#Pulley Ridge

[gothic-lottie]

Chapter 27 of Making Some Sense of This, Going Home, is up now!

@espressoristretto-patronum

The Slytherin trio move home for the summer, I love my silly children

Isobel dropped her trunk beside me. “Mind helping me get this up to the loft?”

“Yeah. How are we doing this?”

“I climb up, you pass it up to me.”

“Can’t you just levitate it?”

…

“I wish I had thought of that before I got the mattress up there.”

“How?”

"I built a pulley system on the rafters.”

“Huh… clever, but definitely unnecessary. How do you get up there anyway?”

“Oh, it’s easy.” Isobel hitched up one side of her skirt and climbed the wall covered in swirls, sitting on the edge at the top. “See? Much easier than ruin walls.”

“Oh, that’s what the ridges are for. Anyway,” I levitated her trunk up to her “what else do we need to do to finish moving in?”

“I set up most of my sewing things already. Whatever you guys need to unpack I can help find places for. We mainly need to unpack then soundproof and pick up some groceries.”

“Sounds like a plan.” When I looked back up, Isobel was on her feet, looking back and forth between me and the floor. I could practically see the bad ideas brewing in her head. “Iz, what are you-”

She grinned “Seb, catch!” My heart dropped and I felt myself lunging forward as she jumped, laughing as I caught her. 

“Are you insane?!”

“Just a little. Mostly impulsive.”

I set her down and flicked her forehead “I hate you.”

Isobel only laughed more in response.

Chapter 25 art

Master List

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

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[ Release dates may have changed. ]

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❤️ Wednesday Nights - by Donna Jay 🧡 The Woods All Black - Lee Mandelo 💛 Song of the Huntress - Lucy Holland 💚 Rainbow Black - Maggie Thrash 💙 Spirits & Sunflowers - A.D. Armistead & Austin Daniel 💜 Floating Hotel - Grace Curtis ❤️ Far From Camelot - Rylee Hale 🧡 This Way to Change - Jezz Chung 💛 Mexican Bird - Luis Lopez-Maldonado 💙 Android Affection: Unveiling - Beau Van Dalen 💜 Welcome to the Damned - Astraea Long 🌈 She Came for Blood - Darva Green

❤️ Cover Story - Rachel Lacey 🧡 The Poisons We Drink - Bethany Baptiste 💛 The Perfect Guy Doesn't Exist - Sophie Gonzales 💚 In Walked Trouble - Dana Hawkins 💙 Never Leave, Never Lie - Thea Verdone 💜 Guardian: Zhen Hun - Priest ❤️ All the World Beside - Garrard Conley 🧡 Rainbows, Unicorns, and Triangles - Jessica Kingsley Publishers 💛 The Feast Makers - H.A. Clarke 💙 Synthetic Sea - Franklyn S. Newton 💜 All the Painted Stars - Emma Denny 🌈 A Hard Sell - Jennifer Moffatt

[tavyliasin]

BG3 FicFeb NSFW - Day 9

Gods help me this was probably the filthiest sex I have written so far. Probably. I have no memory left now I'm done with it.

YURGIR FANS PLEASE COME AND TAKE HIM AWAY AGAIN I CANNOT WRITE HIM AGAIN (Edit - Lia is writing Yurgir again and no longer wants help)

Lia's destroyed soul aside, I hope you enjoy this one loves~

Raphael has lost a wager to Haarlep and now waits in the boudoir, where the incubus is leading an Orthon with the promise of a shortened sentence if he fills his end of the bargain...

CWs and tags for: Size kink, tail pulling, biting, blood, incubus aphrodisiac, bondage, exhibitionism, rough sex, degradation kink (if I am missing any please let me know to add them!)

SMUT BELOW THE CUT ----- -----

Day 9 - Exhibitionism

“An interesting proposal, creature.” Yurgir glared down at the incubus, refusing to dignify them even with a nickname. “And he has agreed to this? How?” 

“He will tell you that he lost a bet,” Haarlep smirked, “however, you should not believe for a single second that he had any intention of winning.”

“The bastard is aware of your choice in coming to me?” The orthon tilted his head, checking every word of the verbal contract as it was laid out before him, lest one small mistake cost him another century of service.  “He will not use it against me?” 

“I think perhaps he hoped it would be his favourite Little Mouse who was summoned, but he left the choice to me.” The incubus ran a finger along Yurgir’s expansive chest, the sharp edge of their claw threatening to pierce even his thick skin. “Are you not interested? This little bargain could shorten your sentence by half, and I will not leave you disappointed by your part in it either.” 

“Very well. If you think yourself foolish enough to endure the night, creature, then have it your way.” 

—

Raphael made for a truly captive audience in the boudoir. He was bound to the ceiling, suspended from a series of ropes and pulleys, wings splayed wide with his arms twisted behind his back. The gag carried his own scent, the shame of his own undergarments shoved unceremoniously into his mouth to muffle his complaints. 

Leaving, of course, would be a simple matter. The signal to the cursed Harlot would be easily given, and never ignored. Rules and contracts - hell has its laws and they will be upheld. He shivered as the orthon was led into the room by the incubus, both barely dressed in scraps of leather as neither seemed fond of being properly dressed. Not that he had room to criticise, clothed only in rope, skin prickling with heat and a line of sweat running along the ridges of his waist. 

“He makes quite the chandelier.” Yurgir nodded towards him as the pair came closer to the bed.

“That he does, a beautiful display just for us. Right where he can watch everything you do to the perfect copy of his own body, where he can see everything he will feel.” Haarlep smirked, kneeling on the bed and beckoning the larger man closer. “Come, have a taste. It has been some time, has it not? Tainted meat is not the same as the source~”

“You even carry his stench.” Yurgir frowned, sniffing a little deeper as he leaned over the bed, hands on the sheets either side of the incubus’s hips, slowly crawling over them like a predator. “But there is another that is yours alone.” 

“Very perceptive~ You hear that, Archduke? I even smell better than you.” Raphael could only groan his displeasure through the silk filling his mouth, the scent inescapable in an irony that Haarlep no doubt intended.

“Such interesting songs he sings when his silver tongue is stilled.” The orthon growled, one large hand shoving Haarlep roughly back into the pillows. “I will take none of your poison, creature, but you must be prepared to receive me. Break too soon and I will leave dissatisfied.”

“Go ahead~” Haarlep purred, parting their legs and dismissing their harness with a flicker of infernal fire. “Make sure he can see everything.”

Raphael’s brow knitted into a frown as Haarlep held his gaze, challenging him to keep his eyes wide open as the orthon sank down to their hips, hoisting their legs easily in one hand. 

—

Yurgir found the fiend to be quite pliable. Their tail even curled beneath him, teasing at his loincloth while he lowered his lips to the base of their tail. Their scent was strong here, enticing, drawing him in. But the look on their face was irritating him, the lowly beast had power of the one that held his own reins, and that in itself was an insult. He had no intention of being gentle nor giving them more pleasure than came as a side effect to seeking his own.

The orthon sank his teeth into the soft flesh at the base of the despicable creature’s tail, seasoning his tongue with the taste of hot blood that oozed to the surface. “You know, even that carries a hint of my poison~” their voice teased, only the hint of pain crossing their features as he sucked harshly at the wound to draw more out.

“Then I will take everything I desire. You should have warned me.” The lust began to burn hot through his veins, blood rushing low where the incubus was already pulling aside his loincloth with the tip of their tail.

“Warn you?” They crooned, voice dripping with amusement and desire. “Now where would be the fun in that?” 

—

Haarlep kept their eyes fixed on Raphael, licking their lips as they subtly cast sending. “You feel that, Archduke? How even the tip of his tongue is so strong without even going inside yet?” They briefly tapped the orthon on his stomach with their tail. “Give him a better view.” 

Yurgir had been holding both their ankles together and aloft with one hand, but he accepted the suggestion, albeit in his own way. 

Haarlep yelped slightly as the orthon had little care for delicacy, gripping their legs one in each hand and wedging their thighs in the curve of the tusk-like horns on the side of his head. The jagged edges bit into their skin, the pain quickly melding into a deep pleasure as his tongue thrust inside, a feral hunger threatening to devour the incubus whole if they let him. 

The orthon growled, the vibration passing through his throat into his tongue which mercilessly fucked into Haarlep, drawing a moan from their audience above. 

—

Raphael could see everything.

What’s more, he could feel every pleasurable part of it, too. He moaned even as the damned Harlot spoke into his mind with another sending, even their thoughts as breathless as he felt. “Ah- You feel that, Archduke? Mmf- oh he is hungry, and- …oh yes, he knows exactly where to- Hold yourself back. I will give pemissi-mmmh…” 

Raphael could respond if he wanted to, the sending allowed it, but there was nothing he had to say to the bitch in heat rolling around on the bed beneath him, gripping the sheets, as he was left to desperately hold himself back with his tail to prevent himself from coating the pair beneath him in the lust that was already seeping from his tip. The cambion gritted his teeth around the gag. He wound his tail tightly around his base, using the tip as a temporary cork to further keep his climax from peaking too soon. 

It was no easy feat, Yurgir was showing no mercy. One long and thick finger began to slide in alongside his tongue. His other hand raked along the incubus’s chest, drawing thick lines of blood and swollen skin, a long and pleased moan leaving the Harlot’s lips. 

Of course they would enjoy this, they were forever moaning about combining pleasure and pain as one singular experience of bliss, and for a moment he was almost jealous that only the pleasure transferred to his bound body without the pain. The domain of the incubus was only that of lust, after all…

The jealousy soon faded when the orthon added a second finger, beginning to roughly scissor Haarlep in rough preparation, clearly beginning to lose any hint of patience as the writhed and moaned beneath him.

“Next time you should take him yourself, Archdu-! Ahhh- Should I ask him for more? He is…HUGE…” 

—

Haarlep forced their eyes to stay open even as lust wanted to press them closed, to indulge only in the sensation, but they needed to see Raphael’s frown, watching a single drip fall onto the orthon’s head.

They considered telling him, but given his disdain for their safety they chose not to risk true anger. Their tail coaxed him on, feeling every hardened ridge pulsing with the aphrodisiac he had tasted in their blood. “Come now, I am more than ready for one such as you, Yurgir.” 

“I will never know if you are brave or foolish, creature,” he shoved their legs roughly free from where they had been on his horns and let them drop to the bed. “I tire of your face, it is not his. You wear a mask that looks like him, smells like him, but you are not Raphael. Worry not, creature, he will see every way I ruin you.” 

“Go ahead~ If you make the pathetic Master of the House above you climax more than twice, I might even let you fuck him yourself next time. You want to know how he tastes compared to me, don’t you~” They grinned, teeth bared in challenge, seeing how he salivated more at the thought. “I thought as much. Go on, earn it.” 

—

Yurgir snarled as he flipped them over, shoving them to their knees. He pulled their tail up and over their back, finally looking over his shoulder to where the cambion was held, eyes watering with need. “Is your hole just like this, devil?” He sucked the taste from his fingers, pressing them inside once more, teasing them open and ensuring Raphael watched. 

It pleased him to see how the fiend strained against his bindings.

“You truly do feel it, don’t you…” He growled with a grin, stooping down for another taste, changing the angle, this time pressing harder at just the point that brought a chorus of near identical moans from two throats. He pulled back and looked up again, thrusting his fingers more slowly as he teased both bodies with the sensation. “Go on, rain your filth down upon me. Use your own tail to fill your rancid hole if you wish, it is a pitiful comparison but it will barely take that much to bring you to your end now, will it, devil?” 

He returned one last time to devour the incubus, increasing the pace of his fingers and matching it with his tongue, feeling their muscles begin to twitch around him, their body quivering as he kept them held with a savage grip on their tail. 

It took less than a minute to feel the hot splashes upon his shoulders, similar coating the sheets beneath the incubus as twin moans reached his ears. He drew it out longer, a challenge to the writhing creature to try and withstand the intensity of the onslaught to their insides, thrusting past the point of overstimulation as their wings shivered in delight.

The thought of pleasuring them was almost sickening, but knowing that the bastard who held his contract was whimpering above him like a pathetic mortal…that was deeply arousing. 

Yurgir kept hold of Haarlep’s tail, finally withdrawing his fingers and reaching underneath to feel where they twitched and dripped onto the sheets. “I had thought you to have more stamina, creature.” 

“It will take more than that to satisfy me~ Are you going to make use of that weapon between your legs, or simply talk me to sleep?” They taunted, wiggling their hips where they still made a scandalous display, gaping, wet with his saliva, twitching and waiting.

He would not keep them waiting any longer. 

