#and there are no replacement membranes in the world to fix them when they die... so we are battling among scarcer and scarcer supply.

[princessnijireiki]

the perpetual horrors of They Stopped Making The Thing I Like

[separatist-apologist]

Cruel Summer

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?

Summary: It was supposed to be a summer trip around Europe before Elain Archeron settled into life as a post-grad. It was supposed to be nothing more than a 2,000 year old wall built by a long dead Roman Emperor. It was supposed to be fun.

So why is Elain Archeron trapped in a strange world filled to the brim with magic and men in masks who refuse to let her leave? Something isn't right and Elain is determined to get to the bottom of her accidental shift in the world.

Or die trying.

Outlander-ish IDK you know what you're getting from me at this point just come inside.

Chapter 5: I Once Believed Love Would Be Burning Red

Read more: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | AO3

Night wore on and the groaning dead was replaced with true battle…and now Lucien. Bron was antsy, setting Elain in front of a dying campfire. He wanted to join in the war, was a warrior first. It was unfair to keep him, to force him to babysit her. “Go,” she told him, her mind constantly assaulted by a barrage of images she wished she could not see. Elain, Elain, Elain. That voice was a terrible thing. 

“I can’t abandon you,” Bron hedged, already moving towards the fighting. Elain went to him, sliding her hand down his leg without him realizing—taking one of his blades without asking.  A new image, of Hybern’s severed head, of a blade she’d never seen puncturing the skin, of her made of mist and shadow, her skin dotted with blood, assaulted her senses. Elain forced herself to smile, to turn her wide eyes on his face, to let him see the human beneath the veneer of fae. 

“What trouble could I get into?”

That seemed to pacify Bron, who clearly had forgotten all the trouble they’d gotten into before. He vanished, leaving her alone in that massive camp, waiting on a man she knew she wouldn’t see until this ended. She wanted to see Lucien without the mask, wanted to touch his face—touch him. He would know what was going on with her, what terrible roiling mess now churned through her gut.

Elain stood, walking slowly in her ruined white dress given alongside her magic. This army she hid in had been unleashed in the valley below, fighting alongside Nesta’s army of the dead. Elain understood what needed to happen but not when. Only how. She knew how to wrap her magic about her body like a well-worn cloak, knew how to step through the world, conjuring soft, sunlit wind to envelope her body…to take her back to Hybern and that Cauldron that should never have existed.

To Feyre and other people she didn’t know, trying desperately to shatter that Cauldron. Elain watched, bathed in shadow. Watched that dark haired man approach, watched that winged creature throw his body over Nesta’s, shredding the thin membranes of his skin. How Nesta flung out the last ravages of her power desperately while Hybern mocked—laughed. All while the wind sang. Elain, Elain, Elain.

And she understood, reaching for her stolen blade, why the wall had beckoned her in the first place. Not for that love, that bond, but because someone had to be there for this moment. Someone had to set it all in motion. Elain, Elain, Elain. 

It was a cruel fate set upon all three of them, to be asked to fix this world. To break themselves apart for some sliver of good, some promise of happiness. Elain’s eyes snagged on the wounded warrior who had come to protect Nesta. Nesta didn’t look at him with kindness, with affection—like she knew him at all. Pointed, arched ears, the immortal glow…Nesta, the corporate lawyer and Nesta, wielder of death itself. What did that make her, she wondered? Did it even matter?” No. All that mattered was Elain took that step from the shadows and did exactly as she was supposed to. “Don’t you touch my sister,” she snarled, her voice a gunshot in the dark. Hybern, who had thought nothing of her the entire time he’d had her in his clutches, went utterly rigid. Nesta rose to her feet like a Queen, her rage palpable and dark. Elain darted back to Nesta could finish what Hybern had started long before any of them had ever been born, severing his head as if she’d been born a warrior—born to do this.

That winged fairy had to pry his hair from her hands, staring at her like he’d never seen the sun before. As if Nesta were the only thing in the world. Nesta didn’t notice, was looking at Feyre, bowed over the Cauldron. Over that dark haired man who Elain had forgotten about. Rhysand. Andras’s killer. And her sister clawing at his unmoving chest screaming in agony. Elain recognized that sound. She had one made the same as the mating bond in her chest shredded to nothing. Winked out like a candle, leaving her hollow and empty. 

“Please,” Feyre begged, while Nesta trembled at Elain’s side, bloodied and bruised and traumatized. They’d come to find her, to make sure she was safe. Elain had imagined a soft reunion, a return to Spring and the softness she’d found within those strange, cursed borders. It was all wrong no matter how the world writhed and danced around her, pleased that things had been set right. Some ancient prophecy fulfilled, a return of long forgotten princesses. 

Six High Lords came, offering a piece of themselves to resurrect Rhysand. Elain wasn’t sure that was wise though she didn’t dare say so, not in the wake of her sister's terrible suffering. Elain wouldn’t wish that on her worst enemy…who, she supposed, was lying on the ground, having sacrificed himself to wreck that Cauldron. No more women would go in, would have done to them what had been done to Nesta and Elain.

He came back with a soft gasp of air, reaching for Feyre as his first act. Nesta watched with Elain, threading her fingers through Elain’s, her face still smeared with blood. “We’re never going back, are we?”

Elain meant to answer. No, we’re not human, we can’t go back to highrises and nine to fives, but she felt the burning, curious eyes of him. Somewhere in that mass of soldiers, Lucien was watching, searching. Had found her. Elain scanned but didn’t see him. She wondered if he didn’t want her too. Doubt crept in, drawing Ianthe’s last words to her mind. Maybe, she thought with a small amount of fear, he didn’t care. 

“Come on,” Nesta tugged at Feyre's hand when people began to disperse, hunting down the remainder of Hyberns army and licking their wounds. There had been no proper greeting, no reunion the way Elain had hoped. She pushed past Rhysand, who ran a hand through that ink black hair, eyes widening with surprise.

“It’s you again.”

“I haven’t forgiven you,” Elain replied, noting how Feyre’s back stiffened, eyes sliding to this man with curiosity. Rhysand’s smile stretched over his pale, half-dead face. 

“I will endeavor to change that. I did help you once, you know. And I kept your secret long after you left.”

Elain swallowed when Rhysand offered her a tanned hand. “To new beginnings, little human.” She took it hesitantly which only seemed to amuse him. “Immortality suits you, Elain.”

“Go away,” Elain shooed and Rhysand did, leaving them on that battlefield, surrounded by the pieces of the Cauldron that, just a night before, had stolen their lives.

“You couldn’t write?” were Nesta’s first trembling words. “We thought you were in Paris.”

“I was,” Feyre said sheepishly. “I took a boat over…just to see. Once I got here, I couldn’t go back. Trust me, I tried.”

“You broke their curse,” Elain added gently, reaching for Feyre’s freckled cheek. Feyre smiled. 

“Have you talked to him yet?”

“No,” Elain all but whispered. Feyre inclined her head to the side, gesturing to a body Elain was too scared to fully look at.

“You should. He’s been obnoxiously helpful ever since I got here.” “High praise,” a rich, deep voice replied, the sound skittering up her spine. Of course. It’s you. 

She turned her head, every inch of her trembling with fear, with hope, with the worry he’d moved on or worse—that the bond between them was nothing more than a memory, that they’d lost it when she left and Lucien would be a mere stranger to her now.

He looked just as scared when their eyes met. For a moment there was nothing else, no one else. Only his face, just as she’d dreamed it would be. Perfect. Golden brown skin swept over every inch of his beautiful face. Strong nose, sharp cheekbones all highlighted the strength of his jaw and the curving sweep of his lips. Elain might have stared for the rest of her life had a violent, twanging snap drawn a soft “Oh,” from her lips. 

Lucien stumbled forward and Elain forgot they were being watched, perhaps too carefully as she flung herself into his waiting arms. 

And Elain was home.

~*~

In all Lucien’s life, he’d never know how he made it through that night. Hacking and slashing until he was coated in blood and gore. His first war—and, he hoped, his last. Her name was a prayer on the wind. His mate. Elain, Elain, Elain. He wanted to see her, to know if the bond would resnap. It propelled him forward, forced him to continue slicing through enemies, hoping he’d find her, that he could take her out of this place, squirrel her away somewhere safe.

Her sister, the one commanding the army of the undead, shimmered with an immortal glow. Her eyes shone silver, her ears pointed and arched. It filled Lucien with dread every time he caught sight of her, back to back with Cassian, whose curved blade hacked enemies for Nesta Archeron to resurrect and induct into her service. 

There was no sight of Elain until dawn broke over the horizon and Feyre’s piercing scream, along with a ceasefire, stilled them all. Lucien shoved to the front, noting the way Hybern’s army had begun to flee the way they’d come, chased by more than a few vengeful Illyrians. Rhysand—dead, at the edge of the fractured Cauldron while Feyre screamed at the bond he was sure had snapped in her chest. Nesta Archeron held the head of Hybern in her hands, grasping his dark hair with her broken, bloodied nails.

And Elain, her beautiful face splattered with blood, a blade clutched in her hand so tightly Lucien could see the whites of her knuckles. He wanted to pry it from her hands, wanted to get her out of this. Elain, with her sweet smiles and her games on the Spring Court lawn hardly belonged here, coated in blood. 

His eyes drifted to her own skin, shimmering and practically iridescent. Her ears arched and pointed just as Nesta and Feyre’s were. It was as if some inner light had been poured into her body, leaking from every pore to enhance the beauty that had always existed. Even in war, Elain was so heartbreakingly stunning.

