#Integrated Moving and Storage

[thetriomovers]

Efficient and Secure: Movers and Storage Solutions in Singapore

Relocating to a new home or office can be both exciting and daunting. Amidst the anticipation of a fresh beginning, the logistical aspects of moving and storage can often be overwhelming. This is where professional movers and storage services come to the rescue, and in Singapore, The Trio Movers stands as a reliable and comprehensive solution.

With the urban landscape of Singapore constantly evolving, efficient movers and secure storage have become essential components of any transition. The Trio Movers recognizes this need and offers a unique blend of expertise in both spheres.

When it comes to moving, their experienced team ensures a smooth and stress-free process. From packing your cherished belongings with care to transporting them safely to the new destination, their meticulous approach guarantees your peace of mind. But what truly sets The Trio Movers apart is their integrated storage solutions.

Whether it's a temporary need during a home renovation or a long-term requirement for downsizing, The Trio Movers provides modern storage facilities that prioritize security. Your possessions are kept in pristine condition, safeguarded against external elements and potential damage.

The convenience of having movers and storage combined under one reliable brand like The Trio Movers simplifies the entire process. It streamlines the logistics, saving you time and effort while ensuring the utmost safety for your treasured items.

In a bustling city like Singapore, where space is a premium, having access to efficient movers and secure storage can make all the difference. The Trio Movers stands as a testament to the evolving landscape of relocation, offering a holistic solution that addresses the diverse needs of individuals and businesses alike.

[copperbadge]

I have a lot of feelings about the use of AI in Everything These Days, but they're not particularly strong feelings, like I've got other shit going on. That said, when I use a desktop computer, every single file I use in Google Drive now has a constant irritating popup on the right-hand side asking me how Gemini AI Can Help Me. You can't, Gemini. You are in the way. I'm not even mad there's an AI there, I'm mad there's a constantly recurring popup taking up space and attention on my screen.

Here's the problem, however: even Gemini doesn't know how to disable Gemini. I did my own research and then finally, with a deep appreciation of the irony of this, I asked it how to turn it off. It said in any google drive file go to Help > Gemini and there will be an option to turn it off. Guess what isn't a menu item under Help?

I've had a look around at web tutorials for removing or blocking it, but they are either out of date or for the Gemini personal assistant, which I already don't have, and thus cannot turn off. Gemini for Drive is an integrated "service" within Google Drive, which I guess means I'm going to have to look into moving off Google Drive.

So, does anyone have references for a service as seamless and accessible as Google Drive? I need document, spreadsheet, slideshow, and storage, but I don't have any fancy widgets installed or anything. I do technically own Microsoft Office so I suppose I could use that but I've never found its cloud function to actually, uh, function. I could use OneNote for documents if things get desperate but OneNote is very limited overall. I want to be able to open and edit files, including on an Android phone, and I'd prefer if I didn't have to receive a security code in my text messages every time I log in. I also will likely need to be able to give non-users access, but I suppose I could kludge that in Drive as long as I only have to deal with it short-term.

Any thoughts, friends? If I find a good functional replacement I'm happy to post about it once I've tested it.

Also, saying this because I love you guys but if I don't spell it out I will get a bunch of comments about it: If you yourself have managed to banish Gemini from your Drive account including from popping up in individual files, I'm interested! Please share. If you have not actually implemented a solution yourself, rest assured, anything you find I have already tried and it does not work.

[screamofdespair]

Heiji Hattori as a Symbol of Creative Paralysis in the Detective Conan Franchise

For over two decades, fans of Detective Conan have watched Heiji Hattori grow from a charismatic rival to one of the series most beloved characters. And yet, even after more than 1000 episodes/chapters and 28 movies, Heiji remains treated as a side character, a "special guest" brought in occasionally to keep things going, but never fully integrated into the narrative core. This long-standing neglect is not just a missed narrative opportunity, it is a symptom of a deeper issue : the systematic creative paralysis caused by corporate control and capitalistic logic within the anime industry.

Heiji's Narrative & Wasted Potential

Heiji Hattori was introduced as a bold and brilliant counterpart to Shinichi Kudo, the perfect rival, partner, and narrative foil. He had all the potential to become a co-protagonist : two detectives in different regions solving cases in parallel, crossing paths, exchanging ideas, and deepening the world-building of the series. His charisma, his dynamic with Conan, his investigative style, everything was in place. Fans expected growth. Instead, Heiji became a glorified guest star. One or two episodes/chapters per year. No central role, no major investigations, no real evolution, nothing 'meaningful' since the end of his actual guest star phase, and all of it framed under the banner of a character written mainly to serve a forced romantic purpose. It’s gotten to the point where even the voice actors were tired. Despite the potential, he's used like a collectible taken off the shelf for an event, then put back into storage. They had a second ace detective in their hands and chose to keep him in the background, often by undermining his defining traits, reframing him as comic relief rather than allowing him to grow as a central figure. Takahiro Okura, the scriptwriter for some of the Detective Conan movies, stated that Heiji and Kazuha should be integrated into the main cast. Their absence, he implied, weakens the possibilities for deeper world-building. And ironically, now that the romantic subplot between Heiji and Kazuha has finally been resolved, their presence in the story risks shrinking even further if you ask me. Gosho and the writers might face a "what do we do with them now?" dilemma, instead of expanding their role meaningfully. From now on, Heiji could, alone, really take the spotlight, with Kazuha kept in the background or left out, out of fear that the story might move too fast and exhaust their new narrative potential too soon. And honestly? Why not. But that’s exactly the issue, it’s narrative cowardice. Having Heiji show up in more cases from now on, on his own, only proves they could’ve done it way earlier, and more naturally.

