#BUT He also said that he thinks Deena may just not have been able to convince him as well

[tulipsnflowers]

Honestly dude, I would not be able to tell you how much time I left pondering what happened to him, but that is now his title. Yoink.

Petition to give a title for Metta being :

"Metta of the Prismatic Light"

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

WhatsApp? Part 18. (Steve Rogers x reader) - ENDING

Description: You’ve never been lucky with guys. You just wanted to catch someone’s eye, to be loved. One day, that’s about to turn completely - with one fake, completely imagined number a guy gave you.

A/N: And that's that. The series is over. It was fun, guys, but don't worry, we'll move on. Also kinda inspired by Turning Page by Sleeping At Last? Because it's just a classic love song. Also, the reader has kinda those beautiful fucking Bella Cullen dress because this dress is just a piece of art.

Warnings: DAT PURE WEDDING FLUFF YOU GUYS. I AM A SENSITIVE MF OKAY?

Word count: 3.7 K

Tagging: @missdictatorme, @songforhema, @mikariell95, @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

Read the rest here: Part One  Part Two  Part three  Part four  Part five  Part Six Part seven  Part eight  Part nine  Part ten  Part eleven  Part twelve  Part thirteen  Part fourteen  Part fifteen  Part sixteen  Part seventeen

If you like to have your readings in order :):  H E R E  

Sometime after everything settled down in your batshit crazy life again:

A small child made everything in your life change. You thought that you won't be able to survive the labor, you cried, you screamed, you yelled some pretty bad words, almost slapped Steve and almost broken a doctors arm, but in the end, it was worth all of it when a small baby girl in a blanket was put on your chest so you could hold her on your arms. She was so... Small, gentle, warm and smelled so nice. You broke down in tears at that very moment.

Your apartment changed drastically - it wasn't existing anymore. When Sam heard that you're about to extend your family, he moved to your old place so you could both move to Steves in Brooklyn, because he had a spare room there. Bucky moved to Deena's basically and had a sleepover on your couch only when he and Deena had one of their fights. 

Both of the boys, plus some Clint, random Scott and the literal GOD Thor helped with remaking that place, repainting those walls and piecing new furniture together while they dismounted the old one. You moved your stuff there - from your cosmetics to your photos. Ans Steve let you hang them all around the place. And just a side note, because you were grumpy and complained about your huge belly, you two even bought a huge-ass bed. Slowly, Steve introduced the very pregnant you to the other Avengers - and boy, you and Natasha became the ultimate sisters in crime.

When Steve had to work or went to the gym, you, her, Deena and Suzie usually met up at your place and played scrabble, read Cosmo or watched romcoms all the time. And when it came to the wedding you were planning on, Natasha was planning literally every step with you. Deena was asserting her ideas too - May and Suzie were only agreeing on everything since both Natasha and Deena were scary like demons from the worst part of hell most of the time.

"I think you're freaking too much about that, May." - You smiled at that lovely lady, looking at her face in the mirror, shoving another daisy into the waves of her hair. - "I love the dress."

"I'm not freaking out even a shitty bit. I just think that the train is too long. That's that." - May said in a playful tone just as you braided another flower into her hair. Your hair was already done, it was braided in a really difficult hairstyle with big, white daisies and some gently toned make-up to make it all come together. You looked like a beautiful fairy from the fairy tales.

"Oh snap, sis is serious, she's cursing. But yeah, I don't wanna get it shortened as well. Y/N can walk with that easily, she is not a pussy, May. And there's no time for shortening at all." - Deena smiled, taking your side, giving you a devilish wink. You simply nodded to prove your point. ¨

Peter was in Steve's room for that matter, but you would use some of his freaking out to make you laugh at that very moment. You were nervous to say at least.

Your heart was like a drum, constantly reminding you that you're in fact very much alive at the moment and that everything is happening so fast.

"I like the train a bit loosed in the back. It makes my feet somehow more gentle. I love those shoes, that flower lace... Jesus, it looks like some shoes for a princess." - You took your own side as well and Suzie looked into the room with a smile. She had her hair loosed and curled and she looked like an angel in her peach-colored dress. That color surprisingly suited every one of them.

"Somebody wants to see you." - Suzie sang and Deena took your place in braiding May's hair.

"If it's Steve, tell him that I'm not coming down. If it's Sam, tell him that any of us is naked and that he should fuck off. If it’s Bucky, we are not out of plums." - You laughed happily, making sure that your velvet ribbon holds tightly on your body. But Peter came into your room with a smile of a shy boy. He held a small girl in his arms, making sure that she is completely safe in his hands. The girl was about to cry her eyes out. She yelled loudly - and you even knew why she was crying.

She was hungry as hell - it would be super weird if she wasn't, she ate in the morning for the last time.

"Hello, my little angels." - You opened your arms for little Maggie and sat on the bed, looking Peter to the eyes.

"You look so... Are you even Y/N?" - He joked, but Deena took him at the back of his neck lightly, giving him a personal escort back to the door and made him leave. Just after that, you took one of your boobs out, letting the small one to having some lunch before everything truly starts.

"See? That's why I didn't want to get dressed. I knew that this lady will be hungry. She's just like her very own father." - Your finger trailed on her cheek as her eyes slowly closed. Even she had something similar to dress on her, in the peachy color just every other bridesmaid.

Yeah. Obviously, the wedding until the labor date wasn't something you two didn't make happen. You were already at month two when you told him, oh, you dummydumdum - and he didn't want to make you do it. He let you take your time. 

Even if he wasn't exactly the happiest about you not being married at the time Maggie was born, her and your health were way more important than being a married couple. (Steve had something to say, but you were ready to kick his balls because you were pregnant and the hormones were making you just crazy - he was seriously afraid of you.)

You waited until Maggie was at least three months old, so Peter could take care of her for at least an hour without being afraid he'll hurt her. But Steve didn't care. He was crazy for you to say at least, even more, when you had your big belly and shining eyes.

And he also stayed when you could cry your eyes out, vomit out your stomach, when your feet were swollen and when you called him dipshit just because you were angry with him. Without any clear reason to say at least, your hormones were just getting crazy.

But your pregnancy brought some sweet moments with it, just as when Natasha arranged you a photoshoot in the central park and Tony (YOU WERE FORCED TO CALL HIM TONY EVEN IF YOU FREAKED THE HELL OUT EVERY TIME STEVE SAID JUST “TONY? WHATEVER”.) made some super scary fucking system for your baby to be. Some Clint or who gave you some coupon for your baby to have bow shooting lessons with him. They were hand-drawn as far as your suspicion went, but you just smiled and took it.

Steve's friends were just the weirdest and the loveliest you had ever met - but just as Samuel and Bucky, you loved them as your family soon enough, having a shit ton of photos with them in your family album.

So that why the whole Avengers squad came to your wedding and that was why the paparazzi were going basically crazy because of your wedding. Only Natasha was late, as always when you had a meeting with her. So you knew that there is no reason for being too stressed about the time.

But none of that mattered because as at all weddings, everything was already late. The only one who seemed to be freaking out about the time was Tony (TONY STARK), who thought that there will not be enough time where he can just make a cap appear like a fool at the wedding party. At least that was what you have heard, none of that was confirmed. 

Even if everyone was making something extremely serious out of that, it was truly only a small wedding. The most expansive were the dream-like dress, and even those were given to you as a gift from your plum-diet coach and Deena. Heck, that wedding even made it to Forbes on the list of the most important wedding of the last ten years. You were just two places after the Royal family of England. 

A comment about Tony Stark’s and Pepper’s relationship was, of course, made in the last paragraph - everyone was bitching about them need to marry already.

Soon, there was the time when you needed to get dressed into those velvet expansive dress and shoes, while May and Suzie were making Maggie a company. You were trembling so much you barely stood on your feet. Of course that Deena had to point that out as soon as she realized it. 

“Wow, you sure that you won't have a heart attack on me?” - She giggled silently, supporting you while Natasha, who arrived late, yelled a chaotical FUCK, was all messy and almost forgot her dress, was buttoning up the dress at your back. 

“Fuck you.” - You answered sharply. Deena made a surprised face, giggling at your reaction. 

“Missy, you're kind of rude today, aren't you? Are you good?” - Deena asked teasingly and this time, May took your side.

“She's nervous, Deena. Let it be, once the ceremony is over, your beloved Y/N will be back.” - May lisped sweetly while making faces at your daughter. 

“You're nervous?” - Deena said sweetly, smiling at you with shining eyes. She was more proud than a mother could ever be; she was telling you that she is your mother since she helped you with planning out the very details. - “Come on. You're living together for almost a year and you haven't even argued, you haven't even bickered, or at least literally no-one here had the chance to witness it. You're just the sweetest couple that makes my teeth rotten. You're perfect parents to that small angel. What is a certificate, when you're already happy together?” 

“What if this the biggest bullshit of my whole life? What if he's not the Mr. Right? What if we split up?” - You huffed into Deena's face.

“You want to make me laugh?��� - Natasha spoke all of a sudden with her firm voice. She was scaring you like hell sometimes, but she was a great chit-chat maker and the lady you wanted to spend the evenings and rainy days next to the fireplace with when Steve was gone on a mission. - “Have you two even see each other? You're like a goddamn puzzle. Hold her tighter.” - Nat commanded to Deena and Deena just smiled into your face, telling you that everything is going to be alright.

“And you should think about that before you two have Margareth, don't you think, honey?” - Deena smiled at you ironically and you nodded, closing your eyes and exhaling slowly in order not to kill your bridesmaids before the wedding itself even begins.

The ceremony? You would've loved to tell stories about walking down the aisle, watching all those happy and crying faces, how your heart almost popped out of your chest... But you really had a blackout. You were so nervous that you barely knew how to walk and how to say yes. All you could recall was that you almost tripped on your high heels and that you stood in front of Steve without breathing for a minute straight while he was telling you his vows.

It made Pepper cry so hard she almost left the room, because she hasn't heard anything sweeter until that day. But you could only hear the tone of his voice, you could only see the color of his eyes. You wanted to scream because of how good he was looking; you never saw anything sexier than Steve Rogers in a tuxedo. Somehow, your brain couldn't still connect shit as you were telling him your vows in a sweet voice. You seemed cool even if you weren't.

A few minutes from that moment, you will be a married woman. You will have a hubby on your own, and your last name will be legally changed to Rogers. But when you held his hands and looked him in the face while you were saying your vows, your brain still didn't make you realize any of that.

You still didn't realize that when you had that ring on and when you walked out of the church covered in rice. You slowly started to realize that you're someone's wife when you changed into a normal pair of jeans and a blouse so you could be comfortable at the reception. You pieced it together when you rode there with Maggie sleeping in a safety car seat and Steve held your hand while his thumb gently played with the ring on your left palm. That was when you started to cry and when the happiness replaced the overall stress you had. 

He still had his shirt and tuxedo on - only you were the jackass who told everybody that they will not be wearing that beautiful dress during the whole reception. You only left the shoes, which were stunning as well. 

Every guest was already there at the moment you arrived, hand in hand. Every woman who was out there was crying, hugging you and told you how beautiful it was - you could ever see Tony wiping away some tears. First, you let everyone have some good food, so you could spend the whole evening by telling embarrassing stories, drinking and eating even more delicious food. After that, the main program came - all the speeches, photo presentations, and laughs. 

All the Avengers basically laid into Steve pretty bad - but it made you cry out of laughter. Tony provided some extremely embarrassing photos, Bucky was telling the stories from the forties, Sam was baing sam and Natasha had a heartwarming and long speech which made everyone sobbing - because nobody knew that she was capable of that in the first place.

Your colleagues made one long video consisting of your group achievements and photos since the very day you first came to that working place. When they were done, you were a crying mess once again. Hugging each one of them to tight that you almost squeezed the air out of their lungs. And Peter had his dorky speech, that poor boy almost didn't speak a sentence without stuttering. 

But it was all perfect. So everyone looked at Steve after everyone was done with their speeches, starting his very own. You didn't even know that he prepared one. 

"Hi, hello. If you don't know by now, I am the groom, nice to meet you all.” - He joked nervously, standing next to the place you were sitting. Most of the people let out a quiet giggle, just as you did. Clint, who was almost shitfaced alongside Bucky and Thor shot up from his chair, raising his hand in your direction. - “I'm Clint, nice to meet you!” 

“When I look back at the two last years of my life, I am grateful for all that time more that I've been ever grateful for anything. I've been a man who lost almost everything you can think of and one day... A damn text appeared on the screen of my phone and I didn't know that on the other side is the woman I will want to marry since the first kiss she gave me.” - Steve smiled at you, smoothing your shoulder, earning a small aw from everyone.

“And... If you ask me - I know. We're taking everything too fast. The first was our beautiful angel, after only four and a half months, the wedding came after the first year, and to be honest, every one of her friends thinks she's crazy about doing everything so fast. And I know that.” - That was Deena's time to yell You bet that we think that! with a peal of soft laughter, her head leaning into Bucky’s shoulder - “And... To be honest, we have a very strange list of approaching those big things in life that everyone dreams of achieving." - Steve told with a glass of champagne in his hand, leaving the other palm to hold yours, while you slowly kissed him in the valley under his thumb, then leaning your chin into that small place. It was a few minutes before nine p.m. and he was already only in his shirt and trousers.

You watched him with adoration and your smile slowly grew bigger and bigger. Even he was ready to make you weep. Again. Around ten p.m., there was a girl supposed to come to look after Maggie and until then, she was just lying in cradle put beside your table and made some sweet baby noises, talking to herself.

"But you know what? As far as she doesn't mind, I don't care. I don't care if she's willing to give me five minutes, five months, five years or her whole life. I'm just happy to have this gorgeous, lovely woman with the most beautiful smile on the whole world by my side." - He leaned down to kiss you and you shook your head as you were crying again. But then you stood up as well, ready to have your own speech.

“Hi. I'm the bride, folks.” - You started the same way. - “And I don't have a single word written down and even if I did, I'm terrible at speeches. But I guess that this is what true love of someone does to you. It encourages you and inspires you beyond your own belief.” - You said, looking at him and him only. - “Because every word they say is making your heart melt, with every touch, they redefine a new paraphrase and their smile means everything to you.” - You said quietly, so drunkards in the back couldn’t hear you for shit. But you didn't care.

“I was and I am just a normal girl from New York, not exactly hit with the men, so anything on this whole planet couldn't prepare me for the privilege of being Mrs. Rogers. When it all started, I couldn't believe that such a guy would want to even have something with someone so normal like me. It took a lot of time, empathy and patience before we were able to stand here as a bride and groom, but as I said, that's what love is about. Redefining your old world, exploring new sides of you and let me say... Your kiss was the first one that made me feel something. I love you.” - You said with a look into his face and all you could see was crying Deena and Natasha holding the tears back, but she couldn't.

“I love you.” - Steve whispered when you kissed him, just as he did at the end of the speech. 

After Maggie was picked up by her nanny, and Peter left with the small baby as well to protect her, and because the nanny was seriously hot and in his age, the true party began. Everyone laughed, drank and danced - and let me say, Thor was a pretty wild dancer once he was drunk. You wished for that day to never end, yet after a too short amount of time, there was a deep night and only the last ones were standing on the dance floor, dancing. 

Bucky was whispering sweet nothings to smiling Deena and a few of Steve’s friends, a blonde lady named Sharon and a guy you didn't know for shit were just turning in small circles. Sam and Thor were sleeping on one of the tables with loud snoring. You tightened hand around Steve's neck, playing with his hair. You were slightly drunk, you couldn't actually drink and Steve was sober as ever.

“Hi.” - You whispered. After a long day, you finally had the intimacy to talk to each other. 

“Hello there.” - He chuckled. At that moment, nothing could make him more happy and contented than holding you in his arms. 

“My day was completely insane. How about yours, big guy?” - You laughed quietly. Steve shot a look at Deena making Bucky do a bow. 

“It was the best day of my life, and trust me, that is telling a lot about that day.” - Steve answered after a while, stealing a kiss away.

“One false number... And who would have thought that I will be marrying that dork two years after that?” - You smiled and leaned into a tight embrace, enjoying how warm and tight he feels under your touch.

“That dork was hoping that the beautiful woman marries him. Just saying.” - He teased you with a giggle, then he spin you around carefully before hugging you. 

“I would appreciate if you showed me how beautiful that woman is, what do you say?” - You whispered wickedly, stealing another kiss with a moan so quiet that no-one around could hear it.

“That would be my pleasure, Mrs. Rogers.” 

FIN 

[theycallmebeccawrites]

Chris & Ellie Series: Episode 3.5

With Tumblr holding my original writing blog @beccaheartschrisevans captive (aka flagged as explicit), I have made a secondary writing blog and may end up closing the other all together. In the meantime, I am reposting all of my stories on my new blog.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Ellie Spencer (OFC)

Rating: strong PG-13

Warnings: Borderline graphic description of the male anatomy

Episode Summary: Takes place in March 2013. Ellie has a video chat with her sisters to tell them about her new job and living situation.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

The Chris and Ellie series is primarily chronological.  It begins with a flash forward to 2016 and has a few other scenes in the future.  However, the majority of their story is told in chronological order starting in 2013 and going through 2017. Each episode starts with a date to help you place it within the story.

The Chris & Ellie Series Masterlist | Chris & Ellie Masterlist

Episode 3

Episode 3.5: Sister Talk

March 30, 2013

Ellie sat on the leather sofa in the basement of the main house as she waited for the video call to connect. She hadn’t intended on telling Chris about her biweekly video chats with her three sisters, but as she stared at his big screen TV she was super glad she had, because he had shown her how to do video call on it.

The last video chat she’d had with all three of her sisters had been a couple days before her first meeting with Chris and she hadn’t told them anything about her new job or living situation just in case the whole thing fell through. Even now that everything was official, she was still a bit nervous about telling her sisters.

Eyes focused on the TV screen, Ellie grinned the second her sisters’ faces appeared in their separate boxes. She waved at them and greeted them each by name.

“Syd!” or Sydney was her oldest sister at 30 years of age. She was married to the best brother-in-law a girl could ask for, Garrett, and they lived in Seattle, Washington. They were also the parents to Ellie’s nephew, Noah, who was five years old and her niece, Chloe, who was three years old.

“Izzy!” or Isabelle was Ellie’s second youngest sister and her best friend in the entire world. Just under three years separated 27 (almost 28) year old Ellie and 25 year old Izzy, which meant they had been close. Unlike the other three girls, Izzy had blond hair like their mother’s side of the family while the other three took after their father’s side. LIke Ellie, Izzy also lived in California, but in the Bay Area where she’d recently graduated from law school. Now she and her boyfriend, Eric Montgomery, were both looking for jobs.

