#locks are for the unimaginative {queue}

[mosspatchwriter]

Word Prompt for Week of 04/23-29

Mishpocha: (Yiddish) the entire family network of relatives by blood or marriage (and sometimes close friends)

Style: 2nd person, present, slice of life

Word Count: 250

Artist Vibe: Septober

Life has a funny way of creating opportunities. Sometimes, it can be cruel, harsh even. Other times, it gives wonderous things beyond comprehension.

Your favorite song is playing on the car radio as your best friend sings along (badly and out of key, but you have never minded) and gently taps the steering wheel in time. A friend from the back seat -the newest addition to your little mishpocha- are joins the chorus. All three of you are laughing at the impromptu karaoke as you wend your way through the mountain road. What awaits you at the end of the journey isn't important. At least, it isn't as important as this moment.

Life is good.

And you deserve it. You don't think of the hardships you've gone through or the mundane life of responsibilities that waits for you to return. You let the content feeling seep into your bones, let it settle into your chest to warm you from the inside. You know that you will cherish this memory, even if life takes you away from these people. Even if it fades with time, it's precious. No. Priceless. Somehow, you know they will think back just as fondly years from now. Regardless of if you all part on good terms or not.

No sad thoughts about the ending of things, though. You stay present in the moment and sing even louder with the joy these friends have given you.

Life has a funny way of creating wonderous things to cherish.

[melinoelliones]

You had just watched Ellie lock lips with Dina from across the room, what to do now....

MINORS DNI/AGELESS BLOGS DNI/ANTI DC DNI/18+

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Warnings: Strap-On, rough sex, jealousy/toxic (kinda), cursing, drugs and alcohol, no prep!! Fem Reader

1.9k words

This is a little off character but BARE WITH ME, PLEASE IM A STAR I PROMISE! I’M A ELLIE LOVER!! MAJOR ELLIE LOVER!!!!!

“No way? There���s no fucking way?” you growled, watching the girl you were semi-dating kiss Dina. What was even going on here? One second you were on a couch smoking with a friend, the next you were face to face with the unimaginable.

Tonight was the night of the big party at the base, you were all very much under the influence but the vibes were perfect, until just then that is. You both had even come to the party together, Ellie had only got up to grab you a drink, now she was kissing her friend in front of your eyes. 

“I’m surprised she’d do that to you honestly, I wouldn’t let that slide” your friend chimed in, a hidden grin on her face as she picked back up her drink, her eyebrows high almost coaxing you to “do something about it”. What could you do, you guys weren’t even a proper couple. 

As you questioned yourself as to if you should leave, Jesse strolled past, taking a seat in Ellies original spot which had probably gone cold due to how long she was with Dina at the kitchen island. 

“What’s up? You seem a little low, did the weed hit ya or did you see that scene in the kitchen?” he chuckled awkwardly, nudging you softly, “oh so you saw that– guess we are both in the same boat then”, you exhaled, shifting your weight onto him, hand resting on his thigh unintentionally.

“Guess so, I’m not even sure how to react right now, didn’t expect that at all considering what me and Dina were just upstairs doi~ err I mean since we’re together”, “yh THAT’S what you meant to say” you rolled your eyes jokingly, leaning closer into Jesse as you sighed. 

“Yeah…. Well I think this is my queue to leave”, before you could even turn to your friend who had just abruptly gotten up, you and Jesse both slipped back, him now towering over you on the coach as your back hit the arm.

“Ah fuck, sorry I was leaning on her with my full body weight” you spluttered, face heating up from the embarrassment, he was so close to you, his face merely a few inches from yours, “aha no you’re good, I got no balance myself” he admitted, his eyes scanning every inch of yours. Maybe it was because you were both under the influence but it felt like the entire interaction lasted minutes whereas in reality it was a few seconds, even as these thoughts ran through your brain you were both still in the same position.

“I erm, sorry let me help you”, “t~thanks Jesse ” you replied, his arm pulling you up by your waist. Just as you were about to let him move his hand you felt a fiery presence, and it didn't take a scientist to figure out exactly who it was.

Glancing up, you could see Ellie, cup in hand accompanied by a scowl like thunder planted on her face, “What are you doing?”. “It’s not what it looks li~” “No one was talking to you Jesse ” she sneered, eyes never leaving yours. “Are you for real right now?”, a smile of utter shock emerging on your face as you scoffed, “this isn’t funny, at all really.”

Was she really getting mad right now as if she wasn’t tongue deep in her friend's mouth like 5 minutes ago? You hadn’t even done anything, yeah maybe you shouldn’t have been so up close with Jesse but at least you didn’t kiss this guy, and the position you were both in was a total accident anyway. 

Jesse silently yet stiffly shuffled away as you continued to have what almost felt like a staring contest with the girl, her anger rising every second but you refused to back down. “We are leaving…. now”, she demanded, grabbing your arm to make sure you followed behind.

As mad as she was, you could feel how soft her touch was with you however the urgency was still there. You followed in silence as you both left the party and headed towards her house, you could almost hear her muttering to herself as you reached her door.

Strolling through with absolutely to care in the world she slammed the door behind you, her cold stare almost piercing through your back. “So that’s how it is huh, I leave for 5 minutes and you go about getting all cozy with Jesse?”.

What was she talking about? He was just holding your waist, she was kissing a whole other woman. Your mind couldn’t even really comprehend what was going on due to your anger and the drugs. 

“So now I can’t be close to boy friends?”, “What is up with you tonight, we were fine when we got there” she asked, still facing your back as you refused to face her. “What’s up with ME? You kissed a whole woman in front of my face, am I supposed to sit there and be chill about it?”, you spat, taking a few steps towards her bed. 

“What are you talki~ OH you saw that? Is that really why you’re acting this way? Grow up”

“The fuck you mean, grow up? Who do you think you’re talking t~”, Ellie cut you off as you tried to finish your sentence, pushing you back harshly onto the bed.

“Are you jealous? Maybe even upset that Dina got the first kiss of the night perhaps?” Ellie snickered, her body hovering above, her face barely centimetres from yours. You had to admit, being under her always had an effect on you, even while pissed off she was hot.

“Far from it, but it seemed like you looked a little jealous when Jesse was sitting with me, his arm around my waist while our bodi~”, you teased before Ellie cut you off, her cold lips catching you by surprise as you attempted to follow her rough rhythm.

You watched as Ellie broke the kiss angrily whilst attempting to catch your own breath, the taste of the alcohol she drank lingering in your mouth, “God you’re so annoying when you try to piss me off, but fuck you look so good doing it” she groaned, sauntering over to her drawers, rummaging through them with no rhyme or reason. 

Just as you attempted to get up you were met with her face once again, this time a harsher expression spread across her face. “Is this what you wanted huh? First you dress all skimpy to our friend's party, then you get all up close with a guy you don’t even like. It’s almost like you set out to make me jealous from the start” Ellie spat, the venom of her words just rolling off the tongue as she unbuckled her jeans, your body almost tingling from the narcotics.

“But if you really wanna know I had hoped you wouldn’t see that. Dina was super drunk, I was helping her sober up and when I went to grab you a drink she kissed me. I’m going to assume you immediately stopped watching though as you missed the part where I pushed her away and cussed her out”.

She’s not wrong, you had stopped looking after you saw the kiss, that girl's tongue in her mouth was enough to make you want to hurl, but wow you now felt silly. She scoffed, her eyes never even bothering to meet yours, as she began to attach one of the largest straps she owned to the already tightened harness she had been wearing the whole night under her jeans. 

“Oh, I apologise, I didn’t even realise”, you sympathised, attempting to get up before Ellie pulled your legs to her waist, your skirt landing on your stomach putting your lower half on show, your soaked underwear earning a slight groan from her. “Nuh uh, where do you think you’re going?”.

“I may forgive you but I’ll still give you what you deserve” the girl groaned, running her calloused hands against your side “and what do I deserv~ ah fuck Ellie” you hissed, your body jolsting backwards as pushed past your underwear and into your sopping core, the strap disappearing completely inside of you. 

“Atta girl, you got it, so fucking wet for me already” She grinned, letting your walls adjust to the size, all your words slowly coming back to you. “P~Please Ell”, “Please what baby? Use your words” Ellie purred leaving a trail of small kisses along your neck, your needy body twitching with every one. “Please f~fuck me” you answered as she pulled up one of your thighs to open you up.

“That’s what I like to hear, of course I will” the girl smirked, crashing her lips back into yours as she rode her hips into yours, allowing the crown to kiss your sweet spot with precision, she didn’t want you to lose yourself too fast. With every thrust she swallowed down your sweet moans and curses, every stride feeling like pure heaven due to the drugs effects, her free hand caressing your cheek.

“F~Feels so good” you choked out, the strap filling every inch of you, “I know baby, it's a-almost like I can feel you clenching around this thing” she grunted, her strides losing momentum ever so slightly as the fabric from the harness grinded against her needy clit.

Nothing but pants and moans filled the air, both of you feeding off of the anger and jealousy that was radiating off of one another. “Ellie, I~I’m so close, please” you sobbed, the coil in your stomach as tight as could be, “already?” she laughed, your furrowed eyebrows telling her everything she needed to know.

“C’mon then, cum for me baby” she cooed, eyes focused on you as she rutted into you with full force. Her momentum slowing down as you grabbed her closer, lapping your lips across one anothers whilst you pulled her waist into you with your legs around her waist taking the entire strap, “you want me that bad” she joked biting your lip resulting in another moan from you whilst you came.

Your hips rocked back and forth as your walls tightened around the strap riding out your orgasm, the burn in your stomach cooling down as Ellie groaned, reaching her own high as the rigid harness straps tightened allowing her swollen clit to continue rubbing against it harshly.

“F~Fuck babe, if you keep doing that I won’t be able to keep standing” the girl jested, her legs trembling as you untied yours from her waist, your body breathless whilst she slowly pulled out making sure to take in the sight of her now white coated strap. 

“Wanna clean it off for me?” she hinted, sitting you up and lowering the dripping cock to your lips as you stuck your tongue out with a nod. “Good girl, just like that” Ellie whispered, a smug look on her face as she watched your tongue lap the length of it, cleaning it off just as she wanted before letting it drop to the floor. 

“Now c’mere baby” the girl smiled, pulling you into another kiss, the taste of you in her mouth returning her on ever so slightly. The night may be in full swing but it was just the beginning for you both, after all the drama all Ellie wanted was you to herself, and she had full intentions of showing you exactly that.

[holyathome]

The Grass IS always Greener…

Musings & Lessons from an Emerald Isle Broom Tree Time #2

…in Ireland. There is no denying it. One glimpse through the window, even before the plane wheels hit the tarmac of the Emerald Isle, I knew…it was no lore that the grass was ALWAYS greener in this land of shamrocks, leprechauns, and rainbows with pots of gold, as I envisioned the brown crunchy sticks protruding from the rain-foresaken, sun-baked Lexington earth I’d departed.

On my last day in the cozy, quaint area where I was staying in southern Ireland, I found myself hiking trails, strolling gardens, even wandering along a fairy path through the woods. My feet traipsed 16 mi of the Irish countryside in brisk fashion (partially to keep the blood pumping to stay warm - it was a tad chilly, even in the sun!). The sights between Blarney and Ballincollig upon which I feasted my eyes would have had Bob Ross going nuts trying to paint so many happy trees in a plethora of green hues. But, the reality of it all - it was a lush land of natural beauty, designed by the Master Creator, that no brush on canvas could truly capture. And that is the “Aha-Moment” where I found myself.

Entering the Blarney Castle grounds I was truly in awe of just how gorgeous the color green really is (I’m 100% sure my Nana is smiling in heaven to hear me make this statement). I mean, everyone knows I’m partial to pink…as my dad said prior to my Irish escape, “she’s OK with any of the color options, as long as it is pink.” He’s right. But today, I have a new appreciation for green. 

The grass, the trees, the moss, the ferns, the ivy, (and the shamrocks, too) offered the brightest shades. Upon arrival at the castle, I photographed it, posed for a fellow tourist to get a snap of me, and was in awe with those around me that something like this could be built in the 1400s. After ducking low to hunker through the “badger cave”, I made my way around to the back of the castle where I was met with a choice: stand in the winding queue of guests seeking to kiss a rock and get a view from the top OR continue to venture through my natural surroundings stretching the legs that would be confined to a 3x3 space in coach for 12 hours the next day. 

MY CHOICE - the latter. Sometimes, I’m a sucker for a tourist trap. But, this time not so much. I mean honestly the thoughts of connecting my lips with a piece of rock that a billion other lips have salvivated upon (and per warnings from my new Irish friends…other unmentionable acts) leaves me thinking that I have a far better chance of getting hygolicka flip than the promised “gift of gab”. Besides…some would say, I already have that…and I don’t need to engage in a lip-lock with a rock in order to live into the relationship building chats, I mentioned in my last post.

THE VERDICT - I made a great choice. While 80% of the rest of the visitors stood still in a line ready to ascend a treacherous flight of stairs…my legs were on the move in a practically solitude land. The river gurgled, the leaves rustled, the cows stared at me, the lake glistened as the sun shone, the cattails waved, and the grass was shining like a field of neon glowsticks. As I rounded the lake loop, I found my self in communion with my Creator, not a dead rock, but the fully alive King of the Universe. The God Who gave this emerald land its color from a palette unimaginable to us. The God Who designed such beauty, yet also meticulously designed every intricate detail of my being from my curly top, to my personality tinged with a touch of child-like playfulness, and even my usual preference of pink to green! Thinking back on my last musings, I was grateful I’d chosen to skip the blarney stone and spend time in relationship with Jesus. I prayed…I listened…I praised…I gave thanks…I stood in awe. This day of adventure with Jesus was the perfect conclusion to my hop across the pond for a few days. Can’t say I left with the luck of the Irish, but I did leave with a blessing. 

So, for the record…the grass IS always greener in Ireland (and with Jesus)! 

The Green Green Grass of Ireland.

#holyathome #chefsprinklesatrest #BroomTreeTime

[luthienebonyx]

I wish you would write The Scarlet Pimpernel AU for Brienne and Jaime where Brienne is the hero and Jaime is her foppish husband. Sorry if this is a bit unimaginative, but you're my favorite writer for historical AUs.

This got a little bit out of hand...

~

The grand ball given by Lady Olenna Tyrell at the beginning of the summer was the most brilliant function of the year and the crowning glory of the social season. Everyone who was anyone contrived to be there, along with some small number of people who were not yet anyone, but who aspired to join those exalted ranks and had managed to obtain one of the coveted invitations. Her grace Queen Lyanna herself had honoured the gathering with her presence, and by the time the great, tall-case clock in the hallway had struck ten o'clock, the ballroom was fairly heaving with, well, everyone.

The ladies were resplendent in rich silks and brocades, set off by glittering parures of diamonds, sapphires or rubies, and the gentlemen who accompanied them in their colourful court suits of satin and velvet, embellished with intricate embroidery, were hardly less eye-catching. The Queen wore a sack-back gown of gold brocade patterned in black, the many pleats behind cascading into a long train, while the stomacher at the front was lavishly embellished with knots of black ribbon and thread of gold before giving way to quite the widest panniered skirt even those present had ever laid eyes upon. But even such regal magnificence did not cast into the shade the tall, elegant gentleman at her side. He was exquisitely dressed in a suit cut in the incroyable style, striped in shimmering cream and gold satin, with foams of Volantene lace at his neck and wrists, his golden hair unpowdered and pulled back from his handsome face in a simple queue.

He was, of course, Ser Jaime Lannister, the most recent favourite of the court and one of the leaders of society. His was a venerable old west country family, once mighty and powerful, but the Lannisters had fallen from grace some generations ago now, and Ser Jaime had succeeded at an early age to the baronetcy and the modest manor house that went with it, which were all that remained of what had once been many great hereditary titles, lands and riches. He had come to court as a very young man, and some little time later had been persuaded by his uncle into quitting Westeros, in some haste, for Essos during the great upheaval that had resulted in the present King taking the throne. That had been almost seventeen years ago.

Upon arriving in the eastern continent, he had first joined up with the famous Golden Company of Westerosi sellswords - or exiles, as they preferred to call themselves - and had lived by the sword for some years. However, the sharpness of his wits - and, some said, of his tongue - was soon reputed to be greater even than that of the keen-bladed weapon that hung at his hip, and eventually he sold out and found a place for himself at the court of the Prince of Pentos.

He had had no intention of returning to the land of his birth, even though he was by then separated from it only by the Narrow Sea.

"You have still not told me what it was that brought you back across the sea to us, Ser Jaime," the Queen said now, giving him an arch look as she tapped his gloved hand lightly with her ivory-brisé fan.

"Have I not, your grace? How remiss of me." Ser Jaime's voice was languid, and the glance he cast about the room then, before returning his attention to her grace, was faintly bored.

"The need to escape Pentos ahead of the Dictator's armies, surely, was what drove you back to Westeros, was it not, Ser Jaime? You are so very good at escaping in the nick of time, as I recall," said the Queen's brother, Lord Stark, who stood on her other side. Unlike all of the other gentlemen in the room, he was soberly attired in hues of black and dark grey, and stood out like a lone raven amongst a flock of gaudy parrots.

Ser Jaime's perfectly formed lips thinned a little at this, but he gave no other outward sign that the barb had found its mark. "It is perhaps a pity that I did not remain in Pentos at least a little while longer, Lord Stark, and then the mysterious and daring hero of the resistance himself, the one named after that innocuous little flower, might have rescued me."

"So that you could have unmasked him and been the one to put an end to the endless speculation as to his true identity?" Lord Stark suggested.

"An end to the endless speculation," Ser Jaime murmured, with only the very slightest of smiles. "I think not. For then what would the ladies of the court do with their time, if they could not adore the idea of him from afar? The reality of a living man, with all his flaws, might prove to be a sad let-down when compared to the hero of their romantic imaginings."

"You sound as if you are speaking from experience, Jaime," said a new voice. It belonged to a lady who had approached quietly despite the commanding presence afforded to her by her great height. She was taller than either Ser Jaime or Lord Stark, and dressed even more simply than the latter, in a round gown of straw-coloured silk almost completely bare of embroidery or other embellishment. Unlike the other ladies present, she had neither added extra volume to her hair with copious extensions nor dressed it with hair powder, feathers or ribbons. Her short locks were almost the colour of her dress and, like her dress, plain and unadorned.

