#nao/maven

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Ask the Experts - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Vi learns a thing or three...

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

"I need her back, Nao," she whispered. "My sister's all I have. She’s kept me going for seven fucking years. And if I can't save her, then—then I've got nothing left."

Nao cradled her close, and whispered, "Maybe she doesn't need saving."

"Huh?" Vi blinked wetly. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe she's where she wants to be." Nao's fingers tipped Vi's chin. "Maybe she's throwing up walls because they're what's keeping her safe."

"Safe from what?"

"The past," Nao ventured. "Or you. It doesn't matter. Maybe she's in the middle of her own maze, and she's scared. Until she finds a way out, she'll keep those walls up. Maybe she's afraid to lose sight of where she's headed, and how far she's come. Maybe, to her, looking back means losing sight of the future."

"Who's future? Hers—or Silco's?" Vi's teeth sunk into her lip, but the words slipped out. "Look, I...I gotta ask. Do you know anything? About them?"

Nao's expression, beneath the softness, seemed to calcify. "Them?"

"Jinx," Vi said, hating herself for it. "Silco."

Nao was silent a moment. Then she said, softly, "He's devoted to her."

"That's not what I'm asking." Vi fought down a hot surge of bile. "There's rumors. So many fucking rumors. That he and Jinx, they're—together. In the worst way. Jinx denies it, and Silco, too. But—the way they act, sometimes, it's like they're the only two people in the world. They're always together. Like a package deal. She's always clinging to him. Always looking to him, like he's the one holding her up. It's—it's like they've got this..." She groped for the word. "Intimacy." 

Nao stayed quiet. When Vi met her eyes, they were shadowed. Nao knew something, but the knowledge ran deep.

"The Eye," she murmured, "has someone in his life."

Vi's pulse spiked. "Are you saying—?"

"It's not Jinx. She's his family. And like family, they keep each other close. Close like a knife under a pillow." Her eyes slid away, and her voice dipped. “But there's someone else. Someone he relies on. He doesn't show her off, but when she's by his side, he's different. He's... not softer, but steadier."

"Who," Vi pressed. "Who’d be crazy enough to be with him?"

"I can't tell you. But I'll say it's serious."

"How serious?"

The smile was back, but the shadows remained. "As serious as it gets without a ring."

"Then you've seen it." Vi's gut churned. "Seen them. Together."

"I see plenty. I hear more." 

Nao slid a leg over Vi's waist. Straddling her, she arched over Vi’s recumbent body. Dark locks fell in a perfumed curtain. Vi could smell the musk of sex beneath the sweetness of mint. Her body was a warmly debauched garden. And it should've aroused Vi, except Nao's face was a polished oval. All her tells carefully hidden.

Vi wondered if this was her visage, her persona, for Silco. Or if there was a different self beneath the façade.

One reserved only for his enemies.

"I'm good at what I do, Vi," she said. "And the Eye knows it. He values my services. And my discretion."

"I'm not asking for dirt."

"You aren't. But he would." Nao's fingertips traced her jaw. "We all have a part to play. And I have to play mine right. I won't be in this life forever. Three years from now, I won't be his favorite. But I'll have what I need to walk away. And when I do, I want it to be on my terms. No loose ends."

Vi swallowed. "Loose ends?"

"Something that can be used to yank me back." A phantom of pain flitted across her face. "Or force me under someone's boot."

"And that's why you chose Zaun," Vi surmised grimly. "Why you chose Silco."

Nao's brow arched. "Is that jealousy I hear? Or judgement?"

Vi's cheeks heated. Her palms, skating down the hourglass dip of Nao's waist, starfished her full hips. "I just don't get it, is all. You could've had any heavy hitter in the world. Instead, you've got a guy who's—" The words stuck like paste. "He's fucking awful, Nao. A monster. You can't tell me you enjoy being with him. Even if you're just playing a part."

Nao's head tipped, as though pondering the clumsy words. Then she shook it. "It's not about enjoyment."

"Then what is it about?"

"Power," Nao said simply. "The Eye controls the underworld. I control his pleasure. With one hand, I give. With the other, I take. It's a balance. And in between, for a little while, we're both satisfied." She shrugged. " I've had clients far worse. Men who can't be bothered to shower, let alone groom. Others who think their cocks are magic, or a woman's body is the mouth of hell. The most tedious are the ones who need to be coaxed out of their shell, and coaxed to sleep after." She gave a wry laugh. "They don't need a fuck. They need their mother."

