sleepsucks · 7 months ago
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thewertsearch · 6 months ago
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GA: What Are You Doing […] GG: im getting dave to set up that expensive equipment GG: so i can start doing all that witch of spacey stuff you were telling me about GG: which i appreciate, since my sprite turned out to be sad and useless, and not very wise at all :(
What, so she's not giving any advice?
I'm not against the idea of Jadesprite having agency, of course - but at the same time, it doesn't seem like it should be possible for a Sprite to abandon their charge. I think creating a Dream Sprite has really fucked something up.
GA: I Was A Sylph Not A Witch […] GG: what is a sylph? GA: I Think Its Sort Of Like A Witch GA: But More Magical
That means basically nothing, which is probably deliberate. Class exposition has always been vague as hell.
I guess this implies that there are some explicitly ‘magical’ classes, such as the Witch, the Sylph, potentially the Seer, and presumably the Mage. Sollux did cast a curse, after all, and Rose is casting all kinds of spells. Perhaps Jade and Kanaya will learn to do the same.
GA: But Regardless I Think Our Roles Are Approximately The Same Since We Are Both Stokers Of The Forge GA: As Well As Holders Of Breeding Duties
Breeding duties, eh?
Maybe Jade's the one responsible for breeding animal species to inhabit the new universe. Biosphere construction sounds like a fun challenge, and one that's right up Jade's alley.
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GG: it sounds like GG: it involves GG: a lot of breeding :\ GA: Well It Does GA: But Not Breeding Through Means Typical Of Most Species […] GA: I Didnt Mean To Alarm You By Implying You Were Required To Wage A Great Deal Of Personal Procreation Over A Span Of Several Weeks GG: yeah, whew <_<; GA: Though It Should Be Clear That Repopulation Is Among Our Duties As Well In The Long Term GA: And Ive Gathered That The Cloning Apparatus In The Veil Is Probably Meant To Permit An Initial Boost On The World We Select For Settlement GA: But Beyond That It Is Up To The Descendants To Perpetuate The Race
Why, though? Like, what's stopping the Players from using the Veil's cloning gear indefinitely?
Maybe they can, but it just doesn’t scale. Eventually, your burgeoning population will be growing faster than you can build cloning machines, and their natural reproductive rate will dominate the numbers.
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manoelt-finisterrae · 2 years ago
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...nos tempos lomográficos de Toel Moum...
© Manoel T, 2022
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honjitsuno1mai · 2 years ago
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#3305 @ 長崎県壱岐市郷ノ浦町新田触
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vanillastopbath · 2 years ago
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3305 Lombard, IL 01/18/2023
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purple-cow-dumpsters · 5 months ago
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Dumpster Rental Bulverde TX
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Dumpster rental in Bulverde, Texas, are more than just a practical necessity—they are a cornerstone of responsible waste management and environmental stewardship. By offering tailored solutions, streamlining the rental process, promoting sustainability, and supporting the local economy, these services contribute to the community's overall well-being. In Bulverde, residents and businesses can rely on dumpster rental services to simplify waste disposal while preserving the town's natural beauty and communal spirit.
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Dumpster rental services in Bulverde cater to various needs, offering multiple sizes to accommodate different projects. Whether it's a minor residential cleanup or a large-scale commercial endeavor, residents and businesses can find the perfect dumpster to suit their requirements. This versatility ensures that customers only pay for the needed space, minimizing unnecessary expenses.
Thanks to the professionalism of local rental companies, renting a dumpster in Bulverde is seamless and hassle-free. With user-friendly online booking systems or responsive customer service representatives, arranging for dumpster delivery and pickup is a breeze. This efficiency allows projects to proceed smoothly without disruptions, enhancing overall productivity.
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pesterloglog · 11 months ago
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Kanaya Maryam, Jade Harley
Act 5, page 3305-3309
-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling gardenGnostic [GG] --
GA: Im Appreciating Our Conversations From This Timeframe More And More
GA: Past You Is Much Less Of A Taskmaster Than Future You Or Pre Blackout Rose
GG: thanks i think!
GG: what do you mean by pre blackout rose?
GA: I Mean Post Blackout Rose Is A Lot Less Difficult Insofar As She Is Unavailable
GG: umm, ok...
GG: but what do you mean by blackout???
GA: I Guess Youll Find Out Soon
GA: And Then Report It To Me Under Extremely Specific Circumstances
GA: Which Is Good Because I Sure Dont Know
GG: hmm @_@
GA: Yes Hmm And That Face Is A Good Response
GA: Your Eyes Are Right To Be Swirled Letters
GA: What Are You Doing
GG: im doing what you told me to do!