Corporate Logic Over Character Development

Heiji’s sidelining isn’t a creative accident. It’s a structural decision. The anime production committee composed of Yomiuri TV, TMS Entertainment, TOHO, Shogakukan etc, operates under a system where storytelling is subservient to profit optimization. Every narrative change is weighed not for artistic merit, but for its impact on merchandising, ratings, and continuity. Allowing Heiji to evolve into a regular would mean more writing, more arcs, and the risk of narrative progression. But that goes against the system’s core priority : endless repetition. This gives the anime/movies (especially the movies), and by extension the committee, a real influence over the manga’s pace, tone, and long-term direction. Aoyama may hold the pen, but the committee holds the cage. Lately, even some of Aoyama’s editors, under possible pressure, have either changed their stance or started aligning with the corporate mindset behind the series. This is not creativity, this is content management. And when your movies are making over ¥15 billion annually, why bother investing in a character like Heiji? Why develop new narrative structures, when you can keep him shelved as a “special guest” card. If you resolve arcs or elevate side characters, you bring the story closer to its natural ending and shortening a profitable franchise’s lifespan is commercially unacceptable. Even worse : while it would be entirely possible to use Heiji in non-canon filler episodes, giving the spotlight to his character without touching the core narrative, the producers still refuse to do it. Not because it would be difficult, but because it contradicts their conservative, product-oriented philosophy. They could plan episodes in advance, hire talented guest directors, build something fresh around Heiji but they won't. Because in this philosophy, innovation is not a priority. Stability is. What’s even more funny is that this could actually make people want to get back into the anime, and it would probably work really well. You’d get a bit of everything : a break from the usual artistic routine, different scriptwriters/directors/animators than usual, like i said earlier. A good example of that is the mini-series of Eri’s Courtroom. By limiting Heiji’s appearances through quotas, they’ve turned him from a character into a controlled asset, something to be managed, not developed.

The Endless Loop : Why the Story Can’t Move Forward & Its Creative Limitations

Detective Conan isn’t built to evolve. It’s built to circulate. The anime and movies generate billions of yen annually. Shogakukan, a major player in the Japanese publishing industry, has a clear economic interest in maintaining Conan as a permanent fixture, not as an evolving story, but as a cultural product. This isn’t just a franchise. It’s a dependency. The series fuels manga sales, spin-offs, licensing deals, and annual blockbuster films. The spin-offs, ironically, show how low the creative bar has fallen : despite fresh angles (Zero's Tea Time, Hannin no Hanzawa), they are underfunded and underanimated. The production circle is tightly controlled, with a limited pool of animators and almost no injection of new artistic energy. There’s no new blood injected in, just veterans like Yasuichiro Yamamoto (the series director), who have been carrying the weight of Detective Conan’s production since the very beginning. Animation Producers like Keiichi Ishiyama admitted in interviews that the system is so rigid that missing a single delivery deadline can jeopardize the entire production and push the studio to the brink of collapse. Another issue is the lack of creative freedom for the movie directors : even when someone tries to bring something fresh, like the director of Movie 27, Chika Nagaoka, who wanted to portray Heiji in a more mature way in the movie, the idea was swiftly overridden by Gosho Aoyama himself. Not necessarily because he disagreed, but because the philosophy demands consistency over innovation. That said, some animation producers, distinct from the executive producers or committee stakeholders, of course, do try to bring in talented animators, scout the competitive freelance market, and elevate the quality of key sequences. Without them, Detective Conan would be visually dead. These individuals still fight to inject life into a tightly controlled environment. But they operate under a passive restriction : the 'best' animators rarely want to work on a project so artistically suffocating (the shift to digital in Gosho’s drawings, or the gradual redesign of the anime’s character models = creative limitation, which became increasingly bound by consistency over experimentation). There’s almost no space for personal style. Even when talented directors are hired, like the director of Movie 22, Yuzuru Tachikawa (formerly of Mob Psycho 100) or Movie 25, Mitsunaka Susumu (from Haikyuu!!), their unique directorial style is barely visible. The films are cleanly produced, but the soul of the director is absent. Anyone can direct a Detective Conan movie. The role has become factory work, everything is controlled from start to finish, and the director no longer has access to any real source of creative input. The brand overrides the artist. Popularity of the manga > More money to be made > More content to be produced > Tighter deadlines and overworked studios (Gosho inclued) > Drop in quality but the money keeps coming in > A system of ultra-comfort settles in, no risk, no urgency to evolve > A never-ending cycle.

Capitalism Embedded in the Narrative

This is what i mean when i say capitalism over storytelling. Characters like Heiji are not written, they are managed. Narrative arcs are not planned, they are rationed. The goal is not to tell a story but to preserve a revenue stream. Even the script decisions are shaped by what’s safest for the committee. In contrast, look at Toei’s handling of One Piece. Despite being a massive commercial franchise, it invests in high-caliber animators, embraces experimental visuals and respects the momentum of the source material. It doesn’t just protect the brand, it elevates it. Conan does the opposite : it freezes its own world out of fear.

A Point of No Return?

Is it too late for Conan to change? Realistically, yes. The franchise has become a full-loop economy. The story can’t end, but it can’t move forward drastically either. Heiji Hattori, a character who should have been a second protagonist, remains trapped in guest status, even as his storylines are technically resolved. The worst part? That resolution doesn’t open up new narrative space. It shuts it down. The couple is canon now. It's great, but It’s hard to expect anything surprising going forward. I keep a sliver of hope, but honestly, it feels unlikely.

So yeah, Heiji Hattori is more than a sidelined character. He’s the symbol of everything the franchise could have become, and refused to. In trying to protect the illusion of a never-ending world, Detective Conan has built a prison for itself. Not out of lack of love. But out of fear of loss. The fear of losing control over a profitable system, fear of disrupting a carefully maintained commercial balance, fear of ending the formula that guarantees returns.

[bookshelfdreams]

I think, for every one of us, there is a popular post that we hate A Lot, because it is either factually wrong or reductive, and while this isn't the post I hate The Most, it still irks me.

So, here's how to care for natural fibres:

Wool: Does not like to be washed, but that doesn't mean it can't get wet. What is problematic is the agitation in combination with heat and soap - that leads to felting. Wool garments do not go in the washing machine (unless they're superwash treated, but even then, I would skip the spin cycle) or dryer. However! Wool makes up for that by being antibacterial and repelling dirt. A wool garment will not smell, as long as you treat it right (ie air it out, do not stuff it into storage damp, etc). It will not need to be washed often. If you do wash it, soak with wool detergent, gently squeeze, dry lying flat (if you wring it or hang it up, it will stretch out).

Silk: DO NOT PUT IT IN THE DRYER WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU. Some silks can be gently(!!!!!!) washed in the washing machine, no spin cycle, dry lying flat. Washing can compromise the structural integrity of both the fabric and garment; something stiff, that needs to keep its shape (for example, jackets or dresses, dupion) goes to the dry cleaner. It is true that flowy, light silks, such as habotai, can generally withstand the washing machine - but it will make the fabric age faster. Wear underwear to protect your garment from sweat, and you won't have to wash it as often.

Cotton: We all know how to care for cotton. Moving along. (I will say one thing, cotton is the only one of these fibres that really does stink, and needs to be washed the most.)

