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cavitywallinsulationinstallers · 3 months

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Unveiling the Hidden Power of Wall Insulation: Your Key to Comfort and Savings

Welcome to the world of home improvement, where the unsung hero, wall insulation, takes center stage. If you've ever wondered how to enhance your comfort, save on energy bills, and contribute to a greener planet, you're in for a treat. Let's delve into the nitty-gritty of why wall insulation is not just an option but a game-changer for your humble abode.

The Basics: What is Wall Insulation?

Wall insulation is like the cozy sweater for your home - it keeps the warmth in during winter and the coolness in during summer. It's the unsung guardian that shields your space from the relentless whims of Mother Nature, ensuring you stay snug without burning a hole in your pocket.

Why Should You Care?

1. Energy Efficiency Galore

Imagine your home as a leaky bucket, and your precious energy dollars are the water dribbling away. Wall insulation acts as the trusty patch that stops the leaks, making your home more energy-efficient. This isn't just about staying warm in winter; it's about keeping your hard-earned cash from seeping out through the walls.

2. Comfort Redefined

Ever experienced the joy of stepping into a temperature-controlled oasis on a scorching summer day? That's the magic of well-insulated walls. It's like having a thermostat that caters to your comfort, providing a haven where you can escape the extremes of weather.

3. Whispering to Mother Earth

In an era where climate change is more than just a buzzword, wall insulation is your silent contribution to a sustainable future. By reducing your energy consumption, you're not just saving on bills; you're also lessening your carbon footprint. It's the eco-friendly choice that Mother Earth applauds.

Types of Wall Insulation

Choosing the right wall insulation is akin to finding the perfect pair of shoes – it has to fit just right. Let's explore the options:

1. Fiberglass Insulation: The All-Weather Companion

Made from tiny glass fibers, it's the resilient warrior that battles against heat, cold, and sound.

Tip: Think of it as the armor that shields your castle from temperature invaders.

2. Cellulose Insulation: The Eco-Warrior

Crafted from recycled paper, it's the green champion that keeps you warm while saving trees.

Fun fact: It's like wrapping your home in a cozy newspaper blanket, minus the ink stains.

3. Spray Foam Insulation: The Precision Artist

A versatile option that expands to fill every nook and cranny, creating an airtight seal.

Analogy time: It's like giving your walls a snug hug, leaving no room for drafts.

DIY or Professional Installation?

The age-old debate: to DIY or not to DIY. Let's break it down:

DIY - The Brave Heart Approach

Pros:

Cost-effective: Savings galore if you're handy with tools.

Satisfaction: Nothing beats the pride of saying, "I insulated my own home!"

Cons:

Time-consuming: DIY projects can be a slow burn.

Potential mishaps: One wrong move, and your insulation dreams could turn into a nightmare.

Professional Installation - The Peace of Mind Route

Pros:

Expertise: Trained professionals ensure it's done right the first time.

Time-saving: Sit back and relax while the experts work their magic.

Cons:

Cost: Quality comes at a price, and professional installation is an investment.

The Budget Talk

You've decided to take the plunge, but the budget is looming like a dark cloud. Fear not, for the investment in wall insulation is more than just an expense – it's a savings account that pays dividends over time.

Considerations:

Long-term savings: Think of it as a financial time machine that pays you back through lower energy bills.

Home value: Insulation is an asset; potential buyers appreciate an energy-efficient home.

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Conclusion: Wrapping Up the Cozy Tale

In the grand saga of home improvement, wall insulation emerges as the unsung hero, the knight in shining armor, and the eco-friendly wizard all rolled into one. It's not just about bricks and mortar; it's about creating a haven where comfort meets savings.

So, dear homeowner, as you stand at the crossroads of insulation decisions, remember that the walls are whispering secrets – secrets of a home that embraces you in warmth, protects your wallet, and shares a friendly nod with the environment. The choice is yours, but the benefits are undeniable.

Step into a world where your home is not just a structure; it's a sanctuary crafted with care, where the walls tell a tale of comfort, savings, and a nod to a greener tomorrow.

If You Need More Information Please Follow-https://cavity-wall-insulation.uk/

#Cavity Wall Insulation Installers #Youtube

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pollylynn · 3 years

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Title: A Trembling Of WC: 1800

“How’s that for love?” — Tildy Maguire, For Better or Worse (6 x 23)

He loves her and he fears her. These are the anchoring points of their relationship—the anchoring points of his whole world, these days, and three words from a city employee should not be able to pry them up and set the two of them adrift. Proof of divorce? Nothing in this or any other universe should be able to pry them up and set the two of them adrift, and yet here they are. He loves her no less—he could never love her any less—but right now, he fears for her, and that is a rip in the very fabric of reality. But how can he do otherwise?

Here she is, silent in the back of the cab. She has not said—will not say—one word as they lurch their way through the horrors of late afternoon traffic in Manhattan, and he’d like to think it’s the inadequate privacy offered by the plexiglass barrier that has sealed her lips. He’d like to believe that she’s so enchanted by the memory of the days when Paul Sorvino or Joe Torre or Eartha Kitt reminded New York taxi passengers to buckle up, take their belongings, get a receipt before exiting the back seat, she has nothing to say about the present. He’d like to believe that three words from a city employee have not fundamentally altered her lovable, fear-inspiring self, and yet . . .

