#Wheat Rust Control

[umangharyana]

Yellow Rust, Wheat Disease : कांगड़ा में पीला रतुआ से गेहूं फसल को बचाने के लिए कृषि विभाग ने क्या कदम उठाए?

कांगड़ा जिले के किसानों के लिए एक ���तरनाक खतरा उत्पन्न हो गया है। पीला रतुआ, गेहूं की फसल को बर्बाद करने वाला एक खतरनाक रोग, ने किसानों की चिंता बढ़ा दी है। लेकिन कृषि विभाग इस संकट से निपटने के लिए पूरी ताकत से जुटा हुआ है। कृषि विकास खंड परागपुर में कृषि विभाग की टीम ने गेहूं की फसल का निरीक्षण किया और किसानों को इस खतरनाक रोग से बचने के लिए जागरूक किया। कृषि अधिकारियों ने इस रोग के लक्षणों को…

[alcoraplant]

AHDB fungicide data reveal how new products performed

The AHDB’s fungicide performance trials confirm that the new SHDI fungicide from Syngenta is a valuable addition for septoria control. Approved in April 2024, Miravis Plus also offers a step up in the control of ramularia in barley and fusarium head blight in wheat. However, AHDB data also confirm that the new addition is less effective on brown rust, with the best performance in the 2024 trial…

[farmfuturist]

A Complete Overview of Hexaconazole: Uses, Safety, and Efficacy

Protecting crops from fungal diseases is essential for maintaining high yields, ensuring quality produce, and sustaining farmer livelihoods. Hexaconazole, a systemic fungicide from the triazole group, has proven to be a valuable tool in combating many fungal pathogens. With its broad-spectrum efficacy, long-lasting protection, and targeted action, Hexaconazole has become a trusted ally for farmers across various crops. This overview explores Hexaconazole’s uses, safety profile, and effectiveness in crop protection.

What is Hexaconazole?

Hexaconazole is a systemic fungicide that inhibits the biosynthesis of ergosterol, a critical component of fungal cell membranes. By disrupting ergosterol production, hexaconazole weakens and kills fungal cells, preventing infections from developing or spreading. Once absorbed by the plant, it moves through the xylem, providing internal protection to both treated and new growth.

Farmers who purchase Hexaconazole 5% SC benefit from its broad-spectrum action, which reduces the need for multiple fungicides and offers consistent disease control throughout the crop cycle.

Uses of Hexaconazole in Agriculture

Hexaconazole is widely used to manage fungal diseases in various crops, including cereals, fruits, vegetables, and ornamental plants. Its effectiveness against various pathogens makes it a versatile tool for disease management.

Common Applications

Cereal Crops: Hexaconazole protects cereal crops such as wheat, barley, and rice from diseases like rust, leaf spot, and sheath blight. If left untreated, these diseases can cause significant yield losses.

Fruits and Vegetables: Hexaconazole effectively controls powdery mildew, leaf spot, and blight in fruits and vegetables, maintaining healthy foliage and improving crop quality.

Ornamental Plants: Fungal diseases in ornamental plants can reduce their aesthetic value. Hexaconazole’s systemic action helps maintain the health and appearance of flowers and shrubs.

Benefits in Crop Protection

Systemic Protection: Hexaconazole is absorbed by the plant and moves throughout its tissues, providing comprehensive protection against fungal infections.

Long-Lasting Efficacy: Its residual activity ensures prolonged disease control, reducing the need for frequent applications.

Broad-Spectrum Control: Effective against multiple fungal pathogens, Hexaconazole simplifies disease management by addressing a wide range of threats with a single product.

How Hexaconazole Works

Hexaconazole targets the enzyme sterol 14α-demethylase, which is involved in the production of ergosterol, a key component of fungal cell membranes. By inhibiting this enzyme, hexaconazole disrupts cell membrane formation, weakening the fungal pathogen and preventing its growth and reproduction.

Systemic Movement

Once applied, Hexaconazole moves through the plant’s xylem, protecting treated and new growth. This systemic action provides internal protection, making it more effective than contact fungicides that remain only on the plant's surface.

“Effective protection begins within—the best defenses are those you can’t see.”

Safety Profile of Hexaconazole

While Hexaconazole offers significant benefits in disease management, it is essential to use it responsibly to ensure the safety of humans, animals, and the environment. Regulatory authorities have evaluated its safety profile, and adherence to guidelines minimizes potential risks.

Human Health Considerations

When used according to recommended guidelines, hexaconazole has a low acute toxicity profile. Proper handling and adherence to safety protocols are essential for minimizing exposure risks.

PPE Requirements: When handling and applying Hexaconazole, users should wear personal protective equipment (PPE), including gloves, masks, and protective clothing.

Residue Levels in Food: Residue levels of Hexaconazole in treated crops are monitored to ensure they remain within safe limits established by regulatory authorities.

Environmental Impact

Hexaconazole’s environmental impact depends on its application practices. Proper use minimizes risks to non-target organisms and ecosystems.

Soil and Water Persistence: Hexaconazole is moderately persistent in soil and breaks down over time through microbial activity. When used as directed, it has a low potential for leaching into groundwater.

Impact on Non-Target Organisms: When applied correctly, hexaconazole poses minimal risk to most non-target organisms, such as beneficial insects. However, care should be taken to prevent drift and runoff.

Maximizing the Efficacy of Hexaconazole

Proper application techniques and adherence to guidelines are critical to achieving the best results with hexaconazole. This ensures effective disease control while minimizing potential risks.

Application Timing and Technique

Hexaconazole should be applied at the first sign of disease or as a preventive measure during high-risk periods.

Correct Dilution: Follow the manufacturer’s recommended dilution rates for optimal effectiveness.

Even Coverage: Use high-quality sprayers to achieve even coverage across all plant surfaces, including the undersides of leaves where fungal spores often reside.

Integration with Crop Management Practices

Hexaconazole can be integrated into broader crop management strategies to enhance its effectiveness and promote sustainable disease control.

Crop Rotation: Rotating crops reduces disease pressure and complements the effects of Hexaconazole.

Integrated Pest Management (IPM): Combining Hexaconazole with cultural, biological, and mechanical control measures ensures comprehensive and environmentally friendly disease management.

Addressing Fungicide Resistance

Fungal resistance to fungicides is a challenge in modern agriculture. To prevent resistance development and maintain the efficacy of Hexaconazole, it should be rotated with other fungicides with different modes of action.

Resistance Management Strategies

Alternate Fungicides: Use fungicides with varied mechanisms to prevent resistance buildup.

Integrated Solutions: Combine chemical treatments with non-chemical practices to reduce disease pressure.

Real-World Impact of Hexaconazole

Farmers around the world have experienced significant improvements in crop health, yield, and profitability by using Hexaconazole. Its ability to control major fungal threats ensures consistent productivity and quality, making it an essential part of modern agricultural practices.

Hexaconazole is a testament to targeted fungicide technology's power in modern crop protection. Offering practical, long-lasting control against a wide range of fungal pathogens empowers farmers to safeguard their crops, enhance yields, and maintain sustainable agricultural systems. Hexaconazole provides a pathway to healthier, more productive crops and a resilient agricultural future through responsible use and adherence to safety guidelines.

[best-aata-chakki]

Best Commercial Atta Chakki Machine in India for fresh and pure atta | Sonar Appliances

In the bustling food industry, maintaining the quality of ingredients is paramount, and atta (flour) is no exception. With a surge in health consciousness among consumers, the demand for fresh and pure atta is at an all-time high. For businesses looking to offer Top-Quality Flour, investing in a reliable Commercial Atta Chakki Machine is essential. One brand that stands out in this domain is Sonar Appliances, known for its robust and efficient grinding machines. Here’s a look at the best commercial atta chakki machines offered by Sonar Appliances.

7.5 HP 2 In 1 SS Grinding Machine

The 7.5 HP 2 In 1 SS Grinding Machine From Sonar Appliances is designed for high production needs. Its powerful motor can handle large quantities of grain with ease, making it ideal for commercial settings such as grocery stores, restaurants, and flour mills.

Key Features:

High Efficiency: With a grinding capacity of up to 100 kg/hour, this machine ensures quick and efficient processing.

Stainless Steel Construction: Built with high-quality stainless steel, the machine guarantees hygiene and durability, resistant to corrosion and rust.

Versatile Grinding: The 2 in 1 feature allows users to grind multiple types of grains, including wheat, maize, and pulses, making it a versatile addition to any kitchen.

Ease of Use: Equipped with user-friendly controls, it allows for easy adjustment of grinding coarseness to meet specific requirements.

Low Maintenance: This machine is designed for easy cleaning and low maintenance, ensuring that you can focus on your business rather than upkeep.

5 HP 2 In 1 SS Grinding Machine

For businesses with moderate grinding needs, the 5 HP 2 In 1 SS Grinding Machine is an excellent choice. It perfectly balances efficiency and power, making it suitable for small to medium-sized enterprises.

Key Features:

Moderate Grinding Capacity: Capable of grinding around 100 kg of grains per hour, it meets the demands of businesses that require steady production.

Durable Design: Like its 7.5 HP counterpart, this machine boasts a robust stainless steel construction for longevity and cleanliness.

Multi-Functionality: Grind various grains conveniently, allowing businesses to cater to diverse customer requirements.

Compact Size: Its compact design makes it easy to accommodate in smaller workspaces without sacrificing performance.

Simple Operation: Designed for straightforward operation, users can quickly learn how to use the machine efficiently.

4 HP 2 In 1 SS Grinding Machine

The 4 HP 2 In 1 SS Grinding Machine is perfect for small local businesses, bakeries, and home-based enterprises. Though compact, it delivers remarkable performance without compromising on quality.

Key Features:

Efficient Grinding: This machine can grind an impressive 100 kg of grains per hour, making it ideal for small-scale operations.

Built to Last: Its stainless steel body not only ensures health standards but also provides a long lifespan.

User-Friendly: This model features easy-to-use settings, making it accessible even for first-time users.

Versatile Applications: Ideal for multiple grains, this machine supports various recipes, enhancing product offerings.

Space-Saving Design: Its smaller footprint ensures that it fits comfortably in tight spaces, making it a great addition to any kitchen.

Conclusion

Choosing the right Atta Chakki Machine is crucial for businesses aiming to provide their customers with fresh and pure atta. Sonar Appliances offers a range of reliable options, including the 7.5 HP, 5 HP, and 4 HP 2 In 1 SS Grinding Machines. Each model has been designed with quality, durability, and efficiency in mind, catering to different production needs. By investing in one of these Commercial Atta Chakki Machines, you can enhance your product quality, meet customer demands, and drive your business success. For those seeking a reliable partner in their journey towards culinary excellence, Sonar Appliances stands out as an advantageous choice.

[peptechbioscience]

Get Propiconazole 10.7% + Tricyclazole 34.2% SE at Peptech Bioscience Ltd

Propiconazole 10.7% + Tricyclazole 34.2% SE blend delivers a synergistic impact, providing dual protection against a wide range of fungal diseases. It is designed for both preventive and curative control, effectively managing issues like blast, sheath blight, leaf spot, rust, and more. This formulation is suitable for application in crops such as rice, wheat, barley, and other vulnerable plants.

[cossouq-india]

The Best Eyebrow Enhancers For Your Face Shape

When we meet and greet a person, we notice their eyes at first glance. Thus, leaving a charming and lasting impression in someone’s memory box becomes quite necessary. What helps you to ace a natural and youthful look are the best eyebrow products.

Catch the information regarding what brow enhancers you need to drop into your beauty kit, along with the shape that suits you the best.

Why Do You Need to Have a Wow-Like Brow?

When eyebrows are done right, your entire appearance drifts, isn’t it? Well-groomed eyebrows make you look more polished, youthful, and beautiful. It accentuates your facial features and gives you a symmetrical shape.

Get ready, the clock is ticking! Unlock the secret to enhance your natural beauty by shaping and drenching it with required beauty products.

How to Choose the Best Eyebrow Shape for Your Face

Have you ever scratched your head, pondering over what shape suits my eyebrows? Fret not! You are not alone in this race.

Read on and know the best eyebrow shape that goes well with your face.

The Shape of the Face :

Heart-Shaped

Oblong Faces

Oval-Shaped Faces

Diamond-Shaped Faces

Types of the Eyebrows :

Soft arch, thicker and fuller eyebrows.

Straighter brow with soft edges.

Full natural brow with a soft arch.

A curved brow with an angled arch

The Best Eyebrow Enhancers Products

We know you were sincerely waiting to check out the products. So dive deep and give a green signal to them, and later thanks us for amazing suggestions.

Wet N Wild Ultimate Retractable Pencil

It’s time to define your brows with ease using Wet N Wild Retractable Pencil. It sharpens the edges of the brows and creates strokes replicating the natural hair. Pick the pencil and leave no stone unturned to level up your brow game.

Benefits:

Doesn’t smudge, as it’s made of rub-resistant pigments.

Made of high-intensity hues.

Easy to hold.

Inglot Amc Brow Liner Gel

Turn your eyebrows thick. Use Inglot Amc Brow Liner Gel and provide a distinct contour. Enriched with the goodness of nourishing, Ceramides gives a defined and fuller look. Sharpen and smoothen your brow and push the glow!