—

Haarlep wondered for a moment if they had gone too far in their teasing, the growl from behind them sparking a primal fear they had not felt in centuries. They felt him rise onto his knees, holding their legs close together between impossibly thick thighs. In some ways they were glad that Raphael’s cambion body, such as the copy of it they wore at least, was only a couple of heads shorter than the Orthon, but the rest of their body did not come close to matching his size. 

His hand covered most of their abdomen as he gripped their waist with savage strength, lifting them higher and guiding them back towards the twitching tip they had grasped with their tail earlier. 

Another sending to taunt their master, while the orthon began to slowly slide inside to the first ridge.

“Your own tail, Archduke, match his pace. This once, do as you want, cover him, remind him that his place is still beneath you.” 

The bumps and spikes covering Yurgir might easily tear open a mortal, or even a fiend who was not prepared. Even the incubus felt their mind haze at the edges with the harsh friction as each new ridge pressed inside until large hips were flush with his, the hand on their stomach pressing harder against them with a pleased growl.

—

Raphael pulled hopelessly at the bindings. He felt every inch of friction just as he could see it below him. He bit hard on the filthy cloth in his mouth, groaning when the orthon arched his back to look up at him. 

“Jealousy, demon, is not a colour I expected to see in your eyes. What is it you want to say, I wonder?” Yurgir laughed, a wicked look on his face. “I prefer you like this, tongue stilled by your own filth, your lies kept silent for a change.” 

The cambion frowned. Any other time he might have wished to add another millennium to the contract, to use every loophole to make it feel three times as long, but the feeling of being utterly full without a hint of movement was driving him to tears. 

“You want me to fuck your pet incubus? Nod your head, demon, tell me you want to feel how completely I can bring the pitiful creature to ruin alongside you.” Yurgir’s stare was a challenge, still refusing to move a muscle without a reply.

Raphael nodded, a slight whimper of desperation slipping past the gag. 

“Interesting. You can follow orders.” The orthon grinned, turning his attention back to the incubus below. “Prepare yourself, creature, your vile poison has tainted my veins too deeply with your vile lust.” 

Raphael’s eyes were transfixed as Yurgir began to thrust mercilessly, pulling all of the way back and slamming forwards with a force that could easily snap bone. But despite the Orthon’s assessment, Haarlep was not fragile. He had seen them endure, enjoy, far rougher partners. Some larger too, depending on the glamour they wore. 

Still, they whined and keened into silken pillows, taloned fingers gripping the sheets and tearing holes in the fabric. His vision blurred as his eyes stung with hot tears from the overwhelming sensation, trying to follow the instruction he was given but finding his own tail a poor comparison to the sight below.

—

The room was filled only with the sound of the moans of an incubus getting exactly what they wanted, the lust-drenched grunts of the orthon taking everything he felt he deserved, and the pitiful keening of the cambion who could feel it all and yet nothing at all. 

Another climax overwhelmed Raphael, his body jerking hard against the ropes as his release fell hot onto Yurgir’s back, dripping down across his huge form that continued to move at a merciless pace. 

The orthon had let go of the incubus’s tail which now hung loose and quivering down their own back. Instead, he had reached below to take a grip of their still dripping length, punishing them with their own overstimulated pleasure as he used their own release to let his fingers slide more easily. 

—

By the time Yurgir felt his own release build to the pinnacle he had been desperate for, his back was a dripping mess, the cambion above him barely whimpering now in complete ruin, the incubus still somehow moaning and shaking with desire.

His final thrusts pulsed hot, filling the creature just as they deserved, their body now a mere hole for him to use for the last shuddering moments of bliss as finally the lust burning through his veins was sated. 

He was breathing heavily, his own body feeling close to spent, as he pulled free and unceremoniously flipped the incubus onto their back. To his utter disgust, they were grinning, laughing-

“You find this amusing?” He growled, trying to find the edge of threat in his own voice but losing it to satiated exhaustion as he sat back on the bed, feeling the cold mess on his back dribbling down onto the sheets.

“No, no-” Haarlep tried hard to regain their composure. “I am not mocking you, orthon, you were quite the delicious treat~”

“Then why must you cackle like a drunken imp, vile creature?” 

“Because he thought I wouldn’t be able to take it. I’d offer a second round, but I’m afraid I should take care of the Archduke now, or he won’t be in any state to pay the fee for the bet he just lost.” Haarlep smirked. 

“A second gamble. Of course you wouldn’t tell the truth.” 

“Are you dissatisfied?” 

“...Call upon me if you wish to make another bet, creature. Next time I will add my own wager.”

[kaywavy]

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[ffccrxxxsss]

Candace Marie Hughes fcdx highway dx interstate paid only open close for Candace Marie Hughes only signs on side is dxfc glow paid fc only loked tamarind Ln falcon ridge cove Dillard rangeline new allen rd. Paid Loked on map fc water caves only fc : deliveries paid loked on laid lay ley paid loked on paid loked loked on laid in lay in ley in paid loked on paid paid loked 4444333 deliver paid loked chains arms and legs paid Candace Marie Hughes paid loked : pulleys doors paid gears gears gears paid loked on paid gears pulleys doors: loked on paid on must return to Candace Marie Hughes only and loked paid Coleman Rd. Stage Rd. Raleigh Lagrange Rd. Both Mullins station Rd. Benches paid appling rd. Grapetree trail whitten Rd. Macon paid loked lay ley laid paid loked on. Loked.

[pranaliahuja12]

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[manemelody]

even though i can't assign direct ancestors to them i do think the "noble lie" of zephyr heights royalty being the only ones who can fly might give us a hint to what sort of ponies originally laid claim to the zephyr heights throne.

i am assuming dreeze's map theory that ZH was built near rambling rock ridge or the foal mountains and founded by pegasi after magic being sealed led to cloudsdale collapsing. the isolationist pegasi group saw the predominantly-unicorn (or for almost all the alicorns who used to be unicorns except for cadance who was a pegasus pre-alicorning) royalty in canterlot to be invalid and would want a pegasus to lead them. and if they are focusing on pegasus identity then why not focus on flight and trying to recreate a city in the clouds?

the problem is of course is that nobody can fly now that the magic has been sealed. but perhaps a particularly charismatic stuntpony or even a jingoistic wonderbolt could harness their theatrical skills to give the impression that they were able to hold onto their flight. plus, they would already have a troupe or teammates - the very first royal court in on the "noble lie" right there!

ZH technology would be developed from then on for three main reasons - to protect ZH from "intruders" or "invaders", attempts to recreate flight/cloudsdale without magic, and one known to only the royal court, advisors, and the technicians (perhaps descendants of the original troupe, or talented civillian stagehands "poached" from their jobs to work for the crown) to improve the flight illusion. the pulleys, trick wires, and fans had definitely been around in harmony-era equestria, but the lighting console seen during the movie's "glowing up" number would be cutting edge ZH to hide the hidden wires and machinations going on behind pipp "flying"!

societally the investment create a feedback cycle of the crown "patronising" the performing arts and making new technological innovations to fake flight -> incentivising pegasi to go into and continue developing the same technology due to the crown support -> more innovations and technicians for the crown to make use of and sponsor -> the crown "patronising" the performing arts -> repeat

in any case yes, this does mean pipp being a theatre kid runs in the family.

i usually dislike trying to assign direct ancestors to the g5 ponies simply because i think it was a long time ago and i like focusing on the ponies now but my main three ancestor headcanons have to be jazz hooves being a descendant of the spa ponies, zoom zephyrwing being a cozy glow descendant (somehow since she is. a statue) because they're both pegasi with rooks as their cutie marks, and silverstream being a founder of the sparkling seas culture because she was a successor to laughter and the sparkling seaponies value laughter - although this one will probably be expanded on as set your sail/TYT eps about seaponies roll out

[an-apocalypse-of-magpies]

Pitolu, Toa of Force

Some of the Toa of Pazu Nui find themselves lacking in purpose, and this gives them anxiety. Pitolu found himself lacking in purpose, and it gave him freedom. With no Ve-Matoran to look after, no home to protect, and to legacy to live up to, Pitolu life is his own. Some of the other Toa may call this selfish, but Pitolu is not lacking in compassion - he merely lives the the beat of his own drum. As such, he doesn’t really believe in Destiny, or rather, he doesn’t believe in fruitlessly striving for an unknown fate, but instead that Destiny will come for you bade or otherwise, and it is far better to be flexible and adaptable enough to accept it, even if you don’t like what it turns out to be. He rips around Pazu Nui on his Chaos Screw according to his own whims, and the mode of transport can become a formidable weapon with the aid of his own Force powers and his Kanohi Hup, the Mask of Rebounding, which allows him to recall the Chaos Screw from any distance at considerable speed and power.

Remember how Bionicle’s first advertising bits made heavy use of extreme sports? You know, surfing, bouldering, football, that sort of thing? Pitolu’s a little bit of a return to that. He was originally was meant to have a different weapon - a pair of shields covered in detonating charges - but I saw someone else make a MOC with that weapon, so I decided to go a little more inventive. The spinning top idea came to me inspired by the Spinner moveset in Hyrule Warriors, and I thought it’d be cool. The pulley wheel and top plate allow a string to be wound around it as a wind-up cord, and the pin on the top is without friction ridges, allowing it to spin when attached to one of his feet. I decided to try and use more sand green pieces this time compared to my previous Toa of Force Vehunga, and I like how it came out. I figure his personality is very chill and surfer-dude.

Kanohi Hup design by Rothanak

[jellyfishinajamjar]

Using my limited knowledge of anatomy to come up with places on the Boiling Isles

Tail Reef. The Titan’s tail is underwater, but the first few vertebrae are only slightly submerged, and so form the base of a coral reef

Ilium, named for the Illiac Crest which forms a mountain ridge at the Titan’s hips. Home to the Hip Grand Prix, where racers fly between and under the hips and back

Aortown, a mining town at the Navel, where the descending aorta splits into the common iliac arteries. In the past it was a very rich mining site for Titans Blood, and now is a major overland shipping town, due to the large and sprawling tunnel network cut through the veins

Big Toe Island, on the Titan’s left foot, pokes above the water line. Largely isolated from the rest of the mainland

Leg Pit-stop, a hanging city which dangles in the empty space between the upper and lower parts of the leg that makes up the Knee. Serves as a trade post and dry dock for merchant vessels going from the left leg to the right arm. Docked vessels are literally hoisted out of the sea by pulley so they can be repaired

Radial Valley, formed by the dip between the radius and ulna on the left arm. A largely untamed wilderness separating New Plam Stings from the body, except by sea. With the left arm now raised, traversing the 80 degree monster packed slope is the only way to reach cities distal to the forearm

The Peak, a formerly submerged pointer finger on the left arm that now represents the highest point on the Boiling Isles. Due to the altitude, it is effectively unreachable, as anyone trying would have to climb from New Plam Stings up the finger, and due to its submersion in the Boiling Sea it has no native plants or animals, and due to elevation the air is so thin that you have to bring your own oxygen. Expeditions to reach The Peak have so far met with failure, thought that hasn’t stopped people from trying

[artblogart]

Saving money at home means making money

For some people it's a sport, but for others it's a necessity: cutting back. Not only here are the best saving tips. There are also many tips on Nibud.nl, Eendutjeopzijnkant.nl and Savingstest.nl. Saving 7,000 euros per year is possible if you follow all the tips correctly.

No curtains for the radiator

Make sure there is no large furniture in front of the radiator. And close the curtains at night. But come up with a creative solution for the curtains that hang in front of the radiator, because they block the heat transport to the room. Close all connecting doors.

Saving money at home means making money

Make it a habit to always close all doors behind you. Otherwise the air will circulate: drafts, moisture and wind will lower the temperature. Therefore, make sure that your letterbox is well draught-free, by building a box for it, or otherwise mounting a special letterbox or anti-draft strip. These tips alone save 30% on your heating costs.

Warm air rises

If you close another door to the top or, even better, close a hatch to the attic, you save a lot, because warm air rises. So the heat immediately hangs through the stairwell against the ridge of the attic and mixes with the cold outside air on the other side of the roof tiles. You will not enjoy that in the living room. That is why insulating your roof is so effective. Your heat can't go any higher. If it is feasible to place a hatch with a counterweight and a pulley in the stairwell or a simple door at the bottom or top of the stairs, then that is a real moneymaker.

Easily create compartments of still air under your floor

Underfloor heating is also important, but for a different reason. That's what the temperature feels like: no matter how warm you dress, if you have cold feet you will still feel uncomfortable. So ensure that the floor is insulated by stapling some plastic to the floor (the ceiling of the basement) in the basement. And then place some stationary air compartments in special heat-reflecting foil and you no longer have cold feet. You can buy the stuff ready-made, but you can also make it yourself. And once you have warm feet, the rest often follows. There is then less need to stoke higher.