Here she is, finally home, and yet there is nothing like relief here. There is nothing like relief anywhere in sight. Here she is with her head in her hands, and they’re telling his mother, they’re telling his daughter, because they kind of have to tell them. They very probably are kind of going to have to tell everyone, but this tiny test balloon at him is so awful.

His mother—she of the child-producing one-night stand with a probable sociopath is volubly incredulous: Who is Rogan O’Leary? His daughter—she of the lease with the bee-counting, continent-hopping, passport-losing peace disturbing Pi is volubly appalled: And you married him? He of an untold number of colossal mistakes in the personal and professional realms, in the public eye and in private, is damnably smug: And here I thought you were a one and done kind of girl.

He regrets it the instant it’s out of his mouth. He bounces around the tattered remnants of reality. He goes back in time and regrets it, except there is a moment, there is an instant, there is the merest spark of absolute fury behind her eyes, and he feels the world come right. He feels reality knitting itself back up again. He feels himself quaking in his bespoke boots, secure in the knowledge that she will make him pay, and he is fine with that. He is absolutely fine.

He loves her and he fears her, these are the anchors of his entire world, gloriously restored, and that is just as it should be.

*****************************

He loves her and he fears her and he loves her just that little bit more when everything fearsome about her is directed at someone else. Oh, how he loves being able to watch the fireworks from minimum safe distance, so he’s excited when she sets off for Willow Creek. He’s racked with guilt and uncertainty, too, because she’s going alone and he worries that it’s self-flagellation—that it’s an occasion to be afraid for her—but ultimately, he’s excited.

She is determined when she leaves. She has her keys clutched in her fist and she won’t take an overnight bag.

“Not even a toothbrush?” He turns up the innocence. It’s a calculated risk. It’s more fuel for the fire that burning in her, fierce and bright now, and it works.

“Not. Even. A toothbrush.” She enunciates each and every letter. She grabs the front of his shirt with her free hand and reels him in until they’re sharing air molecules. “Won’t need it.”

And then she’s gone, but not gone.

She is on the other end of the phone as soon as she has hunted down her soon-but-not-soon-enough-to-be ex. She is fierce, roaring as she rails against the stupidity of the quest he’s sent her on.

“Like he’s the damned Wizard of Oz,” she snarls.

“More like the Wizard of Id,” he quips. He’s thinking about being eighteen and all primitive instinct. He’s thinking about drunken nights on the strip and impulse weddings. He’s not really thinking, and it’s fuel for the fire. He swears she’s scorched his ear, she’s scorched the whole side of his brain closest to the phone, so maybe that’s a little too much fuel.

Except he thinks that might be what sustains her through the abduction of Rogan, through the indifference and grudging pity of the local constabulary. He tells himself on his own frantic drive up to Willow Creek that he’s managed to make her spitting mad enough that she’s not sitting there, alone, with her head in her hands.

It’s true. It’s mostly true that she’s down to embers when he gets there, but there’s more than enough Logan-related fury to go around. There’s coma wife and the sheer madness of digging through his pornographic electronic mash notes. There are bikers and strippers and a murderous mob boss. There is an entire Logan-based mad, mad, mad, mad world and she is definitely mad about it.

She is quick thinking and—other than a few slightly moist moments about the dress—she is laser focused on getting this done. She is mean to Logan, and after the whole Man Parts contretemps, that is a delight and a turn on and the world turning beautifully on its axis precisely as it should turn.

She is a warrior goddess, hell bent on marrying him—him—and he is blown away by that honor and privilege.

He loves her. He fears her. He’s going to marry her.

*********************

He loves her. He just loves her. It’s hard for them to part ways in stupid Willow Creek, but there’s really nothing for it. She has her car, and he has his. He has to get to the city. He has to start the paperwork on its warp speed journey through the system, and she has to get to the Hamptons to figure out what she’s going to wear.

“I’m all for nothing at—“

She cuts that off with a twist of his ear that takes him right back to the beginning—right back to when she was Our Lady of Smug, patron saint of the One and Done Girl—and that makes it really hard to part ways, because he would love to get in some last-minute fear and trembling in one back seat or the other before she makes an honest man of him. He really would but there’s just no time. He has to settle for backing her up hard against the driver’s side door of her car and kissing the life out of her. He has to settle for the same as she backs him up hard against the passenger side door of his car where it’s pulled up alongside hers. They have to settle for peeling their bodies apart, breathless, eager, and reluctant, all at once.

“Be safe,” she breathes, her forehead pressed against his. “Hurry, but be safe.”

“You, too.” He steals one last kiss, then hurries around the hood to slide behind the wheel, to get on with it.

He’s not three miles down the road when his phone rings through the car’s bluetooth. He feels an eager grin spread across his face as he thumbs the button. “Miss me already?”

“No,” she retorts immediately, adamantly. “Yes,” she admits slowly, reluctantly. “Shut up,” she orders, shooting an arrow of fear right through his heart, though it softens—it downright melts—when she adds, “Keep me company.”

He does. He keeps her company, though there’s not a lot of heavy lifting involved. She wants to talk—a positivity rarity for her—and other than her, there’s little he loves more in this stitched-up, much-mended reality than to listen when the mood strikes her. So he listens as she wanders far and wide, as she roams through the month or so of Rogan, and when the time is right, he is going to have so many follow-up questions about where Eddie Vedder’s jean jacket wound up and exactly how far she can chuck a hoagie while running down the strip full tilt.