He didn’t move, not when the other High Lord’s brought Rhysand back to life or when Feyre, Nesta, and Elain turned to each other. Cassian pried the head from Nesta’s hands and Lucien wondered if he didn’t have a connection to the eldest Archeron the way he and Rhysand had to Elain and Feyre. 

There was still no bond between them and Lucien was terrified there wouldn’t be. Not until Elain seemed to sense him watching, turning her head of golden brown curls to the spectators. Her eyes found his as Lucien begged for things to return as they were, staggering backwards when the snap reverberated painfully through his chest. She ripped against it, dragging him a stumbling, inelegant step forward as a sob escaped her throat. He caught her against him, ignoring the looks from her sisters, from Rhysand and Cassian, from Beron and Eris and everyone still lingering too close. Let them all wonder, he thought, sweeping her bloodied form off the ground and striding away.

“Hey–!” Feyre called but Lucien didn’t stop. Feyre would almost certainly try and interfere but not today. Not after nearly two years of being separated from his very heart. Lucien wove his way through the sea of tents, wondering where, after this day, he would take her. He very much doubted Feyre would be amenable to Spring and Lucien wasn’t willing to see Elain shut into Night. 

He’d worry about it tomorrow, he decided as he shoved the flaps of his nondescript tent to the side. In the dark, Lucien dropped to the cot he’d been sleeping on, holding her in his lap. Elain was trembling, eyes never leaving her face. “What happened?” he murmured, fingers tracing her face. “What did that bastard do to you?” “I stabbed him,” she said, her first words since they’d said goodbye. 

“Tell me what happened.”

Elain sucked in a breath and then, arms twined around his neck, started from the very beginning. He’d expected a tale of Hybern, of whatever he’d done but Elain spoke of going back through the wall and the ordeal of the snapped bond. It was reassuring, in a strange way, to know it was not just him who’d suffered. He could have done without all the details of Graysen, who he knew she included so Lucien would be aware that Elain had at least tried to uphold his request, even if she failed. It was comforting in a way to hear she’d taken up with another male so she could feel close to him, even if he would have preferred no male ever touch his mate. 

Elain’s guilt wove through her tale—finding joy when she didn’t want to, in picking up her old life and moving on…and not recognizing Feyre had been gone as long as she had. He interrupted then, answering her own questions and piecing together their two sides of misery. Trapped beneath the mountain, saved by a strange human woman who had heard of Prythian from her near catatonic sister. A curse broken in hopes of helping Elain find joy, only to realize she could not return like Elain had—even as a human, Feyre could not go back. She’d been forced through to fulfill a destiny she didn’t know she had and unlike Elain, who had done perfectly well as a human among the fae, Feyre seemed to have been born for this life. Feyre, who had found her mate, who had helped end two different wars without having to be asked. They owed the Archeron’s so much. 

Lucien’s stomach clenched when he learned Elain and Nesta came through the ruined wall, unaware there would be no way back for them. He wondered how Nesta would fare, given she’d never meant to stay, had only wanted to ensure her sisters were safe before she returned. Intercepted by Hybern, who had been monitoring Spring. Lucien had known that, had been hunting his beasts down in that very same wood merely a day after. While Ianthe had been taunting him, Elain had been forced into the Cauldron to die alone, twisting and remade within its inky depths.

He held her tighter as she described it. Magic, she murmured, fluttered through her veins, whispering secrets she had no right to know. Elain explained the wind and how it chanted those words, teaching her to winnow, how to grip her blade and where exactly to strike. Not sinister—a Seer. She seemed to know even when he spoke the words aloud, as if she’d heard it whispered, too. What else had the world shared with her, he wondered? Wide, liquid eyes peered at him with too much understanding and Lucien suspected she might have been gifted that magic even if she’d never been dipped into the Cauldron at all. Elain had that way about her, just always seemed to guess right. 

“It’s over now,” Lucien whispered, slamming the walls of his mind shut when he felt Feyre’s clawed presence raking up his senses. What are you doing with my sister?

Whatever I like, was his sneering response before those walls closed on her. Elain cocked her head but didn’t move and Lucien, irritated by Feyre’s meddling, murmured, “Tell her to mind her own business.”

“She’s only concerned,” came Elain’s too understanding response. “And wants to know if we’d like to return to a place called Velaris.”

“Not yet,” Lucien murmured, his lips pressed against her temple. “Not until—”

A screaming interrupted his words. He scrambled upwards while Elain stood beside, her face unnervingly calm. Elain slid her hand into his. “Day Court?” she murmured, peering up at him owlishly. 

“We’re going to have to work on your delivery,” Lucien grumbled. “I only learned yesterday.”

“You look good in white,” she told him sweetly, her earnest words almost erasing their horrible setting and the horror that enveloped them. Lucien pushed through a gathered crowd, noting the overwhelming heat that radiated.

Elain gasped at the sight of Beron, a bolt of faebane shoved through his chest. He laid in the middle of Autumn’s camp, eyes staring towards the sky unseeing. It was hardly a mystery who had plunged that wood into the High Lord—Lucien’s mother stood defiant, her face bloodied and bruised while her eldest son, just behind her, was bathed in the all consuming magic that marked him heir. 

“Did you see that coming?” Lucien asked, wishing she could have warned him ahead of time. Elain merely shook her head, taking a step behind his body. 

“No,” she admitted. “But I sense it’s well-deserved.”

“A long time coming,” Lucien murmured, catching Helion’s Spell-Cleavers form in the distance, eyes pinned on his mothers back. “I don’t know if I’m ready for the fall out.”

“Is there nowhere we can go?” she asked softly, lacing her fingers through his own. “Even for the night?”

Lucien opened his mouth, turning his back to Beron’s body and the messy, overly complicated politics that were surely about to erupt for Autumn. Good fucking luck, he thought to his elder brother, ushering Elain away. “Spring is in tatters.”

“Night, then,” Elain replied softly. “I want to leave this place.”

Feyre all but appeared at Elain’s elbows, eyes bright with mischief. “I’ve been summoned.”

Lucien sighed with exasperation but Feyre wasn’t having it. “You can have a very private room,” Feyre added.

“For what price?” he asked, noting the curved, half-wicked smile on her lips.

“No prince yet, prince of Day.”

Lucien narrowed his eyes but Elain pressed her head against his arm, eyes drooping. When had she last slept? The mating bond overrode all of Lucien’s good senses, prompting him to agree with a too-loud sigh.

“One very small favor,” Lucien grumbled, well aware Feyre could wring far more from him than one favor by the time it was all said and done. He had her sister, after all. He would be duty bound to help Feyre and her mate as a gift to his soon-to-be-wife, and Feyre knew it.

“What’s going on with that preening bat and your sister?” Lucien asked, all but dragging a stumbling, sleeping Elain towards the Night Court encampment. 

“A different sort of war,” Feyre murmured knowingly.

“Mates?”

“Who am I to say?” Feyre replied, glancing towards Elain, her body all but sagging against Lucien. He hoisted her back into his arms, letting her head thump heavily against his chest. He was tired, too, was struggling to hold her when the ground seemed as an appealing place as any to rest. 

“Did the bond…”

“Yes,” he agreed quickly. “Stronger than before.”

Feyre glanced towards Elain. “Did she say what the Cauldron gifted her?”

Lucien held Elain a little closer to his chest, lips pressed in a tight line. “She can share that, if she likes.”

“So protective,” Feyre grumbled. “I forgot how obnoxious mated males are.”

Lucien glanced to Rhysand, speaking with Kallias with a raised brow as though he’d heard her but couldn’t comment. Lucien, too, chose to keep his own thoughts to himself. Lucien merely adjusted Elain’s sleeping body in his arms and waited for Feyre to take him to Velaris with a rather pointed stare. She sighed.

“You’ll take care of her?”

Lucien decided not to take offense to Feyre’s words. “Of course.”

“She’s going to hate Night,” Feyre murmured. “Which is just as well given your father is Helion—”

“Am I the only one who did not know?” Lucien snapped, not daring to look for the male in question. 

“I suspect he doesn’t, either. That sort of obliviousness runs in the family,” Feyre said cheerfully. “But anyone with eyes can see it.”

She gripped Lucien’s forearm, taking him back to the city of starlight he had occasionally been granted access to. It was lovely, even bathed in daylight and blessedly untouched by the war that had ravaged through Spring and the human lands. Feyre had taken them just outside a townhouse in a nicer part of the city, its little lawn sprouting the first seedlings of grass.

“Nesta is in the House of Wind,” Feyre told him with a sigh, pushing open the door. “But I’m too tired to take you up there.”

“This is fine,” Lucien replied.

“She can stay as long as she likes,” Feyre added, granting him access to the High Lords' home. Lucien liked the sand and ivory color scheme, the tasteful decorations and well-designed furniture. The wood beneath his feet was far homier than marble and dotted about the walls were Feyre’s artwork, paintings he’d seen briefly when she’d lived among them in Spring, trying desperately to avoid the Night Court ruler and his terrible bargain.

Feyre took him up to a bedroom clearly built for someone with wings. Lucien was all too happy to put Elain down on the cream colored bedding, waiting for Feyre to leave so he could join her. He hadn’t missed her pointed words. She can stay as long as she likes. Not him, though. There was an expiration to his own visit and if Elain woke and decided she wanted to be with her sisters indefinitely, Lucien would eventually be forced to leave and ask permission to return. 

“Worry about that in the morning,” was Feyre’s response to his thoughts and too late, he’d forgotten about that fucking shield. 

“Good night, Feyre,” he replied, ignoring the way sunlight streamed cheerfully into the room. 