Read the rest at AO3

[spiltscribbles]

Notes: One Reblog is worth a thousand stars <3.-

The grandiose brownstone on the upper west side is filled to the brim with guests that Ronan barely recognizes, platters of foods he doesn’t remember ordering, and rounds of drinks he thanks God, Jesus and the Holy Ghost above  that never seem to run out. 

“Lynch, old boy,” a faintly familiar, boyishly attractive brunette calls from where he’s standing with three other nondescript fucks  that Ronan eventually realizes are all from his old preparatory days at Aglionby. 

“Wentworth,” Ronan greets with as much welcome as he can muster— a negative four point two on the Gansey scale of charm, but hey, what’s a guy to do.  “I presume you’re enjoying yourself?” 

“Thoroughly,” he assures with a coquettish little wink that Ronan completely ignores. 

“Let me know if that ever changes,” he directs the question to the group as a whole so that Wentworth doesn’t get any bright ideas. 

“How’s Declan?” The shortest one asks, all plastered smiles and heaps of blonde hair.

“He’s enjoying DC, says that Matthew is getting on with all his courses.”

“Smart of him to get out of Henrietta,” another of the foursome interjects with a swig of his iced white. “With Greywaren here and all the trouble he’s stirring up.”

“Come now,” Wentworth chides with a dismissing wave of the hand. “Greywaren is who’s keeping us safe from the trouble and all these awful villains. “Wouldn’t you agree Lynch?” 

Ronan feels the slightest uptick to his pulse, but doesn’t let anything show, just gives a placid smile and  blasé shrug to his shoulder.

“I make it a point not to mingle with politics.”

“Smart chap,” the third one smirks. “Couldn’t tell you how many times the boys on the board told me to keep my trap shut on it.”

Queue round of polite chuckles that Ronan doesn’t partake in.

“You know what isn’t controversial? A donation to the arts.” Ronan tells him.

“A wily one too,” Wentworth laughs. “Well you’ve convinced us Lynch, we’d be happy to help whatever inner city project or museum renovation you’ve got going on.”

“I’ll send Blue over to take the checks,” he tips his glass to them before continuing  on strolling through the throng of blank faces, exchanging pleasantries and volleying nods of recognition as if it’s an olympic sport. 

Ronan hates every fucking minute of it.

“Poor sour patch,” Blue, five foot nothing and unappreciative of any sort of bullshit, mock croons at him once he finally reaches the foursome, clucking her tongue all the while.

Ronan bares his teeth at her, swats away the hand she’s using to pinch his cheek  with a hiss of, “Hop off.”

Blue only laughs ebulliently.

“I fucking hate you.”

“No way to speak to your guests,” Henry toots on Blue’s behalf. “After all, you were just elected Henrietta’s most eligible bachelor, wouldn’t wanna ruin that image with your surly attitude.”

“What would you know Cheng? I sure as fuck don’t remember your name on the list.”

With a role of the eyes, Henry just shoos him away. “Never any bite, I swear.”

“He strolls off to take a call on his pretentious bluetooth, while Noah passes Ronan a fresh flute of the Prosecco.

“You don’t have to keep up the charade you know,” Gansey tells him, popping an appetizer with to many vowels and too little alcohol for Ronan to ever really bother remembering the name of into his mouth. “It’s not as if, ahem. People would ever be made privy to your particular gifts.”

He means the gifts Ronan had inherited from Niall, the ability to dream things and even people and occasionally places into existence. He means the fact that despite the way Ronan dawns a costume with a raven on the chest, he’s in all actuality a dreamer. He dreams his weapons, his vehicles, his everything to use against the bad guys and vigilantes that roam the streets of Henrietta, their city, their home. And some of the things he dreams Declan takes it upon himself to study, to replicate, to cell for the endless fortunes the Lynch name has always been known for. The millions upon millions that Ronan grew up unaware to how his father, a scoundrel and drunk most days, and absent the rest of them, had ever been able to earn. 

No, but Ronan still loves him, adores the memory and the man. Niall gave everything to Ronan and he’s going to respect everything Niall planned out, everything he wrote in his will.

“It’s what my father would’ve wanted, complete secrecy,” says Ronan, doubtless.

“Even with the solitude,” asks Gansey, cutting to the heart of his worries with none of his usual attentiveness. Finally tired of beating around the bush like the Gansey way dictates. 

Ronan’s about to snarl something back that he’s not proud of, something nasty and vicious and unnecessarily cruel. Maybe about Gansey’s pretentious upbringing, probably something about his tireless efforts to find out what’s caused this explosion of superheroes and super villains in the last half century, definitely  also about his piece of shit haircut that makes him look like a douchebag congressman. But Blue must sense it because she interrupts him before Ronan could even part his lips.

“All we’re saying is that we know you’ve got your priorities, but you deserve someone to come home too.”

“It’s so cute that you care,” Ronan snorts, doesn’t mention how this place isn’t home, that it can never stack up to The Barns.

Ronan doesn’t want to build a life here.

“I only care because  every group needs the weirdly brooding, emo friend,” Blue says causticly.

Ronan cuffs her on the back of the head and she kicks him in turn.

“Hey tall, dark, and handsome,” Henry calls, abruptly returning with a slight franticness to his gaze. “No time for the juvenile squabbling, there’s a robbery on Appleton and they’re in dyer need of a certain masked hero.”

.-

Ronan remembers the sun kissed skies and tumbling grasslands that painted the landscape of The Barns, his childhood manner, his oasis away from the bustling folks and raucous traffic of the city that the Lynch’s spent a majority of their year trapped within. He remembers the iridescent rosebuds that scattered the front yard  and the strawberry fields he’d run through, frolicking with a giggling Matthew and occasionally a surly Declan if Ronan had nudged him outdoors by stealing one of his books or hats or whatever proper, grown up thing he was insistent on mastering for that week.

Most of all, he remembers the way Niall would card an indulgent hand through Ronan’s dark mop of locks while they tread around the trails as he divulged to his middle son all the magical wonders and whimsical secrets of this world,  a doting smile on his face while regaling to Ronan stories about brave Irish warriors and lands unexplored, and things unimagined. A dreamer father showing his dreamer child— his favorite child— all the possibilities in his grasp.

“There’s nothing outside your reach Ronan my boy,” Niall, dark haired and sharp jawed and everything Ronan idealized, had boomed in his deep baritone. “You could do anything as long as you can imagine it, dream it. Omnium rum principia parva sunt.”

“The beginnings of all things are small,” Ronan, pint sized and open faced and infallibly kind hearted, had beamed up to his father, pleased that the Latin courses Niall had insisted upon were sticking. 

“Oy, attaboy,” Niall had crowed, swinging on his shoulder a laughing Ronan, a Ronan who believed in the untarnished truth of his father’s words.

But then Ronan hit sixteen, and Niall was murdered  and  the Barns were sanctioned from anyone visiting and everything had fallen apart in a matter of days.

.-

The BMW hums beneath his grasp as Ronan sores through the streets of Henrietta, blanketed in darkness and buzzing with danger.

“It’s at the Sheffield’s lake house,” Gansey patches in through the minuscule communication device Henry had created for them to use. “They’re big supporters of mothers campaign.”

“Oh how darling,” Ronan says in a deadpan. “We should invite them over for high tea, less we look gauche.”

“I’ll ignore the sarcasm due to this being a stressful situation and all,” Gansey harrumphs from the other end. “Noah will be there taking pictures for the paper and Henry’s sending over the address right now. Stay safe.”

“always am.”

“Now we both know that isn’t true.”

.-

Ronan screeches to a stop in front of one of the more posh houses the city has to offer— all high gates and wide partitions and a fountain of a baby angel spitting out water while balancing on one foot— greeted by a middle aged woman in pink chiffon raving to a fearful looking officer about hooligans and dirty thugs and irreplaceable diamonds handed down to her through generations. Though Ronan   doesn’t bother to stop and listen to her sulking once he catches the barest trace of a yellow cape slinking into the shadows out of sight.

He pounces.  

“Fifteen minutes and twenty-three seconds,” the dude in a yellow cape tsks (all the while sporting the world’s most infuriating half grin that Ronan can’t help but appreciate if only for the esthetic) once Ronan finally catches up to him on the edge of the woods skirting against the water. He’s smaller than Ronan, but not by much, and agile as all get out if those amateur parkour stunts weren’t just an illusion. “getting rusty are we? It’s been a while since Henrietta’s seen anything more than a chump vigilante I suppose?”

His voice is low but has got this almost musical cadence to it. Ronan would’ve sworn he was a local if the subtle drawl was anything to go by.

“And who, pray tell, the fuck are you,” Ronan snarls out, stepping closer with his most menacing glower. 

The guy in yellow and red just snorts, unimpressed, while he leaps backwards onto a tree branch… But no, it’s like the tree branch was waiting for him. No not even that, like it reached out for him to hop on, like he was the sun and the tree was responding to his very presence. 

“Unimportant, but I know who you are Greywaren.”

“NO fuck, everyone knows me,” Ronan spits.

“Not the real you,” he counters. “But that’s why I’m here.”

Ronan is over the small talk, even if the guy’s got an admittedly attractive voice, he taps on the heels of the shoes he had dreamt and begins to shoot upwards, but the  messed up thing is that the guy seems to have been expecting it, and with just a flick of the wrist another branch swings out and smacks Ronan down like a pesky fly.

“What. The. Fuck.” Ronan manages out with labored breaths as he stands back up.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a real let down Mr Greywaren, because you sure are,” Yellow Cape says with a faux yawn, stretching out to his full six feet while still standing on the branch. He looks like the fucking Fairy Folk in the storybooks Matthew had once insisted Ronan read to him before bed. “Well I’d love to stay and chat but I better get out of your hair and get some bank for my buck.”

“I’ll show you where to shove your buck.”

“Scandalous,” yellow cape sniffs, bored sounding. “ oh and before I forget, Greenmantle sends their hellos.”

In an instance everything freezes.

That word.

Greenmantle.

Flashes of blood and darkness and Niall’s too pale face accented by a wretched slash to his forehead.

The name carved in blood.

Greenmantle.

Ronan’s veins turn to ice and his chest contracts, and by the time he comes to yellow cape is already gone and Ronan is awash with the sorts of memories he ordinarily  keeps securely locked away.

.-

“Greenmantle, are you sure he said that precise name?” Henry asks for the umpteenth time since Ronan came back empty handed and with a major life revelation  the night of the Sheffield robbery. 

“Yes Cheng,” Ronan seethes, tugs on the tie that feels like it’s choking him.

“You look insane,” Blue toots, goes on her tiptoes to adjust it once more. “Now let’s  just take deep breaths, being in public and all.”

Ronan still isn’t sure just how Gansey had convinced them all to attend the Tribune’s annual fundraiser, only remembering  a lot of “getting on the insides” and “copious amounts of alcohol,s” thrown around, and a couple, “you get to tease uppity know it alls who trash the Greywaren for a living,” sprinkled on top just for good measure.

But still, Ronan hates it.

“So he’s back then, finishing off what he started.” Noah surmises.

“Did we ever truly know what exactly he wanted? Erm, aside from the Lynch family’s demise.”

Ronan glares and Henry just winces, apologetic.

“Noah you think you can get anymore intel on Greenmantle possibly leaving Boston? That was last where we tracked him, right?” Blue asks, head cocked. 

“I’m on it,” Noah says while literally pulling out his phone and wandering off to a discrete corner to do whatever it is that he does that gets invasively detailed reports on literally anyone with a social security number.

“Let’s cut the conversation there, Gansey’s coming with that delicious looking friend of his,” Henry warns, causing Blue and Ronan to turn around at the same time to catch on a beaming Gansey promenading towards them with decidedly less sunny company. Company with sea glass eyes and effortlessly ruffled hair that falls unevenly on the left side of his forehead and cheekbones that can literally cut timber.

“Ronan, you’re gonna catch flies,” blue goads, shit eating grin on her face and something like amusement etched into Gansey’s own all the way across the aisle, as if he knows exactly what she had said. Leave it to those freaks to create the world’s first telepathic connection out of the power of their gross as love. 

“You’re fired from both my friendship and your job,” Is all Ronan tells her, tries to look distracted by anyone that isn’t the literal incarnation of Prince Philip walking ever nearer… Erm shut the fuck up, Ronan only knows that certain prince because of Matthew when he went through his Disney phase… And well, Arora really liked those sorts of cartoons when she was bringing up her boys.

Gansey dives down to kiss Blue just as soon as they came close enough, and Henry bugged off to go flirt up some poor soul on the catering staff, which leaves it so he and Adam have got some semblance of privacy… Which Ronan doesn’t care about at all.

“Lynch,” Adam says, mouth curled ever so slightly,  giving him a thin lipped smile. “How’s it going.”

“My life is a fucking summer day,” Ronan replies with probably too much glaring.

“So that nasty looking bruise on your jaw?”

“For the esthetic.”

“Think you missed bad ass and landed on kid who gets too many nose bleeds during gym class.”

“Know that look from experience Parrish?”

He shrugs, unaffected. 

“I was always captain, so can’t say so.”

“Cocky little fuck,” Ronan hisses, making it so Adam’s face finally brightens ten fold and he lets out a breathy— blink and you’ll miss it— laugh. He’s got these insane dimples that never fail to make Ronan’s stomach tie itself into knots, and makes it so  his heart stutter with pleasure and always, always fuels him to try and make them pop out just one more time…. But erm, that means nothing. Whatever Blue or Gansey, or Noah— Especially Henry— Whatever they say whatever stupid little ticks his body goes through, it means nothing towards what he feels for Adam. Which for the record, at best,  is irritated exasperation veiled with a thin layer of indifferent acquaintanceship, considering Gansey has regarded the bloke as a brother since their first night as roommates back in college.

“You wanna grab a drink or will it hurt too much with the injury and all?” 

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll make it so your shitting teeth for the next month.”

“Kinky.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Ronan’s doomed.

.-

“So far the pattern seems to be wealthy, careless and dumb,” Blue says from where she’s hanging upside-down on the couch in Ronan’s den that’s been commandeered for any Greywaren business.

“You just read that off of Parrish’s article in the Tribune this week,” Henry toots, flipping through the aforementioned news report  about who’s been labeled as The Magician. 

“He’s a smart cookie,” Blue relents, having always been partial to Parrish since first meeting him years ago at one of the ridiculous “family dinners,” Gansey holds every Friday evening,  instead of doing something more par for the course for adults their age, namely getting blackout drunk and dancing at sleazy clubs. (

Gansey had just stepped into Monmouth , blasé as all get out with Adam only a few feet behind him, and had gestured his way with the introduction. “This’s Adam, he’s a genius reporter and a great man. Even’s got a photo of him and Lois Lane pinned to his desk at the Tribune.” 

Adam in turn smiled self deprecatingly, his cheeks flushed prettily. “She spoke at a rally our freshman year, just got lucky I suppose.” 

“Oh my God! I love her!” Blue had squawked, eyes bright.  “She’s right between Wonder Woman and Angela Davis on my wall of inspirational women.” 

“Some wall,” Adam said wryly.

“I thought that was a wall of ladies you wouldn’t mind pegging,” Ronan had interrupted just to be a shit.

 “Lynch, I’m not afraid to kill in cold blood.”

If that interaction hadn’t scared Adam off, Ronan supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that nothing had, that now he’s as internal to this little ragtag crew of Henriettas saving graces as any of them, even if he doesn’t have the slightest clue of their night gigs.

“We could ask him about the Magician,” Gansey offers, lips pursed and hopeful glint to his big, caff like  eyes. Ronan knows that he— that all of them— hate lying to Adam, to evade his questions and avoid his calls whenever things are particularly insane, but it’s better this way. If it was up to Ronan none of them would be stuck in this dangerous business. Gansey is here because he had been brought up with Ronan, quite literally brothers in everything but blood. He knew what Niall was, what Ronan is. He knows the importance of the Barns and the danger of Greenmantle, Ronan couldn’t have lied to him about this if he tried. Noah was already privy to the forces of good and evil warring it out in this seemingly inconsequential city right out of DC, had been the one to approach Ronan as Greywaren first, to cultivate a bond that soon transformed into a partnership and now friendship. Henry’s family worked to provide the pieces for the technology that the  original dreamer wanted replicated, for Niall, and it only made sense that when Niall had ever so unceremoniously past the mantel off to Ronan, that Seondeok did the same for Henry. 

To this day Ronan isn’t quite sure how Blue squirmed her way into everything, only that she’s the daughter of a well renowned psychic that they consulted with once on a case, and she had right then, chin tipped high and a deeply embedded resilience in her gaze, had informed them all that she’d be joining their efforts. A few years later, falling in love with Gansey and officially hired to  lead all  knew projects for Lynch Charity, in between, Ronan can’t imagine doing all this without her scrappy self.

But that’s all besides the point. Ronan never wants to be the cause of them hurting, them in danger. He’s seen what could happen to someone if they take one wrong move, saw it splayed out with Niall’s blood and matted hair and sickly pillar that still haunts Ronan’s nightmares most nights.

Ronan’s gonna prevent that from ever happening again to anyone he loves, even if that means he has to prevent any of the aforementioned teammates  from joining his chases, or if it means he has to lie to Adam’s face. To pretend as if he doesn’t see the way Adam’s begun barricading himself from them bit by bit, well aware that there’s something dividing them all from him.

Ronan would rather see Adam furious at him, than never getting to see the particular shade of forget me not blue that colors his irises, ever again.

The choice is simple.

“No.” He tells Gansey, not leaving an ounce of  room for rebuttal.

“He’s a Pulitzer Prize nominated Journalist Ronan, in layman’s terms that means he’s great at figuring things out,” Gansey says with the worn patience of someone who’s hashed out this argument a thousand times before. “It’s improbable that he hasn’t already begun suspecting the truth already.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“I’m sure he could handle himself.”

“No,” Ronan repeats, voice resounding.

“Okay, no time,” Noah cuts in shortly, fingers tapping an agitated staccato against the keyboard of his desktop. “There’s a robbery on Madison Avenue and people are saying it’s our little, yellow caped friend.”

“Stay safe,” Gansey says— like he always does— and Ronan says that he will, like he always does— and the tension between them breaks, for now at the very least, like it always does.

.-

Ronan’s day job, as Declan had once oh so kindly put it, is to stay pretty and give a good face to the brand. “You’re a shit and I know that, but maybe if no one has to talk to you and just sees that you’ve got the same smile as Dad did, they won’t find out for themselves.” Declan had earned a swift right hook for that one, but was probably expecting it considering the dodge and the lecture on anger management he had suffered Ronan through for the next hour.