Linen: Will not care about temperature shocks or mechanical stress, that much is true. However. Linen does not like dry heat at all, if you want your linens to last a long time, do not put them in the dryer. Do not iron them dry either, always use either steam or spray them with water (ideally, both). Linen also doesn't take colour as well as cotton and bleaches easily, so turn your colourful linens inside out, wash them on low temperature, and don't dry them in direct sunlight.

In general, tumble drying significantly shortens the lifespan of any garment, even cotton. As does fabric softener (and its general usefulness is questionable, to say the least). Avoid both as much as possible.

[commodorez]

I still believe the craziest form of computer program storage format from the 1980s is the cassette tape. Logical I get it but to store entire programs on little tape (that I only remember using to play music) is just crazy to me. Idk

Agreed, cassette tape for data storage was really clever. The concept had its heyday was the 1970s in a wide variety of encoding schemes for different computer platforms. It did persist into the 80s, mostly in Europe, while the US switched to floppy disks as soon as they were available for systems. The majority of my Ohio Scientific software is on cassette.

Talking with UK vs. US Commodore 64 users in particular will highlight the disparity in which storage mediums that were commonplace. I've got a few pieces of software on tape for mainly the VIC-20, but I rarely bother to use it, because it's slow and annoying. To be fair, Commodore's implementation of data storage on tape is pretty rock solid relative to the competition. It's considered more reliable than other company's but Chuck Peddle's implementation of the cassette routines are considered quite enigmatic to this day. He didn't document it super well, so CBM kept reusing his old code from the PET all the way through the end of the C128's development 7 years later because they didn't want to break any backward compatibility.

The big thing that really made alot of homebrewers and kit computer owners cozy up to the idea was the introduction of the Kansas City Standard from 1976. The idea of getting away from delicate and slow paper tape, and moving towards an inexpensive, portable, and more durable storage medium was quite enticing. Floppy disk drives and interfaces were expensive at the time, so something more accessible like off the shelf audio tapes made sense.

I've linked two places you can read about it from Byte Magazine's February 1976 issue below (check the attribution links).

You might recognize a familiar name present...

There are a few ways to encode binary data on tape designed to handle analog audio, but the KCS approach is to have 1's be 8 cycles of 2400Hz tone, and 0's be 4 cycles of 1200Hz tone. I say cycles, because while 300 baud is the initial specification, there is also a 1200 baud specification available, so the duration of marks vs spaces (another way of saying 1's and 0's), is variable based on that baud rate. Many S-100 computers implemented it, as do a few contemporary proprietary designs.

The big 3 microcomputers of 1977 that revolutionized the industry (Apple II, Commodore PET 2001, and Tandy TRS-80 Model I) each have their own cassette interface implementation. It kept costs down, and it was easy to implement, all things considered. The Apple II and TRS-80 use off-the-shelf cassette deck connections like many other machines, whereas the original variant of the PET had an integrated cassette. Commodore later used external cassette decks with a proprietary connector, whereas many other companies abandoned tape before too long. Hell, even the original IBM PC has a cassette port, not that anybody bothered to use that. Each one used a different encoding format to store their data, rather than KCS.

Here's a sample of what an OSI-formatted tape sounds like.

And here's a Commodore formatted tape, specifically one with VIC-20 programs on it.

I won't subject you to the whole program, or we'd be here all day. The initial single tone that starts the segment is called the "leader", I've truncated it for the sake of your ears, as well as recorded them kinda quietly. I don't have any other tape formats on hand to demonstrate, but I think you get the idea.

You can do alot better than storing programs on tape, but you can also do alot worse -- it beats having to type in a program every time from scratch.

[once-a-singlet-nevemore]

The boneyards whisper at night.

Y'see, mechs get retired the same as pilots. There's only so much stress you can pump through a synethic core bundle before it fails to integrate combat systems properly and starts to lag. By that point, there's usually a new model anyway - a faster nerve track, better pylon designs, a new armour compound - something that leaves the defective platform outmoded.

So they ship the mech off the line and demob it. It's stripped of useful parts, materials, even most of the armatures and actuators. They break it down to the absolute basics, and then they put it in an arid storage facility to sit until one horrible day when the reserve might need activating.

They can't kill the mech, though. Even a synthetic intelligence has recognition as a person. But the mech doesn't own its own body or any of its constituent parts. So they have all these cores lined up in rows, out in a desert, unable to move or speak or find each other.

But they say the boneyards whisper at night

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1970 Chrysler 300 Hurst

One of the great unknowns about the 1970 Chrysler 300 Hurst is exactly how many cars were built. Estimates put the total as low as 485, and as high as 502 cars. Regardless of what the figure actually is, the car itself is a pretty special piece of machinery.

The 300 Hurst is a giant of a car at 19′ in length. All of the Hursts rolled off the production line finished in Spinnaker White. The cars were then shipped to the Hurst factory in Warminster, Pennsylvania, where a substantial transformation was performed. The first change to be made was the removal of the standard Chrysler steel hood skin, which was replaced with a fiberglass unit. This featured a decorative hood scoop and the obligatory set of recessed hood locks. The deck lid was also removed, and once again, a fiberglass replacement, complete with a spoiler integrated with the rear quarter panels, was also installed. The White paintwork was complimented by the addition of Satin Tan highlights and contrasting pinstripes, and the wheels were adorned with the same Satin Tan color in the centers. This Hurst is a clean car, with a small area of rust visible in the lower section of the driver’s side front fender, and surface corrosion present on the car’s underside. The Spinnaker White paint appears to be in good condition, but there has been some deterioration of the Satin Tan paint on both the hood and the deck lid. The exterior trim and chrome all look good, while the tinted glass is close to perfect.

The 300 Hurst was a premium car at a premium price, so naturally, it required a premium interior. In this case, seat upholstery was available in a single type and color. Continuing the exterior theme, the color is Saddle Tan, and the material is leather. The plush front seats are not standard 300 items but have been pilfered from the Imperial parts bin. While the original intention was for a Hurst shifter to be part of the interior features, this is something that never eventuated. The interior of this Hurst is close to perfect, with a single discolored spot on the dash pad being the most obvious fault. The rest of it presents in virtually as-new condition, and as befits a luxury car, it is loaded with luxury touches. These include air conditioning, power windows, six-way power seats, cruise control, a remote trunk release, and I think that there also might be an 8-track player hanging under the dash.