GG: im getting dave to set up that expensive equipment
GG: so i can start doing all that witch of spacey stuff you were telling me about
GG: which i appreciate, since my sprite turned out to be sad and useless, and not very wise at all :(
GA: I See
GA: Well I Didnt Actually Tell You To I Was Just Being Informative
GA: Also It Isnt Technically Witch Of Spacey Stuff
GA: I Was A Sylph Not A Witch
GG: oh
GG: what is a sylph?
GA: I Think Its Sort Of Like A Witch
GA: But More Magical
GG: a magical witch???
GA: Yes Im Completely Certain Of That Suddenly
GG: thats awesome
GA: But Regardless I Think Our Roles Are Approximately The Same Since We Are Both Stokers Of The Forge
GA: As Well As Holders Of Breeding Duties
GA: However I Should Clarify That My Earlier Counsel Was Mostly Academic
GA: It Takes Weeks To Do All Of It Properly
GA: You Wont Have Time
GG: breeding duties?????
GA: Yeah
GG: uhhhhhhhhh...
GG: please tell me that doesnt involve what it sounds like!
GA: What Does It Sound Like
GG: it sounds like
GG: it involves
GG: a lot of breeding :\
GA: Well It Does
GA: But Not Breeding Through Means Typical Of Most Species
GG: oh
GG: does the equipment we are deploying have anything to do with it?
GA: It Has A Lot To Do With It
GA: It Is Cloning Equipment Much Like What Is Scattered All Over The Veil
GA: The Same Kind Responsible For Creating All Of Us
GG: ok then, thats pretty neat
GA: I Didnt Mean To Alarm You By Implying You Were Required To Wage A Great Deal Of Personal Procreation Over A Span Of Several Weeks
GG: yeah, whew <_<;
GA: Though It Should Be Clear That Repopulation Is Among Our Duties As Well In The Long Term
GA: And Ive Gathered That The Cloning Apparatus In The Veil Is Probably Meant To Permit An Initial Boost On The World We Select For Settlement
GA: But Beyond That It Is Up To The Descendants To Perpetuate The Race
GA: And Your Species Has Quite An Advantage In This Respect
GG: how so?
GA: Your Procreation May Be Carried Out By Paired Individuals Autonomously
GA: Whereas Ours May Not
GA: Which Is What Makes My Role Particularly Important
GG: what is your role?
GA: Im The Keeper Of The Matriorb
GA: It Is An Egg That Will Hatch A New Mother Grub
GA: She Alone Will Be Responsible For Bearing Our Young
GG: whoa, cool!
GG: so you are like bugs, like bees or ants or such, but with horns
GA: I Guess So
GA: And You Are Like Erect Livestock
GA: Without The Muscle Definition
GA: Or The Hermaphroditic Physiology For That Matter
GG: :o
GA: But Milk Producers Nonetheless
GA: That Rare Kind Of Organism To Nurture Hatchless Young Within
GA: Are You Not
GG: errr.......
GG: yes 8|
GA: Anyway
GA: I Had Imagined I Would Hatch The New Grub On A Planet In Your Universe
GA: And When That Became Impossible I Quickly Lost Hope
GA: I Assumed It Would Remain Locked In Its Card Forever
GA: Which Could Only Be Opened When The Orb Was Meant To Be Used
GA: But Then I Found Something Quite Unexpected When I Was Exploring This Lab
GA: I Found A Key
GA: It Was Deep In The Meteor
GA: And As I Suspected It Released The Orb
GA: Which Was Really Confusing To Me For A While
GA: Until I Realized What It Meant
GA: Which Is So Obvious Im Amazed I Didnt Think Of It Right Away
GG: what!
GA: It Means I Am Supposed To Use It Now
GA: To Hatch The Grub In The Heart Of This Meteor
GG: you think so?
GA: Sure
GA: There Is No Reason A Meteor Couldnt Act As The Center Of Our Races Resurrection
GA: They Are Themselves Like Large Seeds After All
GA: The Only Question Is Whether We Can Manage To Keep It From Being Destroyed
GA: As Well As Whether I Am Able To Raise A Mother Grub To Maturity
GA: Oh Wow That Thought Is Actually Pretty Overwhelming
GG: i think you can do it!
GA: You Do
GG: yes...
GG: didnt you say your lusus was a grub?