Vi's heart gave a sick patter. "And him? What's he need?"

"His needs are—complex. There's a labyrinth where his mind should be. You never know what turn he'll take or what door he'll slam shut. You're always left second-guessing. Always waiting for the blow-up." A strange smile slinked across her lips.  "In the bedroom, that's not without its merits. Sometimes, he reminds me of you."

Vi bridled. "Ugh, that's sick."

"That's the truth." She leaned in, the tips of her breasts ghosting Vi's. Between them, her pendant was an icy lick. The Eye's insignia flashed, and her own eyes glinted. "He's harder to read than you are. Harder to satisfy. But in a good mood, he can be generous. Patient. And very... inventive."

Revulsion crept through Vi. The idea of Silco and Nao, in bed, doing the same thing she and Vi had shared, was beyond the pale. She didn't even dare contemplate what perversions he might be capable of.

And yet...

"What's he like when he's not?" she said, then instantly regretted it. "I mean—he doesn't... force you, does he?"

Nao laughed, but it held no mirth. "It's not about force, Vi. It’s about loyalty. That's the currency he deals in."

"Blood and bullets."

"No. Those are tools. What he's willing to trade. What he wants?" A beat. "That’s simpler."

"What do you mean?"

Nao swooped in, and nuzzled her ear. "Everything."

[king-maven-calore]

So... Victoria just confirmed in her IG live that Maven let Mare kill him and that he used his last bit of love and autonomy, the same that meant he could be saved, to spare Cal the pain of losing him when they talk in Farewell...

[kangacav69]

Beer Garden Solo Harga

Banyak anak muda yang menghabiskan waktunya untuk sekadar nongkrong di toko bir hingga larut malam. Tempat yang nyaman dan sangat cocok untuk nongkrong bersama kerabat maupun keluarga.

50 Oktoberfest Tips For The Firsttimers Oktoberfest

Beli screen mesh online berkualitas dengan harga murah terbaru 2020 di tokopedia!

Beer garden solo harga. 48 colomadu surakarta jawa tengah. Harga makanan yang disajikan mulai dari 28 ribu hingga ratusan ribu rupiah. Rumah baru 200 m 2, daerah baturan, colomadu, surakarta (karanganyar) (baturan, colomadu) baturan, colomadu, surakarta solo rp.

Minum bir & kongkow di reruntuhan rumah lama: Destinasi keluarga indonesia untuk belanja, bersantap, bermain dan menonton dengan konsep modern, terjangkau dan lengkap. Menu (termasuk harga) untuk beer garden dapat berubah sejak terakhir kali situs diperbarui.

Makanan dan minumannya punya harga yang wajar, dan suasananya pun mendukung. Known for botomless supersized beer mugs. Popeyes chicken & seafood, jakarta:

Sakapatat beer garden & resto, semarang: Snack di sini juga enak dengan porsi yang cukup banyak. (024) 3558788, 3580426 fax :

House of beer the park mall solo baru tak cuma menyediakan bir, ada mocktail, pasta, dan piza juga hob by stark menawarkan berbagai menu minuman beralkohol yang variatif, dengan kadar alkohol tak sampai 5 persen. Kamis (29/10/2015) malam saat kompastravel menanyakan bir yang ditawarkan, untuk saat ini trotoart mendediakan prost dan beberapa minuman alkohol seperti mixmax. Jika datang tak perlu tanya sudah buka atau belum, tempat ini bahkan tak pernah terlihat seperti beroperasi, kecuali saat ramai pengunjung.

Lawar gurita semawang yang terdiri dari campuran sayuran, minced octopus meat, dan berbagai bahan lainnya ini pastinya akan memberikan sensasi tersendiri bagi anda yang memang penggemar masakan lawar. 11 12 beer garden merupakan beer garden yang berjarak 3.05 km dari kartasura, lebih tepatnya bertempat di jl. Waroeng ss awan bengi resto and cafe

Blog, food for fun, highlight, restaurants january 26, 2016 mengunjungi bandung udah jadi kebiasaan banyak orang di jakarta. Langit seduh by dapoer nona. Waw kisaran harga yang cukup terjangkau serta intelktual muda sudah bisa mencicipi cita rasa masakan di grandis barn ini.