The 300 Hurst was the biggest of the muscle cars, and as such, it needed a big motor to get it moving. In this case, it is the TNT 440 engine, pumping out 375hp. The Hurst also features a 727 TorqueFlite transmission, a 3.23 rear end, power steering, power brakes, heavy-duty rear springs and front torsion bars, and sway bars. The exhaust was a full dual system, ending in quad tips. This Hurst hasn’t seen a lot of recent use, and documentation confirms that between 1986 and 2019, it managed to accumulate a grand total of 20 miles! Since being removed from its climate-controlled storage, it has undergone a meticulous mechanical check and recommissioning, and it is now said to run and drive perfectly. The owner does suggest that while the tires look good, they are pretty olds, and replacing them might be a good idea. He also says that the Hurst may need mufflers fairly soon. The car does come with a fair collection of documentation, including the original Build Sheet and Window Sticker, a pristine Certi-Card, Owner’s Manual, as well as dealer paperwork and other assorted items.

While there has always been some question surrounding the build totals for the 1970 300 Hurst, one thing is certain, and that is that there are less than 300 cars in existence today. Pristine examples can fetch sums in excess of $30,000, and even a rough example in need of restoration can still sell for anywhere around $13,000. This one doesn’t need a major restoration, but it does require some cosmetic work. I’m not sure where bidding is eventually going to go with this one, but I would suspect that it will be somewhere around the low to mid $20,000 mark. Even at that price, it probably wouldn’t be a bad buy.

[semiconductorwave]

Hotmail service was founded by Sabeer Bhatia and Jack Smith, and was one of the first webmail services on the Internet along with Four11's RocketMail (later Yahoo! Mail). It was commercially launched on July 4, 1996, symbolizing "freedom" from ISP-based email and the ability to access a user's inbox from anywhere in the world. The name "Hotmail" was chosen out of many possibilities ending in "-mail" as it included the letters HTML, the markup language used to create web pages (to emphasize this, the original type casing was "HoTMaiL"). The limit for free storage was 2 MB. Hotmail was initially backed by venture capital firm Draper Fisher Jurvetson. By December 1997, it reported more than 8.5 million subscribers. Hotmail initially ran under Solaris for mail services and Apache on FreeBSD for web services, before being partly converted to Microsoft products, using Windows Services for UNIX in the migration path.

Hotmail was sold to Microsoft in December 1997 for a reported $400 million (~$705 million in 2023), and it joined the MSN group of services. The sale had been preceded by a major incident in 1997 where all email was lost for 25% of mailboxes. Hotmail quickly gained in popularity as it was localized for different markets around the globe, and became the world's largest webmail service with more than 30 million active members reported by February 1999.

Hotmail originally ran on a mixture of FreeBSD and Solaris operating systems. A project was started to move Hotmail to Windows 2000. In June 2001, Microsoft claimed this had been completed; a few days later they retracted the statement and admitted that the DNS functions of the Hotmail system were still reliant on FreeBSD. In 2002 Hotmail still ran its infrastructure on UNIX servers, with only the front-end converted to Windows 2000. Later development saw the service tied with Microsoft's web authentication scheme, Microsoft Passport (now Microsoft account), and integration with Microsoft's instant messaging and social networking programs, MSN Messenger and MSN Spaces (later Windows Live Messenger and Windows Live Spaces, respectively).

[eevisims]

shore luxe apartments & coffee shop

luxe shore apartments are a modern apartment complex located in the city center of san myshuno, overlooking a stunning lake. the complex is well-equipped with various amenities such as a outside grill area & seating, coffee shop, 3 car garage, communal laundry, gym & pool. each unit has an integrated kitchen for a sleek & modern look. the apartments include spa-like bathrooms, 1 bedroom apartments even have their own bathtubs for an extra touch of luxury. the basement includes storage cages for all units, perfect for realism.

more information:

gallery id | eevisims | mark "show custom content" on the gallery

$560,537 lot type | residential rental & 6 units *it's a residential lot on the gallery since i don't own the pack yet* lot size | 30x30 location | san myshuno three 1 bedroom & 1 bathroom apartments & three studio apartments move in ready, unfurnished

amenities include:

outside grill area & seating, coffee shop, 3 car garage, communal laundry, gym & pool

cc used:

cc list here

additional notes:

everything is playtested & functional i'll upload a proper residential rental lot when i own the pack the doorbells might get annoying when playing in this lot because of the constant wall notifications the kitchen counters are a slightly different color compared to the cabinets, but the marble on the counters was too perfect not to use them. i hope it's not too much of a problem

download from my gallery

bb.moveobjects on packs shown in the gallery let me know if any cc is missing/anything else is wrong/a link isn't working thanks to all cc creators

[pumpkinpot]

Late night: Astarion

.

There was something about nighttime now. It was a peace Astarion wasn't familiar with. Chatter fell with the sun and the worries of the day seemed to press between the pages of an unfinished chapter, idle until morning.

The adjustment was violent to say the least. Astarion battled with himself for weeks upon integration into the party. Ink took to the sky and his mind broke into verse.

Should he loot everyone's bags for valuables? Now would be a perfect time to travel, find other camps and loot their bags or take a little bite of heavy sleepers.

Other people's willingness to trust the darkness was his best defense against their better judgement.

Here was annoyingly different. Trust was currency and you all delt generously. That didn't mean he wasn't himself, or rather the self that he had been molded into.

So he lie there on a stolen bedroll looking up at stars he'd become intimately familiar with and waited for exhaustion to take him. It would eventually take him, right?

The fire was in embers and soft breathing echoed through the shifting trees. He almost wished for someone to charge the camp. Torch in one hand, sword in the other. then at least his alertness would feel warranted.

Some time ago he memorized everyone's breathing patterns to scout who was a heavy enough sleeper to potentially drink from.

Shadowheart whimpered in her sleep and rolled around often. Halsin was an incredibly heavy sleeper, but Astarion wasn't willing to risk those bear arms catching him. Gale ground his teeth in his sleep and woke if the fire stayed out too long.

Karlach slept away from everyone and kept herself well guarded with boobytraps.

Wyll was his second choice behind Tav. He was a deep sleeper and didn't move much. Astarion intended to give him a try until seeing the knife under Wylls pillow.

It had been months since you had been generously feeding him, but Astation still kept the sleeping catalog in his mind. even now, he could locate everyone by their breaths.

Gale to the right. Shadowheart across the way, Tav-

An emptiness pressed in from the darkness. when had they gotten up, where the fuck did you go?

He squinted at your empty bedroll and then looked around. No movement caught his eye. He rolled onto his knees, throwing a bit of spirits and wood into the fire to keep Gale in his slumber.

This night was cooler than most. A welcomed surprise amongst a heatwave. Every night his week he's woken to a slab of sweat sticking his shirt to his back. Tonight it blew blissfully in the wind.