“Don’t forget a ward…Spell-cleaver,” she said, snapping the door shut without anger. A decent consideration, given how on top of each other they’d be and yet it almost felt presumptuous. Elain was passed out, practically curled in on herself. Lucien left her there for a bath before he finally joined her, carefully peeling her from her clothes without touching. 

It was bliss, he thought, face buried in her hair.

Home. 

~*~

For a moment, Elain thought she was back in Graysen’s apartment when she woke. It was cold and dark, just as his had always been, and she was pushed to one end of the bed while the body beside her was pressed against the other. No touching—Elain always broke down sobbing when Graysen cuddled her in her sleep. She believed him to be Lucien and couldn’t stand turning to look only to find Graysen’s dull eyes, his wrong face, his sleepy smile. Elain twisted, meaning to grab her phone and call a cab but her phone wasn’t on the nightstand…and the bed was far too large to belong to Graysen. The room was all wrong, too. Even in the dark, a sliver of moonlight slipped behind heavy curtains, pooling on hardwood floors. Chicago didn’t have a moon that bright.

She turned behind her, heart thumping in her chest at the red hair spilled over the pillow. Lucien lay on his back, the silken sheet draped over his naked hips, hand resting on his chest. Too late, Elain realized she was naked too, had likely been undressed by Lucien himself. She reached out a shaking hand to touch him, exhaling a soft, grateful sob when her hand met warm, solid flesh. It hadn’t been a dream. The shimmering bond pulling her towards him was still there. He was alive. 

Elain flung herself at him, pressing open mouthed kisses against his neck, his jaw, his ear. Lucien shifted, a soft moan slipping from his lips. “Go to sleep, Elain.” “Kiss me,” she insisted, pulling his face towards her. Lucien didn’t resist, shifting to his side as his mouth covered her own. Elain could have screamed at the feel of his lips pressed against her own, of the hungry way he immediately began devouring her. Lucien slid a hand through her hair, pulling her closer as she opened her mouth, needing to taste, to remember what it had been about him she’d once found so addicting.

“You’ve been through an ordeal,” Lucien groaned even as his body slid over her own, his mouth nipping and sucking against her neck. “You need to rest.”

“I need you,” she argued, raking her nails up and down his back. “I don’t want to sleep, I want you, Lucien—”

He covered her mouth with his again, grinding against her. Elain knew there would be no soft touches between them, no slow exploration. Not this night, not after the time that had separated them. She’d never hoped to feel the hard press of his body on her own, to have his calloused hands sliding on her skin and now that he was here, Elain needed him right now. 

Legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging against his bare ass, Lucien slid himself inside her without preamble. The thrust was almost punishing, drawing a soft gasp of air from both their lips. Elain arched against him, still clawing, still furiously kissing. 

“Oh, Gods,” Lucien groaned into her mouth, rolling his hips. He’d remained celibate when she’d left but Elain had the memory of Graysen and how she’d used him to chase the feeling of Lucien. How absurd, given how the real thing moved within her, his cock a thing of ecstasy. Gray had been nothing but a pale imitation and Elain wished she hadn’t even tried. 

“Need you,” Lucien managed, pulling her over his body, resituating them so she straddled his hips and controlled the motion between them. His hands flew to her breasts, teasing and tugging until Elain was a panting, writhing mess against him. Instinct made her grind her body against the solid muscle of his pelvis, chasing release from both the swollen bundle of nerves between her legs and the silky smooth glide of his cock within her body. Elain buried her face against Lucien’s neck, amazed by the symphony of scents that wafted around her. He was salty and musky, the scent of sun-warmed apples mixed against a smoky bonfire and chill autumn air. She wasn’t the only one driven by smell—Lucien ran his nose up and down the skin behind her ear, one hand tangled in her hair to keep her from going too far. 

He licked, shuddering a groan at whatever he tasted. His hips canted off the bed, other hand holding her hip to keep her still while he slammed into her, over and over and over until she couldn’t take it anymore. It was more than pleasure, a feeling so absolute Elain didn’t have to think about it. Just him, slick with sweat, and the utter rightness of being with him. If she’d been religious, it would have been holy, an act of divine worship. 

She came loudly, moaning his name over and over with a plea not to stop, even when she felt his erratic movement drawing him deeper, forcing him to spill himself when she suspected he would have preferred to hold out longer, to keep going. There was time, she tried to say with her still rolling hips, pulling every inch of pleasure she could get from him.

Lucien snarled, flipping her back to the bed, his mouth covering hers again with that same wild, punishing heat. Touch him, smell him, taste him—the instinct to keep going, to have more ran rampant through her, overwhelming every other thought. It was the frenzy all over again, urging them to complete the ritual, to give in and have him. Lucien was feeling it too, his cock still buried inside her, still hard and twitching. She imagined he needed very little time to recover, could keep going for the rest of the night, which was exactly what she wanted.

The voices on the wind were gone, unable to get through whatever magic Lucien had thrown around the room. She raked her fingers through his hair, holding his face in her hands. “I missed you,” she told him. “I love you, Lucien, I—” He silenced her with another scorching kiss, holding her so tight they could have melded into one person. Elain shifted and Lucien began thrusting again, wilder than before, the only sound between them the soft, wet slaps of skin meeting skin. And when his hands slid beneath her body, pushing her to her stomach, Elain whined at the loss of contact, of the connection between them breaking, if only for a second. Lucien hoisted her ass into the air, driving into her deeper, reaching for her neck until she was practically pressed against his chest.

“Kiss me,” he demanded, turning her head with one hand, the other spanning over her stomach as he drove into her, again and again until she was breathless with need. Clever fingers slid lower until he was rubbing her clit, wringing pleasure from her just as she had done before. Elain came more than once, held up only by the strong arm banded around her body until Lucien finally did, too, teeth biting into her neck to muffle the strangled sound of release. 

He collapsed to the bed, all but gasping for air. “I love you,” he panted, kissing the side of her face over and over and over. “Don’t ever leave me again.” She grasped for him in the dark, holding him tightly and smoothing the hair from his brow. “Never,” she swore, moving her face so he had to kiss her again, had to slide his tongue into her mouth to satisfy whatever need he had. 

“My mate,” he whispered desperately, sliding his cock from her body only to push back. He was still hard, still wanting. So was she, her legs sticky from release and the mingled fluid of their bodies. Elain groaned. She knew what this was and still wouldn’t have been prepared even if she had a thousand years to ready herself. Their two day frenzy, back when she’d been a human, was nothing to how she felt now. Wild. Unsated no matter how well he fucked her. She needed more, needed all of him.

Lucien was slower that time, softer, sweeter. His mouth never left hers, their bodies lined up perfectly as he pinned her to the mattress. This wasn’t the primal lust from before—it was love spoken through his hands, his lips, his gently rolling hips. Elain poured it all back, holding him even when after they came, her thighs squeezed tight around him. It would never be enough. She would always need him exactly like this. 

Lucien gave her a moment to breathe before he was lifting her leg, his fingers swirling around her again. It should have been too much. 

“More,” she whispered into the crook of his arm. “Give me more.”

~*~

Lucien didn’t know when he and Elain fell asleep, only that he woke up sticky and burning. She made it all of four steps towards the bathroom before he was on her, pushing her against the wall like it was the first time he’d ever touched her. They did even worse in the tub, fucking agaisnt the floor, the vanity, and in the water itself. She’d had to banish him in order to scrub herself clean, forcing him to cover his eyes so he could wash, too. Lucien had never been so hard in his life.

Elain was careful as they dressed, the two barely daring to look at each other. “I thought an offering of food was required?” she asked, pulling her hair off her face with little twin combs. Lucien didn’t bother with a jacket as he laced up his pants. “I think this is the bonds way of pushing us to accept.”

She didn’t respond to that and Lucien was grateful for it. He might have crawled on the floor and buried his face beneath her skirt if she had. As it stood, he’d done very little tasting and perhaps a little too much fucking. He meant to rectify that after breakfast. 

Elain pulled open the door, stepping to the side so he could lead her down where Feyre and her mate waited. Feyre wrinkled her nose the moment they stepped into the room while Rhysand grinned wolfishly.

“Sleep well?” he asked from his place at the table. 

“Like a baby,” Lucien replied, shooting them both a warning look. Don’t blow this for me.

“How long do you plan to stay?” Rhys asked instead. Elain cocked her head to the side, curls spilling down her shoulder. 

“One more night, I think,” she murmured in that faraway voice of hers. “And then we’ll go to Day Court to see Lucien’s mother.”

Lucien blinked. “Exactly.” As if he knew. Feyre raised her brows and Lucien shrugged. Who was he to deny his lady? There was no argument, not when Nesta Archeron burst into the room wearing a rather modest black dress and the angriest scowl.

“You cannot leave me up there with him,” she seethed, jerking her head towards an openly grinning Cassian just at her back. “I’d rather sleep in the street.”

“Aw, was it really that bad?” he asked, following her through the neat living room to the breakfast table. “I slept on a whole different floor!”

“How come Elain got to sleep down here?” Nesta demanded while Cassian snorted with laughter. 

“Oh, I don’t think Elain was doing any sleeping—”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Lucien hissed when Elain’s eyes cleared, her cheeks blooming bright pink. Nesta swiveled her head to Lucien, eyes narrowed to slits.

“This is the man?” she demanded. “I would have thought him…” Lucien knew Nesta’s next words were going to be emotionally devastating. “More handsome.”

“That was uncalled for,” Elain said softly as Rhysand and Cassian roared with laughter. “I had nothing to say when you brought Tomas around.”