Mr k cafe dan beer garden. Sakapatat merupakan beer garden yang paling baik di kota semarang. Waroeng solo is located at madrasah street, just beside jeruk purut cemetery to be exact.

Info lengkap jadwal dan harga tiket ka joglosemarkerto. Hours, address, sakapatat beer garden & resto reviews: Bisa nongkrong sambil memandangi cityscape kota semarang.

Selain itu, beer garden juga menyiapkan snacks dan makanan berat untuk menemani kita minum disana. Tepatnya di kedai kopi kultur sanur dan teras gandum beer garden & kitchen ini, berbagai menu istimewa serta unik ditawarkan ditempat ini. Format gambar menu beer garden di situs ini telah didigitalisasi oleh zomato.com.

Di sini tersedia berbagai pilihan moctail,, cocktail dan beer. The restaurant is nicely designed like rumah joglo (traditional central javanese house) complete with serene trees, beautiful garden and also coffeeshop and beer house. Taman kebon sirih 1, jakarta pusat.

0812 9038 9038, mug unik untuk souvenir,souvenir murah wilayah palembang,asemka souvenir rusia,bisnis souvenir nikah,toko souvenir pernikahan online Harga sebotol bir prost rp 45.000, sementara seporsi french fries buatan sendiri rp 25.000. Overall tempat ini worth it untuk diantriin karena masuknya aja waiting list.

Anda akan membayar sekitar rp 747.237 untuk menginap di hotel bintang 4 malam ini, dan sekitar rp 1.019.897 untuk hotel bintang 5 di yogyakarta (berdasarkan harga di booking.com). Zomato.com tidak menjamin harga atau ketersediaan menu di beer garden. Cost rp300.000 for two people (approx.) 

48 colomadu surakarta jawa tengah. Cendrawasih no.8, ruko cdf, semarang, jawa tengah telepon : Buat kamu ingin kongkow sambil minum beer di solo, kamu dapat meluncur ke the park mall solo baru untuk menemukan cafe house of beer yang nyaman.

Kode r318 rumah mewah baru style kolonial dekat bandara solo harga 9m butuh renov dan finishing 6 k.tidur 6 k.mandi ruang tamu, ruang keluarga, ruang makan, dapur, paviliun ada ruang kerja dan studio halaman sangat luas rumah gaya kolonial seperti. Makanan mulai rp35.000 | minuman mulai rp20.000 alamat: Konsumen bebas mengunduh dan menyimpan gambar berikut, tetapi tidak menggunakan data digital.

Cukup worth it dengan cita rasa dan suasana tempat yang nyaman sekaligus instagramable. Pembayaran mudah, pengiriman cepat & bisa cicil 0%. Lihat 3 ulasan objektif tentang popeyes chicken & seafood, yang diberi peringkat 3,5 dari 5 di tripadvisor dan yang diberi peringkat no.5.228 dari 9.679 restoran di jakarta.

Baca juga 40 tempat kulineran solo versi wisata indonesia. See 4 unbiased reviews of agrotek garden resort, rated 1.5 of 5 on tripadvisor and ranked #91 of 129 restaurants in kajang. Tempat inipun tampil unik dengan kitchen bar dan beer garden ala.

11 12 beer garden merupakan beer garden yang berjarak 3.05 km dari kartasura, lebih tepatnya bertempat di jl.

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yard beer pong red solo cup, I fill you up (5 gal

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Wedang Uwuh Itu Apa, Wedang Uwuh Jakarta, Wedang Uwuh

[fulvius]

Como foi difícil escrever este artigo, ou melhor, esta série que iremos lançar. Eu sou desenvolvedor Java, demorei anos para entender todo  parte do ecossistema que envolve a plataforma, o que cada framework faz, como é sua arquitetura, onde e como deveria ser usado e como googlar determinado problema. Lembro até hoje a alegria que tive ao configurar um projeto Struts + JPA usando Maven (até que enfim tinha entendido esse tal de gerenciador de dependências). Enfim, você não sabe o quanto eu cam

via: http://eexponews.com/nao-faca-testes-faca-specs_5646133586558976

[lullabyes22-blog]

Can you reblog Nao/Maven headcanons please?

