#a couple prompts are recycled from last time

[gayeddieagenda]

scene prompt game - 41: sitting close and knees touching + 😈🍻🎇

for @eddiesgaymustache <3

--

“Whoa,” Buck said. “Someone’s late.”

He tilted his head back to take in the burst of light as the firework exploded overhead. Midnight had come and gone a while ago. The bar wasn’t empty yet, but it had been clearing out slowly, since the countdown and the cheering and the champagne an hour and change ago.

Hen and Karen left minutes after midnight, barely giving Buck enough time to kiss them both on the cheek. Bobby and Athena didn’t even wait for midnight; Athena announced they were celebrating on central time, kissed her husband, and said good-bye. Chimney and Maddie lasted slightly longer, but only because Buck kept trying to buy Maddie drinks and whining when she tried to remind him she had a kid to pick up from the Lees’ in the morning.

Buck and Eddie hadn’t made a move to leave.

“The year’s still new, I guess,” Eddie said.

Buck looked at him. Another firework soared through the sky and Buck watched it burst in the reflection in Eddie’s eyes.

They were the first two to the bar. After their shift let out in the afternoon, Buck drove himself home, then to Eddie’s after a shower and changing into his outfit for tonight. Eddie wasn’t dressed when Buck showed up, so Buck followed him around the house, helping him tidy and making sure Chris was actually packing his backpack for his sleepover, Buck in his dress pants and silky green button-up shirt and Eddie in his socks and t-shirt.

Buck didn’t remember the last time they had a New Year’s Eve off. The bar was Maddie’s idea, a cute rooftop bar she and Chimney found for a date night. Buck and Eddie showed up early, Eddie grabbing them a couple beers and Buck laying claim to the big booth in the corner. Eddie slid in to sit next to him, tilting one of the beers at Buck.

As the rest of the 118 and partners arrived, Buck and Eddie found themselves scooting closer and closer together to squeeze everyone in. By the time the countdown started, they were pressed together, shoulder to hip to thigh. Eddie bumped Buck’s knee with his when Buck made him laugh.

It was a fun, loud night. It was too hard for Buck or Eddie to get out of the booth once they were in it, so everyone kept bringing them drinks, more beer and complicated cocktails with fruit and umbrellas sticking out of them that Chimney insisted they try. They were a pair: Buck and Eddie, stuck together shoulder to toe, served the same drinks and answering questions for each other, Buck explaining the fight with Eddie’s neighbors about the recycling bins and Eddie answering when Karen asked why Buck texted her asking what the deal was with some article about the Webb telescope (Chris was looking for a science project).

And when everyone started to filter out, Buck and Eddie didn’t make a move to separate from each other.

Eddie knocked his knee into Buck’s. It wasn’t a particularly cool night, but Buck leaned into the warm line of Eddie’s body against his anyway.

Buck bumped his knee back. “Are you tired?”

“Nah,” Eddie said. “Not really.”

“Me neither,” Buck said.

It was a late night, but they had a lot of late nights together. Sitting in the loft at the station and waiting for something, anything to happen. Driving to a night call, when it was late enough for the traffic to finally take a break for the day. Sitting on Eddie’s couch, credits rolling across the screen, playing chicken with who would admit they needed to go to sleep first.

“I can’t believe they all went home,” Eddie said. He nodded at the empty chairs around the table without taking his eyes off Buck.

“They’re all old,” Buck said. He pressed his knee into Eddie’s again. “Not like us, right?”

Eddie laughed, low and quiet in his throat. “Not like us,” he repeated.

His smile was small, a private thing between them. His eyes were lit up with something bright and amused. Buck couldn’t stop looking at them.

The only funny moment of the evening was when the New Year’s countdown finished and the (replay) of the ball dropping played on the bar TVs and the fireworks started exploding over the heads. It was only then that Buck remembered, with sudden, startling clarity, that he and Eddie were the only single ones at this little party. Everyone yelled zero and screamed and cheered and the couples at the table all turned to kiss each other—all except Buck and Eddie.

It was fine. It was minute, not even, and then Buck was smacking a kiss on Hen’s cheek and trying to get Chimney lean close enough for him to kiss him on the forehead. It was nothing, except, for a second, everyone was kissing and Buck and Eddie were looking at each other. For a second, it was just the two of them.

Kind of like now.

“It freaks me out sometimes,” Buck said quietly. “New Year’s. I get this feeling like, I don’t know. Like I’m waiting for something.”

“Waiting for wait?”

Buck shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Eddie was so warm against him. They were both in short sleeves. Their elbows were touching, bare skin on bare skin.

“The future?” Eddie offered.

“I guess,” Buck said. “Sometimes it’s like, I know it’s all right around the corner. But I don’t know what it is, or where the corner is, or how I’m going to get there.”

Eddie hums. “I get that,” he said. “Sometimes—sometimes, there’s things I want, but they feel so far away. I want them, and I don’t know how I’m ever going to get to them.”

“Things like what?” Buck said.

“Lots of things,” Eddie said quietly.

"Name one," Buck insisted.

Buck looked at him. Eddie looked back. Somewhere out in the bar, someone was calling for their friend over the music. Buck didn’t hear it at all.

"Buck," Eddie said quietly.

"Eddie," Buck parroted.

Eddie pressed his knee into Buck’s. He had a look in his eyes that Buck couldn’t read at all—unless he just meant what it looked like. Unless he just meant, this.

“What kind of things, Eddie?” Buck asked.

Overhead, a firework burst into sparkling blues and golds. Buck felt the boom in his chest. Eddie’s eyes flicked up to the sky, then back to Buck’s.

“Happy New Year, Buck,” he said, and leaned in.

Eddie kissed him. Under the dark sky of the new year, at an empty table an hour and change after midnight—Eddie set one hand on the back of Buck’s neck, gentle. 

Buck kissed him back. He got lost in it in a second, in all the places Eddie was touching him, the press of his fingertips on Buck’s neck and his mouth on Buck’s mouth and their knees, knocking close under the table. He’d chosen Eddie’s cologne for him tonight, a task Eddie set to keep him busy while he second-guessed his outfit, picking through the options on the top of his dresser until he found one he liked. Buck could smell it now.

Buck blinked his eyes open when they separated. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the bar had closed around them, or the sun had come up. They could have been kissing for an hour, two hours, a day. Instead, he just saw Eddie, looking back at him with something bright in his eyes.

Eddie took a slow breath in. Quietly, he asked, "Am I too late?"

“No,” Buck said. He didn’t know when this started—a week ago, six months, seven years, longer. He couldn’t remember when he’d started hoping for this, and he couldn’t imagine ever stopping wanting it. “Never.”

[monstersdownthepath]

Homebrew Horror: Beetle Knights

(art is of the Dung Beetle Knight, from Kingdom Death: Monster, from which this creature draws inspiration)

Also known in some circles as the Liegeon, Fauxladins, and most commonly Chevaliars, Beetle Knights are enormous insects which have, aided by magic-rich diets, evolved over countless years to fall into an incredibly strange niche in which they serve as guardians and allies to more intelligent creatures in order to hunt greater prey. That their human shape allows them to avoid scrutiny from true monster hunters is, itself, a benefit.

On their own, Beetle Knights are relatively dim creatures guided almost entirely by supernaturally potent instincts. They spend the majority of their lives wandering the world, following the roads and paths set by the races of man and elf from settlement to settlement as they slay and devour monsters and bandits they encounter, giving off the illusion of a reclusive, wandering knight keeping the roads safe. Their humanoid but elaborate appearance causes unquestioning townsfolk to mistake them for mercenaries, kingdom guards, and especially adventurers, which is their true goal; to be directed at a threat which requires a heavier hand than most civilians are capable of mustering, for it is these greater beasts on which the Beetle Knights prefer to feed.

Though fully capable of hunting down their own food in the wild, Beetle Knights have grown to enjoy the safety and comfort offered by living alongside humans, especially when it becomes time to reproduce. During breeding season, Beetle Knights require an enormous amount of food both for them and their young and thus must hunt greater prey with more magical energy within. To do so, the parents couple only briefly before going their separate ways and proceeding to infiltrate (or get accidentally brought into) existing adventuring groups as mysterious and stoic hirelings, secreting powerful mind-bending pheromones which cause these parties to behave more recklessly and require little prompting to go hunting dangerous prey. These pheromones also have an unusual effect on the mind of any nearby humanoid, causing them to rationalize or fully ignore their 'new hires' more inhuman traits, going so far as to interpret their chittering vocalizations (which already sound distressingly close to human speech) as motivating--if terse--speeches to drive them ever forward towards their goal. Most 'hosts' to a Beetle Knight rarely realize just what they've been traveling with the last few weeks until they part ways, the effects of the pheromones fade, and the adventuring party realizes that their 'hireling' didn't actually take any coin or gems in payment.

The only payment they require is food. Beetle Knights feed readily on almost anything they slay, using any lulls in adventuring to gorge themselves at every opportunity. Their inordinately powerful jaws can crush iron, to say nothing of bone, and their wandering habits leave them little room to be picky. They will even consume the equipment of their fallen foes and the iron alloys found in destroyed Constructs, ferrous metals recycled by their magic digestive system to reinforce their carapaces and mix with the resinous secretions they use to form their weapons and nests. Unattended magic items are consumed ravenously, the magic extracted from these items and used to fuel the growth of their young; their habit of eating overlooked loot is what normally brings them into conflict with their 'host' parties, which rarely ends well for the human adventurers.

Beetle Knights grow to be anywhere from 6 to 8 feet tall, and weigh around 300 pounds. Individual Knights can live upwards to 10 years, but most die much sooner through combat.

Beetle Knight CR 8 Neutral Medium Magical Beast Init +1 Senses: Darkvision 80ft, Scent, low-light vision, Perception +12 Aura: Pheromones (60ft, DC 19) ------ Defenses ------

AC: 24; touch 15; flat-footed 24 (+1 Dex, +10 natural, +4 deflection) HP: 100 (10d10+40) Fort +11 Ref +8 Will +6 Defensive Abilities: Ferocity, Chitin Plate; DR: 5/Magic and piercing; Immune: disease, poison, charms and compulsions. ------ Offense ------ Speed: 30ft, climb 20ft, fly 20ft (poor) Melee: +1 Resin Longsword +16/+11 (1d8+6/19-20), bite +15 (1d8+5), slam +10 (1d6+2); OR bite +15 (1d8+5), two slams +15 (1d6+5 plus grab) Special Attacks: Crushing Jaws, Pounce, Rend (2 slams, 1d6+7) ----- Statistics ----- Str 20, Dex 13, Con 18, Int 3, Wis 16, Cha 6 Base Atk +10; CMB +15 (+19 when Repositioning or Disarming); CMD 26 (30 vs Reposition and Disarming) Feats: Dirty Fighting, Improved Disarm, Improved Reposition, Greater Disarm, Greater Reposition Skills: Climb +17, Disguise +4, Fly +12, Perception +13; Racial Modifiers: +10 to Disguise checks to appear as a humanoid knight Languages: Common plus one local language (cannot speak). SQ: Resin Equipment, Pheromones ------ Ecology ------ Environment: Any temperate land Organization: Single, pair, or adventuring party (1~2 plus 3~4 travelers between 1st and 10th level) Treasure: Standard (+1 Longsword, magic and mundane items kept as a snack, monster parts, other treasure)

------

Combat: Beetle Knights fight with a startling amount of tactical knowhow. If fighting alongside a party, they attempt to maneuver opponents to allow any allies present to flank and move enemies into the line of fire of allies with reposition maneuvers. They will also work to prevent enemies from drawing too close to more fragile allies, and disarm enemies with dangerous weapons. If alone, it will attempt to disarm enemies whose weapons pierce its DR first, then focus on one enemy at a time until each are dead or have fled.

Morale: When part of a party, Beetle Knights fight fiercely and without fear of death, instinctually assured that their allies will at least attempt to keep them alive (whether or not this is truly the case). If alone, Beetle Knights flee when brought below 30 HP. In either case, the Knights will play dead at 0 HP or below and drag themselves to a safe location to recover.

------ Special Abilities ------

Chitin Plate (Ex/Su): The extremely tough shell of a Beetle Knight is woven with iron and hardened by consumed magical power. It is part of its body and thus does not impede its movement and cannot be sundered or broken. If it is struck with a targeted Dispel Magic (dispel check DC 21) or enters an Antimagic Field or similar, it loses its deflection bonus to its AC and its Damage Reduction for 1d4+1 rounds (or until it leaves the Antimagic Field).

Crushing Mandibles (Ex): A Beetle Knight's complex jaws can rip apart almost anything. Its bite attack is always treated as a primary natural attack, and ignores the first 5 points of hardness and/or Damage Reduction of any object or creature it encounters.

Pheromones (Su): A Beetle Knight produces a subtle mist of magical pheromones that it fans in every direction with subtle movement of its wings. Creatures breathing in these pheromones must make a DC 19 Fortitude save; those who fail see the Knight as a human (or whatever humanoid creature is most common to this area), parse its vocalizations as intelligible speech relevant to the current situation, and rationalize or ignore any strange behavior or blatantly inhuman actions it takes. It does not need to make Disguise checks to hide its nature against creatures under the effects of its pheromones. These effects last for 24 hours, unless a creature (typically its adventuring party) has spent a continuous 24 hours around the beetle, at which point the pheromones do not leave their system until one week has passed. A creatures who succeed their saving throw against the pheromones must make a new save each minute they spend in the aura.

Resin Equipment (Ex/Su): A Beetle Knight can weave digested magic and metal into its own resinous secretions, creating weaponry. With 2 hours of work, the Knight can create a resinous version of any simple melee weapon. With 6 hours of work, it can instead create a longsword or greatsword. The Knights prefer one-handed weapons, allowing them to deliver secondary slam attacks, and they are considered proficient with any resin weapon they make.

Any weapon created by a Beetle Knight is treated as a steel version of that weapon with a +1 enchantment bonus. Unless magically compelled to do so, they will only ever make weapons for themselves, and will consume damaged or broken ones to remake them. Beetles tend to only have enough resin to make three weapons a week.

------

Champion Beetles are Knights who, by consuming large quantities of magical foods from prosperous host parties and having been resurrected via magic at least once, undergo a second metamorphosis which takes a two weeks to finish, emerging from a gilded cocoon as a golden warrior with greater abilities than their common kin. Champion Beetles gain between 4 and 6 additional racial Hit Dice and typically favor taking feats which allow them greater proficiency with more combat maneuvers, usually Dirty Trick, Trip, or Sunder. In addition, they gain the following abilities:

Resistance 10 to one element, Resistance 5 to two other elements, typically the most common forms of elemental damage they've encountered on their journeys.