All this to say, Ronan doesn’t really have a day job. He occasionally visits The Barns— never crossing the threshold but just looking from afar at all he’s fighting to get back— Other times, if he’s not nursing a hangover or injury from the night before, Ronan would drive out to Dc and pull Matthew from classes to get lunch and maybe catch a movie. Though more often than not, Ronan ends up at one of the numerous Lynch owned real-estates, specifically the one where the entire top floor is rented out by the second largest paper in the fucking tri-state area. The fact that a majority of his friends happen to work there is pure coincidence and it would be slanderous to allude otherwise. 

“You enjoy our company,” Noah taunts, camera dangling from his neck and face split with a bright smile.

“Fuck you.”

“You do though,” he beams, impervious.

“Noah I swear to fucking God.”

.-

“Ah, so the prodigal son has returned,” Adam, looking like a fucking professional in his button down and tie, greets one particular Thursday afternoon when Ronan shows up for the first time that week. It’s been a difficult one for him, with the news that Greenmantle is most certainly not in Boston anymore, but also undetectable anywhere else on the continental United States, coupled with the series of robberies from more and more of the city’s wealthiest, surely by no other than that fucking yellow cape— The Magician— It’s just been really fucking exhausting.

Ronan will go to his grave before admitting that just catching sight of Adam here, now… It kind of makes him breathe a little easier, even if there’s a cut right under Adam’s chin and his stance is woven with a certain fatigue one can only recognize with experience. 

He suddenly remembers talking to one of Adam’s old school friends, a petite blonde who looked at an oblivious Adam with hearts in her eyes. He members her telling him just how Adam had lost the hearing in his left ear, how it was merely a tipping point from a long building cycle of abuse. Ronan thinks of how gutted he feels looking at how haggard Adam looks right now, and can’t imagine knowing him back when fucking Robert Parrish was still apart of his life.

But he shakes that all off, offers Adam a snide half grin like he’’s probably expecting.

“Missed me sugar dumpling,” Ronan jeers in an overdone accent to mock Adam’s subtle one, vowels rounded and snatching away the g.

“It was quieter,” is all Adam says, and if Ronan doesn’t know better he would’ve taken that as a compliment teetering on flirtatious instead of one of Adam’s deadpan observations. 

And oh, that’s interesting. 

“I’ve always been known for my stimulating conversational skills,” Ronan nods sagely, leaning against Adam’s desk with his arms wrapped across his chest, enjoying it probably a little too much how Adam’s peering up at him with his bright eyes through his spider leg lashes. 

Sometimes, just sometimes— just when Adam looks at him like Ronan could be the brightest part of his day— Ronan feels like he’s standing on the precipice of something with him, something that makes his chest stutter and stomach tumble itself into knots. Like Adam’s air and Ronan’s finally breathing. But also that’s a ridiculous notion because in all the years they’ve known each other Adam’s never made a move, not one that Ronan could discern at least, and he just needs to not fall into some ridiculous folly. 

“Oh I’m sure,” he snorts.

 “You wanna grab lunch? Leo’s having a half off if you buy two sale.”

“I don’t eat gluten.”

“I saw you scarf down a bowl of pasta at the mayor’s shitty dinner literally last weekend,” Ronan accuses, incredulous and only slightly affronted.

“Fine,” Adam breathes out. “Then I don’t eat gluten that’s meant to distract me from my work.”

“Fuck off.”

“Can’t do that either.”

Ronan seriously thinks he might hate Adam, if it wasn’t for the fact that he most certainly does not.

“You don’t have to like work yourself ragged just to prove a point you know, just because you’re the newest print journalist doesn’t mean you’re the least talented.” Ronan tells him, gruff sounding and avoiding his gaze at all costs. “That’s obviously Tad.”

Adam stays quiet for too long, so Ronan braces himself and turns around, not expecting Adam to be pinning Ronan with a one eyed squint, like he’s sizing him up. Like Ronan’s some sort of jigsaw puzzle he can never quite figure out. 

“Kay, let’s go,” he says, slow and cautious as he shuts his laptop and slinks on his jacket.  Ronan is only partially surprised that he actually listened, usually it takes a whole lot more cross looks and prodding at and about ten times more profanities for Adam to even consider stop working on some new story or the other that he’s particularly passionate about. 

“Good,” Ronan huffs in as flat of a tone he can muster. “But I fucking hate subs so we’re not going to Leo’s.”

Adam sighs, long suffering. “You were born to be contrary Lynch.”

“’S what Declan says, but he doesn’t know shit.”

“As opposed to you? Oh great arbiter of all knowledge.” Adam retorts, making it so Ronan’s mouth dips into a small, reluctant smile. 

“Precisely.”

Their eyes connect at that moment, ice blues boring into a twilight night sky sparkling with kisses of starlight. Ronan can hear his heart beat in his ears and his throat lodge with emotions he can’t place quite yet.

It’s Adam who breaks it, averting his gaze and clearing his throat, adjusting his papers on the desk just to make it as seemingly natural as possible.

“Mexican, Mexican’s never bad. And hey I get a chance to hear you fail at rolling your Rs.”

Ronan glowers.

“Piss off.”

So they go, Ronan orders a meat stuffed burrito and Adam orders the special and Ronan doesn’t talk about all the gluten Adam’s eating and  they most definitely do not talk about what may or may not have past between them.

It’s fine. It’s normal. He’s good.

Ronan’s got a lot of other shit to be worrying about without this maybe something he’s been harboring for Adam since before they even really knew each other, and it shouldn’t change just because Adam seems to be finally joining him in this strange little dance, stumbling together  around  this tiny flame that may or may not have sparked to life.

It’s fine. it’s normal. He’s good.

“I’m figuring out who Greywaren is,” Adam answers Ronan’s inquiry on what story’s got him so on edge and everything freezes over.

It’s not fine. It’s not normal. And Ronan is sure as fuck not good.

.-

“He’s swung onto Hamilton Boulevard,” Blue tells Ronan, almost frantic, through the headphone set. 

Ronan finally gets the fucking Magician in eye sight, watching as he slips into the maze of downtown apartments.

“Good, no fucking trees,” Ronan hisses while swerving off the road and chasing after him by foot, eventually landing on a rooftop. It’s the sixth encounter they’ve had in as many weeks so Ronan thinks he’s finally starting to ware him down, or at least beginning to figure out his arsenal of techniques. He knows that the moment he lands on that roof The Magician will just leap to the next one and the one after that until he finally loses Ronan in the dust.

But this time the Magician doesn’t know about the little pouch of a Ronan Lynch original that’s clacking  around on his belt. 

“Isn’t there more important shit you should be chasing after?” The Magician growls out, leaping to the next roof in the row and rolling his landing— smooth fuck.

“Isn’t there better ways you can be earning money besides stealing it?” Ronan counters, right on his tale.

“Like those old farts would miss’m,” The Magician scoffs, thin lips pinched into an infuriatingly attractive pout. “There are kids starving in this city, you know that Greywaren?”

“So what? You some fucking reincarnation of Robin Hood?” Ronan spits out.

“He was a fictional character, so that’d be impossible,” The Magician pivots around so quickly that Ronan is caught off guard, especially when he pulls out a bow and arrow and shoots it with deadly precision, tearing Ronan’s cape right off and sticking it to the wall behind them.

“But the bow is a favorite of mine.”

Ronan clenches his teeth in frustration. 

“Look I don’t give a fuck about you getting your jollies from stealing from old, rich fucks. Not really.”

“Then why the hell do you keep pursuing me?” The Magician charges, never flinching from his stance or losing his aim directed right at Ronan’s chest.

“Greenmantle,” he grits out, like broken glass ripping his throat to shreds and piercing his tongue and lips as it escapes in a fury of blood and guts and abandonment. “You said that name when we first met.”

“Yeah, and so what?”

“What do you mean so what!” Ronan bellows, hates how this vigilante fuck is so blasé about the one person that makes it feel like Ronan’s insides are burning up and dying right alongside everything else when Niall had past. With his mother and the Barns and the memories and the ease of just existing to exist instead of searching for some existential meaning behind it all. “How do you even know Greenmantle?”

The Magician just shrugs, for the first time in all the weeks he’s been clashing against Ronan his face betrays his typical impassivity and actually looks cautious, curious— unsure.

“Greenmantle’s the one who asked me to figure out who you are, paid me like a ridiculous sum of money for it.”

“And why do you think Greenmantle wants me so badly!”

“Fuck if I know, some blood feud between the wealthy and powerful. I don’t care, it’s not my business.”

“Fuck off,” Ronan steps closer, but the Magician remains stock-still, weapon poised to be wielded. “I know it was you who stopped that armed robbery last weekend at the bank, and you saved that bus collision with your creepy voodoo one with the trees, powers.”

This time the Magician’s lips curl into acute disapproval, he’s irritated by Ronan calling him out. Ronan thinks that it should be disconcerting that he could get so much from a simple reading of his mouth, but also it’s the only feature he can see on his face, so it isn’t that creepily invested.

“I don’t put people in danger, just steal from the oblivious and wealthy.”

“You’re not a bad guy,” Ronan surmises, has known that for a while now. “Don’t get mixed up in Greenmantle’s shit. They’re bad people, really bad.”

The magician sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, flickers his focus to something right above Ronan’s shoulder, like he was considering his words in a meaningful kind of way.

“How do I know that you’re not just lying to me. That Greenmantle isn’t justified for whatever slight you’ve done to them.”

“There’s a reason why you haven’t really tried figuring me out, you don’t want to help them.” Ronan needles.

“Don’t try to psychoanalyze me.”

“It’s true, you feel it. you know they aren’t safe.”

“Tell me why I should trust you,” is all the Magician says, waspish.

Ronan wants to shout, to pull out his hair and just scream. He wants to tell the Magician that he didn’t commit some sort of  fucking obscene offense to’m, that Greenmantle just knows what he can do and wants to control it, control him. But Ronan’s suddenly too tired and too frustrated and too so many things that he can’t even fathom parsing out the right words to convince him. Instead, Ronan just  picks out one of the seeds in his pouch and throws it into the Magician’s sandy hair, ducking when the first arrow is released.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Why can’t you fucking just listen to me!” Ronan says instead of answering. “Greenmantle is fucking evil.”

“You missed anyways douche,” the Magician snarls out, pulling another arrow from his sheath.

Ronan lets out a little, dark laugh at that, standing up to his full height. “Haven’t you ever heard that the beginnings of all things are small?”

The Magician’s face goes very flat, completely unimpressed.

“Now who’s speaking in shitty voodoo riddles?”

Fuck, Ronan hates how much he enjoys waging words with him.

“It’s not voodoo,” Ronan says in an admittedly cryptic voice.

“What the fuck!” The magician suddenly balks. Ronan reckons it’s because of the ropes knitting themselves around him over frustration about  his comment. 

“You won’t listen, so I’m turning you in.”

“Screw you!” he yells, face bright with feeling. 

“Jail’s better than if you accidentally get on Greenmantle’s bad side,” Ronan informs him magnanimously, dark head tilted in an admittedly Declan way.

“You are such a piece of shit.”

“Could say the same to you sweetheart,” Ronan sniffs, is taken aback at the unexpected prickling to his side.

“What—“

He looks up to find the Magician tearing through the ropes that look like they’ve been completely unwound. He looks a bit closer to find the hundreds of small spikes prickling its circumference.

“Is that—“

“A pine,” Magician scoffs, lets out a new round to pierce into Ronan’s side with a mere snap of his finger.

“How the fuck can you even do that!”

The Magician doesn’t answer, just bolts over to Ronan with a swift kick to the opposite side from the needles, rendering him defenseless, and runs off just as soon as the sirens come within hearing distance. All Ronan could do is watch the night swallow him whole.

.-

Ronan is bothered and disgruntled and pissed off— even more than usual. It’s why he’s sulking in a dark corner, peevish as all get out, while there’s like a hundred guests invading his family home in the city, here to celebrate Declan’s thirtieth and also probably just to make Ronan hate life that bit more.

He can’t believe he let the Magician go that easily, and now that he is actually mad at Ronan who knows what he’ll do now to actually figure him out, bring’m to Greenmantle just so they could finish the job and kill off all the Lynch dreamers. 

“Fuck.”

“Language,” a far too familiar voice reproofs with no heat, making Ronan jolt back to watch as Adam strolls towards him.

“You’re here?” Ronan says, floundered as he stares at the way his shoulders move just right in that blazer. God he’s beautiful.

“You should really consider asking Gansey for a job, your observational skills are truly top notch,” Adam says in a decidedly sardonic tone.

“Asshole,” Ronan huffs, excepting the drink Adam offers him.

“You seemed in a funk all week, thought you’d need the moral support for a party literally  meant to celebrate your brother.”

Ronan looks away, tries not to look so gleeful that Adam came here specifically— solely— to cheer up Ronan.

“You thought I’d want your company over any of these pricks,” Ronan says just to keep up pretenses— Admittedly a bit to afraid of the outcome if he starts to let them slide and just begins to babble out  loud all the stupid thoughts clamoring in his mouth and chest and mind whenever around Adam. The way his chest blooms with something splendid and the blossoms taking shelter in his ribcage. Though Adam seems to be having completely contradictory thoughts, because all he does is shrug— almost defiant.

“I thought you’d like my company yes,” he says blithely, as if he were reading a weather forecast or some shit.

“Whatever,” Ronan says instead of telling him he’s right. But Adam takes it as is with a diffident little smile and stepping that much nearer, good ear tipped towards Ronan.

“You wanna get out of the crowd? Show me around this place?”

Ronan does not swallow down, not for any particular reason at least, like how maybe to the untrained ear that could’ve past as a come on.

That is not a thing that happens! He’s not some Bella Swan type swooning over a cute boy he’s pretty sure is the one. That’s not happening! Ronan is not doing that!

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Adam’s answering smile is radiant. And Ronan fucking hates himself for even knowing that word.

.-

“It’s huge…. Ah erm, your house I mean,” Adam coughs a little and Ronan’s absolutely ecstatic for the turning tables. 

“Dad use to say that if we weren’t at our palace we still should live like kings, and my mom just indulged all his stupid whims,” Ronan explains, wistful.

“The Barns,” Adam says, slow and cautious, probably knowing that it’s a touchy subject but still curious. “That’s your palace, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Ronan nods, stops in front of a mantel underscoring a risibly large portrait of Niall and Arora, the pair of them juxtaposing completely but still  both so etherial that it would be preposterous to ever imagine one without the other.

 Beautiful and rugged. golden and dark. careless and careful. 

Ronan feels a sudden, acute pang to his chest. Jesus Christ does he miss them.

“They’re beautiful,” Adam marvels, pinky touching the side of Ronan’s hand ever so tenderly from besides him. “You look exactly like your father.”

“Yeah… I’ve been told that.”

They stand there, in the silence, for a little longer— Ronan isn’t quite sure how much time past, a minute or hour, but it feels quiet. For the first time Ronan feels quiet and at peace when he looks at this portrait, and he isn’t sure if it’s a good sign that he’s finally starting to mend, or a bad one that says Greenmantle will soon cause him to join them on the other side.

Eventually, Ronan turns over— apologetic— To Adam, is surprised when he finds him staring with intense interest on the words carved into the frame.

“Omnium rum principia parva sunt,” Ronan reads out loud. “It means—“

“The beginnings of all things are small,” Adam says, mechanically, disbelievingly, confusedly. 

“You know the quote then,” Ronan asks, is struck dumb when Adam’s ordinarily bright and methodical eyes flicker to him as if in a trance. 

“No, not really. Just heard of it recently.”

Ronan nods, it being answer enough. “You wanna meet Chainsaw?”

“Chainsaw?” Adam repeats, finally appearing to come to his own again. 

Ronan cocks his head, silently telling Adam to follow suit, and he does.

.-

“It’s a bird…”

“She’s a raven,” Ronan huffs. “Now who’s got wicked observational skills?”

Adam’s face goes a bit pale, looking excruciatingly uncomfortable as he just nods along to Ronan, not even bothering to snipe back. 

“Yeah sure, of course she is.”

He finishes feeding Chainsaw and leads Adam back to his nearby room, pretending his skin isn’t squirming with anticipation. 

“Is this how you court all your dates?” Adam asks, teasing unassuming all at once, a masterpiece of contradictions Ronan could spend an eon trying to parse out and wouldn’t grow tired.

“Is that what this is?” Ronan asks, tentative while sitting down besides him on the bed.

“Dunno,” Adam shrugs. “’S what I wanted it to be, reckoned you weren’t gonna make a move for another five years.” 

Ronan’s face goes blotchy, and Adam’s laugh is something musical.

“You’re enjoying this.” Ronan huffs.

“You’re precious,” Adam preens, cupping Ronan’s cheek in earnest and slanting his lips against Ronan’s own, and suddenly all the muted grays of this poor substitute of The barns transform to vivid, screaming color. It’s slow and cautious at first but melts into something more, something so much more. It feels like nights racing in the BMW, and days running around the Barns as a kid, wild and free. It feels like sun kissed skies and when his cold fingers begin to thaw at the fire place. It feels like remembering and discovering and just knowing. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for like a year,” Adam admits, bashful, once they finally part, hot tendrils of  breath skirting against Ronan’s lips and soft hands caressing his cheeks.

“Try. Like. three of them.” Ronan counters, punctuating his words with a kiss to Adam’s collar bone, the hinge of his jaw, the tops of his cheekbones.

He can do this, Adam wants him to do this. This is a thing that they’re doing.

“Jesus Ronan,” Adam says in an almost wine, snaking his hands beneath Ronan’’s shirt and splaying out his fingers greedily. “That’s like since we met?”

“I know.”

Adam swoops down so that their lips are moving against each other once more, and everything feels golden.

But it all goes to an abrupt halt when he feels Adam’s long fingers skimming his still bruised side and he sucks in a breath.

“Still tender,” he winces.

Adam pulls back, as if he’s been scorched.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ronan assures, only a bit pissy that the kissing has stopped— he liked the kissing. “Just a little sore spot.” His shirt rises up enough to give Adam a clear view of the still healing spot, is confused when his face goes a sickly green and he pulls away even further.

“What’s up Parrish?” Ronan asks, sitting up right alongside him.

“That… That looks like a kick. A hard one.”

Ronan kinks up his brows, teasing. 

“So I swung back to bad ass or still a nerd with nose bleeds?”

“That’s a kick,” is all Adam repeats, like he’s gone mad.