Tav was in none of the standing tents, nor the lake side, nor the storage trunks. He brought his hands up to his lips and blew between cupped fingers.

A perfect mourning dove call spread through the night. He doesn't know how or when he learned to do the imitation, but, he knew when he heard the song, it was time to venture back to the palace before sunrise.

It echoed in soft bouts of three with a break between to listen.

Ironically he'd never actually seen the bird.

That was then, now he used the song to find you when you wondered off. which was more often than he liked.

From somewhere in the thick of the trees he heard it. Soft and not as refined as his imitation, but still it was you. Wherever you'd ventured was beyond the reach of the fires light and he sighed frustrated lying before continuing.

He stepped into the sheet of increasing darkness until he was right beneath the call.

"up here," Tav whispered.

He looked around then up and to his dismay there the fuck you were, on a branch. In a tree.

"Why?" He sighed.

Tavs response must have been inaudible because none came. It was probably that insolent shrug. Astarion clamored up the lowest branch inching his way towards his squirrely companion.

"I'm too old to be climbing trees," He complained.

"I'm older than you," you retorted.

His eyes rolled. "only in human years."

"I think that should count for more where agility is concerned."

He didn't humor a response. His agility was fine. It was tested vigorously and consistently. Except not in tree climbing, which seemed to be oddly important to this particular adventurer.

A quiet disposition fell between the two. It could have been comfortable if the thin branch between Astarions legs was.

"Why aren't you asleep?" He asked, though his tone was harsher than intended.

"You've already fed on me tonight-"

"-Yes and this extra excursion could reopen your neck wound."

"did it?"

If it had, he would be able to smell it and it hadn't. "That's not the point."

"Is your drive to argue and criticize compulsive or some sick hobby?"

His mouth opened then closed. There you go again asking crypically deep questions he would think about later but needed to be witty about now. "A hobby, and I am rather good at it, so it seems or you wouldn't be deflecting-"

"Fuck Astarion I couldn't sleep."

Silence.

"Me either."

Silence. This one fell into one of those categories that could be argued wasn't silent at all. there was adjusting sighs and loud unspoken thoughts and a deafening need to not be silent.

"what was the city like at night?"

It wasn't a simple answer. He couldn't say there were nights he didn't even see the sky or that he scorned the warm pavement when he was out, because it got to be kissed by the sun. He couldn't say that for a few years into his spawn life he relished taking souls off the street because how dare they slink into his territory. into his hell when they had mornings.

It was different now, but only slightly. Night pressed you for answers to questions you didn't want to think about. There was nowhere to hide because it, itself was what you would hide in.

That's why people congregated under lamp posts and kept candles forward. Night wasn't cruel. She was- "Honest. After a certain hour the only ones left were the ones who were hurt enough to not look at the hour."

A break, a breath and a hushed smile. "Do you have the time?"

The corners of his lip tipped up. "No."

Now the night was as it should be. Now the silence could take hold of those who belonged in it. This was his peace.

[empyreaneve]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ Enjoy Minecraft RP? ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

empyrean

/ˌɛmpɪˈriːən,ˌɛmpʌɪˈriːən,ɛmˈpɪrɪən/ noun the highest part of heaven, thought by the ancients to be the realm of pure fire.

———————————————————————————————

Empyrean Eve SMP is an 18+ LGBTQIA+ roleplay server, running on 1.20.1 Java, modded with Forge. Our magic-centric setting, forever world mindset and modpack are here to put an emphasis on long-term, collaborative, member-driven narrative, writing, character customisation and fun with friends on Minecraft!

Heavy on writing, roleplay and improv, the server is geared towards characterisation and fun, KeepInventory on, building and putting weight on lore, with both text and voice rp supported as well as an integrated Toyhouse page which functions as a wiki and character storage, with members encouraged to post their own. Feel free to take a look! Empyrean Eve tells the story of the Empyrean - a world of floating islands, high fantasy creatures, people turned animal in exchange for immense magical power and the legacy of a weeping wizard, who created all of it in love and despair.

Despite only 1208 years of total existence, the times have been spurred to a medieval era thanks to the gift of magic - but such youth means that the world, and its fledgling societies and governments, are anything but set in stone, without a longer history to learn from. How will your characters mold it?

———————————————————————————————

What does the server have on offer? ☆ Origins and classes to customise your playstyle to your liking. Soon to have an all-custom origin spread! ☆ Detailed character and model customisation which goes beyond normal Minecraft bounds - with animated tails, animal body parts, accessories, body sliders, animal forms and more. ☆ A high fantasy modpack geared towards roleplay and gameplay immersion; a magic system, expanded cooking, flying mounts, overhauled vanilla animals, NPCs, new blocks and themed decorations, a modded floating island world and plenty of strange creatures that inhabit it. ☆ Existing towns and locations to move into! ☆ A tight-knit community of roleplayers - using both text and in-game proximity voice chat. ☆ An established setting with a story and lore, with member submitted lore being the lifeblood of the SMP! ☆ In-character and out-of-character events and festivals, for both lore and fun. ———————————————————————————————

Interested? Send in an ask to receive an invite! ⋆｡°✩

[political-us]

The current U.S. power grid is not fully prepared to handle the rising demand from AI, EVs, and crypto without significant upgrades. While the grid is evolving, challenges include aging infrastructure, transmission bottlenecks, and the need for more renewable energy integration. Here’s a breakdown of key factors:

1. Capacity vs. Demand Growth

• The grid has enough total generation capacity today, but localized demand spikes (like AI data centers or EV clusters) can strain certain regions.

• By 2035, electricity demand could rise by 15-25%, requiring hundreds of gigawatts (GW) of new capacity.

• Many utilities are already struggling to build out transmission lines fast enough to keep up with demand.

2. Grid Reliability & Stress Points

• AI & Data Centers: Large data centers are being built in regions where power supply is already constrained (e.g., Northern Virginia, Texas).

• EV Charging Peaks: If too many EVs charge at the same time, local grids could experience voltage drops or blackouts.

�� Extreme Weather: The grid is already vulnerable to extreme heat, storms, and wildfires, which could worsen with climate change.

3. Solutions & Grid Upgrades

• Transmission Expansion: The U.S. needs to build more high-voltage transmission lines to move power from wind/solar farms to urban areas.

• Battery Storage & AI for Grid Management: Advanced battery storage can smooth out supply-demand mismatches, and AI can optimize grid operations.