Increased DR from 5 to 10/Magic and Piercing.

+2 to their natural AC and +2 to their deflection bonus.

Their Resin Weapons gain an additional +1 enhancement bonus.

Increase each of their mental ability scores by 2.

Fast Healing 1.

Champion Beetles can live upwards to 40 years. There is a 10% chance that the larvae of Champion Beetles hatch with the Advanced simple template and 1d3 of the above abilities selected at random.

[dragonsgirl572]

For the writing requests

What about some platonic fluff with Salvage and Blurr?

Sorry for the lateness (and the shortness)! I was busy with CyberCember and finished today's prompt early so decided to finish this.

The setting sun warmed Salvage’s frame, bathing him in a soft, yellow-orange glow. He closed his optics, fiddling with a piece of metal he found in the scrapyard. It’s been a few weeks since he and Blurr moved to the future Rescue Bots Academy, and things have been going as well as you could think.

Blurr has actually been helping with the construction, only taking ten-minute breaks to race around the building. Velocitronians build up a lot of excess charge, way more than the average Cybertronian, so Salvage didn’t mind when Blurr did what he needed to do. At this pace, they could finish the Academy within a couple of years.

Speaking of which, he could hear footsteps walking towards and stopping right behind him.

“What are you doing on the roof, Sal?” Blurr questions, taking a seat next to his friend.

“Dunno,” Salvage replies, “Just… wanted a break.”

“I get ya,” The racer smiles, looking towards the now-darkening sky, “These last few weeks were… interesting, to say the least.”

There was silence for a long moment before Blurr sighed.

“I never really got the chance to say it, but I’m really sorry, Sal.”

Salvage looks over in mild shock, “What brought this up?”

“I haven’t properly apologized to you.” The racer explains, “It’s been weeks. Figured that it was about time.” 

Blurr looks away from the sky to meet Salvage’s optics. The recycler smiles, scoots over to his friend, and entraps him in a hug. The stars peeking out from the darkness seemed to shine brighter.

[laughingpinecone]

Yuletide 2024 letter

AO3: laughingpineapple

(treats welcome, AO3 settings a-ok in that respect)

Hello and thank you for writing for me! I hope you’ll have a great time playing with one of these wonderful canons!

I love a wide variety of fics - from strict gen to explicit, any tense, any format, big yes to all kinds of weird experiments up to and including external povs, found documents, interactive fiction etc. In general, I love canon expansion (showing new places/events/stuff in the setting or exploring those that are barely mentioned, just outside the borders), character work of all stripes (expanding on little quirks, putting characters in situations that complement/challenge certain personality traits of theirs, just… observing these weirdos as they live their lives, for better and for worse), magical realism and adjacent approaches. I eat up emotional moments with a spoon when a fic is character-centric (pining! danger! catharsis! hurt/comfort! the nitty-gritty of attraction!) and also love abstract stuff that at most touches shrimp emotions from afar: fake academia, a wider focus, inhuman povs, anything goes.

For both romance and friendships, I love it when it’s clear (not necessarily to the characters themselves, but to the narrative) what it is that they like about each other, how they get along, if and how they trust each other. The specificity of each dynamic! I also love it when the characters are very into something that makes sense for them, be it a hobby or a kink or whatever, even if it’s something I may not personally care for.

DNW: non-canonical rape, non-canonical children, focus on children, pregnancies, unrequested ships (background established canon couples are okay, mentions of parents and paired-up OC randos are okay!), canon retellings

In strict alphabetical order and with the usual disclaimer that shorter prompts don’t mean I want it any less, and that recycled prompts don't mean that I didn't print out and adore last years' gifts, just that my tastes are still the same as last year (there's also a few new prompts among the copypasted bricks!):

GHOST TRICK (Cabanela, Jowd)

All good for me: Jowd/Cabanela, Alma/Jowd/Cabanela, Alma/Jowd&Cabanela, any take that doesn't downplay/erase Alma (anything set during the game timeline or in alternate scenarios where they don't reset, for example!), or one-sided on Cabs' end while Jowd cares for him in a different way, or a Very (Very) Intense Friendship. Shippy or not, for me the draw is that these two are an unstoppable/immovable pair of burning determination and cosmic pessimism, big on loyalty (or at least big on being on the receiving end of it in Jowd's case) and being two difficult individuals who can and do get on people's nerves in record time but just fit with each other so easily… and ace the broccoli test like nbd. when they want to. which they might not. In Sissel's own words, whatever these two have got going on, warm or cold, it's "immeasurably deep" and I love to see that OTT dynamic play out in any way. If you want to include Alma, I'd be delighted, what's your take on her, there are so many great possibilities - could she be as cheerfully nihilistic as her husband, when push comes to shove? How would a 'boyfriend clothes' scenario work with the two or the three of them? Is there a supernatural/ghostly situation Jowd and Cabanela (and Alma? or Lynne? Sissel?) walk into that sees them well on top of their game thanks to their experience with the friendly ghost cat in the house? Or something eerie that's out of their wheelhouse even with Sissel's ghost tricks? What about a beach day but also a hiking trip, snowed in, anything? Dancing? Does Cabanela fail to remain spotless in any sense, ranging from oily bike repairs to more serious symbolic scenarios? Undercover shenanigans for either or both of them? Cabs and Alma bonding while Jowd is away? No-reset scenarios where Jowd, Sissel and the girls come back alive from the submarine (or never reach it, or whatever) but can't change the timeline, and a Cabanela who got shot and exploded has to maybe go live with Jowd and Kamila for a long while? Any kind of AU - different job, classic fantasy, classic sci-fi?

Ship-wise, Jowd falling in love fascinates me. Cabanela feels like he's been down bad for an impossible target for some time (one impossible target or two, conveniently married to each other) but for Jowd it all comes at such an awkward moment. He was ready to die and hurt them all posthumously (with the music box twist) to make it easier for them to leave him behind, and now what's this? He may not even have considered being into men before, what's that like, when does he realize that that's what's happening? Then it turns out his old friend laid down his life for him??? wild. and then he's ten years younger again, with a loving family and a Sparklesue of a friend-colleague-rival, and all these memories…

Fandom-specific DNWs: Cabanela-Yomiel reconciliations, everyone having memories of the old timeline

I SAW THREE CITIES - KAY SAGE (PAINTING)

As weird painting requests often go, I would like to read something that feels like this, and Kay Sage's oeuvre in general. The more surrealist the better. I am intrigued by the conversation between the title and the painting proper, and I'm open to any take on it: is there an unseen narrator who saw three cities in their travels, and the present image is either one of them or a homecoming, or across time and this is where we're at now? Or is the veiled structure/figure the pov? Is it possible to understand what's under the veil? Can you hear the wind blowing across the still landscape? And how can this get any stranger? Feel free to bring in elements from other paintings of hers, if that's where your idea leads you!

PÜHA JA ÕUDNE LÕHN | SACRED AND TERRIBLE AIR (Ignus Nilsen)

So there's this man of extremes (even for Elysium standards) who lived and fought for the burning belief in a better world, who left his homeland with a double middle finger and somehow, in a foreign land, grew devoted to a good man and his ideals and theory, their theory, and then lost him and their hope at once, and still tried to keep going, to begin anew, and failed there too, and even after his death in exile his beliefs did not waver. Always a live wire. He loved the world, every atom of it. A man whose devotion was so intense that it had to be erased from history, giving birth to a different legend instead. As a friend once put it, the spectre of communism is real and he's a bitter old queen.

I ship him and Mazov very much (dialectically, ideologically, handholdingly, through the ages and in the eternity of the pale, everything he says about the man sounds like the yearning of a sad old lover), and Mazov himself I love in every aspect. If you go down this path, I'm good with period-typical internalized homophobia being a thing in the fic. INTENSE HANDHOLDING ACTION very welcome. Also in-universe Mazov/Nilsen academic discussion, earnest sculptors, zines etc. But also: Ion Rodionov thirdwheeling into their life like a stray cat and supporting their idea even knowing that it would fail is amazing. The fact that Nilsen indulged his whims in their exile (the orchestra, really?) and presumably got his apocalyptic moniker from him (we know that it's because he warned people of the apocalypse) paints an interesting friendship to me, especially in the raw times after Mazov's death. The Zigi&Nilsen camping trip is a tragic delight and I'll always want more of that, and of Zigi himself, and of what Nilsen saw in him, and the other way round. The tragedy of that final mutual understanding of defeat - what led up to it, what companionship did they find in each other, hard as it was at times? Or what about the time Zigi spent with the Lund sisters while Nilsen went ballistic over teen girl mags, 'cause that sure was something canon felt the need to inform us of. As last year's gift showed, Khan could make for a very interesting pov, with his special interest in disappearances and Ignus being an disappearance himself as per Lilienne. Khan is also something of a dialectical materialist himself, unless he's a poser who's only wearing the glasses for clout. Would he get a grumpy ghost visit too? Dobreva and Abadanaiz don't deserve the party misogynist, but here they are and here he is. How did they handle him? I think their stated dynamic of burning star and satellite is also probably true for Mazov and Nilsen to some degree - any fun parallels? Voronikin can also be an interesting foil, as the resident Dude Who'd Chuck Himself Into The Pale (and come back mostly in one piece). What were Ignus' thoughts about the pale by the time the SRV was up and running? Rodionov was looking for the Trench, what did he think of all that? And rounding up the tagset once again IT'S AMBROSIUS WITH A STEEL CHAIR. I am incredibly fascinated both by Nilsen's (and Zigi's!) opinions on the ruling Innocence, and by the possibility that bb Ambrosius may have met all the future heads of the Revolution when he was being tutored by Ion, and/or that the failure of the Revolution may have been a turning point in his beliefs. Outside the tagset, anything with Sport is bound to be terribadamazing bc Sport, and Ukhotomsky was around as another of Mazov's close friends but it feels to me like he was the exact opposite of Ignus so that could make for interesting scenarios.

Some prompts: does his consciousness in the pale (subjectively either before or after his adventure with Zigi) meet some interesting people à la Nadia n Frantiček the Brave - "5 historical figures he met who are not Mazov + 1 long-awaited reunion" sort of thing? Some examples of Teachers Being Like That feat. him and Rodionov? Sitcom-tier shenanigans with the upper echelons of the revolution + that kid with the rancid vibes that Ion brought in? In case Nilsen's canon lil treatise on "early homebrewing" referred to tabletop homebrewing, what did their gaming look like - was it an early form of roleplaying proper or, like, reconceptualizing chess or Monopoly? What about any of his exiles, given how he was first thrown out of Katla, then Graad, then they tried to kill him in Samara too and he spent his last days in exile and according to a throwaway line he counts as one of Elysium's great disappearances (does Khan have some fun intel on all that, or maybe Ulv)? Did the various pale crossings mess him up? What about the crossing of the lungs of Graad, toward the interisolary pale, with the blood of thousands of prisoners still fresh behind them? Or how'd he take his hut era, when did those feral months in the polar wilderness happen in his timeline, what kind of weirdness can we expect above Elysium's polar circle, did he have Mazov to return to in Graad and just how emotional can we make this reunion? Any scenario like "idk, Kras Mazov was like 70% of my impulse control"? What was it like, gaining consciousness in the near pale and becoming more than Zigi's dialectic frenemy (or was there always a true spark of him in there)? Did they feel uniquely cut off from the pale that surrounded them? Did they ever talk about Ambrosius? Did he ever pull off some other godly rhetoric stunt like reverting the pale through stubbornness and conviction alone? Some identity musings based on all three heads of the revolution going under new names, and considering them nom de guerre? Something about Ignus' troubled relationship with his homeland - as it goes, he fought hard to deny the Vaasan allegations and Vaasa fought harder to deny the him allegations? What about his blacksmithing skills (and what makes one an apocalyptic blacksmith, specifically - how do these two things go together)? Or any of his numerous Opinions which he penned on so many topics? Or just slap him (in person or cytoplasmically, 's not like death or censorship could stop him) in a Situation that has some weird worldbuilding in it? He's so extra at all times! He's fun to put in Situations. Genuinely any Nilsen/&Mazov or Nilsen & anyone else in the tagset would fill me with glee.

NUCLEAR EDIT AFTER THE LATEST ROUND OF "MARTIN LUIGA SAYS THINGS ON TWITTER":

...make of this what you will. Add the most heartbreaking yearning to their pale trekking days. Make it work somehow, ass or no ass. I think there's something of Mazov in Zigi (by way of there being a lot of Mazov in Harry, and a lot of Harry in Zigi). Let them be guarded and harsh and ironic about this, or not. I don't even KNOW, I didn't have this on my bingo card.

Fandom-specific DNWs: "magpies" and the idea that the pale is generated from novelties. that reddit theory about Målin being pregnant with Zigi's child. I'm open to a variety of options for the sisters' disappearance but should it come up I would prefer if it were their own decision to vanish, a decision dictated by some kind of (non-bourgeois) ideology, and for Zigi to be loyal to all four of them. I would also prefer Nilsen's big hangup about his fellow communists to follow the translation which sees them as "prey" rather than "beasts". And please, do not excuse his grandiose shittiness. The old coot's misogyny is what it is and ditto the war crimes, etc.

PYRE (Volfred Sandalwood)

I’m so charmed by this smug revolutionary tree it’s not even funny. Make up any situation in which he can do his thing and I’ll be happy - be sort of full of himself but also sort of rightfully so, pragmatic to a fault except when he’s overwhelmed by grief, bearing the burden of taking care of the practical side of an impossible shared vision (and seeing it fail before it started and eventually picking up the pieces and starting again), long-winded and very much in love with his voice (also rightfully so) and also that’s what history professors are like, extremely charismatic, a mind reader with a higher calling which is always a dangerous combo when it comes to maybe going a step too far. I love this story set at the end of a cycle and I’m enamoured with characters who have enough historical awareness to acknowledge it and see that it’s up to them to bring about a new era. Canon’s bittersweet idealism is catnip to me.