“Yeah Parrish, I got in a fight. Don’t sweat, it comes with the territory of buzz cuts and leather jackets. Wouldn’t expect you to know Mr All America.”

“A fight,” Adam says, slow and confounded. His lips moving around the words and his face still blanched, a decidedly unhealthy hue spreading across his soft features. 

“Parrish you okay?”

“I gotta— I gotta go.” He says, scrambling off the bed and straightening his clothes. Ronan feels distinctly like being left high and dry.

“Now? You have to leave now?”

“Yes, now. Immediately.”

“Okay… Gimme a minute to find my keys, I’ll drive you back to yours.”

“I want to walk,” Adam declines, already racing out the door.

“Woah, did I do something wrong?”

“No, nothing,” Adam says, face being tugged into a whole array of emotions before landing on a dangerously blank expression that Ronan’s never been able to read for shit.

Adam goes and Ronan’s confused and the house is still filled with fucking annoying ass guests.

.-

“You’re upset,” Blue says, blunt as ever.

“You’re annoying,” Ronan counters, snappish.

“It’s gotta due with Adam doesn’t it,” She charges, hands flying to her hips and looking more like Maura than Ronan could’ve ever expected.”’S why he’s called in sick to work for the past week and you’ve been more crass than usual.”

“Fuck off,” Ronan hisses, doesn’t look away from where they’re perched atop one of the higher buildings of Henrietta, perfect view to both its polished corners and seedy underbelly.

“I’m right, aren’t I,” Blue presses, but Ronan doesn’t bother to engage.  “Just admit it!”

“So what if you are?”

“God, you both are such idiots.”

Ronan flips her the bird only just catching a flash of yellow ducking into an alleyway.

“Not the fuck today,” he hisses out morosely. “Call me on the bee,”  he tells Blue before pouncing down and chasing after him.

He doesn’t hear her respond, doesn’t really hear anything. He only comes back to focus when the alleyway ends and he’s looking at The Magician standing rigid in front of St Agnes.

“You’re a dreamer,” He says with no fanfare, not accusing but not happy about it either.

“Wh—“

“”s why Greenmantle wants you.”

“Not exactly Nancy Drew,” Ronan mutters out, circling him cautiously.

“He killed your father, he’s the one who sent the hit on Niall.”

In an instance everything goes red, Ronan’s ears roaring with unadulterated fury. 

Like a bullet, Ronan tackles into The Magician, hand wrapped around his neck and noses brushing against each other.

“how the fuck do you know that name,” he asks with heavy breaths. 

“Greenmantle killed your father and he wants to kill you next because of some sort of vendetta against the Lynches.” Yellow cape manages out, barely breathing with Ronan’s hand still clasped tightly around his neck.

“Tell me how you know the name Niall?” He barks out, squeezing even harder. Though Ronan is confused when the magician doesn’t even try fighting back. 

“I know you Ronan, it’s me.”

Everything stutters to a stop, and Ronan’s grasp begins to subside.

“You know my name? How do you know my name?”

“Because it’s me, It’s Adam.”

The world’s gone inside out, and flipped upside down and Ronan’s let go of the Magician— of Adam— and is across the yard once more, stunned silent as he watches as the Magician sheds off  the yellow mask to reveal a familiar mop of sandy hair and night blue eyes and a tiny little dent over his top lip that Ronan’s never asked about but has always wondered if it had to do with the way he holds himself with caution strung into his stance. And absolutely nothing makes sense at all.

“Ad—Adam,” he balks. 

“It’s a long story,” is all he says, completely glum.

“When did you— How did you—“

“Only the other night when we were in your room,” his cheeks go a fetching red at the memory and Ronan yearns to go back to that moment of tranquility before all of this. “I couldn’t believe it, but when I finally figured it out, it all made sense.”

“How— How did you.”

“Look Ronan— Or, erm … Greywaren, there’s no time to explain any of this right now.”

“Why the hell not,” Ronan snarls, tries to feel an appropriate amount of fear, but hates how he’ll probably always feel safe and secure when around fucking Adam Parrish, no matter who he’s dressed as.

“The Greenmantle you know, Colin, he’s dead.” Ronan balks, but Adam just steamrolls over it, continues on speaking with clipped words and a franticness Ronan doesn’t understand quite yet.”it’s his wife you need to worry about, Piper. She’s the one who hired me and has been looking for you, she wants to avenge him like some sort of Harley Quin esthetic.”

“I have no fucking idea what you’re saying.” Ronan informs him grimly. 

“You don’t need to understand, just dream.” Adam tells him, thrusts out a manilla envelope to him and waits for Ronan to open it up and read its contents. 

“Excuse me?”

“Read it.  memorize it, Dream it.” Adam tells him.

“You want me to frame Greenmantle for some pretty heinous shit.”

“You want her taken out, don’t you,” Adam charges.

“How do you know I can even create this shit in my head?” Ronan asks, brows furrowed.

“I have faith,” Adam says with a seriousness etched into his features Ronan’s never seen. “And you’ve got fuel.”

“fuel?”

“Shit won’t be safe until she’s gone, if you ask me, I reckon that’s all your dad intended, for you and your brothers to be safe. I reckon that’s why he barred you guys from the Barns in the first place. Piper’s been there like a thousand times, the dream energy at The Barns is heavy, like a ley line all it’s own. But when the dangers gone, you can make it your palace again.”

“That’s detailed,” Ronan says slowly, still so totally confused.

“I’ve had a week to figure it all out, and this’s the only full proof plan I’ve got.” Adam tells him. 

Ronan bores his eyes into Adam’s own, finds something he recognizes as quintessentially  Adam Parrish in them, and feels that quiet again he did a week ago at Declan’s birthday party. 

He feels sure.

“Okay, I’ll play along.”

“Good,” the ends of Adam’s lips curve up into a smile and Ronan feels like he’s finally gotten the answer right.

.-

They’re back sitting side by side on Adam’s desk, a newspaper in Ronan’s grasp announcing the arrest of Piper Greenmantle.

“You’re preening,” Adam mildly notes.

“I feel…. Free,” Ronan says, far too vulnerable for such a open place.

“I’m glad,” Adam says, voice shimmering with sincerity as he stands up. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, that you’ll always feel that.”

Ronan eyes him, confused. 

“Sounds like a goodbye to me,” Ronan accuses, and Adam just shrugs. 

“I’ve made a mess of everything, you almost got hurt, seriously hurt.”

“You didn’t know,” Ronan contends.

“I was flippant,” Adam corrects. “But she’s gone now, and you’re going to be safe, so it feels like the right point for me to maybe start fresh too.”

“No,” Ronan says.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a good guy Adam, and that’s more than most people. People either suck or are awful… You’re not, you’re good.”

Adam frowns. 

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m not,” Ronan stands up, wraps a hand around one of Adam’s slender wrists. “You’re good and you’re bold and you’re a genius and if it weren’t for you I’d probably still be running around terrified that Greenmantle would come back to finish me off. Thank you for giving me the chance not to be afraid of that anymore… Thank you for that.”

“Of course Lynch,”

Ronan swallows down, trying his hardest not to avert his gaze.

“So stay Parrish. Stay and let’s start shit over together.”

Adam doesn’t answer in so many words, instead just inclines his head forwards and kisses Ronan within an inch of his life. 

Ronan likes that answer a whole hell of a lot more. 

[yatharthhospitalnoida-blog]

How Coronavirus Changed The World

As the world was preparing to celebrate the passing of 2019 and welcoming 2020, just before the toasts and countdowns were to begin, the decade’s most consequential development of all broke the surface. On 31st December, a Chinese Government website declared the detection of a “pneumonia of unknown cause” in the area neighbouring the South China seafood wholesale market in Wuhan, a city consisting of 11 million people.

In the next three months after the announcement about the unknown virus, the world has been plunged into chaos. Soon the virus was determined to be a part of the coronavirus family, an all-new strain named COVID-19. No treatment or cure is discovered yet and after being declared as a pandemic, the virus froze international travel, extinguished economic activities and confined humanity to their homes, infecting more than a million people, with the stats rising every day. Till date, the COVID-19 has claimed more than 95,000 deaths worldwide in less than four months.

But all of this was unimaginable at the end of December when everyone was getting ready to celebrate the New Year with the hopes of making 2020 their year. But 2020 started like something which no one could’ve expected. Let’s take a look at the drastic changes that started happening since the inception of 2020 –

Discovery of a new Coronavirus Strain –

On 8th of January, 2020, the World Health Organization (WHO) told the world that the cases of pneumonia reported since December in the central Chinese city of Wuhan, could possibly because of a new coronavirus strain.

In December, 59 people were officially diagnosed with the illness, which caused serious respiratory problems. The confirmed cases included multiple employees from a Wuhan market where live animals were sold for food.

Speculation of SARS

The new virus showed symptoms of SARS (Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome), a coronavirus that causes nearly 800 deaths in 30 countries, originating from Hong Kong and China in 2002-2003.

The first death from the virus was announced on January 11 in China and the epidemic spread across different provinces of the country before reaching beyond the borders of China.

China announces lockdown

In an attempt to contain the spread, China took the radical step of confining its people. Wuhan became the first city to be locked down followed by the whole of Hubei on January 25, restricting 56 million people from the rest of the world.

By the end of January, the WHO declared it to be a global health emergency.

Tourists restrictions

Soon, international airlines started reducing their flights to mainland China and tourists started postponing their vacation plans.

How it all started?

In early February, researchers in China identified the pangolin, a scaly endangered mammal, as the possible link that initiated the spread of the virus from bats to humans.

Li Wenliang, an ophthalmologist in Wuhan succumbed to the disease. The doctor was among a group of people who raised the alarm about the virus in late December but was censored by the authorities in Hubei province.

Although much remained unknown about the new Coronavirus, it got a new name, “COVID-19”.

Economies suppressed  

February 15, the first death was announced outside Asia, in France.

The number of infectious cases rose drastically in Italy, South Korea and Iran, by the end of February.

On March 24, the International Olympic Committee took the historic decision to postpone the Summer Games which were to be held in Tokyo to 2021.

Increasing concern around the world

WHO declared COVID-19 a “pandemic” and asked the world to take action on March 11.

The US began to seal its borders to foreign visitors from Europe.

World stock markets suffered significant losses. Meanwhile, Governments and central banks announced massive aid packages.

The panic grew and long queues started piling up in supermarkets.

Lockdown in Most of the countries

Many countries worldwide followed with different forms of lockdown, as the death toll continued to rise and medical facilities struggled to cope.

By April 2, half of the world’s population was called on or asked by their authorities to stay inside their homes to fight the outbreak.

Flights were grounded, schools and universities closed, and employees were asked to work from home.

Madrid turned an ice rink into a morgue while New York opened emergency field hospitals in Central Park.

The world has not seen such a crisis since 1945

The coronavirus pandemic is said to be the worst global crisis since World War 2, by the UN at the end of March. It has the potential of triggering conflicts around the world and an economic recession “that probably has no parallel in the recent past”

This outbreak has changed the world in numerous unimaginable ways and is still continuing to do so. The death toll is rising every day and so are the number of infected cases. The guidelines are changing every day and nothing is predictable anymore. But with everyone standing together to fight this, better days are sure to come. There’s always a light at the end of the tunnel, we just have to make it through.

SOURCE: https://www.yatharthhospitals.com/blogs/how-coronavirus-changed-the-world

[froneypupbee]

Heartstrings 

☁ Link to Masterlist ☁ Genre: Mystery, DreamFic! AU, OneShot! ☁ Word Count: 3.4k ☁ Summary: In which the narrator wakes in a vast emptiness and cannot recall their identity. The only clues they’re left with are identical doors and a set of instincts that act as instructions for the maze. However, there is more beyond those rooms than any can expect, and in a realm they are unfamiliar with, they may lose all sense of who they really are.

A deafening silence engulfs the vicinity, emitting nothing but serenity in a limpid space. It caresses my skin like a cool autumn breeze, yet the atmosphere only offers a wintry blanket that ice over the walls like frozen curtains.

It is a room of nothing. Nothing, but the kind of translucent white that makes new snow look grey. Its brilliance, searing my retinas through my eyelids, tickle my bed of eyelashes that shudder like dandelions swaying in a spring meadow. As my eyes are prompt open, I drink in the pure silence and take a few glimpses of the ivory floors and walls that seem as bare as a morning sky. A few feet ahead, there are three doors embroidered in gold.  The brilliant line of shimmer intensifies as though they have eyes staring right back at me.

Yet I am not the only one in the room. Not far behind, there is another girl causing soft footfalls, as stunned as I am, wandering the area as if she has discovered a new realm. She suddenly notices me, expression unchanged. For the briefest of moments, we keep our gazes as still as time, realizing we recognize each other but cannot recall our names. When we idly linger long enough, we grow accustomed to the reverberations of our heartbeats, and for a few moments, we comfortably absorb the lack of sound. Other than that, only the rhythmic breathing we share brokers the air.

Cautiously, the girl approaches me, her aura bursting with warmth and a sense of euphoria. She wants to know what this place is, and as expected, I can’t tell her the answer since I don’t have one for myself. It is unfamiliar, yet soothing, as though we have been welcomed in this same locality in the past. Of course, if those memories exist, we no longer have them. We now stand cluelessly in the vast area we inwardly name as the beginning of an empty mystery.

In the next fleeting moments, we somehow know precisely what’s to occur, yet neither of us can be certain until we pass through the very doors that await us. From that, we deem ourselves as new individuals prepared to face whatever lay in those rooms.

I take a step forward towards a door, then another one, as my breath shifts along with my progressive pace. My chest plays its steady drum when I stop to take a fleeting glance at the girl, who is placing her hand on the handle of a different door but doesn’t turn it. Instead, she returns my acknowledgment with kind, determined eyes and a small smile—one that I can only presume is a good luck charm along with an assumption that we will meet again.

I enclose my hand around the doorknob, feeling the pulsating drums fade away as I twist it open. The girl’s presence immediately vanishes, and I am caught alone in a room that carries no differences than the one I awaken in. Soon enough, I hear the door shut with a drawn out slam resounding between the walls. Its creaking hinges bring a chill down my spine as a short breeze sneaks past the sides of my neck and ankles. I observe no progress or change in this current room, yet I fear the unknown that I am forced to anticipate. There is nothing that allows me to advance onward, which prompts me to turn back to restart this puzzle. I try the door once more, but end up shaking my grip off as the handle refuses to budge. My stomach suddenly drops. I am locked in.

Confused and in a slight daze, I avert my attention to the rest of the room, scanning for miscellaneous options. An abrupt sound echoes among the room, and from this my skin tingles from the crisp air brushing over the panicked sweat that starts to collect throughout my body. I recognize the key it is being played in, an oddly familiar note. I peer at the source of the brief tune perceived and notice a grand structure molded to the center left of the room—all shiny and pure white until the pianist comes into view. This scene was never present to begin with, yet instead of suspecting the initial absence, my feet and I are drawn to the sound that is manipulating my curiosity to come forward. It calls my entire being and encourages me to approach its maker. My limbs attach to strings that a puppeteer now has control over. It is an invitation for leisure, to feel the presence of myself and the one that is beckoning me to join him.

The row of pure ivory and ebony march into view, the pianist’s fingers skirting between sharps and flats. It is mesmerizing, watching the keys shimmer as though they are the moon on a starry night—bright, beautiful, and breathtaking. And the sound they create, the music they sing—it stirs something in me that recognizes the purpose of this song.

I watch the pianist’s hands ascend together in a magical flight to the heavens, an incredible melody of orchestral exuberance. His fingers are limber as they dance across the keys, alighting first on ivory then gliding to ebony. The fluid motion of his cavorting phalanges is punctuated by the sharp tap of a staccato note, or a graceful leap as he jumps octaves. His head slightly bows towards the keys, silver strands of hair falling past serenely shut eyes. I can envision the notes being thoroughly practiced inside his mind; the music filling the room to the brim and spilling through the cracks in the walls. A few falsettos remain still before they take their time to dive back down in giddy measures, until all that is left is the emptiness that first welcomed me into this transparent mystery. It is a shared experience that holds the pianist and I spellbound in rapt silence.

He delivers this song to me as recruitment. I can see it in his eyes as he finally opens them and greets me with a curious expression. I immediately notice his gentle temperament and soothing aura. He is no stranger to fear, I tell myself; this man has reoriented my worries into patience and wonder, and I can still feel the leftover crescendo seep through my veins. An unexpected grin lifts the spirits in his eyes—a deep, earthy brown; they glisten like powerful flames that contain secrets. They cradle the context and purpose of the everlasting maze I am confined in.

But this pianist has no intention of directly sharing those secrets with me. He wields passion towards another matter and shows no interest in the meaning of the realm he resides in. His expression does not show dismay from my negligence to his invitation, but he is intrigued enough to make room on the bench for me to sit.

“Play with me,” he says, “You are the first audience I’ve had in awhile. Join me so that I may cherish this moment.”

Reluctantly, I obey, not recalling the last time I was familiar with a piano, let alone the patterns of the instrument’s chords. Either way, I sit next to the man, one leg outstretching in attempt to reach the rightmost pedal. My arms raise above the row of keys, gently planting the ends of my fingers on a set of ivory. I straighten my posture, pushing my shoulders behind me and the small of my back upwards and in, sitting taller, more erect. But something is odd—my mind is blank, at a roadblock of sorts, or perhaps a screen that reaches from all angles. I don’t know what to play, and so I wait for the pianist’s lead. However, nothing begins. My position feels awkward and I look to him for a queue.

But the pianist frowns, a spark of realization in his eyes.

“You forgot how to play, didn’t you?” He sighs and offers a sympathetic smile.  

My shoulders become stiff from hearing the disappointment in his voice and I force a gulp down my throat, yet somehow the pianist remains calm and is not surprised that I don’t meet his expectations. He wears an expression that displays a level of confidence, and it suggests that he knows what to do and say next.

“Don’t worry,” he tells me and repositions himself so that our postures are parallel to each other.

“Here…” The pianist lifts his arms to the same level as mine, applying soft pressure into the ivory and summons a chord.

It is a simple chord, as though it is a salutation—or rather: an introduction. I release the tension in my hands and allow them to fall to my knees, my eyes glossing over the structure of his wrists. I notice he keeps them still on the same chord as he inches closer to my side and leniently brushes my foot off the pedal with his. He now takes full control of the instrument and I look to him with pursed lips.

He smirks and chuckles, but it is a harmless tease.

“Watch me,” he says, “We’ll start from the beginning, like when you were a child.”