Ventilating is actually cheaper

Smart ventilation at times when you don't need the heat. Just five minutes before you leave for work, study or bakery in the morning. Your house is still cold at night, so you don't lose too much heat there. Dry air heats up faster than moist air, so keep track. By default, set the thermostat one degree lower. And you immediately save 6 percent on your energy costs. A return of 6 percent on your investments on the stock market on an annual basis is not wrong at all. And not at home either. Efficiently lowering your thermostat an hour before bedtime to 5 to 9 degrees lower, it quickly saves 20 percent on your stick costs. If your house is already very well insulated, you can lower it by two degrees.

Take a minute shorter shower

A minute shorter shower saves double. On the water and the energy to heat the water. It saves a hundred euros a year. For the handy smart guys among us: you can come up with a system that stores hot shower water in a copper spiral, which then releases the heat to a radiator. If you have it done, you will pay much more on balance than the proceeds, but it is called WTW. So Google WTW for inspiration.

Find the heat leaks in your home with a heat leak scanner

There are heat-sensitive scanners for sale (including from the Home Owners Association) with which you can detect heat leaks in your home. Who knows, there is already a handy app for this. You will see the red spots light up. Those are the places where the heat leaks out the most. Such as windows, cracks, draft spots, doors, mailboxes, dormer windows, keyholes, walls, pipes, stove connections and roofs. Packing the lead Of course, hot water and central heating pipes also give off heat in your home. And that's a nice bonus. But not if it's under a floor or in a closet or in an unused basement or hallway. Wrap those pipes and in this way you push the heat to the places where you do like it: the living room. Placing reflective radiator foil behind your radiator reflects the heat where you want it. Instead of heating the wall, the heat now goes to you.

Finally

Earn and save with some simple tips that you can teach yourself. You don't notice it yourself after a while, because you are so used to it. Teach it to your housemates as well, which will immediately give you a double return. This way you can save a great holiday in no time.

Er zijn warmtegevoelige scanners te koop (onder andere bij Vereniging eigen huis) waarmee je in je huis de warmtelekken op kunt sporen. Wie weet is er ook al een handige app hiervoor. Je ziet de rode plekken oplichten. Dat zijn de plekken waar de warmte het meest weglekt. Zoals ramen, kieren, tochtplekken, deuren, brievenbussen, dakkapellen, sleutelgaten, muren, leidingen, kachelaansluitingen en daken.

De leiding inpakken

Warm water en cv leidingen geven uiteraard ook warmte af in je huis. En dat is mooi meegenomen. Maar niet als het onder een vloer of in een kast of in een ongebruikte kelder of gang is. Inpakken die leidingen en zo stuw je de warmte naar de plekken waar je het wel prettig vindt: den huiskamer. Reflecterend radiatorfolie achter je radiator plaatsen kaatst de warmte waar je die wilt. In plaats van de muur verwarmen, gaat de hitte nu naar jou.

Tot slot

Verdien en bespaar door wat eenvoudige tips die je jezelf zo kan aanleren. Je merkt er zelf na verloop van tijd niks van, want je bent er zo aan gewend. Leer het je huisgenoten ook aan, dat geeft dan meteen dubbel rendement. Zo bespaar je in no time een vette vakantie bij elkaar.

[crybabytoy59]

Resignation of fate .

Pt2.

I was taken back by Mistress Mummy asking me to Open Wide that I was going to be gagged? As I already was gagged with her soiled pants...?

As I looked at Nanny Bee she was holding a small bowl with something pink in it?

But I could not see what it was due to my new pink clouded lenses !

Mistress Mummy lifted a bit from the bowl pushing two fingers from her right hand she pushed in what felt like warm wax ? With her other free hand, pushing very firmly more & more into the space making my cheek bulge outward...the other side got the same treatment, then she lifted more pushing it between my teeth teasing it just over my teeth on the inside causing a ridge around them,this she did to the other side Also!

Nanny Bee handed her a long steel spike with a hollow end that was turned over to make a steel ring ? This she pushed Deeply into the wax TIL only the steel ring was projecting from the pink wax just at the corner of my mouth..

Next she pushed in a second pin to my left cheek wax....It seemed to be heating up ?...

As Mistress Mummy stood smiling at me she rubbed my cheek....

“Clever girlie Crybaby that’s good your almost there....Well done Baby Girlie !!....Say Ga’Ga for us Crybaby (Mistress Mummy was pulling out her soiled pants....

They both giggled....”Loudly as you can Baby Ga’Ga !!”.... Mistress Mummy patted my baby Dolly face, the wax had gone solid in my mouth, wedging it Open perfectly !! ..“Good baby nice quiet Crybaby that’s lovely ! let’s continue our preparations over at your bench”

All that had assed from my new oral tunnel was a Deep low sounding Ga’Ga....like some sort of creature in distress....

As I was turned waddling at the size of the Bulk between my legs ! Through the pink haze I could see a black bondage H-frame at the ready, all manner of straps hanging from it ! Also I could see a table with lots of items I just couldn’t make out !

But from my previous visits to Jessica I knew theses to be punishment items as she would always lay them out for me to see telling me how many I would receive from what items, she had brought to use on me that day !...This would often scare Me given I knew Jessica loved to truly use sadistic punishment as a Training method !

As they bent me over working around me I could smell them both pant less! The sex smell in the air unmissable....I was in for a long session as when Mistress Jess had gotten in this aroused a state once before ? That was what had led to my confessions during my submission outburst while I sobbed blurting out my inner feelings openly without a moment of hesitation.....

Mistress Mummy was tingling All over yes indeed she was going to take Crybaby back to that place at her WKD hand...but this evening she would do it with her best friend Bee.

Jessica & Bee had been friends since university a true friendship that had grown over the years....But only recently had Jessica told her of the bdsm lifestyle she led...A female led relationship with men for her financial gain...

Bee was quite taken back but not surprised given her friends Dominant personally.....So many nights chatting & Bee watching Jessica at work (Jess would blindfold her slaves & let Bee sit quietly to watch as she did her “Thing to the Slave”.....

When Jessica had mentioned she was going to take on something very special in her life Jessica was stunned by how very keen Bee was to have a part in the use of this submissive man...to remodel him completely...not a few kinky hours then return to the big world....No Jessica wanted to actually have an Adult baby, but also asexual pain Toy for her gratification....Bee had six climaxes at home that evening after Jessica asking for her help with “Crybaby”

Sweat poured from her every pour her legs shaking as she walked to the shower with her juices running down her thighs !

The hot shower was such a relief...she put her head on the glass smiled warmly, then spoke to her self gently...

“Yes Crybaby am going to help you be a Very Special Girlie....Fuck yes you little Pain Toy ...Jessica & I Are going to break you to a three year old ...As you sissy will not have a say in the matter !!l

Dressing for the drive to Jessica’s house Bee couldn’t stop smiling.....

As they bound me tightly to the frame on all fours they pulled my legs far apart behind me, I then heard clicking as my ankles were pulled hard by a pulley system both wider & more taught, my arms were pit to the belt over the small of my back into ball mittens then elbow cuffs added to pull my arms level at my sides"..

Mistress Mummy was unzipping my dress at the back followed by my petticoat, I could now feel the cool air on my back as I did Mistress Mummy started massaging my shoulders it was Devine her soft hands & softer voice enveloped me..

“Clever girlie Crybaby that’s a good Baby Relax....Now lift your headie for us ...that’s it but further back Cutie....Clever girlie just a bit further....Good Baby Hold still !!”

Nanny Bee was fitting some kind of posture collar on me that was holding my head Fully back in this position...I started whimsical pleading noises from my mouth but only gargling muffled sounds came from my new oral tunnel, the pink wax now glistening covered in my saliva as my tongue had probed the new invasion of my oral cavity I had started a chain of running saliva that now was pooling at the front of my mouth slowly spilling over my lower lip down my chin it hung like some obscene thread to my Now reddish face....

Mistress Mummy was massaging more firmly now, “Clever girlie all ready....Let’s get started on your “Transition” let mummy explain...You have it in that silly head of yours that your Big, well am sorry but your not....You are mummy’s Baby Girlie a three year old baby still in her nappies 24/7 who can only converse with the big world through two words Goo’goo & Ga’Ga....All other things will be in Baby signs for everyone to see, this will take time to “Transition” But Nanny Bee & I Are going to simply work on our girlie 24/7 until we have what we want of you ....An Obediently behaved 3year old toddler who will act as such at All times with who ever we choose to Put you with !”

This last part Mistress Mummy had said quite sadistic drawing her words out slowly, she was scary in her delivery of the statement !

The massaging of my shoulders now became painful (A few times in my life after heavy gym sessions I would go for a sports massage they hurt but were great to relive tensions....This ? This was different more painful as Mistress Mummy would pick up a muscle then pushing a knuckle up that muscle as if trying to detach it from its tendon, I shrieked out a painful yelp, but she ignored me doing a different muscle !

Nanny pulled up a stool at my face lifted a long black rubber lace she spoke to me..

“Now Baby As Mistress Mummy gives you your nice massaging I want you to look at me ! No closing those cute eyes !...Clever girlie Crybaby “

She pushed the rubber up my nose ! “Swallow Babyslave...Do it Swallow for Nanny !”

As I did she put long pliers into my oral tunnel withdrawing the rubber lace ! I could feel it sliding down my nasal passage!But she was not through yet..lifting the other end she put it up my left nostril...Again she barked at me !

“Swallow Babyslave !....My my what a Clever girlie you are !”

I suddenly pulled at my bonds to no avail as Mistress Mummy put a knuckle Deep into the tissues in my lower back pushing up the side for my spine the pain was incredible !...with her free hand she smacked my thigh with such force it lift a red hand print under my tight ! “Look at Nanny ! Don’t you Dare close your eyes Baby will only close her eyes when told to ! pardon Crybaby!”

Ga’Ga...Staring right at Nanny I knew better than to disobey Jessica !

“Clever girlie Crybaby that’s much better Don’t have mummy tell you Again !...Ok Nanny feeding time I think then Baby can show us how good she can be under pressure”

They both giggled at this ?

Mistress Mummy had a dummy with a black lower jaw mask that buckled around the head, but that was not what made me start welling up !

It was the 3” round 5” long cock teat ! With the open pee slit clearly visible...

This mummy pushed all the way in making me gag slightly as it went to the back of my mouth touching my throat !.....

Mistress Mummy knelt down at my face...

“Ok Princess Swallow slow & in time ok ? (Ga’Ga) Clever Baby We love manners, just do What You are Told..When you are Told & Everything will be fine don’t fight us Crybaby!!”

Suddenly something started oozing from the cock teat !! To the back of my throat but I couldn’t swallow with my mouth held open & so full...Mummy kissed my forehead..

“Just relax listen to Mummy....just open your throat & it will happen...Aawww Look Nanny Baby is shedding her Very first tears for us !...Relax Baby let it happen...Clever girlie Crybaby that’s the way !!”

As my throat had filled I thought they were going to choke me but my throat simply relaxed & the fluid slid down my throat...slowly a rhythm stared as again mummy kissed my forehead..

“Clever girlie you keep swallowing that down for us as we get a few things ready,   As you have been such a good Baby so far Mummy is going to let you smell how pleased she is with you !”

At that Jessica lifted her short skirt revealing she indeed had No underwear, she popped her skirt over my bonnet putting her sex inches from my nose...The smell was Devine as I now made suckling noises drinking the formula....

I heard Nanny giggle....”My my Mistress Mummy I think Baby like the smell of sexiness....That’s a Clever girlie Crybaby make cute baby sounds for us but Loudly Baby So we can hear properly sweetheart !!!”

They both laughed as I made more of an effort to sound like a nursing Baby !!!!!!

I could now feel my tummy swelling up due to the amount of formula I had consumed, at that mummy lent over me taking my nipples gently “Clever girlie Crybaby that’s it louder though Baby ! (Ugg...Ugg...Ugg...) Clever girlie Crybaby each time we have you Swallow Baby will make these noises as loud as she can, so everyone can hear our girlie swallowing !! Just a bit more your almost there princess ! Clever girlie baby!! All done !”

Mistress Mummy stepped off my face...her disappearing smell brought genuine baby whimpers...”Aawww Cutie That was just a wee treat...Now Crybaby has to be very clever for us ...Ok Baby?

(Ga’Ga....) Now Crybaby If your a brave girlie for us mummy will give you one of her special “Cuddles” would my baby like that? ( Ga’Ga) Ok Now Crybaby you know they are only for when you truly Breakdown for mummy, if she sees that baby is trying to fake her Breakdown ? baby Will be left alone after her Breakdown is that clear ? (Ga’Ga)...Clever girlie Let’s get on then !”