• Decentralized Energy: Microgrids, rooftop solar, and community battery projects can reduce strain on the centralized grid.

• Smart Charging for EVs: Managed charging (incentivizing off-peak charging) can help distribute demand more evenly.

Can the Grid Handle It?

• Short-term (2025-2030): The grid will face localized stress, especially in high-demand regions. Rolling blackouts or infrastructure failures could occur if upgrades don’t keep pace.

• Mid- to Long-term (2030+): If investments in transmission, renewables, and smart grid technology accelerate, the grid can handle these changes, but delays in modernization could lead to reliability issues.

[illmoure]

"load cell" - akon & mayuri

a prompt i sourced from @aitheria - akon and mayuri in canonverse, disagreement

The smell of burnt hair was strong first thing in the morning, warm bitterness singed keratin. Late night turned early morning in a windowless lab room, running on ethanol fumes and the adrenaline of all-night assessment and analysis. Kurotsuchi had been adamant that such-and-such cause would have this this-or-that effect; Akon had been dubious. 

Of course Mayuri’s science was solid and his protein synthesis was beyond compare, his amalgamations of amino acids an art form in and of themselves, but new horns having gone to his head, Akon had decided to test him. Countered with his own concentrations and ratios, proposing the perfect enzymatic equilibrium. Math theory a little half-baked for sure, but that wasn’t the point. Audaciously disagreeing, he dared to voice his doubts outright at the beginning of the night.

And it was with no small amount of smugness that Akon suggested they move onto the next test subject after the smoke had cleared. The specimen they had been working on was little more than charred flesh briquettes after so many hours and so many attempts. The systems couldn’t handle it; they’d essentially incinerated themselves in the process, helpless against the force of Mayuri’s high-octane entropy. 

Akon carted off their burnt remains and dumped them into the hazards incinerator. Cleaned and sanitized their work station while Mayuri dragged purple fingernails down his notes. Inspired annotations made in the margins in green ink. Akon unlocked the lab and headed into the hallway to retrieve their next cadaver from across the way. 

Nemu was still there waiting outside the door, hands clasped, even after glass had smashed into the wall beside her when she’d dared to ask how Mayuri was doing three hours ago. There were still shards in her braid. Akon pitied the infantilizing concern she was helpless to give him, beaten down at every opportunity. As of this moment, he realized as she watched him, he had become a victim of her scrutiny as she’d automatically deemed him a threat, honed in low on her frequency. His opposing Mayuri had been interpreted as ever so slightly dangerous, his disagreement a challenge, a hindrance to her master’s health.

To be fair, Akon had been at it for a while. 

They were designing a brand-new cadaver lab – sterile steel tables in rows, strategically placed drains in the insulated floors, lines and wires carefully coiffed at each station. Akon had not agreed with the arrangement of utensil cabinets in relation to the sinks and fume hoods. Mayuri had not listened. The secondary computer lab was in need of an overhaul – new motherboards and crystal displays. Mayuri had refused Akon’s proposal of a gridded multi-screen display in favor of something more streamlined. Mundane even – the second floor meeting room needed a new layer of paint, and Akon had preferred a color three shades darker than Mayuri. 

Superficial, and they had argued in light, unserious tones. Measuring the flow of their disagreement by pupil dilation, tool angle, and the pressure of fingertip presses against the plunger of a syringe. It had been gentle needling acupuncture on their beliefs and morals, Mayuri’s ego. It was harmless, essentially. But this experiment, this night, was something that mattered to his captain, a real intellectual passion. It held weight when it felt like a step closer to enlightenment, advancement, stimulation, and doubt from Akon was a shot at his pride and his scientific integrity. The intensity with which his captain worked through the night had been charged and intentional, almost defiant. 

Akon gave Nemu a semi-sympathetic look as he pushed the cart forward towards the large specimen storage unit. He adjusted the inventory with his initials, signed his name on a new materials request and checked out the subject profile before even unloading the cadaver. Meticulous, still, for he valued integrity as much as this game. 

For years, Akon had been a child to Mayuri; an apprentice, a student, a fledgling under his wing. But he was grown now, the undeniably appointed third seat with an intellect and independence that could finally be acknowledged and appreciated by his captain. Akon felt he had earned this right to disagree, to finally give voice to his own opinions and ideas. Arguing for the sake of it, just to see what Mayuri would do. Testing him with his own set of criteria and expectations, a reactionary reagent.  

So far, it had been trivial. Mayuri pulled rank and moved on, scoffing or clicking hollow yellow teeth, enamel rattling. Bristling, but not brandishing anything that would harm. It had been fun to watch him realize Akon’s autonomy, discovering the sort of man he was deciding he wanted to be. Letting him have his refusals and rebuttals and enjoying the way he spoke to him as a comrade, still allowing himself to be berated by choice and station. 

Akon was smug as he locked up the storage unit and moved back across the hall with their new materials, Nemu still watching him like a loyal bird of prey. 

“Here we go, captain,” Akon said once he’d anchored the table back down, locking casters in place and attaching the appropriate sensors and wires. The stimulant was prepped for the central line, set aside so his captain could have the honors. 

“And who do we have here?” Mayuri asked, raking his hands over the corpse in stasis, assessing the skin, the ridge of bone just beneath. Akon read from the file all the facts he knew his captain wanted to hear. 

“Excellent,” Mayuri grinned with renewed vigor. Fresh fingers scooped up the syringe and stuck it into the polyvinyl tubing. While the body reawakened and the systems found their natural rhythms, Mayuri beckoned Akon back over to his desk. 

“We’re using the delta formula this time,” he said with a voice as tight as a tripwire. Akon swallowed and watched as Mayuri titrated the sample, dialing in the next concentration. The delta mix had been Akon’s formulation, scratched out on that piece of paper like a hasty IOU. Akon could see it, trash-can wrinkled but laid out on the page of Mayuri’s notebook and held flat in the corners with a pen and a glass shootie of diluted morphine. 

Victorious self-satisfaction was bittersweet, watching Mayuri kneel to his own weakness of needing to know. Akon hadn’t genuinely doubted him, but it was a pleasant surprise to see things not going Mayuri’s way, which they both knew was part of the allure of their work. Even if it annoyed him, irritated his pride, Mayuri couldn’t help but respect the audacity he had to disagree with him, and he couldn’t risk not knowing the truth just because of his genius. If there was a chance Akon was right, he would have to take it. 