When he assembles another tune with one hand, I suddenly feel the puppeteer beginning to tug on my strings again. It is imitating a conductor, one that is orchestrating my thoughts—my memories. It’s a perplexing feeling—an unanticipated rush, as though another conscious is making an effort to seize control. I sit idly, sensing an internal knocking constantly striking on a door that cannot open.

The pianist’s hand lightly strokes mine as he brings it up to another chord, beckoning me to join his auditory dance. I visualize the strings hoisting my right index finger onto an octave higher than his chord, matching his harmony. I perceive a small smile crawling onto my lips, and I catch a glimpse of the pianist’s serene manner. He shows no focus on the physical keys, but rather the notes themselves—the music. I can sense the exchange of our creations bursting in my core, demanding to be heard. My left hand eventually joins, but only calls upon the index finger. I am now playing something bland and unimaginative; however, it enhances the simplicity that this melody is and produces a sound that is quite lovely. I feel relaxed, at ease, as I listen to him play with me. I can touch the beginnings of togetherness and it is comforting. It is a safe place, and I am given the impression that I can stay here and listen to this warmth forever.

However, an ill-bearing chill surges down my spine, and our performance is instantly put to a stop. A light gasp escapes my throat. I retract my hands from the piano as though it scalds my skin. I find myself standing abruptly from the bench, every nerve in my body sending warning flares as though they are mental alarms that have been triggered.

“I stayed for too long,” I choke.

The pianist is undisturbed. He slowly rises to a stand and takes my hands in his. They feel cold, but soothing and full of embrace.

“You have to go on.” His breathing becomes softer, the look of concern melting into a smile as soft as the morning light. My body squirms just a little as my muscles start to relax. There is something about the presence of this pianist that is a peculiar solace, yet it is unique, like a fire that gives just the right amount of warmth. It has not once faded since he was discovered, and something tells me that an individual like this man—a sun that shines too bright for any to recognize—is someone I will never meet again.

Those brown eyes, I think to myself, they are a million hues. They are the forest and the autumnal leaves, the soil in summer and after the rains. In those earthy hues is his soul, his desire to appeal to an audience. The fabrication of his playing is the beauty that expands a moment into an eternity—a heaven you wish to be a part of. But there is something else in them, something glistening. They carry secrets, the same way a flower pot holds layers of deep soil—cradling—because it is essential to keep the plant safe. The roots are held in place the same way his determined eyes hold very securely onto his secrets.

Which is why I cannot stay. I understand why the pianist never had an intention of sharing those secrets with me. He is not a part of my reality, but only a figment of my imagination. He is aware that his existence has no obligation to meddle with my journey through the maze, but also has no reason to ignore my presence. Instead, while I am distracted and caught off-guard, something has been manipulating my innermost thoughts—a conscious that is unraveled and awakened, so I can discover an escape route.

The answers to solving this mystery—uncovering my identity.

I know I am onto something when the pianist’s eyes briskly avert to the wall behind me, causing me to divert my attention to a door that manifests itself before me. It is alien to me yet I am being lured in, my chest being pulled towards a void—coaxed to an unknown familiarity.

My puppeteer is waiting for me in the next room.

My arms fall to my sides as I unknowingly disentangle myself from the pianist. The silence drowns out my thoughts, and there is nothing but the strings in my core, my limbs, and my ankles being dragged towards the door that is more incandescent than ever. I don’t send a fleeting gaze at the pianist, but he tells me it was fun, so there is no burden in my heart. I will remember what song he was waiting to hear from me when I pass though that very door.

“Come visit whenever you can!” The pianist grins. “I’ll be waiting.”

I don’t have a clue as to why he tells me that, but I glance back at the man and smile anyways. For some odd reason, I believe him. Time slows down, as though my brain holds desire to capture a photograph, a keepsake to give me strength for this moment as I watch the pianist evanesce to an unknown, along with his music. Then, after unmeasurable seconds, the melody plays in my head, pulling me out of my idle state. It is somewhat of a balm to my mind, a bud from his flower that blooms tranquility and relief. But the melody collaborates with a ticking noise—a clock—and it rips the flower from me. It implores me to move, echoing louder and louder in my ears.

I don’t hesitate to leave the pianist and head for the door. There is a sadness that briefly washes over me, but I banish it knowing each memory I have with the girl and the pianist will live once more.

I pant as I force myself into the next room in a state of tumult, my hand tingles from grasping the doorknob too tightly. The clock is silenced. The room listens to my footsteps, the clicking of my heels rebounds against the walls, my forced sigh is amplified in the room. I am virtually seeing a replica of the first two rooms, but there is an interesting difference. I stand in a museum of glass displays and scale models that are members of the room, as they share the same aspects and characteristics. Everything holds a masterly transparency—representations of places that feel significant to me.

One especially kidnaps my interest. It is a three-dimensional blueprint of skyscrapers and busy streets—a city perhaps. I approach the defined model, fascinated by its colorless body yet it sprouts to life. It is a home to wide avenues and small areas to sit. There are sky towers in the center and the perimeter is packed with wild spaces and parks. Perhaps what is most enticing is the river that is ever so still, yet something floats on the ravine, it slightly bounces as though the water is alive. It is a red sailboat, a non-colorless object, though I cannot comprehend if it belongs here.

Now, I can hear the cars, the coffee shops, the bicycle chimes, and dogs barking in the distance. It is daytime in this universe, the busy streets roaring amongst the chattering that restaurants and countless other businesses emit. But the water, it trickles and sighs loudly. It’s not so much the river that beckons me, but the red sailboat. Its volume raises and gestures my hand to reach out and—

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you.” I hearken a voice. Immediately, an eerie silence pierces the air. There is a complete absence of sound in my mind. The murmurs disappear, and what’s left is an odd stillness that I am unable to embrace.

In this vast atmosphere, I feel rough cracks through thin soles. There is a breeze that nuzzles my skin and it almost pulls me with it. All at once, the air is heavy like water and I’m drowning in this sea of indifference, but I am not desperate to swim away. Instead, I turn to face the voice, the strings no longer moving against my will. My hands are at my sides, as they should be. Suddenly, I don’t feel distressed or bemused.

Because standing right before me is my puppeteer, and for the first time since I awaken in this realm, I know exactly who this person is. A black pinstripe suit fits his lanky physique, contradicting the theme of the room, providing him a sense of authority. His face is stern, eyes casting over the red sailboat I almost come in contact with. Its movement ceases, as though it blends into the achromatic architecture, but its bright scarlet hue cuts through me, and gradually, the strands that tie me to this man begin to unfasten and loosen from my limbs. The rigidity I have endured now moderately perishes; I am free from a cloud of restriction so thick, I could not see it—and now, only a name manifests in my mind.

“Hyungwon,” I mutter in awe. The whites of my eyes expand as I realize how familiar the name tastes. I stare intently at him, “Why are you here?”

He does not answer me; his expression remains still. He has his thumbs hooked in his pockets as he takes his time advancing towards me. The ticking sound returns, a metronome in my chest. I can feel every single pound in me as my blood runs cold, instantly rushing to my head. This great crash I feel, the pressure—every beat; it thunders in my ears, and I can no longer hear it. This heart beats for the puppeteer, and he knows, because I visualize a fleeting smile from him that only appears for a second. I wonder if by some chance I imagined it.

“Is that for me?” He asks, peering down at my hands.

Perplexed, I follow his gaze to find myself bearing an unorthodox box that occurs from nothing. The metronome smooths itself out; it ticks at a steady pace, like a bomb defusing, and my mind seems unusually clear. There are no threads attached to me, though I don’t feel comfortable in my own body, like I am a different person.  

There is no control over my thoughts when I abruptly tell him, “Yes. This is a present, for you.”

My words are foreign to me, but I am somehow okay with it. I see a glint in his eyes, his full lips twisting into a sinister smile of satisfaction. It fondles with my heart and fills it with a temptation that I cannot understand. The box is then taken from me, and the puppeteer opens the lid.

Inside is a single, minuscule flower with petals of blue—a forget-me-not. It summons a melody that rings in the distance; it bathes me in a warmth of familiarity and a sense of euphoria. The sound of laughter is heard, the voice of a girl, one that I will meet again. I have found where I belong, through the sound of the pianist’s symphony. I burst into laughter along with the magnificent scenary that appears before me. It is the city that has not been built yet. The red sailboat slowly comes into view and I sigh in relief as a surge runs through my torso and the lower half of my body. I prompt myself to take the puppeteer's hand and run towards the pier, where a sunset is exhibited in the distance.

But as I look to the puppeteer, my legs stiffen like lead. I no longer recognize him, and in a split second, my mind awakens in a flurry of emotions. The sound of the waves that courageously roar in the background instantaneously evaporates. I stumble upon thought after thought while I plead my body to budge, but it's no use. My feet decide to plant firmly into the ground, and I can do nothing but watch the puppeteer bury his menacing gaze into mine. Adrenaline floods my system, a scream is ensnared in the back of my throat.

"You failed." I hear the ethereal voice in my head. I can perceive it heavily creeping onto my skin, slowly beginning to alienate me from my physical being, tearing me up piece by piece.

I immediately plummet to the floor, and I cannot feel the last thought of shame—being exposed this vulnerably. A blanket of dullness engulfs me. He makes sure that the message is imprinted on my skin. I soon sense agony scorching throughout my body. It eats away at me like thousands of ants, robbing my ability to cry or screech. All I can do is writhe and feel the puppeteer's grim fervor taking ownership of my body, dominating every thought, and I can no longer feel the sensation that connects me to my conscious.

My body grows feeble and limp. I lose all correspondence to any sort of memory or awareness that is left. It is not long before I fall back into nothing, a simple disassociation.

An eternity passes, and I black out.

[lifesizehysteria]

The Best is Yet to Come | An AdamsFoster Fic

#elitewritingchallege entry number five

Prompt: (Day 29) “Come here”

A/N: This is the continuation of the scene in 3x18 when Stef reveals her haircut to Lena. I’ve been working on this for the better part of a year and it put up one heck of a fight. But it’s finally done and I’m happy with it, even if it didn’t turn out the way I originally planned. Rated M.

A/N: I’m putting this in my queue so at the time of posting, this will not yet be up on FF or AO3. For comments/reviews either reply or head to my inbox. Otherwise, it should be up within the next day or two.

Lena squealed as Stef chased her up the stairs, the echoes of her giggles bouncing off the walls. But on the landing, when she turned and took her wife’s hand, pulling her into their bedroom, the mood shifted. The playfulness fell away and when she turned to face Stef after locking the door behind them, her heart was pounding in her throat. She could feel the tension between them and the weight of the moment, and as she drew Stef closer, Lena flashed back to the first time they’d had sex after losing Frankie.

For the better part of a year she had been repulsed, even just by the thought of sex. It started out as regular grief. But after a while, it had become more physical than emotional. Her body had felt like a burial ground, like she was imprisoned in a place that no longer belonged to her. The thought of sex—of touch and pleasure and eroticism—had felt like a desecration; it was unimaginable. And Stef had been so supportive through it. Never once did she pressure Lena. She just allowed her the space she needed, offering comfort in whatever way she could.

Then, one afternoon when Lena had gone to take a shower, Stef asked if she could join her. It was the casual kind of shower they often took together; just a few moments to be alone with no expectation for it to be anything else. As Stef washed Lena’s body, something she’d done a hundred times, her skin started to feel like her own again. Before Lena had even picked up on it, Stef seemed to notice a change. In response, she had slowed her movements, lingering a little longer on sensitive areas, tracing her fingers along behind the cloth through the soapy water running down her skin. It had been a delicate dance as she peeled back the remaining layers of grief and pain with care, washing them away until Lena was ready. By the time they got out of the shower, they hadn’t shared more than a few languid kisses. But the pathway had been found, buried and overgrown. Stef cleared the rest of the way with slow tenderness and as they made love that afternoon, Lena was reminded that Stef’s arms had always been home.

Now, as Lena pulled her wife in close, she hoped that she had given Stef the same care and consideration through this process. She didn’t know how similar their experiences were but it was the only frame of reference she had to go on. The way Stef talked about her body lately, and her feelings towards it, echoed the way Lena had felt about her own. And she was certain that downstairs just now she had noticed the same shift in her that Stef had picked up on that day in the shower. The one that meant she was ready to forgive her body for its betrayal.

Lena moved her fingers from their home in Stef’s hair, though she knew they’d be back there again soon. She kissed her with soft, parted lips, relieved when Stef fell into rhythm without hesitation. Her hands slid down Stef’s back so she could tug her gray plaid shirt from the waist of her jeans. While Stef’s hands gripped her waist, Lena danced her long fingers beneath the fabric across the small of her back, around her ribs and over her hips, careful to keep her hands in neutral territory.

Stef was so relieved that Lena didn’t hate her hair this short. She would have done it anyway because she needed to. Since the first inconclusive mammogram, everything had been happening to her. Being held captive to life’s terrifying whims, being forced to face her own mortality and take her survival into her own hands in such a drastic way had put something as trivial as a hair cut into perspective. She would survive if she didn’t like it herself. Or if people thought she looked like a dyke. Or even if Lena hated it. It was her body, her decision, and cutting it had given her back a sense of power that she had lost in this process. But she was still self-conscious about her body and despite Lena’s reassurances, Stef couldn’t shake the fear that she wouldn’t find her attractive anymore. So, when Lena couldn’t keep her hands out of her hair and Stef saw the spark of desire in her eyes, so familiar and undeniable, it brought a sense of relief that was about more than just her hair.

The delicate way Lena kissed her was like a beacon through the fog after being lost at sea. For the first time in months, she started to feel like she knew who she was. Not a patient but a person. A woman. Like the body she walked around in was more than a vessel. It belonged to her again. Now, as Lena’s fingers traipsed beneath her shirt, it was like her skin remembered her. As though Lena was waking her after a long, restless sleep and the more she touched, the more Stef’s body opened to her and welcomed her back home.

Lena’s hands left her skin and Stef broke their kiss to look down when she felt the fabric of her shirt flutter against her stomach. Her wife undid the lowest button of her shirt. Stef watched as Lena’s fingers moved up to the next button while Lena’s eyes were on Stef. She took her time, not to tease as she might have another time, but to gauge. With each button she moved slower, waiting for even a flicker of discomfort to cross Stef’s face. But her wife just observed, her face engaged but relaxed, so Lena continued until her shirt hung open to reveal an enticing streak of skin.

When she finished, Stef smiled at her perfect wife and cupped her face in her hand, caressing her thumb over her cheek.

“I’m fine, love.” Her words were hushed with appreciation for Lena’s caution and tenderness as she gave Stef the space to feel vulnerable. It was so nurturing, so full of love, and so Lena. But what Stef needed was not to feel fragile anymore. She’d already felt that way for too long. “You’re not going to break me into a million pieces.”

A tight, self-conscious smile pulled at Lena’s closed lips, worry creasing her brow. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I know,” Stef’s head tilted to one side, a knowing smile making lines around the corners of her eyes. “But it’s okay. I’m ready.” Taking Lena’s face in both her hands, Stef brought her in for another kiss, pouring her gratitude into it so that Lena was sure to feel it.

It was Lena who broke their kiss this time, pulling back so she could look Stef in the eye.

“If you’re uncomfortable or if you want to stop… I want you to tell me, okay?” Lena held her wife’s gaze steady. She needed Stef to know, to really know, that her comfort was the only thing that mattered. Even if she thought she was ready now, there was no point at which she couldn’t change her mind.

“Okay.” The word was quiet but sure. It was acknowledgement and understanding. It was permission. With one single word, Stef tore down the last wall she’d put up to protect herself, allowing Lena behind the final barrier between them.

A smile crept across Lena’s face and, reassured, she ran her hands up the length of Stef’s arms. She pushed her shirt from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor as her own doubts fell away, replaced with the desire she’d been trying to temper. One hand found its way back into her hair as she drew Stef into her and kissed her again, the other hand gliding down to rest over her heart.

The familiarity of Lena’s touch and the way Stef’s body reacted to her was comforting in a way she hadn’t realized she would need. Their kiss was still slow and soft but as tongues joined lips, an undercurrent of heat made her skin tingle. As much as she had feared Lena would no longer find her attractive, she hadn’t realized she was just as afraid that her insecurities about the changes to her body would leave her incapable of desire. Arousal had been so rare and fleeting since her surgery that she was starting to feel broken. But as Lena’s body leaned into her and her fingernails scraped against her scalp, Stef felt the pulse begin between her thighs that assured her everything was working just fine.

Lena’s fingertips began a slow trail down to the upper edge of Stef’s surgical bra. Though the muscles in her neck stiffened, Stef just focused on the way Lena made her feel.

Lena’s fingers inched further along the top edge of the bra until she reached the zipper.

“Is it alright if I take it off?” She looked at Stef, her face soft and free of expectations. “It’s okay if you want to leave it on.”

Stef hesitated for a moment then shook her head.

“It’s okay.” As she watched Lena drag the zipper down the center, she realized that she was desperate to get this part over with.

Lena pushed the garment open and slid it from Stef’s shoulders. She could see the tension in Stef’s rigid back and could feel the anxiety coming from her.

“Can I touch them?” she asked.

“If you want to.”

“I do.”

Stef nodded and Lena raised a tentative hand to the fresh purple scar of one breast. She ran her fingertips, featherlight, over the length of it then repeated the motion on the other side. Glancing up at her, Stef’s face was unreadable. She added a little more pressure and broadened her touch out to the surface of Stef’s breasts, exploring with delicate fingers. The expanders were harder than she expected them to be and still small with only one filling of several that would occur over the coming weeks.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” she asked.

“No,” Stef said, her tone deliberately neutral. “But I also can’t feel it.”

Lena’s hands froze. She worried about how to respond, afraid a wrong reaction would make Stef pull away. After a moment of hesitation, against her initial instinct to remove her hands, she cupped Stef’s breasts and kneaded them, adding more pressure while being careful not to overdo it and hurt her.

“Can you feel this?” Lena asked, letting the smallest sultry note thread into her voice.

The corners of Stef’s closed lips turned up, her face finally softening. “I can.”

As she continued the gentle massage, Lena pressed a few kisses to Stef’s lips.

“Does it bother you that you don’t have a lot of feeling?” Lena asked, one hand sliding down around to the small of Stef’s back while the other grew still between their bodies.

“Not really,” Stef answered with a shrug. “It’s a little weird, I guess, and it would be nice if I got some more back. But I just like that I can still feel you. Even if it’s different.” Stef paused for a moment. “Does it bother you?”

