#dwelling portably

[wildsummerrose]

When I lived in Europe, I had a washer in every apartment I lived in. They're considered standard.

In the US, this would be amazing!

Let me tell you about my panda mini-washer

As an apartment dweller, this is a game changer. My current apartment doesn’t have a laundry facility and the closest Laundromat about a 30 min bus ride which is just not practical. The mini-washer is a life saver

The panda mini washer hooks up to the sink, is incredibly lightweight (about 28 pounds, so light even I can lift it) and easy to use. 

It has a surprisingly large capacity. The basket from the first picture represents about one and a half loads. The jeans took up a whole load while the rest filled the bin only half way. 

Here’s the inside. The left is the washer the right is the spin dryer. Yes, it even drys.

Basically you shove your cloths into the washer, fill it up with water and let it go. I use my shower head to fill it up so it goes faster, the sink hook up took about five minutes to fill the whole tub, with the shower head is is down to a minute an a half. I do it in three wash cycles, a five minute rinse with baking soda, a five minute wash with soap and a three minute rinse with water. You have to drain and refill between each cycle so it’s a little more labor intensive than a traditional washer. 

That’s the spin dryer. It’s about half the capacity of the washer so one wash takes about two loads to dry. The spinner is much more effective than I was expecting. A three minute spin gets my cloths about 90% dry. I hang them up to air dry for that last 10%. 

The machine cost me about 150$. When you factor in two dollars for the bus, five for the machines (per week), the mini-washer pays for its self after only about six months worth of laundry. 

I’m not great at expressing emotion, but I’m hoping you can tell how excited I am.  Let me just say that the panda mini-washer is great and I highly recommend it to anyone currently using a Laundromat.  

[wendyyyyyyyy]

"The Princess and her Eight Knights"

Pairing : skz x fem reader (9th member, maknae)

Synopsis : Skz members taking care of you during that time of your month, while you were on tour.

Warning : No warning at all. Just pure fluff and wholesomeness all the way.

Enjoy!

----------

The day of the concert was already shaping up to be chaotic, and you weren’t exactly in the best mood. During soundcheck the day before, you had been snappy and bratty with everyone, but the boys knew better than to take it personally. Felix, being your self-proclaimed “bestie,” had pulled Hyunjin aside with a knowing smirk, whispering, “It’s time.”

“Again?” Hyunjin muttered with a sigh, rolling his eyes. But there was no annoyance behind it—only quiet understanding.

Felix, ever prepared, pulled out his phone and checked the tracker he’d set up for you months ago. You were too lazy to bother with one yourself, so he had taken it upon himself to track it for you, much to your embarrassment. “Yep. She probably doesn't even realize it yet.”

Later that evening, Hyunjin and Lee Know made a quick convenience store stop. While it was still to grab their own essentials, they secretly loaded their basket with your favorite ice cream and a stash of chocolates.

“She’ll be insufferable if we don’t have these,” Lee Know muttered with a smirk.

“She’s already insufferable,” Hyunjin shot back, chuckling as he placed the items on the counter.

. . .

Fast forward to the day of the concert.

You were doing your best to push through. The lights were blinding, the screams of STAY filling the massive venue as adrenaline coursed through your veins. But halfway through one of the songs, you began to feel an all-too-familiar discomfort—a dull ache in your abdomen, along with that unsettling dampness.

You froze, panic rising in your chest as you realized what had happened. You tried to continue performing, but the next time you turned, Seungmin’s sharp eyes caught the faint but noticeable red stain forming on your white pants, just below your hip.

Without a word, Seungmin took off his jacket mid-performance and draped it around your waist, securing it tightly. The move was subtle, but STAY noticed, gasps and murmurs rippling through the crowd. You wanted to cry from embarrassment, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it.

Han, quick on his feet, immediately moved toward you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder as he led you off stage. “Come on, let’s get you changed,” he whispered, his tone gentle.

The fans watched as the boys seamlessly adjusted their positions on stage, filling in for you without skipping a beat. Their professionalism was flawless, but their care for you was even more apparent, and the entire venue seemed to soften at the sight.

. . .

Backstage, you were still mortified. By the time you changed and cleaned up, the concert was wrapping up, and you felt the weight of the day crashing down on you.

Back at the hotel, you curled up in bed, ready to hide from the world. But that peace didn’t last long. A knock on your door made you groan, and when you opened it, Changbin stood there with the biggest grin on his face, holding out a hot pack.

“Special delivery!” he announced, wiggling the hot pack in his hand. “Look, it has my face on it. You’re welcome.”

You let out a laugh despite yourself, grabbing it from him. “Seriously? Only you would do this.”

But before you could shut the door, Hyunjin and Felix appeared, carrying bags of goodies. “Don’t think you’re getting rid of us,” Felix teased.

Hyunjin smirked as he plopped down on your bed, holding up a tub of your favorite ice cream. “We come bearing gifts.”

Soon, the rest of the boys filed in—Lee Know with a bag of chocolates, I.N clutching a stack of your favorite DVDs, and Han holding a fluffy blanket he had swiped from his own room.

“Group movie night!” I.N declared, setting up the portable DVD player on the desk.

“Guys, I’m fine. Really,” you tried to protest, but they weren’t having it.

“You say that, but you were crying over a jacket an hour ago,” Seungmin quipped, earning a chorus of laughs.

Changbin handed you the hot pack, his tone suddenly soft. “Seriously, though. You don’t have to be embarrassed. We’ve got you, okay?”

“Always,” Chan added from his spot on the couch, busy working on his laptop, but with a warm smile on his face.

And just like that, the room filled with laughter and teasing as you all settled in for the night. You felt a little embarrassed still, but more than that, you felt loved.

. . .

The next morning, “The Princess and Her Eight Knights” was trending on X. Clips of Seungmin wrapping his jacket around you, Han leading you backstage, and the way all of them subtly taking care of you had gone viral, with fans swooning over how considerate they were.

Chan showed you the hashtag over breakfast, a small smile on his face. “Looks like STAY thinks you’re royalty now.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a little like a princess—because you had eight knights who always had your back.

[britishgayporn]

Okay for my Car Seat Headrest fans, here's a quick guide on the concepts in the new song

Gethsemane : a garden at the foot of the Mount of Olives in East Jerusalem, where, according to the four Gospels of the New Testament, Jesus Christ underwent the Agony in the Garden and was arrested before his crucifixion

Tabernacle : Portable sanctuary for Israelis mentioned in The Book of Exodus (second book of the Bible and narrates the departure of the Israelites from Egypt, their preparation to inherit the promised land and their encounter with God on Mount Sinai), considered the dwelling place of God.

Atargartis : Chief goddess of northern Syria in Classical antiquity, which was represented as a fish with the head, arms and breasts of a woman. She was married to Hadad and her daughter, Semiramis, would be queen of Babylon.

Holy Wounds : The wounds on Jesus Christ at his crucifixion, 2 on the hands, 2 on the legs and one on the chest. It can also be about the 5 pains of Jesus

The agony of the garden

The scourging at the pillar

The crowning of thorns

The carring of the cross

The crucification

[faithisyours]

Sick in Bed

A Caitvi sickfic

Word count: 2.2k

cw: all fluff

an: Howdy y’all, sorry for my absence, school decided to immediately kick my ass as soon as I returned. Nonetheless, I give you caitvi sickfic as promised a month ago. I’m also working on a Vi nightmare fic, and that should hopefully be out by the end of the month. The List is also on temporary hold, but hopefully by March I should have the next chapter out. Sorry for the delay. Hope you enjoy!

The early morning reys woke Caitlyn from sleep. She blinked blearily, rubbed the sand out of her eyes, and sat up. Vi was still asleep next to her, curled up under the blankets in a way where the sun could not disturb her. Cait admired her for a moment, as was her routine when she woke up before her. Her eye traced the soft curve of her cheek, the spattering of her freckles, the sharpness of her scars. But asleep, the sharpness of Vi seemed to smooth, like no problem in the world could touch her. Every problem would have to go through Caitlyn, first.

She leaned down and gave Vi a gentle kiss on the forehead, then slipped out of bed to go get ready. Cait had an early meeting this morning to discuss the future of the enforcers, how funds should be allocated, and new training initiatives. She hoped the meeting would be productive, a step in the right direction, a new beginning. Quickly she got dressed, then slipped her way out of the manor, grabbing a portable breakfast on the way out.

The meeting lasted hours, but the time flew, and by the end of it, Cait was feeling proud, hopeful, and incredibly tired. She made her way back to the Kiramman estate, excited to share all that was discussed with Vi. So, as soon as she got home, she headed straight towards the library, sure to find Vi there, but found it empty, the fireplace not even lit. Caitlyn found this strange; usually Vi was in there this time of day. Not dwelling on it, though, she altered course, making her way towards the kitchen. But again she came up empty.

“Vi,” she called out, continuing to pop her head into other rooms in search of her girlfriend. “Violet, where are you?” No response. In fact, the house was dead silent. So, she took to the stairs, aiming straight for the bedroom in hopes of finding clues that led to the whereabouts of Vi.

