#Firm Stallion Exercise

[forblogmostly]

Outcome of Vishal Fabrics' Fund Raising Committee Meeting on September 12, 2024

On September 12, 2024, Vishal Fabrics Limited conducted a significant meeting of its Fund Raising Committee, a key step in the company’s efforts to strengthen its financial position. The meeting, which took place at the company’s corporate headquarters in Ahmedabad, marked an important milestone in the firm's ongoing fundraising initiatives. The board gathered to deliberate and finalize a crucial decision regarding the issuance and allotment of Compulsorily Convertible Equity Warrants to non-promoter public entities.

The meeting began at 1:00 PM and concluded within half an hour, with the board considering various financial options to support the company’s growth. During the discussions, the primary agenda was centered on the approval of the allotment of Compulsorily Convertible Equity Warrants on a preferential basis, specifically to entities classified under the “Non-promoter, Public Category.” This decision followed the approvals received during the 39th Annual General Meeting held on August 27, 2024, where the members passed a Special Resolution supporting the issuance. Additionally, on August 29, 2024, the company secured an 'In-Principle Approval' from BSE Limited, allowing the fundraising committee to move forward with the allotment process.

The Fund Raising Committee approved the issuance of 50 million Compulsorily Convertible Equity Warrants to various non-promoter public entities. These warrants come with the option for the holders to convert them into one equity share of the company, with each share having a face value of Rs. 5. The issue price of these warrants was set at Rs. 30.60 per warrant, as determined by the provisions of Chapter V of SEBI’s (Issue of Capital and Disclosure Requirements) Regulations, 2018.

Upon allotment, each investor was required to make an initial payment of 25% of the issue price, amounting to a total collection of Rs. 38.25 crores. This initial payment allows the warrant holders to exercise their right to convert their warrants into fully paid-up equity shares within 18 months from the date of issuance, provided they pay the remaining 75% of the issue price. The issue of these warrants will be locked in for a specified period, adhering to SEBI regulations and ensuring compliance with the Securities and Exchange Board of India (SEBI) guidelines.

The Fund Raising Committee meticulously followed the regulatory framework to ensure transparency and adherence to statutory guidelines. The issuance was conducted in strict accordance with the Securities and Exchange Board of India (Issue of Capital and Disclosure Requirements) Regulations, 2018, and other applicable rules and guidelines provided by relevant regulatory bodies.

Notable investors who participated in this preferential allotment included Elysian Wealth Fund (formerly known as Silver Stallion Limited), Vikasa India EIF I Fund, North Star Opportunities Fund VCC-Bull Value, Eminence Global Fund PCC-Eubilia Capital Partners Fund I, Nexpact Limited, and AG Dynamic Funds Limited. These entities collectively received 50 million warrants, contributing significantly to Vishal Fabrics’ capital infusion efforts.

The conclusion of the meeting marked a significant step in Vishal Fabrics' growth strategy, with the company ensuring that it is well-capitalized to fuel future expansion and growth. This successful allotment also highlights the company's commitment to complying with regulatory standards while ensuring that its financial structure remains robust.

With the completion of this warrant allotment, Vishal Fabrics Limited is poised for future financial growth, having strengthened its equity base through a well-planned and strategically executed fundraising initiative.

[venalier]

work has ever been the balm for the disquieted spirit. . . . or something like that; she's pretty sure she read that line in a romance novel somewhere once. —which! is definitely not what this is.

but the sky knight can't deny the number of sighs that escape her while she works.

and maybe this is why, at some point, she gets a firm bump on the head from the nose of one of the horses she's cleaning, enough to startle her from her concentration. after spending more than fifteen minutes wrangling the stallion in forty-seven she'd been told about even with the sugar cubes, it's an unwelcome interruption. "hey! what's that for?" brow purses up at the spotted gelding ( slow dancer. she's always thought the name was a clever one, albeit a bit girly for him if anyone asked her — and his coat lovely every time she's seen him ), who pretends to be disinterested now, nosing at some hay sticking out of the feed.

. . . animals, really.

a while later, carrying tools and covered in a mild sheen of sweat, she makes her way back to the center of the row, feeling grateful that the rest at least hadn't given her much trouble. a smile lifts to see andrei already there — and caeldori hastens her step, buckets jangling. "usually i'm the one finished first when i do these chores with someone else. this is a nice change of pace. i hope i didn't keep you waiting."

plunk. something cool lands on her head— and when she looks up, it's to the sight of suddenly grey-blanketed skies. huh? it'd been only partly cloudy a couple hours ago. "is it— raining?" other hand instinctively stretches out palm-up, but she's already regretting the amount of work they won't be able to finish. at the very least, the kinshi were going to hole themselves up somewhere as dry as possible, and definitely wouldn't want to be looked at in this weather. and exercising the horses . . . if only there was some indoor track or ring to at least get them moving.