“Riley!” was the youngest of the four girls and was constantly updating her Twitter account with a countdown to her 21st Birthday (124 days). Growing up, she’d followed Ellie and Izzy around, doing whatever they told her to, until she got tired of being bossed around. She then became the teenager that tested their parents’ patience the most. Unlike her three older sisters, who’d gone straight from high school to college, she had taken a couple years off school off and therefore was only a sophomore instead of a senior.

Ellie hadn’t realized how lonely being in the main house and guest house had been after Chris and his mom had left until she was listening to her sisters as they shared the latest news and a little bit of gossip. She still had her job at the bookstore, but it still didn’t make up for the fact that she was coming home to an empty house all the time.

She laughed along with her sisters as they each shared amusing stories, trying to out do each other. It had been Sydney’s tale about her daughter’s ballet recital which had ended with a mouse running across the stage followed by the ballet teacher holding a broom, that had brought tears to their eyes.

Brushing tears from her cheeks, Ellie looked at the screen and knew her time had come when she saw Izzy giving her a suspicious look.

“You’ve been awful quiet tonight,” Izzy said. “And where are you? I can tell you’re not at Aunt Deena’s house because of the white wall behind you, I don’t think there is a single white wall in her house”

“Yeah, about that,” Ellie said, slowly. “I got a job.”

“What?”

“Where?”

“When?”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

Ellie snicked as her sisters’ questions overlapped each other. She was still nervous about telling them, but she knew she had to. They’d find out soon enough.

“I’m still working at the bookstore,” she told them. “But I’m also working as a housekeeper slash housesitter for the son of someone I met at the store.”

She could tell by the look on Sydney’s face that she wasn’t impressed with the new job and she was pretty sure that Riley was painting her fingernails.

Nervous about how to address the big part of the new job, Ellie chewed on her lower lip.

“You’re not telling us something,” the ever observant Izzy stated. “You only chew on your lower lip like that when you’re not sure what to say.” She leaned in closer to her camera. “What aren’t you telling us Sarah Elaine?”

“My boss is Chris Evans,” Ellie said after waiting an extra moment. “And not the British one.”

“Who?” Sydney asked as Izzy and Riley just stared at their computer screens in shock.

“He plays Captain America in the Marvel movies,” Ellie explained to her older sister.

“And he is fucking hot!” Izzy exclaimed. “I don’t even like superhero stuff, but I dragged Eric to the theater to see that first Captain America movie.”

“Is he really that buff in real life?” Riley asked.

Ellie felt her face flush and heard Izzy gasp.

“OH MY GOD! YOU’VE SEEN HIM NAKED!” her sister shouted through the TV.

Ellie felt her face turn an even brighter shade of red, meaning there was no way she could deny that she had in fact seen Chris completely naked.

“It was an accident,” she said when Izzy finally quieted down. “His mom hired me and he got home earlier than she’d expected and she hadn’t warned him that I was there. So there I was, cleaning the kitchen floor and I turn around and there he is, standing completely naked in the doorway to the kitchen.”

“You saw him naked?!” Sydney said in a delayed response. “Sorry, I had to look him up. I think Garrett has some of those movies, I might need to watch them.”

“Yes, she saw him naked,” Riley replied. “But we haven’t asked her the important question yet.”

As Ellie watched, matching smirks appeared on her sisters’ faces and she knew exactly what they wanted to know: just what was he hiding under his clothes.

She’d known who Chris was before even met Lisa, but she hadn’t known that Lisa was Chris’ mom until she’d taken the job. So she had known what she was getting herself into, she’d seen his movie “What’s Your Number?” and there hadn’t been much to imagine after the scene with the towel and the apple, but seeing it on a TV screen with her sister Izzy was nothing like having the real, naked man right in front of her.

It didn’t take much effort for Ellie to recall the scene from the morning she and Chris had met. His hair had been longer than normal and his beard had been shaggier than she’d seen in promotional photographs, but given that he’d just spent two weeks in hibernation, it had made sense. There had been hair on his chest as well, the perfect amount in her opinion.

“WELL?!” Izzy demanded interrupting her thoughts.

Ellie kept them waiting a moment longer as she remembered that particular part of Chris’s anatomy that had been the first point of contact that her eyes had settled upon that morning: the beautiful, err manly, organ in between his thick thighs. She wasn’t an expert, though hardly a novice, when it came to penises, but Chris’s had certainly looked better than those of her ex boyfriends. Better taken care of, that was for sure, especially when it had come to the small tuft of hair at the base.

Then there had been the penis itself. It had been a good length; not too short where you’d be crossing your fingers praying he was a grower not a shower, but not too long where you’d be afraid of it getting longer and damaging your lady parts. She’d only seen him straight on, so she hadn’t been able to tell exactly how thick he was, but he hadn’t been pencil thin, that was for sure. And from where she’d been sitting on the floor, his balls had looked healthy, too.

“SARAH ELAINE!” Riley shouted at the screen.

Ellie smiled and then calmly said, “He’s my boss, so I’ll just keep it simple. There is not a single thing about him to complain about.”

Her sisters laughed and Izzy let out of whistle.

“Fuck, the girls’ on my floor are planning to watch ‘What’s Your Number?’ tomorrow night,” Riley said with a groan. “Now I’m going to have to sit there knowing that my sister knows exactly what he has going on behind that towel!”

“You guys can’t say anything to anyone about this,” Ellie said, seriously. “You three, me, his mom and him are the only ones that know.”

“Wait, how does his mom know?” Sydney asked.

“You know how I mentioned he got home earlier than planned?” Ellie said. “Well he was doing the Full Monty in the kitchen when his mom got to his place. She found us in the kitchen, me still on my knees on one side of the room and Chris trying to cover himself with a roll of paper towels. She sent him upstairs to get dressed and I thought she was going to fire me, but she just laughed!”

She couldn’t help join her sisters as they laughed over the awkward situation.

“So other than being a complete God physically, what’s he like?” Izzy asked her.

“I haven’t gotten to spend much time with him,” Ellie shrugged. “He was here for a week and then he was off to film a new movie.”

“So there were no sparks?” Sydney asked.

“Sparks? You mean romantically?” Ellie replied, staring at her older sister in surprise. “I just met the guy and he is my boss.”

“You took five minutes to answer the question about whether his penis lived up to the rest of his God-like stature,” Riley pointed out with a smug grin.

“It’s called suspense,” Ellie replied. “I had information you wanted and I’ve always loved holding that over your head.” She rolled her eyes. “Besides, Chris is a celebrity. He isn’t going to date, let alone sleep with, his housekeeper, especially not one hand picked by his mom.”

“Ellie, you’re worth more than any celebrity out there,” Sydney said with a smile. “If Chris can’t see that then you don’t need him.”

“And if he can see that then you need to get with him,” Izzy added with a smirk. “And then tell us all about the motion in his ocean!”

“Every single detail,” Riley agreed.

“Oh, is that a thing now?” Sydney asked, pulling the attention of her two youngest sisters. “If so, then we have a lot of catching up to do about Garrett. Let me tell you, my husband can -“

“Oh look at the time!” Izzy exclaimed while Riley covered her ears and loudly sang, “La la la la.”

Sydney winked at Ellie and then said, “Well I have little monsters to put to bed. And the night is still young for you three, go have some fun.”

“Night Syd,” the other three chorused.

Sydney waved and then disappeared from the video chat.

“I should probably finish writing the essay that I have due tomorrow,” Riley said with a frown. “Either of you know anything about music theory?” Ellie and Izzy shook their heads. “I figured as much. Night guys.”

“So, when can I come for a visit?” Izzy asked with a smile once it was just her and Ellie.

“I don’t know if I can have visitors,” Ellie replied. “Especially overnight, freeloading sisters.”

“Well ask your hunky boss and let me know,” Izzy said before redirecting her attention to something off camera. “Alright, Eric just decided he’s hungry, so we’re going to go get food.”

“Later,” Ellie replied. She turned off the video chat and reset the TV to its proper settings. Then she went upstairs and made sure the big house was locked up for the night before retiring to the cozy, studio apartment-like guesthouse she called home.

Episode 4

Want to find me off tumblr? I’m @beccatheycallme on twitter. I also post my stories on AO3.

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[macksting]

I met him at OryCon once, on our honeymoon. I got in the elevator, exhausted, having freshly arrived. I scanned the name tags in the elevator, my newlywed wife at my side, and as my eyes saw the name tag across from me said "Peter S.--" and my eyes glazed over before I could even finish reading it. I stammered dumbly and elbowed the wife, quietly gesturing to him, and she apologized on my behalf because I was starstruck for finding myself in an elevator with one of my favorite authors. He said he felt exactly the same way when he met his favorite poet, and told a sentence or two about that occaasion.* I commented that Spider Robinson had the same experience meeting Robert Heinlein at a book signing, and Beagle said, "I used to live next door to him in California! The only safe topic was cats. We couldn't talk about anything civilly, except cats." I was lightheaded. I get that way around artists I admire. It’s really rather ridiculous of me; they’re perfectly human, with all the usual merits and flaws of that, and its wide and absurd variety. The well-connected ones, in fact, tend to be terrible people because that’s who is best able to network with terrible people who gatekeep power and money. It’s not a pretty industry. Nevertheless, my brain gets all funny about it. Nice to know his can too. I talked to him later when I got A Fine And Private Place signed at his booth. There wasn’t a long line at that moment, and I paused to ask him about a theme I thought I’d observed in The Last Unicorn and the sequel novella Two Hearts. He knew what I was talking about, identified the mythic trope I was comparing it to as "The Summer King," and said he almost certainly knew about it when he wrote the book, but is equally certain he didn't have it consciously in mind? But apologized in advance if he forgets that he didn't come up with the comparison himself later. The implication that he preferred my interpretation of his books was too much for me and I said my goodbyes and went back to my hotel room to rest. Later on he was doing a reading, but we went over time, and had to clear the room before the end of the chapter. Folks asked him to continue somehow, and we found seating in the middle of the hallway and all sat rapt, listening to this kindly dude reading his short story to us, in that mellifluous voice. My friend Tea thinks he has probably no idea the effect he has on people, and didn’t necessarily understand why we all were so captivated that we’d just all pull up seats in a hallway just to hear him finish the story. It was an excellent story, though I forget many details; a brother and sister, magical powers that weren’t well understood and seemed to entail danger; modern setting. It was far more detailed than that, but it’s been over fifteen years, I’m sure. (looks it up. Yup. Nearly 16 now. Guess I’ve been married quite a while. She’s sleeping cutely over on the bed. I can see the rise and fall of her chest under the blanket. <3 ) Later he sang, a lovely filk performance, and one of the songs I didn’t recognize, “Making The Best Of A Bad Situation.” I’d never heard it before. It’s on a Ray Stevens album as well, apparently, and despite growing up on “The Streak“ and “The Mississippi Squirrel Revival” I hadn’t heard it there either, so for all I knew Beagle’d written it. Turns out it’s by Deena Kaye Rose, credited under her deadname, which was the name she was using at the time. (She publicly started using the name Deena Kay Rose in 2017, according to Wikipedia.) The last verse Beagle sang reminded me distinctly of the last verse of the Kingston Trio version of “Worried Man Blues.” Whether that was his change to it or someone else’s, I don’t know. I only just today found out who wrote the song in the first place. I have some listening to do. It may well have been a Rose original that didn’t make it into other cuts. On the subject of Deena Kaye Rose, Wikipedia also says that she cowrote Eastbound And Down, a hit from the film Smokey And The Bandit, so apparently this is a musician I have already heard at least two songs by without ever knowing it before today. It occurs to me to clarify that at the time I met him, I myself was deep enough in the closet that I was neighbors with Mr. Tumnus, at least in regards to being trans, so I thought I was male when speaking with him, and we haven’t particularly met since. Given my financial situation I doubt we ever will again; I’ve only been to one con in person since then, and it seems it’d be a poor choice now that COVID is a permanent situation. But it is an incredible comfort to know that if we did meet, he might remember me, and would not mind in the slightest. There’s a lot of artists I’d be very disappointed if they hated me for living as I must, but from the author of The Last Unicorn, it means even more that he cares.

I've met him in person btw and he's a fucking sweetheart

[ID: Text-intensive Twitter thread from the Shapeshifters chest binders Twitter account in reply to a post by artist and author Ursula Vernon. Vernon says, A non-zero number of you apparently did not know that The Last Unicorn was a book before it was a movie. It is by Peter S. Beagle. It is made of spun glass and fairytales and iron knives and there are individual lines that I would give my lungs to have written. Shapechangers replies, I saw him every year at NYCC for several years straight, bought something at his table, asked him to sign it, and we spoke. He remembered me from year to year, no small feat at that con. He remembered which stories he'd told me. One year I came back with a different gender on. He squinted at me a bit and said thoughtfully, "I've seen you before in this place." All I had to say was, "last year you told me the story about the inoshishi." And his face cleared, and he leaned in with a grin and told me about a German guitarist who he traveled with, twice. Who transitioned between the first and second time, so he'd gotten to meet this person all over again on the second round. It was a wonderfully kind way to let me know that everything was fine. I was fresh out of the closet and I needed that, and maybe he could see it. The Last Unicorn is the best book in the world and I will defend it and its author til I die. the end. /end ID]

I don't usually talk about celebrities; artists, when I do, and I'm keenly aware that one needn't be a good person to be a hell of a heartwrenching artist. But Peter S. Beagle has written a few of my favorite things in the world, he's an excellent singer and filker, and this Twitter thread was dreadfully important to me. I don't want it going away as Twitter becomes Shitter, because it's so often bad news, isn't it? It's important to me to share trans joy.

[singledarkshade]

A Part Of Something

Part Two - Connections

Alex smiled proudly when Gideon managed to block each attack, “Well done. You’re getting better.”

Gideon nodded grabbing her water and taking a long drink.

“We’ll work some more tomorrow on this then start your weapons training,” Alex told her.

Gideon checked the time, “I need to change and get back to work.”

Alex watched her friend for a moment aware of the sadness she was trying to hide, “Have you talked to him yet?”

Gideon glanced at Alex before shrugging, “Why would I?”

“Because you’re miserable,” Alex replied folding her arms, “I know how much you love Rip and the fact you’re not talking to him hurts.”

Letting out a sigh Gideon shook her head, “He will not listen to me.”

“He’s worried about you,” Alex reminded her, “And he’s scared something will take you away from him again.”

Gideon slammed her hands on the table, “I know this, Alex but he also seems to think I am incapable of looking after myself. I was fine without him here.”

“So, what are you going to do?” Alex asked, “Ignore him forever? He wants to apologise.”

Shaking her head sadly Gideon gathered her things, “Even if he apologises it does not change how he sees me.”

“And how is that?”

“That I need to be protected,” Gideon replied annoyed, “I don’t, I never did.”

Alex sighed, “He loves you...”

“He loved Miranda but never treated her as anything less than capable,” Gideon snapped back.

Alex frowned not sure what to say before shaking her head, “It’s your choice, Gideon but in some ways by not talking to him you’re hurting yourself as much as you’re hurting him.”

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

  Rip held onto Kara as they were all forced into the back room of the gallery, frowning in confusion – something wasn’t right.

“How do you feel?” Rip murmured as he sat them in a corner.

Kara looked up at his, “Weak.”

Seeing the fear in her eyes as the Kryptonite drained her of her powers Rip kept an arm around her.

“You’ll be fine,” he said softly, watching their captors standing talking, “Is it me or is there something odd about this.”

Kara looked around the room, “They’re not stealing from the guests and they don’t seem to be trying to steal anything from the gallery.”

“So why are they here?” Rip mused.

She sighed, “If I could hear them I could find out.”

“Don’t think about what we can’t do,” Rip told her, “Focus on what we can. You’re a reporter and you spend your life noticing things others don’t. Pay attention to everything.”

“What about you?” Kara whispered back.

Rip gave her a slight smile, “I spent my life looking for changes to the timeline. I can usually spot anomalies.”

Kara gripped his hand tightly, “Okay.”

“We stick together, Kara,” he told her, “I won’t let anything happen to you while you’re not your usual self just like you would never let anything happen to me when you are.”

  Kara wanted to sleep.

Every part of her body ached with weariness and just wanted to curl up in her bed for the next week. At her side Rip was watching everything intently while he kept his arm wrapped around her shoulders comforting but also so they could talk without people noticing.

There were six people who had taken over the building, three men and three women. All had several weapons on them and a comm. link in their ear so they could talk to one another at all times.

Including herself and Rip there were twenty-five hostages, they could have had more if they’d come earlier as most people had left. Another mystery to add to the ones they already had - especially how they had managed to procure Kryptonite.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the leader suddenly spoke, a tall blonde woman with brown eyes, “I apologise for the inconvenience but you are now all our guests and here to witness the end of the vile creature who has invaded our world, Supergirl.”

“Vile seems a bit strong to describe you,” Rip murmured in Kara’s ear.

“However, the longer it takes for her to show herself and surrender to us then the more of you will die,” she continued.

“Do not even think about moving,” Rip muttered tightening his grip on her.

Kara looked up at him, “They will kill these people.”

“We won’t let that happen,” he replied, “We have time. They haven’t advertised their presence yet so once the DEO know what’s happening they’ll send help.”

Kara grimaced.

“Listen to me,” Rip said sternly, “Telling them who you are is not a good idea. Right now I have the ability to actually render you unconscious and I will take the chance of you breaking my arm later if you try to surrender yourself.”

She frowned but knew he wasn’t lying. Rip was extremely protective of the people he cared about and she knew, despite trying not to, Rip cared about her.

“What’s wrong with her?” one of the men suddenly demanded standing over them.

Rip glared at him, “She has food poisoning.”

The man let out a huff before walking on.

“Nice save,” Kara murmured to him.

Rip shrugged, “Same reason I ended up working here today.”

Looking up at him she squeezed his hand slightly tighter, “I’m glad you were.”

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

  Gideon sat at her station going over the reports J’onn had asked her to review. She was tired because she wasn’t sleeping very well. Arguing with her Captain was something she had always done but when she had been an AI, and in control of his environment, Gideon could make him listen to her. Now she couldn’t get him to listen to her because all he did was try to wrap her in cotton wool and hide her away.

She missed Rip but right now she couldn’t keep fighting with him.

“Uh oh,” Winn’s voice made her turn to the man beside her, “We have a problem. J’onn, Alex, I need you guys here now.”

“What’s wrong?” Gideon asked.

Winn held up his hand asking her for patience until the other two arrived.

“Report, Mr Schott,” J’onn demanded the moment he and Alex reached them.