But when Caitlyn cracked the door to the bedroom open, she was met with a very similar sight from when she left. Nothing was out of place save Cait’s robe on the floor near the closet from when she got dressed. Not even the desk chair had been nudged an inch. The only difference was that Vi was awake, albeit still curled up in bed. Concern twisted her gut. Vi rarely if ever stayed in bed this late, and when she did she was usually on the brink of death. In a flash, Caitlyn was crossing the room, making her way towards Vi’s side of the bed. Vi, although still buried under the covers, had propped herself up with pillows, her head resting lightly on the cushioned headboard. She was sniffling slightly, and rather pale, with a thin sheen of sweat, and when Cait raised her hand to feel her, Vi broke into a deep, throaty cough that sounded like it hurt.

“Oh, my love, you're sick,” Caitlyn said, pulling her hand away from Vi’s burning forehead.

“It’s nothing, just a small cough,” Vi brushed off, but even talking seemed like it physically drained her energy.

“You’re burning up, darling. How long have you felt like this?” she asked gently.

“Since I woke up,” Vi responded. She closed her eyes and leaned back fully into the pillows, but was interrupted by another violent cough. Cait placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to steady her through her coughing, but it didn’t help much.

Caitlyn surveyed her very sick girlfriend, trying to come up with a plan. But the sharp edge of guilt met her first. If only she had noticed this morning. She could have postponed the meeting. Could have been taking care of Vi this entire time. Or she could have brought back some medicine. How had she not noticed? She struggled to push those thoughts aside and instead focused on what to do. Vi’s fever needed to go down, she needed water and food and medicine. And something for her throat. And probably her runny nose. Cait’s mind went a mile-a-minute with worry, but she focused on the first thing, Vi’s fever.

“Alright, darling, we need to break this fever you have, and I think a bath will help. Can you make it to the bath?” Vi grunted in response, which did little to ease Caitlyn’s worry. She straightened and headed for the bathroom, turning both bathtub handles to full. The water couldn’t be too hot, but it also couldn’t be too cold. Cait also added some eucalyptus oil and bath salts to the water in hopes it would help clear some of Vi’s congestion.

When Cait walked out of the bathroom and towards the bed, she saw Vi, eyes cracked open, watching her. “You're gonna make me get up?” Vi grumbled.

“Unfortunately that’s the only way to get you into the bath,” Cait responded. She leaned down, gave Vi a kiss on the forehead (a pre-apology), and ripped the bandaid off, or in Vi’s case, pulled the covers back. Vi let out a disdainful whine, but it was short-lived as Cait pulled her arm over her shoulder and dragged her from bed. This was much easier said than done, considering Vi was actually just pure muscle and was not helping in the slightest.

But eventually Caitlyn made it to the bathroom, a grumbling, achy, feverish Vi propped up against her. She leaned Vi against the sink, removed her arm from around her shoulders, and went to check the water temp. It was slightly too cold for Cait’s liking, so she turned the cold faucet off and left the hot one running. She then returned her attention to Vi, who was pathetically out of it, eyes closed, on the verge of falling back asleep.

“I’m going to take your clothes off now,” Cait said, voice low and laced with care.

“Kinky,” Vi mumbled back. Alight, so I guess she wasn’t that out of it.

Luckily, Vi was still in her pajamas, which meant Cait didn't have to struggle to take off too many articles of clothing. She started with Vi’s tank top first, which luckily was the one with the snaps, so all Cait had to do was unsnap it and pull it from Vi’s shoulders. She set it aside carefully, then leaned down, placed Vi’s hands on her shoulders, and gently grabbed Vi’s calf, prompting her to lift the limb so that Cait could take her sock off. She repeated the action with the other leg, then pulled Vi’s shorts and underwear down to around her ankles. She stood, helped Vi step out of them, and then helped guide her as she climbed in the bath.

The water was the perfect temp, not too hot and not too cold. The smell of Eucalyptus wafted through the air, and when Vi finally sat, submerged up to the chest, she let out a long sigh.

“I’m going to make tea and heat up some soup for you. I’ll be right back, alright darling?” Cait said, brushing a stray hair back behind Vi's ear as she said it. Vi just hummed in response, a noise much more positive than those of its predecessors.

With a parting kiss to Vi’s temple, Caitlyn slipped from the bathroom and made her way down to the kitchen, where she quickly prepared the tea. She went with peppermint and made sure there was a large serving of honey to go along with it. And thankfully there happened to be left over soup from the other night’s dinner, so she reheated that on the stove. She also filled a pitcher with ice water and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. Vi needed to stay hydrated.

She made quick work of all this, and was soon gathering it all on a tray. Carefully, Caitlyn made her way back up to the bedroom, placed the tray on the side table closest to Vi’s side of the bed, and returned to the bathroom, only to find Vi, head reclined against the tub, softly snoring.

Cait’s heart clenched. Vi really needed to rest, but the water had gone cold, and she needed to get out before she caught something else. With gentle hands, Cait ran soothing circles across Vi’s shoulders, whispering Vi, Vi, wake up darling, until eventually Vi’s eyes cracked open and she let out yet another groan.

“The bath’s gone cold,” Cait said as an apology. “And there is soup and tea waiting for you in the bedroom.” Cait guided Vi up from and out of the bath, an achievement that took effort, but less than that of getting Vi in the bath to begin with, so Cait took that as a sign that Vi was starting to feel slightly better. She towelled her off, making sure every inch of Vi’s skin was dry before helping her into a fresh set of pajamas, this time an old t-shirt and sleep shorts.

Once Vi was fully dressed, Cait led her out towards the bed, helping Vi sit right on the edge. She then pulled the small side table, the one that held the tray, closer, the wooden feet scraping slightly on the tile floor, to sit right in front of Vi. Vi took one look and actually turned her nose up at it, completely disinterested.

“I’m not hungry,” Vi grumbled, sniffling afterwards.

“You haven’t eaten all day. You need to get something down. How about some tea to start,” Cair prompted. “It's peppermint, one of your favorites…”

Vi’s nose came back down, surveyed the tea, and tuned up again. “What’s in it for me?” Vi asked, like this was some sort of a trade deal.

“Not starving, is what’s in it for you,” Cait replied, trying, and failing, to keep the slight edge out of her voice. She was tired, and really just wanted to cuddle Vi back to health, but they were human, and humans needed to eat. When Vi didn’t turn her head down, Cait continued, “Alright, I’ll make you a deal. You eat and drink everything in front of you right now and then once you’re feeling better I’ll let you do anything you want for a whole day.”

Vi perked up at this. “Anything I want?” Cait nodded. “Alright, fine,” she agreed. So Cait grabbed a spoonful of soup and brought it up to Vi’s lips, her opposite hand hovering below to prevent drippage. Vi looked up at Cait, a crease forming between her eyebrows, but opened her mouth, accepting the spoonful and swallowing it down. “I don’t need babything,” Vi grumbled as her girlfriends brought another spoonful up to her mouth.

“Well, what if I want to baby you?” Cait asked, lifting the spoon slightly to indicate that Vi should open her mouth.

She did, swallowing down another spoonful, and shrugged. “If you insist.”

They continued on like that, Cait bringing spoonfuls of soup up to Vi’s mouth, Vi swallowing it down, an intermission of tea and or water breaking the soup flow, until the tray was empty. By this time, the light streaming in through the windows was bathing the bedroom golden, indicating sunset was right around the corner. Cait moved the side table back to its original position, the legs scraping on the floor as she did so, and helped to move Vi’s achy form into bed.

But when Cait turned to move away, prepared to go get some quick work done before bedtime, Vi let out a squeaked, “Cuddles?” which had Cait melting from the inside out. She turned to look at Vi, whose eyes were full of sleepiness and a slight hint of pleading. Cait couldn’t say no, not even if she tried. And she really didn’t want to. There were some things left over from the meeting that needed to be finished, paperwork to be signed and files to organize, but Cait was tired, and she couldn't agree more to cuddles.

“Alright, but let me go change quickly. And then we can cuddle all night long,” se said, caressing Vi’s cheek and giving her a soft smile.

“Okay,” Vi grumbled, but there was no edge, and when Cait’s hand dropped away from her face, she leaned back into the pillows, making herself comfortable under the covers. But her eyes remained on Cait, watching as she moved to the closet, pulled out a fresh set of matching baby blue silk pajamas, slipped into them, then crossed the room back towards the bed to finally meet Vi under the covers. Vi didn’t wait, she nestled her head into the crook of Caitlyn’s shoulder while one of her hands found its way just under Cait’s silk tank top, the skin-to-skin helping her drift further into sleep.

“Do you feel a little better?” Cait whispered into her hair. Vi simply nodded, nuzzled in further, and closed her eyes, drifting off to the sound of her love’s heart beating steadily beneath her ear. Cait was slower to follow, considering it was still pretty light out, so she simply admired Vi, gently played in her hair, and enjoyed the steady breathing of her girlfriend, until eventually she followed Vi into sleep.

Thanks for reading! Also you can’t convince me vi doesn’t wear socks to sleep and I saw a video on what arcane character wear to sleep and cait’s was a light blue silk matching set and I said yes thank you I’ll use that.

[asimplearchivist]

𝓡𝓲𝓽𝓾𝓪𝓵

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐕 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐗𝐕

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ khonshu was unfamiliar with the concept of self-care, but it would seem that he's unexpectedly well-versed in others. pairing(s) ☽ khonshu/reader | promises kept!verse word count ☾ 2.9k a/n ☽ ⤏ my fourth entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events. I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for promises kept on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters. ⤏ this took a turn I didn't anticipate. khonshu kind of got away from me, tbh. have a flirty old bird I guess? (@angel-of-the-moons I feel like you might enjoy this one.🤭) ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS ENTRY ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY ☽

What are you doing?