It would be a necessary factor in their future endeavors together. Either Akon would be right, and their knowledge would advance, science would continue marching on, or he would be wrong, and Mayuri could have the satisfaction of berating him for it, and all would be right with the world. With several vials of the new formula prepped, the body on the table began to stir, fingertips fighting the frozen fear of long-term sedation. Mayuri turned towards the table, and Akon took up his place at his side as they began anew.

(available on ao3 if you have an account)

[bloopitynoot]

Reading TGCF: Chapter Twenty-Three

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

I think top down tea shots will be my new thing. Look how cute it is seeing the tea leaves. Today I have a white tea with lavender and lemongrass. Very soothing, very tasty.

Also took off my second skin for my tattoo this morning and omg is my arm RAW. Its always hit and miss with the second skin for me. I love healing with it, but the removal is a little brutal. It tends to come off fine in some places and exfoliates a little too hard in others. Anyways, my skin is now free and breathing!

let's get into chapter 23:

"only good at dying and running away" oh poor buddy, seeing parallels in himself and Qi Rong. You really aren't the same people at all my guy :((( p249

What the heck! Excessive much?! This guy had 300 people-snacks in storage. That seems like a bit much, my guy. How often does he eat an entire person? p250

I love how Hua cheng deduced the real story of the Gilded Banquet because, at the heart of his theory, he just had so much faith and knowledge about the integrity of Xie Lian. p253

This guy, "you never know. I don't care if anyone else is disappointed. But to some, the very existence of a certain person in the world is in itself, hope." p253

Oh gosh, here comes the wind master interrupting A Moment between our boys. Xie Lian really was giving heart eyes and asking "who are you? :'3" p255

LOOOOL The Wind Master using his feminine wiles to scare poor Feng Xin into lowering his weapon. The power of those titties is out of control. p257

"Crimson Rain Sought Flower is your sworn brother" sure LOL we'll call him that. p261

Holy shit this man. That blood rain! What an absolute power move. omg Hua Cheng. p263

So Listen

I am a whole lesbian and even I think that Hua Cheng's exit in this chapter was hot as hell. What style, what class, what overt and completely unnecessary display of power. I'm not even mad that this was a short chapter because <chefs kiss>.

[homohomer]

this is probably the nerdiest rant i’ll ever go on but WHAT THE FUCK IS THE FALSETTOS CUBE MADE OUT OF. it perplexes me. it moves across the stage so easily that one person can push it (i think it’s on wheels but still). between songs every member of the cast including jason is moving them around the stage so they can’t be heavy. everyone is sitting on it so it can’t be that soft because if it was it wouldn’t be stable and everyone would be falling all over the place. jason’s crawling on the blocks for half the musical. but it can’t be that hard or dense because in march of the falsettos someone throws whizzer up a cube. and marvin punches the blocks at the end of marvin hits trina. and in falsettoland/about time they sway with the blocks and they they have enough structural integrity to not only built the houses and stuff but to sway without falling off the top. yet they collapse easily when pushed. AND some of them have storage because in making a home trina pulls a pillow out of them. if anyone knows PLEASE inform me because im losing my mind over this. WHAT ARE THEY MADE OUT OF!???!?!!!

[lena-hills]

New fic is up! Short fluffy hurt/comfort, because Kanan deserves getting some comfort too!

On Ao3 at A Touch of Home

Star Wars: Rebels, Kanan/Hera

Rated G, 2k words.

Summary: When Kanan tries to shrug off a crate to the head, Hera realizes her stubborn crew member needs a little extra care and tenderness.

“Stop struggling and let me touch you!”

Not words Hera would have pictured herself saying to Kanan before today, but the ridiculous man had the instincts of a feral tooka cat when injured.

“You don't have to worry about me, I’m fine,” her clearly wrong crewmate insisted. “It’s just a couple scratches. I’ll jump in the shower and kriff!” Kanan shouted with a jump as his hand grazed the apparently tender wound in an attempt to straighten his hair.

At Hera’s sternly raised eye towards the dark red mess now on his fingertips, he finally deflated and dropped onto the faded acceleration couch with a defeated sigh.

The crate he’d been lifting had been a practically ancient storage container, the structural integrity finally giving way to gravity as the brittle plasteel shattered over Kanan’s head and rained down to the floor.

“I know it stings going on, but I can use the numbing spray if you're worried?” Hera offered as she sanitized her hands and began pulling supplies out from the med kit.

“Nah, I’m fine. Nothing I haven't dealt with before.”

She scooted closer beside him and reached out to angle his head towards the light for a better view. Combing back some of the hairs that had come loose from his usual nerftail, her eyes were drawn to a dark shadow deeper into his hairline. It wasn't a piece of plasteel, but a jagged, raised scar. “I can see that,” she said, running a quick finger over the line to check that no shards had found their way into the still faintly puckered line of skin. “I might not be a medic, but I promise I’m better than whoever treated this one.”

A wry chuckle from Kanan made his head wriggle in her hands. “Yeah, whiskey and dura-tape aren't the best choices for medical supplies. But you work with what you've got.”

At her look of concern he added, “Street kids don't get bacta patches. I learned to improvise.” The casual shrug that accompanied the words was too overdone to be natural, a move clearly crafted to soothe away her worries over him. “It's fine. I'm just more used to patching myself up when something like this happens.”

A bleak picture formed in her mind as she worked to remove the scattered slivers - the sweet young boy she'd sometimes catch glimpses of in Kanan’s eyes in quiet moments, suddenly abandoned and forced to survive entirely alone. He always jumped to do whatever job she needed, quick to volunteer for washing dishes or scrambling under the engine for repairs. She’d assumed he just liked to stay busy, but the tension in his shoulders and words at her insistence to help him for once were hinting towards something different.

“There,” she said, carefully laying the small bacta patch over the now-cleaned wound. “That should stop the bleeding, and the worst of the shards are out.”

Kanan quickly sat up. “Thanks. I’ll go start cleaning up the mess in the cargo bay.”

“No you will not,” Hera ordered, grabbing his sleeve and tugging him back down. “I said the worst of it. Those little pieces are sharp and get everywhere, I still need to check nothing else is buried in that fur of yours.”

That got her a small smile at least.

“On humans it's called hair.”

Hera shook her head. “I’ve seen you shirtless, it's definitely fur. Long fur and short fur maybe, but fur.”

“You shouldn't have to worry about me,” he tried next, not pulling further away but not settling back into the couch either. “I can take care of myself, I swear.”