Winn grimaced bringing up a report, “Just received news that the Burnham Gallery has been taken over by hostiles and they’ve taken hostages. No idea how many of either, but they’re sending out one demand.”

“Which is?” Alex asked.

Winn grimaced, “For Supergirl to surrender to them.”

Alex frowned, “Well that’s not going to happen anytime soon.”

“Does Kara know about this?” Gideon asked.

Winn shrugged, “No idea. She was at Cat Co last time I talked to her.”

“Which means she probably knows. Call her,” J’onn noted, “If she doesn’t answer call Olsen, find out where she is. You have something else, Gideon?”

“Cryptic Motto is hired a great deal for these types of functions,” Gideon said, “It is possible Deena may have some information on the party that was happening.”

J’onn nodded, “Good point. Call her too.”

  Gideon took a breath hoping that it wasn’t Rip who answered the phone. She didn’t know if he was working having deliberately made sure she didn’t know his schedule.

“Cryptic Motto,” Deena answered to Gideon’s relief.

“Deena, this is Gideon,” she stated.

“Hi,” the other woman greeted, “Michael isn’t here just now.”

Relief filled her slightly, “I’m not looking to talk to him. I needed to check something with you.”

“Sure.”

“You are hired for parties, correct,” Gideon asked, relieved they’d given the back story that Gideon and Alex worked for the police when they first met her.

Deena chuckled, “It’s happening a lot lately.”

“Were you hired for the Burnham Gallery today?”

“Yes,” the reply was filled with questions, “Gideon, is something wrong?”

“Some people have taken over the Gallery taking hostages,” Gideon explained, “Can you check with whomever you had working if they are alright? We may need them to give us information.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, which Gideon had expected assuming Deena was checking the news.

“Oh, Gideon,” Deena suddenly came back on, “I’m sorry.”

Confusion and worry filled her, “What’s wrong?”

“Simon was meant to do the party,” Deena explained, “But he has food poisoning. Michael agreed to take over for me.”

Gideon felt all the air rush out of her lungs as she turned to the screen showing the leader of the terrorists stating that they would start executing hostages within the hour if Supergirl didn’t show.

“What’s wrong?” Alex demanded worriedly taking the phone from her.

Turning to her friend, Gideon whispered, “Rip is there.”

Alex quickly spoke with Deena before hanging up, her hand resting comfortingly on Gideon’s shoulder throughout.

“It gets worse,” Winn stated grimly, “Kara is already there. She was covering the opening for the paper.”

“Why is that bad?” Alex demanded.

Winn sighed, “Because the satellites show they’ve somehow got Kryptonite.”

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

  Rip listened to their captors as they demanded Supergirl appear or they would start killing hostages.

They were out of time.

“Can you tell where the Kryptonite is?” Rip murmured to Kara, “Or anything about it?”

Kara shook her head, “No. I’ve never been able to sense anything except it hurts.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed, “But I’ve had enough of sitting here.”

Frowning slightly she whispered back, “What are you going to do, Rip? There are six of them, two of us and I’m completely useless.”

Rip grimaced slightly, falling silent as one of the men walked past them, “Do you remember when I worked on the Phoenix?”

Kara nodded.

“Well the first thing I did was disable the Time Drive but I am nothing if not extremely paranoid,” Rip shrugged, “I may have kept some parts and integrated them into my watch.”

Kara stared at him, “Why would you do that? I thought you trusted us.”

“I do,” he breathed, “But someone came after Gideon and I cannot let anyone hurt her. I need to be prepared.”

She grimaced for a second, “Okay, what’s your plan?”

“What I have will only move us a few minutes in time if we’re lucky but I should be able to transport us to another room,” he explained, “If I’m right it’ll take us to the basement. Hopefully it should be far enough away from the Kryptonite for your powers to return.”

Glancing around the room Kara nodded, “Do it.”

  Rip knew revealing his little toy to Kara meant the rest of the DEO would find out but right now that was unimportant. Using his thumbnail he opened the small catch at the side of the watch and eased out the filament then connected it to make a temporary Time Courier.

“Hold onto me,” Rip told her, “This might feel strange.”

Kara followed his order as Rip activated the portal below them. They fell and the portal instantly closed behind them just as they slammed into the floor.

Rip stood helping Kara to her feet as he looked around at the sun filled room with the glass ceiling.

“Okay, not the basement,” Rip noted watching Kara close her eyes as she absorbed the sunlight, “But a much better location.”

“They’re going to notice we’re missing soon,” Kara said turning to him.

Rip nodded, “But as we’re now five minutes before we left we have some time. How do you feel?”

“Stronger,” she replied with a slight smile.

“Can you check where our friends are?” Rip asked.

Taking a deep breath Kara scanned the building below her, “There are four in the room with all the hostages, one in the main office and one just at the stairs. I think the one in the main office has the Kryptonite.”

“Does our friend at the stairs have any weapons?”

Kara nodded, “A gun and two knives.”

“I can use them,” he replied, “Once we’ve taken him out, I’ll go to the office and take out the one with the Kryptonite while you rescue everyone else.”

  It had been some time since Rip had been in a proper fight. He specifically tried to keep away from things like that these days. He wanted a quiet life. Then again Rip did spend a lot of his free time in the gym making sure he was fit, so he wouldn’t just stand by and let people be hurt.

The man was surprised when Rip jumped over the banister above him meaning Rip’s first few blows were a shock giving them greater power. Within a minute Rip had knocked the other man unconscious taking the knives and gun before he turned to Kara who was watching him surprise in her eyes.

“I spent fifteen years on my own protecting the timeline, Kara,” Rip noted as he tucked the knives into his belt, “And I grew up on the streets. That was me being nice.”

Kara reached out and took his hand, “One day you’re going to sit and tell us everything you’re hiding.”

Squeezing her hand slightly, Rip shook his head, “You’re far too virtuous and noble to hear my full story. I’m not a good person, Kara.”

“I think Gideon and everyone you’ve ever saved would disagree with you,” Kara told him, “I know I do.”

Rip dropped his eyes becoming very interested in the gun he was holding.

“You’ve tried really hard not to be one of us,” Kara continued, “But it didn’t work. You’re basically my big brother now and I know Alex thinks of you that way too.”

At the acceptance of this young woman who embodied everything that was good and pure in the world Rip felt himself smile slightly. He’d not been accepted unconditionally in a long time.

“We have a job to do,” Rip broke the moment, “Let’s get these people to safety.”

Kara nodded, “How do you want me to carry you?”

He rolled his eyes and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, “Just fly.”

She grinned and lifted them into the air, Kara caught his hand when he let go of her swinging him through the window of the office before she headed to save the hostages.

Part Three - Opportunities

[gobigorgohome2016]

The Allure of High Mileage Running

The 100 Mile Week. For as long as I can remember, high mileage has intrigued me.  Of course, this probably partly stems from spending high school glued to message boards like letsrun, dyestat, and indianarunner, where a person’s worth was strongly tied to his (rarely her) running ability.  I’m sure that growing up reading stories about Deena Kastor’s monster mileage didn’t help with my fascinaton, either.

In high school I was a fairly high mileage runner, topping out around 45 or 50 miles per week.  I think a lot of high schoolers do that now, but at the time we only trained for a 4k race.  I have always enjoyed mileage, and my body seems to respond better the more that I run.  

In college, I was a low mileage runner because I was always injured.  I remember the first time I ran a 60 mile week.  I was pretty proud of that moment.  Also in college my fascination with 100 mile weeks grew after hearing legends of former (male) teammates that pursued 100 mile / 100 beer challenges. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t even do a 100 mile / 10 beer challenge in a week (the beer being the limiting factor), but nevertheless my interest was piqued.  Would I be able to run 100 miles someday?  At that point, I figured likely not since I could barely make it past 40 miles without injuries.

When I got to grad school I realized it didn’t really matter how much I ran, since I wasn’t planning to take running seriously anymore.  What if I just pushed my limits instead?  I distinctly remember my first 70 mile week in January 2012.  Dave and I went to The Rail (now defunct) to celebrate.  Well, Dave didn’t need a reason to celebrate, but 70 miles in 7 days without getting hurt seemed as good a reason as any to have overpriced hipster drinks.  That night we also realized that I never picked up my car from a trail head I had parked at during the week, since I ultimately just ran home one day to add on miles.  (it’s easy to forget about your car when you live in a college town!)

My first 80 mile week was when I was training for Chicago, the time I didn’t finish the race, in 2012. I felt badass, especially because I completed the mileage during one of the hottest weeks in July, and in 5.5 days (I had taken a day off and had a 4 mile day that week as well).  I felt strong and badass.  I knew the mileage was working for me.

I didn’t hit 90 for the first time until I was training for Chicago the second time, in 2014, when I did finish the race.  6 weeks out I did an over distance training run of 32 miles, and easily got 90 in 5 days of running that week.  If I wasn’t so dead from 32 miles on horse trails, I would have surely gone out and gotten in the extra mileage to hit 100, but I fortunately realized that would have been dumb.  

My first 100 mile week came when I was training for the trials.  I have never been as simultaneously exhausted and satisfied.

For me, my satisfaction with running has always been intrinsically tied to two things:  doing new things I’ve never done before, like highest mileage ever or longest streak of 100+ mile weeks, and my success as a runner. I guess for me I have seen the most success when my mileage is high, so I’m hooked.  Of course that begs the question:  am I successful at running simply because I am satisfied with my training, or is the training making me a better runner?  I have always strongly believed that the foundation of success is simply believing that the way you are training is the best, and never doubting.  

But, why is 100 miles a seemingly magic number for me?  

No matter where you look, it appears that 100 mile weeks is what separates the elite runner from the super serious runner – at least if you read online message boards, running magazines, or talk to old school coaches.  

Yet, the pursuit of the 100 mile week is ultimately the undoing of many runners.  Where did this arbitrary number come from, and are we so wedded to the idea of 100-or-bust?  

From my research, Jack Daniels suggests that aerobic benefit ceases around 70 – 75 miles per week. Beyond that number, runners simply improve their running economy as they add more mileage.  What I have yet to find, however, is any research on how a runner feels after hitting certain barriers in training, and how that mentality ultimately affects training.  

For instance, I take a shit-ton (that’s a scientific unit, right) of pride in being able to sustain 100 mile weeks sans injury.  Assuming I finish out this week as planned, I will have three 100 mile weeks under my belt in a row.  (kind of. One was a 98 mile week and the other a 97 – close enough).

As an aside, that’s another funny thing about 100 mile weeks – 98 miles is pretty damn near 100 miles, so why didn’t I round up?  For whatever reason, that 2% difference feels more significant than the difference between, say, 45 miles and 50 miles.  2% versus 10%.  This fact doesn’t make a whole lot of logical sense.

Also, this is where runners tend to run into problems.  You may be asking, if you were 3 miles from a 100 mile week, why didn’t you just go out and run an extra 3 miles?  Well, because that would be stupid.  It seems like high mileage would be filled with a lot of junk runs, but it really isn’t (at least not for me).  At a certain point, you realize there are weeks where you really shouldn’t run extra mileage for the sake of extra mileage, no matter what your log looks like at the end of the week.  I think that reaching this level of maturity is important, but it took me being a complete idiot to grasp that concept (i.e. the time I ran 115 miles the week I got food poisoning.  Not my best life decision).

So, again, why is 100 mile weeks considered this magic training number?  As far as I can tell, this started with Arthur Lydiard, who advocated high mileage running, but I can’t find anything that specifically says 100 miles is the magic number.  I’m curious if anyone has an idea why runners seem to feel that 100 mile weeks separate the women from the girls?

Frankly, I think that high mileage – at least when run consistently – is probably beneficial because it forces you to take care of all the little things that runners neglect if you want to continue to sustain this type of training.  For instance, there are certain rules one must abide by when hitting mega mileage, and those include:

Sleep:  my first few weeks of hundreds will require 10 – 12 hours of sleep (including naps). I hear stories occasionally of runners attempting 100 mile weeks off of 6 – 7 hours of sleep.  I think adrenaline can get you through maybe 2 weeks of that before your body crashes.

running lots of miles makes you tired.  coffee is important.

Self Care:  Even though my body feels best during big mileage, I acknowledge that it requires more care.  You can injure yourself in the dumbest ways when you’re running a lot (ask my massage therapist, she could probably write a book on the stupid ways I have tweaked muscles).  At the same time, a little bit of self care goes a long way at this mileage because your immune system is on high alert.  The other day I tweaked my calf muscle, and 6 hours of icing, recovery yoga, legs up the wall, foam rolling, stretching, compression sleeves, and having Dave dig his fingers into my calf resulted in a pain free run the next morning.  

Nutrition:  This is the trickiest part.  When you’re averaging 14.3 miles per day, you’re bound to run through a meal.  If you’re like me, you’re also not at all hungry after a hot and humid longer run.  Kefir, cheese, crackers, whole-fat foods, yogurt, protein shakes, and high-carb / high – calorie / high-protein foods are your best friend.  Also, all the popsicles.  

There is a conundrum at this mileage when it comes to nutrition.  You want to eat as healthy as possible, but healthy foods aren’t always calorie dense.  Sometimes your stomach fills up before you reach your caloric or macronutrient needs. It is so important at this mileage to remember that quantity (of calories) is sometimes more important than quality.  If all that is available to me in the foreseeable future is a big mac and fries, you better believe that is what I’m going to eat.  

sugar = glycogen = necessary

Singles vs. Doubles:  At 70 – 80 miles per week, doubles seem easier.  But, when I am 90+ mpw, I would much rather run singles.  I’m not sure why this is, but going for a 14 mile run sure as hell beats a lot of 8 and 6 mile days.  

Weight lifting:  I used to attempt high mileage weeks without lifting.  It was fine, for like 3 weeks.  Then I started noticing my imbalances and lack of lifting is probably what contributed to a lot of the problems I had in my right leg last year. My biggest takeaway from that experience:  if you can’t sustain your mileage + lifting, drop your mileage to the highest level you can sustain while getting in the extra work.  

Flexibility:  My massage therapist does range of motion and flexibility work.  Without seeing her every two weeks, there is no way I could ever sustain this mileage.  I also go to yoga once per week, and try to incorporate as much recovery into my weekly routine as possible.

Speed:  I was talking to someone recently who asked me what my three pieces of advice would be for a marathoner.  He was surprised when I said speed work, like strides, were one of the most important components.  There is a misconception that running a lot of mileage results in slowness.  That’s only true if you only run all of your mileage slowly.  I do speedwork and strides every week, and I know that when I am in peak marathon shape I could also PR in nearly every other distance.  

Pace:  I think another misconception is that “slow” miles are junk miles at high mileage - but I also think this idea is perpetuated by people who believe that all mileage must be fast.  There are times when I am in the best shape of my life that I do 10 mile runs in 90 minutes, or 20 mile runs in 2:40:00.  Some days you just have to meet your body where it’s at, and respect that when you’re running mega mileage there will be more opportunities for bad days. When that happens I just throw on some extra strides at the end and call it even.  Slow days (for you) don’t mean you aren’t in shape or that you’re losing fitness, it’s just important to remember that effort is more important than speed sometimes.

What Does a 100 Mile Week Look Like?

Here is what my most recent 100 mile week looked like:

Monday:  10 miles (double, 6 and 4) + yoga – I always do super easy 10 on Mondays, whether that means 10 in 90 minutes, or a little bit quicker but in doubles.  Recovery yoga is also an every Monday occurrence.

Tuesday:  2 mile warm up, strides, 8 mile tempo in 48:27, 2.5 mile cool down + weight lifting.  My plan was to hit 5:55 – 6:00 pace for this run, but with 14 mph winds and most of the route affected by the wind, I was very happy with this run.  Overall average was 6:03 pace, which is faster than my marathon PR and the effort felt great.

Wednesday:  8 miles easy AM, 3 miles easy PM, + massage.  Normally I would do 10 and 4 on Wednesday, but my sister was in town so things got changed to accommodate for all the walking we were going to do (4 miles of walking).

Thursday:  14 miles w/ last 400 m of each mile hard + weight lifting I love this workout.  Makes the miles go quickly and has great aerobic and anaerobic benefits.  I forgot my watch and nutrition, so I had to make an adjustment and run it as an out-and-back on a path that is marked every 400 m.  Not my favorite way to do this workout, but it’s always good to practice things going wrong for when crazy things happen on race day.

Friday:  4 miles AM, 12 miles PM + strides having friends to run with is nice!

Saturday:  21 miles, I have been running 20+ milers since early July, so now I am focusing more on quality than just time on my feet

Sunday:  15 miles, I like to join friends during their 20+ milers on Sunday so that I can get in a relaxed semi-long run.  Back to back long runs have been good for me!

So there it is.  I don’t know why I’m obsessed with high mileage – especially when I don’t really love running for the sake of running – but it does make me feel badass and powerful.  Do I think everyone should run 100 mile weeks?  No – especially if you are unable to recover from them or are unable to take care of the little things.  I do think there is something to be said for running the highest mileage that you can sustain individually if you are going after a goal, but much of that comes from the extra vigilance people use when chasing a new benchmark as well as the satisfaction they feel when new achievements have been reached!    

[asfeedin]

Couples earning over $150,000 get less than $2,400 in their stimulus check. Is that threshold too low or too high? Readers weigh in

Under the Trump administration’s $2.2 trillion CARES Act, the Internal Revenue Service is sending $1,200 to individuals with annual adjusted gross income below $75,000 and $2,400 to married couples filing taxes jointly who earn under $150,000, plus $500 per qualifying child. The payments begin to shrink above those levels. Do you think that threshold is too low or too high?

On Monday, a reader named John wrote to The Moneyist to say he did not receive a $1,200 stimulus check because he filed his 2019 taxes early. However, had the IRS assessed him on his 2018 tax return, he says he would have received $1,200. John told MarketWatch:

“In 2018, I made about $155,000 with my wife. In 2019, I got a promotion and our combined annual income was $198,000. I filed my taxes early as I am very responsible, and now I found out that, had I had not filed my 2019 taxes, we would have received a combined $2,400 versus the $200 we just received. I was punished for being responsible. I find this very unjust, and poorly thought out.”

Some readers, like Glenn, qualified for the $1,200 stimulus check, but although Glenn earns even less money than John he’s going to give it away to those less fortunate. “That money should be going to people who need it a lot more than we do,” he said. He added:

“My wife and I earn $90,000 a year. She has Social Security and I will retire this summer. COVID-19 is hurting our retirement funds, but we need to have a little perspective. I’m not losing my job. We aren’t going to have trouble paying our mortgage or buying food. The federal government needs to discriminate between the needy and the merely unfortunate. I’m giving my stimulus check away.”