"let's get all this cleaned up before it starts coming down." purposeful motions re-gather brooms, picks, and the like with speed, urging them both toward the tool shed; she steals a glance at andrei along the way in case he had other ideas. "i guess the horses will just have to wait a little longer. but — ugh, hm . . . maybe we can manage it if it's only a drizzle?" hard to say if it'd stay that way, having come on so suddenly.

the sun and moon like a shuttle

[carelessannie]

Tony takes three steps around the corner and stops short, standing up straight.

"Oh," he muttered after a moment, caught between wariness and delight. "Oh, Parker is not going to like that."

Swinging the halter and rope cheerfully, he continued towards the second field where Licurgo was, for lack of a better way to describe it, flirting.

Speak of the devil - the sense of being judged was almost tangible and Tony turned his head to see a pert little ass and an upturned nose marching parallel towards the fields with him, so intent on letting Tony know he didn't care for his presence that he hadn't yet noticed the way his precious little trust fund pony was all but wrapped around Tony's 'backwater hick horse.'

Tony leaned against the fence with a cheerful smirk and waited. Three... Two...

"What the fuck is your horse doing to Bal?!"

One.

"I believe its called bond-building grooming," Tony answered smugly, head cocking as he eyed the yard's star English pupil. Peter was staring with abject horror at where Balagur and Licurgo had their necks entwined, nibbling away at each other's fur in a friendly display.

Peter's cheeks had already obtained an affronted pink flush the shade of cotton candy. The stick up his ass seemed to grow in size, lending his spine a ramrod straight air.

"Look at them being B-F-F's," Tony cooed, shooting Peter a shit-eating grin.

"Shut up," Peter demanded crossly, arms folding and cheeks darkening. Over Peter's shoulder Tony could see Bucky heading straight for them, obviously anticipating that this would bubble over into another of their famous spats.

"It's not a big deal. I'll bet if we go back a few pages in their pedigrees they're even distant cousins."

"Oh please, you wish Licurgo had any of Bal's blood," Peter sniffed at him, shooting him a scowl. His cheeks were the color of roses now, dusky and hot. His brows had pinched down into what Tony liked to call his Regina George bitchface.

He pursed his lips.

"You know... Its not uncommon for bachelor stallions to form intimate bonds. Maybe they're lovers."

Bang went that pretty faced bomb.

Sheer outrage took over Peter's face and he squealed in fury, lunging for Tony. A set of strong arms wrapped around his waist and bodily hauled him off the floor like a scruffed kitten, the prissy little brat writhing and hissing in Bucky's arms.

"Whoa-hoah there, spitfire," Bucky laughed as he lifted Peter up, holding him against his chest and taking waddled steps backwards so Tony was out of range of those slender, deceptively powerful legs.

"I'm going to collect my homosexual stallion now. Toodle-pip," Tony announced cheerfully, slinging the rope over his shoulder and vaulting the fence as Peter yowled behind him.

(Find the first part here)

The worst part was— after Peter calmed down enough to finish training for the day, he could already notice a difference in Balagur’s attitude. His sweet, pure baby usually gets a second wind in the afternoon, eager to perform and even becoming more affectionate as the end of the day draws near.

But instead of excitable energy, Peter actually found himself correcting Bal twice when his posture slumped forward, deflating in a long sigh.

Once, he could understand. He pushes hard, and knows that even a stallion as fine as his Russian trotter will need a break from time to time.

Twice, and Peter was growing suspicious. He guided Bal through a series of exercises, and almost fainted to notice the horse practically dragging his feet around turns, the rhythm of his steps barely in cadence.

Balagur— Peter’s prized, award-winning and meticulously trained stallion— was throwing a temper tantrum.

Okay, Peter took a deep breath, forcing his aura to remain level-set and peaceful, he just needs some time.

Peter slowly approached where Bal was standing, making sure to remain in sight and keep his hands well within view. He wished he had a snack— it always helps to have a bribe on hand if needed.

“Shh,” Peter cooed, drawing a gloved hand up the side of Balagur’s neck, making sure to scratch behind his ears as well, “who’s my best boy, hm? Sweet, strong boy like you— what are you doing getting caught up on some second class set of hooves?”