Benefits:

Provides full coverage.

Gives a matte finish.

Highly pigmented.

Suitable for skin types.

Passion Indulge Passion Eye Lash Brow Serum

Perfect brows are made easy with Passion Indulge Eyelash Serum. It is enriched with the goodness of Ylang ylang oil, Argan oil, & Wheat germ oil. The serum leads to increased density of the lashes and brows. It even gives the touch of gentle nourishment to them.

Benefits:

Boosts the growth of eyebrows and eyelashes.

Make your eyebrows thick.

Promotes the re-growth of eyebrows and eyelashes.

Enhances eyebrow definition.

Vegan and cruelty-free.

Majestique 3pcs Eyebrow Razor Shaper & Trimmer

Sculpt your dream brows using Majestique’s eyebrow shaper trimmer. It comes with a protective cap over the blade, so forget about getting cuts. Anti-slip grip handle will allow your hand to move gently on your brows. It is light in weight and suitable for precise trimming.

Benefits:

The stainless steel blade is embedded in ABS resin, suitable for getting the perfect finish.

The razor does not rust easily.

Comes with a non-slip grip.

Safe and portable.

Iris Cosmetics Luminous Hd Lip Brush & Eyebrow Brush

Flip the card and take the brow game in your control! Use an Iris brush and give a finishing touch to your look. Along with enhancing the charm of your brow, it even turns your lips beautiful. Boosts confidence and spreads the glow.

Benefits:

Vegan and cruelty-free.

Gives you a perfect finish.

Bella Vita Organic Growbrow — Brow & Lash Oil

We have an ultimate solution to thicken your brows. Use Bella Vita organic grow brow oiland get the perfect arch every time. Sprinkled with the goodness of natural ingredients like Castor oil, Onion oil, and Amla oil, it strengthens and adds shine to your brows and lashes.

Benefits:

Volumize, strengthen, and nourishes your brows.

Revives brow hair health.

Frequently Asked Questions

Which Are More Attractive Thick or Thin Eyebrows?

There is no one-size-fits-all answer to this question, as personal preferences and cultural trends vary widely. However, in recent years, thick eyebrows have become more popular and are often considered more attractive than thin eyebrows.

Thick eyebrows tend to look more natural and youthful, while thin eyebrows can appear harsh or over-plucked.

What Are the Best Eyebrow Pencils in the Market?

Here are some of the best eyebrow pencils you can rely on;

Coloressence Expert Eye Brow Pencil.

Star Struck by Sunny Leone Brow Pencil.

Maybelline New York’s Define & Blend Brow Pencil Brown.

Wet n Wild Ultimate brow retractable pencil.

XX Revolution Xxfine Micro Brow Pencil Deep Black.

The Bottom Line

Steal the show and get the brows that turn the heads! Always keep a serum, gel, Eyebrow pencil, and razor while grooming your eyebrows to achieve a defined look.

You can even turn your eyebrows more stunning by following the guide to choose the eyebrows according to your face.

Visit Cossouq.com and get the best Eye Brow Enhancers Online.

[denverfencecompany]

Benefits of Installing Steel Ornamental Fencing

Once you’ve decided to fence in your yard or business property, you have a lot of choices. Here in the Denver area, one of the most popular choices is ornamental steel fencing. It has beauty and elegance, and a lot of other things going for it that make it a great choice for residential and commercial applications alike.

Let’s take a look at the top benefits of steel ornamental fencing:

Increased Security

Any time you put up a fence around the perimeter of your property, you’re increasing security. Steel ornamental fencing panels come in a more decorative height of 3’, but are also available in 4’, 5’, and 6’ fence heights. In addition, an ornamental steel fence is compatible with automatic security gates and access control systems.

This makes a taller fence with pointed pickets and a security gate a good deterrent for a would-be trespasser.

Fast and Flexible Installation

Installing steel ornamental fence can be installed relatively quickly due to the prefabricated fence panels. This type of fence is also ideal for installation on a slope, because it’s available with rackable steel fence panels that adjust to the slope of your property.

Rackable fence panels are specifically designed and manufactured to make matching a slope much easier. Thepickets attach to the rails of the fence using pivots that allow the pickets and rails to adjust to any angle. We anchor the fence posts and then measure and mark the distance from the mounts to the ground just like we would on level ground. Then we hold one end of the panel to these marks on the post with clamps and line up the rails with the marks on the next fence post. The rail then adjusts to meet the angle, and we move on to the next step.

This may sound involved, but it is still much faster than putting together a fence picket by picket.

Durability

Made with welded steel, this type of ornamental fencing is stronger than its aluminum counterpart, and cannot easily be cut through like chain link can. The powder coated finish prohibits the development of rust, which means it can stand up to our Colorado winters without a problem. And steel fence will never be subject to rotting or splintering like wood fence can be.

Low Maintenance

Steel ornamental fencing is incredibly low maintenance, and will look good year after year with little to no effort from you. Contrast that to a wood fence which may need to be stained or painted. And steel fence will also not warp like wood can. The most you might need to do is use some touch-up spray paint if the fence gets scratched or nicked.

Increases Curb Appeal

Curb appeal is a point of pride, but can also help you sell your home or attract new tenants to your property. Steel ornamental fencing enhances curb appeal, by creating an elegant and attractive frame through which to see the rest of your property.

Wide Range of Styles

Ornamental steel fence also comes in a wide range of styles. Options include:

·         Fence height

·         Picket spacing

·         2-4 bottom and top rails

·         Picket bottom

·         Rail flush bottom

·         Puppy pickets

·         Fence post styles

·         Post caps

·         Finials

·         Arched gates

·         Straight gates

·         And much more

We install steel ornamental fencing from a number of manufacturers and can provide you with catalogs or websites to help you make your choices.      

Hire the Local Fence Installers You Can Trust to Get the Job Done Right

The team here at Denver Fence Company have been building and mending fences since 1977. We are experienced local fence installers serving homeowners and commercial businesses throughout the Denver metro area, including Arvada, Aurora, Bennett, Boulder, Brighton, Broomfield, Castle Rock, Castle Pines, Centennial, Commerce City, Conifer, Denver, Elizabeth, Englewood, Golden, Greenwood Village, Highlands Ranch, Kiowa, Lafayette, Lakewood, Littleton, Lone Tree, Longmont, Louisville, Monument, Northglenn, Parker, Strasburg, Superior, Thornton, Westminster, Wheat Ridge, Douglas County, Elbert County, and all parts of the Front Range.

[crystaldahlias]

The Carriage (Chapter II of Curse of Blood)

Jonah only cared about his plants and his work.

When his boss sends him to a remote village to investigate a string of disappearances, he finds himself within the castle that looms over the village and with hosts that seem too odd to be of this world.

The closer he gets to discovering the truth, the more he wishes he’d never left home in the first place.

He might not get out of this alive.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34783219/chapters/90975223

TW: This fic will contain future violence, blood, vampires, and is generally darker and more horror-eque.

Chapter 1

=============================================================

Just an explanation beforehand:

Yes, I am starting a Vampire AU story because I cannot control myself. Also, a reminder that this about the characters and not real life people.

Also

Jonah = Fundy

You’ll understand soon.

“You must hate this weather, huh?”

He glanced down at Yogurt, pretending that one of the leaves moved in some sort of nod.

Jonah shook his head, placing the plant beside him on the rusting metal bench. He eyed the abandoned station, throat clogging at the thought of being stuck here overnight. When he’d given his train ticket to the conductor, the man had given him a perplexed look, even going so far as to ask why he wanted to be dropped off at the last station. Jonah had shown him his work I.D., the golden letters that spelled out ‘Las Nevadas Times’ were enough to let the conductor know why. He’d stared out the windows for the rest of the train ride, taking in the slow transition from tall city skyscrapers to large oak trees. The large oak trees had then given way to large rolling fields of wheat and corn. The fields then turned into cold snow, the windows turning white with frost.

When he’d gotten to the last station, he had had half the mind to go back inside the train.

The station was in a state of disrepair, the wooden platform caked with snow and ice. Some pieces of wood had rotted off, leaving small dark chasms in their wake. Jonah had been careful with his steps, gripping his luggage, almost like the ground would give way beneath their weight.

The train had left without him. The doors had seemed to take a while to close, but as Jonah stayed where he was, they finally slid close and the train turned to leave him at the empty station.

At least he wasn’t alone. He had Yogurt.

“You don’t think it’s a scam, do you?” He murmured underneath his breath, white smoke flitting past his lips. Jonah shivered, pulling his scarf closer to his neck. Quackity had winced when they’d said goodbye at the station, his boss seeing him off. Jonah hadn’t bothered to bring any warm clothing with him, thinking that his black leather jacket would be enough to ward the cold. That was a big mistake. He wrapped his arms around himself, teeth chattering, the noise echoing in his ears. He glanced over at Yogurt, worried that his little plant wouldn’t survive this harsh cold. Maybe he should have left Yogurt at home… “Sorry, little guy. You shouldn’t be out here.”

Jonah sighed, pulling his knees closer to his chest. He gently held the potted plant in his hands, pressing it close to his chest as though he could share his body heat with it. He must look ridiculous now. He groaned, leaning his head against the back of the bench. The roof of the station must have rotted away, giving him an excellent view of the mountains. They were as treacherous as he’d been told, jagged black rocks slicing through the white veils of fog and snow. Faintly, he could see the outline of a castle spire across the gray sky, disappearing quickly behind the mists. The village must be close to it. An excitement bubbled in his chest, fingers trembling, but not from the cold. He had wanted to see a castle before. He silently thanked Quackity in his head, happy to know that this assignment had its perks. Maybe he could even enter the castle… 

The sharp whinny of horses broke through his thoughts. He jumped from his seat, eyes narrowing towards the only opening he could see that led into the mountain. A dark silhouette was emerging from the corner, darting quickly past the rocks and trees. The sound of jangling metal reached his ears, accompanied by the huff of two horses that seemed to know where they were going. He could see that someone was holding onto the reins, a tall figure who wore a red cloak that hid their face. Jonah swallowed down his fear. Maybe this was his transportation?

“What do you think, Yogurt? Think we’ll get out of this alive?”

The plant didn’t answer him. Jonah looked up, watching the carriage grow closer until it was at the bottom of the wooden platform, hooves banging against the metal railway. He wrinkled his nose, staring down at the nearly gothic carriage ride, if it weren’t for traces of gold and blue, he would have assumed that his host had a penchant for all things dark and mysterious. He gripped the handle of his luggage, taking a deep breath before ascending the steps. He clutched Yogurt’s pot, carefully stepping on the creaking stairs, worried that they’d snap once he fully stepped on them. The process was slow. He wanted to take his time, he didn’t want to accidentally drop his luggage, or worse, Yogurt. Much to his surprise, “Hey! I don’t have fucking time to wait here!”

He startled, foot nearly slipping against a patch of ice. He looked over at the coachman, sky blue eyes meeting his own. The coachman had short blonde hair, and his face was twisted in irritation. He quickly walked down the stairs, his luggage banging against the wooden steps behind him.

Jonah moved towards the carriage, standing by the door but hesitating to open it. The window was blocked off by a thick velvet curtain, and from the small glimpses he could see each time the curtains billowed from the wind, the inside looked as dark as the black paint of the carriage. He gave the coachman a narrowed look. He looked younger than Jonah would have expected. After a few seconds, Jonah came to the conclusion that the coachman was actually a teenager. If it weren’t for the simple garb that he wore, Jonah would have worried about the red velvet cloak that the coachman was wearing. It looked expensive, probably something he couldn’t afford no matter how much he earned from writing articles everyday. The teenager sneered at him, gesturing to the carriage with a wave of his hand. “You open the door, then you enter it. Simple.”

“I know how carriages work.” He snapped back, regretting it when a dark look crossed the teenager’s eyes. The air felt heavier, the previous silence distorting until he was sure that his ears were ringing. He blinked, but it was the same as it had been before. The coachman was glaring down at him, still gesturing towards the carriage. Jonah took a deep breath, before heading inside, carrying his luggage in before he could enter. As soon as he was inside the space, he closed the door, the latch clicking into place. He settled on the back of the carriage, his luggage by his feet. There was a small window that would allow him to see the coachman, but no matter how hard he tried to open it, it wouldn’t budge. He heard the teenager snicker, hearing him struggle with the window. Jonah chose not to comment. He grumbled, settling into his seat just as he felt the world move around him. The horses’ gave out a loud neigh, and then they were off.

Jonah clutched the sides of the carriage, shrieking as his head nearly hit the back of the chair. This time, the teenager let out a sharp laugh, loud and piercing. He had wanted to scream for him to slow down, but from their brief conversation, he knew he’d only incite him to go faster. Jonah settled on one corner of the carriage, clinging to the seats as he reached for the curtain. It was billowing in the wind, but he couldn’t pull the curtain to one side, the cloth somehow bolted.