I love him with Tariq who seems to be as charmed by him as I am (the shy, vague title of Volfred’s theme combined with its James Bond vibes are a killer combo. Tariq please) and with Oralech who’s maybe the only guy who can go “Volfred no” when needed. I love his friendship with his oldest friend Bertrude with all the camaraderie it entails, and with all the Nightwings, really. Volfred & Hedwyn! & Rukey! & Pamitha! & ae!!! There may be complicated feelings there that I'd be very interested in seeing explored, but when it comes to the Nightwings, I'd rather see a reconciliation, a positive resolution, or at least a narrative that understands both sides.

I would also be interested in seeing him face people from the other triumvirates in more or less friendly situations - generally sticking close to canon for the level of danger they might pose. Volfred & Dalbert bonding and fanboying the Scribes on one end; Udmildhe maybe being a real actual threat on the other end, with Extreme Sap Drama Volfred VS Manley somewhere in the middle - Volfred haaates having to deal with Manley and what is fanfiction for if not bothering our faves? Or Volf VS Brighton for that matter, with more intense levels of annoyance and pomp and juicy ideological clashes. In these cases I wouldn’t be interested in a reconciliation, and I don’t sympathize with Manley nor Brighton but I do find them very funny and good characters in their own right and I’m just here with popcorn for the catfight. How’d it go if he had to spend some time with Ignarius? Or Celeste? And of course when it comes to the True Nightwings, things get loaded - Volfred/Oralech-wise, does Volfred get a treacherous "oh no he's super hot now" moment sneaking in between the piles of complicated feelings and hurt and confusion?

As general Volf prompts: revolutionary bonding, be it with Oralech (early on or after everything), or awakening Some Things in Tariq, or Bertie or anyone else who'll share that vision. SMUG revolutionary bonding, him being the way he is? What was he like before his exile, what did his underground political engagement look like? Downside ending being a strange kind of freedom for someone who's been driven all his life. Opinions on the Scribes! Overly detailed, strong Opinionssss on tiny details like you'd expect from your average academic, and whom is he talking to? Someone who agrees? Someone who knows more than him (Tariq, ae…)? Someone who hates those guys' guts (Sandra, Oralech…)? He’s a natural schemer, does he naturally assume that everyone else is also scheming 24/7? Does anyone (my bet’s on Pam) find out that he literally graded the Nightwings’ usefulness to the Plan? Is he a chain smoker or is it a one pipe a day kind of deal?

I don’t have specific headcanons about Sap biology; if you do, please tell me all about them. With or without Oralech’s or Tariq's involvement (whose biology is probably also delightfully weird). Capital-letter-Reading can also be involved! What’s it like to mind-meld with the actual moon, or to get permission from the guy who spent like six years hating your guts?

Long shot: Elysium AU? get some star-and-antlers on this guy one way or another?

Fandom-specific DNWs: Oralech dead, Volfred and Oralech split end (I’m good with either topside or downside ending, as long as they're on the same side), Ignarius/Jodariel, Tariq/Celeste, ae/Almer (I know, I know, luck in canon ships, that's me 😅 love Hedwyn/Fikani tho!). The Reader being a central character in the fic.

SEA OF STARS (Garl, Resh'an)

It's like this game grabbed the two character types that have been catnip to me since time immemorial and put them both in the party at once. Here's the guy so chill and loving that you can't believe he's for real! Here's the blue-orange-morality immortal symbolically hidden by layers of fabric! And then Garl dies in a way that is played up to its rightful max, his absence is felt so keenly, and then he even gets to come back with a satisfying sleight of hand! And everyone celebrates him! And the artbook says his elemental meddling made him multiclass as Ovate, which is a verrrry intriguing statement all things considered. And on Resh'an's side of things, he's so caught up in distant flickers of hope, calculations, regrets across so many worlds... and then he gets to hang out with mortals, to exist in the moment, to make friends for a short while, before the weight of his past mistakes (and the complicated push and pull of his Basic Ex(tm)) drags him away again.

I'd like to see anything that plays up the potential odd lopsided friendship dynamic between these most rooted and least rooted characters. Garl who knows that a good soup and a hug will drag two fledgling gods back to earth for a day, and who may grow into something weirder himself, a link to the forgotten past of this world and perhaps a new future... and on the other hand Resh'an who's barely really there at any given moment, who's got the weight of worlds and timelines on his shoulders, and who's properly touching grass for the first time in so, so long. Missing moment is good. Postcanon is good. Anywhere in either world, the Archives, or make up someplace weird. Touching upon the fact that Garl's whole death and resurrection was all on Resh'an, and very blue-orange morality of him, can also be interesting.

I'm very keen on Valere and Zale quietly shedding their mortality as the plot goes on in an understated ascension... ...except for Garl. They're still Valere and Zale when they are with him. I'm also familiar with The Shopkeeper Stand-Up Special Messenger.

STALKER (1979) (worldbuilding)

I'm open to seeing things through the pov of the titular stalker, his daughter, Porcupine, an OC stalker and/or OC client(s) thereof, or even something more abstract. Anything in the tone of the movie will make me happy. A little expansion in any direction. The Professor-Writer dichotomy in the movie is great but the symbolic potential of the Room is so huge, so overflowing, that I think one could come up with more scenarios that resonate well with it. How does anyone relate to that? Likewise, that thin surreal line, so thin that at time it feels like it's nothing at all, surely has room for more routes, more strange happenings, or just the shadow of them.

Side note, I have not yet read Roadside picnic nor is it likely that I'll manage to read it before Yuletide this year, so any deep cut refs will sadly go unnoticed by me. But you're of course welcome to add them as long as they're not overt spoilers!

[authortobenamedlater]

Chyler allowing herself to make a mistake in front of Tom from the vulnerability prompts? I feel like she's a big time perfectionist.

Also just gonna throw this out there, but "begging them to stay" sounds like it has great potential for some angsty injury feels with a Spartan pairing like John/Cortana or Fred/Kelly.

From these prompts.

Well this took me forever and ever to finish. And that was just the first prompt.

I had a more serious response for this, but I wanted to write something for this mini-AU ❤️

xxxxxx

“Tom? You—hold on.”

Tom sat with a bemused smile as the video feed in front of him shook and jumped to the soundtrack of a small child’s squawking. He’d finally managed to secure a real-time video call to his family on Luna, and for the first time in months he could watch the chaos unfold without a time delay.

“OK.” Chyler set her device on the counter. “You there?” She leaned down into the shot.

“I am.” Tom raised the volume on his headset and made sure the noise canceling function was on. Even so, it was hard to block out the constant drone of Flying Fortress’s engines and the other conversations going on around him in the room colloquially dubbed “the phone booth.” “Should I ask how things are going on the home front?”

“It’s—Kate! What is that? Oh, just Teddy. OK. Yeah, we’re good.” Chyler answered.

“Sounds it,” Tom observed dryly.

“Kate! Honey!” Chyler picked up the tablet and started walking across the tiny apartment. “Want to say hi to Dada?”

The camera display flipped around and Tom saw his daughter sitting on the floor playing with a brown teddy bear. “Princess Kate!” He greeted.

“It’s Dada!” Chyler said.

“Dada!” The two-and-a-half-year-old dropped the toy crawled toward the screen. Her dark curls flopped over her eyes.

Tom ducked his face out of view. “Now, where’s that adorable Kate?” He sat up and feigned surprise. “Kate!” He placed his hand in front of the camera. “No Kate!” He moved his hand away. “Kate!” He covered the lens again. “No Kate!”

The little girl giggled and squealed at the familiar game. Well, familiar to Tom. He wondered if Kate even remembered the last time they’d played.

She’s so much bigger than she was then.

She looks so much like her mom.

“You’re not causing any trouble for Mumma, are you?” Tom asked, trying to take his mind off the gnawing sensation in his chest.

“Not for me, but the teachers at Launch Pad tell me she’s a little escape artist,” Chyler reported as Kate reached out to the screen. “You know I went to pick her up yesterday and found her running up and down the hall?”

Tom’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“She must have slipped out while they were changing shifts,” Chyler jerked the tablet away. “Kate, stop.”

“I hope you had words with them.” Tom frowned.

“Tom, she’s fine.” The feed jumped as Chyler stood. “They have those tags for a reason. If she’d managed to get out of the building somehow it would have tripped the alarm.”

“Why doesn’t that make me feel better?” Tom sighed.

“Because you’re paranoid.” 

Tom scowled. “Daddy instinct, all right?”

Kate stood up and batted the display again. 

“Kate, don’t—don’t hit the End button!” Chyler jerked the tablet away.

“Dada!” Kate called.

“Hi, baby,” Tom chuckled as Chyler held the screen out of Kate’s reach. “Dada loves you.”

“Say ‘I love you’?” Chyler prompted.

“Ah ya yoo!” Kate responded, her tiny arms wrapping around her mother’s legs.

“Oh, I love you, Katie Bug.” Tom bit his tongue. He missed her so much. “Dada’s gonna see you next week, OK?”

“I can’t wait for you to get back,” Chyler said wearily. 

“I can’t wait to be back.” Tom watched Kate toddle back to her toys. “Kate probably thinks her dad lives in a computer screen.”

“She does not,” Chyler assured.

“And I’m starting to get claustrophobic in this tin can,” Tom added. “I’m ready to breathe air that isn’t recycled. And not have metal dust all over me. And see a color besides gray.”

“The last couple weeks is always the worst.” Chyler turned the camera to face herself and sat on the couch. “We’ve both been down this road.”

“I know, I know.” Tom rested his chin on his hand and took in his wife’s face. “I ever tell you you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen?”

“That’s your deployment goggles talking,” Chyler said with a poorly concealed smile.

“Learn to take a compliment, hon.”

“I—oh!” A crash interrupted whatever Chyler was going to say. 

“Chyler?!” Tom sat up straighter in alarm as the tablet clattered to the floor.

“Shit!” Chyler exclaimed. “Kate!”

“Chyler!” Tom called loudly enough to draw some glances from the phone booth’s other occupants.

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” Chyler made a grunt of frustration. “You didn’t hear that, Kate.” Chyler picked up the tablet and pushed her hair off her face. “She knocked over that toy kitchen from your mum. I was afraid—”

“Shit!”

Tom’s jaw dropped. Chyler’s gaze shifted past the tablet.

“Shit!” Kate repeated the word with a toddler’s pride.

“Kate, remember, you didn’t hear Mumma say that,” Chyler said without looking at her husband.

Tom’s “Looks like she did” rebuttal got lost in laughter.

“Tom, stop laughing,” Chyler ordered.

Tom just shook his head. He was surely drawing even more attention to himself now.

“This isn’t funny,” Chyler continued.

“Yes, it is,” Tom managed to wheeze.

“Shit!” Kate hollered again.

“Kate, stop it,” Chyler admonished uselessly.

“Don’t give an order—” Tom had to stop and gather himself. “Don’t give an order you know won’t be obeyed.”

“What’s up with Lasky?” Tom heard someone ask behind him.

Tom wiped his eyes. “And you were always afraid she’d hear it from me.”

Chyler glared into the camera. “You’d better not tell any of your buddies about this.”

“There’s—” Tom looked around the room. “Eight other people in here! It’s too late!”

“You know what? You can stay in that tin can,” Chyler said. “And I hope you choke on metal dust.”

If he choked on metal dust now, at least he’d go happy. “Love you!” Tom grinned and waved at his bride.

Chyler ended the call, but not before Kate got the last four-letter word.

xxxxxx

Flying Fortress is a reference to the B-17. I thought it was a good name for a carrier.

The daycare story is based on Mr finding Bum Bum escaped from his Sunday School room one day.

[alfvaen]

Novel Chaos

October is a month, all about fall, and Halloween, and (in Canada) Thanksgiving. In some years I've done Janelle Shane's Botober daily AI-generated writing prompts, though the shine is off of AI right now… (This year she recycled some older AI-generated text for the prompts and I don't blame her.) This year I didn't try to do daily writing, though I have been trying to do weekly writing at least, and post some of my writing exercises.

But right now I'm here to talk about the books I read during the month. (I started these monthly posts last November, so now I've been doing them for a full year!) Potential spoilers within for Jessie Mihalik's "Consortium Rebellion" series, Diana Rowland's "White Trash Zombie" series, and Jane Lindskold's "Firekeeper" series.

Jessie Mihalik: Chaos Reigning, completed October 3

I grabbed this one on impulse, and didn't think too much about it. After all, it's SF and not fantasy (even gaslamp fantasy) like the last book, and it would close off another trilogy. I've been kind of linking these books with the Rachel Bach trilogy in my head and trying not to read those too close together. In hindsight, as I was writing up the C.L. Polk book I read before it, one thing that these series do have in common is the romance elements. But thinking of it more, that's not enough to make them overly similar.

I'm not a huge romance reader. I have dutifully tried a few, but I have never felt particularly comfortable with the genre. I'm not saying that it's a bad genre, that romance books are bad and nobody should read them, or any of the wilder anti-romance viewpoints I've heard out there, but nonetheless the inclusion of romance tropes can detract from my enjoyment of a book. And maybe it's just the female-hetero-POV ones, appreciation of the male form and stuff, that gets me, maybe it's a lot of cultural conditioning on me, maybe it's a character flaw in me. But I don't care for it that much. I'm reading this anyway, though, aren't I? (Even if it's "in spite of" rather than "because of".)

Anyway, the series is about three sisters from one of these high-tech corporate Houses. This book focuses on Catalina a.k.a. "Cat", the youngest of the family, prone to being underestimated and acting all superficial, but as a child she was given secret (and illegal) genetic modifications to make her fast and strong. Her house, Van Hasenberg, is at war with a rival house, and Cat ends up going to a high-class multi-day party to try to get some more information. Her sister Bianca (from Book 2) insists she bring along a couple of bodyguards, and that she fake-date one of them so he'll have better access. Cat drags her feet but reluctantly agrees. (So it's not only a fake-dating romance and a bodyguard romance, but both at once!) Said bodyguard, Alex, also appeared in Book Two, though I only vaguely remember him.

During the party, assassins show up and try to kill Cat and several other nobles (including her friend Ying), as part of what turns out to be a coordinated attack on all the noble houses, and Cat is forced to go on the run and try to save the day, with Alex (and Ying's) help. In the process she finds love (though the full physical consummation gets interrupted several times before they finally manage it) and herself.

The romance feels a little…I dunno, smooth? I never get the sense that there's that many obstacles in their path, apart from perhaps Cat's own self-doubts and paranoia about her illegal mods being found out. And getting over her annoyance at Bianca foisting Alex and his partner on her in the first place. They didn't feel like serious problems. But it's okay, because I liked the SF plot well enough, so I enjoyed the book overall, and maybe I'll try the other trilogy we have of hers at some point.