It’s not all fun and games, though. How could it be? But it’s okay. He loves her. He loves her, and when it comes to the place where this was always leading, he’s there. He’s on the other end of the phone. He’s listening.

“I was married then. When my mom died.” Her voice is even. It’s controlled, though he can hear her heaving a shaky sigh. “I told her the whole saga.” Another shaky sigh.”Almost the whole saga with Rogan. We laughed about it.” There’s a silence long enough that he’s worried the call has dropped, but her voice fills up the speakers again. “I feel like I have to . . . confess to her or something. Give her a chance to say I told you so. I feel like I owe her that.”

It’s a heartsore place for things to land. He doesn’t have a joke or anything gallant locked and loaded, but that doesn’t feel right anyway. He’d tear another hole in the fabric of reality if he could. He’d give her closure. He will give her closure if he can—a trip to her mom’s grave with her hand in his, a letter written and burned, its ashes scattered on the wind, whatever she wants, he’ll do.

“I’m okay, Castle,” she says quietly, she says knowing he was wondering. “Really.”

“I know you are,” he says, and it’s true. “I’m glad you are.”

That’s true, too, in the most comprehensive sense. He is glad she’s okay. He is glad of whoever, whatever, however she is in any given moment.

He hears the road beneath his own tires, the road beneath hers. She stays on the line, though she is quiet now and a little sad. She wants things he can’t give her—he hasn’t yet devised a way to give her—and that’s a little maddening. But she is more than okay, and he is more than okay with that. She is fierce and fear-inducing and lonely for her mom and a little bit raw right now.

He loves her and he fears her. He has the twin anchors for his whole world on the other end of the line. That’s as it should be.

A/N: A group of finches is called a trembling. That is a thing. This is not a thing. It is an uneven atrocity, not a thing.

images via homeofthenutty

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 6 #Castle: For Better or Worse #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Martha Rodgers #Alexis Castle #Johanna Beckett #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Interrogatives?

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jango-fettish · 3 years

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The Asterian Saga: The Jedi

Chapter 1

Summary: As the daughter of a High Priestess of Asteria, Paghs Makosh was forced to live two lives: one of a Jedi and one that followed traditional Asterian ideals. After returning from a year long exploratory mission in uncharted space, Paghs discovers that her once peaceful home planet is on the brink of a civil war and those in charge, including her mother, are doing nothing to help the people. Now, Paghs must now grapple with her own beliefs and fears as her understanding of the Force and her place in the universe is tested by unforeseen forces.

Rating: R

Pairings: None yet; will be WolffeXOC

Warnings: descriptions of violence and injuries, death, talk of death/meaning of life (sorry if I forgot any, I am new at this)

Word Count: 2851

a/n: This is an OC story, so there is no use of “y/n” or second person perspective. The OC and her planet/culture are entirely my own creation: I cannot take credit for anything else. This takes place during TCW, but I have altered the timeline to fit my story, oops.

Gif by celebrate-the-clone-wars. Can be found here

They had been taken by surprise, not realizing they were being followed until it was too late. The planetary monitoring systems on The Spectator had picked up no life forms or machinery in the sector the 00 Covert Commando Platoon landed in. It was supposed to be simple and easy, they were only surveying the land.

The sound of blasters being fired was quickly followed by horrified yells and monstrous growls. The planet they landed on, Cromia P0F5 as the troopers called it, offered little options for cover, with only a few boulders and sparse trees jutting out from the barren ground granting the 36 troopers safety from the assault.

Jedi Master Paghs Makosh of Asteria crouched behind a large rock with two of her men, Clone Commander Crusher and Dent. She was as much as a shinie as Dent was, with this being her first melee since passing her Trials and being sent on this exploratory mission.

“Only took 326 days to see some sort of action,” Dent joked, as he fired at the enemy.

“What are we dealing with, Commander?” Paghs asked, ignoring Dent. She would have found his comment more amusing, had it not been for a large boulder that flew inches from her head moments before she found cover with the two.

“Ground scans say 40 beings approaching from the west,” Crusher said.

“How did our initial scans not pick this up?” Paghs asked herself.

“Pace said they looked similar to Trandoshans,” Dent commented.

Paghs cursed. She hadn’t been able to get a clear look at the creatures when they first attacked. If the creatures were similar to the cold-blooded species she was so used to seeing around the Republic, then they could surely have the ability to camouflage themselves from the scanners on The Spectator.

“I hate lizards,” Crusher mumbled.

Paghs clicked a button on her wrist communicator, opening the direct line with The Spectator. She didn’t have time to worry about scrambling their signal, “Captain, I’m going to need an immediate pick up in sector 3. I repeat, immediate pick up in sector 3.”

“General,” the ship captain’s voice responded, “Sector 3 is surrounded by mountains, it’ll be difficult to navigate.”

“Just do it!” she shouted in the communicator before ending the call.

The snarls and growls and awful hissing noises from the unseen enemy suddenly stopped. It was too quiet, the only thing Paghs could hear was her heartbeat thumping in her ears. Her grip on her lightsaber was tight enough to make the orchid-colored skin of her knuckles nearly white.

The surrounding mountains did little to hide the scorching heat of the setting sun. A bead of sweat dripped down her forehead. As she wiped it away with the back of her hand, she felt a roll of uneasiness pass through her. It was like a thousand pins were being pricked into her skin, not hard enough to cause pain, but enough for her to be uncomfortable. It was a sign of danger.