GA: Yes She Was In Fact A Mother Grub
GA: Who Relinquished Her Calling As Matriarch To Raise Me
GG: thats perfect!
GG: if you were raised by a mother grub, then you are in a great position to raise one yourself
GG: it is like...
GG: a sort of family legacy!
GG: a really cool alien family legacy
GA: Okay
GA: Thanks For Saying So
GG: dont mention it!
GG: so how does this cloning stuff work?
GA: Its Very Involved
GA: Like I Said You Wont Have Time
GA: In Fact It Probably Should Have Taken Considerably Longer Than It Took Me
GA: I Was A Little Rushed
GG: i want to try anyway!
GG: if you can hold out hope for rebuilding your race in the center of a meteor, then i think i can at least try to get a little cloning done with the time i have left
GA: Yes Youre Right
GA: I Cant Imagine How You Can Complete The Objective In The Time Given
GA: But Weirder Things Have Happened I Think
GA: First Deploy The Pad
GG: yes, dave is doing that at the top of this ridiculous tower
GA: Um
GA: Why All The Way Up There
GG: didnt you say it needed to be in a warm place?
GA: Yes Thats Right
GG: my house is freezing now
GG: it ran on geothermal power before...
GG: and i guess theres no heat anywhere inside this planet
GA: That Will Probably Change If You Light The Forge
GA: But One Thing At A Time I Guess
GG: yes i would like to hear about that later...
GG: but yeah the weather seems just fine out here in the medium!
GG: lets see how dave is doing.....
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pembersihmesincuci · 1 year ago
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voidedjuice · 2 months ago
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Songstress robot model UTA-3305, assigned to entertain guests at a high-end restaurant. Currently slowly going out of order due to lacking maintenance, and the presence of foreign biological material growing inside it.
Though it is a robot, it wishes to come to understand the human emotions it's been made to sing about all its "life". Please do entertain it with your stories while you pass by.
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sumwan · 9 months ago
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I miss the Dream SMP so I remade the entire disc confrontation/staged disc finale area in Minecraft.
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Available for download here! (Java only)
The world was generated in version 1.16 snapshot 20w17a, which is the version the DSMP was originally started in. The bunker/vault area is built in the exact same location as the original (checked with VODs), at coordinates -240, 80, 3305. The elevator is actually functional too! The world is compatible with Minecraft Java version 1.20+.
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Some notes and more info below the cut:
Install instructions: unzip the file and put the folder in the saves location, default is C:\Users\[username]\AppData\Roaming\.minecraft\saves
Notes:
I built and changed only the disc finale area! This area includes the mountain, the bunker, and a tiny part of the Nether. The rest of the world is completely untouched, but I did generate it from spawn in 1.16 so the landscape should look familiar.
You can go through the Nether portal and it should put you in the right location but I didn't build anything else in the Nether.
This world works only with Java! You're free to convert it to Bedrock but the elevator won't work in Bedrock, so keep that in mind.
You need to press the button upstairs to make the elevator go down, and the button downstairs to make it go up. You can't press the button upstairs to make the elevator go up, and you can't press it downstairs to make it go down.
The world is compatible with version 1.20+ but I did replace the deepslate in the bunker with the original bedrock, so it should look the same as in the actual finale.
When you first start the world, it should put you right in front of the elevator entrance. If you get lost or stuck at spawn, the coordinates to the disc finale area are -240, 80, 3305.
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vintagelasvegas · 5 months ago
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Panorama Motel, 3305 Fremont St – c. 1955
The motel opened on Boulder Hwy in 1955. In the early 70s the motel name was changed to Lucky Cuss, and the motel's neon sign was modified with the new name. In the late 2000s the Lucky Cuss sign was donated to the Neon Museum; it is now installed on Las Vegas Blvd. The motel remains open with a different sign as of the 2020s.
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thegoldensanctuary · 2 days ago
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Part II C the larger paintings and the early furniture
Saint Cecile playing music
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Fig 30 : Dominiquin (Domenico Zampieri, dit Il Domenichino), Sainte Cécile avec un ange tenant une partition musicale, 1600/1625, 160 x 120 cm, Louvre, INV 793; MR 181.
Painted by Domenichino(fig 30) in the early 17th century it depicts saint Cecile playing cello while looking at the sky with a angel under the traits of an infant holding her partition. The artist chose to depict the saint wearing an outfit contemporary the artist’s life, which would have been anachronistic for a saint who live in the 3rd century. The painting was sold by Jabach to Louis XIV in 1662[22] and was placed, according to Piganiol, on the unique fireplace of the time on the southern wall.