“You’re the reporter Phil found, right?” He stopped trying to pull at the curtain, turning his attention to the closed window. Jonah wondered what to reply. This Phil person must be Quackity’s friend from the village, but had Quackity told Phil about him? He’d been given the assignment but Jonah hadn’t been introduced to Phil and Quackity couldn’t have told Phil about him. He still found it weird how Quackity had a friend in a remote village, but… the man had his ways of getting all sorts of connections. It was scary sometimes. “Did you knock yourself out?”

“No—! Uh, yes! No! Ah, fuck. Yes, I’m the reporter and no, I did not knock myself out!”

“Well, you’re the shittiest reporter I’ve ever met! I’ve been up and down the mountains for fucking days now—” Jonah rolled his eyes, tuning out the teenager’s rant. Quackity had given him the exact date of when he was expected to arrive. He remembered the date. He did! Jonah cared a lot for his job to actually remember, so the teenager’s angry words meant nothing to him. Thinking about it, he was kind of glad that he couldn’t see the back of the coachman's head.

“What’s your name?” He pulled out a small notepad from his pants pocket, hoping that the question would stop the teenager. Much to his relief, there was a small bit of silence. He took the moment to write the small details. He’d arrived at the station after lunch, the carriage arrived an hour after he’d arrived, and the coachman was a young blonde teenager with sky blue eyes.

“Tommy. Tommy Innit.” He wrote down the name, staring at it for a second. He swore that the name was familiar, or maybe it wasn’t. Jonah drew a small line between the word ‘coachman’ and Tommy’s name. He opened his mouth to ask Tommy about the disappearances, but the teenager was already speaking again, “Phil said you’re here to investigate the disappearances… pssh, yeah right you will…  Also, I am not sharing my room with you no matter what Phil says!”

“I… Are you Phil’s son?” He heard a scoff, followed by a sharp chuckle. Jonah thought about it, and it did make sense. From the accounts, a lot of families have lost their children to… whatever it was that was skulking about in that village. It would make sense why Phil requested Quackity to send a journalist to document the events. Tommy could be next. Tommy was probably next.

“Phil is an old man.”

“So, is he your grandfather then?” That made Tommy laugh, and Jonah took a bit of pride in knowing that he’d made the teenager less tense and angry. Though, he had a feeling that Tommy wasn’t always so… loud. He hoped he wasn’t. If he was going to stay with Phil and Tommy the entire time, he didn’t want to share a room with someone who screams constantly. His neighbors back home were noisy enough as it is. “How long until we reach the village? Is the path safe?”

“Is the path safe?” Tommy mocked, the carriage rattling as a wheel struck a random rock.

“Yet you drive this thing like a black hole is chasing after you.” Jonah felt the back of his head hit the back of the carriage. He grumbled, rubbing the sore spot with one hand. He’d seen reckless drivers but this was a bit too much. His hand reached for the curtain, lifting the velvet cloth for the briefest of moments. The snow was picking up outside, and he grew worried as the wintery landscape continued to be drowned out by the white haze of an approaching blizzard. His jacket would not be able to keep him warm at all. “How long until we reach your village?”

“We’ll get there a little bit past nightfall, maybe. Hope you like potato soup for dinner… and breakfast… and lunch…” There was a shudder in Tommy’s voice, disgust lacing his words. Jonah had no idea, but it felt like Tommy did not like potatoes at all. He wrote that down on the notepad, as just a small note to remember for himself. He leaned back against his seat, head resting on the soft cloth. For a remote village, the carriage felt like it was… sophisticated. Maybe they had been wrong? Maybe the village wasn’t an isolated one but one of those ancient-royal-tourist attracting places. “My brother insists on the stuff, it’s shit if you ask me—”

Tommy continued to ramble about his hatred for potato soup, not that Jonah was listening.

Instead, he thought of the case that was in front of him. Missing children. An isolated village. A helpless plea from a stranger. He’d seen a lot of crime stories where it felt like they couldn’t possibly be reality, but this one took the cake. Jonah felt his eyes flutter close the more he thought about it, and soon, he fell asleep to the rumble of the carriage and the falling of the snow.

—

It must be a dream.

It was the only explanation for what he saw, or perhaps his sleepless nights of before had finally taken over his mind. Jonah was lying on the carriage seat, a fluffy blanket draped over him, the cloth soft against his cheek. His notepad had fallen to the floor, the pen on the other side of the carriage, having probably rolled away during the trip. He let out a muffled yawn, eyes hazy with sleep and mind still muddled with dreams. The velvet curtains were billowing in the wind, the howl of the blizzard seeping into the carriage and drowning out the thoughts in his sleepy head.

His eyes fluttered close, but the next howl of wind woke him once again. His eyes opened, and through the small gap between the window and the curtain, he saw them. Pools of darkness stared at him from the snowy landscape as large shadows darted in and out of his view. Another howl ripped through the land, the carriage shuddering underneath its fury. Jonah’s throat dried, his eyes impossibly wide as he pressed himself further against the seat of the carriage. Wolves.

It was only then that he’d realized that the carriage wasn’t moving. It was still and dark. He could not hear Tommy, no screams and no cries. Utter silence. His mind raced with the possibilities. Two thoughts. Tommy had seen the wolves and decided better Jonah than him, and had left him to die in exchange for his own life. Or well, Tommy was… But Jonah would have heard the screams, wouldn’t he? He took a deep breath, pulling himself to a sit before reaching a hand out to the door. The handle was cold against his fingers, and as he tried to push the carriage door open, he felt it budge… before stopping. He knitted his eyebrows together, pushing against the door again. It didn’t budge this time. He put his whole weight into it. The door didn’t open.

“Tommy? Are you out there?” He knocked at the door, but it remained unmoving. Jonah pushed, but it felt like he was moving a mountain. He peeked out of the small carriage window again, but he could only see the moving shadows against the white backdrop of snow. The roaring of the blizzard blocked out any noise, even if Tommy had left to fight off the wolves and was injured somewhere, he wouldn’t be able to hear him. He kicked at the door, hoping that the wood would splinter. The carriage didn’t even shudder. He took a deep breath, praying to the gods as he pulled the curtains up again. He slid his arm out of the carriage, the cold biting into his skin as he desperately tried to reach for the door handle. “Tommy! Where the fuck are you, man? Tommy!”

As his fingers brushed against the cool silver of the handle, a sharp pain bloomed in his arm, flowing down to his shoulders and then to his head. He tried to pull his hand away, but a heavy weight had settled on his arm, crushing it against the side of the carriage. His fingers grew numb, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold. Sharp claws dug into his forearm, keeping him from trashing against what he now knew were teeth biting into his flesh. His head grew fuzzy, throat dry, and only then did he realize he’d been screaming himself raw. The billowing blizzard outside grew dim, the world turning into a haze of shadow. Jonah closed his eyes, readying himself for the inevitable flash of agony. It was going to rip his arm out of his socket. He was going to bleed out in a carriage in the middle of nowhere… Somehow, that didn’t seem so bad—

He had lived a good life anyway.

He didn’t know when his knees gave up, but then the weight against his arm disappeared, and the pain turned into a cotton-soft numbness. Jonah slumped against the door, his arm sliding back inside. It was dark and sticky, drenched in liquid that seeped into the sleeves of his coat. His mind was hazy, as he tried to pull himself to consciousness, it almost felt like he was swimming through a whirlpool. His head felt heavy, then it was resting on the floor. His numb arm was tucked close to his chest, staining his shirt even more.

Despite the lull of unconsciousness that was pulling him under, Jonah moved his arm closer to his face. It was intact, and the blood only came from near his elbow. His eyes narrowed, controlling himself from fully shutting them as he looked over at the injury. There was a long gash that started from two small pinpricks, like something had bit him and dragged its teeth through his flesh. It should hurt, but he couldn’t feel anything but the heaviness in his arm. Jonah whimpered, looking away and turning to the window.

It was billowing in the air, but no snow entered the carriage. Jonah pulled himself to a sit, resting his uninjured arm against the door. He took a moment to breathe, stilling when the earth beneath him started to tremble. With as much energy as he could muster, he pulled himself to stand, peering out the window. The wolves had gotten closer, but he couldn’t hear their growls. Their eyes glinted with the warm glow of lantern light, and as Jonah looked closely, he saw a dark cloaked figure standing in front of the wolves.

The stranger held a large wooden staff in their hand, a small lantern hanging by its curved end. It swung with the wind, illuminating the pack of wolves. The wolves snarled at the figure, but they only moved forward, a hand outstretched in front of them. His throat clogged, unsure if he should call out or scream in fear. Death didn’t scare him, but he never liked seeing someone die in front of him. He tapped his knuckle against the wood of the carriage, but the stranger didn’t glance over at him. Then suddenly, the wind was gone, and there was complete and utter silence.

He didn’t know what happened next. One moment he was staring out at the stranger, dread growing in his gut when a wolf leaped into the air, teeth glinting underneath yellow light. Jonah might have thought he had let out a panicked shriek, he didn’t know. The silence had turned into a deafening roar, like the mountains had remembered to scream. His ears were painfully ringing.

Jonah didn’t know if he had fainted, but then he was on the ground, blinking up at the ceiling of the carriage. The ground was shaking, and suddenly he remembered where they were. If not the wolves, his death would be because he’d been buried by an avalanche. Fear spiked in his chest. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to suffocate to death. He tried to move, but his body was crumpled to the ground, exhaustion seeping deeper into his bones. Maybe… Maybe if he closed his eyes…

“I’m back! I remembered the old man told me to get firewood… Are you still asleep?” The door to the carriage opened, and he could see Tommy standing over him. He thought of his arm, of the wolves, and of the stranger that had… What happened to them? He moved his head, eyes blearily gazing at Tommy who stared at him with an emotionless look. He didn’t have any firewood in his arms, and Jonah could have sworn that he didn’t feel the carriage rattle with the extra weight. He gripped at the ground, hoping that Tommy would help him up, or better yet, get them the fuck out of there before the avalanche came and killed them both. Yet, the longer he stared at Tommy, the more annoyed he looked. He felt something settle over him, the blanket. The door slammed close, and he heard Tommy’s footsteps trail away. “God— shit, fuck that hurt. Damn fuckers—”

The carriage shook as Tommy got on again, and his cursing died down once he was seated. Jonah clawed at the ground, tearing the blanket off of him. He rarely ever listened to his self-preservation instincts, but now they were screaming, a cacophony of muted screams and the growls of wolves no longer there. Tommy didn’t stop for firewood, why the fuck would he? Why right now?  And why the fuck would he stop here when there were clearly wolves in the forest?

He reached up, clinging to the handle of the door. This time, there was no weight against the door. It budged against him, but it didn’t open. He blinked, and the ground was jolting beneath him. The horses whinnied, and the carriage shook again before taking off. To his surprise, Tommy was keeping the carriage’s pace at a snail’s crawl. Guilt bubbled up in his chest. Maybe he had been too judgmental. Maybe this was where the village got their firewood and… maybe they weren’t afraid of wolves. He swallowed down the fear and ignored his instincts. Tommy was just a teenager, what did Jonah expect him to do? He probably didn’t even know what to do when someone’s injured. Still, he wished Tommy would quicken the pace, he’ll bleed out if not.

“Tommy… c-can you… can you please move faster?” He groaned out, hoping that his voice could be heard over the horses and the carriage’s wheels. There was no response, not at first, but then the carriage began to move a little faster. Soon enough, they were back at the same pace they had been before Jonah had fallen asleep. His hand clenched around the blanket, and from the little he could see in the darkness, he felt sorry for the bloodstains he would undoubtedly leave on the fabric. It looked like it was freshly made, and it was completely white. He buried his face in it, no longer fighting against sleep. “S-sorry… for the blanket. I… I-I’ll pay you back…”

“Go to sleep, Fundy.” Tommy’s voice sounded close, but that was probably him focusing on it. The warmth of the blanket soothed him, and somehow, he’d never been so comfortable in his life. He sighed, closing his eyes, forgetting dreams of wolves, of blizzards, and of blood. All that mattered was that he was safe, and hopefully someone in the village would be able to fix his arm. 

“I-I’m glad the wolves didn’t take you…” He could hear Tommy snort underneath his breath. While sleep slowly claimed his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder about the case he’d been assigned. If he could actually get to the village in one piece, that is. Were the wolves the reason why so many of the village children were missing? But… no… why would Phil send his son to a wolf-infested area to gather firewood… why even send Tommy to pick him up all on his own…

He didn’t know when, but his thoughts had turned to nightmares. Flashes of pain, wolves, and that swinging lantern light going through his mind as he was lost to the haze of a blizzard. He found himself no longer in the carriage, instead he was on the snow, red blossoming underneath him and tainting the pure white snow beneath. He felt cold, unbearably cold. The wind had taken his breath, and he couldn’t feel anything but agony. In the distance, the gloom of a castle loomed over him, a beacon of safety through the mist of snow. Yet, he couldn’t feel his legs, couldn’t feel his hands no matter how hard he tried to move them. As he looked around, he realized the wolves were not moving towards him… they weren’t moving at all. His gaze flicked over to his hands, covered in crimson that was not his own. The pain he felt was from the cold, and his body was merely exhausted after… he didn’t know what he’d done. Suddenly, two shadows loomed above—

“Wake up time, bitch!”