The rumbled words emerged from the shadows hemmed up in the corners of the bathroom more like a disinterested observation than a question.

“Would you care to take a guess?” you offered, opening your eyes and glancing towards the dimly lit silhouette having knelt in front of the door.

The warm, humid room was cramped and ill-suited for more than one person to occupy it at one time, but that fact didn’t seem to have stopped Khonshu from materializing at your side—likely in pursuit of tracking down your exact location since you weren’t in the living room or your bedroom like you usually were at this hour. It was a slow night in London, for once—the police channels had been quiet all evening, so you hadn’t felt the need to be prepared for the moon god’s urgent beck and call. Ru was winding down from school and homework with Lizzie watching her favorite baking show, and your portable speaker played music at the necessary volume to disguise your murmured responses to the lunar deity’s incredulity.

Bathing. In the dark. He tilted his skull. The electricity is not malfunctioning.

“It’s meant to be relaxing.” You raised a hand out of the steaming water to indicate the row of flickering candles lining the broad posterior lip of the tub flush against the wall. “And I can see perfectly well.”

He leaned forward, hands planted on his thighs not unlike a child, and you noticed that his staff was propped against the door frame. You are…self-soothing?

He must have picked up that term recently, as you’d definitely never heard him use it before. “Sort of. More like self-care. Liz offered to keep Ru entertained so I could get a breather until supper’s ready.”

Hmm. Khonshu sank back into his haunches. So you simmer yourself…and to what end?

You chuckled, pulling your legs up and folding your arms across the tops of your knees—modesty was a foreign concept to the ancient being, having associated with a culture that dwelled in the desert and thus rarely utilized complete coverings save to block the harshest of sunlight—and while you’d mostly grown accustomed to his penchant for invading your privacy at inopportune times, you didn’t particularly want to explain the entire premise to him with your chest on full display. “Hot water benefits the human body in many ways—relaxed muscles, improved moods, and the like—not to mention the positive effects of aromatherapy and inhalation of steam.”

Is that why you’re steeping a tea bag?

“It was a bathbomb wrapped in cloth with flowers and stuff in it—that’s why the water’s purple. It’s scented with lavender and chamomile. Smell it?”

How could I not? It has fumigated the entire room.

You shrugged. “At least it’s nice—better than BO, anyway.”

His shoulders scrunched in the only approximation of a frown you’d been able to determine. I see little point in any of this frivolity.

“Have you ever had a spa day, Khonshu?”

The inexpressive dimensions of his skull could not morph to adapt to his dripping dubiety, but it didn’t have to—his once uncanny stillness spoke enough to it.

“It’s nice,” you continued, ignoring his skeptical grunt. “With all those priests and priestesses fawning over you in your temples, I figured you’d have been pampered a time or two over the course of several thousand years.”

We were only allowed to interact directly with our avatars—we oftentimes utilized them as oracles, or spoke to the priesthood through statues, visions, dreams, or signs. Khonshu pushed his shoulders back. They would tend to our sculptures and reliefs as if they were our bodies, make offerings to them, enact rituals in our names, but…nothing quite like this.

“That’s a shame. I think a deep-tissue massage would do you a lot of good.” You reached for the exfoliator and the bar of soap and lathered up the perforated weave in order to scrub yourself so you’d at least look semi-productive. “Maybe some moisturization wouldn’t hurt…last time I saw your elbows, they looked crusty as hell.”

At first you thought you might actually have rendered him speechless, but you should have known better—another cursory peek in his direction revealed that he was merely observing.

I do recall a similar practice, he responded, tapering his beak down towards you, although it was generally utilized in preserving the khat of the mortals that journeyed west.

You rolled your eyes. “Of course. It wouldn’t offer you much of a vast improvement, then, huh? There’s not a whole lot I could do for a mummified bird.”

Khonshu scoffed, but said no more.

You began to wash your body in earnest, starting with your face, then moved down your neck, shoulders, arms, torso, pelvis, legs, and feet. You tried to reach around to tend to your back in the same way, but you winced as the action tugged at sore muscles beneath your shoulder blade—a scuffle with a carjacker the night before had resulted in him collapsed unconscious in the street, and you hadn’t trusted the police not to run him over in their haste to capture him (as well as a glimpse of you in their ever-persistent effort in pinning down the identity of their local do-gooder vigilante), so you’d had to drag him onto the sidewalk with…mixed results. The man had been big enough that he could have carried the car away with him, if the whim had so struck him, instead of hot-wiring it.

Allow me.

You startled as Khonshu’s hand curled over your arm to grasp the porous swatch of sudsy material. You watched, enraptured, as the gauze binding his flesh receded like sand slipping through an hourglass to reveal the pockmarked, ashen skin underneath—but you had only a glimpse before he withdrew with the stretched loofa.

Give me your back.

You twisted adjacent to the length of the tub and leaned forward obediently, deigning not to comment upon it. You supposed that wet wrappings wouldn’t be a pleasant sensation for anybody.

Khonshu imitated your earlier actions, although he was unexpectedly gentler. He dragged the loofa in rhythmic circles from the nape of your neck steadily down, from side to side, to the small of your back—then, to your continued surprise, he placed the fabric on your thigh before cupping his hands in the water and pouring it over your skin to wash away the suds. He then wiped away the rest, the roughened texture of his fingers softened by the soap and water, the pliability of your skin, although you noticed this touch lingered far longer.

You said nothing as he began to explore the typography of your spine and ribcage, seemingly subconsciously. To be such a hardass about almost everything, as well as an unforgiving sparring partner, you had almost forgotten how careful he could be. A foolish notion, really, as you were fully aware of how he treated Ru like porcelain on the verge of shattering—he always had. The methodicality of it lulled you into a trance-like state, your eyelids drooping as you leaned into both of his hands, now working in tandem to press and stroke the tension out of your muscles.

…When was the last time someone had touched you like this? You couldn’t recall. Your ex-husband hadn’t usually utilized this intimate a method of aftercare, even while you’d been trying for a baby. You’d been too busy with Ru and chores during the day to schedule an appointment, although you suspected that a deep-tissue would do you a world of good—Khonshu’s armor always healed your wounds if you wore it long enough, but it still often left you stiff if you’d hyperextended yourself during combat.

Khonshu dug the heel of his palm into that one incredibly tender catch under your shoulder blade. You sucked in a breath and winced, your entire back going rigid against the pain that lanced up into your neck. His displeased grunt was much closer to your ear than you’d anticipated, and you opened your eyes to glance up at him out of your periphery to see that he’d hunched over you.

You did not tell me that you were still in pain, he finally rumbled sternly. Why did you release the armor before you were healed?

“I am healed,” you told him, “just a little sore. It’s normal. I guess it doesn’t stitch everything back together exactly where it was before.”

He grumbled in refutation, but tapped his fingertips against the arch of your spine. Relax. It will only grow worse if you are tense.

“It’s not exactly—comfortable!” you squeaked, jerked forward to avoid the insistent digging of his fingers.

Of all the methods he could have used to steady you, reaching up and curling the length of his hand around the column of your throat was decidedly not what you would ever have expected. Your pulse leapt against the perfectly measured, unoppressive pressure he applied, and—in spite of the copious amount of heat flooding your face—you had to admit that it worked to keep you as still as a statue.

An inexplicable warmth—tingly like the slow creep of magic his armor provided to alleviate your wounds, but far more concentrated (and if you didn’t know any better, you’d have remarked that it almost felt like lidocaine)—wreathed his free hand as he began to knead the tightness out of the problem spot. You groaned softly as he did so, the vibration of the sound resonating through his hand and tickling your throat in turn, squeezing your eyes shut as you twitched on reflex to avoid the pain. Even with his magic’s numbing ability, the injury must have been worse than you’d initially anticipated because it swept right around the curve of your ribs and under—

“Hey!” you gasped, lurching away from those long, beguiling fingers as he followed the muscle to your torso and almost brushed the underside of your breast. This caused the blade of his palm to dig into your jugular, pitching your voice into a broken, if muffled, squeal. “Whoa, watch it—that’s off-limits!”

You’ve a rib out of place, he deadpanned.

“I could have my sacrum detached from my pelvic girdle, but that doesn’t mean I’d let you fondle my ass to fix it, either,” you hissed, trying to pull away, in vain.

Why must you be so stubborn? he groused, pressing his palm into your side directly over the rib in question. His soothing power sank into your body, and you had a hard time resisting the relief it brought. I had no intention of groping you.

You’d thought your face couldn’t grow any hotter, but you were promptly proven wrong. You told yourself that it was strictly the proximity of another person that was causing your uncontrollable reaction, that it had been years since the last time you’d been in such a compromising and vulnerable situation, not that it was Khonshu specifically. (You had always been shit at lying, even to yourself, admittedly.) “I, uh…sorry. Just…wasn’t expecting that.”

I did not mean to startle you. The curve of his beak descended over the slope of your opposite shoulder and the golden, emblematic crescent moon bound over his chest brushed against your back. …Just know that if I ever touched you in such a manner, there is no question that you would be anticipating it, Srit mwt.

You mouthed a curse and dropped your head as much as you could manage with him still holding you in place in hopes to hide your utter mortification. He should not have been having this effect on you. Khonshu was many things, but sexual was not a word you had mentally associated with him at any point.