Mistress Mummy lifted a flogger running it over my back she raised it high then with one stroke flogged right over my back !

As she flogged me Nanny had a strange looking clear plastic ball large like a beach ball but as she got closer it seemed to have an oval hole ?

As I gasped from mummy’s flogging she pushed it onto my face over my bonnet, pulling a zip down the rear held it in place...she then spoke..

“Now Crybaby I want you to be ever so good & Take a nice Deep Breath for us Baby Girlie!”.....Mistress Mummy had stopped flogging me ?...

“Keep looking at me Baby...Now you will not bring up your feed...No matter what Mistress Mummy meters out....That formula stays down do you understand?

..(Ga’Ga)  Thwack !!!!....

I screamed as mummy belted me in my lower back !

She then barked at me as the pain subsided...”Deep Breath Crybaby Pain Toy !”

Thwack !!.....As I jerked in the bondage frame, I suddenly felt slightly nauseous....O’god No I was struggling to hold down my formula !!...just six strokes on my back later a white hot jet hit the ball out of the tunnel over & over ...I burst out crying as I knew what lay ahead....Jessica would be genuinely angry I had disobeyed a direct command from Nanny.......

I was Not wrong !......”Crybaby what were you told ? To keep your formula down ...So our baby girlie is going to show us disobedience ? Let’s show Crybaby what happens when she disobey’s us Nanny !”....

They each lifted a wooden paddle patting the back of my thigh!

Deep Fucking Breath Pain Toy !!!!!.....

Thwack..Thwack..Thwack Thwack. !!!!!!!!!!!

As they both paddled me a Maid entered the room dressed in my old pink uniform! She was quite Tell & very cute, as I jerked with each blow for some reason I couldn’t take my eyes off this girl wishing she would come closer as the pink haze would not let me see her fully...

My spanking suddenly picked up pace & ferocity !

I hollowed wildly from the tunnel Gagging tears now streaming from me...

Mistress Mummy rubbed my cheek Clever girlie Crybaby that’s the way let it All Out there is No shame here we all know you want to cry so very badly !

Is mummy wrong ? (Go’go) Clever Baby...Ok Maid Stefi Come here please & comfort Crybaby”

The pink maid stepped up bent down to kiss my cheek then started French kissing my mouth ..probing with her tongue on mine !

Sobbing now she stood up in front of me lifting her dress..

Maid Stefi was a transsexual her member fully erect was now passing into my mouth !

Mistress Mummy barked at me “Right Crybaby use your baby tongue on Maid Stefi  ! Mummy wants you to moan like a sissy baby in heat for cock !”

They all giggled as I moaned gagging for air as Maid Stefi started a slow skull fuck of my baby face ! Holding my ballon ball head pumping it in time forcefully with her hip thrusts !

“Clever girlie Crybaby suck hard here it comes ! Swallow cock sucker ! Yes Crybaby Swallow All my gift !....AAhhhhhhh Yes ....AAAhhhhhh fuck yes Crybaby!”

I passed out ...there voices fading into the distance......

[sparkmender]

I keep putting off making the map for Hive Iacon + Metroplex Ridge, but what I have in mind essentially is a view of the massive redwood tree (Metroplex) the Hive is built into, around, and under, with a cutaway section of the cliffside showing the burrows and tunnels underneath

The complex hanging basket and pulley system created by Wheeljack to bring Fae and supplies up from the bottom of the cliff up to the trunk

Prime’s reflection pool deep underground, Ratchet’s den in the roots of Metroplex, the Kitchen, the Archives, all the way up to individual nests and pods and hammocks in the branches

All the little hanging lanterns and twinkling lights,,

The SCALE of Metroplex is unimaginable to a human, as well. A living tree the size of a skyscraper, with the Faeries living not only on but inside of it, taking care of it and speaking to the tree as if it can hear them— which he can hear them, because Metroplex is an Ent who’s put down his roots for good there on the cliff by the sea

Iacon needs Metroplex just as much as Metroplex needs Iacon

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 28- In Shadow

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Returning to his hometown, Etho hs to balance his past with his present, as well as keep Keralis and Grian from embarrassing him in from of his old teacher and town. 

_______________________________

Etho always thought he was a handful- he may act mature, but his mind is full of mischief that would make even a criminal stumble. But dragging Keralis and Grian through the misty swamps of his home, he realizes there are more ways than one to cause trouble. 

Keralis goes sloshing away, swallowed up by the fog. The only way Etho knows he still exists is by the loud splash of the bug wizard, followed by a string of curses in his thick accent. Keralis returns to Etho’s side, wrestling a stag beetle and cooing at how lovely it looks. 

Grian on the other hand, Etho couldn’t get to shut up. “I think I have half the swamp in my boots.” 

“You could just fly.” Etho points out. 

“But I can’t see anything!” Grian’s whine echoes through the thick copse of trees, bouncing off submerged ferns and aged wood. “How do you even know where you’re going?” 

“Secret ninja techniques.” Etho muses, following the trail at his feet. Beneath the water, he can feel ridges carved into the stone, under the silt. Guiding him to his hometown. 

Keralis’s eyes get wider than usual at the sound of a branch snapping in the distance. He whips his head around, pulling on his hat and brushing closer to Etho. “Are you sure we’re alone?”

“We’re not.” Etho grins. Both Grian and Keralis whimper, searching the fog like they’re trying to see a ghost. They might as well be. “The town knows we’re coming. They’ve already seen us, even if we haven’t seen them.” 

“Ninjas.” Grian whispers. The trio continues in silence, or at least as silent as Grian and Keralis can be, sludging through the swamp. Grian chatters with himself and the bug wizard, his voice bouncing up cypress trees as tall as towers, clambering over the roots. He gets a foot tangled in the submerged vines, and goes headfirst into the slow moving brown water with a yelp. “Etho, when the hell are we going to get to this town? I haven’t seen any signs that we’re even close.” 

“Ah, yeah. I haven’t seen a spot of dry ground this whole time.” Keralis adds. “Are they on stilts? How does a town like that stay out of the swamp?” 

Etho feels the carved markings beneath his feet turn into a radiating circle, like a ripple across the surface. He stops, grabbing Keralis and Grian, a grin appearing on his unmasked face. “We’re here.” 

Grian turns around in a full circle, looking at the copse of trees. “Uhhh, are you okay Etho? This looks the same as every other part of the swamp.”

“Maybe it’s hidden in the fog? Fog magic?” Keralis waves his arms around as if he’s attempting to feel around in the dark. 

Etho leans against a root, grinning. “Try looking up.” 

Grian does so, and gasps. 

Above their head, a town hovers over them. Lantern lights split through the fog, unveiling themselves like a stage curtain, warm yellow glows dancing off the wood and paper. Beneath the strung lantern lights, dancing will-o-the-wisps above their heads, bridges of plank and rope connect tree to tree and guide the townsfolk across the swamp without making a sound. 

The fog continues to disappear, and the town of Shellor unmasks in ripples. Homes and businesses nestled in the massive trunks of the trees or perched on the expansive branches, the open air filtering the earth and water tone of the swamp air through bars, abodes, shops, and shrines. For a second, Grian wishes Mumbo was here to rant about the engineering marvel above his head. How much time it must’ve taken to build a town in the sky, where they even get the fire from, and hidden out of sight, out of sound. He never even realized they were walking beneath it. 

“How...how do we get up there?” Keralis tips his head, holding onto his hat so it doesn’t slip off. 

“Normally, adults can just climb up ourselves.” Etho launches from the root, grabbing hold of a branch and swinging himself up, higher and higher. “And Grian can fly, obviously. But- I’ll grab the basket.” 

“Basket?” Keralis watches the two disappear among the intertwining bridges. A second later, something is dropping back to the ground. It’s not a basket he thought it would be. It’s a lift of sorts. The wood floats like driftwood on the murky swamp water, the walls opening to invite Keralis in. He clambers on the wood panel, surprised to find that the weight hardly even shifts. Even when the walls pull back up around him and the basket starts to rise, he feels like he’s on solid ground. It’s the smoothest lift he’s even been on, something that would put Darlon to shame. 

Etho and Grian have their heads poking over the railing as Keralis rises up. “A pretty neat invention, huh?” Etho laughs, running a finger along the rope, watching the pulley system release the weight a distance away. “It’s not used often anymore, really just for when kids need to get down, supplies, the like.” 

Keralis stumbles onto the bridge. The warm glow of lantern light invites him deeper into Shellor, and the scent of food makes his stomach growl. Spices that dance with the mist, a warm rumble of quiet laughter from the nearby restaurant. But everyone’s movements are lithe and silent, even if their talking isn’t. Everyone in the town walks without a sound, like cats stalking their prey. Exactly how Etho walks, constantly spooking Keralis when he’s in the middle of reading or baking. 

It quiets down, and even Etho pauses. Grian and Keralis turn around, surprised to find Etho prostrating before a shrine. They never took him to be the god-worshipping kind. But they sit down next to him, looking at the shrine. It’s made of stone- how that got up here, neither of them can guess. Lanterns are kept aglow and the crescent shaped bowl protected with a carved wooden gazebo. After a few moments, Etho speaks. “Manys, god of the moon. Patron to Shellor, teacher to the art of stealth. I remember my first lesson to harness my power was to watch the full moonlight travel across the swampwater. Silent, but present.” 

“Is that how you learned to be a shadow ninja?” Keralis whispers while Grian lights a dying candle. 

“Nope.” Etho chuckles. “I definitely took a more...physical approach.” 

“Etho!” All three hermits stiffen at the shrill shriek of the shop owner a few bridges down. “I knew you’d come back! Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about all that candy you stole!” 

“Ah, that’s what you mean.” Grian muses, watching as Etho is given an earful by the man. It’s the first time Keralis and Grian have ever seen Etho embarrassed, the pale skin under his white hair blushing red, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Mr. Toku, I think Etho has heard well enough.” A warm voice, quiet but persistent, cuts through the berating tirade. Before her first syllable was uttered, Keralis and Grian knew this was someone of importance. An unusual sense of raging peace, like sitting next to a swollen waterfall in the middle of a forest, exudes from the woman like an aura. She turns, and immediately sweeps Etho into a hug. “It is good to have you home, my pupil.” 

“Hello Reverent Nama.” Etho squeaks, hardly able to breathe against such a tight hug. A weak smile appears on his face, the one person he missed most when he left being his teacher, the head monk of Shellor. Nama. He doesn’t even remember her real name, he’s always called her Nama. 

“Look at you, so tall! You grew like a shoot, Etho.” She grabs his cheek, looking at the scars on his face. “I still remember the day your magic first showed itself. Have you been using my teachings, anak ko?” 

“Nama, I remember it all. But you know me.” He offers a sly grin, but nods silently. “I still like to watch the moon, though.” 

“The best teacher, and the mother always with you.” Nama’s voice dips into a lower octave at her sagely advice, before rising back up as a smile creases her warm, deep toned skin. “But you must be starving, walking through the swamp. Come, bring your friends.” 

She waves her hands, blue and white robes beckoning the weary travelers deeper into the town. A glint of lantern light catches Grian’s attention, and his eyes go as wide as saucers at the sight before him. The biggest gong he’s ever seen in his life. Taller than Grian, even with his wings stretched high above his head, the silver metal glimmering like the moon at the center of the town. Archways decorate and dance around the massive instrument. Grian’s drawn to the gong like a moth to the flame. 

Only to be thwarted by Etho. He grabs Grian by the collar, dragging him back in line with Reverent Nama and the other monks. Keralis giggles and teases Grian even as they enter the raised, thatched house. Bowed roofs similar to the arches and pagodas they saw before protect angular, woven walls and open windows. The swamp breeze filters through the mat-strewn floor as Nama opens the sliding door. Nama disappears into an upper level, before returning with a steaming teapot and five different plates of food. The boys sit at the low table, suddenly alone with the leader of Shellor. Silent as shadows, her peers had disappeared. Like ninjas. “I assume this is not just a family visit.” 

“How did you know?” Keralis croons, sipping on the warm tea poured before him. His eyes light up at the fried, wrapped treat set on his plate. His massive bug eyes only unnerve Nama, repositioning in her seat at the sight of such strange friends Etho brought. 

“Etho isn’t exactly the visiting kind. A practical pupil, even to the day he left.” 

“Nama, you of all people know how to gather information. You see what the moon sees.” She nods at Etho’s words. It’s not hyperbole- it’s her magic. “Surely you have information about husk monsters attacking all over Lairyon.” 

“Why does that interest you, Etho?” Nama gazes over the rim of her teacup.

“We intend to stop it.” Grian states, flat and plain. Etho seethes, sending imaginary daggers at the blond angel before him. He needs to be more subtle than that! 