Cassian’s mouth immediately snapped shut. “Who is Tomas?”

“The ugliest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life,” Feyre replied with a smug smile. “I think Lucien is very handsome.”

“Oh, do you?” Rhysand all but purred as Lucien wished for a quick, merciful death.

“You never saw the men from Chicago,” Feyre told the table as Nesta scowled. 

“Tomas was nice—”

“He was no such thing!” Elain interrupted. “He was so rude.”

“And stupid,” Feyre added quickly, watching Nesta and Elain scoop eggs onto a plate. “Do you remember he thought chickens were related to cats?”

“Oh my God,” Elain began to laugh, wiping a tear from her eye. Even Nesta cracked a smile. 

“Because they both had feathers,” Nesta reminisced. “He’d never touched a cat before. I forgot about that.”

“I thought Elain was going to fly over the table and hit him,” Feyre laughed, her shoulders shaking.

“He was so rude about it,” Elain reminded them. “Like we were stupid for thinking otherwise. I had it on my phone and he was still arguing.”

It was nice seeing them like this, giggling over Nesta’s terrible partner and talking about a life Lucien had no awareness of. He’d forgotten the food on his plate as he watched and he certainly wasn’t the only one. Rhysand, his arm casual over Feyre’s chair, listened with starry-eyed adoration. Cassian, seated between Elain and Rhys, was trying to casually pretend he didn’t like the sight of Nesta’s animation, her bright laughter or her gesticulating hands. Their conversation slipped into other embarrassing moments—from Feyre’s first boyfriend named Isaac, a man who apparently was caught with his pants down by their father—to Gray proposing to Elain in front of a lot of people only to get rejected. The girls giggled all through breakfast and Lucien considered his exceptional good fortune to have Elain, to be part of her family in this small way. 

Elain reached for a little piece of melon on her plate, eyes sliding to Lucien. He grinned, ducking his head the moment she flung it at his face. Caught, easily, in his mouth, just as he always had. “Undefeated,” he reminded her while she smiled, turning her gaze back to her sisters. She spent the rest of the morning tossing food at him, a reminder of being human and offering him food so carelessly, casually even. Unaware of what they’d solidified, of what they were agreeing to. She knew now, had all but accepted it the night before.

Rhysand watched with bemused eyes and Lucien knew he’d be holding them to that leave date. Lucien didn’t blame him. He wouldn’t want a frenzied couple in his home, either. Lucien was mindful of his ward when he and Elain traipsed back upstairs. Nothing had changed other than the cord in their chest, which was only stronger, a steel cable instead of a silken strand. Unbroken. Permanent. 

Elain gave him no time to think on it, locking the door and accosting him with her mouth, pushing him back to the bed where they remained for the rest of the day and all of the night. He dreaded the early morning that forced them apart, sweaty and sticky and still desperate and needy. 

“I don’t want to do this,” Lucien whispered against her neck when he felt the shift in her body. “Tell me how it ends.”

“Do you really want to know?” she replied, stroking her fingers over his cheek.

“Yes.” NO. 

“It ends with us making love on a sandy beach…High Lord.”

Lucien shivered. “Today?”

Elain giggled. “Just the beach. The High Lord comes much, much later.”

“And Helion…”

“Some things even I don’t know,” Elain finally said, her face obscured in the early gloom. “We’ll face it together.”

Lucien sighed softly. “As long as there is sex afterwards.”

Elain kissed him. “There will always be sex afterwards.”

~*~

It would take decades to end the strange, stilted relationship between Lucien and Helion. That was obvious the moment Elain and Lucien had sauntered into Day Court dressed for winter despite the heat. Helion had awkwardly shook Lucien’s hand while Lucien looked anywhere but at the High Lord who might have raised him in a different world. Helion was curious about Lucien’s Day Court magic, having heard a particularly fascinating tale about Lucien’s utilization of daylight during the war. 

It probably helped very little that Lucien’s mother hovered about the study they sat in, flitting back and forth nervously, as if she expected some huge blow-up. Elain was the one who rose from the chair, trailing a hand over Lucien’s shoulder before she took the Lady of Autumn Court’s arm in her own and led her back into the spacious halls of Helion’s palace.

“They’ll be fine,” Elain murmured, slowing her steps to drink in the majesty that was Day Court. Of all the places she’d seen, Day was rapidly becoming her favorite. Everything was so open, so airy and warm and bright.

“Did he say…is he angry?” she asked, looking over her shoulder anxiously. 

“Surprised,” Elain murmured. “He loves you.”

Elain didn’t bother mentioning that Helion had been staring after Lucien’s mother with cartoon hearts in his eyes, unsure if they were anything more than two people who had accidentally made a child. The whispering wind assured her things would work out because they must, and Elain trusted the purring magic in her veins. That was true of all things. Her magic, their bond, this life…Nesta and Ferye and her, trapped in this place with immortality gilding their bones. It would work out because it had to, even if it took them a hundred years to figure it all out.

In some ways, she found that thought comforting long after she bade the Lady of Autumn–or Day—goodbye and turned towards the white sand beaches at the very edge of Helion’s palace. 

She waited, kicking off her shoes to slide her feet into the warm, crystal water, for Lucien to join her.

“This is not the place for boots,” he complained, yanking his own off before rolling his pants up to his knees. 

“How did it go?” she asked, turning her head to look up at him. Lucien offered her a shadowed smile.

“Just as you said,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her body to pull her against his chest. “He’s asked me to stay.”

Elain heard the question. We can go back if you want. Elain wanted to see her sisters, wanted to be there for Nesta as Nesta had been for her and yet it was no question at all to nod her head.

“Good. I’m already in love.”

Lucien relaxed against her. “In love, you say?”

“Desperately so,” she agreed, pleased with his wandering hand over her midsection. “I caught sight of Helion's son and could not tear my eyes off his handsome face.”

Lucien chuckled. “Helion’s son. That will take some getting used to.”

“There’s time,” Elain reminded him. “And if we tire of this place, we’ll go somewhere else. We can be nomads for the next couple centuries just figuring ourselves out.”

For Elain, who had always liked adventure and traveling, the idea was rather appealing. But for Lucien, who had always wanted a home, she thought the possibility that Day Court might provide that for him was too heady to pass up. 

He lowered his mouth to the skin behind her ear. “I believe I was promised fucking on a beach.”

“Oh you’re just the worst,” Elain complained, twisting in his arms to kiss him all the same. “Anyone could see us.”

“I hope so,” he agreed with a grin, pulling her towards the rolling waves. “I would hate to compete for your affections.”

“You’re becoming spoiled,” Elain complained, sinking into the water despite the dress she wore, so the crystal waves lapped around her neck.

“I could get used to it,” Lucien agreed, nipping at her neck. “I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

Elain twined her arms around his neck, legs tight against his waist. She was hovering over him ever so slightly this way, ignoring the way his hands had already skimmed beneath the dress floating around her to thumb against the band of her underwear. “Of course you could.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand how joyless life felt before you. An eternity stretching into nothing. I was living because I had to and not because I wanted to. You changed that, you…you were the first sunrise I’d seen in over a century. I’d been living in endless night, Elain and even after you left, I still felt your warmth, your hope.”

“Stop it,” Elain whispered, kissing him to hide her urge to cry. 

“I love you beyond reason, to the exclusion of my sanity,” he breathed against her mouth. “I didn’t realize what was missing until you came along.”

“You would have found—”

“No,” he interrupted impatiently, his cock somehow freed from his pants despite his soft words. She’d forgotten where they were, floating in that endless sea beneath sun warmed water. “ No, I wouldn’t have. I’d still be bathed in darkness even if I found this place and Helion and a home. You are the only light, Elain.”

What could she say besides, “I love you, Lucien.”

He thrust into her, mouth covering hers, swallowing her contented sigh. 

“There was never anyone else,” she continued, pressing her fingers against his cheeks so he couldn’t move, their foreheads pressed together. Lucien groaned.

“And now there never will be,” he told her roughly. She’d accepted the bond, accepted him. It hadn’t even been a choice so much as a given. Loving him was the most natural thing in the world, felt like breathing for all the thought she’d given acceptance. 

She could hear his heart over everything, drowning the sound of the crashing waves, the squalling birds, even their own ragged, frantic breathing. They were everything and nothing all at once, ancient as the very sea they stood in. When she fractured apart, her voice swallowed by the wind that had become her ever-present companion, Elain swore that the Gods themselves bowed their heads in acknowledgement of what had been created. What they shared was more than simple love—it was fate itself bending time to bring them together.

Lucien was home, wrapped in her arms, panting against her shoulder.

And so was Elain.

[0idril0]

Before 6

Thanks @whumpywhumper for fixing my terrible punctuation and pointing out horrible holes in my story

Link to the rest of the series

———————————————————————-

Nico rocked, slowly, rhythmically in his cell. Holding his broken and cracked ribs tightly. One, two,three, four, sideways. One, two, three, four, forward. He flinched as yet another specter floated across his vision. The gory images haunting him in his personal hell. They’d started after the Irishman and the Boss had left. His only company in the darkness.

Hunger and thirst gnawed at him. How long could someone live without water? Three days? His eyes burned, gritty and dry behind the blindfold.

“Niiico.” Dizzily, Nico lifted his head. He slowly stopped rocking as the voice of the reedy man came across a crackling speaker. “Thirsty yet, mutt?” He winced at the squeal of the speaker, dehydration making his head throb.

The sound of a stream followed it and Nico swallowed convulsively. He twisting his manacled hands into his torn shirt, trying to stifle the urge to rip at the contraptions strapped to him. They knew when he did, shocking him until he was limp and panting for air.