You remembered, idly, that your research into his mythos had revealed that he was regarded as a god of fertility.

“Uh-huh,” you responded lamely, swallowing and surrendering to him just so that it would be over sooner. You’d planned on soaking for a while after washing up to enjoy the hot water, but now all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and scream into your pillow until your heart stopped drumming itself into a tattoo against the inside of your thoracic cavity.

Then the god of the moon had the the nerve—the fucking gall—to chuckle; a low, raspy noise that carried into your ribcage like a subwoofer ricocheted sound through a vehicle. You needn’t worry. I do not extend such invitations lightly…and I am not particularly inclined to commence anything that could not be completed.

Fuck. Honestly.

You were familiar with the banter the pair of you had shared over the years of serving as his avatar, but you’d never known him to…was he flirting with you, or were you imagining things? Surely not. He despised humans, humanity in general, thought himself above mere mortals to the point that he only associated with whomever he’d selected to be his Fist at any given time (as far as you were aware, anyway).

This was new. It was foreign and unexpected and completely out of character for him. Just when you’d thought you had pinned down his personality, he’d gone and revealed another aspect of himself—like a phase of the celestial body he represented. It didn’t make you uncomfortable, per se (quite the opposite, in fact, if you were to be totally honest with yourself; you’d made somewhat suggestive remarks to him in passing before, mostly for humor’s sake, but he’d never before responded in kind), but it was disarming you in a way for which you never could have prepared yourself.

He had seen you naked before—numerous times, in fact, much to your chagrin, since he couldn’t be bothered to at least knock on something before he appeared out of thin air—but he’d never acted like he’d even noticed your body, nor had he ever cared about the modern concept of modesty. You’d learned to live with it, had grown accustomed to him appearing at the most inopportune of moments. You’d just assumed that he might not even feel any attraction whatsoever, or at least not towards you.

Was that assumption incorrect? Had you misread his body language all this time? Was he just worryingly skilled at hiding any reactions he could have had? You hadn’t a clue—you didn’t know what to think, especially since you swore you could feel each individual crease on his cool, coarse palms against your heated flesh. He was a dominant entity, controlling out of necessity given the nature of his creed, but you’d never thought that it could carry over into a context quite like this.

…Of course, you’d never thought he’d offer to help you bathe, either, but here you were: naked, wet, and as vulnerable as one could be, trying very hard to hide exactly what he was doing to you simply by touching you comparatively chastely in sharp contrast to what the tone of his voice might have indicated.

You cleared your throat, realizing that you’d been quite a little too long. You could almost hear his smug grin—if he were even capable of displaying it in his primary, decayed shape. “...Thanks. For the…for the help. I feel a lot better now.”

Impatient, as always, he tutted. Just a moment.

“No, really, I’m good, you’ve worked your ma—gic!”

The sharp, high noise that escaped you as his hand compressed your rib and set it back in place with a dull click was worse than you could’ve imagined. Khonshu, mercifully, withdrew as quickly as he’d approached, leaving you reeling and dazed. You sucked in a breath, gritting your teeth against the urge to cringe, and probed your side experimentally.

There. That wasn’t so bad, now was it, hmm?

“If you weren’t a literal deity that could smite me from this plane of existence, I would offer you some very choice words on the quality of your bedside manner.”

That has never restricted you before. Khonshu’s spindly form creaked as he stood and straightened to his full height (or as close to it as was possible, given the bathroom’s low ceiling), leaving you shivering in the humid air he stirred in his wake. Although I doubt you will complain that I finished the job that you failed to allow the armor to finish.

“Well,” you started indignantly, “I guess I can count on you to finish everything I don’t, then, huh?”

A beat of silence passed, and that was arguably worse than anything he could’ve said in reply.

You dropped your head into your hands and groaned. “Forget I said that.”

He had the audacity to laugh at you. Should you ever require assistance, he crooned, all you need do is to call my name. I will hear you at any time or place.

You reached a hand back to deliver him a solitary finger, refraining from the urge to crawl into the drain and drown yourself. “I think I’ve had about enough of you tonight, thanks.”

If that’s all you can take, then I worry that you couldn’t—

“Shut,” you ground out, “the fuck up.”

Khonshu laughed as he slipped back into whatever the hell sort of fifth dimension he lived in when he wasn’t plaguing you with his insufferability.

[peapodsinspace]

You can hear happiness - chapter 3

One piece (anime/manga)

One-shot collection written by me!!!

Chapter 2

Read it on ao3

Rating: general audiences

Warnings: very very minor instance of non-consensual touching, just on the back and not done by any straw hats. It was a ghost. (It’s not dwelled it’s just a gag)

Tags: Sanji & Usopp, humor, fluff, bickering, usopp gets to be sassy cus i love him

Description: it’s Sanji and Usopp’s perspective of our lovely haunted forest this time! Featuring scary noises, more scary noises, and no making out. sorry sanuso-ers

A festival night.

   The Straw Hats were lucky to have happened upon this island the night before the celebrations started. Lights, fancy costumes, fresh food… booze for the Marimo…

   It promised a fun night.

   Walking through the town, hand-in-hand, enjoying each other’s company and the lovely warm breeze. All dressed up for the festival, hair and makeup done with perfect precision in a way that just brings out everything beautiful about one’s appearance. And finishing the night off watching fireworks shoot into the dark, night sky, exploding and spreading their vivid colors over the stars.

   Sanji was pretty fucking pissed he ended up with Usopp of all people instead of, you know, the beautiful Nami or graceful Robin.

   A hike was not part of his plans for tonight, but it was Robin who’d mentioned it and how could he ever say no to her?

   Everything started out as well as it could. Franky had robbed him of the chance to walk beside Robin, but that was fine. Usopp was trembling from fear the entire time but that’s just Usopp. Sanji felt a little bad for him, so he attempted to stick close with the sniper, ‘cause hey, they were friends after all. And if that’s what it takes to make Usopp feel better then it’s fine.

   It was not fine.

   One moment they were all together, and in less than a blink Robin (and Franky) was gone, and he was left alone.

   Or, he was left with Usopp, which normally wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t for the ghost stories Robin told them earlier.

   So, instead of a nice walk with Robin he had to babysit his scaredy-cat sniper.

   Speaking of, Sanji cast a glance at the man beside him. Usopp was hunched forward slightly, eyes darting around nervously as he took in their surroundings.

   After getting split up, Sanji didn’t take too long to continue the walk, since, after all, Robin did want to know if the town’s stories had any truth to them. So even if he couldn’t be with her tonight, helping her on her quest for knowledge was still more than enough for him.

   Usopp, of course, didn’t want to be left alone so he practically ran to catch up with the cook. Which brings them to now.

   “I’m not seeing any ghosts,” Sanji grumbled. He could really use a cigarette right about now, but he’d somehow forgotten to bring along the little tin he used as a portable ashtray. He must’ve misplaced it sometime around changing his jacket to account for the warm weather and him changing it again after Luffy spilled water over himself and Sanji both. Either way, no ashtray meant no cigarette, since Sanji definitely wasn’t going to leave a trail of cigarette butts in his wake.

   “Don’t jinx us!” Usopp hissed through clenched teeth.

   Sanji held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry.”

   Usopp shook his head, opting to continue quivering instead of argue.

   Sanji side-eyed him, watching the way the light shifted around them due to Usopp’s shaky grip on the lantern. That was no doubt the cause of the dancing shadows around them.

   “I swear on the five blues, Usopp, if you drop that lantern, you’re a dead man. I shouldn’t have trusted you with our only light source out here.”

   Usopp whipped his head around. “Are you kidding me?” he squeaked. “You have a lighter! You can literally set yourself on fire! This is not our only light source!”

   Sanji huffed. “And what if you drop it and it breaks? Then you’ll start a forest fire.”

   “What if a bolt of lightning straight from the heavens strikes us down here and now?”

   “So now you’re a smart-ass?”

   Usopp sniffed. “I always have been, thanks.”

   Rolling his eyes, Sanji turned back to the trail in front of them. He had successfully taken Usopp’s mind off the ghost stories (for now at least) so all they had to do was keep walking ‘til they met up with the others again. Then maybe there would still be time to watch the fireworks with Nami.

   Sanji sighed absently.

   Watching fireworks with Nami… what a dream-

   His thoughts were interrupted by a cold hand running down his back, light as a feather and leaving chill bumps in its wake.

   Standing up straighter, Sanji grimaced. “At least take me out to dinner first, Usopp,” he muttered, glancing away. He absently rubbed his fingers together, wishing for that cigarette again.

   “What the hell are you talking about?” Usopp asked after a pause.

   Sanji looked back over at him, frowning. “You just touched my back? Sensually?”

   Usopp gaped at him. “No, I didn’t! I haven’t touched you at all! I’ve been like this-” he gestured to his free hand, which was wrapped tightly around himself in a half-hug. “-since we started walking!”

   “What the hell…?” Sanji breathed, brows furrowing. “I definitely felt a hand.”

   Usopp stopped walking, staring at him with pure terror in his eyes. “If I didn’t touch your back,” he started.

   “Sure you didn’t,” Sanji muttered, turning on his heel to face the sniper.

   Usopp ignored his comment. “Then do you think that maybe it was…”

   The cook looked up at the sky, sighing deeply. “No, Usopp, I don’t think a ghost tried to feel me up.”

   “Okay, but it wasn’t me!” he repeated, waving his arms around (oh god the lantern-) with a frantic look.

