilla/brewed black tea/brown watercolour paint. Focus on the outer edges, and the petals that you see more prominently. I like to do this as I make the flowers, and go back after a couple are done and add more of my mixture to add depth.

After you fill your wreath with flowers (which will take forever, trust me), you can add any details you wish to. I kept mine plain, because I really like its simplicity, and timeless beauty. But you can add things like smaller roses of different colours, ribbons, and decorated signs. I love this ancient Hellenic phrase used to protect homes from evil and thought it could be a wonderful addition to your wreath: 'Herakles Kallinikos lives here: let no evil enter' (Emma Stafford, Herakles)

You can hang your wreath indoors only, since it is made of paper which doesn’t last when exposed to weather. I am hanging mine on my bedroom door. It could be a wonderful addition to your kitchen or living area as well. You can use a command hook, putty, or whatever else you desire to hold it up.

Dedicate your wreath to the Household Theoi that live within your Oikos (see the part two of this post for an example and reason for this wreath’s creation).

[elizabethrobertajones]

This is why I have always assumed moogles take their share of the gil and do the collecting. Saves a lot of headaches about when where why, and they can operate across shards since they also took up postmoogling in the First so this isn't TOO weird to think they would continue doing their infrastructure jobs :') Maybe it was something the Ancients set up since we know they already had the whole system in place and everyone since then has never innovated a better way to travel so it's just a time immemorial function of aetherytes/moogles if they do it. (I'm willing to die for this headcanon :P)

Maybe when you teleport and arrive, they can tell how much stress you just put on the system and if you're doing cross universe travel then they're like WOAH THERE KUPO I don't care where you came from that's 1500 gil just for the unholy screaming noise the aetheryte made when you popped up next to it!

It only costs 150 gil (favoured destination :P) for me to pop from Elpis to the Crystarium, and that's geographical based on the aetheryic connection between the tower and Elpis we have, so the only way that makes any sense that it's only 300-150 gil for that trip is that it's just easy to make because of the Tower and its power and also that the portal is close geographically to the first aetheryte in the zone and vice versa. The First zones are ordered by distance from the Crystarium in the teleport list as if you're only a short distance away from the Crystarium as well, going up in their small increments based on their distance, likewise if you look at Elpis locations from elsewhere in the First. So I think you're right that the Tower helps just because of the way it works between Elpis; it makes sense that it's both a giant aetheryte in of itself for the purpose of that specific travel, and also definitely playing a role in centering itself between those two sites so that it is so cheap and mysteriously "close" together to go from like. Poiten Oikos to Mord Souq or something.

Also since the changes in EW they've moved the First "closer" to Mor Dhona, when I think it was always 999 to the Crystarium even there during Shadowbringers, now it also is only a 500gil trip as far as I recall without logging into the game. Because once again the tower is right there and there's a portal between the two you can manually use if you WANT to go so far out of your way that's the original trip you took in the Syrcus Trench. If we pretend the gil rebalancing is something that also happened circa Endwalker, maybe it DID used to be a 999 gil strain on resources to do that hop but with both time and WoL doing it way too often, and also backdating the chance to level 67 MSQ, maybe using the tower as a big aetheryte just sort of loosened the whole thing up and now it's just smoother to make all these huge leaps from the right places. It's cheaper overall to get to the First than it was before.

Anyway even if it's not moogles, I assume it's something that's evident from arrival and taxed locally and we just skip a cutscene of the Wol handing over a purse of coins on arrival every single time they do it, and someone there is doing the maths on how much was expended on your trip. Maybe that's why people are always trading crystals, for keeping the aetheryte maintained. And that's what the costs are for... I am pretty sure gil isn't a magical component for travel purposes :P it just being a low level job in any medium to large settlement for one nerd to sit around monitoring the aetheryte and fighting with the surly adventures who pop out of it is a great NPC to make up a guy about then get mad at for charging you 1500gil XD

....