King David playing the Harp
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Fig 31: Dominiquin (Domenico Zampieri, dit Il Domenichino), Le Roi David jouant de la harpe, vers 1619, 240 x 170 cm, huile sur toile, Château de Versailles, MV 5359
Painted by Domenichino (fig 31)around the same time as the painting previously discussed, it depicts King Davis paying the harp. Just like in the saint Cecile’s painting the main protagonist is assisted by an angel depicted as young boy holding the partition, while he is looking at the sky. But unlike the previous painting, in which background is dark, the one in the King David painting appears to follow the code of a state portrait : with a tapestries with golden fringes filling the upper right corner, and a column displayed on the left. It was purchased by Louis XIV to the heir of Mazarin in 1665[23].
2.3 The Furniture
The 1684 winter set :
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Fig 32 : 3d Recreation of set 1109, in the central salon in the Sims 4 engine
The 20th of November 1684 a large delivery of furniture is registered for the royal apartments in Versailles. Several sets of crimson velvet are placed in the King’s apartment. In the room where the King dresses the delivery mentions two armchairs, 16 stools 8 portiere tapestries covered in crimson velvet with gold fringes, and braids, registered under the number 1109[24](fig 32)while no specific seasonal use is mentioned it is nevertheless possible infer that the set in question was meant to used for winter, as the table cloth and daybed delivered alongside for the council cabinet under the number 1103[25], is, as late as 1740[26], still mentioned in said cabinet and used as a winter set, probably until 1749[27]. 
The 1700 summer set :
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Fig 33 : 3d Recreation of set 1870, in the central salon in the Sims 4 engine
In May 1700, Doublet delivered three new summer sets for King’s apartment under the numbers 1870,1871 and 1872, the set destined for the central salon, the 1870(fig 33), contained :
-8 portiere tapestries made of 3 pieces of brocade each
-3 armchairs and 12 folding stools covered in brocade, with gold fringes and braids, with their wood sculpted and gilded [28]
The brocade in question was described as “silver background brocade, with flowers embroidered in gold and silver, contoured with silk of different colors, with gold braids at the edge and taffeta lining.”[29], the brocade discharge includes several brocades with silver background used by doublet when making the upholsteries and portieres for those three sets. The 6th brocade listed is the one used for the confection of set 1870, its description goes as follow  :”brocade from Lyon with silver background, flowers patterns of gold and silver surrounded by thin contours of red, green and purple silk”[30], the descrition is almost identical to the original but includes however the specific colors used for the outline of the silver and gold raised patterns, the origin of that brocade can be traced to a delivery from the 12th of June 1698, initially destined for the royal chapel in Versailles, and who was given at the time the number 135[31].
[22] See number 53 of Le Brun’s inventory
[23] See number 125 of Le Brun’s inventory
[24] AN O1/3305, f⁰ 153 v⁰ ; Jules Guiffrey Inventaire général du mobilier de la couronne sous Louis XIV (1663-1715). Partie 2, p. 348, number 1109
[25] Ibid
[26] AN O1/3453 f⁰ 4 r⁰
[27] AN O1/3314 f⁰ 145 v⁰
[28] AN O1/3307 f⁰ 417 v⁰
[29] Ibid
[30] Ibid f⁰ 420 r⁰
[31] Ibid f⁰ 360 r⁰
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liloinkoink · 1 year ago
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Cover Me in Roses
skelew - 3305 words - complete
Ren wasn’t always an adventurer. He still hardly counts himself as one—he’s certainly not taking dangerous quests or anything like that. He has no party, only carries a bow and a knife to hunt food on occasion. If he’d had a choice in the matter, he doubts he’d have even left home.
Were it not for his god, Ren would never have made it this long.
Or, Lamplight AU Roleswap!
TREEBARK WEEK DAY 3: SAPLING/PUPPIES REAL
ive posted about leaflight before, but now i have made a Real Polished Fic abt em (🎉). got a first meeting and an oath running alongside a 'current' scene for their dynamic as sapling-god and unwitting paladin
leaflight obvs shares similarities w lamplight, being a roleswap, but it's got a lot of major differences. the plot's a collab effort w a lot of people, but the bulk of how especially the later plot looks i made w @cherrifire !! hope you have fun w this fic, and happy treebark week!
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edupunkn00b · 5 months ago
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Meus ex Machina, Chapter 17: Two Steps Forward
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Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.