   Sanji rolled his eyes, snatching the lantern from Usopp’s hand. The light around them shifted, as if the shadows themselves were moving to surround them. That is, if shadows could move consciously.

   “I probably just imagined it, alright? C’mon, let’s get going.”

   Usopp nodded quickly, falling into step beside Sanji.

   Their walk continued without any commentary from either of them.

   Truthfully, Sanji was a bit freaked out, but not because he was scared of a ghost coming to haunt him. It was just that the darkness around them was almost suffocating, and the trees on either side were lined with brush so thick he couldn’t have seen very much even if it wasn’t nighttime.

   He was on edge.

   Something real could come out of nowhere and he might not have enough time to react.

   Usopp shuffled a little closer to him, so they were walking shoulder to shoulder.

   Sanji couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him.

   He reached his hand over behind Usopp and patted his shoulder a few times.

   The sniper violently flinched, head snapping over to look at Sanji. “What? Is something wrong? What was that?” he asked, urgently.

   “I don’t know! You seemed scared so I was trying to comfort you,” he hissed.

   Usopp frowned. “Well, it wasn’t very comforting! It was… startling! You startled me.”

   Sanji huffed, stuffing his free hand into his pocket.

   The trees swayed around him, unbothered by his ‘startling’ shoulder patting.

   Leaves rustled and swayed, unchanged by the two who traveled by them.

   There was nothing near them other than, well, bugs, probably. But that wasn’t anything to worry about.

    Sanji ignored the shiver that went down his spine.

   Bugs aside, though, Sanji couldn’t help but feel like they were being followed by something.

   He resisted the urge to look behind them as to not scare Usopp shitless.

   The forest seemed to have a voice of its own– a quiet sound, timid. Like a low humming reverberating through the roots of the trees, carried up the trunks and into the branches and the leaves.

   Their footsteps were duller now where the trail had become more dirt and less stone.

   The humming continued.

   Sanji licked his lips.

   CRAACK!

   The sound boomed through the trees, seeming to make even the forest itself startle and go silent.

   Usopp squeaked out of fear, latching onto Sanji’s arm with both his hands.

   The cook turned, scanning the tree line again as they stood on the trail.

   Nothing.

   He couldn’t see anything.

   Sanji took a slow breath in, held it, and let it out in a hiss through his teeth.

   “Let’s go,” he muttered, tugging Usopp along by the iron grip he had on Sanji’s arm.

    Something felt wrong to him, something he couldn’t explain. It may have just been the dark, or hell, maybe he was scared by Robin’s ghost stories, too.

   But either way, whatever the cause of his… suspicion was –because it wasn’t fear– he didn’t want to stay out here any longer than he had to.

   Usopp, he assumed, would agree.

   Their shoes made a dull thump-thump-thump on the dirt below their feet, ringing out in a much faster pace than before.

   Sanji was done with this haunted forest bullshit.

   His fast pace caused the lantern he held to swing back and forth erratically, thrashing around in sync with the swaying dance of the shadows surrounding them.

   Thump-thump-thump-thumpthump...

   “Do you hear that?” Usopp breathed.

   Hear…?

   Thump-thumpthump-thump-thump-thumpthumpthump-

   “Footsteps,” Sanji observed. “Not ours.”

    Usopp paled.

    Turning to see behind them, and swinging Usopp around in the process, Sanji squared his shoulders a bit, widening his stance.

   Whatever was out there chose the wrong damn people to terrorize.

   Usopp seemed to realize his intentions. “You’re not going to fight a ghost,” he said, disbelieving.

   “Sure I am.” Sanji huffed. “Look, what else are we supposed to do?” He glanced over at the sniper, who was giving him a look, as if he wasn’t about to save their asses from certain death at the hands of some… forest spirit.

   The footsteps continued their approach, at what was maybe slightly above a leisurely pace.

   “I’m not about to get murdered tonight,” Usopp hissed, tugging Sanji towards him by the arm and sprinting down the path.

   Sanji stumbled after him, cursing under his breath.

   He was hunched forwards slightly, where Usopp held his arm a little too low, and he had to fight to not run right into him.

   Usopp seemed intent on getting them the hell away, which wasn’t exactly something Sanji could blame him for.

   Ghost or no ghost, this forest was too damn creepy.

   He hoped Robin was alright.

   Sanji stumbled, throwing his free arm out to try and re-balance.

   “If we have to run this fast, can’t you a least give me a little room to move my legs?” he asked, speaking in between rough breaths. 

   Usopp glared at him. “You’ll just turn around and try to fight that thing again and then we’ll never get out of here,” he accused.

   “I’m not the damn marimo! I don’t want to pick a fight, I’m just trying to serve up what this thing’s got coming,” he hissed.

    “Whatever, just– look!” Usopp whipped his head around to see in front of them. “Cobblestones!”

   Sanji glanced down. “Okay, and?”

   Usopp tugged on his arm, and– “Would you quit that?” he tugged his arm back in retaliation.

   “It’s the town!” Usopp continued, tugging him again to gesture ahead of them, where the trees had started opening up. It was the same place they’d started, while they were still all walking together.

   And– wait– on that bench! It was–

   “ROBIN, MY LO-OVE!”

   Usopp yelled in protest, now stumbling after Sanji, which served the bastard right, really.

   He didn’t care, though!

   Because there was Robin, unharmed and lovely as ever.

   He skidded to a stop in front of her, Usopp taking several steps more. He leaned dangerously forward, held up only by Sanji’s arm.

   Franky grabbed him by the front of his overalls, hoisting the sniper up into his feet and–

   Oh, there was Franky.

   “Hello, Robin~!” he swooned.

    She smiled slightly. “Hello, to you, too. I must ask, why were you two running so fast?”

    “I was just so happy to see you!” Sanji responded chipperly.

   “Nah, you were running before that, too,” Franky observed.

   Sanji blinked at him.

   Wait.

   He narrowed his eyes.

  “Franky,” he said, coldly. “You have lipstick on your face.”   

   Robin cleared her throat loudly, as half-formed excuses tumbled out of Franky’s mouth.

   “The running?” Robin prompted again.

   Sanji pouted. “Usopp was scared, or whatever…”

   “We were running for our lives!” Usopp insisted. “Which, by the way, how did you two have time to–“ he frowned. “Never mind.”

   “Usopp thought there was a ghost,” Sanji clarified dismissively.

   It didn’t matter anymore, since they were apparently out of the ghost’s… range.

   No, not ghost, dammit, the person or more likely, the small animal they heard.

   “There was a ghost and it totally would’ve possessed us,” the sniper said seriously.

   Robin frowned. “You got to experience the haunted forest? Franky and I just had a nice walk.”

   “Yeah, I bet it was really nice,” Usopp muttered, eyeing her and then Franky reproachfully.

   “It’s getting late, bros, lets head back to the Sunny,” Franky said, turning and walking away before any of them could respond.

   Sanji stuffed his hands into his pockets, trudging on behind them.

   How unfair was it that those two got to have a lovely romantic walk and he had a stupid-ghost-encounter-walk with Usopp.

   What shitty luck he had!

   Sanji scowled.

   And he didn’t even have anything to show for it, nothing to share with Robin other than some ‘scary noises’ and ‘a general feeling of unease’.

   Which was to say, he was being a pussy about a hike.

   He was brought out of his thoughts by Robin’s lovely voice.

   “If we get back quickly, we may still be able to see the fireworks,” she mused. “The crow’s nest should be a good place to watch.”

   Franky agreed, enthusiastic as ever, and Usopp did the same after a moment.

   …fireworks wouldn’t be half bad, he thought.

   He did have some half-decent company tonight, anyway.

   Maybe, if they were quick, like Robin said, he’d have enough time to warm up some hot chocolate? It was getting chillier and chillier tonight…

   He could do that.

   Sanji nodded to himself absently.

   The others would probably be back to the ship shortly after the fireworks show anyway, so it would be good to have drinks prepared.

   He could whip up some snacks, too, maybe…

   He had pancake batter left over from breakfast, which wouldn’t be a bad past-midnight snack.

   Luffy would be satisfied with that, at least, especially if Sanji banked on the fact he’d already eaten at the festival.

   Oh! And he could give Nami and Robin the few leftover cookies he still had. That way they’d have something to go with their hot chocolate, since they deserved it.

   Sanji continued walking, still deep in thought trying to mentally take stock of his pantry.

   Which, speaking of, he’d probably need to do some more restocking in the morning.

   He let out a slow breath, smiling to himself. 

   That was fine.

   A tomorrow problem, anyway.

   For now, he had fireworks to watch.

[freackthejester]

A new tiny library opened up right across the street from me, and someone is keeping it stocked with zines about like vegan picnics and women's bicycle racing and reprint collections of 90s zines about car camping/"dwelling portably". I do love it. It's so very Eugene. I visit every day I leave and I've been adding books from my collection (a lot of tiny library books tbh) to it and watching them disappear. I hope other people start adding to it.

[eretzyisrael]

WORDS OF THE PROPHET

In parsha Balak, the Moabite King Balak becomes concerned that the Israelites are too numerous and will defeat Moab like they defeated the Amorites. (Num. 22:3) Balak hires Balaam, a non-Jewish prophet, to curse the Jewish people. God speaks to Balaam and says, “You must not curse that people, for they are blessed.” (Num. 22:12) Balaam explains to Balak that despite the massive reward offered for proclaiming curses on the king’s perceived enemies, the prophet can only say what God wants him to say. 