“Move!” she yelled to the two clones. She tried to Force push them out of the way, but the top of the rock they were hiding behind suddenly shattered, launching Paghs forward a few feet.

Her chest hit the ground harder than expected, but it was her hands that took the brunt of the fall. Tiny rocks made a home for themselves in her palms and she could already feel the bruising begin to form. The rough landing disengaged her lightsaber, the green blade disappeared with a small hiss. Crusher landed to her right, far more gracefully than she had. He quickly positioned his weapon toward the rock. Paghs managed to roll to back, ignoring the burning ache that settled in her body.

She heard Dent’s screams before she realized what she was looking at.

“Great Goddess,” Paghs said in horror.

Hunched over the broken rock was a large lizard-like creature, it’s scaly arm outstretched and holding onto Dent’s neck. Three sharp claws dug into the clone’s helmet, puncturing the plastoid-alloy material. He was screaming, trying to get his gun at the ready, but his screams only seemed to piss the creature off more. With a single squeeze from the large claw of a hand, the scream was replaced with a sharp snap.

“Dent!” Paghs screamed, scrambling to her feet as the creature threw his lifeless body haphazardly to the side.

“Definitely uglier than Trandoshans,” Crusher commented. She didn’t say respond, afraid that if she opened her mouth, more than just words would come out.

The creature slowly began climbing down the rock, its body contorting to easily get around the jagged edges. Two black beady eyes examined her from their giant scaly sockets. It stood on all fours, its barbed tail, which was equally as sharp as its claws, whipped through the air with a crack. The creature’s large mouth curved upwards into an open smile, revealing razor sharp teeth. It was mocking them, mocking the death of their comrade. She didn’t notice two smaller creatures approaching from the sides until she felt a hand grab her arm, forcing her into a retreat.

Scrambling to her feet, Paghs ran towards the rendezvous point. The Spectator was a klick away, hovering above the ground. A few of the faster clones had made it aboard. Those that struggled to keep up were taken down from their flanks by the pack of creatures. It was a hunt for them. They were being hunted.

“Ahh!” Paghs heard from her right as one of the smaller creatures swiped at Crusher’s feet, bringing him down. She skidded to a halt, igniting her lightsaber. Crusher’s helmet was forced off his head in the fall, landing at Paghs’s feet.

The smaller creature swatted at the fallen trooper, dragging its claws down his face. Crusher screamed in pain, pulling the trigger of his blaster and unloading everything into the creature’s body. It cried out in pain and in a puff of smoke, it slumped over and fell to the side.

Paghs ran to Crusher’s side. She couldn’t look at his face, too fearful of the bloody mess that would be looking back at her. Her mind was racing as she knelt next to him. She was supposed to protect him, she was supposed to protect all of them and she was failing.

Crusher groaned in pain. His hand reached to his right ankle; it having been injured in the fall.

“General, watch out!” Crusher called.

His warning came too late.

She heard a whoosh through the air, as the creature she thought Crusher had killed, swung its formidable tail at her. She tumbled forward, the air violently escaping from her lungs for a second time. Her hands and face scarped on the gravel laden ground. There was a searing pain in her back, but she was too dazed from the fall to react. As the creature ripped its tail free from the skin of her back, a few of the spikes broke off and rooted themselves into her flesh.

This time she screamed.

The creature grabbed her ankle, pulling her closer to its mangled body. She squirmed, turning onto her back. She bit the insides of her cheeks bloody, holding in her cries as the ground pushed the spikes further into her back. The creature jumped on top of her and began swiping its claws towards her face. Paghs used her weaning strength to keep the creature at bay, holding onto its arms. It roared, the loud guttural tone drowning out the screams of troopers. It lurched its ghastly face forward, teeth bared and dripping with saliva.

“I kriffing hate lizards!” She heard Crusher yell before a red blaster shot hit the creature in its head.

The creature’s black eyes slowly lost their life and its body began to grow heavy. It dropped dead to the ground, half of it still laying on Paghs. Its open jaw just missed her face. She mustered her strength and attempted to push it off of her, the muscles in her arms throbbing with each push.

“I got you, General,” Crusher said from behind her. He looped his arms under hers and began dragging Paghs’s out from under the creature. She cried out in pain as one of the barbs in her back was pushed down, elongating the cut it had originally made.

“I know, I know…I’m sorry,” Crusher whispered.

“We are not going to die on this stupid planet,” Paghs growled when she was finally free. She tried to ignore the searing pain in her back and could feel the blood freely flowing down and seep into the leather plackart.

She wrapped her arm around Crusher, his ankle no longer able to keep him standing steadily. They were surrounded by at least six of the creatures, each growling ferociously and circling around them as animals did when they cornered their prey. Paghs looked around, trying to find a weak point in their circle.

“General,” a voice from her wrist communication device called, “Are you alright? We lost sight of you for a moment.”

“I’m fine,” she said, “Captain, move the ship to my starboard, keep her a good 40 feet from the ground, we don’t know how high these things can jump.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What do you have planned?” Crusher said weakly. He was pointing his gun at the largest creature, the one that killed Dent.

“You are not going to like it,” she answered.

“Paghs,” Crusher warned.

“Do you trust me?” she asked.

He paused for a moment, “With my life.”