“Finally, someone to take up the mantle.” She responds. “I have heard worrisome things, are you three sure you can handle such a task?” When all of them nod, she continues. “Then you need to start here- husks have been attempting to enter Shellor for the past few days. They have broken through our mist barrier, but have been unable to reach the town. I do not think they will stop trying until they reach the bridges.”

“They want to steal your magic, your power. They’ll kill you all.” Etho growls. 

“Exactly as what my informants told me. Do you boys think you could defeat an army of mindless creatures?” She pauses, looking at their faces. Seeing the glint in their eyes and knowing. “Excuse me, I have underestimated you. It seems you have already done so before.” 

“We’ll need more than just your information, Reverent Nama. We need supplies, tools of stealth that only Shellor can create. We need to use every advantage we can find to stop these husks. To stop-”

“To stop Magistrate Dolios, yes.” Nama nods, a growl breaking through her neutral expression. “Whatever you and your friends need, I will be happy to give. But for now, eat! Tell me, anak ko, who are your friends here.” She leans over to Etho. “Is the one with the large eyes okay? Is he some sort of hybrid?” 

Etho chuckles, and welcomes the warm food of home into his body. He missed the taste of good palabok, wishing at least one other hermit could cook his hometown’s food like Nama could. He introduces Keralis, quickly explaining his magic, then moving onto Grian. Even Nama, in all her wise counselling, was shocked to learn he was an angel mage. She knew they existed, beneath the watchful eyes of the moon, but to see one in front of her? And in a guild as wayward as Etho describes? 

Their plates are filled as fast as they’re emptied, food appearing out of what felt like nowhere. Etho smiles as he hears laughter rise from his friends and teacher. He left Shellor because he felt restrained. But to be home? It felt freeing, now that he’s an adult. Now that he has his guild, he feels more connected to here than ever before. They continue talking well into the night, until the fog fades and the moon observes the quiet swamp. 

Nama closes her eyes, falling into a quiet meditation at the dinner table. But when her eyes open, it’s anything but calm. She rises so fast her knees almost spill the table over, robes fluttering like leaves in the wind. “They’re here. Oh gods, they’re already at the barrier.

“You wanted lessons in stealth? Well, lesson number one- don’t let your enemy see you.” Nama motions for another monk, and he casts his magic circle. In one deep breath, he inhales the magic. And a gust of wind from his lips blows out every single candle. Only the full moonlight bears illumination upon the town. 

And the distant crack of lightning, an ashen storm visible through the spindly cypress trees.

Townsfolk shuffle in the dark, accustomed but alarmed. Night is when Shellor is most alive, lanterns lit and moon in full view. Nama sends her monks to scout ahead, to be the first line of defense, before marching towards the center of town. 

Towards the gong. It reflects the moonlight, blue luminescence titillating across the silver instrument. A mallet the length of Nama’s arm is plucked from the arch, but she pauses. Looking over her shoulder, she sees Etho practically holding Grian back, the angle bouncing in his boots. Like so many of her other pupils, and who is she to deny him something so exciting? She hands the mallet into Grian’s hand. He wastes no time putting it to work. With wings unfurling and hovering at the center of the circle. One mighty reel backwards, he swings. The mallet strikes the metal, and both Grian and the gong reverberate in response. A low, loud ringing warns the entire town they’re under attack. Grian still feels the sensation of the strike in his arms even after he lands. 

“The husks aren’t after anything in particular- they just want as much magic as possible.” Etho warns, pulling free his kusarigama, watching the darkness. In the distance, a blood curdling howl of a banshee turns even his blood cold. He doesn’t want to face that beast on good terms, much less a creepy husk version. 

“How can you stop them?” Nama questions, dipping her arms into her robes. She doesn’t need a weapon to be dangerous. 

“There’s no crystal.” Keralis warns. “But there is a darkness storm.” He points to the distant canopy, black clouds roiling across the sky. 

“We just have to defeat them. One by one, it will weaken the storm and purge the land of their presence.” Grian flutters over the side of the bridge, looking down. Below, among the swamp water and cypress roots, monsters and mages scrabble up the aged cypress wood. Throwing themselves higher and higher, unlike Etho’s smooth agility to the town. “No matter what, don’t let your fighters get caught by the husks. They’ll turn into one.” 

“Stealth is our trade, angel.” Nama hums, arm reappearing and offering up supplies to the trio. Smoke bombs, firecrackers, magical climbing gear for Keralis, an enchanted mirror to Grian. “We shall do our best, but you three are clearly the masters in this battle.” 

Nama steps back, and bows. Pride swells in Etho’s chest, almost causing him to tear up. If he didn’t hear the snarls of darkness consumed being of pure anger, hatred, and power, he probably would’ve. He’s never seen Reverent Nama bow to anyone else before. 

And then she’s gone. Disappearing among her robes, the hermits next see her down at the roots. Battling with a cold rage, like sunlight reflecting off the moon. Etho hands a few smoke bombs to his friends, grinning. “Let’s raise hell, shall we?”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Hunting”

Here is another story requested by a few of you (my lovely readers). Forgive me if I am not entirely accurate on this one. While I grew up where hunting was a thing, I never got around to actually participating, though I wish I would have tried at least once. 

The leaves overhead rattled in a chilled autumn breeze. On Earth, the plants had adapted to the harsh winters, and so shed their leaves going sort of…. Dormant....through the cold season, assuming they had leaves instead of needles, and the forest floor was blanketed with the decomposing remnants bright red and orange on the top layer, and a dark moldering brown on the lower layers.

It was just barely warm enough for Krill to be outside of his enclosure floating softly through the air tethered to one of his human companions who crouched in the leaves. He was very silent predatory eyes facing forward into the trees. When he moved he moved unfathomably silently despite the leaves placing his booted feet on patches of open earth.

Two other humans ranged out to their sides slowly moving through the trees barely visible to krill, who couldn’t make them out against the backdrop of foliage, especially not with the confusing patterned clothing that they wore which broke up their bodies and caused them to blend backwards into the foliage. He only caught a glimpse of them every so often as they moved silently through the trees.

Adam came to a knee on a mossy patch of rock hand braced against the ground. 

Krill shivered as he watched the other humans fall into a similar position. He had always called humans predatory, and science had proven that long ago, but he had never expected to see it in action. Though it may have seemed unbelievable, on their planet, humans were some of the slowest weakest , and arguably the most useless creatures, but mentally there was no foil, and the evidence of that showed in the technology used to aid their hunting ventures. Camouflage to help them be unseen compasses to help them find the way, and the lightweight carbon-fiber contraption gripped lightly in his left hand.

The human crouched on the ground peering through the trees and adjusted the contraption to rest over his knee. It was strange, an oddly shaped length of carbon fiber, aluminum and fiberglass ending in a set of pulleys which secured a fibrous length of cord between the two extreme ends. 

Slowly and with very deliberate movement, the human reached back and drew a long black shaft from an open tube on his back. The back end of the shaft had three foam patches on it two in orange and one in white, and the other end…. Had a flittering set of blades reaching an apex at a single point. The human slowly moved his hand down and set the back end of the shaft against the cord.

The two other humans with him turned and he motioned the one to the left with a wide turn of his hand motioning him to flank around to the side.

Krill watched in great fascination and unease as the hunting human slipped into the brush. Adam stuck a finger in his mouth and held it up to the air “Checking the wind” as he had explained earlier. From the slight drift Krill was getting, he would say there was a slight breeze heading towards them. Adam seemed satisfied and turned to motion his other brother, Jeremy, off to the other side.

David was nowhere to be seen.

Krill hid behind a tree staring around at the strange alien landscape, and the strange human hunters. He really had not wanted to come with them into the hostile landscape even less so when he learned he was going to watch them hunt and kill another creature, but curiosity had gotten the better of him, so he had accompanied the humans as they had made their way into the woods.

 At first, nothing had seemed particularly off about the situation. The three men had walked together talking and laughing, Adam somewhat less than normal considering he was still recovering psychologically after a very hard few months, but still all had seemed well, and then, after a couple hours of aimless wandering, the group of men had stopped on the open side of a ridge peering downwards into a valley with contraptions allowing them to see further.

The moon had changed significantly after that.

It was as if a switch had flipped , and the three men grew very, very quiet. They had slowly fanned out over a distance of twenty yards to either side knees bend slightly shoulders hunched eyes facing forward stalking through the trees with near silent footsteps as their, once strange, clothing began to demonstrate a new purpose as their bodies began to shimmer and vanish, to Krill’s eyes, against the background of trees and dying leaves.

Humans weren’t generally this quiet, and it unsettled Krill as he watched them stalking through the trees.

And then they sait waiting ten minutes turned into twenty twenty became thirty and thirty grew towards an hour of just watching as the humans sat perfectly still and in place unwilling to move a muscle. He had never seen a human hold so still in their life, much less Adam, but there he sat crouched on the ground as a chill wind blew past him through the trees. Out of morbid curiosity, Krill inflated himself a little bit more elevating himself towards the middling branches of the trees. Through the shedding branches he could just make out a clearing up ahead.

It was large and spacious with gently swaying grass fading from a light green to a dusky yellow color, and in that clearing, he could just make out a clump of brown shapes. It was difficult to make out from here, seeing as he did not have the best eyesight…. In comparison to humans, but he animals standing before him were strange beasts, quite large about the height of a human or more…. Some of the larger ones anyway. They had tan to brown coats, and the larger one’s head was crowned with a strange branching of bone.

It was a rather eerie sight. The creature lifted it’s head and sniffed at the air, easily supporting the great branches atop its head points glistening in the dim overcast light of the sky above. Its large ears flickered, and it’s wide, dark eyes scanned the trees about them. Around it, the smaller creatures, without the strange protrusions, lifted their heads as well turning towards the opposite end of the clearing.

Krill wouldn’t have been able to tell the creatures were prey animals if it wasn’t for the lateral positioning of their eyes. To him the beasts were terrifying, especially the large one which would have used it;;s horns to gore him in half if it really wanted.

Surely the humans weren’t after these things.

The large one sniffed the air again and pawed at the ground in agitation. As if on quq, the group of animals began making their way closer towards the hiding humans. A few broke out into a light trot and padded through the tall grass. Their agitation had not yet broken into full blown panic, though it definitely should have.

Krill could see the human now crouching in the bushes eyes locked upon the large thorny creature at the head of the pack. He inched forward taking a knee against the ground. The creature had turned its head facing backwards, but from what Kril Could tell, it’s line of sight would have been blocked by a set of branches just to the front of its face. The human took this opportunity lifting the contraption before his face and drawing the cord back. One hand held out straight forward and the other one drawn back to his cheek thumb delicately brushing against the side of his mouth. The weapon did not quiver. 

The animal lifted its head.

The human let out a slow breath going very still and let go of the cord. There was a loud TWACK! And then a shrill scream as the animal bucked kicked and then fell over writhing in place. Its shrill cries echoed through the valley stirring the rest of the herd into a terrified frenzy, and together they bolted through the trees with the thundering of hooves. 

The three humans converged from the woods breaking cover and no longer attempting to silence their footsteps. One broke from the left one broke from the right, and Adam ran straight up the middle. Krill watched in abject horror as the three humans surrounded the dying animal. The creatures wide dark eyes stared up at the surround predators in fear. David stepped forward drawing back another arrow, from a few paces away, put a shaft through its eye.

The creatures cries were silenced fading slowly into a dying echo as he lowered his bow, and the three humans morphed back into their earlier selves.

“Nice shot.”

“If it was a nice shot, I would have killed it.” Adam retorted. Uneasily KRill lowered himself form the sky staring in fearful fascination at the creature lying dead on the forest floor. The humans had done it, they had just…. Killed it. 

And now they planned on eating it.

Jeremy dropped to one knee handing his bow off to Adam, “Tell your little alien friend he might want to turn away for this part.

Adam turned to look at Krill his single green eye flickering in the dying light of the sun, “We aren’t planning on dragging the entire thing out…… which means we have to gut it.” Krill didn’t need more prompting and turned away. Despite that, he could still hear the sound of rending flesh as the humans tore the creature apart into its component parts. The thought struck him with abject horror, and he wondered how it could be like this. Adam, a usually mild and unaggressive creature capable of stalking, hunting and dismembering something, but a lot fo humans were like that seemingly mild and unaggressive until they weren’t.

“Why dod you do this.” Krill wondered in shock 

David took this one coming around to face Krill wiping his hands on some disinfecting wipes, “Depends, we used to do it for survival, and then we did it for sport, and we’ve always done it to eat because they taste good, but the reason we do it now has to do with population control. Last couple of years some sort of disease has been tearing through the predator population, especially wolves. IN turn the deer population saw a MASSIVE increase. They are having trouble feeding all of them, and grazing habits have caused issue with other species and wildland. Generally nature would take care of the issue, but it's been affecting some families and homes in the nearby area. The government gives out tags to hunters to take down the males to reduce population growth and control. Once the disease dies down, and the predator population goes up, they will be giving out wolf tags.”