Stephen King: Different Seasons, completed October 9

Now I realize that I have already read a Stephen King book this year, Under The Dome back in April. And it was technically two books, in paperback, at least. But you know, the guy doesn't stick to only publishing one book a year, so I'm not going to feel too bad about this. I wanted a book by a male author, and it's October so it's spooky season, and what with one thing and another, in my current schedule it'd be like seven more books before I could get an untyped male author slot to stick this into, and October will almost certainly be over by then.

It may seem surprising that I haven't read this one already. Well, as I may have mentioned before, I didn't really start reading King seriously until the 90s, by which point he already had a few books out, and I confess that I was mostly concentrating on novels. I did like Four Past Midnight, though, and I have been meaning to get to this one. I think we didn't even have a copy for a while, which may have held me back. And I ended up reading Skeleton Crew and Night Shift first. But now, here it is.

I'd consider this to really be the last book in my Stephen King backfilling. After this, I will have read everything up to, like, well, Lisey's Story. (Assuming you don't count Thinner. Or Black House. Shut up.) I've been trying to alternate backfilling with forward progress, but after this it will be full steam ahead! Ish.

I am already somewhat familiar with most of this book anyway. After all, three of the novellas were made into movies, right? Definitely "Shawshank Redemption", and "The Body" became "Stand By Me", and I think that I remember seeing ads for a movie called "Apt Pupil" which I'm assuming is the same. Only the fourth one, whose name I can't even recall offhand, I know nothing about. I haven't actually seen any of the movies, but quite frankly I'm pretty sure I remember the twist in "Shawshank Redemption", or least the movie, from some Cracked article years ago. I actually knew very little about the plot of "The Body", though, so I was looking forward to that one. The fourth one, I hadn't even heard of before.

What I guess I hadn't realized about this, though, is how mainstream these stories are. "Shawshank Redemption" (after hearing about the movie so much it seems wrong to call it "Rita Hayworth And Shawshank Redemption", too wordy) is a story about some guys in prison; "Apt Pupil" is about the teenager fascinated with Nazis, and "The Body" is just about some kids going on a cross-country adventure. "The Breathing Method" has some vague supernatural implications, in the mysterious nature of the gentleman's club our protagonist joins, so it is at least "uncanny", I suppose, and the story within the story has definite horror overtones.

So to some extent it's a bit of a letdown. "Shawshank Redemption" is mildly clever, I suppose, though once again I knew the twist at the end. "Apt Pupil" was mostly just sordid, with a pair of unsavoury characters who both take to killing off "winos" (revealing picture of how homeless people at the time were perceived--"winos" or "bag ladies", all of them the dregs of society who won't be missed), and while they get their comeuppance at the end, I did not enjoy following them for 180 pages. "The Body" was okay, I guess; I had seen the train bridge excerpt from the movie, and I was vaguely aware of the pie-eating contest scene as well, though I had no idea that was just from a story and not part of the actual events. (Yeah, two of Gordie's stories are included, and I couldn't tell you why he put in the other one because it didn't fit at all.) "The Breathing Method" is a story about an offbeat gentleman's club where they tell stories, which is a reasonably common trope, with an even shorter story about the titular method encapsulated inside it; the inner story is macabre, the other story a little light on conflict if heavy on atmosphere.

So now I guess I'm slightly more interested in the movies "Shawshank Redemption" and "Stand By Me", though probably not "Apt Pupil", and at least I've read it once and maybe that'll be it.

Jack L. Chalker: The River of Dancing Gods, completed October 12

I first encountered Jack L. Chalker through one of my friends reading one of the Well World books, and it looked kind of interesting so I tried it out. I loved it and read the whole series. I read his Four Lords of The Diamond series (though out of order at first because it was based on what the library had), and his Flux & Anchor/Soul Rider series, and basically everything of his I could find. His work was mostly based around transformation--whether it was the Well of Souls transforming you into some alien race, or some wizard from Flux, or whatever, people were constantly getting transformed, sometimes into animals, sometimes into sex slaves, sometimes into the other sex, whatever. I particularly liked the Well World because it was a planet made up of different hex-shaped artificial environments for a sampling of alien races, and I spent many happy hours trying to fill in the complete map and populate them with alien races from other books. I even tried to draw one or two of the aliens, though my artistic ability was never great.

At some point it all began to pall a bit, and I never finished his last series, and then he died shortly after that (I had the opportunity to meet him at the one Worldcon I attended, but I was too late to sign up for his Kaffeeklatsch so it didn't happen). His series did get a little samey, and later ones a little perfunctory. And it's been a while since I reread any of them. In recent years, with pressure to weed my collection a bit, I ended up just getting rid of some of the books and series I hadn't gotten as attached to (like the Changewinds series and Web of The Chozen). But some of them were kind of on the bubble so I wasn't quite sure.

This all heavily mirrors what happened with Piers Anthony, who was also one of my favourite authors around the same time; the big difference is that Piers Anthony didn't die (yet) and instead kept churning out books I was progressively less interested in, not to mention getting a little bit too interested in writing about relationships with young teenage girls. I reread his Incarnations of Immortality series a couple of years ago (and ended up just keeping the first book, I think, at the end). And now it's time for me to re-evaluate an old Chalker series.

The Dancing Gods series was intended as light fantasy, I guess. Most of what I remember about it is that our main characters are a couple of people from our world who cross over (making it a portal fantasy) to a fantasy realm where the rules are written down, literally, in a huge series of tomes that basically encapsulate all the fantasy clichés and tropes Chalker could think of. (Which reminds me a lot of Tom Sawyer's insistence on adhering to all those tropes and clichés in the prison rescue in Huckleberry Finn.) And those rules literally become the way the world works, like laws of nature. So it's intended to be a literal parody or pastiche or something. But I remember one or two elements from the books that have lingered with me over the years, so I decided to reread them and see if they had any overall redeeming value.

It's not particularly madcap or anything, this isn't Craig Shaw Gardner or Robert Asprin here, and it takes a while to get past the part where the fantasy realm wizard (Throckmorton Ruddygore) convinces our protagonists (Joe and Marge) to leave their world behind (where they were about to die in a road accident anyway) and cross over. And then they need to acclimatize to the world and train (Joe as a barbarian, Marge as a sorceress, ho hum--this kind of thing is why I was pleasantly surprised in Barbra Hambly's Darwath series when the woman became the fighter and the man became the wizard). Then we get some transformations--Joe because he runs into a Circean witch and gets turned into a bull, and Marge because she's been infused with faerie blood to speed up her training.

Our actual quest has to do with retrieving a magic lamp that grants wishes (though the twist is that it only grants you one wish for free, and if you make a second wish then you swap places with the genie), and it's also a little slow to get going, with a few random incidents, but the genie section is nicely interesting, and then we get the climactic battle with the dark lord's armies at the end. And the promise of sequels, of course, which is also in The Rules.

It's kind of on the bubble as far as keeping it goes. It's kind of short and isn't particularly funny, but it feels like it has something going for it other than trying to be funny. I guess I'll see how the other books in the series hold up. But I can tell that this likely won't be the only one in the series I keep.

Wesley Chu: The Art of Prophecy, completed October 19

After a reread, according to my cycle, it's time for either trying a book by a new author or reading a diversity book. I knew it was supposed to be a male author, and so I ended up grabbing one of the few male diversity books I have available right now, from the recent Wesley Chu series, The War Arts Saga. And only belatedly did I think to myself, wait, was it supposed to be trying a new author instead? and sure enough, it was. But oh, well, it'll be fine.

I've tried a few other Wesley Chu series, but I don't know if I've finished one yet. I read Time Salvager, but haven't been able to get a copy of the sequel Time Siege yet. I read The Births of Pi and The Deaths of Pi, but I wasn't sure about continuing to The Rebirths of Pi so I don't have that one. But this one looked interesting and I decided to pick it up, even in trade paperback. My wife has already read it and we've bought the sequel (we thought it was just a duology, but apparently there's a third one, which I suppose is not unexpected), so the chance that I will finish it are pretty decent, as long as this one doesn't suck or something.

The basic premise is that there's a teenage boy, Wen Jian, who has been prophesied from birth to be the one who defeats the Great Khan of the Katuia, but when warmaster Ling Taishi checks up on his training, she discovers he's being pampered and pulled different ways by too many competing masters, so she takes over instead. And then…the Great Khan gets killed in a random skirmish while he's drunk out of his mind, and the ruling Dukes decide that the prophesied hero is too much of a liability and they need to dispose of him, and Taishi and Jian go on the lam to try to figure out what went wrong with the prophecy.

The setting seems fairly medieval-Chinese, at least at first. And then we get POV from some of the Katuia refugees, on the "Sea of Grass"…which has grass blades large enough to climb and jump off of. And frequent sinkholes into what seems to be an actual sea underneath the Sea of Grass. And also the nomadic Katuia travel around the Sea of Grass in some kind of mechanized cities, possibly with steam technology? Also there are three moons. So it seems at least secondary-world, and an outside chance that this is one of those supposed secondary-world fantasies which is actually an SF colony world? So the setting is interesting, and by the middle of the book we end up cycling POV between the three main characters (Jian, Taishi, and Salminde of the Katuia), often with good chapter-end cliffhangers, and I didn't end up finding any of the POVs a real slog to get through (always a risk with multiple-POV books).

In the end it's pretty satisfying, with plenty of high-energy martial arts fights with bonus magic powers that work well on the page. My biggest gripe is that while there is a lovely illustrated map at the front, it has some huge omissions. Where's the Sea of Grass, for instance? Any time there's a map, it should have all the places in the story on the map so that you can always look them up.

Diana Rowland: White Trash Zombie Apocalypse, completed October 23

Time for another non-male author, and I felt like in honour of the spooky season it should be something…with zombies, maybe? Which either meant the fourth Mira Grant zombie book, Feedback, or the next Diana Rowland White Trash Zombie book. And I feel like I have kind of been neglecting the Diana Rowland (even if her zombies are less horror-y), so I went with that one.

Diana Rowland is on the (very) short list of authors that I discovered when I went to the World Fantasy Convention when they were in Calgary and ended up at the banquet sharing a table with a number of strangers--and since this was WFC, most of them were authors. I guess I don't remember everyone who was at the table, but Carrie Vaughn was definitely there (I had read her first book already so I didn't technically discover her there), as well as Mary Robinette Kowal (as I believe I mentioned previously) and also Diana Rowland. Her first book hadn't actually come out yet, but I made sure to pick it up as soon as it did. That was the first book of her Kara Gillian urban fantasy series, Mark of The Demon, and I've been following that closely since it came out.

It's reasonably common for an urban fantasy writer to start a side series, either with a different main character in the same world (like Patricia Briggs and Faith Hunter have done), or in a completely different world. (Yes, I suppose in general it's not unknown for a writer to have two series going at the same time, but work with me here.) If the series are in the same world, when I will generally try to keep up with them in chronological order as they relate to each other, like with the Patricia Briggs "Alpha & Omega" series relative to her Mercy Thompson books. (Publication order often works too, of course.) Otherwise I'll tend to stick with the one series as long as I'm enjoying it, and then maybe jump ship for the other one if the first series starts to pall. In this case, it was more that the Kara Gillian books were coming out more slowly, so I had time to go and read the White Trash Zombie ones in between. (I was following Rowland on Facebook back when I was on Facebook, and it sounds like she had a lot of crap going on in her life, so no judgement.)

Anyway, the titular character of the White Trash Zombie series is Angel Crawford, a low-income high school dropout (in Rowland's home state of Louisiana) who one day wakes up and finds out that she's been turned into a zombie. These are not supernatural zombies, as far as I can tell, nor are they mindless zombies--they've been infected with a parasite that requires them to consume brains to stay healthy. If they consume enough, then they can even have some super-strength, -speed, and -healing abilities, and the potential for outright immortality. (And, of course, if they don't, then they are overcome by insatiable cravings until they start attacking people and trying to eat their brains.) It turns out that she actually had gotten in an accident and a good samaritan had given her the zombie parasite to heal her; later she got hooked up with the ideal zombie job, working in a morgue, where there's lots of discarded brains for the consuming. She meets up with her saviour and other powerful zombie figures, and has to deal with those who want to use zombies for their own nefarious ends.

So yes, zombies are being rehabilitated into "they're also people with special nutritional needs". And unfortunate instinctual behaviours if those needs aren't satisfied… Does that make them allegories for drug addicts? So far, at least, it seems that they can't just "kick the habit". And it seems like a harmful stereotype to say that drug addicts turn into ravening monsters when denied their fix. But perhaps it's drawing some parallels here anyway? Angel was a drug user before her zombification, and now if she does drugs or even drinks or smokes, all it does is use up her supply of brain prions faster.

The titles from this series are often references to other titles--My Life As A White Trash Zombie, Even White Trash Zombies Get The Blues, How The White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back, even White Trash Zombie Gone Wild… This one is more of a stretch. After all, this is not the last book in the series, and there's no apocalypse. Angel does get caught in a flood at some point after days of torrential rain, which I suppose is mildly catastrophic, at least, but mostly I guess the title is justified by the fact that, in the background of events, there's a movie being filmed at a nearby high school, "High School Zombie Apocalypse!!" (I know titles are hard, especially when you establish a strong theme and then you have to stick with it even when it doesn't apply…)

Overall I liked the book; Angel is starting to feel less like just "white trash" and integrating into a new community (of zombies) that accept her for what she is. She goes through a lot, but comes out stronger. But I still want to finish the Kara Gillian series before I go on to the next one…

Jane Lindskold: Wolf's Head, Wolf's Heart, October 31

Time for another female author, and I felt like maybe it was time for one of those big thick epic fantasies, possibly one that has been sitting on my shelf for a while.

Jane Lindskold has been around for a while, but I haven't actually read much of her. I'd first read Marks of Our Brothers from the library, which I seem to recall was SF, and not much else about it. She did a collaboration with Roger Zelazny called Donnerjack which I think we have but I haven't read. At some point she started coming out with this big thick fantasy series about a girl raised by wolves or something, and eventually I read the first book, Through Wolf's Eyes. It was somewhat on the bubble for me, which is why it's not until nine years later that I'm getting around to reading the next book. (It is also, as I mentioned, big thick fantasy, almost 800 pages, and Goodreads Challenge has been skewing my reading choices towards shorter books, so maybe that hasn't helped.) And this book also came out a while ago--in the acknowledgements section the author talks about how difficult the past year has been, and it turns out that that past year was 2001 (in which, famously, things happened), so it's not a classic fantasy series from the 80s or anything, but it's still less recent than a lot of the books I read these days (2010s vintage, in particular, for the urban fantasy).