They shocked him for anything. When his rocking stopped and his breath evened out. When exhaustion won and he finally slept. When he hit against the walls in fury. When he pulled at his hair, feeling like madness was encroaching on him.

He pulled at his hair now, rocking harder, trying not to scream his frustration. YES! Please, fuck, please give him water, anything.

“Awww. The little mutt is frustrated, isn’t it? Makes you want to scream, doesn’t it? Get angry.” The voice echoed in the cell, coming from multiple directions. There was a hiss, like air escaping a balloon. Nico shivered, pushing back into his corner.

“What would you do for water, mutt? Hmmm?” The door creaked, echoing through the damp room. Footsteps echoed off the stone walls and Nico gathered himself. The reedyman was smaller, if he had the remote he might be able to stop the man long enough to get the collar off.

There was a quiet laugh, it echoed around the room, in his head. Nico shivered, shaking himself roughly. What the hell was going on? “You’re so transparent. You really think you can take me fool? You’re in my domain now.” The words echoed through the room, making his consciousness vibrate with terror.

The room seemed to grow colder and Nico tensed when he felt something like spider webs caressed his face, his arms. He rubbed at them viciously. Nonono-whatthehell? Nico lashed out, gripping the walls to ground himself. The chains attached to the ceiling swayed through the air, pulling at him. He couldn’t feel anything, there shouldn’t be anything there. The laughter continued and Nico bit his lip, containing a moan of terror.

“Come on, mutt. Come closer, I have water for you.” The voice sang, inviting in the darkness. If Nico was hydrated enough for tears he would have cried. He swallowed roughly, trying desperately to gather saliva in his mouth. God, was he hallucinating?

He shook his head resolutely. Fear sticking him in place.

“Mmmmm.... that’s lovely. Your fear has an.... exquisite...taste, mutt.” The sound of booted feet shuffled closer, making Nico flinch, mean laughter biting at him. The sound of water being poured pulled at him and some of Nico’s fear was dampened by feral need.

“Hear something you want, mutt?”

Nico gritted his teeth giving a reluctant nod.

“Ah, I can’t hear you, mutt.”

He bared his teeth behind the muzzle, feeling how his lips stuck to his teeth. Talk, get shocked and possibly get water, or stay silent and not get shocked. Die of dehydration.There wasn’t a fucking choice, these people didn’t make sense.

“Such a terrible conundrum, isn’t it, pet?”

Nico yelped in surprise, causing the collar on his neck to shock him. Groaning, he braced himself against the current. He could taste blood in his mouth, lips cracking. He hadn’t heard the Boss enter the room, preoccupied with the reedyman and the water. The reedy man snickered, echoing through the room and Nico hid behind his arms trying to breathe through his dry sobs.

The feeling of spiderwebs grew more distinct. He rubbed at his arms again, convinced there were spiders climbing on his arms, in his shirt and pants. Nico’s terror grew when he found nothing. He gasped as his heart pounded in his chest. This couldn’t possibly be real, he couldn’t possibly be this scared.

Nico tried desperately to breathe, to form rational thoughts.

“Ain’t no use, Love.” The Irishman’s breath was wet against his cheek and Nico jerked against the stone wall. He’d come in too?

The sound of water distracted him again, superseding his terror. Please. “What’s the mutt willing to do, hmmmm??” The reedy man laughed again, and Nico felt cold fingers trace the collar on his neck. He swatted at the fingers, don’t touch me, don’t, no.

The Irishman grabbed his collar, the grip distinctive, choking him as he pulled him from the corner he had hidden in. His palms skidded along the floor as he fought the irresistible pull on his neck.

Nico shuddered as the stout body settled against his back, forearm pulling against his throat. The man settled on his calves, pinning him, breathing against his neck, and he shivered, clawing at the arm. Nico pushed, unable to budge the stout man, hunger and dehydration making him weak.

Something wet trickled against his cheek and Nico bucked, desperate to get to the liquid. Panting against the muzzle. “Ple-“ he jerked, grunting at the jolt of electricity.

“Do you begin to understand pet? You thirst for water. My friends for blood and fear. Your friends thirst too.” The bosses voice was cold, the stated fact making Nico shiver.

“Your friends are supernatural, higher beings than you, pet. You are what they thirst for.” Cold wet glass pressed gently against his wrist and Nico trembled as he raised his hands to it. It jerked away as his fingers brushed against it. The Irishman adjusted his grip, roughly pulling Nico’s arms behind him.

“You make them suffer due to your very proximity. Deny them, and they could do anything, reveal themselves, hurt themselves, break themselves. For you.” Scorn infused the man’s voice.

Please, I wouldn’t hurt them, please, I’m sorry. He wondered briefly if they even knew he was gone. Even cared.

“So, you will be the perfect pet for them. You want water? Yes?” Nico nodded fervently. Yes, yes please. The man’s slender hands settled against his face, the leather straps on the muzzle loosening until it peeled away from his bleeding lips.

Nico flexed his jaw, panting. “Mmm.. yes you do look a little dry, don’t you?” Fingers traced his lips, making him cringe. Blood smearing against his cheek as the man cradled his face in a soft palm.

“Now, pet. You get to drink-“ Cold glass pressed lightly against his lips and Nico strained, trying to get to the water. The glass hovered, barely touching his lips. “-if my friend gets to drink.”

Terror flooded him, a tight whine rumbling through the grip on his throat and he bucked as the collar went off. The man gripped his jaw tightly, tilting his head back until it pressed into the Irishman’s shoulder. Nico bucked again, panting for air,unable to break the man’s grip.

He shook his head in the man’s grasp. No, no, he didn’t agree to that. No.

“No?” The man hummed in consideration, and pressed a moist thumb against his lips, teasing the dry membrane. Nico shuddered, mouth opening involuntarily. The collar slipped from his throat barely noticed, his attention fixated on the cold glass beginning to press against his lips.

The Irishman nuzzled against the hollow of his neck, nudging his head back further. Fear pumped through him, conflicting with the overwhelming want.

Daniel’s voice whispered to him, the memory sharp in his desperation. “It’s not shameful to do what you need to to survive, son.”

A few stray drops of water splashed against his tongue and Nico broke. “Ple-Please...”

The vampire licked his neck softly before pain sliced into him. He gasped, moaning against the pain. The pain dulled as the Irishman suckled, Nico’s body going lax against him. He could feel his heart beating dully in his chest and he shuddered as pleasure replaced the pain.

The glass pressed against his lips again and he choked as the first stream hit his dry throat, a rough cough momentarily dislodging the vampire. The glass returned, flooding his mouth and he drank greedily. The world felt far far away and Nico whined weakly when the glass emptied. God, he was so thirsty.

The vampire licked the wounds on his neck thoroughly, rutting slowly against him before pulling away. The implication was clear and Nico trembled at the silent promise.

“Hmmmm. Very good, Nico.“ The use of his name made Nico flinch. “I think you learned this lesson well.”

What fucking lesson? Confusion gripped him, exhaustion making it difficult to think. His head flopped uselessly on his neck and he groaned when someone shook him.

“Can’t have that, can we now?” His captors hands left his face, letting his head drop.

“Tie him.” The Irishman moved, pulling Nico’s forearms together behind him. Rough rope pulled tight against his arms, bending him backwards until his hands were able to be fastened to his feet.

A cold palm pressed against his forehead and Nico screamed as a green light burned through the blindfold. He ground his teeth together,body burning. His back bowed against the onslaught, heart galloping in his chest as energy poured into him. “Stop... make.....it stop.” The words were muffled behind his clenched teeth and Nico groaned as the burn abated.

“There we go, pet. Can’t have you sleeping just yet.” His tormenter’s voice held an icy glint, freezing Nico where he knelt. The collar encircled his neck tightly, mechanism clicking on. “After all, we still have plenty more training to come.”

—-

[wisdomrays]

WHAT IS THE SPIRIT AND HOW DOES IT AFFECT US?: Part 1

There are many worlds, among them those of plants, animals, people, and jinn. Our visible, material world addresses itself to our senses, and is the realm where God Almighty gives life, fashions, renews, changes, and causes things to die. Science concerns itself with its phenomena.

Above this world is the immaterial World of Divine Laws or Commands, the spirit's home. To learn about this world, consider the following: A book cannot exist without meaning, the main part of its existence, regardless of our excellent printing press or paper. The essence of life and the law of germination and growth stimulate a tree's seed to germinate underground and grow into a tree. In their absence, there would be no trees.

Menstruation prepares a womb every month for insemination through a (biological) law. Millions of sperm head for the womb, but only one fertilizes the ovum. Another (biological) law causes menstruation to stop until birth. An embryo develops into a person through other (biological or embryological) laws. The Qur'an says: We created man from a quintessence of clay. We then placed him as a drop in a place of rest firmly fixed. Then We made the drop into a leech-like structure suspended on the wall of the womb, and then of that leech-like structure We made a chewed-like substance. Then We made out of that chewed-like substance bones (skeletal system). Then We clothed the bones with flesh (muscles). Then We developed out of it another creation. So blessed be God the best to create (23:12-15).

This process occurs within three veils of darkness: He created you in the wombs of your mothers, in stages, one after another, in three veils of darkness (39:6). These are the belly, womb, and caul or membrane; the fetal membranes' constituents; or the decidua's three regions: the decidua basalis, decidua capsularis, and decidua parietalis. The verse includes all of these meanings.

We derive such laws from these processes' almost never-changing repetition. Observing surrounding (natural) phenomena reveals other laws, among them gravitation and repulsion, and water's freezing and vaporization.