I'll be sure to if I can find them<3

We'll be seeing plenty of Nao/Maven in Act V and VI as it is! c:

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Oops - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Ho, don't do it. Ermagaaaard.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO on AO3

Snippet:

She expects another twitch.  Or a flash of temper. Some sign that the barb struck home.

Instead, in the mounting silence, he stares out into the vacuum of the airless night. The hazy neon smooths out the cicatrices of his face, taking ten years off his age. For a moment, he resembles someone else, wry-tempered and warm, not the terrifying monster she's grown to despise.

"Do you know what I miss about being twenty-five?" he asks, quietly.

Vi frowns. "What?"

"It's not the hope. Not the sense that the world's boundaries are elastic, and its roads endless." A flicker of amusement touches the corner of his mouth. "No, it's the self-absorption."

"What?"

"It's the only time in one's life when self-awareness is hoarded as a private commodity. When you're aware of nothing but yourself. How the world looks upon you. Your own wants and needs. And what stands between them."

Vi's fists flex to keep from socking him. "Get. To. The point."

"My point is, you're twenty-five. An ego with legs. It never occurs to you that the world might not be a stage, with you as the star. Or, better put: that Maven's stage, and her performance, are not meant for you alone."

"Oh, so she wasn't trussed up like a prize pig just for me?" Vi fires back. "You didn't toss her to the wolves, naked and bleeding, just to teach me a lesson?"

"If I'd tossed her to the wolves," Silco says, in a tone of infuriating calm, "she'd be dead. She's not, is she? That's because tonight was no performance. It was damage control."

"What are you talking about?"

"Maven is a prized asset. One whose services I’ve solicited. Exclusively." He takes another deep swallow of wine, and savors it. "Everyone in the network knows. They also know the rules. They are not to touch her. If they do, there are consequences." The glass sets on the ledge with a chill plink. "And what do you do? Shove your grubby hands straight down her knickers."

Vi's blood boils. "It was mutual."

"Consensual? Yes. Mutual?" His sibilant scoff seems to circle the balcony before arrowing up her bristling spine. "Pet, let's be grown-ups. Maven is a seasoned professional. Her sexual proclivities are the subject of much fascination. Even among those on my network who can barely spell 'proclivities.' But the girl's frigid as a glacier. She fucks for one reason, and one reason only: power."

Deja vu creeps over Vi, a prickling wave. She hears, again, Nao's confession.

With one hand, I give. With the other, I take.

It's a balance.

"She's an artist, through and through.  It's why I pay her a premium. If you think she'd jeopardize that, for an old-times-sake fling, with her employer's bodyguard—"

"You don't know jack-shit!" Vi snaps. "Not about her—or me! Hell, I doubt you've ever made a woman happy in your entire miserable life."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I do." Vi's eyes slit. This is dangerous territory, but she's flipped from defense to offense, determined to provoke. "You're a one-eyed, pencil-necked, ball-less prick who gets his jollies off by screwing the people who can't fight back. Who pays whores to fuck him, because he can't hold an honest conversation with a real woman for more than a minute without needing to control every word out of her mouth.  And who gets his panties in a bunch if his whore prefers the company of a real live woman instead of a half-dead ghoul with a god complex and a limp-ass dick."

She doesn't know what she expects. Rage? Violence? A knife to the gut?

Instead Silco remains slouched indolently at the ledge. The shark-eye pins her—not with malice, but rather as if Vi is a curious subspecies of slug he's never encountered before, a freak of nature that might yet prove worthy of note. Then a smile snakes out across his lips: a tiny crooked slice that, like the rest of him, is so grotesque it verges on preternatural.

"So," he says, softly. "Our Pet has teeth."

 "Hell of a lot prettier than yours."

"No argument there." Musingly, he fondles the rim of his glass. "It's funny. Maven warned me you had a talent for talking trash. But she didn't mention you'd the vocabulary of a juvenile delinquent. We'll have to work on that."

Vi stiffens. "She—Nao talked about me?"

"Oh, yes." The syllables, so soft, take on an arctic chill. "That's the beauty of being twenty-five, isn't it? No room for the thought that, while you're busy fucking a whore, the whore is busy fucking you."

In a single smooth motion, he picks up the glass and hurls it at the wall. The crystalline explosion jerks Vi into gooseflesh.

The chill descends to subzero.

"Oops," Silco says, without emphasis. "Clumsy."

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Dance of Death - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Vi gets a front row seat to the deadliest show in Zaun.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

His head inclines, and the servers slip away. "Maven."