There seems to be a trope out there, not all that common but still not unknown, of having a character with an interesting background, perhaps raised in solitude or something, who then ends up getting dropped into what seems like a fairly generic fantasy scenario. C.J. Cherryh's Fortress In The Eye of Time, for instance, or Michelle Sagara's "The Sundered", maybe Gwyneth Jones's Divine Endurance (it's been a while since I read it), Rebecca Bradley's "Lady In Gil" series… Sometimes the fantasy scenario gets a boost from the interesting character, and sometimes it drains away all their interestingness and results in generic plot.

Anyway, it's been a while, obviously, so we'll see how easily I can get reoriented into the actual story. It turns out that our wolf-girl, Firekeeper, showed up in the human kingdoms with her giant wolf friend, she encountered human civilization for the first time, made some friends, and meanwhile in local fantasy politics there was some strife which ended in a regime change, and that's book one. In general we seem to spend as much time with Firekeeper's friends as we do with Firekeeper herself, but the reintroduction here was pretty good. We have Elise, the minor noblewoman who's kind of in love with a lower-class healer guy who everyone calls Doc, and we have Derian, the son of a successful stablekeeper who now has the ear of a king. We also have some bad guys, not least the deposed leader from the first book. There's some weddings, there's assassination attempts. And there is, apparently, a history of colonialism.

See, the kingdoms here are actually more or less colonies from overseas, though I think they've lost contact with the original kingdoms. There was a big plague which happened a century ago and preferentially killed people with magical talent, and as a result magic is generally distrusted and magic-users considered evil. And also, the sentient animals (not just wolves, but all sorts of birds and mammals and maybe even reptiles, idk) were kind of driven out of the coastal realms by the humans, particularly the mages, back in the day. Oh, the animals fought among each other, too, but they're very ashamed of it. (Totally not First Nations-coded here, oh no.) The humans have mostly forgotten about them and while they did want to see Firekeeper back with her people, they're not particularly eager to remind the humans at large about their existence.

Meanwhile, deposed monarch took some magic stuff with them when they fled. The new monarch kind of wants it back, and the animals want Firekeeper to confiscate it from the humans and bring it to them for safekeeping, and there's our plot. They end up having to go to the neighbouring realm of New Kelvin, where sorcery is much more respected, though it turns out they don't have any of it themselves. The primary antagonist, Lady Melina Shield, is seen in the POV of a couple of vaguely villain-coded characters, but we don't get her POV directly, which I think is quite effective, since she is clearly an accomplished (and possibly magically-aided) manipulator.

Firekeeper is a central character, but not necessarly the main one, though she does have a character arc, as does Elise; Derian, not so much, but it's fine. The main climax of the book seems to come about two-thirds of the way through; there's one after it, but it has lower stakes and is more of an anticlimax. Overall I found the book charming and almost cozy in the early parts, with more action and tension coming later. I feel better about the series now and am more inclined to continue on, perhaps in less than nine years.

For nonfiction, I'm about halfway through Ed Yong's An Immense World, but I took a break to read some more Marvel comics (up to May 1994), and cut down on the puzzle games a bit. Hopefully I'll finish An Immense World before the end of the year at least, and I'm also feeling like reading some more from that Love & Rockets bundle sometime soon.

Also, we did watch "Stand By Me" on Halloween, and now I'm beginning to think that right after reading something is not the best time to watch the movie adaptation. I enjoyed River Phoenix and Wil Wheaton's performances, but mostly there was a lot of trying to remember if it was exactly the same as the novella or not. (And similar effects with our watching the "Under The Dome" TV series. That's on the back burner now as we power through Series Seven of Doctor Who from the library, though.)

[oliveenviro]

Efficient Waste Management: The Benefits of Garbage Chute Services

Waste management is the most important system in today's urban landscape. It is coupled with innovative solutions, such as the Garbage Chute Service. This simplifies waste disposal and improves the overall cleanliness and hygiene that could be observed even when it comes to residential and commercial buildings.

What is a Garbage Chute? A garbage chute is a vertical shaft fitted in buildings designed for the purpose of providing easy waste transport directly from different floors to a disposal area. This convenient feature reduces the hassle associated with carrying heavy bags of trash down or through hallways and can be considered an indispensable component of the modern multi-story building.

Key Benefits of Garbage Chute Services Convenience: The greatest benefit associated with the use of a chute for garbage is convenience. People simply throw their trash in it, unlike their obligation to get around and navigate the stairs or an elevator while carrying bulky trash.

Improved Sanitation: Waste chutes ensure better hygiene because less splashing and odour occurs. Additionally, since wastes are confined in the chute till collection, the likelihood of infestation by pests and rodents is less, making living and working areas healthier and more hygienic.

Space-Saving: In densely populated areas, space is at a premium. A garbage chute requires minimal space, allowing buildings to utilize more floor area for essential services rather than waste storage.

Efficient Waste Collection: A well-designed garbage chute system makes waste collection more efficient. Collection staff can quickly access the disposal area, reducing waste management time.

Eco-Friendly: Implementing a garbage chute service can also support sustainability efforts. By centralizing waste disposal, it encourages proper segregation and recycling, aligning with modern environmental standards.

Choosing the Right Garbage Chute Service The things to consider when selecting a Garbage Chute Service are:

Quality and durability: Make sure that the chute materials used are good quality and long-lasting to endure all daily usage through frequent use.

Customization: A credible service provider should have options to allow unique needs to fit into your building.

Maintenance and Support: Select a service that offers regular maintenance and prompt support so that the system is able to function at its best.

Conclusion Garbage Chute Service in your building will fundamentally improve the efficiency of managing waste, maintain hygiene, and ensure a healthier environment. With growing cities inevitably marking great innovations in their midst, such as garbage chutes, effective strategies for waste management will inevitably be decided by such tools.

For more information on our Garbage Chute Services, visit Olive Enviro today!

Website link: https://oliveenviro.in/

Phone:  +91 81110 76222

Gmail: oliveindustrieschn@gmail.com

[joshua1blog]

Streamlining Space: The Crucial Role of OrindaJunkRemoval in Orinda, CA

In the heart of Orinda, CA, where the charm of suburban living meets the convenience of urban amenities, the battle against clutter is a constant struggle for residents and businesses alike. From old furniture gathering dust in basements to construction debris littering job sites, the need for efficient junk removal services is undeniable. Enter Junk Removal Services Orinda CA, a trusted name in the community, offering indispensable solutions for reclaiming space and restoring order.

OrindaJunkRemoval stands as a beacon of reliability and professionalism in the realm of junk removal services in Orinda, CA. With a dedication to customer satisfaction and a commitment to environmentally responsible practices, this company has earned the trust and admiration of locals seeking to declutter their lives.

The primary allure of junk removal services lies in their ability to transform chaos into clarity by liberating spaces from the shackles of accumulated clutter. Whether it's a residential property burdened by years of neglect or a commercial establishment undergoing renovations, OrindaJunkRemoval swoops in with precision and efficiency to restore order. Their team of skilled professionals possesses the expertise and equipment necessary to tackle even the most daunting junk removal tasks, leaving properties looking refreshed and revitalized.

But the benefits of junk removal extend beyond mere aesthetics. In a community as pristine and environmentally conscious as Orinda, sustainable waste management practices are paramount. OrindaJunkRemoval recognizes this imperative and is committed to minimizing its ecological footprint through responsible disposal and recycling efforts. Rather than simply discarding items into landfills, they prioritize salvaging and recycling materials whenever feasible, thus contributing to the preservation of the environment and the promotion of a circular economy.

Moreover, OrindaJunkRemoval prioritizes convenience and customer satisfaction above all else. Scheduling a junk removal service is a breeze, with flexible appointment times tailored to accommodate the needs of clients. Whether it's a last-minute cleanout or a meticulously planned renovation project, OrindaJunkRemoval delivers prompt and reliable service, alleviating the stress and hassle associated with junk removal.

Safety is also a top priority for OrindaJunkRemoval. Certain items may pose risks during handling and transportation, requiring specialized equipment and expertise to ensure safe removal. OrindaJunkRemoval's team of professionals undergoes rigorous training and adheres to stringent safety protocols, ensuring that the removal process is executed smoothly and without incident, giving clients peace of mind throughout the entire process.

In essence, OrindaJunkRemoval plays a pivotal role in streamlining spaces and revitalizing communities in Orinda, CA. Their unwavering commitment to excellence, coupled with their dedication to sustainability and customer satisfaction, sets them apart as leaders in the industry. By entrusting their junk removal needs to OrindaJunkRemoval, residents and businesses alike can breathe easy knowing that their spaces will be transformed from cluttered chaos to organized tranquility, leaving a lasting impact on the community and the environment.

[dumpsternearmeqc]

Streamlined Waste Management Solutions with Davenport Dumpster Rental Service

Wide Range of Dumpster Sizes:

One of the key strengths of Davenport Dumpster Rental Service lies in its diverse selection of dumpster sizes. Whether you are tackling a small home renovation project or managing the waste generated by a large construction site, the company provides a variety of containers to suit your needs. From compact 10-yard dumpsters to expansive 40-yard options, clients can choose the size that best accommodates their specific project requirements.

Flexible Rental Durations:

Understanding the unique timelines associated with various projects, Davenport Dumpster Rental Service stands out by offering flexible rental durations. Clients can choose from short-term rentals for quick clean-up tasks or opt for longer-term solutions for ongoing construction projects. This flexibility ensures that customers only pay for the duration they need, minimizing costs and maximizing efficiency.

Prompt Delivery and Pickup:

Timeliness is crucial in the waste management industry, and Davenport Dumpster Rental Service excels in providing prompt delivery and pickup services. The company's efficient logistics ensure that dumpsters are delivered to the specified location on time, ready to accommodate the waste generated. Likewise, once the project is completed or the dumpster is filled, a quick and hassle-free pickup is scheduled to maintain the project's momentum.

Environmentally Conscious Practices:

In an era where environmental sustainability is a top priority, Waste Dumpster Rental in Silvis is committed to responsible waste disposal practices. The company adheres to local regulations and employs environmentally friendly disposal methods, promoting recycling and proper waste segregation whenever possible. This commitment not only aligns with environmental standards but also contributes to the community's overall well-being.

Transparent Pricing Structure:

Davenport Dumpster Rental Service takes pride in its transparent pricing structure, ensuring that clients are fully aware of the costs associated with their rental. Hidden fees and surprises are eliminated, allowing customers to budget effectively for their waste management needs. The company's competitive rates, coupled with its commitment to service quality, make it a preferred choice for both residential and commercial clients.

Dedicated Customer Support:

Exceptional customer service is at the core of Davenport Dumpster Rental Service's ethos. The company's knowledgeable and friendly staff is ready to assist clients in choosing the right dumpster size, understanding rental terms, and addressing any concerns throughout the process. This commitment to customer satisfaction enhances the overall experience and fosters lasting relationships with clients.

[dalalsteel]

Revolutionizing Construction: Steel Buildings and Prefab Houses in Lebanon

In recent years, the construction industry in Lebanon has witnessed a paradigm shift, embracing modern techniques and materials that offer unparalleled efficiency, cost-effectiveness, and sustainability. Among these advancements, steel buildings and prefab houses have emerged as game-changers, revolutionizing the way structures are designed and erected. This article explores the rise of steel buildings manufacturers and prefabricated houses in Lebanon, shedding light on the benefits and impact of these innovative construction solutions.

Steel Buildings Manufacturers in Lebanon

https://justpaste.it/img/small/a89b8fe6531d3f98047792e9453f4769.jpg

Steel buildings have gained popularity in Lebanon due to their versatility and robustness. As urbanization continues, the demand for commercial and industrial spaces has surged, prompting the rise of steel buildings manufacturers in the country. These companies offer comprehensive services, including design, engineering, fabrication, and installation.

The use of steel in construction provides numerous advantages over traditional materials like concrete and wood. Steel structures are known for their high strength-to-weight ratio, allowing for larger clear-span spaces and increased design flexibility. Moreover, steel buildings are earthquake-resistant, crucial in Lebanon, an area prone to seismic activity.

Prefab Steel Buildings in Lebanon

The concept of prefab (short for prefabricated) construction has taken the world by storm, and Lebanon is no exception. Prefab steel buildings are pre-engineered and manufactured off-site, and then assembled at the construction site. This approach significantly reduces construction time and minimizes on-site labor requirements.

In addition to saving time and costs, prefab steel buildings offer eco-friendly benefits. The controlled factory environment ensures minimal material waste, and the use of recycled steel further reduces the carbon footprint. The construction process produces less noise and disruption, making prefab steel buildings an ideal choice for urban areas.

Steel Prefabricated Houses in Lebanon

https://justpaste.it/img/small/e8fa4a3d3f998f3336e7966861a14ce0.png

The rise of prefabricated houses made from steel has also been prominent in Lebanon's residential sector. These prefabricated homes offer a faster, more efficient, and affordable alternative to traditional brick-and-mortar houses.

Steel prefabricated houses are customizable, ensuring that each home meets the unique needs and preferences of homeowners. With advancements in design and technology, these houses can be aesthetically appealing while providing the comfort and durability of conventional homes.

Benefits of Steel Structures

Steel structures have several inherent advantages that contribute to their widespread adoption in Lebanon's construction industry:

 

Strength and Durability: Steel's inherent strength and durability ensure that the structures can withstand harsh weather conditions and last for decades with minimal maintenance.

 

Sustainability: Steel is a highly recyclable material, making it an eco-friendly choice for environmentally conscious construction projects.

 

Speed of Construction: Prefabricated steel buildings and houses are quicker to construct than traditional structures, reducing overall project timelines.

 

Cost-Effectiveness: Though the initial investment may be slightly higher, the long-term cost benefits, coupled with reduced maintenance expenses, make steel structures a financially viable option.

 

Flexibility in Design: Steel's versatility allows architects and engineers to create innovative and unconventional designs, pushing the boundaries of modern architecture.

Used Prefab Houses for Sale in Lebanon

As the popularity of prefab houses grows, the market for used prefab houses has also emerged. Used prefab houses offer an affordable housing solution for those seeking cost-effective living spaces without compromising on quality.