“Having my job moved online is increasing my work load by 50%. Still, I will find some time this week to figure out how to give my $1,200 stimulus check to where it should have gone in the first place. Are there funds in my city to help laid off workers? Funds to help small business owners pay their rent? I don’t know, but I am going to find out. If not, I will give it to a Food Bank.”

Deena wrote to The Moneyist to say the stimulus checks don’t go far enough: “ALL of our incomes are being effected by the coronavirus and our stimulus checks should be distributed equally. I think its funny that people think $150,000 is too high.”

Deena wrote: “As a married person with 5 kids and a mother that lives with us I think $150,000 is too low. Kids are expensive and they eat a lot, not to mention medical and dental bills, especially now that school is out. You also have to take into consideration cost of computers and printers for them to be able to work on their school work at the same time.”

Another reader, Rachel, also responded to John’s letter. She wrote that she recently lost her job. “Chances are that we will make even less money this year, so maybe the point is moot for us,” she said. Like Glenn, she believes a $150,000 threshold is too high. Rachel wrote:

“I happen to feel that the $150,000 threshold for a couple filing jointly is too high. I live in Connecticut, but with an annual household income varying between $45,000 and $60,000, I consider ourselves members of the working poor. Unless one has medical bills, a family making $150,000 should be able to put food on the table without help from the government. We consider ourselves fortunate.”

The Moneyist replied to John’s dilemma, and said, “There are many people out there living paycheck to paycheck.” He said he’s out of luck and unlikely to receive a $1,200 stimulus check unless he earns less money in 2020 and receives a credit in his 2020 tax returns:

“The IRS is using 2018 tax returns as a Plan B for those who did not file their returns for last year. It’s not a Plan A. Take heart that those who need it the most will hopefully receive their payment. The IRS will also assess your eligibility based on your adjusted gross income from 2020, so if you earn below the threshold this year, you will likely receive the difference in your refund.”

Dispatches from a pandemic:Letter from New York: ‘New Yorkers wear colorful homemade masks, while nurses wear garbage bags. When I hear an ambulance, I wonder if there’s a coronavirus patient inside. Are there more 911 calls, or do I notice every distant siren?’

Coronavirus update: As of Tuesday, there were 2,544,769 million confirmed cases of coronavirus and 175,621 fatalities worldwide. More than 247,500 of the 814,587 confirmed cases in the U.S. were in New York State. There were 14,604 deaths in New York City, which remains the national epicenter, according to Johns Hopkins University’s Center for Systems Science and Engineering.

Cuomo confirmed 251,720 cases of COVID-19 in New York State on Tuesday, and another 481 deaths overnight, marking the second consecutive day since early April that the number of overnight deaths were under 500. The governor said that the state would reopen gradually. “When you say New York, people think New York City, one of the densest places on the globe,” he said.

“The worst is over,” Cuomo added, “if we continue to be smart.”

You can email The Moneyist with any financial and ethical questions related to coronavirus at qfottrell@marketwatch.com

Want to read more?Follow Quentin Fottrell on Twitterand read more of his columns here

Do you have questions about how the coronavirus is impacting your life and finances? Send them to MarketWatch’s Moneyist and please include the state where you live (no full names will be used). By submitting your story to Dow Jones & Company, the publisher of MarketWatch, you understand and agree that we may use your story, or versions of it, in all media and platforms, including via third parties.

Would you like to sign up to an email alert when a new Moneyist column has been published? If so, click on this link.

Hello there, MarketWatchers. Check out the Moneyist private Facebook FB, -4.17% group where we look for answers to life’s thorniest money issues. Readers write in to me with all sorts of dilemmas. Post your questions, tell me what you want to know more about, or weigh in on the latest Moneyist columns.

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[todaynewsstories]

U.S. benefits manager baulks after Novartis values gene therapy at $4-5 million

ZURICH (Reuters) – Just weeks after Novartis floated the idea that $4-5 million was fair value for its new gene therapy against a deadly neuromuscular disease, a major benefits manager is pushing back.

Eight-year-old Victoria Gusset sits in her wheelchair as she plays in her room at home in Heimbach, Switzerland October 31, 2018. Picture taken October 31, 2018. REUTERS/Arnd Wiegmann

The Swiss drugmaker’s assessment of AVXS-101’s value for treating spinal muscular atrophy (SMA) has put the company front-and-center in the debate over what “super drugs”, for rare diseases afflicting relatively few patients, are really worth.

Among the first to react was pharmacy benefits manager Express Scripts, which helps U.S. employers manage workers’ prescription costs.

Its chief medical officer, Steve Miller, told Reuters he “loves the science” behind Novartis’s therapy, a potential cure for newborns who are diagnosed early.

But $4 million or more per patient?

“You just can’t keep pushing these price points up,” Miller said. “I just don’t think we can allow it. It is not sustainable over time.”

Novartis, which bought U.S.-based AveXis for $8.7 billion in April to add the SMA therapy to its portfolio, is still mulling its asking price as it awaits U.S. Food and Drug Administration approval, likely in early 2019.

But the company has begun its campaign to convince insurance groups and governments to cover AVXS-101, contending the one-and-done infusion will save society money over the long haul, even with a cost near the highest ever for a one-time therapy.

There’s now only one approved drug for SMA, Biogen’s two-year-old Spinraza, and it is listed at $750,000 for the first year and $350,000 thereafter. Spinraza is not a cure and must be taken indefinitely.

“When we look at 10-year costs, you see somewhere between $2.5 million to $5 million being spent by societies to care for these types of patients,” Dave Lennon, AveXis’s president, said.

“Four million dollars is a significant amount of money, but we believe this is a cost-effective point.”

Though newborns may stand to benefit the most from AVXS-101, depending on the durability of its effect, the therapy is also being tested in older SMA patients with more advanced disease in hopes it will improve their symptoms, too.

A CHILD’S LIFE

A diagnosis of SMA, which affects one in 10,000 live births, is devastating. Forty percent of victims have the severest form and historically die within months.

Children with less severe SMA can live to adulthood, although with profound physical disabilities. Though cognitively normal, many cannot feed themselves and require 24-hour care, wheelchairs and machines to help them breathe and cough.

Janice Kress, a Pennsylvania woman, lost her grandson to the disease at 5 months.

Today she volunteers for SMA charity events and knows families who have fought their U.S. insurers for access to Biogen’s Spinraza, as payers seek to rein in costs using eligibility criteria like age or when symptoms began.

“A child’s life — how can you say no?” Kress said.

PRICE WATCHDOG

As Novartis prepares to launch AVXS-101, it also hopes for tacit endorsement of its pricing strategy from the non-profit Institute for Clinical and Economic Review (ICER), which is currently reviewing the cost-effectiveness of SMA therapies.

The Boston-based non-profit, established in 2006, carries out cost-benefit analyses on drugs that it calls independent of “Big Pharma”, insurers and government.

Unlike European price regulators, ICER cannot dictate costs.

But it has steadily gained influence in the U.S. pricing debate, as companies like Express Scripts and CVS Caremark and governments rely on its analyses.

ICER has conducted 11 assessments in 2018, some covering multiple drugs.

In seven of the reviews, it concluded drugs’ prices aligned with their benefits, like when it said Roche’s $482,000 hemophilia medicine Hemlibra could save the U.S. system up to $1.9 million for the hardest-to-treat patients.

Four times, however, ICER concluded drugmakers were asking too much, giving payers ammunition to bargain them down.

For instance, the New York Department of Health told Reuters that ICER’s finding that a $270,000-per-year cystic fibrosis drug from Vertex Pharmaceuticals represented “low long-term value” helped underpin the state’s demand for a steep discount.

JUST ONE FINGER

Novartis and Biogen, as well as Switzerland’s Roche, which also has an SMA drug in development, are all lobbying ICER to broaden what it considers a meaningful benefit, potentially helping their therapies fare well in the group’s review.

The ability to move one finger might not seem like much, but Biogen told ICER such a measure should be considered, since it might allow somebody with SMA to steer an electric wheelchair and maintain a level of independence.

“We recently spoke with a young man who is…now losing ability and power in his fingers,” said Sangeeta Jethwa, Roche’s head of patient partnerships, told Reuters.

“He wants to be able to go out with his friends and open his own bottle of drink. That for him is fantastically meaningful.”

For its SMA review, ICER aims to quantify factors like quality of life, direct medical costs and how patient and caregiver productivity losses may burden society.

A head-to-head comparison of Spinraza’s and AVXS-101’s financial impacts over time is also planned before ICER issues its final report in March.

ICER spokesman David Whitrap said ICER’s review takes eight months so it can “rigorously evaluate all of the available evidence.”

The stakes are high for Biogen, after Britain’s healthcare cost agency, the National Institute for Health and Care Excellence, has concluded Spinraza was too expensive to be cost-effective.

Though Spinraza, whose nine-month 2018 sales hit $1.25 billion, is available in the United States and elsewhere in Europe, Biogen wants to avoid a negative ICER assessment that gives payers more leverage to demand rebates.

“We are confident in the evidence supporting the value it provides,” a Biogen spokeswoman said.

SIGNS OF PROGRESS

Treatments for rare diseases like SMA are increasingly popular among drugmakers, because they command high prices while insurers are hard pressed to reject claims, especially for sick children.

Sales of rare disease therapies will rise 11 percent annually, nearly twice the overall market rate, through 2024, when they’ll hit $262 billion, consultancy Evaluate Pharma has forecast.

Novartis Chief Executive Vas Narasimhan, with ambitions of treating hundreds of SMA patients annually, highlights 90 kids in AVXS-101 trials over four years, including some who would otherwise have been incapacitated and fed through tubes.

“With AVXS-101… patients are alive and thriving,” Narasimhan said.

There were no SMA therapies, however, when Victoria Gusset, an eight-year-old Swiss girl with a shy smile and love for horses, was diagnosed as a toddler after failing to stand independently.

Today, Victoria is in a trial testing how Spinraza may improve muscle control or halt its decline in older children.

Every four months, Victoria and her mother, Nicole Gusset, load her electric wheelchair into their van and drive two hours from their home near Bern to a German hospital for a spinal infusion.

Victoria looks forward to each trip, though she sometimes suffers from nausea and headaches following treatment.

“I get to go shopping with mum,” she said.

After her daughter’s diagnosis, Nicole Gusset founded an SMA patient organization and has been lobbying the Swiss government to expand access to Spinraza. Children under 20 have coverage, but most insurers refuse to pay for adults.

Slideshow (6 Images)

Gusset said Novartis’s $4 million announcement sent shockwaves through Switzerland’s SMA community, heightening fears that escalating costs will keep new treatments out of reach for some who might benefit.

“The best therapies are useless if patients cannot get them,” she said.

(the story vorrects paragraph 22 to show ICER conducted 11 assessments in 2018, not reviewed 11 treatments)

Reporting by John Miller in Zurich, Deena Beasley in Los Angeles and Caroline Humer in New York; Editing by Mike Collett-White

Our Standards:The Thomson Reuters Trust Principles.

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[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

WhatsApp? Part 3. (Steve Rogers x reader)

Description: You’ve never been lucky with guys. You just wanted to catch someone’s eye, to be loved. One day, that’s about to turn completely - with one fake, completely imagined number a guy gave you

A/N: let's face the FACTS - I'm going more with the “Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan” dynamic than with “Sam’s and Bucky’s” but let me just say... I enjoy it like hell.

Warnings: Bucky and Sam being actual children and Bucky calling Sam cloaca. (Find it online if you don't have any idea what that means. :D)

Tagging: @missdictatorme

Read other parts here: Part One  Part Two

You felt every inch of your fucking body just burn. Your nerves have been putting up the pressure in you from the moment he agreed with that stupid game Peter has adviced to you. (Peter liked it, he said it was enjoyable and that they, as a class, had a ton of fun answering those questions, so it wasn't THAT bad. But you felt like a teenager once again.)

You laid down to you pajamas with some popcorn you've made for this occasion, playing the movie in the background.

Steve: Text me when you're ready. I have arrived at home now.

That was an hour ago. And Steve had sleeping issues. You knew he wouldn't be sleeping, and even tho you felt bad to write to that polite man at 9 p.m.

---

Y/N: Okay, I'm ready. You have the first question to ask, Steve.

Steve swallowed and watched American football on the TV. His only concern was if she found out and if she did - did she freak out? Sam and Bucky were bouncing on the sofa next to him, fully occupied by the TV, caught up in the game. They were yelling; Sam was a fan of the team in the blue colors and even tho Buck was a fan of them as well, when he found out, he immediately swore on that he isn't an actual Jesus that he's more inclined to the other team just to piss Sam off.

That was long forgotten because their favorite team had scored and they yelled like two girls going through puberty.

Steve: So, my first question is... My deepest concern is, how do you feel about me?

It was a simple question. Only some words. Yet it felt like if the fire consumed him alive during waiting on the answer. He leaned his chin into his palm, his leg was jumping all around and his eyes were checking his phone every half of the second.

It was kinda hard trying to ignore maneuvers like these from that tall and huge guy, so it didn't stay unnoticed for a long time.

Sam looked at Steve with concern and the football started to fade away for a moment. His elbow nudged Bucky's hip as his head moved in Steve's direction.

"Fuck, look at him. I forgot that our boy has his big online dating thingy today." - Sam grinned hard. - "I feel like a proud mom, Bucky."

"Oh, lord!" - Bucky exclaimed with fake drama in his voice. Steve knew really well what is about to come; he wished really hard to take back when Natasha told Bucky the 'language story'. - " Watch your language! And that thing you've said about being the mom is totally right because I'm a bigger man than you in every way." - Bucky tried to help Steve because, at that point, Steve looked like a bottle of spilled ketchup. He was trying to make birdbrain argue with him.

"Hold your horses, cyborg. You may be bigger but Sammy can fly, can you fly?" - Sam shoved some chips into his mouth. - "Don't think so. That why I do better with chicks, at least more than you do."

"Listen up, cloaca. If you're trying to make me believe that your cheap sellout of Stark's suits you have in your closet is actually sexy in some way," - Bucky answered angrily. Steve was laughing at that point. Those arguments were maybe almost every day between Buck and Sam, but that was just the way their friendship worked. They couldn't communicate in normal human language. They specifically needed to argue.

"You are disgusting. You called me cloaca? Do you even know what it means?" - Sam exclaimed at that pictures in his head. Bucky looked fucking proud with himself, watching birdbrain with that shit-eating grin on his face. - "Jesus Christ, Ewwww, you're disgusting and that's why," - Steve stopped to listen at that exact moment because his phone finally vibrated with an answer.

Y/N: Hmmm... Tough one. I think you're a really polite and well-raised man. You're really nice and you overall feel like a good person.

That made Steve sigh with huge relief. She didn't know. Or at least she didn't shove it right into his face.

Y/N: Anyway, tell me more about yourself. My first question is: what do you like to wear at home?

That, for change, made Steve smile. That was such a sweet and innocent question full of pure wondering from Y/N. Smooth move.

"His expression is weird." - Sam mumbled to Bucky quietly. - "I think our boy has his first boob pic."

"How many times do I have to tell you that this isn't how Steve's acting with a lady? You do have a brain or a bird or what?" - Bucky whispered back unbelievably.

"Well, let me tell you," - Sam traced off the topic to explain that his brain is actually bigger because he isn't a frost neanderthal man like Bucky is.

Steve: I like to wear something comfortable. Some normal t-shirt and sweat pants I guess, when it's hot I tend to wear loose shorts. I am not at work so what would be the stress for?

Steve: Anyway. My second question is: what kind of restaurants do you like?

And this was something that made Steve grin. He thought he made a really smooth move. He was proud of himself. That was bold.

"Oh. He's getting the dating game pretty on. Just look at him. He didn't look this pleased with himself since he only half-burnt the turkey for Thanksgiving." - Sam jumped on the option to comment on Steve again. He didn't hesitate a single second if he had a way to collide with Steve's personal space. No matter how hard Bucky tried to keep Samuel Wilson occupied, he was really good at multitasking.

"That's it, fellas." - Steve stood up with a smile. Bucky knew that he's just enjoying himself and he was really happy for that man. But Sam didn't understand the meaning of privacy. - "I'll go to bed and I'll tell you how it all went in the morning."

“Come on, man! Wheres the fun in that?” - Sam exclaimed with a laugh when Steve got up for real and let them watch the football.

---

Steve: Anyway. My second question is: what kind of restaurants do you like?

You were taken away with that. So Steve could be smooth as well. He wasn't that smooth during those fourteen days, so you were a bit shocked by his smoothness. Also, you couldn't erase the tee and sweats image from your mind. He liked being comfy, to take a rest from his work. You liked that.

Y/N: That was smooth, Steve. Really. But my favorite kind of restaurants? I think a good plate of food is a great bonus when you actually like that place. I like simple, intimate, quiet restaurants if I have to be honest with you.

Y/N: Wirble, my third question is: What kind of women do you like?

You locked the screen of your phone, watching the movie you chose, not that it actually mattered now, with anxiety. Maybe it was too far - but you truly were curious about that. What if you two decided to see each other in person and suddenly you weren't his type? What then? 

You were anxious to know the answer. So you naturally freaked out when five minutes passed and Steve was still silent as a grave. You were sure that you took things too far. You had felt he maybe is a bit shy, but this was just bitchy move. You were just about to apologize for being too nosy when Steve answered your text.

Steve: Now THAT'S a difficult question. But I swore that I'll be honest with you so... I don't think it's about the looks exactly. It's maybe a nice bonus when a woman has full lips and beautiful eyes, but I'm attracted to women who have self-confidence and who can take care of themselves. I like to care for ladies, but there's nothing prettier than a girl who can look after herself. Another personality trait that I like their humor and intelligence... I could go on for hours. Let's say I don't care as much? When we click, we click. That's how I feel about that.

That complex answer told you that Steve truly is shy. He didn't know how to answer properly and easily. It felt like he doesn't really know what type is his type. He only made it worse for himself. You got a feeling that Steve actually doesn't know what kind of women does he like. Was he really that innocent? It felt like if Steve never actually tried to... Date someone.

You laughed at your dumbness. Of course, Steve dated someone. With his manners? Which girl would not want a guy with manners? And you didn't even know about his astonishing good looks at that moment.

Steve: Okay. My fourth question is... What do you look like? Sorry if it's too personal. I just kind of wish to know what to imagine.

You were fucking surprised. He went just fully in. You two were truly getting to know each other better than before. You were sure that after that evening, you will not be able to get back into those formal texts again. From strangers, you slowly began to build a friendship. It was a normal question.