Lena’s eyes turned up to meet Stef’s. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as a familiar glint came to her eyes. Stef had seen that look a thousand times. Mischievous and full of desire, that look meant only one thing and seeing it told Stef everything she needed to know.

“Not at all.” Lena confirmed what Stef already knew before bringing her lips down to join her hand.

She kissed Stef’s scars before venturing out over the rest of her skin. Lena was keenly aware of the amount of vulnerability Stef was showing her by allowing her to touch her body purely for her own pleasure and she didn’t take that for granted. Even in this in-between state, she worshipped these breasts. She didn’t care that they were different. She didn’t care that she would have to learn them and love them in a way that was new. They were Stef’s and she would love them just as she loved every single part of her.

As she explored, every so often Stef would react to her touch and she would linger there, sucking gently, scraping her teeth over it. Giving Stef as much as she could and savoring every second.

Stef watched her and felt a wave of adoration wash over her. She didn’t feel much of what she did. It was almost like feeling it through someone else’s skin, though she felt the firmer kisses in the muscles beneath and the way her fingers pressed harder than normal. But her wife’s arousal was radiating off of her. It was clear she was lost in it as she became acquainted with this new part of Stef’s body and knowing that Lena was getting pleasure out of it made the experience more erotic than Stef ever imagined it could be. She had prepared for her breasts to be something that was just ignored during sex. An awkward afterthought at most. She hadn’t expected this and it filled her with a burning need for her wife. Her love. Her Lena.

Stef drew Lena back up into a deep kiss. She pushed her sweater from her shoulders and Lena finished shrugging out of it. After pulling away just long enough to get her out of her shirt, she then sank back into the embrace, urging it deeper while her cool hands roamed the silky skin of her wife’s warm back.

Lena’s hands dragged down Stef’s body, her fingertips leaving a burning trail in their wake. She tugged at Stef’s belt and shoved her jeans and underwear down her hips before breaking away to slip off her own.

With one arm around her waist, Stef pulled Lena in against her. She kissed her neck; the smell of her so warm and familiar, like home. As she swept her tongue along the peak of her collarbone, Lena’s hands sank back into her hair. Her head tipped back and she sighed through parted lips. Stef kissed and nipped at her neck and shoulders and Lena’s obvious desire made her feel powerful. She had let so much come between them that she had forgotten how good it felt to have Lena so undone by her.

She wanted to lift her and carry her to the bed the way she did whenever she needed to feel strong and in control. She loved the way it made her feel and she knew that Lena loved it, too. But she still wasn’t allowed to lift much weight so she settled for what she could do, urging her wife backwards until the back of her knees hit the bed, forcing her to sit. Standing between her legs, Stef used Lena’s thighs to pull her flush against her. Their lips met again and heat burned between them as they melted into each other.

When Stef plunged her hand into her hair, the tug of her fingers wrapping around the curls at the nape of her neck made Lena’s heart pound harder. This fire was unexpected but she reveled in the flames, soaking up their heat. She gasped when Stef pushed her onto the bed and shivered at the lust in her eyes as she stripped her of her bra and took in the sight of her naked body. It had been far too long since her wife had looked at her like that.

At Stef’s urging, Lena moved back further into the center of the bed. Her pulse raced as her wife spread her legs apart and came to kneel between them. Stef dragged her way up Lena’s body, using her mouth to travel from the top of her dark curls, kissing her belly and hips and ribs, leaving warm, wet trails along her breasts, sucking one of her dark nipples until she drew out a moan. She continued up her chest and neck to nip at the soft underside of her chin, all the way to her lips where she was received with an untamed hunger.

Every inch of Lena’s body smoldered so hot she expected flames to burst from her skin at any moment. No one made her feel the way Stef did. When her attention was on her, it was like Lena was the only woman who existed and she craved that feeling every waking moment. But now, as much as she wanted to bask in it and let Stef take her, a warning bell was sounding. It was too soon. Stef was still healing and Lena knew, just by the intensity of their embrace, that she would overdo it.

She wrapped a leg around Stef’s back, pulling her down against her but when she tried to roll them, Stef resisted. Even after surgery and weeks of inactivity, Lena was no match for her wife’s strength. Her attempt to take control just spurred Stef on. She bit at Lena’s lips and rocked her body against hers, the feeling of her hips moving against the dripping heat between her legs making Lena wonder why she was resisting at all. But Stef’s health took priority, even over the aching want of her own body. Determined, Lena scraped her fingernails through the hair at the back of Stef’s head while pushing her other hand down between them and into Stef’s wet curls. Her wife growled against her lips before pulling back and catching Lena’s wrist.

“Nice try, sweetheart,” Stef muttered, tugging Lena’s hand out from between them. She kissed her wet fingertips before pinning her hand against the mattress above her head. As she lowered her lips to Lena’s jawline, she captured her other hand and pinned it beside the first.

“Stef.”

“Yes, my love?” Stef looked down at her with amusement dancing in her eyes.

“You’re still healing.”

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“I won’t,” she promised and as she dragged her open mouth along the length of her wife’s neck, her hot breath washing over her skin, up to capture her lips again, Lena’s resolve faded. She arched up against her and, against her better judgment, returned her kiss with equal passion.

Stef widened her legs, pushing her pelvis down harder until Lena’s feet came off the mattress. When Lena wrapped her legs around her hips, desire streaked through Stef and she realized what she desperately needed.

“Lena.”

“Yes?” she breathed.

“I want to fuck you.”

Lena’s stomach tightened and she moaned against Stef’s lips. “You mean—”

“Yes.” She kissed Lena again, bruising her lips with the force of it.

“You have to promise that you won’t hurt yourself. That you’ll stop if it’s too much.” Lena pulled away to look at her wife, sobering enough to make her point clear.

“Cross my heart,” Stef muttered, grinning back down at her.

Lena pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth, searching for an ounce of rationality or self-control and coming up empty. “Okay.”

“I’ll be right back,” Stef said, desire already pooling in her stomach as she sat up.

“Stef?” Lena caught Stef’s arm so she looked back at her, eyebrows raised in question. “I want the pink one.”

“Yes, my love.” A crooked smile tilted Stef’s lips as she leaned down to kiss Lena again before sauntering to the bathroom.

When she returned, she donned a black harness fitted with Lena’s requested toy. Lena had moved and was leaning against the pillows in the center of the bed, waiting for Stef with one leg out straight, her other leg bent to reveal the enticing skin of her inner thigh.

Stef couldn’t resist it. Distracted from her original destination by Lena’s long, lean legs, Stef climbed onto the bed and slid her hand up the length of soft brown skin, pushing Lena’s knee to open her hip so she could follow her hand with her mouth.

As Stef devoured her thigh, Lena bent her other leg to make room for her wife between them. She didn’t even know how they’d gotten here. She hadn’t had anything like this in mind when she had made her suggestion downstairs. She had thought they would lie together, maybe make out while Stef got used to letting Lena see and touch her body again. But Stef obviously knew what she needed and that was exactly what she would get.

Electricity coursed through her when Stef moved on to her other leg. Her lips were up at the very top of her thigh, just inches away from the source of the pulsing ache that Lena felt in every inch of her body. Stef’s fingertips grazed over the length of her, so light she would have sworn she imagined it if not for her breath hitching and her back arching as her body searched for more. She pushed her fingers into the hair at the top of Stef’s head and urged her to look at her, lips parted and her eyes heavy with want.

“I thought you wanted to fuck me.”

“I do, sweetheart,” Stef purred.

“Then come here and fuck me.”

Stef raised her eyebrows but didn’t resist as Lena tugged her up to her. She wore a devilish grin as their faces came level, hovering over her desperate lover, just out of reach. She ran her thumb over her lips at the same time as she pushed her knees beneath Lena’s thighs, urging her legs wider.

Lena’s fingers played with the hair at the nape of her neck.

“I’m so glad you like it.”

She dragged her fingernails over her scalp.

“I love it.”

“You’re not going to miss pulling it?” Stef asked, a teasing smile on her lips.

“Not at all,” Lena said, her voice down in her chest as she gripped a handful of blonde hair at the crown of Stef’s head and pulled her down to her.

Their mouths came together. Urgent lips were parted by eager tongues. Warm breath mingled with moans as their hearts beat faster together. Stef anchored her weight on her left arm and brought the other hand down between them. There was no need for more foreplay. Lena was hot and wet, more than ready, so she guided the toy as she pressed her hips down and slid into her.

A shuddered sigh rushed against Stef’s lips as Lena stretched to accommodate her. One hand was still in Stef’s hair, the other arm wrapped around her back, gripping her shoulder. Stef kissed her again as she pulled almost all the way out and pressed back into her, drawing out a throaty moan. She set a steady rhythm, rocking her pelvis up to rub her clit with each stroke.

Lena’s inner muscles worked in time with Stef and every thrust sent an ache of pleasure through her body. She wrapped her legs around Stef’s thighs, urging her deeper. Her head fell to the side, eyes closed, teeth clamped down on her lip. Stef kissed her jaw, beneath her ear, down her neck. She quickened her pace. Their sweat-slick bodies slid against one another, their labored breathing growing louder as Lena’s body began to shake. Her fingernails dug into Stef’s shoulder and just when she was sure it was all too much, she cried out as every muscle in her body tensed with wave after wave of pleasure.

As Lena came down, her body heaving with every breath and her limbs still wrapped around her, Stef relaxed her weight down onto her. It seemed her wife’s concerns hadn’t been unfounded. There was a dull ache in the muscles of her chest but Stef didn’t care. It was well worth it. It wasn’t a terrible pain, anyway. Just soreness from having her weight on her forearms for so long. And she wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not while she was, quite literally, wrapped in Lena’s love.

Stef nuzzled her neck until Lena turned her head and kissed her. A quiet, satisfied hum spilled onto Stef’s lips, making her smile. The fingers of one hand were stroking the hair at the nape of her neck again. It sent a shiver down Stef’s spine. Lena really loved her hair and, somehow, knowing that and knowing how much it turned her on and how much she wanted her was overwhelming. No one had ever wanted her the way Lena wanted her. The way she always had, from the very beginning. Stef realized in that moment, as Lena clung to her, already trying to deepen their embrace again, that she had played as much a part in their recent problems as Lena had. All Lena wanted was for Stef to be present and to see her for all she was.

She saw her now. Everything she had fallen in love with was still there, right in front of her. The way Lena loved with a quiet ferocity. Her devotion to their family and her willingness to sacrifice anything for them. Her tender heart and gentle hands. The passion and fire beneath her calm exterior, hidden by poise and grace but always burning. That fire was what she loved the most. It had drawn her in from the very first moment—bright and glowing in her eyes—and Stef had never been able to look away. In that moment, looking down into that still-burning fire, she vowed to never take her love for granted again.

Lena’s hands gripped Stef’s waist and she kissed her with intent. As much as Stef wanted to continue, the pain in her chest was more persistent than the need pulsing between her thighs. She lightened the kiss before pressing one final, tender kiss to Lena’s lips.

“I think I should probably take it easy, love. But I’ll take a raincheck.” She winked at Lena before pulling out and sitting up. She tugged off the harness and dropped it over the edge of the bed.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Stef reached for the blanket folded at the bottom of the bed, wincing as she did.

“Honey, are you okay?” Lena sat up, worry on her face as she reached for her wife.

“I’m fine. I just overdid it a little.”

Lena let out a frustrated sigh, shaking her head.

“Lay down,” she commanded and Stef knew better than to argue. She laid back as Lena pulled the blanket up over them and then laid down beside her. “I shouldn’t have let you. I knew it was too soon.”

“Honey, I’m fine.” She tilted Lena a look that told her she was overreacting. “I would have stopped before I hurt myself. I’m just a little sore, that’s all.”

“We still should have waited. We—”

“No, don’t.” Stef cut her off. “Don’t regret anything. I’m glad that it happened. I needed it to happen. I needed…” she trailed off, not quite sure of her own feelings. “I needed the proof that my body being… Being different wasn’t going to change anything, that— That we weren’t going to lose us in all of this and that you…” she let the thought hang unspoken.

“That I would still want you,” Lena finished, her words hushed.

Stef dropped her gaze and shrugged one shoulder up to her ear, guilty that she had ever doubted Lena’s love. Lena regarded her with sympathy and understanding, her eyes bright with tenderness.

“Honey, you have nothing to worry about. I love your body. I love your breasts. I loved them before, I love them now, and I will continue to love every form and iteration of them from here on out because they are a part of you.”

“Even with all the scars and the fake nipples and—”

“Yes.” Lena interrupted. “No matter what,” she promised. When Stef didn’t speak, Lena sought out her hand, lacing their fingers together. “Do you remember, after you were shot, how I avoided looking at your scar? And how I had to learn to accept it and to be okay with it?”

Stef nodded, her eyes searching Lena’s as she listened.

“That’s because what it meant scared me. The risk of losing you was still there and the scar was a constant reminder. But these scars—” Lena ran her free hand over the fresh, thick scars of one of Stef’s breasts, “I’ve loved from the very beginning because these are a reminder that you will do anything, sacrifice anything to stay with me.” She brought Stef’s hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to the back, her eyes closed against a sudden wave of emotion. When she looked back up at her wife, her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Thank you.” The sentiment, whispered through her clogged throat, felt inconsequential compared to her overwhelming gratitude but words didn’t exist to express how she felt. Stef was the absolute love of her life and she never wanted to know what losing her would feel like. Just facing the possibility, both times, had almost broken her. If it ever happened… Surely, she would die of a broken heart.

A few tears trickled over the bridge of Lena’s nose and down her cheek, falling onto the pillow. A small, sweet smile pulled at Stef’s lips as she wiped them away.

“I’m not going anywhere, love.” Stef whispered the promise then kissed Lena’s forehead. “If you want to get rid of me, you’ll have to take me out yourself,” she teased, making Lena laugh. “That’s better.” She drew her fingertips down over Lena’s temple to cup her cheek. “I don’t want anymore tears shed for me, got it?” She raised her eyebrows in warning as a grin tugged at her mouth.

Lena nodded and wiped away the remaining tears from her eyes.

“Good.” Stef kissed her and pushed a stray curl away from her face. “Because I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

“For what?”

“For this afternoon. For… for your constant support, through all of this. I know it wasn’t always easy—” Stef’s eyes darted away and she wet her lips, a faint pink coloring her cheeks. “That I wasn’t always easy,” she corrected and looked back at her wife. “But you were right by my side the whole time and I’m so… so grateful. For everything. For you loving me. Even when I’m bullheaded and stubborn. For everything you do for our family. And most of all, for you accepting me exactly as I am, even when I struggle to accept myself.”

Lena’s lips turned up in a tender smile. “I just want you to see yourself as the incredible woman I see every day instead of focusing on the things you think are flaws. Because I love all of those things, too.” Lena held Stef’s gaze, not letting her escape the honest praise, even as her ears burned red. “You have always been everything I want. And you always will be.”

Stef’s chest tightened and the itch of tears pricked at the back of her eyes. Lena’s love was everything and sometimes, especially when life got tough, she needed the reminder that she loved her, flaws and all. But after the intensity and vulnerability of the afternoon, it was too much. With no more words to express her love, she tilted Lena’s chin up with the fingers of one hand, and kissed her. Whether or not it was enough, it was all she had left to give.

They laid together in silence with their foreheads resting together, legs entwined, wrapped in each other’s arms. She was just on the edge of sleep when Lena untangling herself from her grip pulled her back awake. She grunted her dissatisfaction and held on tighter.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Lena said as she let Stef tug her back, dropping her face down into the crook of her neck. “I’d love to stay but someone’s got to feed the kids.”

“Can’t they fend for themselves?” Stef whined. “They’re old enough.”

“Their idea of fending for themselves is ordering pizza with our debit card.” Lena dusted a few lazy kisses along Stef’s neck and shoulder. “Do you remember how much pizza Jesús can eat?”

Stef groaned and flopped onto her back, her mouth pursed in a pout that could rival Mariana’s best. “Damn those kids.”

Lena chuckled as she stood and gathered their clothes from the floor. She tossed Stef’s onto the bed beside her then began pulling her own back on.

“Do you need help getting dressed?”

Stef shook her head. “I’m fine, love. There’s no need to fuss.”

Lena looked unconvinced as she shrugged back into her sweater and crossed over to her wife, who winced again as she maneuvered back into her bra. Picking Stef’s shirt up from the bed, she helped guide it on, ignoring the way Stef rolled her eyes.

“I want you to try to sleep until dinner’s ready. Are your pain meds up here or downstairs?”

“I don’t need pain meds and I don’t need to stay in bed,” Stef said as Lena began buttoning her shirt.

“Stef—”

“Lena.” Stef took hold of her wife’s hands, pulling them away from her shirt and holding them down by their hips. When Lena looked up at her, the stubbornness in her eyes turned Stef’s annoyance into endearment and a smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. “I know you’re worried and I love that you want to take care of me but I’m fine. I’m just a little sore, that’s it. Nothing a couple of Advil can’t fix. So, please, stop worrying. If I need something, you’ll be the first to know. Promise.” Lena pursed her lips but sighed and shook her head. “Okay. I’m sorry. But I still want you to lay down and rest for a bit before dinner.”

Stef looked poised to argue but closed her mouth when Lena raised her eyebrows. “Fine,” she conceded. “But after that, no more fussing.”

Lena nodded. “No more fussing.”

Stef took Lena’s face in her hands and kissed her with a smile on her lips. “Now, go feed the hungry masses before they revolt.”

Lena rolled her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now, go,” Stef insisted, giving Lena’s hips a gentle push backwards and pointing toward the door.

“Alright, alright!” Lena stepped back as Stef sat down on the edge of the bed, finishing the buttons on her shirt. “But I don’t want to see you downstairs until dinner is ready.”

“Lena.” Stef shot her a deadly look that only just covered her amusement.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’m going!” With her hands up in surrender, Lena backed up around the bed. When she reached the door she looked back over her shoulder at her wife who was smiling as she laid back down, and her mind drifted back to her earlier thoughts. Maybe this hadn’t been as much like that afternoon in the shower as she’d thought it would be. Maybe they hadn’t needed the same things. But Stef had gotten what she needed and that was all that mattered. What did feel the same was Lena’s sureness in knowing that no matter what darkness they faced, as long as they kept chasing the sun, there would always be light on the horizon. Even if sometimes they had to carry each other along the way.