Used to getting his way, Balak insists that Balaam curse the Jews and takes the prophet to the top of a mountain overlooking the Israelite settlement. Balaam tries three times, from three different vantage points, to pronounce curses on the Jews, but each time he showers them with blessings instead! Although Balaam himself despises the Jews, his blessings, channeled directly from God, have become some of the most treasured lines in Jewish liturgy. One of Balaam’s most famous blessings is said when a Jew enters synagogue: "How goodly are your tents, O Jacob, Your dwellings, O Israel!” 

Medieval commentator Rashi explains that Balaam, looking down from the mountaintop, is amazed by the unique way the Israelites set up their tents. Although arranged in an orderly format, no tent faces any other tent, giving each Jewish family privacy. Rashi posits another possible explanation for Balaam’s poetic reference to the Israelites’ goodly tents. He may be describing the Mishkan - the portable Temple where God’s presence dwells in the wilderness. In fact, both explanations are intertwined because a Jewish home is considered a mini-Temple. When we fill our living places with Torah and mitzvahs, with family harmony and holiday celebration, we bring God’s presence inside to create a home of holiness. 

Image: Balak’s Sacrifice and Balaam’s Prophecy by August Hirschvogel, 1548

[girlactionfigure]

SHABBAT ✡️ ALERT ✡️ INSTRUCTIONS for those in ISRAEL

via ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting the World to Israel in Realtime

(( Note Israel Realtime does not post updates on Shabbat (Israel time) unless life threatening / saving. ))

Chief Rabbinute instructions with details

🔅Erev Shabbat Parshat Parshat Pekudei -  Exodus 38:21 - 40:38, the portable temple is completed and all its components are brought to Moses, who erects it and anoints it. A cloud appears over the temple, signifying the Divine Presence that has come to dwell within it.

Shabbat Times here -> https://www.myzmanim.com/search.aspx

🔸NORTH - Risk MEDIUM-HIGH, particularly in Safed, Meron, Acre, Nahariya, Teveria, Afula, Golan.  Precautions required, know your shelter options at synagogue, school, work and home - even shopping.

🔸SOUTH - Risk LOW, occasion rockets from GAZA, almost exclusively near-Gaza villages, Sderot and Ashkelon. Know your shelter options in those areas.

🔸EILAT and NEGEV - Risk LOW, occasional attacks from Yemen. Keep an eye open on shelter options.

❗️This is a LIFE and DEATH WAR - due to Pikuach Nefesh you MUST have a way to receive alerts on Shabbat!  Here’s how…

SILENT CHANNELS - Radio & TV stations go “silent broadcast” for Shabbat, ONLY alerts.

No TV or Radio?  STREAM IT on phone or computer.

➡️ SILENT TV -  Channel 14 - stream https://www.now14.co.il/live/ (doesn’t work with adblocker)

➡️ SILENT RADIO - 

• Kol Chai radio - on radio 92.8, 93 and 102.5. - stream https://www.93fm.co.il/radio/players/%d7%a9%d7%99%d7%93%d7%95%d7%a8-%d7%97%d7%99/

• Kol Barama Radio - on radio 92.1, 104.3, 105.7 and 107.6. - stream https://kol-barama.co.il/live/

• Galei Israel - on radio 89.3, 94 and 106.5. - https://www.rlive.co.il/station/galey-israel

➡️ ON COMPUTER - leave a computer open to https://www.oref.org.il/en (only in Israel) - alerts will display and sound on the screen. Turn OFF screen saver, sleep and hibernate so the computer doesn’t turn off.

➡️ VIA APP - leave on phone with red alert app.  Set app to YOUR area so it only alerts for your area.  We suggest Tzofar Red Alert or Homefront Command - available in Play Store and App Store.  IF an alert goes off for your area CLICK THE PHONE TO VERIFY ALERT TYPE - to see if infiltration!   Yes, on Shabbat - this is Pikuach Nefesh!

⁉️ ENGLISH SILENT CHANNEL - is there a silent channel in English?  NO.  But you can use Pikud HaOref ON SCREEN in English, see “ON COMPUTER” option above.

It is a mitzvah to take actions to protect and save and preserve life on Shabbat, not a violation.  But ONLY actions which do so.

[baitalmaha]

Container houses in Dubai

There are new things around such as Dubai container houses that have quickly started to become a great option and solution for many as an innovative quick and cost effective and eco-friendly houses. The demand for sustainable architecture is on the rise in the city, space efficient solution to the growing problem of urban density.

These homes are made of recycled steel shipping containers, which are long-lasting and can be easily moved. Because they are so customizable, they can go from simple projects like a studio up to fancy multi-container villas. All it takes is ISO-Wall insulation (for the walls, floor and roof) and an air-conditioning system to make containers perfectly appropriate for Dubai's hot desert climate.

Affordability is one of the main reasons people go for container houses in Dubai. They are much cheaper to build and maintain than conventional villas or flats. They’re also faster to build — sometimes finished in a few weeks — saving time and money.

They are also perfect for eco-conscious residents. They minimize the amount of construction waste they produce, and many use solar panels, rainwater collection systems and energy-efficient appliances to lower their footprint. In a city like Dubai where green building practices are gaining ground, container houses fit with the UAE’s sustainability vision.

And another key benefit is mobility and flexibility. Since these dwellings are portable, container homes can be placed anywhere, making them the perfect solution for temporary housing, site offices, or even off-grid living. These days there are many companies that are offering turn-key container houses, Dubai residents can buy with sleek interiors, modern finishes, and smart home features.

From a small dream home to a boutique container hotel or a pop-up retail space, container houses in Dubai list a variety of design options and specialize in flexibility, enabling you to take your dream to the next level. They’re not merely a trend—they’re the future of smart urban living in the UAE

[haveihitanerve]

Well I asked and you all answered so here is your Sam and Bucky fic, as requested

Sam didn’t hate Bucky. Anymore. But the man certainly pushed his buttons, especially when he chose to rush in without backup or warning. “James I swear to God-“ Sam hissed as he caught up with the super soldier. “Shut up.” Bucky snapped back, quietly, quickly, his arm pressing Sam backwards into the wall behind him. Sam stayed silent, allowing Bucky's arm to keep him in place. “Safe?” He dared ask after a second. Bucky huffed a laugh, dropping his arm. “We’re infiltrating a Hydra base. Nothing about this is ‘safe’.” Sam sent him a look, well accustomed to Bucky's strange traumatic humor. “Hardy har har.” He muttered, peeking around the man, resting his chin on Bucky's shoulder. “Using me as a human shield are you?” Bucky drawled. “I’m not the one with a bullet proof arm.” Sam muttered. “No, you only have a whole suit.” Bucky countered, but there was rough amusement in his voice. “Let’s just get to the electrical room.” Sam muttered, slithering around Bucky to take the lead. The first few times he had let the Hydra trained soldier lead, but by this point Sam knew the layout of the hydra bases well enough that he could find the electrical room alone. Bucky trailed after him, almost relaxed, but not quite, a testament to how far he had come. Sam checked the hallway before crossing over to the room, popping open the door and letting Bucky in. They weren’t going to take down all the workers, that would take too much time and more people than just him and Bucky, though they made an impressive team. No, instead they were just gonna fuck with hydras electricity and files, and then blow up as much of the facility as they could. It was a simple plan, easy, one they could accomplish without too much hassle, time or resources. At least that’s how all other twenty of their missions had gone. “You’d think they’d learn.” Sam muttered to Bucky in quiet amusement as he stuck a S.H.I.E.L.D. Drive into the side of the nearest computer. “You would think.” Bucky agreed, taking his place at the large, old timey computers that they would use to aid the explosion. The door slammed shut. “Oh but, we did.” Purred a voice from above, then the lights shut off, the floor dropping out from under them.  

“Bucky?” Sam called into the darkness, fumbling around in his suit pockets to find the mini flashlight Tony had made for him. It was small and portable, but had the light of the sun. Sam switched it on, pointing the beam upwards to not blind his companion. The first thing Sam noticed was that the room was small, even tighter than the tony electrical room, with only barely enough space for him to stretch out his whole body if he needed, and not tall enough to stand up straight. “James! You good?” Bucky was curled against the wall, his back to Sam. “Buck?” A slight tremor was his only indication the man had heard him. Sam crawled closer, sitting next to him. “Buck!” Slowly, ever so slowly, Bucky pulled himself into a sitting position. His face was gaunt and haunted. “It’s a cell.” He managed hoarsely. “A cell? Oh shit Jay I’m sorry.” Sam scooted closer, pressing his thigh against the super soldiers. “Is it-?” Sam didn’t want to ask but he couldn’t not. Bucky shook his head. “No.” He rasped. “This is a cell for death row prisoners. I was never- they never locked me in here.” The words unspoken hung between them. The death row prisoners. How he was never locked in here but that he had come here. “I’m sorry.” Sam said quietly. Bucky shrugged. “It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine. “How do they-?” He couldn't bring himself to finish. Bucky shifted, but his leg stayed glued to Sam’s. “They knew we were coming. They’ve probably evacuated. It was a trap. Most likely poisonous gas or they’ll just leave us here until we die. Probably the second one.” He admitted grimly. Sam did not dwell on why. On how they both knew Sam would die first. And that Bucky would live at least a week longer. Having to deal with Sam’s dead body in the tight space, having to deal with not being dead himself, having to deal with what he would be willing to do to survive a little longer. Sam tugged out his phone. “We’ll, there’s no point in waiting.” He sighed, but frowned when his phone wouldn’t turn on. “Everything is blocked.” Bucky explained, explaining why he hadn’t even bothered to go for his. Sam muttered some not very nice words under his breath and pressed both volume buttons and counted to ten, before pressing it again and counting to five, and once more ten. “What are you doing?” Bucky asked in interest. “It’s a distress signal.” Sam explained. “This’ll send our location and SOS to tony.” Bucky snorted. “He won’t come.” Sam gave him a hard look. “Yes he will.” “I’m his parents' murderer, remember?” Bucky waved a hand at himself, as though Sam could forget. “I know. But Tony will come. He’s not willing to let us die over the past. Well, me at least.” Bucky snorted. “Well, I don’t believe it, but I hope he gets a chance to prove me wrong.” He leaned his head back against the stone, closing his eyes. “Me too.” Sam muttered. “Me too.” 