(At the very least, Mowen is Eulmoran and her tomestones representative only was allowed in the Crystarium by the time of EW so I guess there were capitalists from Eulmore moving there and missing the tomestone trade who wrangled permission for a trader to set up in the Crystarium... I LIKE to think that because of the timeline this only happened once the Exarch was gone long enough for people to start thinking that was a great idea as their cultures mixed and principles watered down :P)

someone should (that is, i will) examine the pay rates for aetheryte use on the First vs on the Source. and in that case who is billing us. huh. i doubt there is another central bureau of aetheryte teleportation in novrandt of all places. (but then again. tomestones farming is canon. G'RAHAAAAAAAAAAA). or does OUR bureau on the Source go like "huh! strange! they teleported to the same coordinates but on what seems to be another dimension. how did they- well nevermind. all that matters is that they pay their bill". is there a difference between teleporting, for example, from lakeland to kholusia or from kholusia to the Source. can the bureau on the Source tell the difference? how would they even detect teleportation that happens on another star entirely??? and like. given the uh. tense diplomatic relations between the crystarium and eulmore i doubt they would have built a common aetheryte system (or would they have been legally forced to? by whom???). though eulmore's aetheryte IS restricted. wait i am an idiot, the infrastructure probably existed before the Flood, they only had to maintain it / build a new one in the crystarium. but still: how do we get billed for aetheryte use in Novrandt!!!!! i'm sure the crystarium has some kind of free public transportation system which WOULD include aetherytes so how does it work. or maybe the crystal tower actually powers a good number of novrandt aetherytes? it DOES seem very likely or, at the very least, physically possible (#1 solar panel of all times). but how would have they done it before it was summoned...... maybe it just helped? there WAS less aether in the First so the crystal tower could act as a big aetheric booster helping the whole network to stay afloat (pun intended) (sorry) and powering it/making teleportation safer. also rude to have your crush-bestie-guiding-star pay for aetheryte transportation if there was another option, g'raha!!!

[oikoshelpinghand]

These DIY cards are more than just crafts; they're a beautiful testament to the bond between sponsors, beneficiaries, and the spirit of the season.

Let's continue to inspire and uplift each other as we countdown to the most wonderful time of the year!

[kingmaker-thac0hno]

An Expected Journey: Part 2

The journal of Evrin Brazenbrook

18 Pharast, 4710

This morning was unusual, as when we awoke, Adnachiel and his two helpers, Veshka and Eshelu, were gone. I can only assume that their absence was a consequence of a discussion he and I had in which I insisted that our main responsibility was to the charter. He believed that we should be seeking out the Stag Lord at all costs, but I could not understand how he could not see our primary objective as being exploration. After his absence, I supposed that this expedition might have to be put on hold, if not abandoned completely. Returning to Restov after a mere eighteen days would have been an embarrassment. “For the glory of Restov” indeed. But fortunately, something later in the day changed that course.

[Sketch by Karis Shadowcil]

Oleg’s business partner, a merchant named Vekkel, arrived with a rather remarkable half-elf and his pet griffin in tow. I say “pet,” but it is hard to tell what exactly their relationship entails. I have certainly never seen a creature like it, though remember hearing stories of such things as a child. Either way, it was clear from one look at the half-elf that he was of noble blood. Nobles always have a look about them, and carry themselves in a certain way. But he spoke with a strange blend of grace, flattery, and bombast. Normally I care very little for such people, as they are often almost as bad as performing artists—a silver tongue usually signals insincerity, or so I have learned. But Sarynnvhal Medvyed, for that is his name, seemed quite different. He immediately won us over with his manners and his adventurous spirit, and despite myself, I found my heart stirring at some of the stories he told of being in the wilds. He and I had a long conversation in particular, in which I expressed my concerns about not fulfilling the duties of the charter and perhaps needing to abandoned the expedition…but he gently rebuffed me on this, reminding me that we are not under anyone’s direct purview out here in the Greenbelt. And I must admit that his words relieved some of a burden that has been weighing me down for many weeks. This journal is not the place to go into it, and there are more pressing concerns, but I must admit that my perspective has been changed somewhat, thanks to Saryn’s words. The charter is still foremost in my mind, but I must recognize that the spirit of the charter is more one of exploration and discovery than rigid and meticulous surveying. And with the strong bandit presence in the region, we will surely need to focus much of our efforts in that area. Perhaps if our paths cross with Adnachiel again, I will listen more closely to his perspective.