At the name, Vi's body turns to hot gelatin.

The image is instantaneous: Nao, laid out on a wooden plank, with her arms bound over her head. Silco, looming, a knife in his fist. The blood: seeping, pooling. Nao's ear-splitting shrieks presaging her final, strangled gasps.

Nao isn't bound.

Cat-footed, she slips through the backdoor. The lamplight cuts a silhouette of her body.  She's sheathed in a sheer lacework gown of intricately beaded silk: midnight black, and shot through with a webbing of red ribbons. The bodice, cut to the hips, is backless. The plunge chases the dip of her spine all the way to the dimples above her backside.  The skirt falls in a ruched cascade around her legs, the lines fluid as shadows. The rest of the gown reveals as much as it conceals: the slopingly rich cups of her breasts, and the smoothness of her belly and the tautness of her highs.

It's a dress worthy of a single night. One hard tug, and it will unravel, baring her in full.

The sound system begins to whisk the softest strains of a lute. Vi recognizes the tune. It's an old tribal song, from the northern hills of Ionia: a rhythm of string and drum, and a woman's voice pitched to a crooning lament. The doleful notes resonate, as if from the bottom of a well. The plucked arpeggios quiver with their own oldness: each percussion like the precipice of a plunge.

Nao glides to the table. Her smooth sashay is nearly as hypnotic as her smile. Between her breasts, the gold pendant gleams: the Eye's insignia a hypnogogic whorl. Her cat-eyes are ringed in kohl, and her hair's been teased into a rippling cascade. Two masks—one horned, one fanged—dangle from her fingers. Their painted smiles are red as her own.

At Silco's side, she dips into a playful curtsy. A fall of blue-black hair spills, baring the swanlike curve of her neck down to the arch of her back.

The sight sears itself into Vi's retinas: a target in motion.

"Sir," Nao says, and her voice is pure honey. "Your table looks lonely."

Silco inclines his head. His lips are upturned, but there is nothing pleasant about the smile. "Perhaps you should rectify that."

Politely, he proffers a hand. Nao takes it.

In a fluid motion, she vaults over his chair and onto the table. Her feet are bare: they make no sound across the polished hardwood. She struts across its length like a catwalk, smooth scissoring steps. The blacklights shine on her legs: sculptural marvels from ankle to thigh. Her eyes never once meet Vi's. They stare at a fixed point beyond the guests' heads: an expression of one part feline indifference mingled with two parts sensual provocation.

Midway, Nao pivots. The skirts swirl. The masks are tossed into the air. In the same blink, she catches them. Her wrists execute a complex, serpentine weave. The masks dance together, their painted grins spinning in a Janus-faced double-helix. Then they flip. Nao's arms extend, one forward, one backward, the two masks held out like shields.

She slips them on.

The horned one, in front, is a snarling demon-face in blood-red, complete with curling horns. The fanged one, in the back, is a leering death's head of jagged white teeth. As she pirouettes, the faces rotate: demon and skull, switching places, again and again, with the seamlessness of a madhouse mirror. 

The effect is disorienting. Mesmerizing. The underbosses stare, spellbound, as Nao completes the circuit. Her body is sinuous: the joints swiveling as if on servos, the twist of her hips suggesting a corkscrew as her shoulders follow the movement, followed by her nimble feet. When the pirouette completes, her hands fall. The masks remain: back-to-back.

The face of death, and the face of damnation.

Both, grinning. Both, hungry.

"The Day of Ash," Silco says, the barest timbre over the pulsebeat of the drums, "is a day of many faces. Life. Death. Each, a face we've all glimpsed. One, too often." His shark-eye holds the sheen of old blood. "Tonight, we've earned the right to know it intimately." The barest smile. "And cut it down to size."

He signals to Ran.

In a trice, a silver tray is set before him. In the blacklights, the throwing-stars—the ones Ran was polishing earlier—wink like the sharpest eye-teeth. Some are matte black, some are chrome, and others hold the iridescnce of an oil-slick.

Silco chooses one, tossing it skyward. It spins, a blurred pinwheel of light. All eyes track its flight. Then, on the downward arc, Silco snatches it from the air. It's a blur: his hand whipping out, the star gone. When it reappears, it is notched neatly on the wall between Uzi and Vi. The tip is sunk into the wooden panel, the steel quivering.