[writer59january13]

Earth Day 2021 – Thursday April 22

POETIC PREFACE:

An inner conflict dust brew

within this scribe, who offers ye to chew (like sweet treats metaphorically) thee do tee incumbent, when Doomsday clock

counts down minutes few

according Al Gore rhythm

unstoppably ticking,

when life gets turned to global goo

tenderized viz Doctor Zeus if not Horton Hears Hoo

then most definitely The Lorax

(couching urgent morals underscored

by satellite photographs showing melting ice caps or igloo,

which planetary sos, sans in extremis

requires joint effort of Gentile and Jew,

plus every other sectarian credo,

dogma, ethos, faith...knew clear family, and whatnot

to become linkedin with Linda Loo

yes, we moost not forget

Old MacDonald with his moo

moo there bovine creatures

agedly hobbling along, or new

lee born, cuz juiced one day per three hundred and sixty five

(six with leap year -

imagine dragons festooned leotard

with brand name Oroblu)

or poor ole Winnie The Pooh

eternally stuck in Rabbit's

hole sum Hutch as a queue

doth loosely form dreaming up and rue

mien hating solution to eradicate toxins humankind doth spew into the atmosphere

(burning the midnight oil) true lee trying to remedy plight

of said bear character,

perhaps unstated message being woo king in tandem solutions to resolve

wretched condition of world wide web

possible by bridging differences

between me and you, and you, and you...

Earth Day 2021 – Thursday April 22

Every day ought

necessitate reverence towards Gaia

a vibrant living and breathing planet entity

experiencing upon her land and seas.

Bajillion banshees scream bloody murder methought

upon Biblical (lionized) forebears stalking heads

birthed courtesy accursed beasts hood besought

winds howl across the oblate spheroid

methinks courtesy Homo sapiens horror wrought.

Climate change/global warming siren song

Adam event since time immemorial against sacred covenant doing Mother Nature wrong

April 22nd waning hours warn us King Kong

antithetical, egotistical, & heretical caretakers

over populated quintessential rowdy sinning

rawbit & powdermilk biscuit munching throng.

Antiestablishmentarian gambit voiced, I tootle

(albeit figuratively), and feign playing trumpet

challenging when born with submucous palate

lamely feeble attempt made tinkering with words

aware crushing humanity legacy takes Herculean

effort to implement global revolution, staging and

coaching proselytizers to shine klieg lights where

industrialization tattooed unseemly sights land

once (unimaginably) pristine acres irrevocably

repurposed into grotesque disfigured terra firma.

Fifty one years ago come

(The First Earth Day in April 22nd, 1970)

courtesy Senator Gaylord Nelson

orchestrated first metaphorical telescoping lens zooming close

far more horrible than "fake" special effects we

as collective species impacted planet harkening

back when nasty, short and brutish proto humans

mastered steely ironic mettle to fell one after tree

after another, I need not axe the question if queasy

induced state imagined envisioning yourself, née

Pandora's box (purported inventiveness) suddenly vaulted and unhinged inkling,

when beastie boys plus goo

goo dolls loosed goods no longer under lock and key

i.e. raw materials to fashion, whatever struck fancy

re: innately "gifted" descendent afforded momentary

recognition (nameless naked apes) that hit upon idea

way manifold generations before iconic light bulb lit

western civilization taming current of (ohm my dog)

flow of electrons to supply amply charging electricity

countless intervenvening millennium one after another

survival of the fittest likely accidentally melded insight

with (then) near infinite natural resources labored away.

Unbeknownst, when chance cerebral serendipity gave way

where inchoate deliberation, how ardent smarts applied today

gave dawn of consciousness quantum leap launching landlubbers

thrust into the seven seas eventually marshalling routes to unknown, nevertheless pirated quay

zee whirled wide watery web long ago hushing nay

saying doubting Thomas

(English muffin chomping chap),

especially at financing

and cost courtesy bourgeoisie

the same old bay...

sic yacht ta yacht ta yacht ta.

[pattersondonaldblk5]

Smart Luggage Eases Travel; Strict Industry Regulation Could Jeopardize the Market

Ever since internet was introduced to the world, it has undergone startling evolution. What began by connecting institutions and businesses for efficient work, no connects everything from our bodies, homes, communities to goods and services and our whole ecosystem. All of these factors are a enough for a ‘perfect storm’- read: Internet of Things (IoT), which has nearly engulfed every ‘thing’ and changed the way we live over the next decade. IoT’s unimaginable vast network where people-to-people, people-to-things, and things-to-things are connected, our living ecosystem is fundamentally changing because not just how decisions are taken, but who makes them and where are those decisions taken will impact our work and homes.

Among other connected things including the buildings we live in, products we buy, the food we eat, the room we sleep in, our food and the soil we grow- everything potentially a part of IoT, key leaders involved in the IoT technology development are looking at the next important step- Smart Luggage . Whether traveling by rail or flight, travelers always have to be careful with their luggage as the fear of bags being stolen, mislaid or harmed in any way always exists.

Smart Luggage Means Never Having to Worry about Your Bags Ever Again

Tag, Track and, Locate: Though carryon baggage lets travelers skip the queue, checking in those bags is time consuming and labor intensive task, as travelers need to print tags, secure them to their bags and drop-off at the check in counters. In a bid to simplify this process, a Germany-based luggage manufacturer rolled out a range of suitcases that comes with an embedded E Ink display. Same size as the standard paper luggage tag, E Ink display gathers data from either supported airline mobile application or the manufacturer’s own app. The airline app then have to simply use its check-in feature and sync it with the electronic tag- helping the airline to drop-off luggage at the dedicated airport counter. The luggage manufacturer also claims that its own app can also be used for initiation as well as switching the tag to contact information mode – making the E Ink display useful even if the airlines or airports do not support electronic tags. Presently available at available at Munich, Hamburg and Frankfurt airports, smart luggage tags have major potential.

Missing or permanently lost baggage are a nightmare for travelers. The feeling is sinking to say the least. With advanced IoT based solutions, travelers would never have to worry about losing their bags. With the help of radio frequency identification (RFID) technology, data stored in the smart luggage tags can be consistently and accurately captured by scanners utilizing radio waves. This makes way for simple and effective tracking. Travelers are literally omnipresent with their bags at all times- ensuring they have made it on to the plane and unloaded at the other ‘relevant’ final destination. The RFID technology- likely to be used at 344 airports around the world with a success rate of 99.9% after numerous trials coupled with management reporting systems- will make baggage handling efficient.

Secure with a Lock: Considering how easy it is to lock luggage and lose the key to it or forget passwords, advanced ways to smart lock luggage are in contention. Among the contenders: locks that allows users to easily unlock the luggage through a tap on their smartphones, locking and unlocking using fingerprint ID, smart baggage locks with GPS that would enable travelers to check on their bag and ensure it is still locked along with real-time along with notifications when the bag is loaded onto a plane. The smart luggage locks uses Near Field Communication (NFC) NFC and a battery or at times smart locks can also be accessed using a pre-paired NFC smart sticker– that travelers can put in their wallet, in case of non-availability of an NFC-enabled device.

Knock off Weighty-issues: Ceiling on baggage weight is the biggest gripe for flyers. While manufacturers have made advancements in materials and design along with other features such as GPS tracking, many players are beginning to take a hold and have come up with smart inbuilt scale that would indicate- on the phone screen the luggage’s weight- on pulling the handle of the suitcase and if it meets the airline’s baggage requirements.

Remote-controlled Smart Wheels: Even those most luggage have wheels attached to them, travelers still have to trawl it. To further enhance the traveler experience and more it less harrowing, smart luggage that does not need trailing are doing rounds. These smart luggage, having wheels can be controlled by a remote.

Additionally, to get the smart luggage game even more high-tech, a groundbreaking ‘seeing’ suitcase was introduced in the smart luggage market last month, and is billed as the world’s first ever ‘vision-powered carry-on’. Powered by ‘Computer Vision’, the luxury smart luggage recognizes its user and analyzes surroundings. The suitcase is designed to move alongside its user at the speed of 6 mph in “Side Follow” mode. And, in case of an obstruction, the suitcase will stop, drop back and follow from behind.

Smart Luggage That Convert into Beds, Kitchen, and Offices?

Did you ever want to have a bed, kitchen and, work station all combined in your luggage? The answer is in a suitcase that the world welcomed last month, designed by an Australian-born designer. The smart luggage made of aluminum and wood exterior and leather interiors– come in various designs. The smart suitcase can be converted into a work desk and a sleeping bag- with cushions and side frames to keep accessories and belongings. In the next phase, the company is also set to launch a series of smart, luxurious suitcase that will work as a kitchen with foldable chopping table, mini fridge, built-in power supply and drawers for cutlery.

Are Smart Luggage Secure? Multiple Bans, Poor Enforcement, Information Theft to Decelerate Market

The smart luggage is in for some challenges after the US airlines put a ban on lithium-ion batteries. These batteries are what make a luggage ‘smart’- is highly inflammable and could cause a fire break mid-flight. Although, Lithium-ion batteries present in devices like laptops and suitcases are acceptable, the ones present in smart luggage are not owing to the fact that these are often pushed in the overhead cabin. However, to ease this ban, airlines are allowing travelers to carry such smart luggage only after removing the batteries. But this raises two issues: firstly, removing batteries can be an extremely difficult task as it would involve a lot of unscrewing and wire snipping of the smart luggage, and secondly it would be stripped off its ‘smart’ functionality, reducing it to a regular luggage. The ban went in full effect starting early this year leaving a number of companies in a tough spot.  However, poor implementation of this ban- wherein TSA- approved smart luggage are allowed, could add to the pain of manufacturers and could be a major drawback for the smart luggage market, restraining people from buying one. Travelers will be allowed to carry on or check in their smart luggage as long it has removable battery.

Owing to connectivity issues, feasibility of smart luggage is limited to only airports and is expected to be one of the major areas of concern. Additionally, since these products have wires, screws, battery chargers and RFID tags often confuse TSA scanners. Also, security factors such as theft of personal and confidential data including travel itinerary are expected to slow down the smart luggage market growth.

This fallout has definitely affected the smart luggage market and if the restrictions continue, many other smart luggage manufacturers will either start looking for new technological advancements or fold entirely. Although, some manufacturers have already started making onboard batteries modular instead of integrated ones, the full potential of smart luggage is yet to be realized.

https://ift.tt/2v0iNko

[waltercostellone]

Smart Luggage Eases Travel; Strict Industry Regulation Could Jeopardize the Market

Ever since internet was introduced to the world, it has undergone startling evolution. What began by connecting institutions and businesses for efficient work, no connects everything from our bodies, homes, communities to goods and services and our whole ecosystem. All of these factors are a enough for a ‘perfect storm’- read: Internet of Things (IoT), which has nearly engulfed every ‘thing’ and changed the way we live over the next decade. IoT’s unimaginable vast network where people-to-people, people-to-things, and things-to-things are connected, our living ecosystem is fundamentally changing because not just how decisions are taken, but who makes them and where are those decisions taken will impact our work and homes.

Among other connected things including the buildings we live in, products we buy, the food we eat, the room we sleep in, our food and the soil we grow- everything potentially a part of IoT, key leaders involved in the IoT technology development are looking at the next important step- Smart Luggage . Whether traveling by rail or flight, travelers always have to be careful with their luggage as the fear of bags being stolen, mislaid or harmed in any way always exists.

Smart Luggage Means Never Having to Worry about Your Bags Ever Again

Tag, Track and, Locate: Though carryon baggage lets travelers skip the queue, checking in those bags is time consuming and labor intensive task, as travelers need to print tags, secure them to their bags and drop-off at the check in counters. In a bid to simplify this process, a Germany-based luggage manufacturer rolled out a range of suitcases that comes with an embedded E Ink display. Same size as the standard paper luggage tag, E Ink display gathers data from either supported airline mobile application or the manufacturer’s own app. The airline app then have to simply use its check-in feature and sync it with the electronic tag- helping the airline to drop-off luggage at the dedicated airport counter. The luggage manufacturer also claims that its own app can also be used for initiation as well as switching the tag to contact information mode – making the E Ink display useful even if the airlines or airports do not support electronic tags. Presently available at available at Munich, Hamburg and Frankfurt airports, smart luggage tags have major potential.

Missing or permanently lost baggage are a nightmare for travelers. The feeling is sinking to say the least. With advanced IoT based solutions, travelers would never have to worry about losing their bags. With the help of radio frequency identification (RFID) technology, data stored in the smart luggage tags can be consistently and accurately captured by scanners utilizing radio waves. This makes way for simple and effective tracking. Travelers are literally omnipresent with their bags at all times- ensuring they have made it on to the plane and unloaded at the other ‘relevant’ final destination. The RFID technology- likely to be used at 344 airports around the world with a success rate of 99.9% after numerous trials coupled with management reporting systems- will make baggage handling efficient.

Secure with a Lock: Considering how easy it is to lock luggage and lose the key to it or forget passwords, advanced ways to smart lock luggage are in contention. Among the contenders: locks that allows users to easily unlock the luggage through a tap on their smartphones, locking and unlocking using fingerprint ID, smart baggage locks with GPS that would enable travelers to check on their bag and ensure it is still locked along with real-time along with notifications when the bag is loaded onto a plane. The smart luggage locks uses Near Field Communication (NFC) NFC and a battery or at times smart locks can also be accessed using a pre-paired NFC smart sticker– that travelers can put in their wallet, in case of non-availability of an NFC-enabled device.

Knock off Weighty-issues: Ceiling on baggage weight is the biggest gripe for flyers. While manufacturers have made advancements in materials and design along with other features such as GPS tracking, many players are beginning to take a hold and have come up with smart inbuilt scale that would indicate- on the phone screen the luggage’s weight- on pulling the handle of the suitcase and if it meets the airline’s baggage requirements.

Remote-controlled Smart Wheels: Even those most luggage have wheels attached to them, travelers still have to trawl it. To further enhance the traveler experience and more it less harrowing, smart luggage that does not need trailing are doing rounds. These smart luggage, having wheels can be controlled by a remote.

Additionally, to get the smart luggage game even more high-tech, a groundbreaking ‘seeing’ suitcase was introduced in the smart luggage market last month, and is billed as the world’s first ever ‘vision-powered carry-on’. Powered by ‘Computer Vision’, the luxury smart luggage recognizes its user and analyzes surroundings. The suitcase is designed to move alongside its user at the speed of 6 mph in “Side Follow” mode. And, in case of an obstruction, the suitcase will stop, drop back and follow from behind.

Smart Luggage That Convert into Beds, Kitchen, and Offices?

Did you ever want to have a bed, kitchen and, work station all combined in your luggage? The answer is in a suitcase that the world welcomed last month, designed by an Australian-born designer. The smart luggage made of aluminum and wood exterior and leather interiors– come in various designs. The smart suitcase can be converted into a work desk and a sleeping bag- with cushions and side frames to keep accessories and belongings. In the next phase, the company is also set to launch a series of smart, luxurious suitcase that will work as a kitchen with foldable chopping table, mini fridge, built-in power supply and drawers for cutlery.

Are Smart Luggage Secure? Multiple Bans, Poor Enforcement, Information Theft to Decelerate Market

The smart luggage is in for some challenges after the US airlines put a ban on lithium-ion batteries. These batteries are what make a luggage ‘smart’- is highly inflammable and could cause a fire break mid-flight. Although, Lithium-ion batteries present in devices like laptops and suitcases are acceptable, the ones present in smart luggage are not owing to the fact that these are often pushed in the overhead cabin. However, to ease this ban, airlines are allowing travelers to carry such smart luggage only after removing the batteries. But this raises two issues: firstly, removing batteries can be an extremely difficult task as it would involve a lot of unscrewing and wire snipping of the smart luggage, and secondly it would be stripped off its ‘smart’ functionality, reducing it to a regular luggage. The ban went in full effect starting early this year leaving a number of companies in a tough spot.  However, poor implementation of this ban- wherein TSA- approved smart luggage are allowed, could add to the pain of manufacturers and could be a major drawback for the smart luggage market, restraining people from buying one. Travelers will be allowed to carry on or check in their smart luggage as long it has removable battery.

Owing to connectivity issues, feasibility of smart luggage is limited to only airports and is expected to be one of the major areas of concern. Additionally, since these products have wires, screws, battery chargers and RFID tags often confuse TSA scanners. Also, security factors such as theft of personal and confidential data including travel itinerary are expected to slow down the smart luggage market growth.

This fallout has definitely affected the smart luggage market and if the restrictions continue, many other smart luggage manufacturers will either start looking for new technological advancements or fold entirely. Although, some manufacturers have already started making onboard batteries modular instead of integrated ones, the full potential of smart luggage is yet to be realized.

https://ift.tt/2v0iNko

[mosspatchwriter]

Some Tags

Like Moss to a Tree {General} Murmuring from the Moss {Briar} Whispers and Conversations of Moss {Book Commentary} Scorched Earth Policy {Negative} Like Mosses After Rain {Prompt} Knight’s Plume {Prompt Response} Goblin’s Gold {Original} Locks are for the Unimaginative {Queue}

[aracecvliwest]

Smart Luggage Eases Travel; Strict Industry Regulation Could Jeopardize the Market

Ever since internet was introduced to the world, it has undergone startling evolution. What began by connecting institutions and businesses for efficient work, no connects everything from our bodies, homes, communities to goods and services and our whole ecosystem. All of these factors are a enough for a ‘perfect storm’- read: Internet of Things (IoT), which has nearly engulfed every ‘thing’ and changed the way we live over the next decade. IoT’s unimaginable vast network where people-to-people, people-to-things, and things-to-things are connected, our living ecosystem is fundamentally changing because not just how decisions are taken, but who makes them and where are those decisions taken will impact our work and homes.

Among other connected things including the buildings we live in, products we buy, the food we eat, the room we sleep in, our food and the soil we grow- everything potentially a part of IoT, key leaders involved in the IoT technology development are looking at the next important step- Smart Luggage . Whether traveling by rail or flight, travelers always have to be careful with their luggage as the fear of bags being stolen, mislaid or harmed in any way always exists.

Smart Luggage Means Never Having to Worry about Your Bags Ever Again

Tag, Track and, Locate: Though carryon baggage lets travelers skip the queue, checking in those bags is time consuming and labor intensive task, as travelers need to print tags, secure them to their bags and drop-off at the check in counters. In a bid to simplify this process, a Germany-based luggage manufacturer rolled out a range of suitcases that comes with an embedded E Ink display. Same size as the standard paper luggage tag, E Ink display gathers data from either supported airline mobile application or the manufacturer’s own app. The airline app then have to simply use its check-in feature and sync it with the electronic tag- helping the airline to drop-off luggage at the dedicated airport counter. The luggage manufacturer also claims that its own app can also be used for initiation as well as switching the tag to contact information mode – making the E Ink display useful even if the airlines or airports do not support electronic tags. Presently available at available at Munich, Hamburg and Frankfurt airports, smart luggage tags have major potential.