Prev - Two Steps Forward - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]
WC: 3305 - Rated: T - CW: swearing, suggestive, non-graphic nudity, (memories of) non-graphic violence
Logan (and Roman) work obsessively at finding a way to help Remus. Just as Lucas had. And just as Lucas had, they have a breakthrough.
“Re’s really progressing in his control,” Luc murmured, head pillowed on Janus’ belly. His head rose and fell with each breath, a soft marking of time as they wound down for the evening.
Janus hummed and carded an ungloved hand through his hair. “He seemed so happy at dinner after your excursion.”
“When we first got out there, he… he started to get overwhelmed. Ro did, too, at first. The…” His brow furrowed, then smoothed under Janus’ touch. “Old Boston is so close to the camps… That’s a lot of voices, a lot of pain.” Luc shifted, smiling up at him through messy curls. “Your lessons carried Ro through it.”
The fact he could help at least one of the boys eased the tightness in Janus’ chest. “That helps, love. Thank you.” His decade-old promise to keep them both safe danced through his mind and fueled every attempt to get Re’s powers under control. “So… how did you get through to Re?”
His gaze shifted, suddenly fascinated by the crooked edge of a thumbnail.
“Luc?” Janus prompted, hand stilling in his hair.
“I took just a little of the hurt,” he said, finally looking up. “Just enough to let him concentrate.”
“Luc! You promised you’d focus on techniques to help him stay calm, not just doping him!”  Janus sat up and Luc pushed up onto his elbow, bringing them closer to eye level. “He needs to learn how to filter the perceptions coming in, not just… not care about what’s out there.”
“It wasn’t a full block! I swear, ma cheri,” Luc insisted, reaching for his arm. “We can’t just yank off the training wheels and let him teeter off a cliff.”
“I’m not suggesting—”
“‘Trust me, dammit,’” Luc whispered with a little smile. His grin grew when Janus sighed, shaking his head with a laugh.
“Now that’s just unfair,” he murmured, pushing back the hair from his eyes. “You can’t use my own words against me.”
“I can’t?” Luc chuckled, sliding closer and nuzzling against his collarbone. “Who’s gonna stop me?”
~
Twenty-three weeks.
One hundred and sixty-one days.
One hundred and sixty-one days since he’d first looped a reverse-field esper coil over The Prince’s shoulders.
“Damn,” he’d grunted under the weight but still laughed. “If this doesn’t work, Iron Man, I’m gonna make you bench this thing.” Logan had spent a lot of time in the fitness room after that first failed test.
One hundred and sixty-one days of breaking the vise on V’s printer, of burning his fingertips on overheated solder. One hundred and sixty-one days of The Prince’s downcast eyes, of flicking off a too-much or two-little device.
One hundred and sixty-one nights of whispering together outside The Muse’s door about that day’s attempts. And about the book The Muse was reading, and the Springsgate bridge the team had saved from collapsing. 
About the dreams they’d each had the night before.
It had taken three weeks, but they’d finally convinced V to install a vent in the hall at Logan’s level to make it easier for the Muse to hear him. After watching Logan stretch and strain to get closer to the vent he’d installed at eye level—at a standing Mad Lad’s eye level—he’d finally obliged. The work in the hall was quick, but Silvertongue had needed to dig up some ancient set of manual tools so V could install the bolts on The Muse’s side.
“Wait, not that drill—”
“Dammit!” The power drill sparked and sizzled in his grip, and the acrid scent of burnt insulation filled the air. “Mac, you got the hand drill—” Logan had chuckled and thunked into his outstretched palm.
“Right here, V.”
One night, he and The Muse had tried to sit together on either side of the open door for an actual face-to-face conversation. But the temptation had been too great and all it had taken was one tiny touch for fire to spread between them.
At least it had been brief enough not to have woken The Prince or Silvertongue.
One hundred and sixty two days later, after everyone had gone to sleep, Logan tapped at The Muse’s door, trial #398 freshly polished and nestled in his lap.
“You said Ro helped you?”
The Muse sat on the floor, two arms’ length distance from the open door. He fidgeted with his sleeves, twisting them together in his lap, and chewed the edge of his mustache. He watched with wide eyes as Logan maneuvered to the floor—less than gracefully—and turned to retrieve the thick metal ring from his wheelchair. 
Logan nodded, holding up the device. It was heavy, though perhaps not as heavy as it looked. It was about three inches wide and a good inch thick, a large durasteel bangle custom fit to wrap around The Muse’s wrist.
Well, designed to fit tightly around his brother’s wrist. Eyeing The Muse’s far bonier wrist now, Logan nodded, certain it would fit him comfortably.