Tony took his time. Seven hours later, they were still in the cell, growing increasingly more bored, running out of topics of conversation that didn't cover their current predicament. Somehow, they had moved to where they were sitting with their backs to each other, staring at their respective walls, the flashlight illuminating the ceiling. Bucky’s shoulderblades were sharp, digging into his back aggressively but Sam wasn't going to be the one to move, to put some distance between them, he couldn't. He needed this contact, as uncomfortable as it was. “I hate this fucking place.” Bucky muttered, his voice cutting through the silence. Sam remained quiet, letting him speak. “Its not just because of what happened here. To me. To all th- to everyone who was here. The walls just… they just ooze control and claustrophobia and.. I hate it.” “if its any consolation I agree.” Sam leaned back a little harder, knocking his head against Bucky’s. He rasped a laugh, fingers finding Sams on the floor next to him, curling around them. “I’m glad..” Bucky cut off, then started again. “Out of everyone in the world who I could have been stuck down here with,” He took a deep breath. “I’m glad its you.” Sam felt something hard lodge itself in his throat. “Jeez buck. You’re really making this feel hopeless.” The joke won another laugh, but Sam turned his hand, linking their fingers together. “Thank you. That- it means a lot. I know this place brings back bad memories for you. And I’m sorry. But thanks.” Bucky squeezed his hand. “Its just the truth.” He whispered. Sam squeezed his hand back. “Well aren't you two cute.” intoned a voice and suddenly there was light above them and Tony fucking Starks smug ass face was smirking down at them. 

“Too soon.” Sam groaned, raising a hand to ward off the light. “Too fucking soon to almost have died to see your face Stark.” Tony laughed, offering him a hand out. Sam released Buckys and let himself be hoisted out of the hole. “Sorry.” He forced out quietly when he had Sam beside him. “I- it took longer than I liked to come.” Sam gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Its alright. You came. Thats all that matters.” Shadows were in the billionaires eyes, but he nodded. Sam let go of his hand and stepped away. Tony was leaning back down, offering his hand to Bucky. The super soldier was looking at him in surprise, but Tony’s hand didn't falter, an offer. Sam took a tiny step closer, cocking his head at Bucky to see if he needed a different hand. But Bucky reached forward and grasped Tony's hand, allowing himself to be pulled out. “Damn Manchurian Candidate, you could throw Wilson.” Tony grunted, straining a bit more as he lifted Bucky out than he had with Sam. Sam could see the tenseness of the mans neck, waiting to see if the tease would end with him being thrown, but Bucky gave a roughish little grin, glancing at Sam. “We should test that sometime.” He mused. Sam took a step back, giving him a warning look. Tony chuckled. Bucky frowned, turning in a slow circle. “Um, wasn't there a building here when we went in?” He looked to Sam for confirmation. Sam looked around as well, taking in his surroundings for the first time. Bucky was right. Where there had previously been the electrical room and the entire base of Hydra was now just…rubble. Tony smiled sheepishly, but Sam could see the darkness in his eyes. “There might have been.” He shrugged. “Now, its been seven hours. The helicarrier is stocked with food and liquids of all flavors.” Sam and Bucky allowed the change in conversation, following the genius to said stocked helicarrier. “I love having a billionaire friend.” Bucky mumbled. Tony's lips curved. “Glad to be coined that Barnes.” He drawled sarcastically. “Alright alright, enough. Lets eat something, drink something, and Tony fly this ridiculously expensive thing the fuck out of here.” Sam interrupted before they could swap any more sardonic quips. Bucky grinned, throwing an arm around Sams shoulders. “I agree.” Tony glanced at them, Sam leaning against Bucky, Bucky tucking Sam closer, and smiled faintly. “Alright boys. But you’ve got one helluva story to tell.” Sam laughed, resting his head against Buckys. “Food first Tony. Food first.”

[une-sanz-pluis]

This information indicates that in the aristocratic circles within which the duchess of Clarence lived her life there was a strong commitment to devotional piety and a tradition of patronage to artists whose works served pious ends and especially to monastic institutions which encouraged such piety. Regarding the latter, it is particularly important to note the duchess's close relation to the founders of Mount Grace and Sheen, two of the seven charterhouses founded in England between 1345 and 1415,and Syon — all three houses especially distinguished for the production and transmission of vernacular devotional writings. Against this background we may consider the evidence in the public record concerning the piety of the duchess. First, in the papal register for 1422, the year following the unhappy events at Beaugé, we find that Margaret was granted a plenary indulgence and given permission to have a portable altar, "to celebrate or cause to be celebrated, privately, Mass and other divine offices in places under interdict," to have Mass celebrated before daybreak, and to choose her own confessor. A series of entries in the papal register for 1428-29 define and legitimize a relationship between Margaret and the Bridgettine house at Syon. Margaret, now leading a celibate life, would have permission to dwell near Syon and to be visited at her invitation by the enclosed brethren who would hear her confession, grant her absolution and enjoin penance; administer sacraments and sacramentals; preach to her; and assist her in the making of her will. Moreover, she received permission to enter, with assent of the superiors, monasteries of enclosed nuns on six occasions during the years, though not to remain for a meal or to pass the night.

George R. Keiser, "Patronage and Piety in Fifteenth-Century England: Margaret, Duchess of Clarence, Symon Wynter and Beinecke MS 317", The Yale University Library Gazette, Vol. 60, No. 1/2 (1985)

[ohmysheetmetal]

A pin is most known for the point on its head. It's horn is very sturdy with cushioning around the base internally. If you encounter a Pin turn sideways while maintaining eye contact. Back away. Try not to face them as they may lunge and spear you. Despite this tendency they are mostly woods dwelling herbivores. A pin has a large territory that it usually shares with only one other Pin. Pins mate for life( barring a point break) and joust regularly to display dominance and bond. A den of a pin is usually filled with items the Pin couple find interesting. A pin may attempt to raid a campsite if a sufficiently shiny or portable thing is left in the open. Take note that you cannot overpower the pin. another note is that if a Pin's horn breaks they become distressed and become too depressed to live. Prosthetic points have been successfully installed in the past leading to an otherwise healthy life. Provided they do not break their horn again.

-🌿

I approve of all of this

[mentally-joyful-demobot]

[ Otto idly tapped his fingers together while he made his way over to Esmé’s garden. The soft grass beneath his wheel, the fluffy air whirring past him and the cooing of mourning doves were all a reminder of the springtime, but he couldn’t dwell on that for too long. They were here for a reason, after all. ]

YOU SAID YOU NEEDED HELP WITH SOMETHING COMPUTER RELATED, RIGHT?

@physically-robotic-medic

AYE, THAT WOULD BE RIGHT.

[ Esmé realized as if recent that without much access to technology, the prospect of software maintenance was very slim. Being someone who prided herself on self-sufficiency, she wanted to make sure she and Penny had a means to keep themselves safe from viruses and the like. ]

[ Despite this self-sufficiency, she wasn't great with computers. Not wanting to bug her other tech-savvy friends for various reasons, she trusted that Otto could help. ]

I FOUND THIS OLD THING, FIGURED IT WOULD BE OF USE HERE IN CASE THINGS WENT WRONG.

[ She went over to the reading area and picked up a clunky portable computer she found; it read similarly to a laptop, or at least as close to one as you could get in the 1970s. She'd found it tossed away somewhere and done what she could to get it to function. ]

I TRUST YOUR KNOWLEDGE OF THIS MORE THAN MY OWN. IT CAN AT LEAST SHUT ON, I KNOW THAT MUCH.

[summoner-of-arkas]

Gungeon Ask Meme: Object edition

Half Heart - Do you need a full reset or just some time resting when exhausted?

Heart - Any interesting medical stories, yours or someone else's?

Armor - Light and nimble or heavy and protected?

Old Crest - What moment in your life do you constantly come back to?

Key - What do you have on your keychain?

Blank - How often do you need time alone?

Ammo - What do you do when you're running low on energy?

Spread Ammo - Do you have a lot of responsibilities on your plate?

Hegemony Credit - If money was no object, what's the first thing you do?

Bronze Casing - Opinion on coins?

Silver Casing - Is it worth it to splurge every now and again?

Gold Casing - Anything you're saving up for?

Cell Key - Ever had lock related troubles?

Gnawed Key - Would you like a hidden room and where would it be?

Rat Key - Fight fairly or win no matter what?

Barrel - Do you have a temper?