Missing or permanently lost baggage are a nightmare for travelers. The feeling is sinking to say the least. With advanced IoT based solutions, travelers would never have to worry about losing their bags. With the help of radio frequency identification (RFID) technology, data stored in the smart luggage tags can be consistently and accurately captured by scanners utilizing radio waves. This makes way for simple and effective tracking. Travelers are literally omnipresent with their bags at all times- ensuring they have made it on to the plane and unloaded at the other ‘relevant’ final destination. The RFID technology- likely to be used at 344 airports around the world with a success rate of 99.9% after numerous trials coupled with management reporting systems- will make baggage handling efficient.

Secure with a Lock: Considering how easy it is to lock luggage and lose the key to it or forget passwords, advanced ways to smart lock luggage are in contention. Among the contenders: locks that allows users to easily unlock the luggage through a tap on their smartphones, locking and unlocking using fingerprint ID, smart baggage locks with GPS that would enable travelers to check on their bag and ensure it is still locked along with real-time along with notifications when the bag is loaded onto a plane. The smart luggage locks uses Near Field Communication (NFC) NFC and a battery or at times smart locks can also be accessed using a pre-paired NFC smart sticker– that travelers can put in their wallet, in case of non-availability of an NFC-enabled device.

Knock off Weighty-issues: Ceiling on baggage weight is the biggest gripe for flyers. While manufacturers have made advancements in materials and design along with other features such as GPS tracking, many players are beginning to take a hold and have come up with smart inbuilt scale that would indicate- on the phone screen the luggage’s weight- on pulling the handle of the suitcase and if it meets the airline’s baggage requirements.

Remote-controlled Smart Wheels: Even those most luggage have wheels attached to them, travelers still have to trawl it. To further enhance the traveler experience and more it less harrowing, smart luggage that does not need trailing are doing rounds. These smart luggage, having wheels can be controlled by a remote.

Additionally, to get the smart luggage game even more high-tech, a groundbreaking ‘seeing’ suitcase was introduced in the smart luggage market last month, and is billed as the world’s first ever ‘vision-powered carry-on’. Powered by ‘Computer Vision’, the luxury smart luggage recognizes its user and analyzes surroundings. The suitcase is designed to move alongside its user at the speed of 6 mph in “Side Follow” mode. And, in case of an obstruction, the suitcase will stop, drop back and follow from behind.

Smart Luggage That Convert into Beds, Kitchen, and Offices?

Did you ever want to have a bed, kitchen and, work station all combined in your luggage? The answer is in a suitcase that the world welcomed last month, designed by an Australian-born designer. The smart luggage made of aluminum and wood exterior and leather interiors– come in various designs. The smart suitcase can be converted into a work desk and a sleeping bag- with cushions and side frames to keep accessories and belongings. In the next phase, the company is also set to launch a series of smart, luxurious suitcase that will work as a kitchen with foldable chopping table, mini fridge, built-in power supply and drawers for cutlery.

Are Smart Luggage Secure? Multiple Bans, Poor Enforcement, Information Theft to Decelerate Market

The smart luggage is in for some challenges after the US airlines put a ban on lithium-ion batteries. These batteries are what make a luggage ‘smart’- is highly inflammable and could cause a fire break mid-flight. Although, Lithium-ion batteries present in devices like laptops and suitcases are acceptable, the ones present in smart luggage are not owing to the fact that these are often pushed in the overhead cabin. However, to ease this ban, airlines are allowing travelers to carry such smart luggage only after removing the batteries. But this raises two issues: firstly, removing batteries can be an extremely difficult task as it would involve a lot of unscrewing and wire snipping of the smart luggage, and secondly it would be stripped off its ‘smart’ functionality, reducing it to a regular luggage. The ban went in full effect starting early this year leaving a number of companies in a tough spot.  However, poor implementation of this ban- wherein TSA- approved smart luggage are allowed, could add to the pain of manufacturers and could be a major drawback for the smart luggage market, restraining people from buying one. Travelers will be allowed to carry on or check in their smart luggage as long it has removable battery.

Owing to connectivity issues, feasibility of smart luggage is limited to only airports and is expected to be one of the major areas of concern. Additionally, since these products have wires, screws, battery chargers and RFID tags often confuse TSA scanners. Also, security factors such as theft of personal and confidential data including travel itinerary are expected to slow down the smart luggage market growth.

This fallout has definitely affected the smart luggage market and if the restrictions continue, many other smart luggage manufacturers will either start looking for new technological advancements or fold entirely. Although, some manufacturers have already started making onboard batteries modular instead of integrated ones, the full potential of smart luggage is yet to be realized.

https://ift.tt/2v0iNko

[mariaaklnthony]

Smart Luggage Eases Travel; Strict Industry Regulation Could Jeopardize the Market

Ever since internet was introduced to the world, it has undergone startling evolution. What began by connecting institutions and businesses for efficient work, no connects everything from our bodies, homes, communities to goods and services and our whole ecosystem. All of these factors are a enough for a ‘perfect storm’- read: Internet of Things (IoT), which has nearly engulfed every ‘thing’ and changed the way we live over the next decade. IoT’s unimaginable vast network where people-to-people, people-to-things, and things-to-things are connected, our living ecosystem is fundamentally changing because not just how decisions are taken, but who makes them and where are those decisions taken will impact our work and homes.

Among other connected things including the buildings we live in, products we buy, the food we eat, the room we sleep in, our food and the soil we grow- everything potentially a part of IoT, key leaders involved in the IoT technology development are looking at the next important step- Smart Luggage . Whether traveling by rail or flight, travelers always have to be careful with their luggage as the fear of bags being stolen, mislaid or harmed in any way always exists.

Smart Luggage Means Never Having to Worry about Your Bags Ever Again

Tag, Track and, Locate: Though carryon baggage lets travelers skip the queue, checking in those bags is time consuming and labor intensive task, as travelers need to print tags, secure them to their bags and drop-off at the check in counters. In a bid to simplify this process, a Germany-based luggage manufacturer rolled out a range of suitcases that comes with an embedded E Ink display. Same size as the standard paper luggage tag, E Ink display gathers data from either supported airline mobile application or the manufacturer’s own app. The airline app then have to simply use its check-in feature and sync it with the electronic tag- helping the airline to drop-off luggage at the dedicated airport counter. The luggage manufacturer also claims that its own app can also be used for initiation as well as switching the tag to contact information mode – making the E Ink display useful even if the airlines or airports do not support electronic tags. Presently available at available at Munich, Hamburg and Frankfurt airports, smart luggage tags have major potential.

Missing or permanently lost baggage are a nightmare for travelers. The feeling is sinking to say the least. With advanced IoT based solutions, travelers would never have to worry about losing their bags. With the help of radio frequency identification (RFID) technology, data stored in the smart luggage tags can be consistently and accurately captured by scanners utilizing radio waves. This makes way for simple and effective tracking. Travelers are literally omnipresent with their bags at all times- ensuring they have made it on to the plane and unloaded at the other ‘relevant’ final destination. The RFID technology- likely to be used at 344 airports around the world with a success rate of 99.9% after numerous trials coupled with management reporting systems- will make baggage handling efficient.

Secure with a Lock: Considering how easy it is to lock luggage and lose the key to it or forget passwords, advanced ways to smart lock luggage are in contention. Among the contenders: locks that allows users to easily unlock the luggage through a tap on their smartphones, locking and unlocking using fingerprint ID, smart baggage locks with GPS that would enable travelers to check on their bag and ensure it is still locked along with real-time along with notifications when the bag is loaded onto a plane. The smart luggage locks uses Near Field Communication (NFC) NFC and a battery or at times smart locks can also be accessed using a pre-paired NFC smart sticker– that travelers can put in their wallet, in case of non-availability of an NFC-enabled device.

Knock off Weighty-issues: Ceiling on baggage weight is the biggest gripe for flyers. While manufacturers have made advancements in materials and design along with other features such as GPS tracking, many players are beginning to take a hold and have come up with smart inbuilt scale that would indicate- on the phone screen the luggage’s weight- on pulling the handle of the suitcase and if it meets the airline’s baggage requirements.

Remote-controlled Smart Wheels: Even those most luggage have wheels attached to them, travelers still have to trawl it. To further enhance the traveler experience and more it less harrowing, smart luggage that does not need trailing are doing rounds. These smart luggage, having wheels can be controlled by a remote.

Additionally, to get the smart luggage game even more high-tech, a groundbreaking ‘seeing’ suitcase was introduced in the smart luggage market last month, and is billed as the world’s first ever ‘vision-powered carry-on’. Powered by ‘Computer Vision’, the luxury smart luggage recognizes its user and analyzes surroundings. The suitcase is designed to move alongside its user at the speed of 6 mph in “Side Follow” mode. And, in case of an obstruction, the suitcase will stop, drop back and follow from behind.

Smart Luggage That Convert into Beds, Kitchen, and Offices?

Did you ever want to have a bed, kitchen and, work station all combined in your luggage? The answer is in a suitcase that the world welcomed last month, designed by an Australian-born designer. The smart luggage made of aluminum and wood exterior and leather interiors– come in various designs. The smart suitcase can be converted into a work desk and a sleeping bag- with cushions and side frames to keep accessories and belongings. In the next phase, the company is also set to launch a series of smart, luxurious suitcase that will work as a kitchen with foldable chopping table, mini fridge, built-in power supply and drawers for cutlery.

Are Smart Luggage Secure? Multiple Bans, Poor Enforcement, Information Theft to Decelerate Market

The smart luggage is in for some challenges after the US airlines put a ban on lithium-ion batteries. These batteries are what make a luggage ‘smart’- is highly inflammable and could cause a fire break mid-flight. Although, Lithium-ion batteries present in devices like laptops and suitcases are acceptable, the ones present in smart luggage are not owing to the fact that these are often pushed in the overhead cabin. However, to ease this ban, airlines are allowing travelers to carry such smart luggage only after removing the batteries. But this raises two issues: firstly, removing batteries can be an extremely difficult task as it would involve a lot of unscrewing and wire snipping of the smart luggage, and secondly it would be stripped off its ‘smart’ functionality, reducing it to a regular luggage. The ban went in full effect starting early this year leaving a number of companies in a tough spot.  However, poor implementation of this ban- wherein TSA- approved smart luggage are allowed, could add to the pain of manufacturers and could be a major drawback for the smart luggage market, restraining people from buying one. Travelers will be allowed to carry on or check in their smart luggage as long it has removable battery.

Owing to connectivity issues, feasibility of smart luggage is limited to only airports and is expected to be one of the major areas of concern. Additionally, since these products have wires, screws, battery chargers and RFID tags often confuse TSA scanners. Also, security factors such as theft of personal and confidential data including travel itinerary are expected to slow down the smart luggage market growth.

This fallout has definitely affected the smart luggage market and if the restrictions continue, many other smart luggage manufacturers will either start looking for new technological advancements or fold entirely. Although, some manufacturers have already started making onboard batteries modular instead of integrated ones, the full potential of smart luggage is yet to be realized.

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[dustinwootenne]

Smart Luggage Eases Travel; Strict Industry Regulation Could Jeopardize the Market

Ever since internet was introduced to the world, it has undergone startling evolution. What began by connecting institutions and businesses for efficient work, no connects everything from our bodies, homes, communities to goods and services and our whole ecosystem. All of these factors are a enough for a ‘perfect storm’- read: Internet of Things (IoT), which has nearly engulfed every ‘thing’ and changed the way we live over the next decade. IoT’s unimaginable vast network where people-to-people, people-to-things, and things-to-things are connected, our living ecosystem is fundamentally changing because not just how decisions are taken, but who makes them and where are those decisions taken will impact our work and homes.

Among other connected things including the buildings we live in, products we buy, the food we eat, the room we sleep in, our food and the soil we grow- everything potentially a part of IoT, key leaders involved in the IoT technology development are looking at the next important step- Smart Luggage . Whether traveling by rail or flight, travelers always have to be careful with their luggage as the fear of bags being stolen, mislaid or harmed in any way always exists.

Smart Luggage Means Never Having to Worry about Your Bags Ever Again

Tag, Track and, Locate: Though carryon baggage lets travelers skip the queue, checking in those bags is time consuming and labor intensive task, as travelers need to print tags, secure them to their bags and drop-off at the check in counters. In a bid to simplify this process, a Germany-based luggage manufacturer rolled out a range of suitcases that comes with an embedded E Ink display. Same size as the standard paper luggage tag, E Ink display gathers data from either supported airline mobile application or the manufacturer’s own app. The airline app then have to simply use its check-in feature and sync it with the electronic tag- helping the airline to drop-off luggage at the dedicated airport counter. The luggage manufacturer also claims that its own app can also be used for initiation as well as switching the tag to contact information mode – making the E Ink display useful even if the airlines or airports do not support electronic tags. Presently available at available at Munich, Hamburg and Frankfurt airports, smart luggage tags have major potential.

Missing or permanently lost baggage are a nightmare for travelers. The feeling is sinking to say the least. With advanced IoT based solutions, travelers would never have to worry about losing their bags. With the help of radio frequency identification (RFID) technology, data stored in the smart luggage tags can be consistently and accurately captured by scanners utilizing radio waves. This makes way for simple and effective tracking. Travelers are literally omnipresent with their bags at all times- ensuring they have made it on to the plane and unloaded at the other ‘relevant’ final destination. The RFID technology- likely to be used at 344 airports around the world with a success rate of 99.9% after numerous trials coupled with management reporting systems- will make baggage handling efficient.

Secure with a Lock: Considering how easy it is to lock luggage and lose the key to it or forget passwords, advanced ways to smart lock luggage are in contention. Among the contenders: locks that allows users to easily unlock the luggage through a tap on their smartphones, locking and unlocking using fingerprint ID, smart baggage locks with GPS that would enable travelers to check on their bag and ensure it is still locked along with real-time along with notifications when the bag is loaded onto a plane. The smart luggage locks uses Near Field Communication (NFC) NFC and a battery or at times smart locks can also be accessed using a pre-paired NFC smart sticker– that travelers can put in their wallet, in case of non-availability of an NFC-enabled device.

Knock off Weighty-issues: Ceiling on baggage weight is the biggest gripe for flyers. While manufacturers have made advancements in materials and design along with other features such as GPS tracking, many players are beginning to take a hold and have come up with smart inbuilt scale that would indicate- on the phone screen the luggage’s weight- on pulling the handle of the suitcase and if it meets the airline’s baggage requirements.

Remote-controlled Smart Wheels: Even those most luggage have wheels attached to them, travelers still have to trawl it. To further enhance the traveler experience and more it less harrowing, smart luggage that does not need trailing are doing rounds. These smart luggage, having wheels can be controlled by a remote.

Additionally, to get the smart luggage game even more high-tech, a groundbreaking ‘seeing’ suitcase was introduced in the smart luggage market last month, and is billed as the world’s first ever ‘vision-powered carry-on’. Powered by ‘Computer Vision’, the luxury smart luggage recognizes its user and analyzes surroundings. The suitcase is designed to move alongside its user at the speed of 6 mph in “Side Follow” mode. And, in case of an obstruction, the suitcase will stop, drop back and follow from behind.

Smart Luggage That Convert into Beds, Kitchen, and Offices?

Did you ever want to have a bed, kitchen and, work station all combined in your luggage? The answer is in a suitcase that the world welcomed last month, designed by an Australian-born designer. The smart luggage made of aluminum and wood exterior and leather interiors– come in various designs. The smart suitcase can be converted into a work desk and a sleeping bag- with cushions and side frames to keep accessories and belongings. In the next phase, the company is also set to launch a series of smart, luxurious suitcase that will work as a kitchen with foldable chopping table, mini fridge, built-in power supply and drawers for cutlery.

Are Smart Luggage Secure? Multiple Bans, Poor Enforcement, Information Theft to Decelerate Market

The smart luggage is in for some challenges after the US airlines put a ban on lithium-ion batteries. These batteries are what make a luggage ‘smart’- is highly inflammable and could cause a fire break mid-flight. Although, Lithium-ion batteries present in devices like laptops and suitcases are acceptable, the ones present in smart luggage are not owing to the fact that these are often pushed in the overhead cabin. However, to ease this ban, airlines are allowing travelers to carry such smart luggage only after removing the batteries. But this raises two issues: firstly, removing batteries can be an extremely difficult task as it would involve a lot of unscrewing and wire snipping of the smart luggage, and secondly it would be stripped off its ‘smart’ functionality, reducing it to a regular luggage. The ban went in full effect starting early this year leaving a number of companies in a tough spot.  However, poor implementation of this ban- wherein TSA- approved smart luggage are allowed, could add to the pain of manufacturers and could be a major drawback for the smart luggage market, restraining people from buying one. Travelers will be allowed to carry on or check in their smart luggage as long it has removable battery.

Owing to connectivity issues, feasibility of smart luggage is limited to only airports and is expected to be one of the major areas of concern. Additionally, since these products have wires, screws, battery chargers and RFID tags often confuse TSA scanners. Also, security factors such as theft of personal and confidential data including travel itinerary are expected to slow down the smart luggage market growth.

This fallout has definitely affected the smart luggage market and if the restrictions continue, many other smart luggage manufacturers will either start looking for new technological advancements or fold entirely. Although, some manufacturers have already started making onboard batteries modular instead of integrated ones, the full potential of smart luggage is yet to be realized.

https://ift.tt/2v0iNko

[casualvconstellation-blog]

Proposed Confession

Ever since I met you I’ve been constantly contradicting myself.

You’re starting to pick up on it too,

And point your finger like I’m not your preferred nomenclature;

But it’s you who’s making me this way,

And I can’t argue I don’t enjoy it.

I’m experiencing sensations that were unimaginable until now,

But that brings out uncomfortable queues

That may not necessarily be congruent to you.

Because someday I’ll make up my mind.

Put the pieces together like lock and key.

I’m floating free through this empty space,

Shape-shifting through days,

And it would be enjoyable if you accompanied me.

It’s not the most appealing,

I’ll be the first to admit.

I’m trying and abrasive at best.

I can’t acquit this will work to any advantage,

But I’m loving the way solidarity tastes.