Y/N: I am a normal girl, nothing too extraordinary. I have Y/C hair and Y/C eyes and my friends say that I am kinda cute and pretty, especially in glasses. I like to wear something comfortable, but I like to get pretty for occasions. Jeans and v-neck shirt probably suit me the best.

Y/N: Let me continue with a question... What do you do for a living?

You were watching your phone nervously, frowning a bit and biting your lip down. You were curious about that question because Deena always said that occupation can say a lot about a person. But you didn't expect what Steve said to you.

Steve: That's... Quite complicated to explain, Y/N. Trust me, I would love to tell you, but let's just keep this a secret, alright? I swear I will tell you one day.

You were confused as hell. What for the fuck's sake was his occupation? Was he some kind of a celebrity bodyguard? Your mind cut through a million of horrifying scenarios within one minute. Was he a part of some mafia? Or was he a killer for a living? What the hell? 

Steve: But it's my turn to ask. What do you do for a living and do you have any hobbies?

--- 

Steve legitimately panicked the minute you asked him. You surely didn't know who he was. Because if you knew, you would drop a hint, small clue at least. A clue that you knew. But you just casually asked what was his occupation. He knew that if he had met you outside the virtual life and you would ask about his life, he would choke out some words, muttering them quietly. He would not be able to say a meaningful sentence. 

He had your image, or at least its essence, in his mind. You must've looked like a really nice woman. And he was curious about the contours of your face, especially with your glasses on. He was... Eager to know more about you, those formal texts were long forgotten now. And kind. Your answer supported that immediately.

Y/N: I work as a social worker for a charity in Queens. We do a lot of different things, helping and supporting homeless people with some clothes and food, we're arranging some occasions for orphanages and we do some events for handicapped people... There's a lot of ways to make the world better. We'll have an arrangement at the Annual Charity Event hosted by Stark Industries, you know, trying to raise some funds. We're training our dancing choreography now. And for my hobbies, I am a simple girl. You know... Hanging out with friends, sometimes reading, I tried to play the guitar, I am an occasional photographer, trust me, I've tried everything... I am a normal girl, as I said.

He literally melted because of a partially strange girl at the exact moment he read your text. You weren't completely strange to Steve at that moment, but you weren't exactly friends at that point either. But the way you spoke about your occupation? Making the world around you better? Trying to work hard for the society? You definitely earned a big heartwarming smile from that super-serum giant.

Y/N: Okay, one last question, Steve. I will repeat one of yours - give me some image of you. I want to know how you appear like a man and some of your personal traits. I just know you're most likely in some sweat pants and a t-shirt, which is not much. :)

You. Were. Nailing. Steve. Rogers. So. Much.

Your text was clearly meant to be ended with a joke which earned you a soft giggle (G I G G L E) from that old man. It was curious yet it had boundaries of formality, not attacking his personal space. You knew how to move him in the best imaginable way. This was way better than that formal texting you two went through for the last couple of weeks. He found it... Somehow charming. And to say amusing was a huge misleading word.

He was having fun.

Steve: Alright, alright. I think I'm not able to wiggle out of this one. :)

Steve: What do I look like? It's kind of hard to describe yourself. I am definitely very tall, taller than most of my friends. I gained a pretty big body over time (The sweet and gentle, definitely shy man didn't find better words to describe what super-serum had done to his body). I have blue eyes, I'm blonde and my hair is too long now. One of my friends, Nat, told me that I am really handsome when I don't know about that. I am not convinced that it is true.

Steve: For my hobbies... I do a lot of things. A LOT. I am not much of a sleeper, so I read during the nights, I watch movies with my fellas; one of them always chooses. I love learning about modern culture and technologies, but the '40s with WWII are really something to me. It definitely is a 'guilty pleasure' to me. And I love morning jogs and to have a good work out. :)

Steve definitely outdid himself with this one. He was legit proud of himself for writing such a long text with some actual meaning. And he even dropped the hint about who he was. He almost patted his own shoulder.

Sadly, it was almost ten p.m., so he knew he would soon have to say goodbye to you. He didn't want to stop at that point.

Steve: But to change the topic, because I definitely don't like being in the spotlight, what did you stop with nicknames? They were somehow fun. ;)

---

And to be honest, Steve himself was nailing you as well. You just laid there, your eyes firmly closed, imagining the man on the other side. You bit your lip and smiled. You believed him - he was sincere and honest with you all this time. Why wouldn't he be now?

Your imagination did a hell of a job. You couldn't but imagine a really, REALLY handsome man having a well-built and ripped body. You almost hugged your phone at this image. You were out of your fucking mind when he asked about nicknames.

Y/N: Well, I didn't want you to find me creepy. A strange girl calling you nicknames? The strangest thing ever. Even tho I think a lot of women must call you handsome, am I right?

Steve: I highly doubt that. Never had exactly the change to go and find out. ;)

A new emoji used twice! Wow. You felt like playing a video game and unlocking an achievement. This was more personal than formal and you loved it.

Y/N: Aaaand... I think you're lying now. You must be so popular with what you've said to me. Good lord. That was an evening, I tell you.

Y/N: I need to go to sleep, Steve. Goodnight and sleep tight, handsome.

Steve: I'm looking forward to text with you tomorrow. ;)

And with that, you fell asleep, smiling to yourself. He was an angel. He had to be one.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

WhatsApp? Part 8. (Steve Rogers x reader)

Description: You’ve never been lucky with guys. You just wanted to catch someone’s eye, to be loved. One day, that’s about to turn completely - with one fake, completely imagined number a guy gave you

A/N:  @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory thank you for reblogging! I notice every note and reblog you left me, babez! But I have a seriously hard time responding even to my own gf at the time, bcs I'm in the more depressed mood. Sorry.

Word count: 2 K 

Tagging: @missdictatorme, @songforhema, @mikariell95

Read the rest here: Part One  Part Two  Part three  Part four  Part five  Part Six  Part seven

If you like to have your readings in order :):  H E R E  

The big evening finally came. Every one of you was in the backstage, listening to some stand-up comedian. He truly was hilarious.

It was simple - there was a hall full of people who had bought the tickets in pre-order. All of that money went to a charity. Then they could give more money if they wanted to the lady by the ticket station. After every show, the hall cleared out and people with tickets on the next show sat at the tables, ordered some drinks and waited for it to start. Some shows had twenty minutes, but there were other people, who had five minutes lasting shows as you were.

There were even people from the Marina present, those who were voted to take the check from Tony Stark himself as well. And they looked like they had a hella good time.

"I will sit next to you, would you mind?" - Deena said, already sitting down. You scooped a bit further to make some place for her ass. Then the both of you turned your heads to look at the guy performing. You both laughed. There was some singers, some bands, some other Charity workers - there was basically everyone. You even got a bit too excited when you saw Pepper freaking Potts sitting at the table in the back of the hall next to Happy Hogan.

Through the whole evening, you texted with Steve. You told him every of your itsy bitsy feelings and he was so kind that he has listened to you all the time. Meanwhile, girls have done your make-up and your hair, so you looked like a real lady coming straight from the forties.

May's hair was the hardest do make - she had a long, strong hair and she has a hell lot of them, which made it almost impossible to do. Yet she was now standing behind you on her high heels, looking definitely breathtaking.

Y/N: Never realizes that there will be so many people out here! I'm getting pretty nervous, handsome.

Steve: Do not freak out. It is going to be completely fine. We are here out with Bucky and Sam, pouring down some drinks. We are looking forward to your performance, girls. We truly do.

Y/N: Yeah, looking forward to seeing me killing somebody else?

Steve: Stop it. You will be great. And you will not convince me otherwise. And I will be there to see all of it.

That made you smile. Steve was the mental and emotional support to you every step you made and every breath you took, just like in that The Police song. When you felt insecure about you looking fat, Steve reminded you of how blown away he was just with the way you looked in that costume. When you thought that your make-up and your hair is too much, Steve texted back that you'll be beautiful to him no matter how much you'll put on.

He truly was trying to make every one of your little insecurities go away and he was doing a great job.

"He's somewhere out here tonight?" - Deena asked all of a sudden. She and Val took some really sultry sapphic photos before that and you were sure that they'll be used when you'll recap your whole year on the office Christmas party. They both looked sexy as hell, Deena even went so far she had shortened her skirt and wear her super push-up bra to make her cleavage more visible.

"Not at the moment, but he'll be. Yeah." - You nodded with a shy smile of a nervous girl. It was so strange, knowing that Steve will be there, checking out each of your moves with his bros.

You never showed him your face, but daily life pics became a next step between for the two of you. When you were at work, you took a simple headless selfie in the bathroom mirror, at lunch you photographed your food and you also sent him a photo of you in your PJ, doing a routine movie watching with some popcorn and Coke.

Steve, on the other hand, was a serious piece of cake. You drooled and you didn't even realize that your mouth was wet all over from your own saliva.

To say that Steve was buffed as fuck was a serious understatement. He was ripped like a Greek god. Maybe even they were nothing on his body. His usual daily selfie was a mirror one with him having a white, usually sweaty t-shirt and grey work out sweats. There was usually a bottle of water included. Sometimes he snapped a quick picture of him getting ready. Once you even felt your heart-stopping because of the sight of his collar bones and shoulders in a work out tank top.

At that moment, you were ready to call yourself some good ol' ambulance, because your eyes were drowning at that sight. He was a guy with a naturally sweet nature, so huge and ripped and yet somehow he hadn't found a girlfriend to be with. You couldn't comprehend.

Before meeting him on WhatsApp, you didn't believe in fucking miracles - but here he was and he seemed to be into you. You were hella out of your mind.

Yep. You had gotten off because of those pictures. Once or twice. But that was not your fault at all. You were a woman, someone who had their specific needs. That's just how it was. And Steve seriously was someone who even Val found seriously attractive.

Girls from the office were obsessed all over you two - sometimes, Deena and Suzie sang that you're in love and you answered that you're not. Which obviously became a really dramatic I won't say I'm in love from Hercules. But yeah. Just to be honest, you were all over the fucking place bevause of him. Which happened never ever before. And you haven't even met that man at the time. It was really fucking weird. It felt like his face isn't important to you - you knew him. That's what mattered.

"Do you think you'll be able to see him? Like a sixth sense? It would be as exciting as the end of the Titanic." - Deena sighed dreamily. You frowned at that.

"If you think that the death of basically 60% of the passengers was exciting... You do you I guess." - You answered with a strange expression on your face. 

“Hey. You have that sexy hunk just waiting for every word you want to write to him and not each of us has the opportunity to have that. Some of us just develop a simple crush on Leo DiCaprio. Did you even see that little angelic baby in that movie? Jeez.” - Deena giggled. When she started, she was deadly serious, but in the end, she was laughing. 

But she was totally clear about her crush on Leo. She even had a collection of t-shirts with Leos face on it. But she was all truthful - not everyone finds someone like you found Steve. All it took was a couple of coincidences and there you were.

“But it's nice. Men like that remind you that gentlemen are not a dead thing yet, even now.” - She leaned her shoulder into yours, smiling all happily. - “But I am a bit jealous about all of that, not gonna lie.” 

Your head slowly bobbed and you leaned your forehead into khaki green cap masterly pinned into her hair with some pinnets. She was looking all good. 

And she was right per se. Steve was truly something the others could be only possibly jealous of. And you should be really, really glad for him

And your gratefulness was the thing that made you all nervous about him being present while you do a total asshat in front of anybody else. 

The time flew past you without you barely noticing. There were two other performers in the line in front of your office, and at the next moment, May was gripping your elbow and lead you to the moral hooray before you actually went to the stage. She was probably the best motivational speaker you ever heard, those men and women with courses were nothing on May Parker.

“Okay ladies, I am sincerely proud of you for not being afraid and actually doing all of this. I can't even express how happy I am that I found so many amazing women to do something like that with me. You're all looking flawless, pretty and lovely and I know we will nail the choreography because we worked hard almost every evening for the past few months, we will nail it. And now stand up and let's kick the others their asses!” - May yelled cheerfully. Every one of you clapped, those who had the need to express themselves louder, those cheerfully blew a whistle for May. 

You feel a little confident - nothing too much harsh, nothing too big, but at least you felt positive about yourself when you took your chair and walked onto the stage.

---

“Can you feel the tension in the air? Something's coming.” - Sam nudged Bucky's side with his elbow. Bucky just gave him an ice-cold look and took his another beer from Sam's palm. 

Steve made Sam take the tickets from the lady sitting behind the counter with all highschool girl nervousness - he was able to almost kill Sam when he joked about leaving the tickets on the counter. He was super nervous, super curious, almost not able to keep the feelings contained inside. 

Their small group walked into one of the back tables with a clear view - you tried to take the best places which will be basically on the distance of a stretched arm. It was also close to the bar, which was some great news for Sam. 

“Just jokin', Mr. Grumpy. I'm kinda curious about that girl. You plan on showing us or you will keep a secret?” - Sam sat on the other side of Bucky, taking a strong swing of his beer. 

“Probably a secret. It would not be fair for you to know her face before she knows mine.” - Steve giggled and crawled deeper into his hood. He was worse than Natasha when she was on her missions, just tried to keep his identity in secret, but that was extremely hard because of how enormous he was. 

“Like if birdbrain knew what intimacy or privacy is.” - Bucky said with an ironic tone of voice which made Sam frown as hell again. 

“Well excuse me, but I know today's world more than you two will ever have the chance to. Don't try to make me angry, 'cause you can lose your biggest guide just like dat.” - Sam said with all serious face, but every one of them knew that he's shitting them. 

Y/N: Okay, it's here. Wish me luck, cross your fingers, do whatever the hell you want, but enjoy it.

A text came just short second before all the lights turned down and Steve curiously wiggled on his chair with an expression of a small child. And at that moment, a serious load of ladies in forties female formal clothes came out of the curtains with chairs in their hands. And even tho he couldn't see the shirt you had under your uniform, at that moment, he exactly knew which one of them is you.

[tsw-story]

Chapter 10 - Survival of the Fittest

Kevin's blade, Drodias, performed a bisection to the floating green orb, like a magic blade through magic butter. The spell fizzled into a series of gradually descending sparkles, but before he could catch a breath, another appeared. This time, he jabbed forward the sword to pierce straight through the spell, and once again, it burst apart. Sweat came down from Kevin's forehead as he continued, but above his goatee wasn't a face of despair. He was enjoying himself.

“You're pretty quick,” said Daveon as he materialized another floating ball from his palm.

“Thanks. Make the next one faster!” Kevin replied with a laugh.

“You've got it.”

The two practised and played in a field away from view of the town's citizens. Daveon came here often, and knew the place well. He assured them it was a safe location to openly use magic, as it was more than far enough away from others, and because his animal companions would warn him of incoming humans.

Lucy and Deena sat on a large boulder in the meantime, watching the two boys play as they relaxed beneath the warm sunshine. Well, the devil seemed to enjoy it, but Deena wasn't one for bright lights.

“You guys have just been exploring the area then, hm?” asked Lucy.

Deena shrugged. “Mostly. Eldrian seems to be able to handle himself, surprisingly. I'm sure he'll be fine. I hope he returns soon, though.

“Worried?”

“Bored.”

Lucy nodded. “Me too. Hey, so I heard you study demons and dark magic. Is that right? You're a cute little witch, and my dad rules the Demon World, so feel free to ask me whatever you want. I can't promise I'll be able to answer everything, though. I'm still loyal to Father.”

“I'm not that little.”

“Oh. Don't brood so much.”

Deena said nothing in response, and instead crossed her arms and watched Kevin slash through yet another conjured ball of magic.

“Sorry,” added Lucy after a moment. “We all have our reasons to act the way we do. Let me ask you a question then, Deena. Feel free to answer or not. Why do you study dark magic specifically?”

“It's what I'm interested in. I don't think that should be strange... and it runs in my family.”

“Your family?”

“Nevermind that. I don't like talking about them.”

“Strange family ties, hm? I can understand that.”

“I have a question then. How do you know Eldrian, and what do you two actually do?”

“Well, I met him a long time ago. That's a story for another time. But basically, I run a kind of organization in the Demon World that specializes in finding and returning demons that make their way to Earth. Though since we're demons too, and we don't want to be complete hypocrites, we try to get wizards to help. I admit, I didn't care about Eldrian that much at first, but he grew on me. Not only is he passionate about everything he tries to do, but he's very kind. The latter can be hard to find back home.”

“How many other wizards do you work with?”

“Hardly any, actually, but that's classified information. I'm afraid I can't tell you the details of our investigations.”

“That's fair.”

A few minutes passed quickly by. Kevin was no longer on the offensive, but was meant to stop attacks by Daveon, who wielded a blunt stick. Drodias was back inside the ring as well, and Kevin had a stick of similar size. They were sparring. However, it was obvious immediately that Daveon had little skill in the art of swordsmanship.

Lucy's gaze moved back to the shorter, pale, red-eyed girl. She had put her hair into braided pigtails that day, decorated further with a large black ribbon covered in cartoony white skulls.

“I like your hair,” the devil said.

Deena didn't turn, and her response came with a delay. “Thank you. I like yours.” she spoke quietly, while a tint of pink appeared over her nose.

“Gosh. Don't say that. I didn't even do anything with it this morning. This is just me rushing through the shower, since I slept in with so much to do. I may have had a few too many glasses of wine last night, stressing about the whole Rend thing.”

“Does the Demon World have good wine?”

“Oh hell yes.”

“There you guys are!” a voice shouted from afar.

It was Eldrian. The boy in blue came over the hills and hustled towards the group. There was a small orange fox in front, guiding his way to Daveon and Kevin, and it immediately cuddled the ankle of the handsome young druid that he served. The fox was rewarded with an ear scratch.

“You made it back!” announced Kevin with a wide smile across his face.

“I did,” Eldrian replied. “Everything is... Well, it's better than before. We did solve the mystery.”

The girls arose from the rock and made their way over, creating an audience for the returning wizard. Both the others dropped their sticks, and all eyes awaited Eldrian's tale.

“So what happened?” asked Lucy.

Eldrian caught his breath and began speaking. “It turns out Pachama was working with somebody, acting as a bridge to sneak secrets in and out of that place to someone we don't know yet. She used something called the Life Infuser to sap most of the strength from Urco and Huanca, and became a horrible monster I had to beat in a bit of a wizard battle. Thank goodness she was unstable. I think with her experience and new-found power, I would have been a goner, but she's gone now. Unfortunately. It's just the Two now leading the place. The rebuilding is still going on, but they sent me on my way. We have nothing to go on now, but it's most likely impossible for any more secrets to be snuck in and out without Pachama. I think we have some time to breathe.”

“You deserve it,” Lucy replied. “All of you head head home. We've done enough here. There's nothing else we can do until another clue appears anyway, so there's no reason to think anymore about it.”