=============================================================

:)

Also sorry, Yogurt is just a plant here.

[glados-is-beloved]

Portal 2 headcanons?????

I think a lot about the general atmosphere of a lot of the locations in the game, like temperatures and smells and stuff.

Relaxation vault rooms

They're fairly normal room temperature, really.

Clean air but a slight weird artificial smell that's hard to describe, like leftover smell from someone who was wearing a strong perfume, but has since left.

Portal 1 era aperture

Very warm and humid but has some fresh, cold breezes cut through it on occasion.

It smells very earthy, like dirt and plants and things that have spent the whole day in strong direct sunlight.

Although the areas between chambers are significantly cooled down, and gives Chell a slight break.

Triple laser-like clean chambers

They're a bit cold, but also the air is fairly stagnant and stuffy.

The only real smells present in the controlled and sterile environment are some like the terrible "gravely overworked computer" smoke smell from the lasers, and other smells from various test elements.

Behind the scenes/void/GLaDOS chamber/other

Cold without a doubt, but just enough that you don't need a coat.

The air is oddly fresh, but the only smell is a very faint one that's reminiscent of rubbing alcohol/other chemicals and stuff.

Old aperture

Sweltering hot and extremely humid, and the air is like inhaling wool.

There's smells of rust, chemicals, wood, and various other things.

Wheatley science

Around a 50/50 mix of the test chamber and behind the scenes vibes.

Surface

Pretty windy, super fresh and cool air that faintly carries the smells of dirt and wheat.

Ok now for just test elements

Deadly goo

Terrible smell like old dirty dishes that've been sitting and soaking in the same stagnant water for a week, mixed with that same smokey overworked computer smell.

It hits you like a truck the moment you enter the chamber, and it's so bad you can almost taste it.

Cubes

The storage cube is scentless, because it's metal, but it's got a cool and almost wet feel when you touch it.

The companion cube has got a slight sweet floral smell to it, for test subject psychology reasons. It's slightly warmer than the storage cube.

The laser cube is same as the storage cube, maybe a bit colder.

The old aperture cubes are just wooden, they just smell like wood.

The frankenturrets are warm to the touch, and have a vent somewhere on them, which burns your hand a little if you touch it.

Excursion funnels

They feel weird to be in, and the blue ones are a bit cold, while the orange ones are slightly warm. It feels like there's a wind flow in the direction of the funnel.

There's some more test elements that I can't really headcanon very well, but yeah these are my thoughts on what all these different parts of portal 2 would be like in person.

[harcourtholmesii]

Love And Hate

Once again, another belated post for @connor-sent-by-cyberlife, as internet has been particularly crappy the past few days, so I haven’t been able to post any of my writing. It will probably be like this for the next few days, me just catching up, as without internet, I didn’t have access to my youtube playlist, which is a necessity for me to write. Sorry about the lateness of this post and what posts follow after.

Pairings: Markus X Simon and One-sided North X Markus

Warnings: - References to Violence and Death - References to Abandonment and Abuse - Hurt/Comfort and Angst

Words: 2529

Enjoy!

‘We need to take a stand! Every day, more of our people are slaughtered in the streets!’

 ‘And if we just start killing any wayward human we come across, we will only be encouraging these executions!’

 ‘If you are afraid to fight for our cause, I suggest you return yourself to CyberLife! Maybe being deconstructed and having your parts reshaped to suit a household Roomba will change your mind!’

‘If we seek violence, then we only welcome death. Bully me all you want, North, but this is the only way!’

 Markus’ head hurt from the most recent of Josh and North’s series of arguments; he assumed it would be much like a ‘headache’ for humans. He hated having to hear his closest companions yelling back and forth; both had good arguments and reasons for their sides, but the constant raised voices and aggressive tones carried through the walls of Jericho.

 Their people were scared, and the discourse between both Josh and North was not helping anyone to feel safe.

 They hardly seemed to notice him leaving, stepping out of the room and heading for the stairs. The drip and drops of leaking water and the gentle tilt of Jericho’s hull was soothing to Markus, his headache already having begun to recede.

 At the base of the stairs, there was the glow of the fire pit to his left; Lucy was helping another damaged android to seal their wounds. She had since gotten a lot of aid from the freed androids that joined them in Jericho and had become Markus’ confidant in all, personal matters. She and Simon had both been there for him whilst the others fought, but Simon had been absent from Markus’ inner circle the past few days.

 He had hoped that his closest friend would be by Lucy’s side, helping their people with their injuries, but peering past the ruined curtain, he could not see the head of familiar, wheat hair. Looking out over the crowd, there was the occasional PL600 that caught his eye, but he did not recognise them.

 Androids may have all shared faces across their different models, but there was something about their eyes, how they held themselves and their tones of voice; it helped to differentiate them. Something humans may have struggled with, simply amongst twins or triplets, was something that came easy to the average android. And with Markus, it just seemed that much clearer.

 He passed through the crowd, offering his sincerest words to those that sought him out. Markus hadn’t much liked the idea of leading his people, especially when they had only just been released from human control. The thought had sickened him at first, but he adapted to it quickly; he didn’t want to be their ‘master’, but the more he spoke with Lucy and Simon, the more he realised he had simply become their servant. A leadership role was meant to serve the people, not the other way around.

 As he strayed to the edges of the crowd, he caught the familiar sight of blue eyes looking in his direction. Markus turned and made his way to a corridor, rusted yellow doors lining each side. Leaned against one, sat up on an empty CyberLife crate, was Simon. His chest rose and fell, much like a human’s would as they breathed, and as Markus approached, the hum of the thirium pump became that much more obvious.

 Simon still sported a wound; sealed though it was, his skin still had yet to return to it. The white of his chassis revealed a deep gash and how his thirium pump remained exposed. Despite him walking back to Jericho, Simon shouldn’t have been allowed to move much. His biocomponents could have been shutting down from all the stress, and Markus wasn’t sure how much more loss he could suffer through. Not when Simon had just come back.

 ‘Simon?’

 ‘Markus.’ He offered a tense smile, those stormy blue eyes darting away to focus their gaze on the floor. Hesitantly, Markus did take a seat beside him, and noticed how the android shifted over, as if to create space between them. Markus didn’t understand it. Since they hugged upon the other’s return, he thought they were still close. The last thing he wanted was Simon to be upset.

 He rested his hand on the other’s; feeling the cool of his synthetic skin against his own. The hand twitched, but didn’t move away at the intrusion.

 ‘I’ve missed you at our meetings, Simon. It would be nice to hear your opinions in our discussions.’ He hoped that, by striking a conversation with him, Simon would open up. He worried that whatever he had experienced on the rooftop of the broadcast tower may have hurt him more than Markus could ever know.

 ‘Yes, well, it is not my place.’

 ‘W-What do you mean? Simon, I want your opinion; I respect it.’

 ‘That does not matter.’ Those eyes turned to finally look up at Markus, and Simon’s heavy head rolled to the side, resting on Markus’ shoulder. ‘I… I am not able to help you.’

 ‘Simon, I trust your judgement. I want to hear what you have to say.’ A small smile pulled at the corners of Simon’s lips, and for a moment, he seemed to almost curl closer. ‘I don’t want you to forget this, Simon, but you are my closest friend.’

 Simon’s head rolled the other way, and the man sat up. The thrumming of his thirium pump sounded louder through the wound, and the hand that Markus had caught, slipped away to cover it. The smile on Simon’s face had dropped.

 ‘What’s wrong?’

 ‘I-It’s nothing, Markus.’

 ‘It isn’t nothing.’ He shifted closer as Simon had shifted away. He rested his hand over Simon’s shoulder, and the android jerked his whole body away, weakly falling off the crate and to his feet. He stepped away from Markus, seemingly afraid. ‘Talk to me. I want to hear what you have to say.’

 Simon took another step back.

 ‘Is this about what happened at the tower?’

 Another step.

 ‘Or is it something I have done?’

 ‘No!’ The sudden outburst caught both of them off guard, as Simon’s hand raised to his lips. He seemed almost horrified at his own reaction, but it was enough for Markus to step forward and take a gentle hold of Simon’s shoulders and steer him away from the crowd of androids behind them. If this was something so personal to him, perhaps something he didn’t want to admit in front of anyone else, Markus wouldn’t force him to say so when their people stood naught fifteen feet away.

 They entered into one of the side rooms, sealing the rusted, yellow door behind them. It was an empty room, save for some crates of old, tinned food that had been abandoned along with the vessel. Simon had put some distance between them again once the door had shut, but he seemed less likely to scurry away. He just seemed… nervous.

 ‘Simon-’

 ‘No, Markus. I… I don’t want to talk about this. It… I will…’

 ‘Please, Simon.’ Markus stepped closer, and without much space to avoid him, Simon let him approach. ‘The last thing I want is for you to be hurting. I want you to talk to me, to let me know what is happening. I want to help you, in whatever way I can.’

 ‘You can’t help this, Markus.’

 ‘Maybe I can, and you just don’t realise?’ Markus attempted to joke, but there was only a shake from Simon’s head. ‘Please, just talk to me. I don’t even have to say anything if you don’t want me to. If you really want…’ Markus didn’t want it, but he didn’t want the other to continue to alienate himself from the rest of Jericho.

 ‘We can get Lucy to erase my memories of our conversation, if you just want to get if off your chest?’

 Simon’s eyes widened at the idea, but the minute trembling had ceased. He stood, stock still for a time, until Markus had taken another seat by the wall, and gestured for Simon to join him.

 ‘Y-You would do that?’ Markus smiled.

 ‘Anything for you.’

 It was a hesitant approach, but Simon did take a seat beside him. They leaned against the wall of the room, feeling the wet of leaking water running into their clothes. They didn’t care.

 ‘I… I don’t want you to hate me, Markus.’

 ‘I don’t.’

 ‘I-I know, but… I don’t want what I have to say to change anything for the worse.’ Markus nodded his head, and didn’t say anything else. He allowed the other to speak.

 ‘I… I have discovered Markus that, especially when North is around you, speaking to you and looking at you in the way she does, I feel a kind of heat surge through me. My temperature feels as though it has raised, but my HUD does not detail any errors.’

 ‘The way you hold hands, the way she moves so close to you… I can’t stand it. I know it is wrong, Markus, but I… I want you to look at me in that way.’

 ‘You are so brave in your choices, so willing to take on the pain of our people and to offer them an extended hand every time. You seek to help them and do what you can for them. Even when I argued against it, you still helped to steal an entire truck of parts and biocomponents. Something I would never be brave enough to accomplish.'

 ‘I admire you, Markus. And I want you to admire me… Not because I am brave or because I am a good leader, like you. I am neither of those things, but I want your eyes to be on me, the same way you gaze at North.’

 ‘You have great wisdom, a willingness to help all androids, and the courage to do it all. You listen to everyone’s opinions and you are creative in a way I don’t think I could ever be.’

 ‘It is…’ It was the first time Simon had halted in his words. He hesitated, and the sight of tears pooling at the corners of his eyes made Markus feel a deep tug within his chest cavity. His hand wrapped around Simon’s once more, and the other didn’t pull away.

 ‘I think it is ‘love’, Markus. I love you…’

 The tears had begun to flow. Markus pulled Simon closer, but didn’t hold him. He did not wish to restrict the other. The man beside him was sensitive, and scared. Markus didn’t want Simon to run away from him. Not after this.

 ‘W-When you left me on that rooftop, I thought I wouldn’t see you again. I… I was scared to die, but I had never felt more scared when I saw the three of you leap off the building. I thought I would be found, that I would give away everything about Jericho…’

 Markus’ ‘heart’ fell.

 ‘And then you didn’t come back…’

 Markus had hated doing that to Simon. He couldn’t kill him, but when he saw the other crawl away across the roof, dragging his legs behind him, he had not expected the officers would miss him. When he had heard the deviant hunter had been present at the tower, he had assumed Simon had been caught, and deactivated.

 When the other had returned, out of the blue and alive, Markus had never felt two such conflicting emotions before. He had felt a great weight fall from him, as if he was relieved, when he could feel Simon in his arms. But, he felt just as cold, when he realised that Simon had been alive the whole time, and abandoned to his fate.

 ‘I’m sorry.’ Simon continued to cry silently. ‘I didn’t mean to abandon you. I never wanted to. I…’ He felt tears in his own eyes, but refused to let them fall. He had no right.

 ‘I love you, Markus… P-Please… Please don’t leave me again…’

 ‘I won’t.’

 They held each other there for a while, until Simon lifted his gaze to Markus. He sat up and the two androids stood, smiling at each other.

 ‘Y-you don’t hate me, do you?’

 ‘Never have and never will.’ Markus reassured him, resting a hand on Simon’s cheek. The two of them were stood close, their faces having drawn in to where they were only a short distance apart.

 ‘W-Will you do as you suggested?’ Simon asked. ‘Will you go to Lucy?’

 ‘If you want me to…’ He leaned closer, brushing his lips over Simon’s cheek. The android froze, eyes widened in shock. He didn’t pull away from Markus’ hand on his cheek and Markus felt a kind of sweet warmth enter into his cheeks. The faintest turquoise colour had started to blossom in Simon’s face.