“And Ro’s not awake, is he?”
“No,” He shook his head, smile tight. That first time they’d touched, it had taken The Prince several days to completely recover from the overflow of thought and perception from The Muse’s unshielded mind. “He’s asleep. And if anything goes wrong, we’ll flip the shield back up. He might have a brief nightmare. Nothing worse than that.” 
Nothing worse than starting all over with their tests. Again.
Logan shook away his pessimism and met The Muse’s eyes before setting down the coil on the floor between them. “Are you ready?”
The Muse’s fingers twitched as he reached for the device. Completely powered down, it lay heavy and quiet on the floor, with none of the staticy buzz it usually emitted. His hand hovered above it, just shy of touching it.
“But if you turn it on in here, won’t my shield break your—your”
“Esper coil,”
“Yeah.” The Muse traced a spray of wires woven along the edges. Patton had helped with the braiding and Logan briefly wondered if he recognized his work. The Muse looked up and nodded. “You should see what he does with hair.”
Dragging his eyes away from The Muse’s soft green ones, Logan nodded and pointed to the power switch. “You will need to activate the coil immediately after I shut down your field. I would, but—” Right hand outstretched, he wiggled his fingers at the same time he waved his left stump.
The Muse chuckled. “Okay, I can do that. And you’re sure it’ll work?”
“I’m positive the coil will protect you. I would never knowingly put you in any jeopardy. We’ve tested it extensively and—”
“No.” The Muse touched his sleeve. “I mean are you sure it will work to protect you from me? That time the power went out, and when we touched… I…” He hung his head. “I hurt you.”
“We hurt each other,” he reminded him. “I will be fine,” Logan promised, before The Muse could argue—again—about who hurt who more. “If need be, I’ll reactivate the field.” He smiled, his hand close enough to the Muse’s to feel that glorious buzzy heat radiate off his skin.
“Okay,” he nodded. “I trust you, Logan. This switch here?”
“Precisely.” Eyes fixed on The Muse, Logan climbed up the perch next to the door, then felt along the wall for the shield’s control panel. The cover squeaked when he flipped it up. He nodded one more time and pressed his palm against the shield’s controls.
The numbers counted down and The Muse’s mustache quivered, and he shook out the hand hovering over the coil’s switch. The panel flicked to ‘0’ and a strangled sound spilled from his lips, a matching wail filling Logan’s mind.
Abruptly, the pain was gone and the Muse looked up, blinking as he smiled back at him. The cry in Logan’s mind shifted, deepening into a soft, comforting hum. It reminded Logan of a lullabye.
“It worked,” the Muse whispered. He inched closer, still gripping the coil. “I… It… It doesn’t hurt,” he said, looking around the room as though he could see through the walls.
Maybe he could.
“I…” He let out a low sigh and his entire face melted into a softer smile, his shoulders dropped, hands loose even as he hugged the coil close to his belly. “I can hear… I can hear y—” The Muse’s eyes flew wide open. “You hurt!”
“What?” Logan scrabbled for the panel, stabbing at the controls. “No, no, no, I’m so sorry, I’ll turn it back on, I’m sorry, I was so sure, I—” It would fry the coil, but all that mattered was stopping the Muse’s pain. Hand trembling, he broke the sequence and had to start from the beginning, hurrying to get the protective field reactivated.
But the Muse was faster.
“No, Logan, I mean you hurt,” he said softer, gently pulling his hand from the controls. When had he gotten so close? The Muse’ hand was warm against his, but it was more than a surface heat. His touch felt… textured. Plush, like a fluffy towel. Or dandelion heads. What insulation looked like.
Logan relaxed and moved closer. The Muse just nodded, still holding his hand, coil now wrapped around his wrist. Scarred and calloused fingers oh-so-gently traced over his own misshapen digits, brushing over the scarred knuckles where his pinky and ring finger had once been. 
“I can hear how much you hurt here,” the Muse whispered. “And here,” he added, tapping what was left of his legs, then his arm.
Logan looked away, but the warmth spreading from the Muse’s touch remained. “Phantom limb pain. The clinic said it’s all in my head,” he muttered.
“Of course all our pain is in our heads,” the Muse replied, sliding closer. “So is our joy and our pleasure and our fear and our need.” His hands were so warm. “Our love and our desire.”
This close, Logan was certain he heard the Muse’s words like his own thoughts, though with the coil set this high that shouldn’t be possible.