Behind him one of the humans laughed, “I know you don't like the idea much Krill, but humans are hunters always have been always will be. The difference now is, we understand the kind of impact we have, and we know how to use what we kill to the best of our ability.”

Adam dusted off his hands.

Krill looked back at them expression unsure trying to ignore the caracc laid at their feet. Looking in their eyes, he didn’t see anything different, no signs of sadistic pleasure or a change for the worst, but perhaps that is what bothered him. The fact that killing something really didn’t change the way they felt, didn’t change anything about them. This was something that they did, and something they had done for thousands of years.

Perhaps he would never understand it.  In comparison to creatures on their planet, he had more in common with the trees than he had in common with animals, so his species would never understand consumption for survival.

But still there was something about the way they moved that day, the way they had circled and sluk through the trees that would always stick with him.

It was a reminder.

A reminder that man had grown up in a harsh world.

A reminder that man was at his core.

A hunter

[highsviolets]

breathless, chapter 3: an obi-wan x 90s!reader au

summary: in which you and Ben discover that nothing is like the first time, but maybe time is a construct anyway

word count: 3.2k+ 

cw: kissing. light references to smoking, a lil angst, some language  

A/N: this could not have happened without @afogocado​. Thank you for encouraging me to continue this lil fic and an endless supply of ewan pics and listening to me ramble and omg ilysm 

 references // previous // next // series masterlist 

“my curfew’s at midnight.”

Ben doesn’t look at you when he speaks. Well, he does. Just not right now. He’s busy at the moment, tinkering with something in the hood of his car. hunter green t-shirt — auburn hair — something out of goddamn salinger novel ((or maybe dos passos))

you look up at him. you’re settled on a skateboard ((he’s far too trusting of your ability to remain upright)). listless currents from a fan — somewhere, in the garage, you think — ripple in that nomadic space between his t-shirt and your skin.

remarks are so curious a thing, and you watch yours descend upon him. not quite a cascade. not quite a pittance of cleansing summer rains. it’s something other — but not ethereal — it’s here, it’s now, it’s taking you, too, holding you in thrall — words bump into skin ((sinew and sin)).

“it’s about doing the right thing.” the grind of one metal locking its relatives, corollaries, corrosions, into place has ceased. or maybe only paused. you’re not sure the car is done. but Ben looks at you, and you know he’s done. done explaining himself.

the skateboard’s wheels squeak and cry out against the pavement when you adjust. legs stretched out — ragged vans pointing above ((wherever that is)) — violet tipped hands clutching the back edges — knees exposed — just kissing the faintness of tangible ((affection or affectations, what’s the difference?))

“i know.” freckles gaze into the sun, his eyes, reflections. he expects your explanation to be plaintive. institutional. it’s not. “i just wanted to know why.”

Ben shakes his head, once, twice, thrice — face still half-soaked in the shadow of the hood — astonishment is plain to see in the flatness of his cheeks — the waltzing of his tongue on his upper lip.

Two seconds later he is right there, crouching ((muscles straining)) next to you, the leather tips of air jordans exotic and smooth against the external lateral bone of your left knee. His eyes, screwed up at the invasion of the sun against their tranquility, stare at the meeting of his shoes and your body and then he is gazing at you.

angels manipulate his mouth into a smile — Ben’s yours, now — hands are clasped — battles halt in the ceasefire. “I should really stop underestimating you.”

Ben reaches out. Two fingers ride the length of your cheekbone. They still as skin morphs into frizzled, sun-bleached hair at the crown of your head, in that space between your ear and eyebrow. your head nudges into his terms of surrender. “That would probably be best,” you say. The pause between conditional tense and adverb is like the space between you and him, an assured hesitancy, caught between becoming and being, trapped in an interstitial existence.

it’s so fucking americana it hurts.

hair , secured by a scrunchie the same shade as your fingertips, is given a light tug. let’s get you home, he says, and your presence wilts in upon itself , he senses the rush of photosynthesis exiting your body and brings your lips to caress his.

it doesn’t feel like the first time — nothing ever does — familiar in semantics — murky in meaning — singeing and sweet — a transfusion of significance between you and him.

the breaking away comes with a solemn sigh. he’s rising and bringing you with him. you resist the urge to stage a coup and use the skateboard to rocket yourself into his arms ((a safehouse you’ve found)).

___

time: a nebulous concept for you. it’s pages dogeared and how many days until the next cd is shipped to the store and how many t-shirts you’ve accosted from oaken drawers.

it’s a far more solid object for him. a tangible weave of textures and patterns that he notices in the scrunchies now in the car’s island of misfits ((he still hasn’t told you the make and model)) and how many times you guide his hand around your waist while you eat ice cream ((vanilla in a cone with sprinkles)) and the pens he’s busted through since you first met ((he knows the number , they’re immortalized in a tin cup on his shelf))

Ben’s holding one that has yet to join its brothers in the tin graveyard. The clicker rests against his teeth. It looks seductive in his mouth. Like he can make you keen with just an imitation of the real thing, with words and ideas. Words twirled around the air have power. You both know this.

You’re the one who’s twirling, though. spinning around his bedroom — boombox emitting a Billy Joel song at least ten years mature — mouth forming words you have yet to possess the courage to blare — so much like your kisses.

((the words come through in the translation , the body moves but he hears the soul))

he watches you and he is transfixed. he knows you do not know how much you are revealing to him. at least not consciously. but you want him to crawl into your soul and never leave. he does not see it or hear it or feel it as much as he experiences truth, the clumsy trio dotting patterns across his extremities and seeping into his essence ((what it means to be human)) like an antibiotic ointment. he is scared you will stick to things for which you are not designed. but it’s too late and he’s covered in the stuff, slick with you. unleashed in a trigonometric function of three sides ((him / you , other)). sins and signs and echoing sunlight.

your smile mimics his as you edge toward the bed where he’s sprawled out. you laugh and he matches you, shaking his head in rare & unguarded ((unabashed , unembarrassed)) regard. you are in harmony.

skin meets skin — heels arched into the carpet — he’s too strong too stubborn — and you fail and fall and spill over him — tumbling over his torso, legs mashed — the heat of his victorious grin burns the atmospheric bubble arching over the two of you.

You’re not sure if the record stops or if you’ve just ceased hearing it. he arranges you ((like a bouquet, like a song)) on the bed. he stares down at you. the eyes are stormy again, like before he kissed you the first time ((but nothing’s ever like the first time)). they say eyes are the window to the soul. Your hands whisk the hair that’s dangling there, like you can quiet him by quelling his independently-minded locks. it seems to work. he blinks and when you see the sun again it’s brighter, bluer, but maybe that’s because he’s so still now.

he does not move. He may not have danced but his soul is pressing into you like a dagger ((did you fall on a sword)). Ben cuts off your impending speech with conciliatory kiss. “i know , darling” , and the words etch themselves into reality against your body.

—-

Ben is distant and he is near to you all at once. There are corners of his being that you want to slide and drag and push to the surface. maybe if you do he will start to make sense. form follows function, he tells you, and the words feel as yellow as the pages on which they’re inked.

it doesn’t make sense to you — “you have too much sense, dear one” — elinor and marianne — but for all his purity he does not dance — no ricochets in his lever and pulley soul.

you are glass and flannel and he is steel and silk. he is not quite your sun, or your moon, or your stars, and not even your world. but you are rapidly terraforming to his sundry heights and arid permafrost and the devil’s sun that makes a home in his fingers, in his mouth ((yet he is not lucifer, nor abdiel perhaps he is raphael)).

Ben watches you soak in him. He takes note, n.b., nota bene, notes well, excellently, the stillness of your hands ((the tremors have lessened, but have they learned?)). your words are teal and vermillion and ecru and weeping with tannins. Ben deduces ease, easel, paint, art as you furrow into his chest. His mind infers souls through their bodies. Form follows function. Function follows form. Maybe it’s all the same, and Maybe It Isn’t.

Through your mirror he sees himself with you but he does not comprehend. He is bewildered.

nails boards cones sheets — teeth fingers knees breath — swerving form yielding function clutching grasping — all so very , sine qua non — aspectu sine logos — why does the latin transform into Greek

Morpheus, he thinks, nods sagely. he hurls ticket stubs and lipstick napkins and sense ((you)) into shoeboxes and mailboxes and shadowboxes. he refuses a photo of you, with you, for you and takes your knotted eyes and throws them, too, into the nearest body of water. you are close but you are not near ((droplets on tanned skin, drowning in the water)) and it is all he can do to obey his life and he does not know that sartre laughs at him and de beauvoir pokes her lover.

you are not at the middle of your life and neither is he. the path is still obscured by the trees. is charon delivering you to this threshold of the styx ((stones, bones, death)) or the tip of the world where the stars scrape into the heavens with a different edge? he is rising: he brings you with him. so it was in the past, but does the past presage the future? if he is raphael then he is virgil ((Maybe it’s all the same, and Maybe It Isn’t))

epic firestorm of righteous creation myths — empirical histories — imperial truths. but no. dante, where is dante, is he off in firenze, dancing in florid colors? no. dante is in exile, civitas ex nihilo : in need of virgil. guide him to transcendence.

____

you do not see him for several days. maybe it is weeks. you aren’t sure. time is not empirical, Ben has told you, it’s something you have to feel through its measuring ((sometimes vibrancy tips out of his ridges)). but you wish he had let you take a picture of the two of you. you are more like him than you realize , the truest truths are the ones you can touch.

it is the longest you have not seen him, and it is very hot. the pool, the lake, they’re not the same when you can’t thread sand through his hair and be abducted by his gaze as you read ((spirited away from his bookshelf)).

you’re running out of books — running out of time? — but time is not statistical — multidimensionality of you and him — there is no space where he does not compress himself to exist with you.

“it’s not a phase, mom,” you say, and take another bite of cereal.

“you need to make up your mind.” the crunch is effective at blocking out the noise, and your mind continues on its path. you wonder if DJ Tanner ever felt like this. hair surfaces in your bowl, and you pluck it out, grimacing. Maybe you should cut your hair. it’s hot out. DJ had short hair.

a rap on the table — spoon? knuckle? you can’t tell — strikes you. the words reality and wake up and decisions and wasteful are abrasions on your knees, still sore from too many tries on Ben’s skateboard ((he had smiled at your earnestness and kissed away the latent tears , let your body do its healing)).

you do not speak words so much as you give birth to emotions, agonizing and cruel and hideous. you do not know what you say or if you even say it ((dissociation)). but it is metallic in your mouth and turncoat shaking fingers and the sinking sound of unharnessed emotion in your ears.

it is hot and stifling and too much when you leave. nothing is feeling right — that stillness has lodged in your diaphragm again — opaque skies mock you — rain comes and you are colliding with nature and you are losing

Ben is standing underneath the overhang at the library ((it always comes back to the library)) and you wonder if you’re finally hallucinating. you voice forms itself to his name and he turns, damp hair following a few seconds later, and he drops his cigarette at the sight of you.

Exhilaration delivers specks of mud on your legs and arms but it is no matter. the time and space continuum has rectified and he is in front of you, giving you a cigarette, gray t-shirt abstracting to his muscles as much as your vans cling languidly to soggy toes.

he exhales smoke the way he says your name. it is precise and pious and it blooms over you like pink and purple hydrangeas.

Ben sees the gouges in your eyes and chastises your traitorous hands and absorbs you. cigarettes slump, abandoned, as he presses your cheek to his heart ((the conjunction of your logic and heat meeting his fervent center)). you cling to him and he does not resist but molds himself to you. time stops ((it’s an illusion)). rain continues. Ben’s kisses glide along your hairline, your forehead. it tickles and you laugh and his smile takes shape against your frontal cortex.

you pull him into the rain even as he protests ((but he’s laughing and the clouds pause, time takes a breath , are you time)) and you kiss him. it is like something breaks in him or perhaps the rain has induced erosion or maybe he is like you and there is a filigree thread connecting his head with his heart and constructing a railway through his body. Ben is all the lightning — the sky has crowned a new Zeus —  you hold him as the thunder in his soul cracks and pulls

((maybe kant was wrong about time and heidegger was right about dwelling and nothing crystallizes in his soul like you do))

the two of you alight to his car ((still unknown yet cordial, native)) and when you reach his building he opens your door and scoops you up in his arms and it is like that first time by the pool ((but nothing is ever like the first time)).

your hand makes a fist in his soggy shirt and his hair is pasted to his forehead and you cannot censor the searing, violent, desideratum swooping over you ((nor can you pause the absurd laugh that gushes out of your heart at his display of exorbitant chivalry)).