Potential buyers of used prefab houses should exercise due diligence by inspecting the structure for any signs of wear and tear. While used prefab houses can be a great option, it is essential to ensure that the building meets safety and quality standards.

The advent of steel buildings manufacturers and the rising popularity of prefab houses have transformed the construction landscape in Lebanon. From commercial and industrial structures to residential dwellings, steel's superior properties have revolutionized the way buildings are designed, constructed, and used. As the construction industry in Lebanon continues to evolve, embracing these innovative and sustainable solutions will undoubtedly shape a brighter and more resilient future for the nation's infrastructure.

For more info :-

Dalal prefabricated houses Lebanon

Pre engineered steel buildings manufacturer Lebanon

Prefab building company Lebanon

Prefabricated building manufacturers Lebanon

Prefabricated house manufacturers Lebanon

In recent years, the construction industry in Lebanon has witnessed a paradigm shift, embracing modern techniques and materials that offer unparalleled efficiency, cost-effectiveness, and sustainability. Among these advancements, steel buildings and prefab houses have emerged as game-changers, revolutionizing the way structures are designed and erected. This article explores the rise of steel buildings manufacturers and prefabricated houses in Lebanon, shedding light on the benefits and impact of these innovative construction solutions.

Steel Buildings Manufacturers in Lebanon

https://justpaste.it/img/small/a89b8fe6531d3f98047792e9453f4769.jpg

Steel buildings have gained popularity in Lebanon due to their versatility and robustness. As urbanization continues, the demand for commercial and industrial spaces has surged, prompting the rise of steel buildings manufacturers in the country. These companies offer comprehensive services, including design, engineering, fabrication, and installation.

The use of steel in construction provides numerous advantages over traditional materials like concrete and wood. Steel structures are known for their high strength-to-weight ratio, allowing for larger clear-span spaces and increased design flexibility. Moreover, steel buildings are earthquake-resistant, crucial in Lebanon, an area prone to seismic activity.

Prefab Steel Buildings in Lebanon

The concept of prefab (short for prefabricated) construction has taken the world by storm, and Lebanon is no exception. Prefab steel buildings are pre-engineered and manufactured off-site, and then assembled at the construction site. This approach significantly reduces construction time and minimizes on-site labor requirements.

In addition to saving time and costs, prefab steel buildings offer eco-friendly benefits. The controlled factory environment ensures minimal material waste, and the use of recycled steel further reduces the carbon footprint. The construction process produces less noise and disruption, making prefab steel buildings an ideal choice for urban areas.

Steel Prefabricated Houses in Lebanon

https://justpaste.it/img/small/e8fa4a3d3f998f3336e7966861a14ce0.png

The rise of prefabricated houses made from steel has also been prominent in Lebanon's residential sector. These prefabricated homes offer a faster, more efficient, and affordable alternative to traditional brick-and-mortar houses.

Steel prefabricated houses are customizable, ensuring that each home meets the unique needs and preferences of homeowners. With advancements in design and technology, these houses can be aesthetically appealing while providing the comfort and durability of conventional homes.

Benefits of Steel Structures

Steel structures have several inherent advantages that contribute to their widespread adoption in Lebanon's construction industry:

 

Strength and Durability: Steel's inherent strength and durability ensure that the structures can withstand harsh weather conditions and last for decades with minimal maintenance.

 

Sustainability: Steel is a highly recyclable material, making it an eco-friendly choice for environmentally conscious construction projects.

 

Speed of Construction: Prefabricated steel buildings and houses are quicker to construct than traditional structures, reducing overall project timelines.

 

Cost-Effectiveness: Though the initial investment may be slightly higher, the long-term cost benefits, coupled with reduced maintenance expenses, make steel structures a financially viable option.

 

Flexibility in Design: Steel's versatility allows architects and engineers to create innovative and unconventional designs, pushing the boundaries of modern architecture.

Used Prefab Houses for Sale in Lebanon

As the popularity of prefab houses grows, the market for used prefab houses has also emerged. Used prefab houses offer an affordable housing solution for those seeking cost-effective living spaces without compromising on quality.

Potential buyers of used prefab houses should exercise due diligence by inspecting the structure for any signs of wear and tear. While used prefab houses can be a great option, it is essential to ensure that the building meets safety and quality standards.

The advent of steel buildings manufacturers and the rising popularity of prefab houses have transformed the construction landscape in Lebanon. From commercial and industrial structures to residential dwellings, steel's superior properties have revolutionized the way buildings are designed, constructed, and used. As the construction industry in Lebanon continues to evolve, embracing these innovative and sustainable solutions will undoubtedly shape a brighter and more resilient future for the nation's infrastructure.

For more info :-

Dalal prefabricated houses Lebanon

Pre engineered steel buildings manufacturer Lebanon

Prefab building company Lebanon

Prefabricated building manufacturers Lebanon

Prefabricated house manufacturers Lebanon

[bearholdingashark]

Cablanca Week 2021: July 12 - July 18

Welcome to Cablanca Week 2021! Any type of fanwork/expression of love for this amazing ship is welcome: fic, art, graphics/edits, gifsets, fanvids, fanmixes, meta, headcanons, etc, with no minimum requirements. There is also no pressure to post everyday, so participate as much or as little as you would like! 

Make sure to tag #cablancaweek21 so we can see everything! (Also feel free to tag me. :) I’ll be reblogging everything.) 

Monday, July 12th: Beginnings

Tuesday, July 13th: Home

Wednesday, July 14th: Tropes

Thursday, July 15th: Partners

Friday, July 16th: WIPs

Saturday, July 17th: Crossover/Fusion

Sunday, July 18th: Free Choice

Reblogs are appreciated to get the word out!

(I won’t be tagging people in future posts, but wanted to tag the people who had expressed interest: @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @nothingeverlost, @gracefulanimation)

ETA: Fixed the image with dates so it's correct! 

[lokislastlove]

would you rather obsessive neighbor Peter parker. he always finds a way to finness his way into your apartment. Or Uber driver Bucky. somehow he always ends up picking up your driving request. His car is a super popular car so you arent sure if he is stalking you or it a coincidence

Ok so this kind of inspired a little drabble (seriously how do you do this to me every time?) basically I love creepy neighbors and this is where my mind went…. 😬 🖤🤍🖤🤍

Sticky Situation (Dark!Peter x Reader)

Summary: You develop a crush on a new neighbor.

Notes: no real warnings other than implied kidnapping and dark Peter. It’s a drabble under 2k. 🤍

—

The front door finally gives after a moment of pushing, heavy metal dragging loudly over the permanently scratched frame. Like most people in the city, you look forward to getting home after a long work day. But, for you, the best moment of your day is when you get to check your mail.

Smiling, you walk across the narrow lobby and toward the shining wall of mailboxes. You unlock your box and, like clockwork, the guy from apartment 4E steps up a few feet away before you’ve had the chance to flip through all the junk mail.

It’s been three months since you moved in and not a single work day has passed where he hasn't been there to greet you with a smile and shy “hey”. At first you found it a bit creepy, but he never made a move, or said anything weird, he barely looked at you long enough to make you uncomfortable.

“Please tell me you put this in my box?” He asks pleadingly as he adjusts his glasses.

“Uh,” voice stutters as you read the flyer in his hand, “sadly, no. I am not a member of the building’s doom metal band.”

You fight a smile and he chuckles. Damn, even his laugh is adorable. You flick through your mail one more time, trying to drag out the time before he slams his mailbox closed. You follow quickly, but not too quickly, you don’t want him to think you’re a creep. Stuffing the junk mail into the recycle bin, you hover a couple feet behind him as you wait for the elevator.

He hums along to the song on his single earbud and fidgets with the keys in his hand. Perfectly casual, like he doesn’t even realize you’re there. You take the time to appreciate the view his tight jeans give you, a hint of a shapely firm ass and thighs. He definitely works out.

The elevator dings and you suck in a quick breath as you timidly enter the small space beside him. He smiles at you as he presses your floor and then his floor without prompting. You both have done this so many times it doesn’t need to be said anymore.

“Thanks,” you mutter automatically as you stare at your shoes and hold your purse strap tightly.

“My pleasure,” he returns, smirking when he catches you look up at the way his voice deepens.

The elevator dings and you step out with a nervous, “goodnight,” and small wave.

“See you,” he smiles brushing back his curly locks.

God, why can’t you be cooler? Why can you never think of something funny or interesting to say to keep him talking? Always safer to stay quiet than embarrass yourself, you suppose. You drag your feet to your door, sighing at the prospect of wasting another lonely night of junk food and tv. If only you could be spontaneous for once in your life. 

—

Friday is bittersweet as you celebrate the end of the workweek but also the last day you get to see 4E for two days. You go to your mailbox, smiling in anticipation as you shove in the key and twist. You pull out the measly stack of junk and flip through it slowly as you glance around the lobby for him. He must be late. You move to the trash can at the end of the row, and use up some time cleaning out your purse. Still no sign of him.

You slowly re-read and toss each piece of junk mail until you are left with a single envelope, probably more ads. Disappointment tugs at your shoulders as you sigh at the empty lobby. He’s not coming.

You tear open the envelope, ignoring the hand written address on the front and pull out a single piece of lined notebook paper. You unfold it with a frown and begin to read the hastily written note in black marker.

“Hey 3E! I have to go out of town for a day or two and didn’t want you to think I ditched you on our nightly elevator ride. Truth is I am a coward and couldn’t get the courage to ask you properly on a date. Which makes the fact that I’m asking you for a favor even more embarrassing...The problem is I left my cat, Padme, at home alone. I thought that maybe you could stop in and check on her maybe give her some catnip from the cabinet above the stove to keep her happy. No pressure, though! She’ll survive, she has food and water. But, if you're feeling neighborly, I keep a key taped under the door mat. Thank you so much! I’ll see you soon – Peter (aka 4E).”

You read the note through multiple times in disbelief, laughing again at the post script at the bottom reading, “just please don’t steal my stuff, my cat is very possessive of her things. ;)”

You bite your lip as you think it over, your first thought is instantly, “Aw poor kitty.” You don’t really see a downside, in fact, he’s the one risking the most by trusting a total stranger to enter his home. But the curiosity compels you into the elevator where you promptly press the button for the fourth floor.

You stand outside, staring at the 4E on the door and listening for any indication he might be home… just incase his plans changed. But, there is nothing but silence for several minutes. You nudge the mat with your toe and flip up the top corner, instantly spotting the black duct tape camouflaged across the rubber bottom.

You glance down the hall, nervous to be accused of breaking and entering as you pluck the silver key from under the tape. With a deep breath you unlock the door and poke your head into the dim apartment. Nothing but the stove top light and one standing lamp in the corner to light the entire space.

The floor plan is similar to yours, open kitchen and living space with a bedroom and bathroom down the short hall, though his has a distinctly more bachelor-pad vibe. The dark leather furniture and exposed brick seem to absorb what little light there is and you squint as you look around for the cat.

“Hello?” You call nervously through the still air.

You step inside and close the door, the last thing you need is to go searching for an escaped cat. Seeing his home feels oddly intimate, especially without him there. It makes you fidget, like you’re doing something wrong even though you had, in fact, been invited.

You're pleasantly surprised by the modern decor blended with the nerdy memorabilia. Clearly, he has some style based on cohesive look and his neat placement of his most prized possessions, like the signed replica of Captain America’s shield on the wall, something you would definitely consider stealing.

A soft meow cuts through the silence and your eyes spot the small tabby cat blinking at you from the end of the dark hall.

“Hi, Padme,” you lilt sweetly. “Aren't you a cutie. I didn’t know your dad was such a nerd, but I find that pretty cute too.”

She meows again, clearly unimpressed with you and skitters into the dark back room. You call after her and follow instinctively, listening for her soft mews and the clack of her claws on the wood floor as you get closer.

You reach around the door frame, feeling around for a light switch but find none. “Spspsp, come on Padme. You want some catnip? Come on out baby.”

There is a scuffle and a startled cat cry from within and you panic as you move inside holding your hands out to keep yourself from running into anything.

“Kitty? Here kitty, are you ok?” you worry as you timidly take a couple more steps forward, sweeping your hands out in front of you.

You pull your hand back with a gasp at the feel of something wet and sticky. You pause and slowly put your hand out again, “Padme?”

Your hand runs into a long string like line, and your first thought is a clothes line, but why is it sticky? Ick, maybe it better not to know why. You go to release the line but your hand refuses to open. You bring your other hand up to pull it off of you but you end up trapping both hands to the line.

Panic flairs instantly as you tug against the cord, kicking out in fear as more parts of your body become tangled in the invisible web-like trap. But that’s not possible, or at least... it shouldn’t be.

“Help! Help me!” You scream as your body becomes completely bound in the gluey strands, but no one hears you.

Hours pass and your voice turns scratchy, burning with pain as your body slumps in exhaustion but is held upright by your unyielding bonds. The harder you fight the more secure your restraints become until you are completely paralyzed and hanging dumbly, waiting for someone to find you. 

The morning light rises, and your eyes adjust to the dim light, black out curtains keeping most of the light out even as the peak of the day comes and goes. You have no idea how long you’ve been there crying and pleading to the silence, but as the orange sunset shines through the tight blinds you finally hear the front door open and close. 

“Hello?” You croak, every inch of you aching and stiff as you are forced to listen to the slow steady footsteps.

They seem unhurried, relaxed even, though you know they must have heard you. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest in terror. A light switch flicks on in the hallway, bathing you in a bright light at your back. You watch as a shadow grows along the ground. Its the most you can see as your head is stuck facing the other direction, awkwardly.

“Peter?” You whimper quietly as you feel a heat along your back.

He chuckles against you ear and whispers darkly, “caught ya.”

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @queenoftheworldisdead @threeminutesoflife @emberenchanted @buttercupfangirl @needleandhammer @lokiswildheartcantbebroken @thiskindahotkindamusic @caffiend-queen

[liaromancewriter]

Too Late for Regrets

Premise: When Ethan Ramsey gets a second chance to build a relationship with his mother, he wonders if it’s too late for forgiveness.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Angsty Fluff. Words: 1,420

A/N: I’m participating in @wackydrabbles prompt 135, which will appear in bold. Also submitting to @choicesfebruary2022challenge​ Day 20 prompt “Unrequited”

The floor of the dinghy motel room in Southie was littered with old newspapers and takeout menus. The wastepaper basket under the banged-up table in the corner was overflowing with carboard containers mixed with used syringes.