The Muse grinned as he touched his chin, two gentle fingers turning him so their eyes would meet. “You’re softer now, but I can still hear you. And I think you can hear me.”
Logan shivered, the Muse’s excitement buzzing under his own skin, easing his worry. The movement set off a wave of sharp ache, long-gone calves screaming to be stretched. He stifled a cry. “And… and I’m not hurting you?”
“No,” he said, wincing in time with Logan.
The panel called to him. “No, I am. I can see it. I’m hurting you. I should raise your shield.”
“No, please don’t,” the Muse stroked his hand. “I have an idea.” Pulling back, he sat fully on the floor, legs crossed at the shins in front of him. One hand rested on his thigh and the other he held in offering to Logan. “Close your eyes and take my hand.”
With one more glance at the control panel, Logan slid down to the floor and did as he was asked. Eyes closed, Muse’s hand wrapped around his and he laced their fingers together, with Logan’s pinkie—his pinkie— brushing against a long, jagged scar over the back of Muse’s hand.
“You feel that, don’t you?” Laughter played in his voice. “Now take my other hand,” he whispered.
“But I—” Logan began even as warm, callused fingers enveloped his left hand. Tears pricked his eyes as he flexed fingers he hadn’t felt since the bot attack. “H—how? How are you doing that?”
“Keep your eyes closed,” Muse instructed instead of answering. “And see.”
Eyes still shut, Logan looked down and smiled at his own thin, pale fingers threaded together with Muse’s. The tips of Muse’s fingers were scarred and rough, but his palms were soft and wonderfully warm. Logan squeezed his hand, laughing, then traced a thick knotted scar just above his first knuckle. The bones were crooked beneath his skin, like they’re broken and fused not quite the way they’d been. Muse nodded.
“I punched the cinderblock,” he explained with a dry laugh. “I thought it might be a good distraction, but…” He shook his head and gave him a little shrug when their eyes ‘met.’ 
Logan stroked the scar, nodding slowly, then brought their shared grip together and compared his hands side-by-side. His own hands weren’t identical, but they never had been. Without the augmentations commonplace for Traditional children of the highest classes, the fingers on Logan’s dominant left hand had always been just a little thicker, a little stronger. 
He’d always scarred easily and his skin freckled in the sun. This hand, his hand Muse was showing him was splashed with the same familiar constellation of freckles and moles on the back of it where he’d missed his sunscreen, awkwardly applying it with his non-dominant hand. He’d had the marks since before the final round of ozone replacements back when he was still a child. Know you like the back of my hand…
Muse’s Illusion was… perfect. Incredible, in fact. Logan could ‘see’ his old hand so clearly. But—
“Your mind remembers,” Muse whispered, leaning closer until their foreheads touched, hands clasped between them. “It’s all in there, bouncing around in your head, little memories hiding from your own thoughts.”
Logan floated in the gentle cadence of his words. 
“But your mind keeps it all, the memory never really goes away. Nothing does. Nothing dies in your mind. Your mind remembers what your hand looked like, remembers what things felt like. Your mind remembers everything.”
As if on cue, Logan curled around himself, a tearing, burning pain shooting up his left arm and his right hand clenched around Muse’s. The pickerbot’s shadow loomed over them, cold metal pulling him up by the hair and—
“Shhh, it’s okay,” Remus whispered. A mustache bristled against the knuckles of his right hand as warm, chapped lips pressed kisses against his mangled fingers and Logan gradually softened his grip. “See? You’re safe.” When his right hand grew slack, Remus laid it in his own lap. “Rest your hand there,” he instructed, then wrapped both hands around Logan’s trembling left arm.
Palm smoothing down over skin that wasn’t really there, he gripped Logan’s phantom left hand, then firmly massaged the muscles in his shoulder and upper arm, pressing away the pain of ripped ligaments and flesh, the physical evidence of a solid, whole humerus overriding the memory of shattered, grating bone.
His hands moved down Logan’s left arm, pressing soft spirals into his elbow and over the flexors in his forearm, his wrist, each finger. When he was done, Remus lifted Logan’s left hand to his lips and gently kissed each fingertip.
Logan flexed his left hand, twisting his arm first one way and then the other. Remus smiled, watching.
“Better?” he asked and Logan nodded. “Now your legs. May I?”
“I trust you, Remus,” he said, laying back. Remus. When had he started to call him that?
Remus only smiled and a fuzzy brightness filled his mind. Warm sunlight on a hot day, a cool breeze raising goosebumps at the back of his neck, and over his cheeks. His heart thrummed in his chest, syncopated with the beat of Remus’ just under his skin. He relaxed as Remus shifted his body, freely sharing images of how he wanted to move him. 