The underbosses explode into raucous whoops.

Vi feels the pulse beating at her fingertips. She's witnessed Silco's knifework up-close. This is the first time she's been treated to his marksmanship. She knows his vision is compromised: he sees the world in shades of red, and his depth perception is shot. But his aim is uncannily precise. He could have easily put the star between Uzi's eyes—or hers.

Again, she hears Vander's words: The weight does the talking. The wrist does the work.

That's the difference between a nick and a knifing.

Silco plucks a second star, and another, and a fourth. Their spokes are slotted between his knuckles.

His eyes lock on Nao.

At the table, she is stock still. Her body's lush contours seem composed of pure luminance.  Upon her shoulders, the death's head leers. The skull's eyeholes are a pair of voids. Nao's own face, behind the mask, is an unknown quantity.

Vi can see is the rise-and-fall of her chest.

"Well?" Silco says, deceptively mild. "Shall we begin?"

Nao's voice comes husked behind her mask. "At your pleasure, sir."

Silco's expression gives away nothing. Only a sharpening gleam in the eyes, of a piece with the steel he wields. "I'm afraid you've got it the wrong way round."

He lifts his arm, and the throwing-star is level with her throat.

"You'll finish," he says, "at mine."

Nao's shoulders square. In a single breath, she fills her lungs. The skull-face remains impassive.

Then, sinuously, she begins to dance.

Her lead foot plants itself the way Vi does before a fight: like a nail has been pounded through it. Using it as a fulcrum, she works the power up through her ankles, along her calves, into her thighs. Her hips follow. They sway in an insinuating gyration: side-to-side. The motions are mesmeric.  Shadows pool in the hollows between her hipbones. The blacklights turn her dress into a tapestry of shadows, undercut with red. Her mask is a cipher.

The music swells. The singer's voice soars to an aria: abyssal swoops and eerie falls. In between, a slow, throbbing pulsebeat snakes its way down the spine. It conjures the fantasy of a dark goddess elbow-deep in grisly human remains. Blood splattering her skin; her head thrown back in a ecstasy.

The underbosses are enthralled.

Dessert has become an afterthought. All that exists is the music and the Maven.

Nao's spine lengthens. Her head falls back. The curve of her neck, dark and smooth, bares itself to the blacklights. Her arms give chase: lifting with undulant slowness over her head.  The movement loosens the ribboning of her bodice. The fabric, peeled back, exposes ribs that spread like fingers under round breasts tipped with mouthwateringly dark nipples. The pendant, suspended in her cleavage, sparks gold.

Then she executes a pivot, a liquid twist of motion, and her mask swaps sides.

The visage, front and center, is a snarling demon's. It gleams red as blood from a freshly torn vein. Nao's arms are still raised. Her fingers weave together, the elbows and wrists articulating into an angular sinuosity that suggests a pair of snakes interlocked. The muscles in her back are finely sculpted: the latissimus a cobra's hood, the sinews fluttering in her trapezius like wings. Shadows pour into the dip of her spine. They collect in the dimples above her rear. Her gown, slipping, teases at the shape of her bottom: round and full.

It's a spectacle of brute eroticism—and surreal grotesquerie. Vi has never seen anything like it. The music and Nao's body ripple as one. But there's a difference to the skull's dance and the demon's. The former was slow, studied, sensuous. The latter is a canal frenzy. Nao's hips jolt on a gyre: left, right, left.  Her body rolls: spine arching, shoulders thrust back. Her hair whips in a windswept storm. The blacklights edge each strand with the luster of opals.

Then she starts to spin.

In a blur, the demon becomes the skull, and the skull becomes the demon. Her skirts billow, the beads sparkling, the ribbons coming undone. The smoothness of one columnar thigh bares itself. Then the sleek crescent of one buttock. Then the architectural shelf of hips. A glimpse is teased of the cleft between her legs.

Then the vision is snatched away. The dress fabric, parted like wings, snaps shut. Nao's hands, skittering up the ribbons, weave them back into place.

One glimpse is enough: the promise of paradise long lost.

The underbosses loosen raucous whoops and catcalls.  Some, bolder, begin pounding on the table. The room swelters with the throttlingly deep charge of desire.

And death.

As Nao completes the fifth turn, Silco's arm lifts, and the first star is flung.