“We’re going to be okay,” she said, finally looking at Crusher. “You’re going to be okay.”

*********

“General, are you okay? General?” a voice asked, forcing the Asterian out of her memories. It was the warm hand on her shoulder that fully pulled her back to reality. She jumped up, nearly falling out of her seat. Crusher stood next to her, his helmet was placed on the table next to her. Three jagged lines were painted into the side of it. Crusher told her it was a memorial to the people they lost, Paghs just thought it was another way to remember a terrible day.

“You sure you’re a Jedi?” Crusher jested. Though his tone was light, Paghs could see concern in his eyes. “You’ve been staring at this blasted thing for hours. ”

Paghs turned in her seat lethargically to stare at the blue toned holomap of Cromia P0F5. It had been weeks since they escaped the planet, weeks since she even thought of those creatures, of the men she lost. Her mouth felt dry.

“Sorry,” she said, clearing her throat, “Was just trying to finish the write up.”

“Thought I told you I was going to do that,” Crusher said, narrowing his eyes at her.

She looked at him, or rather looked at the scars that ran down half of his face. The three thin lines were pink and irritated, one running through the corner of his mouth giving him a permanent frown. She wondered if they hurt as much as or more than her own. The medic droid did what it could, but Bacta couldn’t fix everything.

“I’m faster at it,” she replied, trying not to catch his eyes.

“It’s been weeks,” he said flatly. She didn’t respond and looked away in shame. “Am I really that ugly to look at?”

Paghs tried to choke on her laugh, “Sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry,” he said with a sigh. He pulled back an open chair next to her and sat down. “We’ll be back in Coruscant in less than six hours, which means you’ll be presenting everything to the Senate in seven.”

“Unless this ship falls apart first,” she snorted. The Spectator, while a good ship, was old and outdated.

“Go get some rest, I’ll finish this report.”

“Jeez, I thought I was the superior officer here,” she half-heartedly joked. “I’ve had enough rest, thank you very much.” It was a lie. She had barely been able to sleep through the nights, plagued by nightmares.

“You excited to be back?” she asked, wanting to change the subject. She stretched her arms up, feeling a twinge of pain in her back as the skin stretched.

“I’m excited to not be stuck on this ship anymore,” Crusher said nonchalantly.

“Is my company really that bad?”

“Not as bad as the food.”

“You wound me,” Paghs said, dramatically putting a hand to her chest. “After all I have done for you, this is how you treat me.”

“Are you excited to be back?” Crusher asked, ignoring her theatrics.

“Oh totally,” she said sarcastically, “I am so ready to face the Senate and tell them all about our little adventures. You know she’s probably going to be there. That woman is insufferable.”

“Aren’t all Senators?”

“You know what Master Plo told me before communications with the Republic cut off? That she is the leader of the damn opposition for this mission.”

“You let her affect your feelings too much.”

“Great Goddess, you sound like the Council,” she said.

“Something else bothering you?” Crusher asked. He knew the answer. Of course something else was bothering her.

“I’m fine,” she lied.

“The boys are worried about you.”

She sighed and leaned back in the chair, running her hands through her silver hair, letting her fingers tug at the knots. She looked back at the holomap of Cromia P0F5, a deep frown settling on her face.

“You’ve been thinking about it again, haven’t you?” Crusher asked, breaking the silence.

“I always think about it,” she whispered.

“There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

“I could have felt around in the Force, acted quicker. I could have saved everyone.” Paghs knew it wasn’t exactly how the Force worked, but she felt like she had to make an excuse for what happened.

“This is what we were created for, General. To die in battle...to die for the Republic is an honor for any clone.”

“It’s also an honor to see what you are fighting for survive,” Paghs countered. “You’re not just soldiers...you’re men,” she paused, “They at least deserved a proper burial.”

“Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la,” Crusher said softly. Paghs had heard the Mando’a words multiple times since their time on Cromia P035. One of the medic clones had told her it was the Mandalorian words for the departed: Not gone, merely marching far away.

It was her fault the clones had to say them.

The conversation had taken a turn too heavy for Paghs to handle at the moment. She looked back to Crusher. His eyes were shut, enjoying the moment of silence. He looked peaceful, the most peaceful she had seen him in awhile. She would have to remind herself to give him and the rest of the team the proper leave time when they returned to Coruscant. They deserved to be able to actually relax before being thrown into another battle.

She looked to his scar again and felt the bile raise up in her throat. She didn’t understand how he was able to be so nonchalant about what happened. Maybe it was the clones programming or maybe it was because he was experienced in the field. She remembered staying by his bedside in the Medic Wing. She nearly tore apart the medic droid for the quick, almost sloppy, work it did dressing his wounds. Even after her outburst, they still did not give the same amount of care to Crusher’s injury as they did with hers.

“Will you please get a medic to check that thing out before you finish the debriefing for me?” she asked gently.

He opened his eyes, a large grin forming, “What’s that blasted droid going to do that it hasn’t done already? Besides, I’ve been told that Coruscanti women go crazy for one of these.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Paghs said, rolling her eyes. She looked out the main window on the command deck. They would reach Coruscant soon enough.