“i can walk,” you say as he wades through water that’s now folding over his skin, lapping up his electrolytes.

“yes, dearest, but you can’t swim, can you?” he likes to respond with questions, but this one’s  an answer. Ben’s clutching you so tightly that you can’t see his face but you feel the contentment in his tone—it dashes into you like the rain currently encompassing the Earth, hesitant with the effort of exertion, with the weight of metal souls. “I’m just preemptively forbidding a disaster, darling.” there’s a tenderness bridging Ben’s raw power and mischievousness —  the network protrudes — extracorporeal ((does he know?))

He cherishes the rain, Ben tells you later, when existence reduces to you and him and incandescent petrichor and the pasticcio of kisses, heartbeats, palms on skin.

___

Ben is not carefree, but he is not serious. it is like he has learned that he can take up space ((empirical)). there is less constriction, tension, stenosis in his body ((the filigree is stretching his limbs)). movements are not languid but nor are they demonstrations of correctness. not slouching — just not strictly upright.

your hair gets tangled, like his sheets, like his legs in yours, and you tell him you want to cut it. An auburn eyebrow lifts archly, and he runs a finger down the length of your arm, tracing the veins ((your life)). “how will I teach you how to swim if you chop off your legs, darling?” Ben’s voice is charcoal. gray, yellow red orange burning, glowing at the edges. He draws up blueprints for cities in your open palm.

You make a quip about the ship of state and he snorts. When he shakes his head, his other hand — the one not serving as an architect on your body — shags through his hair, tanned skin meeting with copper effervescence in a ragged tryst. “i like its hows” he murmurs against your lips and you cannot protest, not when his caustic tongue ices, soothes, pacifies your conflagration.

The two of you are at the pool, again. He’s on his break. The air’s circulation is viscous, shoving over your skins. It straps you in — like the fanny pack around his waist. Ben’s donned his lifeguard pack for work, swapping out his array of gauche accessories for the traditional red and white accoutrement now fastened at his hips.

the most important things in his life, Ben thinks as he inhales the light spice of a Malboro, start with “l”. learning, lady, library, liberty, lake, logos, love. he doesn’t know from where last word originates; he must learn ((connaître ou savoir?)). in his experience, there’s no such thing as luck. He feels like a character in one of those war movies filmed right before he was born, smoking lucky strikes in a foxhole and just trying to stay alive, goddamnit, just trying to get through the war.

The two of you are always watching each each other. The obtuse phenomenology plays out like a courtly masquerade. veritas, quid est veritas, for here both object and deception are degrees of truth. He smirks around the cigarette and you blush but your eyes hold his and you catch his approval and stuff it inside your heart.

Ben takes your hand and places it on his thigh as you speak. the two of you are straddling a lacquered yellow beach chair, offensive in its self-confidence. he leans forward and touches his forehead to yours. he likes to take initiative — he is making use of his knowledge, he told you once, mumbled and sleepy, when you had whispered the question against his shoulder late one night.

Ben brings himself nearer to you. sweat — splashes — dangling exertions — smoke — sunscreen. it all plays about your lips and in your blood and in his hands that keep yours pressed against his flesh. someone yells at him to get his ass back to work and Ben rolls his eyes.

“duty calls.” his actions, the chair: they embolden you to dip your voice, your thoughts, mayhap you actions to a lower register.

He ducks his head to peer at your face, like that first time when you were falling over ((but nothing is like the first time)). as he passes the remainder of the cigarette to you, the words he speak sound like him, carry his weight, refracted starlight from coal. “we all have a duty. even you.” Ben doesn’t need to say his duties; they are his life, his schedule, the notebooks in haphazard stacks under the bed, his tin cups of pens. you wonder if you are part of his list ((if the cables have let you traverse the journey from his heart to his head)).

when you tell him that he is diamond but you a like one of those new gems they make in labs — what are they called — moissanite, he shakes his head. “you are not so scientific, darling.” fingers squeeze yours. “you are burning skies and delimitations and biting stars — the most natural things that exist.”

((you are not sure if you believe him, because nothing is like the first time)).

[curious-minx]

Heat Lamp vol. [i]

A how-to guide on harnessing the very best light for your under-lit overly priced hovel! In Style!

“Lighting is everything, you goon!” spits Magda Marlene, and, of course, she’s absolutely correct.

“Don’t call me a goon, Magda! I’m trying my best. Have you ever tried shopping around for the best possible lights? Of course not. The challenge of conceiving of wattage and luminosity in the abstract blue light tech etching our basic human retinas will never compete with the likes of you. “ Elroy wipes away the trail of verbiage slipping down his prominent jawline. He attempts to grab at Magda to make her take him seriously, but it was impossible, because after all she is enshrouded in light. She is the kind of bruising overwhelming beauty that is perpetually well lit. Magda has endured a panorama of over stuffed suits of testosterone tossing off a clip of one-liners about her “lighting up a room,” because she had already brightened her entire surrounding vicinity. Light seeping out as far as several stories above and below whatever apartment is lucky enough to grace her presence. You had to alert your local neighboring Vampire’s of someone like Magda coming around. To forget would be akin to a hate crime. 

“I do take pity on you sallow beef man. You are close, so close I can nearly taste your success, but this lack of suitable lighting! This will  be your ruin. That’s what all the Entertainment and Arts are all about-,”

“Yes, the lighting! The wonderful bright, but not too bright lighting. I know Magda. Ugh! I much prefer if we go back to when you would stick to sending me laymen articles on the anatomy of human eyeballs and the latest breakthroughs in light-based therapy, but now all I hear is your dogmatic barking.” 

“You sure do talk a lot for a layman. Why did you want to touch me? Don’t tell me you’re starved for human contact!” 

“Of course not! Don’t be foolish! You know I’m not attracted to you. It’s the only reason why you even bother gracing me with your infernal light. Why won’t you sell some of your light source already?”

“Oh no no no, not this this again. I will have no further discussion about the selling off of my light.” 

“You won’t share your light, you won’t sell your light, but all I ever hear you go on and on about is the importance of light! Don’t you think you’re being a little selfish?” Elroy tries sizing Magda up and all around with his big soulful hazel  brown dopey puppy dog eyes. 

“What is this, ‘on and on’ slander? That’s a complete and total falsity! I barely even talk to you! You asked me to come over and help you pick out a new light. Yet here you stand insulting me and everything I represent. I knew all men were trash! I really wanted a reciprocal  easy going friendship receptacle. Like the ones you see on flashy American sitcoms, but no! Instead you reek of man boy desperation. You are not Easy Elroy, nor are you sleazy enough to warrant a pass. Good day!” And with that Magda leaves Elroy in his room. A room that is painted a banana baby sick off-scrambled eggs shade of yellow that made Elroy think of himself as a “warmed over Simpson” whenever he looks at himself with his overhead lights on. Magda leaves him behind so that she can go attend a life devoid of preening men devoid of any elevated levels of cognitive stimulus. Magda had a strong feeling deep inside that being eaten out by Elroy would feel either like the confectionary sugar clinging to a beater or a cow pondering the universe with a cud.  Magda has bigger prospects to attend such as the purchasing of a new Ultrasonic Television, a television for people too interesting to own a regular television. Now this is a process more grueling than picking out some sort of pathetic LED lights set out to emphasize poor life choices. 

Magda’s candles burn ferociously for the scented perfume wick of her occasional beaux Hillary. Oh sweet sister Hillary.  Magda flips a dizzy spell as she gets behind the wheel of her space craft. In the driver’s seat she grabs and teases pinching caresses onto her sides, hands running underneath her shirt and imagines Hillary’s hazy visage.  Magda turns on The Quick’s Mondo Deco, the album is lodged into the fourth track already, “Hillary.” The porto-phrenetic ASMR zipper crunch! The perfect symmetry of a song making sense for the right woman in the right space and time. Magda wishes she could be some special somebody’s Kim Fowley. She knew she has the making of a Valkyrie companion. Mostly a bottom, but occasionally there’s a switch…a candy striped hypnosis stick being cradled in Magda’s hand turns her space craft into autopilot. The space craft assumes a sensible soaring speed, sharing the sky with all the other avians and sky ships. Magda lands onto the fetid grassless knoll where she finds the manor of Scent Maven Monique. A west coast equivalent of a Hobbit Hole in the Hills. Except instead of a 5,7” English gentleman it is a 5,7” Black American bohemian scientist woman. Magda lights up one of Monique’s Pixie Stix a jolt of nicotine, THC, estrogen, nootropicals, and most importantly caffeine. Cigarettes that don’t make you smell like cigarettes, that don’t make you smell like anything, but a hint, a wink, a whisper, and a prayer of exotic bubblegum. 

A Vaping Assassin is prowling on her rooftop. Antonia, The Daycrawler, of course. A woman so intimidating in strength and beauty that all law officers around the country worship at her talon toes. Lines of swat teams, cops, and military official personally see fit the they get their asses beaten by Antonia’s hand each and every year at The National Cop Christmas Party. Monique is constantly alienating, offending and inspiring everyone she works with, but they usually only send soft assassins like Soy Hands Flannigan or the Detangler. Magda believes that this must be the opening salvo of a new killer regime. 

“Quit your daydreaming Magda Marlene! Are you really about to let me red rover your special number one gal? I am dropping through the ceiling now! Catch ya later!” Antonia is always narrating her actions to her blind brother Donovan who makes glass sculptures for an assassin’s memento. Some assassins keep locks of hair, some assassins keep emails, some assassins bond and indulge their impotent’s brother pop art. The giant blocky neon green rotary telephone with each notch designed with a mysterious suggestion of a dreary person. A lot of guilt trips about being sent to  mental institutions and the occasional rainbow clamshell birth control pill case. All glass blown by the Daycrawler’s blind and naive brother. Monique doesn’t stand a chance! 

“Oh no,” mouths Magda. She’s going to be vaporized by that tall Nordic pillar of mayhem. Quentin Tarantino might as well be hanging himself up here on Monique’s roof turning himself into the human satellite, beaming this impeding cyclone of beautiful woman on beautiful woman violence for all of his cronies to see. “Not today,” mouths Magda. With a flick of her wrist, bracelets of light begin forming and overlapping. Discs of light coursing up and down Magda’s forearm. Magda then hides her arms underneath her long and flowing cherry blossom trench coat. Magda’s light does not instantly light up the rest of Monique’s abode. Antonia is hiding her frustration and she looks around Monique’s mostly spacious and poorly lit living quarters. Seeing only a completely stainless steel coated mini-kitchen and a chest level table top. No chairs. No other furniture or trace of personality. Magda hopes that this cat and mouse game will grow less cheesy and the Daycrawler will soon leave irate and hungry. 

“Aha! You got me good Light Bright. Of course you knew she wasn’t here and distracted me. For such good work I will personally see to killing you myself. I haven’t murdered anyone in over twelve hours. Do you know how rusty an assassin can get in that time? First, I must take a shower. Surely this lab rat has some sort of hose or bucket and pulley system to wash herself?”Antonia begins sizing up the space, trying to squint a bathroom into existence. 

“I believe her bathroom is right next the front door. You must have accidentally passed in when you were getting yourself worked up into this bloodlust.” Magda suddenly feels completely at ease. Yes, she could easily blind and frankly obliterate this toned and blonde killing machine. Doesn’t matter though, because Magda realizes that she has this whole ordeal in her pocket and it’s only a matter of Antonia getting into that shower. Magda goes to raise her fist in conquest but then meets resistance. Antonia’s silent rope snakes! They are giving Magda the world’s most cold blooded group hug. Magda knows she must submit to the plan. She grimaces feeling the ridges of her teeth and wait to unleash her light show. 

////

Antonia has been in the shower for over and hour and half. Magda is only now starting to bruise because the rope snakes have grown lethargic and weak ever since the water started. The rope snakes are clinging on to Magda out of obligation and lethargy. The water stops and a shrill elongated sigh is heard from the bathroom. Antonia, the Daycrawler, emerges from heavy plump clouds of perfumed steam. Magda thinks she can detect a hint of Ceylon Cinnamon and gun smoke, but you can never tell with Monique and her smells. Antonia is a lot drier than you would expect for someone who has ostensibly been bathing for the past two hours and she is wearing an oversized clumsy kimono with her hair wrapped up in a towel. 

“Alright, where is she?” Antonia asks in a voice that is almost saccharine and faint. 

“She’s clearly not here. Let’s revisit the fact that you were going to behead me as a house warming gift. How about instead you rob me of one of my kidneys? They are oozing with glow-stick fluid, but they never stop glowing! Please don’t kill me!” Magda says fully aware that Antonia is not going to kill, at least not while she’s so fresh out of the shower. 