It arcs in a quicksilver streak. Nao swerves, already in motion. The star zips past, and lodges itself a foot away from her shoulder. The underbosses drag in a collective gasp. Nao doesn't miss a beat. She executes a flawless backbend, nearly a ninety-degree angle, just as a second star whizzes past her head.

Her palms land flat the table. She launches herself into perfect handstand, thighs scissoring, and for a moment every inch of her body is in full view. Then her feet go over, toes pointing, and her legs extend in a perfect horizontal split. A heartbeat later, Vi spots a third star, already notched on the far wall, less than a handspan from the crook of her neck.

A red line oozes along the skin. The vein pulses rapidly beneath.

Reflexively, Vi jerks her body toward Silco. It's blind adrenaline. She has no idea what she'll do. All that matters is stopping the next throw.

Or wringing his neck.

A moment later, Sevika's cybernetic hand lands on her shoulder. The weight is the equivalent of a cast-iron skillet. Vi is slammed back into her seat.

The blacklights carve the dimensions of Sevika's profile into a brutalist sculpture: the chin a block, the nose a blunt chisel, the eyes a metal-plated pair of glaives.

"Don't even think about it," she says.

Vi's jaw locks. The grip is an iron vice.

This, she understands, is her punishment. She'd been stupid. She'd made the mistake of assuming the worst had already happened. Now the worst is happening, and her hands are bound.

All she can do is watch.

A tiny rivulet of blood runs down the column of Nao's throat, and flecks the gold pendant. Her chest heaves: her breaths come jittery. Vi wonders if it's exertion—or panic. The former, probably. Nao is no fool. She'd known the risks.

They only spur her on.

Nao's fingers splay across the table. One thigh scythes up, and a toe touches down. She uses it as a pivot to launch herself upright. The beads in her dress sparkle: an explosion of embers. The demon-face grins, its maw stained with gore.

A heartbeat later, another star streaks toward her.

Nao dances, and the star follows.  It collides against a beam, and ricochets, burying itself in the floorboards. Nao pirouettes, and the next one misses by a hairsbreadth—literally. Vi sees a few strands float free. Then, she spins, and her leg goes out, and the demon is facing the opposite direction. The skull's eyes are black holes, the teeth white and gleaming

A star sinks into the wood at her feet. Splinters fly.

Vi's hands ball into fists. The terror and adrenaline blur together: a mad buzz. She can barely hear the music. Her eyes are locked on Nao, who's still dancing. The swivel of her hips becomes a pendulum, tick-tocking. With each motion, the ribbons of her skirt begin to unravel.

The next throw is a feint. Nao ducks, and the star flies overhead. But her dodge takes her off-balance, and she nearly loses her footing. 

The next star, cutting cunningly slantwise, nearly slices her hip. It embeds with a dull thwock into the table . The hem of her skirt is snagged, and ripped in half. The beads scatter like broken teeth.

Nao rights herself.  The rent in her dress exposes her from throat down to the juncture between her legs. There is no undergarment, no barrier. Her mons is shorn clean: the smooth mound bare. The blacklights trace the dark, tight crease between her thighs.

Vi's throat works.

"Oh yeah," Uzi breathes, a hoarse exhalation. "That's my kinda party."

Another star flies. It cuts the shadows like a comet. The underbosses crane their necks. Nao is midway through a leap, her legs a split. The star's trajectory takes her perfectly dead-center.

Then she drops bellydown, and her back arches. The star zooms past her head. It buries itself into the wall.

The underbosses' cheers are deafening. So is Vi's heartbeat.

Smoothly, Nao straightens. Her gown is a shredded ruin around her feet. Sweat limns her body, skin glistening as if she's been dipped. Her breasts quiver with the force of her heartbeat. The gold pendant has gone red.

 Again, a star flies. Again, she spins.

 It is a surreal tableau of beauty and monstrosity. Each rotation brings a different mask into view: each an identical visage of sadism.  One moment, the fanged skull; the next, the horned beast. Nao is the axis on which they spin. And the stars, scattershot fractals in her orbit. Each one lands, inch by inch, closer to her bare, beautiful flesh.

The underbosses cheers gain volume. The music hits a crescendo. The room is a furnace.