As the hundreds of stars passed by in the cerulean haze of hyperspace, a dull ache formed into the base of Paghs’s head. It creeped up her neck and into her skull, settling just behind her eyes. It gnawed away at her mind, forcing any other thought or semblance of peace away until it was the only thing present. She had felt this only once before, just before they left the atmosphere of Coruscant all those months ago. She had tried to forget the awful feeling, believing that it was just her nerves of going on her first solo mission. But now she couldn’t ignore it; she couldn’t wish it away.

“Something wrong, General?” Crusher asked.

“We’ve been gone for over a year,” she began. “Great Goddess, we haven’t even heard from anyone outside this ship months. I’m just...maybe I’m just worried that we aren't coming back to what we left.” She said with a frown.

“I’m sure they’re worried too.”

“What do you mean?”

“We aren’t the same people that left a year ago, General,” he said. “And that should worry you as well.”

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theretirementstory · 4 years

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Greetings from France, where it is currently 17c and cloudy but I am reliably informed that no rain will fall today, which is just as well as I have been out early to water the tomatoes, hydrangeas, begonias, wild flowers not forgetting the fig, all of which have suffered terribly with the high temperatures we have had of late. A week ago I would have dug the begonias up and disposed of them they appeared to be well and truly scorched, yesterday. I noticed little green shoots and tiny yellow flowers on one of the plants so I will tend to them for a while longer. The saga that is my “mal au dos” seems to be improving, I am not waking up as much through the night and have found that I can roll from my left side onto my back however I am too scared to get onto my right side as I still have pain there. Getting out of bed is easier too I no longer fear passing out from the pain! I arranged an appointment with the osteopath for this coming Tuesday and I need him to write down exactly what the problem was (I do not want this again). It is coming to the end of the French holiday period and I am hoping against hope that I will hear from the decorator and the paysagiste, one saying when he can come and do the work and the other providing a devis for work to be done. I know that the paysagiste is working as he passed me when I was having coffee at the bar the other day. When I was in town I popped up to see if Monica the Immobilier was at work, she was on her holiday and wont be back to work until Monday, not that I was looking at properties more just to have a chat. My neighbours returned from holiday last Monday and brought me a wonderful gift from Iles d’Oleron, a basket of goodies including two types of salt, caramels, biscuits and mustard with samphire (delicious), just for keeping an eye on their property. I did explain that I had been a bit unnerved when I saw that his garage door didn’t appear fully closed, he explained that the door must be twisted slightly and he bolts it inside and locks it outside. With Marie-Therese in Saint-Flour and Anie having recently lost her brother, I have had no opportunity for coffee, cake and a natter. Monique did ring me but I did not go to the French class on Wednesday afternoon. I did take a “knitting with refugees” group which was made up of children, two of whom could neither knit or crochet and with my back still being quite “delicate” I found it very hard to spend a lot of time with them. Not long now until they return to school and maybe I will have my “ladies” back again. My mobile phones are quite old (given to me by “The Daddy”) and one was not holding it’s charge, I went into town and managed to get a new battery put into it so it should live for a while longer. The other one had definitely given up the ghost the front and back were parting company, never a good look, so I had to bite the bullet and BUY a new one. Just as well it was easy to set up as I had to do it myself! I had an email and a telephone call from a friend of a friend, the lady is looking to relocate to France and wanted to have a couple of questions answered. It was lovely to chat to her and I must remember to drop her an email today as I have just thought of something which may be useful for her when considering properties. Now I said that the plumber had been to put a new tap in the garage last week, well I had not been out to try it until this week……….went to the tap, tried to turn it on…….wouldn’t turn! After a few expletives I left it, through the night I wondered if the lever turned in the opposite direction so next morning off I went into the garage to try that……...still no luck! I texted the plumber, he arrived early evening and guess what it did turn the opposite way (as I had tried that morning) and to cap it all the top of the lever had arrows stating ON and OFF (in English) what a flipping numpty I felt, he just laughed. I have been to the bar a few times this week, I still enjoy sitting watching the world go by, I saw one of the families that attend French class going for their shopping, then another day I saw one of my friends from my knitting and sewing group. I arrived one day, and a regular at the bar, handed me the newspaper before I had even taken a seat….. now that’s what I call service! Today in town there is the Bar aux Livres my two author friends will be there selling their books. I purchased some books from them previously, two for my gorgeous granddaughter when she comes over and I also bought a novel for me to read, not as easy as one might expect. I also have a book (written by another friend) which is really a children’s book and the other night I decided to try and start to read it…...again it’s the tenses, new vocabulary etc which make it hard going. I think I will have to revert to the children’s book (like a Ladybird book) about the circus in the hedge. I wonder if the French have the equivalent of the Janet and John books that children (like me) used when first learning to read? They were really good, repetition, spelling out the letters to make the sound D O G, blimey where am I going with this? I also received some sad news, a bereavement, an Aunt through marriage, someone’s mother, grandmother, a great aunt to my son’s and a very kind and gentle lady. So “The Daddy” sent me a photo of gorgeous granddaughter yesterday sitting in the doll’s pushchair (again) apparently she got stuck and he had to pull her out……...lesson there, methinks, young Miss. She seems to have progressed from sitting on the doll’s cot to sitting in the washing basket (its her boat) and we sing Row, Row, Row Your Boat, what a hoot that girl is. “The Graduate” is on the steep descent to the end of his course……..an exam this coming week…….finishing off the dreaded dissertation. He has found out that the University library is open again so I think he is going to be heading there to finish his work in surroundings which are more conducive to this final part of his studies. The job situation seems to be quite a problem in the United Kingdom and elsewhere in the World, who knows what “The Graduate” will do following these four years of study, we can only hope and pray that a job is out there for him. Students will be returning to Universities from September looking to complete their final year or even just embarking on their first year, this year has been exceptionally stressful for everyone. What will be the “new norm” who knows? At the end of the day it is about YOU! Keeping yourself safe, follow the guidelines: Wash your hands, wear a mask, keep your distance, avoid crowds, if we all do our bit then hopefully we can fight this dreadful virus. Well, time to get ready to go into town for the Bar aux Livres. Until the next time……………. Photos: For the beauty of the Earth.