19 Pharast, 4710

A troubling day, as our party—now including Saryn—chose to continue our survey, this time to the West of Oleg’s. We had Vekkel make haste to Restov to hire three mercenaries to help protect the trading post, as the rest of us explored. Near the edge of the forest we saw several sets of hoofprints, along with what seemed to be Adnachiel’s strange mechanical bird, smashed to many pieces. This did not bode well, and we decided to pursue what seemed to be nine riders into the forest itself. The tracks were around a day old, which seemed to confirm that Adnachiel and his two helpers were captured. As I write, we have camped out in the forest without incident. We will try to follow as best we can. Any pretense at surveying is now gone until we can find out what happened to our former party member.

20 Pharast, 4710

The pursuit continued today, though despite trekking deep into the forest—which Saryn navigated skillfully—we could not catch the presumed bandits. We know that we are still on their trail, however, and we assume that we will catch them tomorrow. Otherwise, I have had a few moments to look around at the splendor of the forest, and must admit that it reminds me of my home. It is hard to avoid getting sentimental in a place like this.

P.S. For all of Saryn’s waking eloquence, he certainly does snore rather loudly. I have extended my watch by half an hour, as I fear I would not be able to fall asleep anyhow.

21 Pharast, 4710

Much has happened today, but I must lead with the unfortunate acknowledgement that Adnachiel has died at the hands of bandits. We had feared that this may be the case, but it was confirmed today. The one mild hope we have is that Eshelu and Veshka are not dead…but more on that later.

We finally caught up to the bandits who we assumed had taken Adnachiel and his helpers, and it turned out that they had a minor encampment on Thorn River, and fortunately both Karis and Saryn were able to discover it without they themselves being seen. We all agreed that we should ambush the bandits as best we could, even though they outnumbered us two-to-one. Only one of them looked as though he might be a seasoned fighter, and since he was clearly the leader, we made a point of targeting him first. Saryn wisely suggested we use a flanking approach, and it wound up working quite well. Armauk and Karis did some fine work at targeting the leader, and while some bandits fled in fear, we dispatched the others with ease, saving one for questioning first. We did not get a lot of useful information out of this bandit, though he confirmed that they had killed Adnachiel and pointed where his body was dumped. We later attended to his burial, with Armauk providing some surprisingly brief Erastilian funeral rites and me saying a few words concerning his demise. The bandit told us that Eshelu and Veshka were being taken to the Stag Lord’s encampment, but we neglected to ask when they left. Nonetheless, after dispatching the bandit, we pursued as best we could, following the tracks. It is our hope that we will catch up with them tomorrow. One thing of note is that the bandit leader, whose name was something like Oikos, was wearing a breastplate emblazoned with a symbol of Erastil. Naturally Armauk took this for his own, and I must admit that it becomes our kindly half-orc quite nicely.

22-23 Pharast, 4710

I had no time to write yesterday, as we spent the day in a furious chase. We pursued throughout the day, and nearly stopped when Karis’s raven noticed plumes of dust in the distance—close enough to be reachable if we persisted into the night. We did so, risking exhaustion in the hopes of overtaking the bandits and rescuing Eshelu and Veshka, if it were not already too late. Since it was so early in the morning, we were able to catch the bandits at rest, with only one standing watch. Karis adopted a disguise of Oikos to gain the watchman’s trust, and once he was drawn away, Saryn slit the throats of two bandits as they slept. We then did away with the watchman, and were relieved to discover both women were alive and seemed to be unharmed. They were most grateful for their liberation, though understandably in shock. Earlier in the day Saryn on his griffin, and Karis through his raven noticed what looked to be a bridge or some other structure off to the south, but we decided that we should get the women to relative safety instead, and chose to make use of the bandit’s small camp to rest, then return to Oleg’s. When we awoke this morning, we were able to recollect the horses we had freed from the Thorn River camp, along with their belongings, and we essentially backtracked through known territory meeting with no difficulties along the way.

24-25 Pharast, 4710

Yesterday’s journey was largely uneventful. Armauk had a rather large boil on his neck which needed to be lanced, and Karis spent far too much time trying to strum his infernal lute while riding than I would have liked, but what matters most is that we made it back to Oleg’s without incident. Fortunately, no harm had befallen the trading post, and we expect that in a few days, we will see the return of Vekkel with some mercenaries in tow. As of now, my plan is to continue to train Oleg, Svetlana, and the two liberated ladies in the art of defense. Soon, however, we will set out once more to explore further south. I daresay I am beginning to actually look forward to the adventures to come.