The final star flies. Nao has no time to dodge. She's still mid-whirl. The masks, melting and merging and reforming, have transmogrified into a single nightmarish entity: hunger made flesh. The gyrations of her body become a vortex, sucking all light. The room goes black. All Vi can see are the twin eyeholes with their blank stare, and the blacklights spitting a corona of blue fire.

The final star strikes: a silver bullet.

It hits into the wood just behind Nao's heel. Off-balance, she stumbles.

A moment later, the song ends, the final note stretching like a scream. Nao braces on her hands and knees, panting. The masks, now, are just that: masks. Beneath is a girl, trembling beneath a fine sheen of sweat. Her hair is a tangled spill, her dress in shreds, the beads glittering like six dozen drops of blood.

A live sacrifice.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Last Sentence Tag

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

Thank you for the tag @revewrites<3

tw: sex work, violence, dysfunctional dynamics

Vi overhears Sevika instructing Nao/Maven on how to soothe the savage beast:

"Pour him four fingers of the good stuff. Neat. Ice it, put a slice of bergamot in, and a thimble of Shimmer. No more, or things will get ugly." Her eyes flick down and up Nao's body, an appraisal so quick it's almost a muscle tic. "Get yourself ready. He won't take his time tonight. He'll be a wild animal. Don't make a peep, and smile, like it's your favorite. Afterward, he'll be hungry. Switch the lights on, go naked into the Laguna Lounge's kitchen, make him dinner. Steak. Rare. The bloodier, the better. Make sure he can see your hands doing it. He'll be watching, but he won't talk. You know the drill. Get the steak on his plate, sit with him. Don't touch him unless he tells you. Don't ask questions. By the end, he'll want seconds—and I don't mean dessert. He's got a soft spot for you. Play it right, and he'll be gentler. Do whatever it takes to keep him that way. He'll be drowsy after. A shot of brandy, a cigar, and he'll go down for the night. Stay close. Let him wake up next to you. And, when he does, make him coffee. Black. No sugar. I guarantee he'll give you a bonus, a brand-new wardrobe and the entire week off."

I tag @the-blue-quetzalcoatl @juniper-sunny @givemebeansnow @silcosentropy @frostybearpaws @hannibalcatharsis @letters-to-rosie @silcosmoke and anyone else who'd like to join<333

[lullabyes22-blog]

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - Act V Outline

Tentative outline for the mayhem's midpoint!

Jinx discovers a Viktor! What is this fascinating species of Pokémon? Can she take it home? What does it eat? Will it bite if she pokes it? What happens if she steals its cane?

Silco and Viktor meet. Silco threatens him, then seduces him with Science (tm). Then he slips Shimmer into his pocket and yanks the glove off his augmented hand.

Viktor's angst is immeasurable. Cue blackmail fodder.

Banquet between the chem-barons and the Council. Zaunites have weird table manners and weirder eating habits.

Silco pees in front of Jayce in the restroom. While discussing politics. Poor Jayce yearns for brain bleach.

Jinx and Vi finally meet. It's hella ugly.

Vi runs into Nao/Maven. Oh dear, she's not quite over her crush yet...

Vi kills somebody. Again. Goddammit why does this keep happening?!

Silco is a horrible person. To people and to animals.

Silco and Mel share their first make-out session. Sparks fly. So does blood, ohoho~

Sevika begins growing suspicious. Silco's own emotions begin growing muddled. "Are there condoms that can prevent these feelings?/Is there spermicidal lubricant that can kill/The fluttering in my heaaaart?"

CaitxVi breakup. Oh noes T_T

Vi returns to Zaun - as Silco's blackguard. Let the corruption arc commence!

Jinx POV chapter. It is pure chaos. Lots of stuff gets blown up.

Zaun acquires a Machine Herald in the making.

Score for the city of Iron and Glass.

.-.b

[fulvius]

A General Motors pode ser uma das maiores montadoras do mundo, mas ela desistiu de vender carros. Ao menos, é o que ela vê para o médio e longo prazo. Assim como a arquirrival Ford e outras montadoras gigantes, ela quer se tornar uma “empresa de mobilidade”. Ela já tem um serviço paralelo chamado “Maven” – desde 2016 -, que consiste em um aluguel de curto prazo de carros para os interessados que não mais querem ser donos de automóveis. E agora, essa novidade está sendo levada para o principal m

via: http://eexponews.com/gm-nao-quer-mais-vender-carros-e-vai-levar-novidade-para-nova-york_5191791188377600