The spirit also is a unique living and conscious law issuing from the World of Divine Laws or Commands: Say: The spirit is of my Lord's Command (17:85) If the spirit had no life and consciousness, it would be a regular law; if a regular law had life and consciousness, it would become a spirit.

Science Cannot Define or Perceive the Spirit

All matter is composed of atoms, and atoms are made up of more minute particles. But the spirit is a simple, noncompound entity, invisible but knowable through its manifestations in this world. We accept its existence and see its manifestations, but cannot know its nature. Such ignorance, however, does not negate its existence.

We see with our eyes. Although the main center of sight is located in the brain, the brain does not see. You do not say: My brain sees, but rather: I see. But what is this I? Does it have a brain, a heart, and other organs and limbs? Why are we unable to move when we die, although all our organs and limbs are there? Does a factory operate by itself, or does something else (i.e., electricity) cause it to work?

Any disconnect between the factory and its electrical source can reduce the factory to a heap of junk. Is this comparable to the spirit“body relationship? When death severs this connection, the body must be disposed of quickly, before it begins to rot and decompose.

The spirit is not an electrical power, but rather a conscious, powerful thing that learns and thinks, senses and reasons. It develops continually, usually in parallel with the body's physical development, as well as mentally and spiritually through learning and reflection, belief and worship. As the spirit determines a person's character, nature, or identity, each person is unique, although all of us are created from the same elements.

The Spirit Needs Our Body

The spirit must use material means to be manifested and function here. As the body cannot contact the World of Symbols or Immaterial Forms, the spirit cannot contact this world if there is no human heart, brain, or other bodily organs and limbs to mediate. The spirit functions through the body's nerves, cells, and other elements. Therefore, if bodily systems or organs go awry, the spirit becomes disconnected and unable to command the body. Death occurs if this failure or illness severs the spirit“body relationship. Some meaningless hand or finger movements can be produced by stimulating certain areas of the brain, but these are only automatic bodily responses. The body needs the spirit, which is conscious and has free will, to produce meaningful movements.

Although psychoanalysts have offered explanations for dreams, dreams cannot be said to consist of the subconscious mind's jumbled activities. Almost everyone has had true dreams. Many scientific or technological discoveries were seen first in dreams. Therefore, dreams point to something”the spirit”within us that can see in a different way while we sleep. Although the spirit sees with our eyes, smells with our nose, hears with our ears and so on, some people can see with their fingers or the tips of their noses, and smell with their heels.

The Spirit and Our Face

Our face opens on our inner world, for it discloses our character. Psychologists assert that almost all movements reveal character. Such observations resulted in physiognomy, the art of judging character from facial features. The spirit determines these features.

Our body's cells are renewed continuously. Every day, millions of cells die and are replaced. Biologists say that all bodily cells are renewed every 6 months, and yet the face's main features do not change. We recognize individuals through their unchanging facial features and fingerprints. A finger's cells change, but its print never does. Each individual's unique spirit stabilizes these distinguishing features.

[mariannewhughes]

Anatomy of a Butterfly (Keyboard)—Teardown Style

The 2018 MacBook Pro keyboard is a wealth of secrets—it just keeps surprising us. Just when we think we’ve exhausted one vein of tasty tech ore, we find something new. And today, we bring this trove to you. If you’re not excited for a deep dive, check out our keyboard teardown for a more photo-driven experience.

Testing, testing

First off, I’ll tell you that we didn’t get conclusive noise level comparisons for this keyboard. We don’t have the snappiest equipment or an anechoic chamber lying around, so we resorted to a sound meter, a phone app, and our ears to compare current and past-gen keyboard noisiness. The result? We think the third-generation keyboard is slightly less clacky on the high-frequency end—which is admittedly kinda weak. But hear me out—if Apple is advertising a quieter keyboard (without providing detail on how much quieter), shouldn’t the difference be immediately apparent to a first-time user? Why should we need high-grade equipment to prove what should be obvious to the ears? In a world where Apple once quietly introduced iPhone waterproofing without bragging about it, this seems like a strange instance of under-delivery. Since Apple informed their service providers that the membrane is “to prevent debris,” we’re inclined to think any change in noise level really is just a secondary feature.

Okay, now to the nitty-gritty testing. We pumped this keyboard full of particulates to test our ingress-proofing theory. We started with a fine, powdered paint additive to add a bit of color and enable finer tracking (thanks for the tip, Dan!). Lo and behold, the dust is safely sequestered at the edges of the membrane, leaving the mechanism fairly sheltered. The holes in the membrane allow the keycap clips to pass through, but are covered by the cap itself, blocking dust ingress. The previous-gen butterfly keys are far less protected, and are almost immediately flooded with our glowing granules. On the 2018 keyboard, with the addition of more particulate and some aggressive typing, the dust eventually penetrates under the sheltered clips, and gets on top of the switch—so the ingress-proofing isn’t foolproof just yet. Time will tell how long the barrier will hold up. Following the Mythbusters method of testing, we pushed the keyboard to failure with the higher-grit particulate we used last time: sand. And just like last time, a few poorly placed particles bring the mighty butterfly down to earth, never to click again.

Dust largely stays around the exterior of the new silicone shield, but particles can make their way past the barrier over time.

Teardown Time

Now, that’s all well and good, but what does this silicone barrier actually look like? Are the keys wrapped in individual cushions? Did Apple just hide one of those goofy keyboard covers in this device? Like an ogre onion, this keyboard is a series of layers, so let’s get to peeling. In order to get to the keyboard at all you need to gut the MacBook, peel off a large backing sticker, remove a whole brace of screws and bust through more than a dozen rivets. And you wonder why Apple is replacing entire top case assemblies—including batteries—when they only really need to replace the keyboard. Apple could have saved themselves a lot of money, grief, and a ton of negative press if they just made this thing easier for their own techs to work on. And even after the irreversible pin removal, we still need to cook the thing under a pile of iOpeners to loosen the adhesive holding it together.

Oh, and remove all 64 keycaps on the laptop. More on those later.

When we’re finally able to peel the (absurdly thin) keyboard off of the aluminum case, we’re met with fields of clear silicone. That’s right—a single die-cut and molded sheet.

Jeff makes this look easy, but this keyboard removal was hard-fought. No wonder Apple techs replace the whole assembly.

Apple’s patent application is pretty broad, basically taking ownership of any flexible barrier under a keyboard. This implementation lacks the “bellows” function intended to blow particulate away from the mechanism; the gaps in the membrane are for keycap attachment, and to allow key presses without interference from an air cushion. Figure 2 in the patent lays out the layers we saw in our teardown, but showcases a secondary keycap layer not present in this design. What we found is closer in spirit to Figure 5, wherein the keycap clips pass through the membrane to attach to the butterfly mechanism. The membrane in its present form covers more of the central area of the switch than Figure 5 shows, and does not “couple” to either the keycap or mechanism, but lies sandwiched between them.

Now back to those keycaps. We kept feeling like the caps were easier to remove and harder to ruin, and it turns out that they have been very slightly redesigned. The new keycaps measure in at around 1.25 mm in thickness, compared to the 1.5 mm thick keys in the 2017 model. Presumably this gives the keys room to travel, despite the addition of the membrane—however, it also provides easier access to pry the caps off. Casey Johnston will be gratified to know that the spacebar key has most definitely been redesigned. It may not look much different, but the keycap separates readily from the butterfly mechanism, instead of ripping it out wholesale and damaging it in the process. Apple is rumored to be providing key cap replacements, so it seems like they’re confident in this thinner, readily removable design.

New removable-spacebar hotness on top, below it: old and busted (literally) in the process of removal.

Dust in the wind

Okay, so why does all this matter? Apple has a proven track record of failure for these keyboards. They’re being accused, by way of several class-action lawsuits, of knowingly selling failure-prone keyboards. Apple may claim that they design products to last—and that designing for repairability compromises the durability of a device—but this keyboard misadventure belies those points. If a single grain of sand can bring a computer to a grinding halt, that’s not built to last. If said computer can only be fixed by throwing half of it away and starting over, that’s not built to last. We’re definitely excited to see improved protection on these machines—consumers deserve it with the prices they’re paying. But if Apple had designed their keyboards for longevity in the first place, instead of chasing thinness at all cost, maybe we’d be in a whole different timeline, where MacBooks are repairable, and they never canceled Firefly…

[trendyelle]