#barsuraube #barauxlivres #champagne #aube #france #nature #trees

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tabarronauthor · 4 years

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A bit of trivia from The Merlin Saga for Plant A Flower Day... 🌼 Fireroot, one of the 7 root-realms of the Great Tree of Avalon, is home to just a single flower: the firebloom. This small orange blossom thrives on ground recently scorched by flames, and has an unusual characteristic — its petals resemble tiny feathers!

#TheMerlinSaga #Plant A Flower Day #TA Barron #YA Fiction #Fantasy #Fantasy fiction

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katieskarlette · 7 years

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Since my bad left hand has made it impossible to play WoW lately, for the first time in over two years I fired up The Sims 3.

Instantly re-addicted.

Among my adventures yesterday was the saga of the two siblings, Lin and Zhao. (Why, yes, I did randomly lift names from Avatar, thanks for noticing.)

Below lies a thrilling tale of sibling rivalry, exploding appliances, pillow fights with the Grim Reaper, and giant sea sludges...

Zhao was an avid outdoorsman and fisherman, but also lazy and a mooch. Lin was a perfectionist with aspirations of wealth and a green thumb. They lived in a tiny starter house with the cheapest of everything.

The story I had in mind was that Lin would be frustrated with her brother who goofed around at the beach all day while she was trying to make something of herself.

In order to have him contribute something to the household besides anchovies, I had him study handiness/mechanical skill. They were too broke to keep calling a repair service when their cheap stuff kept falling apart.

Lin busted her butt gardening and working at the supermarket part time, while Zhao went fishing all day and tinkered with the appliances. He got electrocuted trying to fix the TV, but shook it off and was fine after a shower. Then a quest popped up saying he could earn a nice bonus for fixing his friend’s busted stereo. Great! A chance for him to prove to his sister that he wasn’t useless!

I plunked the broken stereo in the middle of the living room/dining room/kitchen, and he went to work.

Almost immediately, the whole thing burst into flames.

Poor Lin woke up and came rushing out of her bedroom in a panic. Luckily they did have a fire alarm, so help arrived. The siblings were useless, freaking out (as Sims do) while the firefighter used an extinguisher to battle the blaze. By the time she got it under control it had scorched the carpet in all directions, narrowly missing the dining table and chairs.

Lin insulted her brother, making his mood plummet even further than from the fire alone. She went outside to work in the garden (in the middle of the night, but why not?), and Zhao, apparently trying to redeem himself, went to work on the dishwasher. I hadn’t noticed that it was broken, so maybe he was just tinkering with it, but whatever he did, it was tempting fate one too many times.

He simultaneously set the dishwasher on fire and electrocuted himself.

The fire department returned and quickly put the flames out, but poor Zhao was dead.

It didn’t even give Lin the option to bargain or plead with Death. It’s been so long since I played that I’m not even sure if that’s a thing in Sims 3. She did, however, invite Death to have a pillow fight. He did, then watched TV for a little while before leaving.

Anyway, poor Lin cried for days. She also quit her part-time job at the supermarket and got a job in the science career. She got several promotions in a short time. She’s lonely though, so next I’m going to see if I can’t find her a spouse.

She’s also faithfully remembered to feed her late brother’s pet, a 20 kg sea sludge that he somehow put into a fishbowl. LOL

I’d almost forgotten how much I love this game.

#sims #The Sims 3 #KS plays Sims

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jessicakehoe · 5 years

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Iceland Is Way More Than the Blue Hot Springs You See All Over Instagram

I’m standing on a ledge at the end of Víðgelmir cave, a nearly 1,600-metre-long lava tube just under two hours by car from Reykjavík in West Iceland’s Hallmundarhraun lava field. Above ground it’s summer, a time when the sun hardly sets in this part of the world, but down here it feels like winter and it’s pitch-black.

The tour guide leading our excursion instructs us to turn off our headlamps, the only source of light. “Now let your eyes adjust,” he says. “You’ve probably never experienced complete darkness before, and your brain may start doing some weird things.” While my pupils acclimate to the blackness (I’m starting to see faint lightlike formations), he tells us about Iceland’s Huldufólk (“Hidden People”)—a ghost story of sorts.

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Almost as soon as you enter The Cave it becomes completely dark and the temperature drops to about 1 degree Celsius. The lights that have been installed inside the lava tube illuminate incredible rock formations and gorgeous colours. @bustraveliceland #cave #iceland #tour ( 📷 @bicnick )

A post shared by Reykjavik Grapevine (@rvkgrapevine) on Aug 3, 2016 at 6:36am PDT

In this tiny country inhabited by fewer than 350,000, the stories about the Huldufólk are more than just folk tales and could date as far back as the Viking period, when scholars first found mention of the word alfar (“elf”). These elusive beings are believed to be abnormally beautiful, ranging in height from several centimetres to a few metres, and reside in an invisible dimension in the cracks of rocks, caves and mountainsides—and among Icelanders, this belief is widely held. According to a 2017 poll carried out by local magazine The Reykjavík Grapevine, 67 per cent of respondents said they believe in elves, while a 1998 survey found 54 per cent of the population to be believers. Back in 1982, some 150 activists marched on NATO’s Keflavík base in search of elves thought to be endangered by the military operations.