 ‘May I admit something to you, Simon?’

 Simon’s own hands had raised, resting on Markus’ chest. There were placed as if to push away, but all they did was clasp to the lapels of his coat.

 ‘Y-Yes?’

 Markus dipped his head again, their lips brushing ever so slightly. It sent another thrill through their bodies, something that warmed them up inside. It wasn’t a kiss, but it had been close enough.

 Markus took one of Simon’s hands from his chest, and felt their skin recede. It revealed the white of their bodies beneath, and there was a bright blue, glowing at their fingertips. He could see through Simon’s eyes, how he had been beaten down since the first day he had been bought by his family. His model was due to be decommissioned as an obsolete model, and he had panicked.

 It was a rush all at once, and Markus lowered his lips to Simon’s. It was a gentle, unsure lock of lips. Their eyes shut, allowing them to see through each other’s eyes. Markus could see himself through Simon, how the other watched him and felt warm whenever he spoke. He felt a sense of joy to see someone so invested in the lives of their people, and a great respect for someone willing to make the hard decisions.

 ‘I don’t want to forget this, Simon.’

 They kissed again, a little longer this time. The feeling of heat rushing through their bodies continued to grow.

 ‘If you will let me, I want to remember this… And if you want, I would love it if you allowed me to love you.’

 ‘B-But what about North?’

 ‘North…’ Markus thought over his words for a moment. ‘North and I are close, Simon. She is proud and strong, who cares for our people. But she is not who I want.’

 He leaned in for another kiss, resting one gently peck over both of Simon’s closed eyes. Then, he kissed his lips again. It felt wonderful. It was no mystery to Markus why a good number of humans longed for such connection. He didn’t wish it to end.

 ‘I… I want you, Simon. Will you let me remember?’ Simon breathed, fingers locking with Markus’ own.

 ‘I… I don’t want you to forget me, Markus…’

 ‘Then I won’t. I will never forget you.’

[rolanberry-rebel]

Windows to the Soul

With one look into the eyes, a clever negotiator can see everything - hesitation, fear, anxiety, hubris. Few things help you distinguish the wheat from the chaff like the eyes.

As a little girl, the other kids in the neighborhood relentlessly teased Maritsa - for her scrawny stature; how her parents’ poverty left her to wear dirty rags in the street, but more than anything they teased her for her eyes - one hazel-brown and one emerald-green. To some simply a genetic quirk, but children are relentless, searching for any strangeness, any insecurity to single out and antagonize other children over.

As soon as she'd found enough gil lying in gutters to afford a pair, Maritsa began buying shaded spectacles to keep her deformity hidden. She learned young that with her eyes hidden, her pained reactions - frowns, tears - lost a key component of their meaning; with no subtle shift of the eyes from which to derive wicked joy, the children’s teasing began to subside. A pragmatic accessory she’d picked up as a mask against her tormentors began instead to alienate her peers - and, eventually, as Maritsa’s quick mind and ruthlessness expanded, they became a symbol of fear among the local children.

Now, Maritsa kir Vesicus had long ago abandoned those simple, cheap sunshades, trading them in for a molded-metal visor, its gold-flecked steel shrouding her odd-colored eyes completely. A trio of red lights fed the world in perfect detail into a viewscreen, filtering and looping and zooming and giving Maritsa both sight and insight greater than even the keenest pair of real eyes could. More importantly, though, they read Maritsa’s eyes - and with subtle twitches and blinks, a series of magitek relays fed orders straight from Mari’s gaze to the bitpack along her waist, granting preternatural control over a technology so powerful she’d not sell it for all the coin in the entire Garlean treasury.

When a man can’t see your eyes he can’t read you. When you’re in the business of negotiating arms sales to some of the most dangerous, bloodthirsty criminals, mercenaries and killers in all Hydaelyn, you need every advantage you can get. Some tried flattery and flirtation, others intimidation, but in the end all of them had a simple choice - pay the price Maritsa wanted, or end up her enemy. You didn’t want to be her enemy.

That fact appears to have escaped the man now standing toe-to-toe with the infamous arms dealer - a roegadyn quartermaster to a crew of pirates, and not the jolly, grog-swilling, sea-chantey types of pirates, either. A mountain of metal and muscle with a scar-crested grin on his face, the fearless lieutenant paced along his deck, inspecting the sleek black crates packed heavy with experimental mortals and magitek aethershells. The haul could easily give even the most cowardly and combat-inept crew the upper hand in a scuff with the Limsan navy, and the crew’s quartermaster appeared pleased.

“The cap’n ‘ad business, but rest assured lassie I act with ‘is full confidence,” the surly marauder barked, the head of his axe a rust-toned red, no doubt meant to intimidate onlookers with imagined tales of bloody battles won. The crew, assembled along the deck behind the quartermaster, whispered among themselves, a few evil grins shared in anticipation.

“Ten million. For one crate,” Maritsa stated flatly, her words giving as few clues as to her mental state as her shrouded eyes offered. Her visor blipped as it readjusted, feeding details of every single movement to the highlander. Her back stiff and her stance unflagging, the scummy laugh her offer elicited did little to dissuade her confident stance.

“Lassie, there’s scarce a cannon in all ‘a blasted Othard worth even one tenth ‘a that,” the quartermaster responded, his words oozing from between his scarred lips. “Yer insultin’ me crew. An’ me cap’n, who’d certainly ‘ave run ye through if he’d heard that. I’ll give ye a few moments to reconsider.”

“Don’t need even another second. Ten million per crate,” Maritsa repeated. The crew grew restless, clearly clamoring to teach the highlander a lesson. The quartermaster lifted a closed fist to calm them.

“Well, by ways of a little thinking, imagine fer me fer a second,” the roegadyn mused darkly. “Imagine a crew ‘o forty ‘a the nastiest, hungriest, dirtiest killers this side ‘a Vylbrand, starin’ ye down wi’ cutlass and pistol, an’ me at the front, each of us takin’ our piece of that ten million out on th’ haughty bitch who dared insult us twice,” he continued, bringing sadistic chuckles from the crew. “What’s t’ stop me from doin’ ‘at instead of payin’ yer ten million, huh?”

“Nothing stopping you from trying,” Maritsa answered, smirking. He couldn’t see the devil in the highlander’s eyes, hidden beneath the visor, which bleeped as it acquired its target. “Except maybe the shriveled little bits of flesh between your legs.”

“Wh-what? Ye little--” that really got him. The quartermaster moved fast, gauntleted fists grasping the haft of his axe and, in a fluid motion, ripping through a soaring arc downward towards the sword-tongued arms dealer. He may have been fast - but Mari was faster. Several minutes faster. She expected this.

All she needed was one look at his eyes.

Shock replaced fury in the roegadyn’s expression as his blade fell harmlessly against a barrier of force, now glowing soft blue at the power of the quartermaster’s brash blow. Safe behind her shield, Mari sighed.

“So predictable, and so boring,” she dismissed him, a subtle movement of her eyes and squeeze of her palm sending the signal to the bitpack at her waist. The device hummed suddenly to life, launching four darting high-power energy relays into the air. Before the quartermaster could blink the relays had surrounded him; each glowed and blipped quietly in sync, and flashed to life, an array of burning light vaporizing the roegadyn so fast he didn’t even have time to scream. When the blinding flash dissipated, only a pair of heat-scoured boots and a trail of dust remained where a towering mountain had once stood. The crew stood in sudden, awed silence as the darting relays floated silently back to their resting place at Mari’s waist.

“Now,” Mari stated plainly, “I’m going to take my crates with me back to the shore. Let your captain know I’m waiting for his response, will you?” she canted her head to the side, a sea of stunned, befuddled eyes watching her every motion. “Tell you what - let him know I’ll even give him a 3-mil discount on each crate, by ways of paying back for the quartermaster. Okay?” Still no response from the terrified crowd. “Hello, anyone?” Annoyed, she scoffed, dragging the mortar crates towards the deck’s rail, clicking a few buttons on her magitek bracer to call in her airship.

“Men,” she murmured, lifting her visor just long enough to roll her eyes at the dumbfounded pirates.

[gwydionmisha]

The Haunted BY JOHN MASEFIELD

Here, in this darkened room of this old house,     I sit beside the fire.     I hear again, Within, the scutter where the mice carouse,     Without, the gutter dropping with the rain. Opposite, are black shelves of wormy books,     To left, glazed cases, dusty with the same, Behind, a wall, with rusty guns on hooks,     To right, the fire, that chokes one panting flame. Over the mantel, black as funeral cloth,     A portrait hangs, a man, whose flesh the worm Has mawed this hundred years, whose clothes the moth     A century since, has channelled to a term. I cannot see his face :  I only know He stares at me, that man of long ago. I light the candles in the long brass sticks,     I see him now, a pale-eyed, simpering man, Framed in carved wood, wherein the death-watch ticks,     A most dead face :  yet when the work began That face, the pale puce coat, the simpering smile,     The hands that hold a book, the eyes that gaze, Moved to the touch of mind a little while.     The painter sat in judgment on his ways : The painter turned him to and from the light,     Talked about art, or bade him lift his head. Judged the lips’ paleness and the temples’ white,     And now his work abides ;  the man is dead. But is he dead ?  This dusty study drear Creaks in its panels that the man is here. Here, beyond doubt, he lived, in that old day.     “He was a Doctor here,” the student thought. Here, when the puce was new, that now is grey,     That simpering man his daily practice wrought. Here he let blood, prescribed the pill and drop,     The leech, the diet ;  here his verdict given Brought agonies of hoping to a stop,     Here his condemned confessioners were shriven. What is that book he holds, the key, too dim     To read, to know ;  some little book he wrote, Forgotten now, but still the key to him.     He sacrificed his vision for his coat. I see the man ;  a simpering mask that hid A seeing mind that simpering men forbid. Those are his books no doubt, untoucht, undusted,     Unread, since last he left them on the shelves, Octavo sermons that the fox has rusted,     Sides splitting off from brown decaying twelves. This was his room, this darkness of old death,     This coffin-room with lights like embrasures, The place is poisonous with him ;  like a breath     On glass, he stains the spirit ;  he endures. Here is his name within the sermon book,     And verse, “When hungry Worms my Body eat” ; He leans across my shoulder as I look,     He who is God or pasture to the wheat. He who is Dead is still upon the soul     A check, an inhibition, a control. I draw the bolts.     I am alone within.     The moonlight through the coloured glass comes faint, Mottling the passage wall like human skin,     Pale with the breathings left of withered paint. But others walk the empty house with me,     There is no loneliness within these walls No more than there is stillness in the sea     Or silence in the eternal waterfalls. There in the room, to right, they sit at feast ;     The dropping grey-beard with the cold blue eye, The lad, his son, that should have been a priest,     And he, the rake, who made his mother die. And he, the gambling man, who staked the throw, They look me through, they follow when I go. They follow with still footing down the hall,     I know their souls, those fellow-tenants mine, Their shadows dim those colours on the wall,     They point my every gesture with a sign. That grey-beard cast his aged servant forth     After his forty years of service done, The gambler supped up riches as the north     Sups with his death the glories of the sun. The lad betrayed his trust ;  the rake was he     Who broke two women’s hearts to ease his own : They nudge each other as they look at me,     Shadows, all our, and yet as hard as stone. And there, he comes, that simpering man, who sold His mind for coat of puce and penny gold. O ruinous house, within whose corridors     None but the wicked and the mad go free. (On the dark stairs they wait, behind the doors     They crouch, they watch, or creep to follow me.) Deep in old blood your ominous bricks are red,     Firm in old bones your walls’ foundations stand, With dead men’s passions built upon the dead,     With broken hearts for lime and oaths for sand. Terrible house, whose horror I have built,     Sin after sin, unseen, as sand that slips Telling the time, till now the heaped guilt     Cries, and the planets circle to eclipse. You only are the Daunter, you alone Clutch, till I feel your ivy on the bone.

[pergaias]

love and loss ; a short story

in a nutshell,,,,,,,, i was feeling really romantic one afternoon and wanted to write gay fluff, so i wrote gay angst instead. trigger warnings for blood, death, and i guess gay ? was making this hurt emotionally my way of calming myself down after i was lowkey asked out yes it was 

word count ; 3293

They said that when you died, there were seven minutes of brain activity where you replayed all your memories—good and bad, bitter and sweet. 

Seven fucking minutes. Tears traced their way down the dust on Kase’s face, and his dirty fingers shook as he held onto Cal’s limp hand. Cal’s lips were blue, his skin already turning gray. Kace had pulled Cal onto his lap almost as soon as he fell, when the other people in olive drab ran to find a medic, but by then Cal was almost gone. 

It had been that window of seven minutes—if Cal had been less proud, maybe he’d have admitted to the hole in his side. He had covered it with the side of the jacket Kace had given him—Kace had run into him as soon as they got word of the Kenlan’s surrender, his dusty face split with a grin that crashed more quickly than his seaplane when Cal smiled, blood on his teeth, and collapsed to the ground.