What To Eat For Clear Skin& What Foods Will Wreak Havoc On Your Face

If youre anything like me, someone who is a mature adult treats their body like a trashcan, then you recognize the daily struggle that is doing whatever the fuck you want while also wanting to have a great body and great skin. Lifes hard when you want to get fucked up at Governors Ball but also look 100 years old in your Instagram story. Not that I would know. I did not go to Gov Ball, though I did spend the weekend going through mimosas like water and eating enough food to get me my own TLC reality show. That being said, I want to change. I want to be a new me. A better me. A me who puts actual vitamins and minerals into her system so her skin doesnt resemble the entire slice of pizza she ate last night. So heres a list of foods you should avoid like an ex-boyfriend sliding into your DMs and foods you should embrace because theyll fix your fucking face. Damn, Ive got bars. DONT: Eat Canned Food/Meats Gross. As if. Like, who even eats canned meats anymore? Other than my ex from college who had this weird obsession with eating vienna sausages (which, in hindsight, should have been a red fucking flag that this kid was a sociopath. That and his Belk credit card that he was always bragging about). Canned and/or highly processed foods have a shit ton of sodium in them and causes your body to hold on to water, which is why your face is always puffy or you have bags under your eyes that can be seen from space, and your acne is at World War III proportions. DO: Eat Salmon Aside from giving you a reason to pretend to be a foodie and also be obnoxious on Instagram, eating salmon is a sure way to get better looking skin. Salmon is rich with omega-3 fatty acids and healthy fats. These fats reinforce cell membranes and nourish the skin to keep you looking fresh AF. DONT: Drink Green Juice Lol just because you frequently say shit like #FitLife and #CleanEating on your IG does not mean you know wtf is good for you, because SURPRISE all those juices youre drinking to cleanse your body are actually really fucking bad for you. Juices are sugary as hell, especially the green juices which can have up to 50 grams of sugar in them, which is actual sabotage when it comes to having clear skin.  ^I imagine every fitstagrammer when the find out they’ve been pumping liquid sugar into their temples bodies DO: Drink A Protein Smoothie Aside from having something to talk about with the hot trainer at your gym, protein smoothies can actually be beneficial for your skin. The more you know. Stay away from the juicer smoothies and opt for one with some protein in it. These types of smoothies are high in healthy fats and wont leave your skin looking more ratchet than your Snap story last weekend. DONT: Eat Ice Cream Okay, this one I saw coming. Nothing that tastes this good can be anything but sabotage on your body. And since Im not on my period rn in control of my body I guess Im open to suggestions here. Ice cream is chock-full of sugar which can form this fun thing called advanced glycation end products which fucks up the protein in your body. Why is that important you may ask? Because the proteins it fucks with the most are the ones that keep your skin plump and springy looking. So basically eating ice cream is aging you. *steps into oncoming traffic* DO: Eat Dark Chocolate Dark chocolate aka the DUD of chocolates has a fuck ton of antioxidants in it, which is v good for your skin. So even though it tastes healthy and the whole time youll be wishing you were eating real chocolate with real flavor at least your skin will look good AF and be protected against wrinkles and other bad shit. DONT: Drink Coffee HA HA HA HA this has to be some sort of sick joke. You want me to give up my will to live caffeine? Do you also want me to commit homicide the next time someone replies all to a department email chain? DO YOU? This one is tough for me to wrap my brain around because coffee is literally one of the only reasons I get out of bed in the morning, and consequently, the reason you get to experience this sparkling personality. That being said, coffee is a diuretic (fake news Im sure!) which causes your body to lose water and your skin to get v dehydrated. Stay away from this shit if you want glowy AF skin.  DO: Drink Hot Lemon Water This replacement sounds about as good as the Republicans plan for health care but thats neither here nor there. Even though the prospect of drinking hot lemon water sounds about as enticing as sleeping with Jonathan The Tickle Monster, its actually super good for you. Its hydrating, full of antioxidants, and gives some much needed support to your liver. Apparently, the liver is the main organ that detoxifies the body and if youre full of toxins drinking on days that end in Y, youre more likely to break out. Sighs. And this is why we cant have nice things. DONT: Eat Bagels Okay, Im starting to feel personally victimized by this list. Like, is someone looking at my bank statement and seeing that I spend a large amount of my down time in coffee shops and/or bagel shops? Because Im feeling really attacked rn. Apparently, bagels are the worst for your skin and can lead to a cascade of hormones aka acne breakouts for days. *prays this is fake news* DO: Eat Non-Processed Carbs or Oats Tbh Id rather starve than eat something that resembles animal feed but I guess thats the price we pay to look like the “after” girl in an acne commercial. Oats are the right kind of carbs probs because it looks miserable to eat and also because its high in antioxidants which weve established will not only give you clear/glowy skin but also fights against anti-aging. DONT: Drink Soda To absolutely no ones surprise except my own because I refuse to read labels written by health professionals people who are out to destroy my happiness, soda is bad for you. And just because you drink diet soda doesnt mean youre safe. Because diet soda especially disrupts the necessary and healthy bacteria found in your gut. Also drinking any kind of soda can really fuck with your skin. Like, cause rosacea, eczema, and acne fuck with your skin. K. Just fuck me up rn then. Also, wtf am I supposed to order at the bar to go along with my vodka then? I cant just drink vodka straight. I want to have clearer skin, not die.  DO: Drink Kombucha Finally something that looks good on my Instagram story and isnt going to fuck up my skin. About damn time. Basically Kombucha is good for you because its fermented, and therefore full of probiotics, which will solve all your life problems. Im paraphrasing, but still. If you want clear skin by the time this weekend’s brunch rolls around then chug some of this and pretend like its alcohol something you enjoy drinking. So, in conclusion, anything that brings you joy is probably fucking up your skin and you should cut it from your diet ASAP. I am feeling #blessed rn that alcohol did not make the list, but thats mostly because I refused to do any actual research that would prove otherwise. Who says you cant make your own destiny? Listen, if all else fails and you have no self control dont want to sacrifice your happiness theres always Facetune. Read more: www.betches.com The post What To Eat For Clear Skin& What Foods Will Wreak Havoc On Your Face appeared first on Anti Aging Tips. http://selfhelpantiagingtips.com/what-to-eat-for-clear-skin-what-foods-will-wreak-havoc-on-your-face-29/

[cadmar]

Absolutes

Absolutes are our creation.  Absolutes are not real.  We have made them real. Absolutes are rigid, fixed, distinct, and separated from everything else. This is the method we define our world and our thoughts.  Our brain functions with absolutes.  We have broken down our perceptions into chunks.  For example, a cell. A cell has a membrane and within that cell there are hundreds and thousands of components.  If one is taken away, is it still a cell?  We define a cell into being an absolute definition.  Our body has trillions of cells and do we define ourselves that when one million cells die each day, we are no longer the same? After so many years have passed, each of our cells has been replaced with another cell and our “self” continues as an unchanging, fixed entity.

An atom is an absolute and yet under examination, the atom has mostly space with an energy being there and not there.

Is consciousness an absolute, a fixed creation from neural activities?  Or is consciousness a flow?  Can we feel the flow of living?  Can we be a life without chunks? Can we feel not having barriers?  Not having restrictions?  Not having limits?

[trendyelle]

What To Eat For Clear Skin& What Foods Will Wreak Havoc On Your Face

If youre anything like me, someone who is a grown-up adult treats their body like a trashcan, then you distinguish the daily fight that is doing whatever the fuck off want while at the same time wanting to have a great organization and enormous surface. Lifes hard whether it wishes to get fucked up at Heads Ball but too appear 100 years old in your Instagram story. Not that I would know. I did not go to Gov Ball, though I did invest the weekend going through mimosas like water and devouring sufficient food to get me my own TLC reality show. That being said, I want to change. I want to be a brand-new me. A better me. A me who introduces actual vitamins and minerals into her arrangement so her skin doesnt resemble the entire slice of pizza she devoured last-place nighttime. So heres a listing of foods you should eschew like an ex-boyfriend slithering into your DMs and foods you should embrace because theyll fix your fucking heads. Damn, Ive got bars. DONT: Dine Canned Food/ Meats Gross. As if. Like, who even dines canned fleshes anymore? Other than my ex from college who had this weird obsession with eating vienna sausages( which, in hindsight, should have been a ruby-red fucking pennant that this minor was a sociopath. That and his Belk credit card that he was always boasting about ). Canned and/ or highly processed foods have a shit ton of sodium in them and effects your organization to hold on to water, which is why your look is always puffy or you have pocketed under your eyes that can be seen from cavity, and your acne is at World War III proportions. DO: Eat Salmon Aside from giving you a reason to pretend to be a foodie and too be obnoxious on Instagram, dining salmon is a sure way to get better looking scalp. Salmon is rich with omega-3 fatty battery-acids and healthy fattens. These paunches buttress cadre membranes and nourish the scalp to maintain you searching fresh AF. DONT: Drink Green Juice Lol exactly because you frequently say shit like #FitLife and #CleanEating on your IG does not mean you know wtf is good for you, because SURPRISE all those juices youre booze to purge your figure are actually actually fucking bad for you. Juices are sugary as hell, especially the light-green juices which are able to have up to 50 grams of sugar in them, which is actual sabotage when it comes to having clear surface. ^ I suspect every fitstagrammer when the find out they’ve been gushing liquid carbohydrate into their temples bodies DO: Drink A Protein Smoothie Aside from having something to talk about with the hot tutor at your gym, protein smoothies can actually be beneficial for your surface. The more you know. Remain away from the juicer smoothies and opt for one with some protein in it. These the different types of smoothies are high in healthy fats and wont leave your scalp seeming more ratchet than your Snap story last weekend. DONT: Eat Ice Cream Okay, this one I insured coming. Good-for-nothing that savours this good can be anything but sabotage on your body. And since Im not on my season rn in control of my body I guess Im open to suggestions here. Ice cream is chock-full of sugar which are able to sort this fun act called advanced glycation end products which fucks up the protein in your torso. Why is that important you may ask? Because the proteins it fucks with “the worlds largest” are the ones that keep your skin plump and springy examining. So basically snacking ice cream is aging you.* stairs into oncoming congestion* DO: Eat Dark Chocolate Dark chocolate aka the DUD of chocolates has a fuck ton of antioxidants in it, which is v good for your surface. So even though it delicacies health and the whole hour youll be bidding you were snacking real chocolate with real flavor at the least your scalp will search good AF and be protected against wrinkles and other bad shit. DONT: Drink Coffee HA HA HA HA this has to be some sort of sick laugh. You want me to give up my will to live caffeine? Do you likewise want me to commit homicide the next time someone replies everyone to a department email chain? DO YOU? This one is tough for me to wrap my psyche around because coffee is literally one of the only grounds I get out of bunked in the morning, and consequently, the reason you get to experience this sparkling temperament. That tell me anything, coffee is a diuretic( bogus bulletin Im sure !) which causes your torso to lose ocean and your skin to get v dehydrated. Stay away from this shit if you crave glowy AF skin. DO: Drink Hot Lemon Water This replacement sounds about as good as the Republican plan for health care but thats neither here nor there. Even though the prospect of drinking red-hot lemon ocean know it sounds as enticing as sleeping with Jonathan The Tickle Monster, its actually super are you all right. Its hydrating, full of antioxidants, and affords some very much support to your liver. Apparently, the liver is the main organ that detoxifies their own bodies and if youre full of poisons sucking on eras that aim in Y, youre more likely to break out. Sighs. And this is why we cant have neat things. DONT: Eat Bagels Okay, Im starting to feel personally victimized by this list. Like, is person looking at my bank affirmation and be careful to ensure that I spend a large amount of my down time in coffee shop and/ or bagel browses? Because Im detecting certainly criticized rn. Apparently, bagels are the worst for your scalp and can lead to a cascade of hormones aka acne breakouts for periods.* prays this is bogus report* DO: Eat Non-Processed Carbs or Oats Tbh Id preferably starve than eat something that resembles animal feed but I guess thats the price we pay to look like the “after” girl in an acne commercial-grade. Oats are the right kind of carbs probs because it gazes miserable to eat and too because its high in antioxidants which weve fixed will not only give you clear/ glowy surface but too fights against anti-aging. DONT: Drink Soda To perfectly no ones stun except my own because I refuse to read labels written by health professionals people who are out to destroy my gaiety, soda are detrimental to you. And precisely because you suck diet soda doesnt mean youre safe. Because diet soda specially interrupts the necessary and healthy bacteria found in your gut. Likewise sucking any kind of soda can really fuck with your skin. Like, cause rosacea, eczema, and acne fucking with your surface. K. Just fuck me up rn then. Likewise, wtf am I supposed to order at the bar to go along with my vodka then? I cant merely drink vodka straight. I want to have clearer surface , not die. DO: Drink Kombucha Finally something that ogles good on my Instagram story and isnt going to fuck up my skin. About damn meter. Basically Kombucha is good for you because its fermented, and therefore full of probiotics, which will solve all your life difficulties. Im paraphrasing, but still. If you want clear surface by the time this weekend’s brunch moves around then chug some of this and profes like its alcohol something you enjoy drinking. So, in conclusion, anything that brings you exultation is maybe fucking up your skin and you should cut it from your diet ASAP. I am feeling #blessed rn that alcohol did not obligate the index, but thats chiefly because I refused to do any actual experiment that they are able to substantiate otherwise. Who says you cant attain your own predestination? Listen, if all else neglects and you have no self hold dont want to sacrifice your prosperity theres always Facetune. Read more: www.betches.com http://selfhelpantiagingtips.com/what-to-eat-for-clear-skin-what-foods-will-wreak-havoc-on-your-face-26/