“That’s what I need to talk to her about. I suddenly no longer have my urge to kill! Not you, you, or anyone else ever again!”says Antonia breathless like she is hearing her voice for the first time.

“I thought you were killing out of profession?”

Antonia crouches down and is almost blushing as she asks, “Why are you still on the floor like that? Can’t you not fry us up some rope snake snacks? Or wait! Are you like me and need the sunlight to fully operate?” Antonia begins opening up every window and even trying to create new windows in Monique’s house to let the light in. 

“Fine! I’ll do it! You made me do it!” Magda unleashes her light that sets off as a retina unfriendly supernova. The light charged specifically around her arms were even still lit up and racing to be shot off as blades of light into the nearest surface. 

“See? That’s wasn’t so bad! Why do you get so…so conservative about using your light whenever you’re around me?”

“I don’t want to end up blinding or hurting anyone.” Magda says still on the ground facing onto Monique’s steel plated sterile floors. 

“Even someone who was moments ago trying to kill your friend and you for the thrill of murder?”

“Your an easy target Daycrawler,” Magda gathers herself back up into a standing stance,” You are exactly the type that would change your mind if given half a chance. I still feel like you could plunge your famous ribbon blade into my personal generator… ” Magda trails off realizing that Antonia is no longer listening to her. She is still running her reformed(?) killer’s hands through her honey flaxen unwieldy tower of hair that only a towering murderess could support. 

“That shampoo it’s, it’s going to help a lot of people. I’m waiting to see the catch. Like with her cancer-free candy cigarettes they’re too good to be true, right?”Antonia takes in another long inhalation of her own hair and takes one lock and flecks her tongue only at the tip of the follicle. The one blank wall inside Monique’s apartment spins around revealing Monique on the other side who steps up and says without missing a beat:

“They’re called Pixie Stix!” Monique fully emerges from her illusion wall hiding the hint of a laboratory.  She lights up a Pixie stick of her own which begins flooding the spartan space. Who needs furniture when you bask in a smell this sweet? Magda lets her guard down and lights up the rest of the space turning the formerly drab and empty hovel into a chic and spacious boutique. “Lighting!” Continues Monique, “With the right lights and an overwhelming pungent odor reveals the path to an enveloping inner peace. No matter how small or unfashionable your home or hovel happens to be there could possibly be an outlet for a chosen few people that the three of us could use to build our own society or something?” Monique turns on music by malodorous mall core cyborg nu metal pop band called Neon Betty Degenerates. Antonia goes over to Monique and gently forces Monique’s bangled and gloved clammy hand into a boisterous hand shake. A Kashmir blossom shaped pin attached to Monique’s vegan leather newsboy cap opens up and contracts. The blossom is spraying out a mist invisible to the human eyes, directed into Antonia’s face. Antonia then immediately releases Monique and she turns away from the gangly scientist, she unravels the towel from her hair and starts sprinting outside of Monique’s house. Antonia begins climbing up the lone ancient hundreds of feet tall redwood tree watching over Monique’s property. Antonia climbs up to the tree in record time, she is nothing but a blur of momentum and rustling branches. Antonia, the Daycrawler, jumps out into the sky with the grace of a flying squirrel leaving her nest, and she’s reached enough height so that she can use the heel of her shoe to write, “I’m sorry! <3 I will work on respecting your personal space” in a cloud-based font. 

Magda turns to Monique who has completely flipped open her furtive laboratory, revealing the glow of scent analysis technology calling out to Magda begging her to crank up the wattage. Before submerging back into her lab, Monique turns to Magda and tells her, “Antonia is seemingly the only person my Perfumed Personality is working on. Do you think that will be enough?” Monique directs this question more to the ether than to anyone in particular. 

“Looks like it’s really working on her though. Oh right, before you leave. I am going through this really tough crush on someone and was hoping that you’d have some-“ Magda stops talking. Monique enters her lab leaving Magda behind in the empty kitchen and the lingering vapors of the ethical strawberry and lavender pacifist shampoo. Magda knows that she probably won’t see Monique emerge back out from her work for another two weeks at the latest. Magda shivers and steps outside and all of her pent up light energy continues bursting forth from her navel, banners of light shooting from her forehead, spotlights dancing out of each of her fingertips. Magda’s light even causes the clouds that Antonia used as calligraphy to break into a sweat. The extreme daylight and the small patch of rain causes a family of foxes to burst forth from out of the ground and carry on a quick and sweet wedding. Magda climbs on top of a dune and watches the wedding ceremony from afar. She remembers Hillary and groans, a sticky and somber sound. Magda has her revery broken by the sound of a voice calling from below the dune.

“cOuld yOu pleeze take Our picha, lamp lady? Da lurvely cOupa wOuld be sO grateful!!” The source of the voice is coming from an approaching silver fox who has a slight wobble in his gait. Magda looks at the silver fox further and notices that he also has two plastic and springy legs. Magda not wanting to seem judgmental, sighs and takes the fox’s hefty Kodiak bridge cam and without even taking time to focus the lens takes the picture. The newly wedded couple and the silver fox open up the camera’s finder and look at the results and start panting in approval. They have never seen themselves look so well lit before. 

“Daddy! You must pay this kind lady Beacon mucho ancient coins! I’ve never looked this good!” Magda smiles and shakes her head and puts her hands into her pockets, leaving the foxes behind. She readjusts her trench coat and puts on a large wide-brimmed blackout hat she keeps in a box shaped fanny pack. Even while wearing her light suppression accessories each and every passing streetlamp emits a powerful sphere of light that dims with each of Magda’s passing step. Most of the houses in Magda’s neighborhood are heavily tranquilized and sleeping in deprivation tanks so the dramatic light fluctuations don’t bother most. One overhead apartment pulls back its drapes and an angry shirtless and chiseled man has taken out a mirror and trying to reflect the light back down at the street. The power of the light’s heat creates another pothole into the road, which causes the man to start swearing and yelling incoherently. Magda kneels down onto the empty sidewalk and rubs her palms together causing the street lights to dim back down to their normal level. Magda’s face looks pale and she begins moving at a slower pace.

“Damn…I’m so close. Being mindful of so many people really sucks. I think I’m going to lie down in this pile of moss and maybe I’ll wake up back in my bed.” Magda hums a lullaby to herself and begins folding herself into a ball of fading light. Magda is blacking out.

///

She opens up her eyes as soon as she registers motion. Magda is being carried in somebody’s arms! Magda almost cranks up her internal light furnace but then she smells the tangy coconut cologne of Elroy. 

“What did I tell you about picking up tramps?” Asks Magda with a yawn. “Put me down you goon!” Elroy immediately does so and gives Magda her space.

“Of course, I’m sorry Magda. I was out scouting shoot locations for a new headshot this week and saw your abandoned space craft on the side of road. Knowing you as well as I do I had a feeling that you were probably enjoying one of your unnecessary sojourns. Thankfully you left it in one of the bougiest possible neighborhoods so I think you’ll be fine with picking it up tomorrow. I’ll leave you be. Clearly you are wanting some time alone.” Elroy brushes off a twig out of Magda’s hair and starts walking back into his own shabbier Electric Hover Desert Rabbit.  

“Any luck with your lamp search?”asks Magda causing Elroy to stop in his tracks and turn around revealing an excitable grin.

“I found this Ponce de Leon Torchier that promises to age and de-age me based on what kind of bulb I put into it. There’s  this audition for a movie about a man breastfeeding his own child I got. The role comprises of both the child and the father, it’s a student film but the kid directing is supposed to have a real stash of connections.” Chatters Elroy, clearly trying to regain a sense of joviality between him and Magda. 

“I have actually never really bothered playing with light in that way before. How are you so good at online shopping? And here I was about to actually consider giving you a droplet of my very own light” sneers Magda as she enters through the lamp shaded gate of her parent’s compound. 

“What?! Really! Wait Magda I’ll gladly take some of your light off of your hands! Come on, come back!” Magda leaves Elroy behind once again and a roving street sweeper pushes him up the current of streaming sidewalk leading deeper into the Energy District. He calls out to Magda yelling her name as he’s being street swept away. Magda turns copper green with regret with even toying around with the idea of sharing any amount of light. Especially with a total goon like Elroy! The family leopard spotted moth, Sapphire, comes whooshing up to Magda giving her a silky kiss. Magda grins and brushes the silk away from her face and picks up a floating torch, lights it with her finger and tosses it as far as she can throw, which due to the pent up hormonal surging emotional cycle Hillary has gotten Mega into, turns out to be quite far. Sapphire flap flap flaps her wings into a column of speed and chases after the floating torch. The outside ladder leading to her room has been rolled up. 

“Because of course!” Sighs Magda as she slips off her cycling light up shoes, the tongue of her shoes light up with a balloon showcasing the amount of miles Magda has walked from Monique’s house, nearly fourteen, if only Elroy hadn’t gotten in the way. Inside both of her parents are stationary as always. Wires running from the back of both of their heads so that when they glance over at the door in unison you can see the pulses of light traveling at the same speed from both of their skulls. Magda parents disgust her and she really tries getting up stairs into her room as fast as possible. 

“Magpie! Get your cute little grown ass over here and tell me about this nice young man you’re considering giving up your light to!”

“Journey,” Magda says addressing her mom by her proper name which causes her mom to feign a twinge,”Why must you two always insist on watching the security feed whenever I am coming home. Every. Single. Time. Do you two expect me to be still be living here until either one of you finally burn out? Just so you can always have a little show of someone else’s lives to watch? You’re almost as much as a goon as that ‘boy’ you are referring to. You know him already, that’s Elroy, we’re just friends.”

“See Enterprise? What did I say?” Journey says peering directly into her husband Enterprise’s vacant light producing sockets. 

“Aw dawlin looks like I owe you thirty pulses! I knew I should have betted on our Magpie giving her light away to some respectable enterprising lesbian. You’re donating your light to science right Magpie? That’s why you left today?”

“I am not donating my light to anyone! I am not anyone’s generator ready to be milked and sapped away for all of my worth.”

“Magda you know your light is strong enough that you could be a really successful crime fighter, or you could even be just another lamp builder like your lil brother and sister.” Coos Magda’s father, Enterprise.

“Or, she can be nothing too! Fine by me! Keep on going missy, I can see how much you are burning to get back into your precious room. All I ask is that at some point tonight please help your siblings make some kind of dinner. Your dad and I are going to be all tied up for the rest of the night running double concurrent shifts. Those damn strikers! We don’t need em! Ow ow ugh I’ve got to be quiet and focus.” Journey rubs her temple which emits a spark. 

“Relax my love. This is just a rough patch. Once there is a serum manufactured we’ll be able to import more workers and we can recharge for the next decade. Maybe even more.” Enterprise says this to Journey and they hold each other’s hands not even minding that they are becoming entangled within one another’s connecting wires. Magda hears the quiet scrape scraping of her younger brother and sister’s lamp and neon shop that takes up most of the second floor. Magda ascends up one more floor and reaches her bedroom at the end of a hallway adorned with family portraits. Mainly of her siblings Gidget and Chester selling lamps around the world. See Gidget and Chester in Bali with a lamp made from resurrected coral reefs. There’s a picture of Gidget, Chester and both of her parents soft shoeing on the grave of Thomas Edison. See Gidget defile the Tesla’s tomb. Chester burning an effigy of Musk. There’s one picture of Magda and Sapphire, Magda is only visible as a beam of light. Magda opens up her bedroom and finds Antonia, the Daycrawler waiting for her, suspending herself from the ceiling. Rotating around like a monk’s slimy finger circling around the lip of a singing wine bowl. 

“Hiya there Miss Shiney! I brought you a present!” Antonia says this in her persistently chippier and bubblier voice that has not  subsided since taking her shower with Monique’s personality shifting scented shampoo. Monique raises her right eyelid causing  one of her dimmest overhead lights to come on. The light reveals reveals the sight of a  tied up woman sporting a bouncy pompadour sprawling out across Magda’s bed. Soy Hands Flannigan! 

“What am I supposed to do with an assassin? All I want to do is curl up and shop. God I sound pathetic.” Magda says attempting to hide the  anxiety spiking through the roof of her dome  coursing down to her toes. 

“She knows how you can find Hillary!”

That’s all it took. All Magda needed to hear was her name. The utterance of Magda’s one and only Hillary causes each and every one of Magda’s three hundred and eighty five lights adorning her bedroom to flare out bright beams of all encompassing light. The kind of light that only glows for a woman once thought lost and dead to the world soon to be rediscovered. Maybe, thinks Magda, having a reformed violent and dangerous assassin as a companion wouldn’t be so bad after all.