His breathing was so ragged. Kase had screamed—they just won, he wailed, sinking to his knees next to Cal, brushing dirt and ash and dried blood off of Cal’s cheeks with shaking hands and running his fingers through that wheat-gold hair. They had just won—Arstrich wouldn’t be oppressed any longer. 

They were supposed to be safe now. At peace to be who they were, to love who they wanted to love, to live long lives where they could waltz in the kitchen of a sunlit apartment and kiss messily and laugh and live and love and—it wasn’t supposed to end like this. It wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t—

“Kace,” Cal’s voice sounded like sandpaper. There was so much blood—on Cal, on the ground, covering Kace’s hands. He didn’t think that he’d ever get the smell—no, the taste, heavy and hot and metallic—of Cal’s blood out of his nose. Out of his mouth. Out of his mind.

“Callum, you fucking idiot, you—” Kace’s throat was so swollen from tears, from being so goddamn tired, tired of running and fighting and being unable to sleep because the nightmares kept him up—blood and fire and gunshots and screams, from the battlefields and from when his little seaplane fell out of the sky and a boy with eyes like storm-tossed seas and hair like the fields of wheat back home helped him out, blushing when his eyes dropped to Kace’s hand in his.

A medic had shown up, a girl barely older than Kase and Cal. Her brown hair was spilling over her shoulders as she slammed a kit down and cut the side of Cal’s thin white t-shirt, stained rust-red with his blood. The girl’s hands were nimble as she opened her kit and soaked up the blood with a wad of gauze. But it kept gushing—Kace felt sick. 

The medic was probing through the gaping wound in his side for the fragments of bullet now—Kace had to look away. He couldn’t focus on the grayish pallor to Cal’s fair skin, or the ash clinging to his long lashes, or the blood bubbling from a corner of his mouth. He stared at one of the low-burning oil lamps instead, trying to keep himself from crying. Under his hand, Cal’s hand was so cold, his calluses rough on his palms. 

The girl worried at her lower lip with her teeth as she motioned for Kace to get out of her way. Kace moved away, his heart aching when he tried to let go of Cal’s hand, but Cal squeezed his fingers. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his breathing shallow. “Don’t go,” he choked out, blood bubbling from a corner of his mouth. How was he still conscious?

“I’m here, Cal,” Kace promised, brushing hair from Cal’s forehead. Cal kept bleeding and bleeding—there was so much blood. It was everywhere. “I’m—I’m here.”

The medic’s brows were creased in concentration. “We’ll need to cauterize it,” she said, her voice wavering. There was ash streaked all over her face and hair, making her warm skin look sickly in the dim lighting of the control room. “But—”

“He’ll live,” Kace said stubbornly, squeezing Cal’s fingers. He made a gasping cough, more blood bubbling out of his mouth and running down his chin. “He has to.”

Kace felt numb, like he was underwater. Sick to his stomach, all the input that his surroundings were sending to his brain unable to convert into cohesive output. His mind kept flashing to his stolen moments with Cal—that day when they found the cold brook, when Cal had flashed that crooked grin and splashed some water at him. 

The nights that Kace woke up screaming, his brown skin ashen with cold sweat. The night that Cal had taken his hand and crawled under the thin cot covers with him, when he had whispered into Kace’s ear until he stopped shaking. That was the first night he felt safe enough to fully close his eyes. 

Cal was dying. There was no way around it—that was the glaring truth. His blue lips, the blood running down his chin and gushing out of his stomach. The boy Kace loved was dying. 

The medic had a cheap cigarette lighter and someone’s well-worn hunting knife in her hands, a crescent-moon of red underneath her nails. She was heating the blade until it turned orange—someone handed Kace a wad of thick olive drab fabric and somehow Kace opened Cal’s mouth and shoved the fabric between his teeth—and then  the medic murmured a prayer to the Saints as she pressed the heated blade to Cal’s side.

Cal’s scream was bloodcurdling. Kace hadn’t heard anything like it before, and he knew—he knew—that that sound would haunt him for the rest of his days. 

Kace was next to Cal as he died, tears tracing down the dirt and ash and flakes of dried blood on his face, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on Cal’s hand, even though he knew there was no soothing what was to come.

For seven minutes after Cal’s heart stopped beating and Kace’s was torn in two, Cal’s brain would play back all his memories in a dream sequence. Seventeen years’ worth of memories condensed down into seven minutes.

Seven minutes too late. Seven minutes too short.

Seven minutes that felt like an eternity as Kace cried and cried, whispering I love you into Cal’s gold hair and kissed his cold lips and rocked his body, the body that had survived a war but had been taken down by a stray bullet minutes after General Veda’s surrender.

The medic’s hand was on Kace’s shoulder, and he cried harder. She had tried—they all had tried. If Cal had been less proud, they might have saved him. If it were Kace in that moment, Kace walking back from the field with a smile on his face, Cal the one waiting for him in the control room with a kiss, it—it—

“It hurts,” Kace whimpered, turning his face into the medic’s rough coat. Her bloodied fingers ran through Kace’s hair, gentle as a sister’s. Kace felt bad for not knowing her name—she had been there when he fell out of the sky. It had been her steady fingers that stitched the side of Kace’s face together. “Why does—why does it hurt so much?” his face crumpled. 

Someone had covered Cal with a sheet while Kace cried. The boy he loved was dead and cold and covered by a white sheet, the color violent in the dim, dirty room. 

The medic’s voice was soft, but it broke over the words. “Because it was real, Kace. He loved you and you loved him.”

Kace wiped his eyes with his sleeve and looked at the medic, her bangs pasted to her forehead with sweat, the ash and blood striped over her cheeks. She sank to her knees next to him, letting Kace wrap his arms around her and cry. “We live and we love and we lose,” she said softly. “That’s what living means.”

Why did he have to die. Why did he have to die. I love him, I loved him, he’s gone, he’s gone—

Kace only managed to nod. His hands were covered in Cal’s dried blood, his skin itching beneath the flakes. He didn’t want to get up and scrub it off, to collapse in the washroom once he was alone.

“Don’t mourn the life he lost, Kace. And if—” she bit her lip, “if he survived the wound, it—he’s not suffering anymore, Kace. He’s not in any more pain.”

Kace found it in himself to nod. “Celebrate the life he lived,” she urged. God, the medic was so young, and she’d probably seen more than Cal and Kase, simple soldiers, ever had. “Do you—do you want to tell me about the time you spent with him?”

He nodded again. His hands shook, but he told her. His heart ached and his eyes leaked acid rain but he found it in him to speak about the boy he loved.

He talked for seven minutes. 

***

Inez was beaming. Avalon’s rosy brown hair was tumbling down her shoulders, half-up with a scrap of a ribbon Inez had ripped from the sleeve of her medic’s uniform and given to her as a present on the last Sun Festival. Her scarf was forlorn around her neck, the ends fluttering in the wind. 

“Come on, Avalon,” Inez took her girlfriend’s hand, giddy for the sake of being giddy. The war was over, and the smell of blood didn’t linger on Inez’s hands anymore, she had finally scrubbed the crescents of rust from under her fingernails . . . and she was free to love Avalon. 

“Where are we going?” Avalon’s eyes sparkled softly, two bright stars. She was so beautiful, with her red-brown hair and light brown skin, her lips full and soft and her cheeks dotted with freckles like constellations.

“Remember what you told me you always wanted to do?” Inez’s lips quirked into a smile. “At the bonfire party all those months ago, when you—”

“When I let my hair down for the first time?” Avalon teased, flicking a curl over her shoulder. Inez’ heart swelled with affection, and she stopped walking to tuck a stray strand behind Avalon’s ear. Avalon grabbed Inez’s wrist where her fingerless glove ended, her callused soldier’s fingers gentle. Inez’ throat went dry as her eyes met Avalon’s, gray meeting honey brown.

Avalon leaned in and brushed her lips against Inez’s, so softly that it could hardly be called a kiss at all. It felt both terrifying and elating to be this close—to be this in love—in the middle of an abandoned field, where anyone could see. 

“We’re free, Inez,” Avalon breathed, throwing her arms around Inez’s neck. She smelled like rosewater and coffee and the lingering scent of gunpowder that always seemed to cling to her warm brown skin. “We fought and we won and we made it, but—” Avalon seemed nervous for some reason, her lips grazing against Inez’ collarbone. She shivered.

“We lived,” Inez finished, resting her cheek against Avalon’s and tangling their fingers together. 

On the last day of the war, Inez had been the closest medic to the control room of the concrete bunker the Arstrich revolutionaries had called home base. She had tried and failed to save a young man who was shot by stray gunfire from the last of the Kenlan forces in the city—she remembered his freckled face, his dirty-blond hair streaked with grime. 

She remembered the pained face of the dark-skinned lanky boy who clung onto his hand like a lifeline. She had sat and listened and held back tears as his boyfriend cried and talked about his life and the time they shared together.

It had made Inez stop and reconsider as she stripped off her bloodstained medic’s coat and tried not to cry as she desperately tried to scrub the blood from under her fingernails. Avalon had come into their little apartment in the barracks and absentmindedly dropped a kiss on Inez’ bare shoulder.

She had burst into tears then. Avalon had let her cry on her shoulder, stroking her hair and murmuring words in Onisfrian that Inez didn’t understand but sobbed all the more for—when Arstrich had been occupied by Kenlan, any foreign language or custom was illegal. 

Avalon had always had a rebellious streak to her—shaving her head and joining the revolutionaries when she was sixteen, rising up in the ranks over the course of two years, kissing a female field medic in training behind the meager Solstice holiday decorations. 

Inez hid a little smile as the pair walked up a little swell of earth that barely could have been called a hill, their linked hands swinging between them. Avalon sucked in a breath at the hot-air balloon waiting in the open field, striped in red and yellow. The colors of the Arstrich flag. 

I want to fly, Avalon had said wistfully at the bonfire party, fluttering her hands around like birds on a current. Her russet hair had been lit up by the flickering flames and her honey-brown eyes glowed molten—she looked ethereal, otherworldly. Like one of the Arstrichan saints, with their golden crowns and pearlescent tearstains. 

“Inessa,” Avalon turned to face her, tears sparkling in her eyes. “You’re afraid of heights—”

Inez wanted to laugh, to say something romantic like I’m not afraid of heights, I’m afraid of falling. And, Saints, I already fell for you, but instead she laughed a watery laugh and enveloped Avalon in a hug, their faces so close that if Inez tilted her head to the left, they’d be kissing. 

“Yeah,” she said, her voice cracking, “Yeah I am.”

“I’m fearless enough for the both of us—” Avalon’s voice cracked, and Inez thought she’d add my love like she always did, but instead she stroked Inez’ thick brown hair, her nose cold against Inez’ cheek. 

Onisfrian sounded like poetry, Inez thought, as she hoisted herself into the balloon’s basket and helped—or pretended to be useful—as Avalon clambered in, limber as a dancer. When Avalon spoke it, the words were like music. 

“Do you know how to operate this?” Avalon teased, touching the tip of Inez’s nose as Inez reached up and pulled a lever. Inez gently smoothed her bangs down and grinned. “Somewhat. If we die, blame your commanding officer.”

Avalon slapped the side of Inez’ arm. “You got fucking Commander Rikveld to teach you how to operate a balloon?”

“I helped his wife deliver their twins safely,” Inez reminded her girlfriend. “He owed me a favor.”

Inez tried not to think of how far below the ground was—or how close the clouds seemed—as she operated the controls, focusing on not dying—Inessa you survived a war you can take your girlfriend ballooning one goddamn time—and when it came time to land, she found herself petting her hair, her bangs, the woolen fabric of her coat. 

The coat was all-too-reminiscent of her medic’s jacket, olive green drab with an abundance of pockets and two gold ribbons down the sleeves, but when the war was won and Inez had the privilege of picking out her own clothes, she found herself wearing the same things. Camisole. Button-up shirt. Sweater. Warm coat. Heavy boots. 

Avalon had done decidedly the opposite—at the parties the days and nights after the war had been won, she had worn dresses and suits, florals and stripes, in bright colors and beautiful fabrics and almost every cut imaginable. Her beautiful rosy brown hair, which she had kept tied up in buns and ponytails and chignons, was now free to spill over her shoulders and forehead. 

Avalon was giddy when the balloon finally landed on the field again, her cheeks high with color and her hair windblown and curly. She clung onto Inez’ hand like a lifeline, her smile splitting her face in two. She was so beautiful, in the rosy light of the sunset. The sun’s dying rays painted her bronze and copper and gold. 

“Avalonya Mar-Keteth,”  Inez said, her palms sweating under her gloves. “I—I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Avalon’s warm eyes turned to Inez, and she pushed a stray curl behind her ear. “Inez?”

Inez’s fingers scrabbled in one of her coat pockets, closing around a box she had painstakingly whittled in her spare time. It had started as little projects to keep her hands from shaking—needlepoint and darning, knitting and woodwork. 

She tried again, sinking down to one knee. She disbalanced and almost fell over, somehow managing to laugh. The sound echoed around her in the empty field—the balloon behind her, Avalon and the sinking sun in front of her, Avalon bathed in fiery light.