Kevin scratched his head. “My mom is going to be worried if I don't go home soon anyway.”

“Hey,” Daveon finally spoke up. “All of this chaos, even if I wasn't fully apart of it, has been more interesting than anything else that's happened here. I love this place, but it is starting to drive me a little crazy. Can I go with you guys somehow? I don't need a house. I'd prefer not to have one. But if most of you live in the same area, I'd rather spend my time there.” He let out a nervous, quiet laugh.

“Yeah! Come to Alberta with Kevin and I,” Eldrian said with excitement. “And Deena, even. We're all kinda around there now. Why not, right? If things are getting more dangerous, we should probably unite. Wizards oughta stick together.”

“And Deena even has a really neat dungeon base for us to meet at,” Kevin chimed in.

The witch glared at him, causing a shiver to violently shake down his back. Surprisingly, however, she didn't decline. A long sigh came after a sharp inhale.

“Occasionally,” she muttered.

“I'm going back then,” Lucy said as a fiery crack opened itself behind them.

She jumped back, and disappeared into a burst of magic flames. It wasn't long before the portal closed itself, leaving behind no evidence it was ever there, besides a wafting cloud of smoke that also disappeared a moment after.

“Excuse me,” Deena said as she walked towards Kevin.

He was confused, but backed up. His movement was met with a white door behind him, surprisingly to him, causing him to jump and shift out of the way.

With no reaction, Deena approached the door and turned the knob, opening up an entrance to her house for the others to follow, presumably. She said nothing. But she did leave the door open behind her.

Daveon was the last to enter, so he closed the door and looked around himself. Being the only of them to not have stepped into Deena's house in the past, he took a moment to take it in.

“Pretty much what I expected a witch's house to look like,” he uttered quietly.

The witch made her way off, but the three boys conversed in the living room. It was the first time in awhile that they weren't either chasing a lead, or in the midst of chaos. Besides Daveon of course, who seemed to be doing nothing when they found him.

“How trustworthy truly is Deena?” the druid asked beneath his breath.

“Just because she's a witch, doesn't mean she's evil. She just has an interesting taste,” Eldrian said in response.

“How long have you known her?”

“A couple days before we met you, I think.”

“Only a couple days?”

“I don't think it's that ba—Hurk!” Eldrian clenched his stomach, but the pain faded just as fast as it initially came.

“Sorry,” called Deena's voice from the other room. “I dropped something on your voodoo doll.”

“She has voodoo dolls?” shouted Daveon is protest.

“Maybe Daveon has a point,” Kevin muttered.

Eldrian let out a sigh. “All right. We'll have a talk with her.”

“I hope you don't mind me asking, but can you open a portal to the place in Alberta you're from? This place is a little too... Well, I like trees.”

“Sure,” Eldrian said as he opened a mahogany door now present on the wall behind him. “Kevin's from there, actually. Not me. But I'll be there much more often now. It isn't like I have a proper house anyway. I do a lot of travelling.”

Daveon nodded. “Thank you. Don't let this convince you I don't like you. I'd like to spend more time with both of you.”

With that, he departed through the door. It was once again only Eldrian and Kevin. They sat on the sofa and let out lengthy noises of satisfaction to finally be some place comfortable and quiet. Eventually Deena returned.

“You two make yourself at home very quickly,” she said.

“Deena,” Eldrian began. “We've been through quite a bit in the short time since we've met. This sounds weird, but please tell me you don't mean us any actual harm. I don't know why you have voodoo dolls, or why you study dark magic, but you seem like a good person behind your scariness.”

The witch rolled her eyes. “Trust is hard to come by. Everything I do is for my own safety. But, I mean you no actual harm. Is that satisfactory?”

“Can you get rid of the dolls too?”

“I'll think about it.”

Eldrian hung his head. “Good enough, I guess.”

“You might be too reckless, Eldrian. If you're not more careful, your decisions are going to bite you on the butt. Spellbreakers are going to find you. And what are you going to do then? Wizards stand no chance against those.”

“I know. I'm sorry,” he spoke quietly. “But something similar could be said for the magic you study. It could easily bite your butt too.”

“Better than a wind spell cast at it.”

Kevin couldn't help but raise his fist to his lips, and begin to furiously snicker. He tried his hardest to hide his laughter. However, he was simply not strong enough. The laughter came.

“Okay. One time!” Eldrian said as he threw up his hands. “I made a mistake!”

Eventually Kevin settled down enough to speak. “You're both playing with fire it seems,” he said, clearing his throat of the giggles. “Please be safe. You and her, Eldrian. I like both of you. It'd suck if you blew up or whatever can go wrong with magic.”

Deena's cellphone rang. It played a song only briefly, but Eldrian swore he recognized it from a Japanese animated series he saw once. She held it to her ear and listened. Not a word came from her lips through the entire conversation. Deena only listened, and for the first time, emotions became obvious on her expression—fear and anger, it seemed.

“I didn't know she could be more pale,” whispered Eldrian.

Kevin snickered again.

Finally she hung up and slid the phone back into her pocket. Her face drooped. Whatever the call was about, it took all the joy from whatever mood she was in before.

“What's up?” Eldrian asked. “Who was it?”

“My family,” she said sharply. Her eyes were raised but they looked far past the two boys. She was lost deeply in thought.

“Bad blood?”

“I have two brothers. We don't exactly get along, but they are family. Older brothers... and they're coming to visit. For dinner. I hate dealing with family, especially family dinners.”

“I'm sorry,” Kevin spoke up. “Is there anything we can do?”

Never before did they see Deena so deeply emotive. Her eyes flickered around the room, and her mind was racing. They could nearly see the cog wheels turning. After an incredibly long minute of her pacing back and forth and nervously scratching the back of her neck, she turned to both Eldrian and Kevin with an embarrassed face. Whatever she wanted to say made her uncomfortable to the point of now being unable to look either of them in the eyes.

“Can you come to dinner with me and my brothers? I don't... I don't want to be alone.”

Eldrian stood up from the couch. He made his way towards the worried witch, and placed a gentle grip on her shoulder as he gave a look of determination.

“We'd love to,” he said. “You can count on us! What could go wrong?”

“Don't touch me.”

He retreated back his hand. “Oops. Sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”

From the back, Kevin quietly raised his hand and leaned forward to speak. The tangerine samurai looked mildly distraught.

“Eldrian. Are you deciding things for other people again?” Kevin mumbled.

“No, no,” the wizard said back. “Well, a little bit. Want to come, Kev?”

“I don't see why not. It depends when it happens. I don't want to miss any more school.”

“So who are your brothers, Deena?” Eldrian asked.

“There's two. Barston and Alumir. They're both a few years older than me, and both are talented warlocks. Their bark is definitely worse than their bite, but you still shouldn't underestimate them. Our family knows a lot about dark magic.” She paused. “And thank you.”

“Not a problem. We should get going in the meantime. Text me the details, all right?”

“Of course. Goodbye for now then.”

“Bye, Deena. Thanks for everything.

Kevin waved. “Yeah. Thanks for your help with Rend.”

Deena nodded. Both Eldrian and Kevin left through a mahogany door, back to Grand Prairie, Alberta. It soon became deathly quiet. She was used to it, however. She rarely had guests. Strangely though, it wasn't until now that she actually felt alone in her empty house. The witch made her way back to her bedroom. It was like something straight from a gothic fantasy. The colours were minimal—mostly red, black, or white—but it was small. She made her way over to a locked drawer and pulled the small magic doll threaded with a hair from Eldrian.

Her ruby gaze inspected it closely as she thought. Eventually she placed it back inside the drawer and closed it slowly. She lowered her hand, held herself up with her hands against the ledge, and let out a quiet exhale. Tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

Quickly she wiped dry her eyes and made her way over to a body-sized mirror in the corner. She straightened her hair, cleaned her self up, and stared at herself. With a deep breath, she put on her normal expression, but even more confident than usual.

She had to.

[tsw-story]

Chapter 35 - Pointy Ears

When the police car pulled up in front of the cemetery, there were already men at the scene studying the situation. It wasn't a large investigation, but tape was pulled around the entrance gates, and a couple of the men were taking notes. The door of the car pushed open, but the man who stepped out looked nothing like the rest of the police.

He had short, blonde hair, and the smoothest pale skin. He sported a dark suit, a bowler hat, and over his shoulder was a jet black umbrella. Following behind him, also from within the car, were two young woman who wrapped their eager arms around his shoulders as he gazed upon the scenario before him.

The man smiled. But it was no ordinary grin, because the teeth of an ordinary gentleman don't cause the women around them to swoon.

“Mr. Jackson,” the closest cop motioned. “I don't know what you know, but it looks like some punks might have set off firecrackers throughout the graveyard. A couple coffins were dug up though, so we're still trying to figure that out. The bodies are missing.”

In response, the dashing man rose a hand in the air. With his other, he brought the umbrella down, and wrapped his fingers around the hook to lean it like a cane.

“Please,” he finally spoke. “Call me Noah. And if you don't mind, I'd like to see it for myself.”

“All right, Noah. The women have to stay here.”

He nodded. With his free hand, he pulled the constricting arms off his body and set them aside. He smiled, and with a single look, the two ladies knew, but they were ultimately left blushing and speechless. Then, he followed the cop into the crime scene.

One of the policemen left behind whispered, “So what's with that guy?” to another.

“Don't know why we need his help either,” the other replied.

“So why's he here?”

“The chief said he had no choice. He was sent here by someone above him.”

“Above the chief?”

“Yeah. Guess this guy is a big deal. People say he sees things that everyone else misses. Maybe that's why he has his own groupies.”

“I wish I had that.”

One of the girls yelled out, “Go solve that crime, Noah~!”

The two made it to the center of the cemetery. It was quiet, despite the odd car's engine zooming by in the background, or the single shouting of one of his fan girls. Noah's eyes were oddly focused. He tipped up his cap, gazed to the sky, and let out a lengthy exhale.

“Firecrackers? Yeah. Right,” he whispered.

“What is it?” the cop asked.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

He continued on. Kneeling to the soil, he followed the trails of singed grass, foot prints, and small craters caused by peculiar impacts. He looked to the unnaturally dug up graves, and the opened but empty coffins. Finally, when he stood up straight once again, a shining and excited grin stretched up his cheeks.

“Finally,” he mumbled. “Another one.”

The cop frowned. “You going to let me in on anything?”

“There was definitely more than one person here last night. I'm afraid I can't explain further right now. I need to go, immediately. I'm going to have a lot of work on my hands here in Edmonton. More work than I've had in a long time.”

They made their way back out once again. In his short absence, the crowd had already grown exponentially. It seemed like his presence was discovered. A van from the local news team was present,  and a gentleman was present and prepared with a microphone in-hand.

Noah looked about. There were pedestrians growing around them with interests piqued. He was no stranger to this—the hum of the rolling cameras, the news anchor on the scene, the audience cheering him on. It was an immediate switch flicked in his mind. As soon as he approached the anchor, he grinned at the camera, and it was like he was born to be filmed.

“Ah. There he is now! The legend from Toronto, Noah Jackson,” said anchor.

“Hello there. Thank you, really. I appreciate that. So far, your city is beautiful,” Noah replied.

“And we're happy to have you. At least, I know I am, but some people find you to be odd and definitely eccentric. What do you have to say about that? And what are you doing here at the cemetery?”

“Well, I really don't mind people saying that. I am a bit flamboyant,” he said with a chuckle. “But what's wrong with that, right? And it seems like some hooligans vandalized the place. It's awful, but nothing special. May I?”

The man looked to Noah's hand towards his microphone. With a nod, he handed it over, and immediately, the handsome gentleman stepped up to gaze directly towards the camera.

“This is a simple message to the vandals that came here last night. I have a feeling you'll see this. I am going to find you. All of you. I'll personally bring each of you in. Won't that be so wizard?”

Taking the microphone back, the anchor laughed. “An interesting vocabulary you have, Mr. Jackson.”

“Call me Noah, and that'll be all. It's time to get back to work.”

***

Back in the basement laboratory, Alchia and Poppet remained waiting for a response from their benefactor, and in the mean time, they did as they usually do. The taller girl was nose-deep in hefty books, and the smaller one was bored and fiddling with a portable game system in the corner—something to distract her from the previous night's failure.

“Big sis?” Poppet asked.

“Yes?”

“Those two are going to pay, right?”

“Of course they are. We'll track them down as soon as possible.”

“Good. I want revenge! They saw me humiliate myself, and then they destroyed my toys.”

“We'll destroy them in return. Don't worry, Poppet. With his help, we'll have all the power we need. Can you believe it? Us running into someone like him. Luck really smiled upon us.”

A slow, almost melodic, footfall echoed over the staircase nearby. The girls turned, ready to attack, but then they saw a familiar face. Neither of them left the door unlocked, nor did they hear a doorbell ring. But he had arrived.

Alike Arlandria, the man had an unnatural grace to his appearance and demeanour, and his ears were pointed, but he was incredibly tall with long, slicked back, raven hair. The outfit he wore was bizarre to them, but the elaborate combination of red, black, and patterns of leafy vines, was of the norm to his homeland. His cold cyan gaze fell upon the two.

“Tyreth. You, uh... made it inside,” muttered Alchia.

As he reached the bottom of the steps, he turned with direct intent. The voice he spoke with was deep, monotone, and stoic.

“So there certainly are wizards in this city,” he said.

“Yeah! Meanie ones,” Poppet blurted out.

“My theories might have been correct after all. I can feel it. The Blade of Shadows is here in Edmonton somewhere. Soon, I'll finally have what's rightfully mine, and not these ridiculous humans.”

“But, we're humans,” Alchia said.

“And wizards. That places you at least some level above these people.”

“I'm glad we could help, but they got away. How is this going to get you that Blade?”

“The Blade and I are closer than you might believe. It's fine that they left, because the thing about humanity is that they're dangerously curious. I have no doubt in my mind that we'll be able to bait them out again.”

“But, won't baiting them also bait the government? They'll send spellbreakers and things.”

“Let them. Rebel wizard or official spellbreaker, we'll eliminate them all if they get in our way. Now, tell me something. It's important. Did you, or did you not, see somebody else with pointed ears?”

***

Over the landscape of white came a blinding light shimmering over winter's embrace. A chill still hung in the air, but through the tiniest slivers between the clouds came the sunlight, and beneath it, four wizards, a boy, and an elf. They were all far from civilization and wedged between a series of hills and trees, so the breeze's whistling was the only noise to greet the silent arrival of one after the other through a few portal doors.

Renatta, now wearing a black coat over her usual attire, shivered and tucked her arms beneath her armpits.

“Brr. I can not wait for winter to be over,” she mumbled.

“So, uh. This is the spot,” Daveon said.

Eldrian gave him a thumbs up. “It's perfect. I knew I could count on you to find a vacant place in the middle of nowhere.”

“It's my speciality.”

“That's my line!”

Deena cleared her throat. “I believe you wanted to introduce someone, Eldrian.”

“That's right,” Eldrian replied. “Dav, Ren, this is Arlandria. She's an elf.”

Renatta gasped. “I have only heard stories of the elves! Is it true they live in a flying city up in the sky? And it is made of solid gold? And there are all the cookies you can eat?”

The elf slowly shook her head. “Not exactly. We don't live in the sky, but we do have cookies.”

“I had a feeling you were an elf when I saw you, but I couldn't believe it. I heard stories myself,” said Daveon. “Out of all things Eldrian could bring to me, I never thought one of them would be an elf. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

Arlandria offered a short bow and a friendly face. “Thank you for being accepting. I don't want to be an intrusion.

Renatta shivered once again. “Why are we out here?”

“It was starting to feel unfair to shove everybody into Deena's house, especially now that we have so many others,” responded Eldrian. “And it's something different. Isn't it nice outside today? I mean, nice for Alberta weather in the winter time.”

“That is true,” she said with donut muffling much of her speaking. “And I have warm-up food.”

“So, let me tell you all what happened to Renatta and I,” Daveon started.

He went on about the strange girl who was controlling skeletons—how she was a wizard and the powerful attack she used against them. He told them about the dug-up graves, and how they thought she was under attack.

“So there's other wizards around here,” Deena mumbled.

“It's a big city, I guess. Maybe there's a lot of wizards and we just don't know,” said Kevin.

“I have something else to announce,” stated Eldrian. “We may have a problem.”

He slipped the phone out of his pocket and unlocked the screen. Already up was a news article with a video ready, and after holding it up for all to see, he pressed his finger down on the play button. It was Noah Jackson.

“This is a simple message to the vandals that came here last night. I have a feeling you'll see this. I am going to find you. All of you. I'll personally bring each of you in. Won't that be so wizard?” it said at the end before the focus returned to the news anchor.

Everything went quiet once more. This continued for what felt like an eternity, but finally, Daveon approached Eldrian with an apologetic expression.

“I'm so sorry.”

Eldrian placed a hand on his shoulder. “It's not your fault. I have no doubt in my mind you did exactly what you needed to do, and what you had every right to do.”

“Still...”

“Dav. Ren. It wasn't your fault. This little girl caused all of this. It's her that should be penalized. Maybe we just need to track her down. Get some answers. For all we know, she's raising more skeletons somewhere else.”

“I'll let you know if I hear anything.”

“Pardon me,” spoke Arlandria. “But if we're trying to seek things out, may I make a request?”

“Of course. Whatever you want,” Eldrian replied.

“If you ever see another elf, please let me know. Even rumours. This also goes for a special, magical weapon. It's called the Blade of Shadows.”

[tsw-story]

Chapter 28 - Party Like It’s 1499

The view itself, even though they had seen it before, was something not of this world. Or perhaps it was exactly the opposite, and that's what made it seem so pure and uplifting. When gazing off a mountain to take in the hundreds of kilometres of even taller mountains and an ocean of trees, there's something that awakens in everybody. It's the thought of what the Earth might look like if there was hardly a touch from humanity's hands. But where they stood at that moment, there were ruined walls of stone atop the plateau. They had allowed a day of rest, and then they returned to Machu Picchu.

Rend, Ron, Dylan, and Xeno were all contained in the Demon World, and they had become Lucy's problem instead. Asta fell upon her own blade as well, which finally ceased the influx of threats falling upon the group. There wasn't even a drop left of the Elixir of Strength.

There was still a bitter feeling mixed within the sweet. None of them had wanted to kill the woman behind it all, and something about her tale bothered Eldrian even more. But he knew he couldn't allow it to bring him down, especially during a time meant for celebration. Now all five stood at the entrance of the hidden Inca civilization they had met before most of what occurred.

“This place is beautiful,” whispered Renatta. “There is really a secret city here?”