Louise Ramsey lay flat on the bed staring at the ceiling as she waited for the heroine to kick in from her last dose. The needle she’d used to inject the drug rolled off the lumpy bed, falling on the mud-colored carpet with a soft clink.

Sweat poured off her forehead, made worse by the window painted shut covered with riot bars and the ceiling fan that just recycled the warm air.

A voice on the TV chained to the wall droned on about some virus or the other in some godforsaken jungle somewhere. But she wasn’t paying attention until she heard a name that had her lifting her spinning head off the thin pillow.

There on the flickering screen was a face that reminded her of one that she hadn’t seen in twenty-five years; so familiar and yet so austere and unlike the man she had once loved.

“Ethan,” she whispered with recognition before sweet oblivion took over.

-------------

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” griped Ethan Ramsey to the woman seated next to him in the car as they drove to the rehab facility outside the city.

“Because I threatened to have you paged as Doctor Scaredy Pants if you didn’t,” quipped Cassie Valentine.

She didn’t bother looking up as she flipped through the information folder Ethan had received from the facility ahead of Family Day. The weekend was intended as a group therapy session with the patient’s immediate family members.

A couple of months ago, she had accompanied Ethan on the same route as he drove his mother to begin her drug rehabilitation treatment. With her encouragement, he agreed to give Louise a second chance, wanting to let go of the anger that had been so much a part of the young, abandoned boy.

Cassie had known, even if he hadn’t realized it then, that any chance the two of them had of being in a normal relationship was dependent upon him giving his mother a second chance, even if forgiveness would be a long time coming. If ever.

Ethan gave her a sideways look. “Do you honestly think I would have cared about that?”

“Since we’re almost there, I would say you did care,” she countered, glancing up at him.

“Hrm,” was all he said, turning his attention back to the road.

Twenty minutes later, he parked the car and switched off the engine. Instead of exiting the car, he took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he was wont to do when frustrated.

“Ethan, please talk to me,” said Cassie quietly when he remained silent.

She reached across the console and took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. His thumb stroked the back of her hand and she saw him struggle to voice his thoughts. She squeezed his hand, letting him know she was here and to take his time.

Eventually, he turned his head towards her, his blue eyes stormy and uncertain as he stared off into the distance rather than make eye contact.

“We both know the cycle of addiction is never ending,” he started only to stop before he shifted his eyes to meet hers. “Today is about following the steps, making amends to those that have been harmed. As a doctor, I know it’s an important part of a patient’s recovery…”

He trailed off and Cassie understood his hesitation.

“But as the one that was harmed, you’re not sure if it’s too late for regrets,” she concluded. “The person who deserves to be asked for forgiveness is the eleven-year-old boy who had his entire childhood ripped apart. You’re not him, not anymore.”

“No, I’m not,” he nodded. “I made something of myself because it was what I needed. It might have started as a reaction to the whispers that followed my dad and I those first few years after she left. But, somewhere along the way, it stopped being about her and became about the person I wanted to be.”

“Are you worried that saying that today would derail her treatment?” she asked.

“Yes. She can’t make amends to someone that no longer exists.”

Before she could follow through on that, she saw Alan Ramsey’s car pull in beside Ethan’s. He waved at them through the window before exiting the car.

Ethan twisted in his seat to give his father the signal that he needed a few more minutes. Alan nodded and leaned against the trunk while he waited.

“Do you want to know what I think? Semi-professionally?” she said, referring to her background in psychology.

When he nodded, staring ahead rather than at her, she continued. “That little boy is still inside you and he needs to hear her apology and her regrets, even if the man you’ve become doesn’t. And Louise needs to say the words to both of you because she has to own up to her mistakes. The steps exist for a reason and the process must be respected. But Ethan…”

He turned to face her when she tightened her grip on their joined hands and he heard the urgency in her voice.

“Your father needs to hear her make amends to you,” she said. “This is as much for him as it is for you. As a parent, he might feel that he failed you. But you need to show him that he didn’t.”

“Of course, he didn’t fail me,” scoffed Ethan. “He did the best he could as a single parent.”

“He is still a parent and he might see his failure to keep Louise happy as not protecting you,” she told him. “My parents are always in sync, but they blamed themselves for not protecting me from the poison attack. That’s what parents do. So, when you find yourself doubting the process, think about him.”

Cassie wondered if she might have gone too far, but the grim expression on his face lightened and his lips curved into a small smile.

“You’re right,” he said. “I promise I’ll keep an open mind this weekend.”

“That’s all you can do, Ethan,” she said. “Take it one day at a time. No one is asking for more than that of you.”

He reached across the console to cup her cheek, pulling her in for a long kiss. His lips glided over hers, parting them with his tongue and she met him halfway. Her hands clutched his shoulders as he deepened the kiss. It was over all too soon as he let her go, his forehead coming to rest against hers.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “You give me strength, Cassie. I hope you know that.”

“It goes both ways,” she said. “I told you a year ago when you were still fighting the inevitability of us that we’re better together.”

“Are you seriously saying, ‘I told you so’ right now?” he said with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with silent laughter.

“Gotta get my digs where I can, babe,” she retorted. “How many times will I get the chance to tell the Ethan Ramsey that I was right and he was wrong?”

He shook his head in amusement before turning to pop open the trunk, unfastening his seatbelt and swinging open the car door.

“Don’t speed on your way back to the city,” he warned, handing her the car keys.

“Please,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand as she too exited the car. “The cops will never catch me.”

“Not the point, Rookie,” he said, glaring at her across the car roof. “This car has never been pulled over for anything, and we’re not breaking that record now.”

“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes in mock annoyance.

She had never received a speeding ticket either. Not that Mister Responsible believed her. Besides, what he didn’t know couldn’t get her into trouble.

Alan Ramsey walked over and Cassie exchanged pleasantries as Ethan grabbed his overnight bag from the trunk. 

She watched father and son walk inside—Ethan’s stride more certain than it had been this morning when they left his apartment—and knew that everything would be alright.

Maybe not today or tomorrow; but one day, he would look back on this moment and know that it was never too late to make amends for regrets.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging in reblog

[tripleaxelrose]

First Kiss #1: Mexico

Prompt: Nathan and Mariah got together waaaaaay later than everyone thinks.

Content warnings: A bit sexy. Involves a hot tub.

Middle of the night, Mexico. Everyone asleep, the air still warm, the lights from the hotels along the tourist strip painting a broad, bright stripe low across the horizon, or is it daylight creeping already? The cicadas chirp in drowsy unison. 

Everyone asleep except her, all of them having padded back to their rooms on unsteady bare feet hours before. 

The party never exactly gets wild, if it can even be called a party. They’re all alert enough at the end to remove their empties and dump them in the blue plastic recycling bin that stands just inside the suite door. It’s just a lot of laughing, jokes they can’t repeat not because they’re too dirty or insulting but because no one can ever remember them the next morning. 

As everyone leaves, she spies two of her friends with their arms around each other’s shoulders, wound in such a way that it surprises her – a kind of intimacy she recognizes so immediately that it conjures a flat, jealous lurch across the bottom of her belly. Until this moment, she has no idea that they’re together. Together… in that way. And maybe they weren’t until tonight. Maybe they aren’t. Maybe it’s the air, heavy with humidity, the hot tub jets pressing against the smalls of their backs. Maybe it made them realize something.   

She wonders idly what came next – if the two of them figured out how to quietly reshuffle their sleeping arrangements, one of them furtively trading keys with someone else, or if they dropped their arms, broke their touch, and went separately to their suites across the hall from each other, following along with the original plan. All of the room arrangements neatly delegated along platonic lines of friendship. Uncontroversial. A plan to combat tears, unnecessary complexity, awkwardness on the flight home. Awkwardness at breakfast. Awkwardness in the hot tub.

She finds herself hoping that they figured it out. How to find some time to themselves, in a room or somewhere else at the hotel, a nook to sneak away to. Her, the only one still outside, the hot tub jets long gone silent but the blue underwater lights still switched on. She roots for her friends, this odd new couple, in her heart. 

She leans on her elbows on the rim of the tub, her legs idly kicking behind her. It’s too hot to stay fully submerged. She’s taken her bikini top off, tired of its itchy woven fabric against her sensitive skin, has slung it over the edge next to her. She watches the rooftops of the buildings, can still hear people partying on the street. 

She knows she should go to bed. Pick up the last few empty bottles, cover the tub, dry off, wring out her hair, throw on clean underwear and a dry t-shirt and slide into the king-size bed on cool cotton sheets next to a girl she’s known since she was nine. Not him. Not someone who will touch her across the expanse of that too-big mattress. 

And suddenly, all at once, she’s furious at Nathan. 

I have been waiting in a really cute bikini in a hot tub all night long, she fumes. Ok, so there are people around. Ok, fine. Well, then let’s figure something out. We could get another room. We could go somewhere. We could, oh, I don’t know, have an actual conversation about it, imagine that. 

But Nathan is asleep – one of the first to retire, as always. Running a hand through his floppy, humidity inflated hair, the water from the hot tub catching on the dark beads of the bracelet encircling his wrist. She is transfixed, imagining the beads pressing against her skin, when he sighs, standing up out of the water, the rivulets pouring off his back – narrow but corded with muscle – and she has to look away because she doesn’t trust what her face is doing. 

“Ok, guys, I’m done,” he says. “Love you all. I’m turning into a pumpkin.”    

“Ok, grandpa,” she quips, tossing back at him a different flavor of a phrase that he has dared to lob at her so often. When he is the one who needs twelve hours of beauty rest, forever mumbling something about it improving his performance, only he sounds more like a 75-year-old in a Viagra commercial than a 23-year-old Olympian.

Everyone laughs, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he flashes a wicked grin in her direction, drops one hand into the water, and hits her with a single drenching splash. She shrieks and he laughs, but he continues back to his room, carefully closing the slider behind him to not let the air conditioning escape. 

She thinks – stupidly, of course, how could she be so stupid – that tonight might be the night. But it turns out to be nothing – the sun, the afternoon spent lounging, sipping too-sweet drinks delivered on the hour by polo-shirted hotel staff. All of them a bit dizzy in the heat, Nathan in the chair next to her on his stomach, his cheek resting on his folded arms, his eyes disappeared behind a pair of new sunglasses – dark-tinted, designer. Again, her trying not to sneak glances at him, at the divot at the small of his bare back, his skin shining with some mega-caliber sunscreen. Because he is always so ridiculously responsible. 

And she is just plain ridiculous, thinking that their weeks of flirtation were leading up to something. Weeks spent touring the country, appearing together on the ice every night, their eyes seeking out no one but each other during the group numbers, during dinner, the two of them always sitting together, one of his hands always idly brushing against her somewhere – her shoulder in her sequined costume or trailing along her spine while they snap a photo for a fan. Or once in the middle of a rehearsal, the choreographer halfway through the instructions, when Nathan idly reaches over and runs a hand under the hem at the back of her sweatshirt, his fingers resting warm on her bare skin underneath. It only lasts for an instant, but it sends her scurrying straight into the ladies room – skates still on, sitting on the closed lid of a toilet, pressing her hands against her burning cheeks for ten minutes while she pulls herself together. She emerges to concerned glances from a few of her female castmates, oblivious non-acknowledgement from the guys, and nothing from Nathan, until just before they all leave the ice to head back to the buses. When he winks at her. 

He winks at her. How dare he?

And all the while, the banter between them stays mostly the same as it has always been, the two of them teasing each other about the same things they’ve been teasing each other about through decades of friendship. Him being boring and methodical. Her being a bit too loud, too forward, too perky, his word. But is he actually responsible? Boring? She cannot shake it, the feeling of his fingertips on her back, the way it radiates outward through her whole body an instant later, all of her slightly too warm. And is she too forward? Because here she is, in a knot of herself, grappling endlessly over whether to say something to him. Whether to keep quiet. Whether to pretend that everything is the way it has always been, all while she thinks of him at night, restless and awake, her hand between her legs.  

She knows that she should just let it go. 

Maybe he’s just riding the wave of confidence after his gold medal win. Maybe he’s trying these things on her because she’s just… there. She has always been there. And it’s a kind of experiment for him – like anything else he’d try in the lab at college. Just to bear something out. Test a theory. Maybe she is safe for him, the girl who will stay his friend no matter what happens and where his hands idly wander.

The more she thinks about it, the more she wants to strangle him, and the more she wants to weep for her idiot self. Besides, he’s going back to school soon. The time left for an experiment, even a failed one, runs short. 

She stands up, feels the air – still warm but so much cooler than the water – hit her skin. She should really go inside. She crosses her arms, feels the goose flesh rise on her shoulders. She does not hear the sliding door glide open behind her. She is caught up looking at the lights, feeling the sadness pool in the pit of her stomach, liking the feeling of it – almost. It is better than feeling nothing. Better than being just friends. 

“Hey.” 

She spins around, startled, not thinking. When it registers who it is, she scrambles for her bikini top but only manages to clutch it, limp and too small to cover anything, against her skin. 

And him? He stands there in his swim trunks, barefoot and smooth skinned, his hair still mussed from sleep. And he is deadly silent for an instant, his eyes adjusting to the site of her standing there. She notices a muscle twitch in his jaw. Then he does something that fully enrages her. He smiles. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, sheepish, looking away from her, down at his hands, at a nondescript spot somewhere over her left shoulder. He’s still smiling. 

“Nathan.” 

“I’ll just… I’ll go back inside. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Nathan.” 

“No, It’s OK, really. I didn’t realize…” He backs away from her more slowly than his nervous voice betrays. 

“Nathan, get back here and stop being an idiot.” 

He freezes. Holds up his hands like she’s pointed a gun at him. His grin settles into something else, a wry look of amusement, but his feet don’t move. 

“If you came out here to get in the hot tub, get in the hot tub,” she says, trying hard to maintain her irritation, trying harder to ignore the flutter of nervousness in her chest. “Just… give me a second.”

She turns her back to him, begins the work of untangling the strings of her top so she can put it back on. As much as she has wanted him to notice her on this trip, she suddenly feels shy and more than a bit foolish in front of him. He hasn’t seen much of her, she reasons. He wouldn’t care even if he did. Mostly, she just wants to go back to her room. To leave him to his late-night soak, to curl up in bed and feel the empty ache inside her, to not hand him any more opportunities to soothe it away – opportunities he will inevitably squander.  

She thinks she’s hearing things at first, but then he says it again, unmistakeable.  

“No.” 

She ignores him, focusing on a particularly stubborn knot in one strap. When he gets into the tub behind her, the water ripples around her thighs. 