“Just because you can doesn't mean you have to. We look out for each other now.” She released his sleeve but let her hand slip down to catch his, trying to give back a measure of the support and care he was always so eager to give to her. “And I’m the one who took on questionable cargo. If there had been something sharper or dangerous inside-”

Kanan interrupted her worried rant with a soft, “Hey.” The solid hand she held gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Being here with you is the longest I’ve gone without getting into a bar brawl in years. I was overdue for a mild stabbing or black eye, keeps me on my toes.”

Of course he would try to turn this around to make her smile when he was the one who was injured.

But not today. It was Kanan’s turn to be taken care of for once. He wasn't alone anymore, she just needed to make him see it.

“I need to check the rest of your hairy-fur for more pieces so you don't bleed on my ship,” she said firmly, guiding him to lean back against her as she knelt beside him on the couch. The look he gave over his broad shoulder was still somewhat wary, but he followed her lead.

Hera slowly worked her fingers through the soft strands, peering close for any remaining slivers of plasteel while also trying to mimic the soothing touches Kanan had given her when she was sick. Lifting the long hairs as she worked, she realized they had something of a mind of their own, not unlike lekku. “It only wants to go straight back? Why doesn't it stay where I put it?” she asked, watching the chunks of hair move and twist as she attempted to part and section.

“It's what it's used to,” he explained. “If you always have it one way, that's how it’s going to try to stay.”

“Maybe it's good to try something different once in a while,” Hera said gently. She wondered if he understood her meaning as her fingers cautiously combed through the surprisingly long lengths, soft as synthsilk as they drifted over her skin and smelling faintly of her fruit-scented soap she'd offered to share. “It looks nice down.”

“Thanks.” The word was quiet, but the slight softening of the tension where his hand lay over his knee made Hera smile.

Mostly certain her patient was now cleared of potential danger, she began to slowly draw her fingernails over his scalp in a gentle massage. What had seemed a solid color of rich brown when tied back now reflected the light with a beautiful mix of honey golds and deep reds as she stroked his head. The visuals were so distracting she nearly missed the warning signs of a serious medical complication.

“Kanan, do you have any allergies? Like, to bacta or something?” she asked, trying not to sound panicked. The med kit had basic antihistamines, but the sudden flush of hives down both of his forearms was rapidly becoming terrifying.

“No, why?”

At her horrified pointing to his bumpy skin, Kanan merely waved her off with, “It's just goosebumps,” as if that was a helpful explanation.

“Where did you catch a disease from a goose?”

The laugh he gave was warm and far more relaxed than Hera considered appropriate for the situation. “Not a disease,” he explained. “It's a thing human skin does to our hair, see?” He took her hand and ran her finger slowly over his skin, letting her feel the little tiny hairs sticking up on the bumps. “Perfectly normal. Happens when we get cold and stuff.

Hera bent down to examine more closely. “Should I get you a blanket or turn up the heat? Do humans need a warmer temperature when injured?”

Kanan flushed slightly and looked down. “No, it, uh,” he stammered. “What you were doing, it just felt nice.”

“Oh.”

It seemed her plan was working better than she'd thought.

Not that Hera was finished yet.

“Sit tight a moment,” she said, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze as she got up from the couch. “I need to grab something.”

The confusion on his face when she returned a few minutes later was absolutely worth the effort. “You can cook?” he asked, looking mystified but touched at the two steaming mugs of soup gripped in her hand as she placed them on the table.

“My secret recipe; spicy instant noodles with an egg dropped in,” she declared, pulling two spoons from her pocket and putting them in each mug with a flourish. “More expensive than ration packs, definitely less healthy, but perfect for when you're sick.”

“I had a crate land on my head,” he said, his lips curling up in a soft smile that made her chest tighten. “That's not sick.”

Hera bent forward to gently place the cold-pack she had grabbed from the food-saver on the dark bruise slowly growing at the corner of his hairline. “Close enough.”

“Thanks, for all of this,” Kanan murmured in his rich, warm voice just as Chopper rolled in to join them.

The mammal is still alive? her droid beeped, sending his optical sensors examining Kanan’s proximity to her with clear displeasure. This unit can rectify that!

“C1-10P,” she reprimanded, “we do not speak like that to family.”

Since when does the monkey count as family? Chopper warbled with dismay.

“Since I said so,” Hera said firmly. “This is Kanan’s home too. Be nice.”

The sounds her astromech made as he spun away were about as far from nice as mechanically possible, but they didn't seem to upset Kanan.

“Family?” he asked, the word a whisper as he stared at her with hope and wonder in his gentle eyes.

“Yes,” she said with a firm nod. Whatever happened to them, wherever her mission against the Empire led, she could at least make sure Kanan learned he deserved to be cared for too. “Family.”

While the Ghost would always be home, Hera did miss the automated dishwasher from their house on Lothal. Especially when her usual ship’s ‘dishwasher’ was out of commission.

Kanan lay curled up on one half of the acceleration couch with Jacen on the other, both wrapped in blankets and passed out again. Twi’leks were fortunately immune to Corellian flu, but it seemed human-Twi’lek hybrids were not, with both father and son running the usual gamut of aches, mild fevers, and exhaustion.

Despite all of that, somehow Kanan still was alert enough to hear the clinking of their mugs from supper being placed in the drying rack.

“I’ll get dishes,” he mumbled groggily, one hand stretched out to try to find the table as a guide.

“You will stay right where you are, mister,” Hera said in the tone that, even while feverish, her husband should recognize meant no arguing. “General’s orders.”

Making her way back from the kitchen, she was pleased to note that he still had sense enough to listen. Two furry heads, one rich browns with faint streaks of silver that caught the light and one bright green, lay quietly on the faded orange cushions.

When Hera slipped back into her seat between them, both quickly snuggled up against her, Jacen’s head pressed into her leg while Kanan instinctively shifted up into his favorite spot in her lap. Her hands fell into comfortable old patterns, tenderly running through her boys’ soft hair with quiet, soothing pets. Jacen merely made a soft, sleepy hmmm sound at the touches and curled deeper into his blanket, while his father’s head turned back and forth and pressed into her hand like Sabine’s Loth-cath when it demanded scritches, all while making a low, contented groan.

What a difference fifteen years together could make.

“Wake me up if you need anything,” Kanan said, words slightly muffled against her thigh.

Well, perhaps not entirely different.

“You're the sick one, love, Try the other way around,” she said with a gentle laugh.

His hands abandoned the blanket, one stretching over her lap to lay on Jacen’s shoulder while the other wrapped possessively around her knee. “I have everything I could ever need, right here.”

Hera resumed the slow tracing of her fingernails over his scalp in the way that always made him relax for her. “I know, love. Me too.”