Stretched out on the floor, head pillowed on one of the cushions, he lifted each leg one at a time as Remus massaged away a year’s worth of knots and aches from phantom muscles. Remus slowly worked his way up until his fingers grazed the line of fire half-way up his thigh where the pickerbot had torn him apart. He flinched.
“It’s okay, Logan, see for yourself.”
His words were soft and voiceless, but clear in Logan’s mind. He looked past closed eyes and saw his legs were healthy and whole, lanky muscles relaxed under Remus’ ministrations. The fiery ache was gone, replaced by Remus’ soft, gentle touch.
“Whenever it hurts, whenever you hurt, remember this feeling,” he said, the silent words stitching themselves into his every cell, neurons crackling and popping like those old vids of campfires. Remus helped him sit up then cupped his face between both hands. “You’re safe now, Logan.”
Remus’ words melted into his skin with the heat of his touch and Logan nodded. “I know.”
He leaned against the door and Remus curled close, tucking himself under his stump of an arm. Slowly, Logan reached up and brushed back a bit of Remus’ hair where it had fallen into his eyes. Warmth spread through his chest, a low rumbly hum. He wasn’t sure if it had started in Remus and spread to him. Or the other way around.
Just as slowly, Remus wrapped one arm around his belly, molding himself to Logan’s side. “Is this okay?”
Logan couldn’t tell if he’d asked out loud. He nodded, cheek rubbing against the top of Remus’ head. “More than okay,” he said with his mouth. Don’t let go, he said with his heart.
And Remus heard both. “I won’t,” he promised.
They stayed like that until their eyelids grew heavy and Logan’s hand stuttered and fell against Remus’ shoulder. 
“It’s late and you’re drifting off,” he murmured, shifting so he could look into his eyes. Remus blinked slowly, concern mixed with a happy daze. “It’s probably safer for you to sleep in your room, just in case…” He jiggled the coil on his wrist, its circuitry’s buzz reassuring. The key to so much.
But Remus was right. Logan nodded and he tried to sit up, a vision of clambering up and into his chair pulling him further from sleepiness.
“I can help.” Remus moved to a crouch, arms open. “We’ll work together,” he grinned, understanding both Logan’s need and hesitation without him having to speak it. He could get used to that. “Teamwork and all that, right?”
“Right.” Conjugations from an ancient Latin textbook, one of those old screened ones you could only read in the library, popped into his groggy brain as Remus lifted him up so he could reach the door controls. “Quorum par, tuum par, meus par…” [ ‘Our partner, your partner, my partner’ ]
Remus chuckled and settled him into his chair after the door slid open. “‘Meus par?’ Does that mean what I think it means?”
“Ah… Ah w—well—” Logan’s cheeks burned, the many meanings of the words ‘my partner’ flowing freely from Remus’ mind. “Th—that particular meaning might be more precisely translated as ‘socius meus.’”
Remus knelt next to Logan’s chair, keeping himself at eye level, if not just a little below. He then took Logan’s hand and held it to his own heart, the steady, rapid thrumming tickling them both.
“Or you could just call me ‘meus.’” Remus stared back at him, naked hope painting his features, a galaxy of emotions pouring from his mind. It left Logan dizzy and overwhelmed, this heady mix of joy and fear and… something soft he didn’t want to try to find words for. But did they really need words? Did they need words for what battered at the inside of his rib cage, fighting to be heard?
“Meus, then,” he whispered and Remus’ face bloomed in a smile. “Good night, Meus,” he said again.
“Good night, Logan.” He pressed a kiss against Logan’s knuckles and drew back into his room and let the door close.
Logan sat outside Remus’ room for a long time before slowly rolling down to the elevator. He called it and the doors slid open. He half-expected V to be waiting for him inside. But the elevator was empty.
After a minute or two, the elevator doors closed with him still sitting in the hall. The car remained where it was. Logan turned and rolled back to Remus’ door.
Remus was there, watching through the window.
“I don’t want to leave,” he said, hand trembling as he reached for the door panel. Remus nodded and leapt through the door as it slid open.
He crouched in front of his chair, both arms wrapped tight around Logan’s middle. “Then stay.”
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twocolorz · 4 days ago
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His name is 3305,
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oneterabyteofkilobyteage · 23 days ago
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original url http://www.geocities.com/Nashville/Bluegrass/3305/ last modified 2008-05-19 13:06:13
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