According to a 2017 poll carried out by local magazine The Reykjavík Grapevine, 67 per cent of respondents said they believe in elves, while a 1998 survey found 54 per cent of the population to be believers.

According to folklore, the Huldufólk are neither good nor evil and keep mortals in line, exercising their power to reward good behaviour and punish malice while encouraging the preservation of Iceland’s many natural wonders. Passed on through generations, these tales impart a kind of moral code to life here and figure as prominently in the naming of landmarks and geographical features as the Western world’s saints and statesmen.

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After the rain comes the rainbow 🌈🇮🇸 . . . #tbt #iceland #dream #travel #adventure #me #wanderlust #sea #sun #sky #skyporn #clouds #blue #nature #beautiful #landscape #travelling #travelgram #travelphotography #life #amazing #beauty #landscapephotography #love #instatravel #instagood #photooftheday #igers #happy #weather

A post shared by Matteo Bargetto (@matteobargetto) on Nov 20, 2018 at 3:32am PST

The Snæfellsnes Peninsula, at the western tip of the country—known for its gold- and pink-sand beaches—honours half-troll half-man Bárður Snæfellsás, who is said to live in the Snæfellsnesjökull glacier and serve as the area’s protector. You wouldn’t want to incur his wrath by building, say, a condo project atop this nature reserve.

Iceland is located on a hot spot on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. The surface of the earth beneath this Nordic nation is unusually thin, which is the catalyst behind its geothermal activity and the geothermal energy that has been helping power it since the 1930s. It’s this energy that allows the country to remain largely self-sufficient, and it has a burgeoning agriculture industry. Iceland is actually home to Europe’s largest banana plantation, which puts that geothermal energy to use heating greenhouses. Plans to share the wealth of clean energy are already in the works, in the form of a power interconnector between Iceland and the United Kingdom. At 1,000 kilometres, it will be the longest the world has ever seen.

There’s a sense of exhilaration that comes with being in a place on the verge of combustion.

There’s a sense of exhilaration that comes with being in a place on the verge of combustion, with countless hot springs bubbling up everywhere and a somewhat apocalyptic landscape of lava fields and scorched earth. The midnight sun casts this already otherworldly place in a surreal light from late May until July: A walk home from dinner under pale blue skies at 11:30 in the evening becomes anything but ordinary, while spotting white-beaked dolphins dancing out of the water on a nighttime whale watching excursion is almost too magical to be believed.

Even underground, there’s a whole world to discover, with networks of lava caves carved violently through the earth, the scar of volcanic fury. As I climb up out of Víðgelmir into the sprawling lava field, the warm air envelops me and thaws out my extremities; I might as well be on another planet. On the drive back to Reykjavík, our tour bus makes a final stop, at Barnafoss waterfall. Travel is all about escape—from work, from monotony, from reality—and natural wonders are the ultimate antidote to anxiety. No, your negative thought processes won’t reverse as you peer at a peaceful waterfall, but watching milky glacier water rushing over lava rocks just might melt your worries away.

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Barnafoss Falls Hraunfossar, Iceland #PeterinIceland

A post shared by Peter in Transit (@peterintransit) on Sep 24, 2018 at 1:44pm PDT

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And while you’re there, here are a few items actually worth checking off your tourist checklist.

Eat

Icelandic cuisine is more than just fermented shark and whale meat—actually, those fishing practices are largely kept alive by tourists seeking exotic culinary experiences. At Grillið, located on the top floor of the Radisson Blu Saga Hotel, the food is elegant and straightforward, showcasing Iceland’s most beautiful ingredients, like lumpfish roe, arctic angelica and some of the world’s highest quality lamb. I will be dreaming of their potato bread with cep butter and roasted garlic velouté for the rest of my days. The panoramic view of Reykjavik didn’t hurt either.

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Wow, wow, wow! #thebluelagoon is amazing. Definitely one for the #bucketlist 😍. #iceland #bluelagooniceland #worldtraveler

A post shared by Shirley-Ann (@underanenglishsky) on Nov 9, 2018 at 6:28am PST

Experience

The Blue Lagoon (that silica mud mask is better than the most expensive exfoliating treatment from Sephora to Ulta), Hallgrimskirkja (which more closely resembles a spaceship than a church) and whale-watching are all worth checking out. Elding Adventure at Sea offers late-night tours during midnight sun season, a must if you happen to be visiting in summertime. Make sure you go out on at least one excursion beyond the limits of Reykjavik. Whether you head east, west, north or south, you’re bound to find a wealth of waterfalls, glaciers, volcanic craters and natural swimming spots.

Getting There

WOW Air is the airline that made this magical place accessible to non-executive first class budgets, offering cheap fares from major cities around the world—including Montreal and Toronto. From the airport, grab a shuttle with Flybus into the city center and they will take you right to your hotel, hostel or Airbnb.

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