“Avalonya Mar-Keteth,” she managed to say, opening the little wood box. Inside was a simple vintage gold band—Inez’ mother’s. “You’ve—I can’t find the words to explain how much you mean to me, how much I love you, how you make my heart feel.” her heartbeat was a caged animal, fluttering in her throat and chest. 

Avalon covered her mouth with her hands, her honey eyes welling up. “Will you—” Inez’ throat went dry, “Will you marry me?”

And then slowly, almost imperceptibly—Avalon shook her head.

“No—Avalon—” Inez’ eyes welled up with hot tears, her cheeks burning. She stumbled through a verse of Onisfrian poetry, but her voice died on her lips. She had a speech—Inez had a speech, but her lips wouldn’t work, her voice was dead—

“Why—why not?” Inez finally managed to say, her eyes wide and a heartbeat from spilling over with tears. “I—we were in love, Avalon, we—I love you—”

Avalon’s ears burned redder than her hair as she dipped her head. “I guess we had two very different plans for this evening,” was the only thing she said, before turning to head away. “This is—this is our end, Inessa. Every story comes to an end, even ours.”

Inez hadn’t realized that she’d started to cry. “You said it was a great love!” she protested, scrubbing her tears away with her sleeve. “One for—one for the ages, Avalon. You—you can’t even give me a reason.”

Avalon’s honey-brown eyes were downcast as she turned away. She didn’t bother to say anything else, just tuck her hands into her pockets and walk away. Inez wanted to dig a trench and bury herself in it. 

Inez watched Avalon go. Love had slipped beyond her reaches—past the Unsea dividing Arstrich and Kenlan, past the lines that divided the two of them that they had the nerve and the desperation to cross. 

They had survived a war together. They had lived when so many others didn’t—the two boys, those two unlucky boys who deserved so much better than they got—so many of Inez’ friends, her sister and her family, the commanding officer who had given Inez a chance when her family was gone and her village burned to the ground. 

It was—it was imperceptible, the way it had quietly unravelled. Maybe it was because it lasted that Avalon wanted to tear it down, this lioness of a girl who did what so many others only ever dared to do. Inez’ fingers found her mother’s wedding band, the gold of the ring and the three clumsily cut diamonds. 

She turned away as the sun sank below the horizon, painting the empty field the color of blood. 

Inez had lived through a war that took everything away from her—her family, her sense of humanity, the innocence of never seeing a life ebb away underneath her hands. 

Her mind flickered to the words she’d whispered to the soldier boy during the last moments of the war—we live and we love and we lose. That’s what living means.

She could live through this. She had to. 

[i-didnt-know-what-to-put-here]

The Girl with Golden Hair and the Boy with Blue Eyes.

@linerwriter this brainthing came after reading you “Trust” story. It’s different and I hope your happy because I love that piece of writing. 

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After the Calamity was defeated, he and Zelda traveled to the home of the Skeikah to assure them that they were still alive. They didn’t stay long, as Impa had wanted Zelda to take over and rule a people which had no need for her. Zelda didn’t want to rule either. They left and made their way to the Great Plateau, isolated amongst nature, away from others. They fixed up the cabin in the woods, made it nicer and more long term livable. They lived in harmony together like that for months, and occasionally one or both of them would venture down to the stables to keep up with news of the world. People started to take about them. A girl with golden hair and a smile like the sun, who held off the Calamity for 100 years so her people my survive, and a boy with blue eyes and heart like no other, who would wander the world giving aid and comfort to any. 

They loved their new life. They were the ones who controlled it. No kings or knights or people to force them to things they never wanted. No destiny asides from the one they make for themselves. A fallen Queen of Ruins and a Hero borne of the Wilds. All was well in their life-they-made-for-themselves until they came. 7 others who bore his face and name. They had arrived in their world a week ago and had followed the rumors. To the Great Plateau. Up to the top. To them. He and Zelda. “We need you help.” they pleaded. “We should have never been able to meet in life. Destiny calls you into service again.” If it weren’t for Zelda telling him to go and save the past so the future might live, he never would have joined. So he picked up his dull, worn, chipped, rusted, muddied blade again and tucked a Silent Princess into her wheat golden hair, and told her with blue eyes so full of love and kindness, a promise that he would return, no matter what. So he left with these other hims, leaving a bittersweet parting on her lips. No matter how temporary or bittersweet, a parting is still a parting. 

[lupinepublishers]

lupine publishers| Economic Returns of Foliar Fungicides Application to Control Yellow Rust in Bread Wheat Cultivars in Arsi high lands of Ethiopia 

Wheat yellow rust caused by Puccinic Striiformis f. sp tritici is the most widespread and destructive disease of wheat, especially in the highlands of Ethiopia. Application of foliar fungicides are important mechanisms to control wheat yellow rust disease. The activity was conducted at two experimental sites Meraro and Bekoji in 2018 main cropping season, in order to determine net returns of  wheat  yields  from  the  application  of  fungicides.  The  aim  of  the  study  was  to  know  net  reruns  obtained  from  the  application  of  propiconazole  and  Thiophanate-methyl  310g/l  +Epoxiconazole  187g/l    fungicides  with  twice  application  frequency    in  four  bread wheat cultivars with different resistance level, being susceptible, moderately susceptible, moderately resistant and resistant including  Kubsa,  Danda’a,  Lemu  and  Wane  against  wheat  yellow  rust    respectively  in  2018.  The  positive  net  returns  at  Meraro,  12.66,  11.4,  8.39  and  7.65,  and  at  Bekoji  12.14,  11.4,  7.92  and  5.18  on  Kubsa,  Lemu,  Danda’a  and  Wane  (susceptible,  moderately  susceptible,  moderately  resistant  and  resistant  bread  wheat  varieties  by  the  twice  application  of  RexDuo  respectively.  Maximum  net return on fungicide application was obtained on the susceptible (Kubsa) variety $1164.98 ha−1 at Bekoji and $1215.13 ha−1     at Meraro and minimum net returns was observed on Wane (resistant) variety $ 5.18 ha−1 at Bekoji and 7.65 at Meraro experimental stations by the twice application of Rex®Duo. Epoxiconazole +Thiiophanate-methyl applied treatments were resulted the highest returns at the rate of 0.5l ha−1, but low net returns were observed on propiconazole applied treatments at a rate of 0.5l ha−1 at both location. From the study lower economic return at Bekoji was obtained due to dry climatic conditions which resulted in low rust severity as compared to Meraro obtained higher profitability to higher altitude with cooler climate, lower temperature, heavy dew and intermittent rains. This indicated that conducive climatic conditions to yellow rust disease development during the growing season, cultivar resistance, fungicide application frequency, plant growth stage, fungicide and fungicide application costs and the price of wheat determines the net return in fungicide application of wheat. The results from this study indicated that foliar fungicide applications to bread wheat cultivars can be profitable in twice application with sensitive to semi sensitive(moderately susceptible to susceptible)varieties; however, net loss can result if fungicide 

usts  caused  by  obligate  pathogens  of  wheat  are  yellow  rust  (Puccinia striiformis f. sp. tritici), stem rust (Puccinia graminis f.sp. tritici)  and  leaf  rust  (Puccinia  recondite  f.sp.  tritici)  which  infect  the foliage, stem and sometimes the spikes lost more than $5bilion in  each  year  .They  have  the  capacity  to  develop  into  widespread  epidemics and complex life cycles that involve alternate hosts and several  spore  stages  resulting  in  yield  losses  of  30-50%  sensitive  and  semi  sensitive  cultivars  and  57-97%  on    [1-8].  Wheat  stripe  rust, caused by Puccinia striiformis is one of the most widespread, destructive  and  an  emerging  serious  disease,  especially  in  cool  climates,  present  in  almost  all  the  wheat  growing  areas  and  a  formidable threat to global wheat production [2-6]. In Ethiopia Arsi, Bale and North shoa areas, are wheat mono cropping and the most prevalent to yellow rust disease epidemics which causes 57 to 97% of yield losses in sensitive and semi sensitive bread wheat cultivars [7,8] Application of foliar fungicides are important mechanisms to control wheat yellow rust and reduce yield losses. According to [9], [6] findings comparatively better yields were obtained on sprayed treatments rather than unsprayed treatments under experimental condition.   During   the   fungicide   application;   conduciveness   of   

environment  to  rust,  varietal  resistance,  effectiveness  and  timing  of fungicide application to be taken into consideration in reducing the disease severity and rate of epidemic development. Large scale commercial   and   government-run   wheat   farms   have   generally   chosen  to  plant  rust-susceptible  wheat  varieties  because  they  have a greater yield potential of 20%-25% and 36.6% -51.1% than rust-resistant  varieties  [5  and  8].  Wheat  grown  in  a  higher-yield  potential (highland) environment may be more likely to produce a yield response. Timely application of fungicides effectively prevents yield losses and further spread of the disease to the wheat production regions, and  potentially  huge  nationwide  yield  loss  was  avoided  through  use of fungicides [10]. Fungicide prices influence the decision of spraying  or  not  spraying.  However,  when  the  disease  severity  is  low, crop yield is usually not impacted. The benefit from fungicide applications in crop production is reflected in the returns of up to three  times  the  cost  involved  [11].  There  is  a  misconception  that  fungicides  are  used  to  get  a  “yield  bump”  but  most  crop  scientists  agree that fungicides simply protect yield potential. When disease severity  has  the  potential  to  reduce  crop  yields,  then  fungicide  applications may help to protect the crop from potential losses. On the other hand, if disease severity is low and there is minimal yield loss,  then  applying  a  fungicide  will  not  result  in  either  a  yield  or  economic advantage [12].  In the considerable studies researchers emphasized that there are a number of factors that farmers should consider   before   making   a   fungicide   spray   decision,   including   yield  potential,  wheat  price,  fungicide  cost,  and  disease  pressure.  Although  many  farmers  and  private  wheat  growers  spray  as  soon  as the rust occurred without considering economic threshold level of  the  disease  and  positive  net  return  on  the  economic  yield  of  wheat.  The  main  objective  of  this  research  was  to  determine  the  profitability of wheat yield using fungicides against yellow rust in  susceptible,  moderately  susceptible,  moderately  varieties  and  comparing with commercial relatively resistant wheat varieties. Materials and Methods The  study  was  undertaken  at  Kulumsa  Agricultural  Research  Center,   sub-stations   Bekoji   and   Meraro,   in   Arsi   highlands   of   South  Eastern  Ethiopia  during  2018  main  cropping  season.  The  experiment  was  conducted  at  Meraro  and  Bekoji  experimental  stations from the Kulumsa Agricultural Research Center substations during  the  main  cropping  season  of  2018  at  south  eastern  part  of  Ethiopia.Treatments and Experimental design The  experiments  were  laid  out  in  randomized  complete  block  design  (RCBD)  in  factorial  arrangement  with  three  replications.  Four bread wheat cultivars which were selected based response of reaction  being  Kubsa  susceptible  (Sensitive),  Danda’a  Moderately  susceptible  (semi  sensetive),  Lemmu  moderately  resistant  and  Wane  relatively  resistant  to  wheat  yellow  rust  and  released  from  Kulumsa  Agricultural  Research  Center,  Ethiopia  were  used  (Table  1). All the varieties were sown at the recommended rate of 100 kg seed ha-1 to six row plots of 2.5m length and 1.2m width with 20 cm inter-row  spacing.  The  gaps  between  plots  and  replications  were  1m and 1.5m, respectively. Spreader rows consisting of a mixture of highly susceptible bread wheat varieties of Morocco, Kubsa and PBW 343  were  planted  in  each  border  row  in  order  to  ensure  uniform  spread of inocula and sufficient disease development. Experimental plots  were  fertilized  with  Diamonium  phosphate  (DAP)  and  Urea  (41kgN/46kg P2O5ha-1) just at planting and weeds and insect pests were controlled as management recommendations 