[trendyelle]

What To Eat For Clear Skin& What Foods Will Wreak Havoc On Your Face

If youre anything like me, someone who is a evolve adult plows their body like a trashcan, then you realise the daily conflict that is doing whatever the fuck off require while also wanting to have a great figure and enormous scalp. Lifes hard whether it wishes to get fucked up at Superintendents Ball but likewise examine 100 years old in your Instagram story. Not that I would know. I did not go to Gov Ball, though I did invest the weekend “re going through” mimosas like water and devouring enough food to get me my own TLC reality show. That being said, I want to change. I want to be a brand-new me. A better me. A me who gives actual vitamins and minerals into her plan so her skin doesnt resemble the entire slice of pizza she chewed last-place darknes. So heres a directory of meat you are able to forestall like an ex-boyfriend slithering into your DMs and foods you are able to espouse because theyll fix your fucking heads. Damn, Ive got bars. DONT: Feed Canned Food/ Meats Gross. As if. Like, who even feeds canned fleshes anymore? Other than my ex from college who had this weird obsession with eating vienna sausages( which, in hindsight, should have been a ruby-red fucking pennant that this boy was a sociopath. That and his Belk credit card that he was always bragging about ). Canned and/ or highly processed foods have a shit ton of sodium in their own homes and justification your body to hold on to irrigate, which is why your look is always puffy or you have pouched under your eyes that can be seen from seat, and your acne is at World War III proportions. DO: Eat Salmon Aside from giving you a reason to pretend to be a foodie and likewise be objectionable on Instagram, snacking salmon is a sure road to get better looking scalp. Salmon is rich with omega-3 fatty battery-acids and healthy fattens. These fatties fortify cadre membranes and nourish the surface to stop you seeming fresh AF. DONT: Drink Green Juice Lol merely because you regularly say shit like #FitLife and #CleanEating on your IG does not mean you know wtf is good for you, because SURPRISE all those juices youre booze to purge your person are actually genuinely fucking bad for you. Juices are sugary as hell, especially the green juices which can have up to 50 grams of carbohydrate in them, which is actual destruction when it is necessary to having clear skin. ^ I envisage every fitstagrammer when the catch out they’ve been spouting liquid carbohydrate into their synagogues bodies DO: Suck A Protein Smoothie Aside from having something to talk about with the red-hot coach at your gym, protein smoothies can actually be beneficial for your skin. The more you know. Stay away from the juicer smoothies and opt for one with some protein in it. These types of smoothies are high in healthy flabs and wont leave your skin ogling more ratchet than your Snap story last weekend. DONT: Eat Ice Cream Okay, this one I viewed coming. Nothing that savor this good can be anything but destruction on your figure. And since Im not on my age rn in control of my organization I predict Im open to suggestions here. Ice cream is chock-full of sugar which are able to kind this fun stuff called advanced glycation end products which fucks up the protein in your torso. Why is that important you may ask? Because the proteins it fucks with the most are the ones that keep your skin plump and springy ogling. So mostly eating ice cream is age you.* steps into oncoming commerce* DO: Eat Dark Chocolate Dark chocolate aka the DUD of chocolates has a fuck ton of antioxidants in it, which is v good for your surface. So although it is penchants health and the whole duration youll be pleasing you two are ingesting real chocolate with real flavor at the least your surface will search good AF and protection against wrinkles and other bad shit. DONT: Drink Coffee HA HA HA HA this has to be some sort of sick laugh. You want me to give up my will to live caffeine? Do you too want me to commit homicide the next time person replies everyone to ministries and departments email series? DO YOU? This one is tough for me to wrap my psyche around because coffee is literally one of the only grounds I get out of bed in the morning, and therefore, the same reasons you get to experience this gleaming personality. That being said, coffee is a diuretic( imitation report Im sure !) which causes your person to lose sea and your skin to get v dehydrated. Stay away from this shit if you miss glowy AF skin. DO: Drink Hot Lemon Water This replacement sounds about as good as the Republican plan for health care but thats neither here nor there. Even though future prospects of booze red-hot lemon sea sounds about as seducing as sleeping with Jonathan The Tickle Monster, its actually super are you all right. Its hydrating, full of antioxidants, and yields some very much support efforts to your liver. Apparently, the liver is the main organ that detoxifies their own bodies and if youre full of toxins sucking on days that point in Y, youre more likely to break out. Sighs. And this is why we cant have neat things. DONT: Eat Bagels Okay, Im starting to feel personally victimized by this list. Like, is person looking at my bank word and seeing that I expend a large amount of my down time in coffee shop and/ or bagel stores? Because Im detecting truly assaulted rn. Apparently, bagels are the worst for your scalp and can lead to a cascade of hormones aka acne breakouts for days.* prays this is phony bulletin* DO: Eat Non-Processed Carbs or Oats Tbh Id instead starve than eat something that resembles animal feed but I guess thats the rate we pay to look like the “after” girl in an acne commercial-grade. Oats are the right kind of carbs probs because it gazes miserable to eat and too because its high in antioxidants which weve fixed will not only give you clear/ glowy scalp but likewise contends against anti-aging. DONT: Drink Soda To absolutely no ones astonish except my own because I refuse to read names written by health professionals people who are out to destroy my pleasure, soda is bad for you. And merely because you drink diet soda doesnt mean youre safe. Because diet soda especially disrupts the necessary and healthy bacteria found in your bowel. Likewise sucking any kind of soda are actually fuck with your surface. Like, justification rosacea, eczema, and acne fuck with your skin. K. Just fuck me up rn then. Likewise, wtf am I supposed to order at the bar to go along with my vodka then? I cant exactly suck vodka straight. I want to have clearer scalp , not die. DO: Drink Kombucha Finally something that searches good on my Instagram story and isnt going to fuck up my skin. About damn hour. Basically Kombucha is good for you because its fermented, and therefore full of probiotics, which will solve all your life questions. Im paraphrasing, but still. If you miss clear surface by the time this weekend’s brunch wheels around then chug some of this and profes like its alcohol something you experience drinking. So, in conclusion, anything that brings you exultation is maybe fucking up your surface and you should cut it from your diet ASAP. I am feeling #blessed rn that alcohol did not obligate the index, but thats largely because I refused to do any actual research that they are able to testify otherwise. Who says you cant form your own predestination? Listen, if all else flunks and you have no self restrain dont want to relinquish your prosperity theres ever Facetune. Read more: www.betches.com http://selfhelpantiagingtips.com/what-to-eat-for-clear-skin-what-foods-will-wreak-havoc-on-your-face-18/