Eldrian nodded. “The inside is even more stunning. Hopefully they'll let us inside now that everything's been cleaned up. They'd rather not be found out, but we did help them before. As long as they aren't upset we couldn't return the Elixir.”

Daveon was up front performing the same arcane ritual he had when they first found the entrance. Just like before, he stepped back and they waited.

“You have returned,” whispered a voice within all of their minds.

“We have,” answered Eldrian. “And we did it. Somehow, we managed to find the person behind everything, and the ones still living are being kept by Lucy herself. It was a woman named Asta Ahlgren... It's complicated, but she's gone now. And so is the rest of the Elixir. At least it can't hurt anybody else now.”

“Losing another relic. That is most unfortunate. I am, however, glad to hear of your success, Eldrian. We wished not to allow further entry into our land, but if you assure us the culprit is dealt with, you have done us yet another great deed. Come inside, and we will rest easy, together.”

As before, despite the thinness of the wall, a gateway opened on their side to stretch a passage way into somewhere else entirely. Instead of leading to the other side of the ruin, it brought them into an expansive garden with houses around them, and a towering temple up ahead. It was gorgeous, but it was also not the view that caught Eldrian's attention. He smiled when he saw Huanca and Urco waiting for them, still garbed as they normally were. The two hairless men bowed.

“Come,” said Urco as he gestured a hand forwards, and his companion did the same.

“Yes,” said Huanca. “We will celebrate proper, but first, make yourself at home within the courtyard here. The two of us will gather food and drinks, and then you can tell us all about what happened.”

“Do not forget the donuts!” shouted Renatta with a laugh.

***

It didn't take long for the entire area to reform itself from a calm paradise to a jovial festival. Finely knit blankets were spread out all around the field, and on each were various foods. There was a bonfire in the center, and the Inca people were dancing. It was something to behold for the group after all of the gloom and chaos they had suffered through for several days straight.

Amidst the festivities were the five accompanied by Huanca and Urco. Daveon and Renatta danced to the side, while the remainder sat and munched on local cuisine such a duck meat, quinoa, pineapples, and more.

“She distributed the Elixir to regular men with a vendetta against you, in hopes that they would take you out?” asked Huanca.

Eldrian nodded. “Basically. Rend was part of that. It seemed like she just maintained as many connections as she could that might have helped her remove wizards entirely.”

“An impossible goal anyway. There will always be wizards.”

“Yeah. Some people's hatred just runs too deep for things like that to matter, I guess.”

“Allow me to formally apologize for any hostilities from us towards you and your friends. You are a great wizard, Eldrian, and you are all brave and noble to have gone out of your way to investigate something so dangerous.”

“I just wanted to help. And I admit that I can't help myself when something so exciting comes up. I won't ever be called an archmage if I don't push myself. If the opposite is true, I wouldn't wanna be one. I like having fun with magic.”

Huanca chuckled. “So young. All of you. While we don't necessarily agree with using magic so liberally, I appreciate your persistence. Just be careful, Eldrian. We do not live in a world where it is safe to be overly careless. But where are my manners? You saved lives.”

“It could be possible that he is in the right after all,” joked Urco.

“Perhaps. We have not changed in countless years. But as I said, the world is not ready for anything but.” The elder's eyes turned to the two dancing beside them. “So, who is the young lady? I do believe she was not here the first time you all arrived in Peru.”

Ceasing her hot steps, the young lady lowered herself into a swift cross-legged sit. Wiping her forehead, she lifted up her glass of water and took a long gulp.

“I am Renatta. A pleasure to meet you,” she said.

“How polite. And how did you become involved in all of this?”

“I tried to assassinate them!”

“I see.”

“Uh. She was being controlled,” Eldrian butted in. “She's better now.”

“You know,” Deena started, “A group of wizards of this size working together is incredibly rare. At least, outside of a hidden city like this one. I've never heard of something like this, even from my brothers. This is a dangerous responsibility.”

“What do you mean?” Eldrian asked.

“Don't ask like you don't know. Wizards stay mostly on their own to avoid attention. Not only are there four of them in one place whenever we're together, but we've fought monsters and more out in the open. Do you see what I mean now? We might be able to celebrate today, but they're going to start investigating Grand Praire. There's no way nothing at all was heard.”

“Do you have a suggestion?”

“The safest thing to do would be to split apart now that the problem is solved.”

“Deena...”

“Think realistically, Eldrian. Staying together where we do would only result in the inevitable attention of more spellbreakers. You two barely handled one, and she was strangely different. The only other option would be to keep moving. Like you probably did before. Am I wrong?”

“I did move from place to place a lot more before I met back up with Kevin.”

A long pause fell over them. They had only known each other for a short time, but somehow, it felt like they had been friends for much longer than that. None of them truly wanted to go their separate ways. That's why, after a moment, it was actually Deena herself who spoke up.

“Or, the leader of that group just has to be more responsible. Someone brave and passionate to be in charge—keep them together—and perhaps move elsewhere in the process. At least out of the city.”

“Are you talking about me?” asked Eldrian.

“No. I was just making a suggestion. You can assume it to be yourself if that makes you feel better.”

“Of course she was talking about you!” shouted Kevin. “That sounds great. A party, led by the archmage Eldrian. We could even get our own place. I've been wanting to move out really badly. Plus, Daveon just goes out to sleep in the woods, so it doesn't really matter where we go.”

“It's true,” shrugged the druid.

“A fresh start,” Kevin added. “Since we aren't fighting any kind of threat right now, we can just be regular friends. Hang out. Right? And if something comes up, we're all united together to deal with it. A spellbreaker can't deal with all of us at once. I think.”

Urco cleared his throat. “As long as you don't come here to hide. We'd rather not be found.”

“Don't worry,” said Eldrian. “We have Deena's house to hide in.”

The witch gave the expression of a corpse.

“I'm right in the middle of a semester, but I'll figure it out,” spoke Kevin.

“This sounds like the perfect opportunity for this,” said Urco as he reached for something in his basket.

He removed a pristine glass bottle filled with a golden liquid. The cork popped off, as if by magic, because it was, and he began to fill a series of tall glasses halfway to the top. They floated over to each of them.

“This wine is something I have been saving for a special occasion,” he added. “Let us make a toast!”

Edrian stood, pinching the neck of the glass between his fingers as he held the glass within his cupped palm. Each of his friends rose up as well and joined him.

“To the next chapter of our lives,” he said. “And to those who fell on the way. This one is for you as well, Asta Ahlgren. May you rest in peace.”

“But she tried to kill us,” whispered Deena.

“To Asta!” Kevin joined.

“To Asta,” repeated Daveon.

Deena shrugged, and in the end, all of them clinked their glasses together and took a drink.

Suddenly, Kevin announced, “Wait a minute. Oh no! We have no money to move out!”

“Crap!” yelled Eldrian. “I forgot people need money!”

Huanco let out a deep, warm laughter. “Perhaps I have found exactly what I can do to reward you all for what you have done for us. We have little need for currency here in our city. I will return momentarily.”

Off he went towards the main temple. The rest conversed. They joked, laughed, and tried their best to loosen the knots in their muscles from combined stress and literal injury. Eventually he did return, and in one hand he held a staff, and in the other, a bag.

Firstly, he opened the bag.

It revealed a stack of shimmering golden ingots. Their eyes widened at the majesty.

“Ancient gold,” Huanca said. “Of my people. We have it now only has a reminder, as we have all the jewellery we need, and rarely trade outside of our own city. Take it. Please.”

“Don't mind if I do!” Eldrian uttered excitedly. “Thank you so much. This is perfect.”

“And one more thing. Take this, Eldrian. The Staff of Lightning. It is from my own personal collection, but I have little need to use it any more. It empowers magic related to electricity, and even makes those types of spells quicker to cast.”

He held forward the dark wood staff trimmed with silver and gold. Jagged motifs decorated the shaft, and it topped with something similar to a bolt of lightning. Eldrian took it with an expression of absolute joy on his face.

“Just in case you face even scarier threats on your journey,” Huanca stated.

“And Lucy let me keep this,” Kevin spoke as he held up his left hand.

Around one of his fingers was a silver band—Asta's magic shield. Now he had both a shield and sword at his command.

“Looks like we're more than ready to tackle the future,” said Daveon.

The wizard gripped the staff like a walking stick and brought his gaze between each of his companions. He had met wizards in his past, but this was something else entirely. Never did he think he'd be able to reveal himself to Kevin, nor that he'd meet wizard's he'd stay with. It was almost like the world he dreamed about.

“What do you think?” Kevin asked. “Seems a little scary, but exciting too. I can't wait to learn even more about all this magic stuff. And my life won't feel so boring anymore.”

Eldrian smirked. “Sounds pretty wizard to me.”

That day truly ended the tale of the Elixir of Strength's chaos by the hands of Asta Ahlgren. That may have sounded like the bulk of their adventure, but that wouldn't be remotely close, for that conflict was only the very beginning of a much longer, grander journey—one with gigantic demons, powerful wizards, and the looming threat of governmental forces wishing to stop them. There are no limitations to the fantastical extent of situations the group may face, just as there are no limitations to imagination itself. Some conflicts take long periods of time such as the that just concluded, while some are short and sweet, but if a wizard is involved, they'll always be magical—and unnecessarily flashy.

[tsw-story]

Chapter 64 - Power Overwhelming

Five rumps were resting upon furnishings in Deena's living room. They were far from relaxed, no matter how comfortable the sofa was, because it was two twenty according to the clock that echoed with the clicking sound of a second hand. Not knowing was almost worse than a loss—how powerful was the Ley Point, would Eldrian be able to stop Tyreth from stealing it, what was happening now?

Kevin thrust up from his seat. “I can't stand it! Why didn't we go too?”

“I understand, though some battles do need finesse,” Daveon responded, and readjusted his cap. “Remember what we talked about weeks ago. It's dangerous enough that this many wizards are in cahoots, so the last thing we need to do is charge into another country as an army. Next time, Kevin. Next time there's a big demon stomping through the land, we'll fight it together.”

He cursed beneath his breath. His fingers toyed with the band around his wrist, and he tapped his toe in painful anticipation, but he knew that it wouldn't make the clock move faster. It was inching closer to the time the Ley Point would apparently make its appearance.

“Kevin,” spoke the calm voice of Arlandria.

Was she truly calm? Kevin eyed her over, and he thought not. It was simply how elves sounded when they talked, despite the scenario. Perhaps that's why Tyreth was so intimidating.

“You're sweet for worrying about him. But that also means you have to trust him.”

Kevin shook his head. “I know,” he muttered beneath his breath, and then he maneuvers himself back down to sit uncomfortably on the couch. “Thank you. I do know that.”

“I trust him!” Renatta burst out. “He did not die that time I tried to kill him, so I think he is quite talented at living.”

“Though it's weird to say it like that,” Kevin replied with a chuckle.

Deena wasn't occupying the conversation in the slightest. She had a hefty tome, the Nekonomicon, resting over her lap as she sat alone on a seat beside the rest. Her eyes never left the pages. The way she sat back, much of her face was covered as well. None of them were given the chance to read her.

“It's time,” spoke Arlandria. “Two twenty-two. The Ley Point is here.”

***

Eldrian had no comprehension of where he was—what anything was. There were only flashing colours in every direction he turned. His feet were touching nothing, yet he gave no effort to fly, and all of his exhaustion and pain was nonexistent. He felt no hunger, thirst, or sadness. He felt very little, actually, almost like his mind and body were numb.

The prismatic light around him was blinding. At least, he figured it would be, but he had no need to avert his eyes. He stared in awe at the beautiful display, but it wasn't long before he felt its effects.

The power. The unbelievable power. It was far too much for his small body to contain, and he began to feel the sensation of a pressurized bottle ready to shatter in the freezer—one someone filled too full with water before placing it inside. He felt like he could destroy mountains, like an atomic bomb was within his chest, waiting to free itself, though he also knew he couldn't let that happen.

If he unleashed all the power of the Ley Point, he could kill the others that were there, and maybe more. He might eliminate a nearby town, or even worse. He had no idea the strength of this energy.

Sandoval squinted open his eyes and gazed both in terror and magnificence at the glory of the light that had appeared before them. It was a sphere of rainbow up in the sky. Eldrian was nowhere to be seen, but the rest were forced against the ground by this sun's intense aura.

“ Dios Ojo,” he uttered. “It's gorgeous.”

“God damn!” shouted Whitfield.

“If that boy doesn't unleash that power, it will destroy him.”

“So what if he does?”

“Then we're all dead, I'm afraid. No spellbreaker can stop this.”

“What about that other wizard? He can open a portal—Damn! He's gone. The little snake slipped away when we weren't looking, didn't he? Classic Canadian.”

Tyreth's blood vessels were near bursting. He grit his teeth, and as he lay on his back, he stared at the massive ball of power swirling in the sky. It was supposed to be his, and worst of all, the person inside of it was a human.

His arms trembled. His breathing was rapid. Finally, he forced his body up into the air, forcing the thick air aside with a ward emitting from both of his palms. The focus required caused him to scream out like a feral animal, and given the fury in his eyes, he wasn't far off.

“This isn't over!” he yelled. “You're not stopping me now. I got my grandfather's sword. There's other artifacts out there just waiting to be taken, and I'll be damned if I let you take what's mine!”

Eldrian began to panic. He had no idea what was happening on the other side. The Ley Point's energy was welling up inside of him, trying to find its escape, most certainly in the means of mass destruction.

“This is too much,” he said aloud. “What do I do? This is far too much! Tyreth doesn't have it, but now that I do, what now?”

A noise of whirling winds increased steadily in volume, even if the air seemed still within his sphere. It grew along with the rising levels of power, and from the outside, light shot out the sides like crackling bolts of lightning to strike various parts of the soil.

He tried to steady his breathing. “No. This is magic. I'm a wizard. I write reality with my mind. No, my imagination. All I need to do is concentrate. If I can't overcome this, then I'll never be able to call myself something like an archmage.”

Eldrian took a few deep breaths. “If anyone's listening, I don't usually talk to myself,” he whispered, and exhaled deeply.

He needed to direct the power—his focus cut off. There was no longer a struggle against the power, for in that moment, he was one with magic. He knew what he needed to do, even if it wouldn't be a smooth ride. Eldrian the wizard seized control of the Ley Point's energy and moved it like a puppet—his brain pumping, and now actually aching despite what was happening before.

As he forced the storm from his body, there was still some resistance, but he tore it like a bandaid from himself. Though things were even stranger now. He saw before himself a shadow, and it was clearly his own, which departed forwards, like his vision was struggling to comprehend the anomaly.

It happened quickly for those waiting outside. Suddenly, the entire landscape was bathed in colours, like a tsunami of paint, and a beam of outstanding strength fired straight up into the sky. It parted the clouds above them. Tyreth, however, was being enveloped by bands of light. He struggled against him to no avail, and he felt himself being pulled away not to a different location here, but a different world entirely.

His body started to shimmer. Then, he vanished away, cursing Eldrian in his native tongue one more time. It all began to fade shortly after, leaving behind only a swirl in the sky, and Eldrian was hovering several meters above them.

Eldrian descended slowly into a cloud of dust a distance away. The rest groaned and stood, and not only were they still alive, but they felt better. It was like their injuries had subsided. Sandoval gave Whitfield a nasty look, but it was only them remaining now.

That's what they thought. Two figures stood ahead, and it was a man and woman. They appeared lost and confused. The last thing they remembered was the black blade of Tyreth, cutting them open on their date.

“Are those two them corpses?” Whitfield asked.

“Yes. I believe there were two deceased folks here from the beginning.”

“Where's that kid that did all that?”

“I think he's gone. I can't see him anywhere.”

***

“Eldrian!” screamed Kevin as his best friend stumped through the magic door.

He embraced him, and to their surprise, not a scratch was on his body. No arms were missing. He wasn't bleeding out. Even his clothes were intact. He was still garbed in his costume, though his hood was pulled down to reveal his exhausted face.

“What happened?” Arlandria asked.

Eldrian fell into leaning against the back of the nearest chair. “Nobody got the Ley Point. I think Tyreth is back in the Elf World. That's where I was trying to send him, anyway. And nobody saw my face.”

Daveon sighed and leaned back on his seat. “Thank goodness.”

“Now I just feel like I've been torn in half. I think I need a nap.”

***

Various cells lined a polished marble hall. Each of them was blocked by a powerful ward that was nearly invisible to the eye, even to an elf. It was like glass one could speak through, yet had no hope of ever piercing. This is where those went that disobeyed the law of the land. Murderers, thieves. They existed here, even in Heaven.

Yaelos rest his hand on the outside of the cell wall. It felt cold.

“So, how did it happen?” he asked.

The black-haired man was a mess. He sat on the floor against the wall, despite there being a bench a couple meters away. His calm demeanour fell flat, and his hair, despite seeming to be perfect always, was a bird's nest of loose strands and knots. He stared a piercing, icy glare from a single, uncovered eye through his bangs.

“He broke you,” Yaelos said. “Didn't he?”

“No. I broke a long time ago.”

Yaelos lowered his head, and the two remained in silence for an incredibly long time. The guards wondered why he stayed if he wasn't going to speak, but he remained regardless. There was finally a time for him to depart, and he did so without saying a word.

Tyreth spoke instead. “Earth does have lakes like that one.”

He went home, knowing he may never see that man again. But then he remembered that he lost his friend far before all of this. When he arrived, he saw the only thing he needed to see—the only smile that mattered anymore. Eldrian stood there with Arlandria beside him. The wizard fulfilled his promise, just like he said he would. He thought to himself then, that humans truly are fascinating.

[tsw-story]

Chapter 43 - Secrets

Eldrian's bleeding, trembling hand continued to grip onto the blade of the sword as he struggled to pull himself to his feet, and when he saw that Daveon was too shocked to drive the weapon forward once more, he released his grip, and slowly lowered it to his side. The druid, once mentally recovered, handed Drodias back over to Kevin and took a step back.

“What do you mean you're not controlling him?” uttered Daveon.

“Don't kill her. Wait,” Eldrian said with a groan.

Arlandria hustled over to the injured wizard and consoled him. She looked to his wounds, and with her hands at the ready, she began her healing ritual. A soothing light started the process of closing the gashing in his flesh, and for that, he gave her a thankful albeit exhausted smile.

“What do you mean, don't kill her? She's a demon. Isn't that what you came here to do? And she tried to control your mind,” Daveon barked.

Eldrian nodded. “I know, but—“

“And where are the home owners?”