Explosive Drum - What are your pet peeves?

Toxic Barrel - How bad does mess need to get before cleaning up?

Oil Barrel - Opinion on fire?

Water Barrel - Bath or Shower?

Wooden Table - Where do you commonly eat?

Stone Table - Where do you keep constantly used belongings?

Portable Table - Ever had the thought to flip a table?

Coffin - Top of your head, what's the difference between coffins and caskets?

Clutter - Do you have any decorations in your room?

Brazier - Weirdest way you ever cooked something?

Cursed Pot - Are you superstitious?

Oil Lamp - What's your plan in a blackout?

Minecart - Do you use brute force or find leverage to decrease exertion needed?

Green Gun Muncher - Know any strange food combos and do you like it?

Red Gun Muncher - A buffet or one well cooked meal?

Mirror - What do you do in front of the mirror?

Demon Face - Has something seemed scary at first glance but turned out not to be?

Chandelier - When is it better to get a professional instead of a Do-It-Yourself solution?

Sawblade - Do you actually measure twice before cutting?

Spikes - Did you ever choose to do something you knew would upset someone else?

Rolling Spikes - How easy is it to throw you off your groove?

Flame Vent - Favorite way to start a fire?

Flame Pipe - Do you feel safe when someone else said they used a DIY solution?

Rotating Fire - How inconvenient does something need to be to turn you away?

Trap Door - Have any stories about falling?

Boulders - Opinion on survival-crafting games like minecraft, terraria, don't starve, ect?

Turret - How good is your internal clock?

Minecart Turret - How long should you rest before moving on?

Crush - Is it satisfying to destroy things?

Fire Ring - Do you fall into patterns easily?

Brown Chest - Do you judge things at a glance?

Blue Cheat - When does uncommon become rare?

Green Chest - How much is a life changing amount of money?

Red Chest - What was your luckiest moment?

Black Chest - What's the rarest thing you own?

Fuse - Are you indecisive?

Synergy Chest - Do you dwell on what could've been?

Rainbow Chest - Has something seemed too good to be true but was true?

Glitched Chest - How much of a shake up breaks monotony?

Rat Chest - Has ironic karma ever happened to you or someone else?

Truth Chest - Do you need the answers to the big questions?

Revival Chest - What's your approach to trying something again?

Ammo Shrine - What's the worst way you've been ripped off?

Angel Shrine - Has your pride blinded you before?

Beholster Shrine - Do you prepare for niche situations?

Blank Shrine - Do you fall for the Sunk Cost Fallacy?

Blood Shrine - Have you hurt people for your own benefit?

Challenge Shrine - Do you look back on past events and feel accomplished?

Cleanse Shrine - How do you process your stress?

Companion Shrine - Do you have a best friend?

Dice Shrine - Any Question Goes. Roll the bones.

Glass Shrine - What's the weirdest spot you found something religious?

Hero Shrine - Can cycles truely be broken?

Junk Shrine - Is there a character you hold close to your heart? Why?

Peace Shrine - Do your emotions control you in the heat of the moment?

Y.V. Shrine - Do you miss the old days of internet culture?

[lanaevyssmoved]

The dwelling described below belongs to Geddeil, a standard illithid claiming membership in the Abysmal Creed. Geddeil is only 10 years past its ceremorphosis but already has good standing among other members of its Creed. Thus, its dwelling is only two levels above the axial plaza, and its balcony is quite wide.

Balcony Hanging 20 feet above the plaza is a large stone balcony jutting out from the spherical side wall. A narrow stair connects the balcony to one below it, and then to the plaza's floor. Above, below, and to either side of the balcony, windows, stairs, and ladders protrude from the stone wall, forming a two-dimensional community wrapped around the spherical plaza. Geddeil has placed a portable stone pool at the lip of the balcony, allowing the mind flayer to relax comfortably in its own domicile. For convenience, the balcony possesses a feeding-stock, but it is currently pushed against the far railing away from the steps.

Sitting Room This large chamber serves as the living, dining, and recreation rooms for Geddeil. It contains various throw pillows (filled with spongy, dry moss), artistic sculptures (best appreciated by tentacle touch), resonance stones (small crystals embedded with pleasant emotions; see Chapter 7: Illithid Technology for more information), several feeding-stocks (in case guests show up for dinner), and a large musical instrument, called a bonethriven. While in its dwelling, Geddeil works on a couple of different pet projects. Happily, its hobbies coincide with the stated aim of the Abysmal Creed. Geddeil also spends many hours a day composing discordant music on its instrument; this music unsettles and horrifies any humanoid creatures that listen to it. When not composing, Geddeil gives in to gluttony, eating far more than a single brain per month. Geddeil justifies this resource drain by claiming that it aids the mind flayer's own exploration of the effects of horror on thralls. Its obesity, combined with its sickening pallor and the accumulated debris of past meals caught in its clothing and upon its tentacles, has a certain demoralizing effect on nonillithids. So far, the Abysmal Creed con tinues to pay the extra expense associated with Geddeil's "experiments."

Bonethriven: A massive assembly of tubes carved of discarded thrall bones surrounding a resonating chamber. Illithids proficient in this instrument can produce a wide range of sounds by blowing through the mouthpiece while opening and closing the 12 different stops with both fingers and tentacles. A master thrivenist (a player of the bonethriven) can elicit sounds of such horrible intensity that humans and demihumans must check morale each round they hear the instrument played. Victims failing a single check suffer a -1 to ail die rolls while the "music" continues.

Thrall Quarters Every illithid has at least one personal thrall that rarely leaves its side. Personal thralls open doors, pick up items of interest to its master, clear paths along busy throughways, compliment their illithid owners on a regular basis, and generally accomplish menial tasks. In many cases, once an illithid finds a personal thrall that agrees with it, the mind flayer goes out of its way to avoid eating the thrall's brain in a bout of hunger or anger. Some thralls have lived out their entire lives as the personal servants of a single mind flayer. Personal thralls live in their masters' dwellings; their quarters provide for their basic needs and wants, containing moss mattresses, bundles of dried rations hanging low from the ceiling, and basins of drinking water. Geddeil's personal thrall, a grimlock male named Ogham, is also allowed to store a few changes of clothes in this chamber, as well as a few small trinkets (shiny rocks) and toys (very crude dolls) to keep him happy during his "off" hours.

Study This chamber resembles the office of an eccentric surface-dwelling sage. A clutter of cultural artifacts from various thrall races cover shelves, a desk, and even the floor. For example, an elven wall sconce hangs over a dwarven battlemask, bracketed on one side by a human-crafted decorative clay pot and on the other by a gnomish toolsuit. Geddeil has collected these items in order to make an honest attempt to understand their cultural significance. The creature feels that if it can truly understand the mindset of the various thrall races, it will be that much more successful in devising means of promoting cultural terror and fear. It's all in a day's work for Geddeil. Geddeil´s desk is a simple stone platform. Below it sit several sheaves of stiff blank parchment. A striator (a psionic pen used to imprint parchment with qualith; see Chapter 7: Illithid Technology) lies on the desk along with several sheets of qualith-imprinted parchment. The parchment pieces rest beneath a black, egg-shaped paperweight; the paperweight is actually a resonance stone imprinted with pure horror. Any creature touching the stone must make a saving throw vs. spell or suffer effects similar to a fear spell for 3d6 rounds. The written records beneath the "paperweight" have Geddeil's notes recorded upon them. These notes include such observations as "humans fear the dark," "dwarves fear deep water," "elves fear moral compromise,' and "halflings fear starvation."

Storage This locked chamber holds the fruit of some of Geddeil's past projects—not all of which were completely successful. Piled against the walls and upon a central stone table lie jumbles of odds and ends. These piles include stuffed grouse, dried limes, metal shavings in a steel chest, a bone horn that sounds with a weak and plaintive blast, a water pipe half filled with formic acid (4d10 points of damage if spilled or swallowed), candlelamps carved to resemble illithid heads (the light shines from the illithids' eyes and mouths), a dish of hard candy shaped like miniature human hands, a petrified human foot, and dozens of other items.

Sleep Chamber The fact that illithids require sleep is the best argument that currently exists for the supposition that illithids originated from a planet with periodic sunshine. Why else would illithids develop sleep patterns that so closely resemble the sleeping habits of surface-dwelling creatures? Geddeil's sleep chamber is a 10-foot-diameter mass of thick, damp, cushioning moss bounded by a small stonestep in the center of the room. Various small stands and shelves in the room contain odd knickknacks that appeal to Geddeil's sense of decor: ghastly shells collected from a nameless subterranean sea, humanoid tooth sculptures, a collection of silver bells, and an infra-painting. The painting shows (to those able to distinguish wave-lengths in the infrared) a landscape of foaming chaos through which a shard of floating earth is visible. At the base of the painting, a line of qualith reads, "Beyond the Pale: A Resonance Island." The painting is a memento of Geddeil's travels. An open archway in the chamber leads to Geddeil's walk-in closet. The closet contains several dozen robes, boots, gloves, and other illithid clothing accessories. Most of the clothing is imprinted with the raised sigil of Geddeil's Creed association. Hidden in the inner lining of a robe at the very back of the closet is a contraband wand of magic missiles (56 charges remaining) that Geddeil secretly keeps in disobedience of Abstemious' ordinance. Geddeil keeps the wand out of a secret fascination with magic, a fascination that the mind flayer has only just begun to explore.