“Turn around.” 

It is less a request than a command, and she feels it, the knife of desire cut through her. Her hands stop moving. She feels him move closer more than she sees it, and by the time he is just a few inches away, facing her still-turned back, she is shivering, and not from the air. 

“Come on,” he says, more gently this time, and when she turns to face him, she crosses her arms to cover herself again – she can’t help it – the bikini top still wound around her fingers. His sheepishness vanished, he reaches toward her and she startles, hugging herself even more tightly for an instant before they both dissolve into a fit of laughter.  

When they are both serious again, he lifts a soggy tendril of hair that’s stuck to her shoulder, brushes it behind her back. 

“Can I look?” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. When she doesn’t move, he reaches down and touches the backs of her hands, draws them gently away from her breasts. She feels lightheaded, can feel her heartbeat pounding on the surface of her skin. He untangles the bikini top from her fingers, drops it into the water beside them without a sound.

She almost wants him to step back and give her a leering once-over. Imagines her  retort. (Take a picture, it’ll last longer.) Because she can’t fall to pieces now. Won’t let him know that she’s been waiting. And waiting. Won’t give him the satisfaction. 

But he doesn’t stare at her body. He barely moves, in fact, except to raise a hand to the side of her face, to trace the edge of her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. He looks nowhere but in her eyes, his own flickering with something hungry, suddenly deadly serious.

“You know,” she says, steadying herself, reaching for her last grain of resolve, “It’s pretty ridiculous that you haven’t kissed me, y…” 

His mouth is on hers before she can get the last syllable out and it dissolves into something else as it leaves her, a wordless gasp against his parted lips. Because he doesn’t just kiss her. He kisses her with such urgency – but somehow still slow, so slowly – that her knees wobble. When he presses her against him, her bare skin against his chest, she wraps her arms around his neck partly because she cannot bear another moment of not touching him, and partly to stop herself from tumbling into the water.  

When he abruptly breaks off the kiss and laughs, soft, his breath against her lips, his arms still around her, she wills herself not to worry. Not to think that she failed this part of the experiment. 

“What?” She doesn’t mean to sound pleading, but she doesn’t quite trust it, the sudden amusement in his eyes. 

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to,” he says, his voice a raspy whisper in the almost-dark, the warm water sloshing around them. Then it’s her turn to laugh. 

“I… yeah, I definitely wanted you to. Want to. I mean.”

“Oh really?”

He’s teasing her now, one hand idly tracing the vertical line of her spine as he presses her close. He knows, more than knows, she wants to. When he bends down to place a kiss on her shoulder, runs the backs of his fingers – finally, she thinks, desperate and slightly impatient – against the hardening knot of one of her nipples, she steps back and takes him by the hand. 

She guides him down beside her, relieved to be submerged up to her shoulders. Knowing he can feel more of her than he can see, it makes her feel less nervous, more sure of herself. His fingers find ties on her swimsuit bottoms, reach lower with a precision that leaves her moaning, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. She wonders idly how far this can or should go, and finds the answer in short order. If she is the experiment, she realizes, she is more than willing to let him try any of the variables he likes. And there are more than she expects.

She is wrangling the waistband of his soggy swim trunks, her breathing ragged, when he stops her. (Because he is responsible, of course. Because no one has said a word about a condom. Because maybe he changed his mind about her. About this. About everything.)

Instead of drawing away from her, though – she can imagine it so clearly, him stepping out of the hot tub and back into the hotel room without a word – he hovers in closer, presses a soft kiss against her lips.

“We should probably slow down,” he says, the regret in his voice palpable. “Unfortunately.”

“I don’t want you to slow down,” she says, suddenly, before she can stop herself. “I want to… I want you.” 

Well, she thinks. I’ve done it now. This is the part where he will walk away. Leave her to retrieve the scraps of her cute new bathing suit, maybe level a splash evenly in her face as he departs. He will leave her to empty the recycling bin of empties, even. She is so sure.

Instead he laughs. “And I have never wanted anything in my life more than I want you right now. As… uh, you probably realized. But we should probably talk.”

“I know.” 

“I’m leaving.” 

“I know.” 

“I’m leaving but I don’t want to leave you,” he says. 

She moves to stand – because she is worried about what she might say or do, if she might cry or shout at him or collapse on his shoulder – all minor disasters. But he stops her again. Lays a hand on her shoulder. Steps gingerly out of the hot tub and crosses the deck in the darkness. 

He comes back with one of the enormous, high-thread-count towels that they’ve all been lounging on, tossing into soggy piles in corners, all day. He holds it out for her, end to end. 

“Come on,” he says. “I won’t look.” 

‘Sure you won’t,” she laughs. 

“Ok, I might look a little bit.”

Wrapping it around her, he turns her around, rubs her shoulders like someone would do to comfort a little kid, help them warm up after leaving the comfort of the warm water for the cool air. She is not cold. 

“I wish we had a place to go,” she says. “Where we could actually talk, I mean.” 

“Yeah, all bedrooms occupied in there,” he says, gesturing back to the suite of rooms. “A little more occupied than expected, I think.” 

“Oh you saw that?” 

“I saw it. I heard it in there too, unfortunately.” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “I was surprised.” 

“Same.” 

“But also not surprised, in a way. They kind of make sense.” 

“Do you think we make any sense?” 

He smiles but doesn’t answer, extends an arm to guide her to the other side of the balcony, to where there’s an empty lounger. He’s laid out another towel on it, something she didn’t notice when he left her in the hot tub. He sits on it sideways, makes a motion for her to sit next to him and she does, awkward, their shoulders touching, her wrapped in the towel, careful to keep herself covered although she doesn’t quite know why. He has just seen – has touched – so much. 

“This is stupid. We should just lay down,” she says.

“Oh, thank god. OK,” he says, exhaling with relief. 

They maneuver themselves side-by-side on the lounger with more than a little effort, peals of half-stifled giggles, and a genuine – and mostly failed – effort on her part to keep most of her sensitive areas covered. The party on the street below has quieted down, the breeze picked up. She shivers and he holds her close. They watch the starless sky, feeling the rise and fall of each other’s breathing.

“What if we fall asleep like this?” she wonders, breaking their long silence. 

“Everyone will find us in the morning. And they will wonder what happened to your bathing suit.”  

“Oh, I should get it out of there! Gross.”  

“Shh, come on. Lay back down. You’ll get it later,” he says, resettling her against his chest. He places a kiss on her forehead. She can feel it, the goose flesh rising on his arms. 

“Everyone’s going to have a lot of questions in the morning,” she says. 

He lets out a laugh, brushes her damp hair off her back. “Somehow, I don’t think they’ll be surprised.” 

[capturethechaos]

45 & Danny

fluff

Words - 601

Prompt 45. “Who ate all the chocolates from the advent calendar?”

a/n - I'm sorry for the super late updates the past couple days, I'm really cutting it down to the minutes with these blurbs, I'm just going through some shit. But I am bound and determined to get these out for y'all I promise.

Danny woke up December fifteenth, sliding out of bed and noting the absence of his girlfriend. He made his way into the kitchen to make coffee. The usual sight that had welcomed him every morning since the beginning of the group's trip had changed. The line of Advent Calendars that had adorned the counter had been emptied and stacked at the end of the surface.

He walked into the living room, seeing Y/n asleep on the couch, and Sam curled up on one of the chairs.

“Alright— who ate all the chocolates from the advent calendars?” He asked, raising his voice loud enough to wake up both Y/n and Sam.

The two lulled their heads towards Danny, lazily pointing at each other. Danny rolled his eyes, walking back into the kitchen.

Y/n cracked open her eyes, watching him as he walked away.

“Babe— Danny, wait.” She said, rolling off of the couch and putting out her hands to stop her from face planting into the carpet.

She lifted herself from the floor, stalking into the kitchen to see Danny taking apart the boxes and recycling the pieces.

“Danny?” She said, resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Sam and I may or may not have gotten— very baked last night— and those were the only chocolates we could find without making too much noise.” She explained.

“Come on babe, put some pep in your step. It’s the holiday season, let yourself feel holly jolly.” She said, bouncing around in an attempt to cheer him up.

“I am not feeling very holly jolly right now.” He replied, throwing away the last box and walking over to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“How about this baby— we take a day trip to get new advent calendars for everybody, and I will buy you whichever one you want.” She said, walking up to him and grabbing his face in her hands.

He thought about it for a moment, a pensive look on his face as he lifted his mug to his face.

“I guess.” He said, taking a sip and giving her a smile as he lowered the mug.

“Alright, let’s enjoy our coffee, then we can head out okay?” She said, pouring herself a cup and leaning against the counter next to Danny.

He nodded his head in agreement, and the two stood in a comfortable silence as they drank their coffee, listening to the quiet sounds of everybody waking up in the morning.

“Josh is not going to be happy when he comes out and sees that his advent calendar isn't there.” Danny commented, taking the empty coffee cup from Y/n’s hands and placing it in the sink with his own.

“We should probably leave before he comes out.” She said, and Danny quickly agreed.

The two moved as quickly as they could to get dressed and ready to leave. Once they were ready, they walked towards the front door.

“Where are you two off to?” Sam asked, walking out of the kitchen clutching a cup of coffee.

“Going on a day trip to get more snacks, we’ll be back in a bit.” Y/n explained as she pulled on her shoes.

The sound of Josh’s bedroom door opening made Danny and Y/n look at each other frantically, reaching for the doorknob as Josh made his way down the hallway.

“Day fifteen everybody! Time for chocolate!” He yelled as he walked into the kitchen.

As Danny and Y/n walked down the driveway towards their car, they heard a loud gasp.

“Where the hell is my chocolate?!”

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[sunnygrey99]

Lost Family Pt. 1

Prompt: You are Barry’s sister that the military had taken due to an “unnatural condition” and you’ve recently broken away from the military.

(Hopefully, this will be a full-blown story that involves reader/Harry Wells. Roughly starting after zoom. There will also be some other OCS to fill out specific roles such as political figures, military, and other individuals. Reader’s name to government-affiliated people will be called Jane Jones)

~Trigger warnings: kidnapping, torture, violence, vague mentions of death and taking life.

These themes will be present in almost all chapters. Any other triggers for individual chapters will be listed separately. If I have left anything else please let me know and I’ll be sure to add it. Enjoy~

Sunlight poured into the small window in the cell you were in which woke you up suddenly. A series of angry beeps let you know someone was entering your cell block. You knew they were coming to either give you another mission or “re-train” you for your previous mission failure. The familiar boots stomping down the long hallway coming to your cell told you that it was the big boss, which could only mean bad things to come. Trying your best to stay calm and quiet you sat with perfect posture like the good robot they wanted. This time you had a plan to get out though. There was only a couple-second window that would free you and you had to pick exactly the right time. The large glass door slid open with a hiss as the recycled air was forced through. You didn’t dare make a move other than the flick of your eye to see how many exactly were there. Luckily it was just the big boss and a single other guard. Unluckily it was one that you liked. You couldn’t help but notice the strange look on her face as they stopped right past the door.

“Stand.” the general harshly ordered. You followed stiffly with what he said. As he started to approach with the dampener you knew it was now or never. You swiftly grabbed his wrist, twisting him around to hit the wall. He tried to turn back to fight you but you were too quick for him and knocked him out. Then you heard the click of a gun’s safety, turning slightly with your hands up and you smiled at her.

“Issa, You know I don’t want to hurt you.” slowly taking a step closer she held her gun a bit more firm.

“And you know I can’t let you just go Jane.” Issa frowns slightly. You know she would love to let you go but the government would have her executed. She nodded so small that the camera in your cell wouldn’t even be able to pick it up. She knew what you had to do and would let it happen. You smiled at her and whispered in her ear as you whipped around her putting her in a headlock after disarming her. “I’m sorry, but I hope you get out too.”

After she slumped over and passed out you laid her on the bed before you grabbed her and the general’s key cards. It was a rush against time now and you had to move. As you rushed out the glass door and down the hall you felt the energy slowly come back to you. It was almost disorienting. Door after door you passed through no problem, but as soon as you passed the last door a group of soldiers faced you with their weapons aimed. Most of them looked scared although a few were far too confident. Obviously, they didn’t know who they were holding weapons against.

In a matter of milliseconds, you felt your body heat up and push a wave of heat towards the group. Some dropped their guns and started to run. Then your eyes glazed over with smokey white and black, light shining through every vein in your arms and chest as you reared back and focused a blow straight at the ground in front of the group. It sent shock waves through the ground throwing them back. Running as fast as you could, you smiled over your shoulder. This was your out and you knew exactly where you were going next. You pushed off the ground leaving a small crater behind as you flew off towards the stunning central city.

As you approached the city you saw the police department. Landing outside the block in a dark alley you walked the rest of the way to the station. On the way up you froze and then waved a hand changing the clothes you were wearing into something more normal. A dark green and black uniform became a black turtleneck and slacks with an oversized green coat. Hopefully presentable enough and not to raise suspicion to the officers there. The doors of the elevator opened and you approached the desk pretending to be a reporter, asking the officer where the CSI agent Barry might be.

“Yeah, he’s probably still here. His office is upstairs at the last door on the left.” the officer pointed and then went right back to his work. You turned to head there. Once you entered the office you looked around hoping to see anyone but your heart fell as you didn’t see anyone. At the very least you took the opportunity to look around the office and see what your brother does for a living. It hadn’t been but a few minutes before you heard a whooshing sound and felt a small breeze. You looked around and saw a form in the corner. Something clatters and a man stumbles trying to clean it up.

“Hey I didn’t see you there, can I help you with something?”He sounded flustered and surprised. You smiled at him and stepped closer.

“Are you Barry Allen?” you said smiling at him with so much hope in your heart. He nodded at you as he stood. “I’m (Y/N) Allen. I’m your sister.”

His smile faded as confusion took over. “I’m sorry you must be mistaken… I’m an only child.”

You nodded and pulled an old crumpled paper from your coat pocket. Handing it over unfolded to show Barry. “This is my birth certificate. I’m six years older than you, and we both have the same parents. I trust the person that gave me this information wouldn’t lie or make it up. I don’t know everything that happened but I have enough information to hopefully have you believe me.” He stares at the paper and stares for a long moment.

“I think I need to make a call to my dad.” He looked up, “Not like my birth dad, just my adoptive dad. Maybe he knows something. I’ll be very angry if he does and he’s been hiding it, but I’d love to know if this is the truth.”

Part 2