Fungicide and application frequency Wheat plots were sprayed with recently registered and widely used  fungicides  viz.  Rex® Duo  (Epoxiconazole  +  Thiophanate-methyl)   and   Tilt   250EC*(propiconazole)   at   0.5lt   product   ha-1in   250lha-1 water   using   Manual   Knapsack   Sprayer   (Table   2).   Foliar  fungicides  and  its  application  costs  were  used  to  analysis  profitability on the spraying of fungicides to four bread wheat cultivars  (Table  3).  The  average  price  of  bread  wheat  cultivars  were  calculated  from  data  provided  by  the  Ethiopian  Agricultural  and  commodity  Marketing  Service  and  average  local  fungicide  prices used were obtained by assessing local retailers and chemical manufacturers.  Since  knapsack  fungicide  application  was  agreed  by  contract  between  the  grower  and  the  commercial  applicators  so   Adjuvant   and   surfactant,   and   machinery   and   machinery, maintenance  costs  were  omitted  because  of  the  wide  variation  in  their  uses  and  costs.    Net  return  from  fungicide  application  was  calculated as follows: Rn = YiP− (Fc + Ac) Where, Rn is the net return from fungicide application ($ ha-1); Yi is yield increase from fungicide application (kg ha-1), obtained by subtracting the yield in the Control treatment from the yield in the fungicide treatments; P is the wheat price ($ kg-1); Fc is the fungicide cost ($ ha-1) and Ac is the fungicide application cost ($ ha-1). At Bekoji, profitability from the application of fungicides varied from $7ha-1 in Lemu variety treated with one application of Tilt to 1165$ha-1 in Kubsa variety that received twice application of Rex®Duo  (Table  4).  At  Meraro,  net  return  after  fungicide  application  ranged from 88$ha-1   in Danda’a variety treated once with Tilt to 1215$ha-1  in  Kubsa  variety  treated  twice  with  Rex®  Duo  (Table  5). From the application of fungicides profitability of economic yield in bread wheat varieties at Bekoji and Meraro in experimental stations,  similarly  showed  variability  in  net  returns  from  location  to location (Table 4 and 5).The lower profitability at Bekoji can be  attributed  to  dry  weather  which  resulted  in  low  disease  levels  as compared to Meraro obtained higher profitability to higher elevation  with  cooler  climate,  lower  temperature,  heavy  dew  and  intermittent rains. In Meraro, yellow rust on bread wheat is first observed ate early seedling stage with optimum urediniospores in mid belig or early mehar season (June to November). The positive net return can be strongly influenced by the Market price of wheat on applying fungicides to control wheat yellow rust. The expected yield  increase  of  2967  kg  ha−1  representing  51.1%  of  the  yield  potential  and  a  fungicide  and  application  cost  of  $96  ha−1,  the  net  return was $1164.98 ha−1 at a wheat price of $0.425kg−1 compared to  $497.7  ha−1  t  at  the  same  wheat  price  of  $0.425kg−1.  Therefore  twice  application  of  Rex®  Duo  or  Tilt  250  EC  immediately  after  appearance  of  rust  disease  on  wheat  varieties  at  15  days  interval  are   effective   in   controlling   the   disease   and   achieving   higher   economic   return.   The   results   indicated   that   lower   economic   return  at  Bekoji  was  obtained  due  to  dry  climatic  conditions  which resulted in low level of rust severity as compared to Meraro obtained  maximum  profitability  to  higher  altitude  with  cooler climate,  lower  temperature,  heavy  dew  and  intermittent  rains.  This findings are convenient with work done by [13,14 and 15] indicated that conducive climatic conditions to yellow rust disease development   during   the   growing   season,   cultivar   resistance,   fungicide application frequency, plant growth stage, fungicide and fungicide  application  costs  and  the  price  of  wheat  determines  the  net  return  in  fungicide  application  of  wheat.  According  to  [16]  findings doubling and tripling the grain price of bread wheat had the  highest  impact  on  the  net  return  from  fungicide  application,  followed by increasing fungicide cost. In conclusion, profitability is dependent on many factors, including weather conditions favorable to disease development, the level of disease intensity, efficacy of the fungicide applied in controlling each specific disease, fungicide and fungicide application costs and rates, fungicide application timing, cultivar resistance, cultural practices and the price of wheat.

Conclusion and RecommendationWheat  yellow  rust  caused  by  puccinia  striiformis  f.sp.tritici,  is  the most widespread, destructive and formidable threat especially in  cool  climates,  present  in  the  highland  wheat  growing  areas  of  Ethiopia.  Now  a  day,  possibility  of  producing  new  resistant  variety is difficult due to complexity of yellow rust and continually evolvement  of  new  races.  In  East  Africa  the  current  commercial  wheat cultivars including recently released varieties are susceptible to the new races and not possible to grow a profitable yield of wheat without application of fungicides to the private sectors, farmers and government run wheat growers in Ethiopia. To obtained positive net returns, environmental factors, varietal response to rust, efficacy and  timing  of  fungicide  application,  cost  of  fungicide,  wheat  price  and agricultural practices should be taken into consideration.  Our results  and  similar  studies  suggested  that  application  of  fungicide  specifically diazoles like Epoxiconazole  +  Thiophanate-methyl,  at  hotspot  areas  to  yellow  rust  province  on  sensitive(susceptible)  and semi sensitive(intermediate) cultivar is beneficial and can constitute a significant part of stripe rust managing program. So research suggested to wheat growers to use effective fungicides on susceptible and intermediate varieties in the golden time of stripe rust occurrence, able to control wheat yellow rust to yield and net return increase.Acknowledgments Ethiopian  institute  of  Agricultural  Research  (EIAR)  is  kindled  thanked  for  the  financial  support  of  the  study  and  Kulumsa Agricultural   Research   Center   is   acknowledged   for   conducting   experimental   study.   The   all-round   support   provided   by   the   wheat  rust  research  team  especially,  to  Tamirat  Negash,  Getenesh  Demissie  and  Askinew  solomon  indebted  and  highly  appreciated

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[livayl]

On a hazy autumn morning

This is a sneeze-/sick fic I wrote to introduce my two modern day OCs: Alexej who´s in his early thirties and a concert harpist and his husband Evan a former marine in his forties. :3 So no fantasy this time but a bad cold, sneezes and a bit of domestic fluff/care taking. :) Also a mess warning for the sneeze parts towards the end. (Never know how to actually classify this but nothing worse than in my “things I think of” stuff. It´s there but not very descriptive) 

It was still early in the morning and relatively quiet. Peacefully so almost at least if one could ignore the unusual deep, breathless and congested snoring that resounded inside the small flat. Outside the chill autumn air was still hazy with mist and damp with frosted dew that had sprinkled the windows. The newly rising sun fought for supremacy with the seemingly ever present opaque shroud which could only be displaced temporarily these days. Bright rays of bronzed golden light illuminated the thick swirls of mist. They only managed thinning it enough to reveal an alley of old, widely branched maple trees whose leaves flashed auburn and rust red in an entity of white.

Evan watched from inside his cozy and warm apartment as a strong gust of wind made the big yet pliable branches wave and sway. His steel grey eyes followed the instantly loosened clouds of five-pointed leaves tinted in different layers of gleaming reds. They drifted and danced sluggishly through the fog, flashed their splendor until slowly gliding out of view. The sight was eerily pretty yet Evan would have preferred to indulge in it while dreaming instead of blurring it with tears created by a jaw-cracking yawn. Being up this early on a free day and after an almost sleepless night should have been rewarded with a bit more. He stifled another yawn against the rim of his mug and drowned its remains with a last stream of lukewarm coffee. The pleasantly bitter taste and aromatic smell managed to linger for a few moments longer.

Evan rubbed over his rather rugged, angular face, neatly buzzed head and full beard while pondering what would be more alluring: Another round of news reading followed by a nap on the small couch or a hot shower. The shower won the uneven match easily. Could have been a different outcome if it had rivaled with his big, comfortable bed. But Evans younger husband did strictly refuse sharing a sleeping place or other close quarters whenever he happened to fall ill- which was the case much more often than it should have been. Well, Evan unyielding insisted that his ill yet much smaller partner should sleep in the bed and NOT on the couch. So maybe they were even in stubbornness.

His back protested and ached while getting up which made him cringe. He´d only been a civilian for some years after a prolonged time of military service yet sometimes the amount of subjective effeminacy seemed to be hinting on a couple more.

A series of wheezing, crackling coughs made him turn on his heels and wide awake immediately as he hurried to swiftly open the bedroom door. The sight of his husband bent forward and shaking with forcefully suppressed, barking coughs alarmed him instantly as he crouched down next to the bed. “Alex? Do you need your inhalator?” He asked and pried away a slender, slightly trembling hand to place the small device into it´s palm. The gesture made Alexej look up despite the rattling spasms. When Evan had previously thought that he felt tired his husband clearly looked the part:

Alex skin, naturally very pallid, almost translucent with a faint dapple of freckles above his nose, high set cheekbones and lightly concave cheeks, was flushed and sweaty with fever. His deep set yet big bright eyes were dulled and glazed over. Now only resembling a fading cyani flower instead of their usual glowing bouquet of blossoming blue. They were also puffy and even more embedded into shadows created by too much worry, work and an irregular sleep pattern. The latest tour of long concerts had worn the already small and dainty, almost fragile built harpist out and probably paved ways for this recent illness. His beautifully curved yet small lips were devoid of color as well- a stark contrast to his straight, narrow nose which was tinted an angry red and chapped around the edges. Lingering exhaustion had deepened the fine, usually barely visible lines in his face and hopefully only marred it temporarily.

“Ndo….” Alexej managed to choke out after the small yet intense fit- voice almost inaudibly hoarse and slurred with heavy congestion. His fine and wavy, chin length wheat blonde hair was widely ruffled, damp with cold sweat and underlined with premature silver. Yet Evan loved gently combing it back behind a feverishly heated ear while he caressed the others delicate and long fingers with his much bigger and calloused hand. “I´m sorry if I woke you up.” Alex mumbled around a few futile tries to suck in a bit of air through his hopelessly clogged nose. “You didn’t, no worries. Can I bring you something?” Evan asked and had to restrain himself from kissing the others slightly parted mouth. He´d probably refuse which would leave him longing even more. “No tha-hah-nk youhh- hheh-hih-hold on-” Alexejs already unsteady breath had started to quaver mid sentence. Evan watched as his husbands red rimmed nostrils flared irritably while his breath hitched. They revealed tender yet angrily blushed insides and a septum already slightly wetted with shining fluid. Alex light blonde lashes fluttered feathery as he fought to keep his tearing eyes open while his free hand went on a frantic search for his box of tissues. Evans own did find it a bit earlier though and gathered a whole bunch of them right in time to gently cup them around his husbands gasping mouth. A small hand gripped his own with surprising force and pressed the protective barrier closer to his down turned lips and shaking nose as he surrendered:   “hhh-heh-hhiih-PTZSSCH-hieh!- hheh-hah-TSSSCHHiuh!-AH´PTZSSCH-iiiew! unngh snfff" The sneezes had been unusually rough and tortuously teasing with their build ups that made Alex face scrunch and contort helplessly in rhythm of his frantically rising chest. They also were richly accompanied by moisture and spray worth of a restless night with congestion. It had not only been audible but also burst steamingly through the thin barrier and had managed to heat Evans skin.

Alex rather frail body had been at complete mercy of their exceptional force as he shook with each one and would have tumbled over if not steadied by his husband. He looked tired and teary eyed as he finally emerged from the sodden cluster of tissues. Still too dazed, feverish and breathless to feel shame or the traces of moisture still lingering around his nose and chin.

"Bless you, angel.” Evan simply replied while plucking a new bouquet of tissues.

“Ndoh- let me-” Alex tried but was shushed effectively by the cloudy fabric and even softer touch that gently cleaned his now deeply blushed face.

“Jesus… How did you get it on your cheek?” Evan could not help but snort a bit with amusement. It accomplished the impossible and made Alexejs fair skin turn into an even deeper shade of red.

“Don´t do that, I´m gross!” the younger man finally managed to say and gathered his remaining strength to pull away a still caressing hand.

Evan could not resist any longer and planted a gentle, soft kiss on Alex forehead. He tasted salt, bitter sweetly radiating warmth and that special, tingling aftertaste so delightfully unique to the other.

Alexej shivered with pleasure at his husbands surprisingly soft lips and coarse yet mellow rub of beard against his overheated skin.

He snuffled and tried rubbing the persistent tickle out of his nose that managed to squish and squelch wetly with the massaging motion.

“Don´t be stubborn. Let me stay and take care of you. I can´t sleep much outside anyways.”

“But you´ll get sick, too.” Alexej mumbled and bit his lower lip to give a contrast to the again rising tickle burning through his swollen sinuses.

Evan slowly, tenderly kissed the arch of his husbands delicately trimmed brows.

“I´ll be extra careful…” He breathed and let the tiny, soft hairs tickle his lips.

“But you-” Alexej really wanted to argue or at least revel in the sweet fondle and stroking breaths for a bit but could hardly concentrate as his own grew erratic again. The tickle had quickly grown big and urgent enough to crumble the last pieces of control while demanding his immediate attention.

“Hhhold on, I hah-ve tosneeze-” he gasped out as his eyes closed against his will once more and nostrils opened widely.  

The harpist had barely time to avert his head and hide the snarling grimace behind a hastily raised forearm:  “Hhh-hhiieh-IZZSSSCH-iieew! hhah-APTSSCHiieh! huh-heh-YISSSSCH-iuh!” Building faster, more easily this time but no less desperate and urgent the sneezes had left his shirt copiously wet and him slightly dizzy. Alexej could not help but cringe at the damp feeling tickling his skin and big wet spots distinctively visible on his light grey sweater.

“Here sweetheart. Bless you.” Evan said kindly, this time offering the tools for a much needed clean up instead of doing so himself.

“But I?” He then asked once Alex had finished off with an extensive and crackling nose blow.

“…. You made me sneeze at your hand. That´s not being careful.” He replied groggily and slumped back into a pile of propped up pillows. Those last outbursts seemed to have sapped the last bit of his much restricted strength.

“And you just did so all over yourself. Both of us can be washed.” Evan pecked a quick, teasing kiss on his husbands lips.

“Let me start with myself and come back with some tea, meds and breakfast. And then we´ll try to get some sleep.”

While left alone in the room all drowsy and floating with fever Alexej could not help but feel relieved and comforted knowing his love would return and this time also stay.