“She didn't kill anyone. Her magic might have been controlling me, and for that, I'm incredibly angry,” he said as he looked to Zayna. She lowered her head—ashamed. “But I heard everything she said. Her whole story. She doesn't want to harm anybody. She just wants to live peacefully here on Earth. She was following a dream. This time, there was no malice behind it.”

“But that's the entire point of finding these demons. They aren't supposed to live on Earth.”

“That's true. But that doesn't mean she should be gutted like a fish. That's too far. She didn't do anything to deserve death, but you're right about one thing. We need to tell Lucy we found the run-away.”

Zayna nodded her head. “I understand.”

“I'll make sure to tell Lucy the truth. You shouldn't be harshly punished for not harming anyone, but you oughta go back to the Demon World. They'll just send more hunters after you otherwise,” Eldrian said.

With Arlandria's magic as completed as it could be, she helped Eldrian steady himself, and he stretched open his previously injured hand. It hardly hurt now.

“So then, if we're all trusting each other now, who summoned you?” Daveon asked. “Who helped you get to Earth? We deserve to know that much.”

“I really shouldn't say,” replied the demon.

“You should,” Eldrian said. “To make up for what you did. I don't like being mind controlled.”

With a timid sigh, the succubus fiddled with her fingers in deep thought. Her eyes peered up at the crowd still cornering her near the wall, but she finally took a deep breath and began to answer their question.

“It's a bit of a long story, but the one who got me to Earth was... Deena.”

“What?” shouted every other one in the room nearly in unison.

Daveon furled his brow. “She's gone too far now. Voodoo, dark magic, but now summoning actual demons to our world? This is the work of the nastiest kind of witch. Arlandria. Are you sure you didn't notice her doing anything?”

The elf shook her head. “No. And since she disappeared, I haven't been able to go back to her home. I went to Eldrian and Kevin's house as a place to stay for the time being.”

“She wouldn't betray us. There must be a story,” Eldrian said.

“You keep defending her, but she keeps giving us more reasons to distrust her,” Daveon stated. “And now she could be anywhere.”

“But she's still our friend. We need to give her the benefit of the doubt.”

Daveon tugged on the brim of his toque. He lowered his head, and let out a deep exhale before looking to Eldrian once more.

“I'll let you do what you need to do with the demon. I need some time to meditate,” he muttered as he moved to the exit, and proceeded to disappear from view.

The group stood silent for a time. But, there was work that needed to be done. Eldrian pulled out his phone and called for Lucy, one of Satan's daughters, to come retrieve the demon and bring her back home. He told her everything, but too much was on Eldrian's mind for small-talk. Even Arlandria knew to leave him to his own thoughts.

***

A robed, hooded figure made its way down the dark streets of Edmonton city. They were further masked by a downpour of rain that had only began a few moments prior, which also melted much of the snow that previously lined the asphalt. The roads were now as black as the void, and hardly a soul was amongst them.

The figure dipped away into an alley, disappearing like a shadow. It approached what appeared to be an ordinary wall, it did something with its hands among the stone to cause a door to magically spread open. The knob turned, and the figure disappeared inside, with the door vanishing behind it.

Inside was the Bliss Abyss. The ram-like barkeep, Pil, still ran the show behind the counter. There were several bizarre figures, from wizards to demons, but the robed figure made its way straight to the counter. The robe itself was drenched.

“Ahoy, friend,” Pill said with a wave. “Welcome to the Bliss Abyss. Looks like it was really coming down from wherever you came from. Stirling? It rains a lot there. It's none of my business though. What can I get you?”

She pulled the hood down from her head. Beautiful red locks of hair fell free, with much of it tied back into a ponytail. Her skin was dark, and her eyes were a deep blue. It was Renatta.

“I am just waiting for someone,” she said. “But can I have a drink of water?”

“Of course. Coming right up.”

Pil retrieved a glass, and from the tap he filled it to the brim with ice cold water. He slid it to her with skillful speed.

“Thank you,” she said before taking a sip.

“No problem. Let me know if you need anything else.”

He continued on to tend to the rest of the customers, leaving her alone to stare towards the ripples in her drink. She sighed. It wasn't clear when the person would actually arrive, but this was the place she was supposed to wait—so she did. From her pouch she pulled a donut and began to munch.

It wasn't long before another figure joined the seat beside her. He had well-kept brown hair, tied back, and a slim but lengthy beard. His eyes were a radiant yellow, and much like her, he had a darker tone of skin. He straightened his silken purple outfit before resting himself down.

“Hello, señorita,” he said in an accent that was obvious Spanish. “Why is a beautiful young flower sitting all by her lonesome?”

“Just waiting for someone. Who are you?”

“Ah. My name is Nazario Cardozo. You see, I have a natural affinity with divinity. I am able to read one's fortune with impeccable accuracy. I normally charge for the act, but for you, perhaps I could make an exception.”

She gasped. “Really? You can read minds?”

“But of course. Give me your hand, and I will prove it.”

Like an excited child, she offered her palm. He snatched it up quickly and looked deep into her eyes. He smiled.

“Your gaze. It sparkles so,” he whispered.

“Is that my fortune?”

“No, no. Just an observation.”

“Will I be rich?”

“Of course, my darling. I see you, side-by-side with a handsome and wealthy—“

“And all the food I can eat, right?”

“Yes. And also, a man who—“

“A baker?”

“Please calm down, señorita. It is difficult to focus with you speaking so much. You should keep with being a silent beauty. Now, allow me to gaze upon your silky hand. Yes. I can see it now. You, and a man in all purple, happy together forever. Yes. True love. That is your future, señorita.”

“I do not know anyone who wears purple... I know someone who wears blue. Blue is close to purple!”

“Wait. Aha. I think you may be confused.”

A tap was felt on Nazario's shoulder.

“Huh?” he said as he turned his head, but then his eyes widened.

A tall, toned, dark-skinned woman grabbed him by his throat and lifted him up from his seat. She had red hair down past her shoulders, and what she wore wasn't unlike Renatta's preferred garb—vibrant, red, traditional Indian silks. This woman's was much more decorated. Nazario was thrown to the floor like a bag of potatoes.

From the ground, he looked up at the stranger. She had a circular blade on one side, and a shimmering scimitar sheathed on her other. Her bust held up a thick gold necklace, and hoops to match hung from her ears.

“How rude!” Nazario shouted as he stood up and dusted himself off. “You're... Ah. Very tall. You know, I really should be going. There is much to do. Goodbye now!”

He sprinted to the door and disappeared in nearly an instant.

“Mom!” Renatta shouted as she threw herself into the taller woman, though now she spoke completely in Indian. It was likely that not a person in the room understood the two speaking, but they still kept their voices down.

“My sweet Renatta,” she said as she guided the girl to an empty corner table. “Let's sit. We have much to discuss.”

The two of them sat, both Renatta and her mother. The older one looked to Renatta with a frown.

“You're soaking wet,” she said.

“I know. It's all right though. I'm just glad to see you again.”

“What of the news?”

“News?”

“The reason you wanted to speak with me.”

“Oh! Yes. I think I finally did it, mom. I found him. A couple days ago, I managed to find the last of his associates, and there I found the location of him. The man who killed dad.”

“So you know what to do then, Renatta.”

“Of course I do. I'll find him, and finally get revenge.”

“That's my child. This is what you've trained for. Finally, all this time you've been spending in Canada will pay off, and you can come home. Take his life, and our family can finally be at peace.”

Renatta nodded her head, but it was always obvious when she was thinking of other things. Her face read like a novel, and her eyes were lost once more in the glass of water she was nursing. A lot had happened since her arrival in Canada.

“Something troubles you,” her mother spoke.

“No. It's nothing.”

“It's fine to be nervous, at least for now. But when you finally face the man, you must do so with your nerves intact. You'll strike him down in the name of our family.”

“Yes, mom. You're right.”

“Now come here, sweetie. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The two of them embraced. They spent some time conversing in the Bliss Abyss, but soon, it was time for action. Renatta put back up her hood, and she left back into the streets of Edmonton.

[tsw-story]

Chapter 38 - How the Elf Stole Christmas

A bead of sweat stopped at Kevin's right brow. In that moment, he was unable to move a single part of his body. He just stood there, staring off into space, with the phone gripped in his hand. Was this what it was like when Ron kidnapped him a few weeks back? This was different. Kevin knew he was no wizard, and this time, it was Eldrian in danger.

“We need to do something,” muttered Kevin.

Arlandria pursed her lips. “I agree, but Tyreth is incredibly dangerous.”

“So how do you know this guy?”

“He's from my world.”

“An elf?”

She nodded. “And he's the reason I'm on Earth to begin with. He failed to kill me.”

“Why is he trying to kill you?” Kevin gasped, nearly dropping his phone to the ground.

“He didn't agree with much of our people. I... didn't listen to my father, and I ended up nearly perishing because of it. I should have left things alone. I realize that now. When he tried to kill me, I had hoped to disappear, and eventually make my way back home, but Tyreth meant to come here all along. His pride for our people has driven him mad.”

“We need to know what to expect. You're our resident elf expert, so whatever you can tell me, please do,” Kevin said. “Because we need a plan, and we need it fast. And you know what? I'm going to call everybody. Deena, Daveon, Renatta. I'm going to contact them while you tell me everything, because this is what Eldrian would do!”

Arlandria slouched in her seat. Her fingers played off one another over her lap, and after a deeply long exhale, she nodded her head in agreement. As if it physically pained her, she brought a direct glance to Kevin and opened her lips to begin a tale.

***

I was a little girl when my mother passed away, so for much of my life, it was my father and I that supported one another. He worked as a physician, and still does in fact, so he taught me what he knew to carry on the family's talents. But that's not a story we have time to tell right now. You want to know about Tyreth, and why he tried to slay me.

The day, I remember, was even more beautiful than usual. The Silver Stars were out and bright, that is our world's version of your Sun, and it caused the marble and golden structures to sparkle and glow. The grass was lush and the sky was a healthy violet. I had just finished being lectured by my father, as I was insistent on wishing to do more than remain most often sealed away in our home. I understand know that he only cared for my safety.

Everybody knows Tyreth. He would, and perhaps still does, go on about the strength of elves and their rightful place is the universe, and the fact that a few of our artifacts have made their way to Earth infuriates him. He wanted nothing more than to go there and force them back, but we have strict rules about interfering with other worlds. Hardly an elf cares, unlike demons, but the ones that do are kept away from Earth for the well-being of our people. We don't bother others, we aren't bothered ourselves.

But Tyreth is a radical. He found a way out. I don't know how, but he set up a gateway to Earth in his home, and worst of all, I discovered it. I was nosey, and suspicious of him, and it got the best of me. That's not to mention how horrible of a man he was to my father, but that's a story for another time, perhaps after we rescue Eldrian.

That day, I saw strange figures in his home, and heard voices. I hardly remember more than simply seeing that they clearly weren't elves.

I wasn't sure what to do, so I slouched to the ground and rest my back against the wall beneath the window. I hesitated for some time, and in my inexperience, I didn't even hear the window open up. Hands reached down and grabbed me by my neck and shoulders, and before I knew it, I was heaved through and thrown to the ground.

“Arlandria,” he said to me. “Your father pains me enough, but now you? Why waste such a beautiful face? You're an elf. I'm an elf. Don't you think we should be on the same side?”

“Who were those people?” I asked.

“Tools, to help me find what I seek. What does it matter? They're not elves. Demons, humans, whatever. They're all here to help us claim what we deserve, Arlandria.”

“Demons too?”

“All tools. You're too much like your father.”

I struggled to pull myself to my knees, and I remember that the sight of it immediately filled me with unease. Like I said before, elves aren't wizards. We can't teleport about or open portals, but across the room, hidden away from any windows, was a golden gate pulsing with a green vortex of energy. It was true. He did find a way out, and he was planning something. I had no proof it was for evil, even if the idea itself was illegal, but I knew I needed to tell somebody.

“And I'm afraid I can't let you go running home to dad,” Tyreth said with a scowl. “He'll tell everyone. I know you will, and I know he will. This is no Blade of Shadows, but I suppose it'll have to do. Sorry, Arlandria. I hate when I have to yank a beautiful rose from the bush.”

From a wall mount, he pulled a rapier. I instinctively protected myself with a barrier, just in time to push back the point moments before stabbing through my forehead. I stumbled back and towards the portal.

“Damn it. Get back here!” he snarled.

“Please,” I said. “I won't say anything. I promise. Don't hurt me or my father.”

“Your father I have no business with, so far, but you? I just went over this. You know what they'll do if they find out!” he shouted as he jabbed forwards again.

The struggle is a blur in my mind. I remember dodging, but also the fabric of my clothing being torn by his razor-sharp blade. I think he drew blood. I since healed any wounds caused by his sword, but I nearly perished by what happened next. I didn't do it on purpose, whether he believes I did or not, but I caused him to accidentally stab his own gateway. It flickered a prism of colours. Though he was furious, it did me little good. He slammed me hard and I fell into the broken portal in an explosion of light.

It didn't take me where it was meant to, so he assumed I was torn apart by the magic. In reality, it shrouded me in a magical mist and I was suddenly flying through the sky. I would have died if not for my barrier as well as the strange repercussions of the broken magic.

And that's when I met Eldrian.

***

Eldrian's eyes took a moment to readjust when the bag was yanked up from his head. His wrists were both bound by the pair of anti-magic cuffs behind the back of a chair, and around him appeared to be a basement. Tables were covered in vials of various liquids, papers, and it was a general mess. It didn't suit his captor at all. The elf was calm and calculated.

He was still in his Dark Mage garb, but the hood had been long since pulled back. With a tug, he tried to free his hands, but the solid steel had no chance of breaking under his meager strength.

“It's no use panicking,” Tyreth muttered. “You won't break out of those. I procured those long ago from people in your world that hunt wizards for a living. Funny, that your world is so chaotic that you hunt your own people. Is magic that terrifying?”

“I don't want that either. You realize that, right?” replied Eldrian.

“Yes, but you're hardly the majority. Perhaps Earth isn't so different than the Demon World. Broken views on order.”

“You're not entirely wrong.”

“But I'm afraid it doesn't matter if you agree or not. I'm not here to take over the world. I'm just a single man. No, I'm here to claim whats ours. Then maybe I won't be a single man any longer.”

“Have you tried Tinder?”

“I don't know what it is that you speak of, but I grow tired of your voice. Speak no more unless you're spoken to. Now, tell me if you know anything about the Blade of Shadows, the first artifact from the Elf World you humans stole. And this one was crafted by my grandfather.”

“Never heard of it.”

The burning smack of the elven man's palm against Eldrian's cheek echoed off the basement walls. Eldrian cried out, not at all expecting the strike. It left a glowing red mark over the side of his face.

“Don't lie to me,” Tyreth growled, leaning in to stare Eldrian directly in the eyes. “You and your friends may know. They may not. But if there's anything I can do to help my odds, it's being able to see through your pathetic lies. You know something. At the very least, you've heard of it.”

“How do you even know it's around Edmonton?”

“I have an innate connection to the blade. I have a feeling when I'm within a few kilometres.”

“It's good to know even the Elf World uses the metric system.”

Again, he smacked the wizard across the face. “I asked for silence! Answer my questions, and nothing more, Eldrian. You're lucky that I respect wizards over other humans, or I'd cut off your fingers, one by one. Or maybe pierce out one of your eyes.”

Saying nothing this time, Eldrian clenched his teeth and stared up at his captor.

“Good,” Tyreth said. “And my plan is nearly complete. I'll beat the answers out of you, and meanwhile, my tools will deal with your friends. You can't have too many.”

“I have plenty... and you made a mistake texting the coordinates to them. Now they'll all show up and take you down.”

The elf chuckled, perhaps for the first time ever. “Oh. You don't understand at all. I didn't give them the coordinates to this place. I sent them somewhere else completely. A trap.”

“Wait, what? No! I'll get out of here, and wipe that ugly smile off your face.”

From one of the nearby tables, the elf lifted up a knife. He touched his finger to the blade, and nodded in acceptance to its quality. He stepped slowly back to Eldrian, and dragged the back, blunt edge of the knife over the wizard's shoulder.

“You know what? I think, while we're here, I'll just forget that you're a wizard,” Tyreth whispered.

***

Deena, Daveon, and Renatta looked around curiously in the living room. Kevin, who seemed to be nearly hyperventilating, stood before them like a nervous child at a school play. He had barely told them anything in his frantic messaging other than to come immediately, assuring it was an emergency. He was thankful they all showed, but also unsure of what to do next.

“Sorry for rushing everyone here,” Kevin mumbled.

“Hey, it's fine,” said Daveon. “What is it? You sounded terrified over the phone.”

“It's Eldrian... He was kidnapped by Arlandria's evil elven arch nemesis and taken away to some place he gave us the coordinates of over text message and now we need to save him right away or Tyreth will kill him.”

The room went silent for a minute. Kevin looked around, and he saw the wide eyes and surprised faces of the others around him.

“Well, that's not what I expected,” Daveon replied.

“Oh no!” shouted Renatta. “We have to go save him right away! Finally, I can make it up to him for cutting him and trying to kill him.”

“But what's the plan? Go in magic-a-blazing?” asked Daveon.

Kevin shrugged. “I guess so. I don't know what else to do, and we don't have much time. It isn't far from here. It's outside the city, but we can get there in just under an hour of we hurry. We'll figure it out as we go!”

Not wanting to risk passing over that hour, the group agreed, and sprinted off towards the destination presented via text message. It led them through the city streets, and eventually outside the southern edge into the wilderness—the flat, barren, snowy wilderness of Alberta in December.

It took almost the entire hour to make their way to the location. They didn't know what to expect. Tyreth was an elf, so he had a few natural abilities, but he wasn't a wizard, so they had the numbers on their side. And if they could free Eldrian, they'd have that as well.

Kevin looked to them as they ran, panting, and said, “I wish we had more time!”

Daveon grunted. “Time's not on our side. We just need to make sure Eldrian doesn't get hurt.”

They arrived to see two impatient girls waiting. It was Alchia and Poppet. The taller girl was sitting in the snow, and leaning against her shoulder was the pale one typing on her phone. Upon seeing the arrivals, they stood.

“You!” shouted Daveon. “The skeleton girl!”

Poppet giggled. “That's me. We already beat your friend, so I guess you figured you needed the numbers.”

“Look at them all,” Alchia said. “Four more wizards?”

“Not exactly,” muttered Kevin.

Alchia laughed. “What's that? You're not even all wizards? This is going to be easy. Just you all wait and see what we have planned. Our mutual friend provided all the support we need. Now, take this, you weirdos! My Acid Arrow!”

Whipping about her hands in front of her, she manifested a body-sized arrow made entirely of a slimy green substance. It fired from her palms towards the group.