He used both hands now to smooth out the brilliant white coat, making sure to stare deep into his horse’s eyes, “Listen to me— he’s nothing but trouble, understand? I don’t care how he sweet talks you, or how great he looks in that saddle, or how dark his hair is…”

Peter trailed off, absently thinking… not about Licurgo, but about the other stallion’s rider instead. He shook his head, focusing again, “Nevertheless! We have goals, yes? Two weeks to get down this routine, and then we’ll be draped in gold— how does that sound?”

He smiled down into Bal’s deep, dark eyes, admiring his boy’s beauty.

“I think it sounds good, sugar,” a voice called, startling Peter out of his daze. “Would love to see a pretty thing like you draped in gold, not that you don’t look stunning as is.”

Tony. The other man was settled against the fence, chewing on— is that really a piece of straw? Peter scoffed and gathered Bal’s reins, “Are you following me? Because I thought I made it perfectly clear—”

“Oh, no no no,” Tony grinned around the straw, tipping his head back to give Peter a salacious once over, “m’just here makin’ sure the goods are being taken care of.”

Peter is going to curse himself for asking, “And the goods are?”

Tony just smiled wider, looking between the two of them in some type of wild glee. Peter almost had to stop himself from smiling along. Almost.

“How’s ole’ Bal behavin’ today, sugar?” Tony asked instead, following them as they headed back to the stables, “I’ll tell ya— my boy was throwing a fit after you separated ‘em like that. Sure makes you think…”

Peter gripped the reins tighter, barely holding back his rage as he turned to give Tony an earful, but somehow the older man was already heading in the other direction.

“Pretentious cowboy,” Peter hissed, turning back to his horse, to his priorities.

He gave one last look over his shoulder, taking in the view of Tony’s firm, sculpted ass in his faded Levi’s.

No. Priorities.

[ushidoux]

Sex Talk - Megan Thee Stallion, Iwaizumi x Reader

Warnings: nsfw, highly active sex

---

Ellipticals did a body good, Iwa considered as he rested between sets of bicep curls, his eyes resting on the curve of your ass, accentuated by the snug spandex leggings you’d decided on today.

You had your headphones on full blast as you pedaled at an intensive but comfortable rate, and he could tell you were mouthing the words to your favorite song the entire time, but what he wasn’t exactly sure of was if the extra swing to your hips with every stride was intended to get a rise out of him or not. 

However, if it was, it was absolutely working. 

He attempted to peel his eyes away from the arousing sight and went for another round of curls. You were his client, even if he was more than 65% sure you had been flirting with him over the last few private sessions. Even the fact that you had asked him to meet you in the rarely frequented small gym of your apartment building could be seen as flirting. While, he had promised that he would make himself available even late to fit your busy schedule as long as you told him a few days in advance, 9pm on a saturday was a little excessive and the two of you both knew it.

But he’d agreed for whatever reason, and now here he was waiting for you to finish your cardio workout before he helped guide you through strength training.

... And brazenly staring at your figure as he lifted weights.

He may have gotten too distracted imagining what you’d look like once you slipped out of your tight activewear because when you finally stopped and jumped off the treadmill, and turned to flash him a smirk, a flush of heat unrelated to exercise reached his ears.

Caught red-handed.

“Do you like what you see, Iwaizumi-san?”

Your tone was playful and light as you approached him where he was sitting at the bench, knowing fully well that you were being a tease. You had been at this game for the past few months, after all, but now that you’d finally broken the tension, Iwaizumi wouldn’t bother with pleasantries anymore.

His reach was surprisingly long, because before you realized it, he had already snatched you by the waist, causing you to let out a soft yelp, and now you were firmly seated in his lap, facing in his direction with strong hands pressed against your hips.

Now that you were this close, you could feel your heart rate quicken at the sight of his stern and lustful eyes now zoned in on your slightly parted lips, the light, enticing scent of his sweat and the way his compression shirt highlighted every muscle of his chest and shoulders. 

“I do like what I see. So...?”

It was your turn to blush but you remained as bold as ever, invigorated by your warm-up and hungry for a different type of cardio.

“Fuck me then,” you whispered, biting your lip as you ground your hips ever so slightly to feel the bulge now growing between his legs.

He replied with a half-smirk and a single snort before gripping your thighs and pulling back so that they encircled around his waist before he rose.

“Your apartment was down the hall, right?”

---

“F-fuck H-hajime, fuck, ah, fuck, I… can’t…”

The last word came out as a moan, and whatever you said next was unintelligible. Drooling and incoherent, your body continued to respond in instinct to his relentless strokes inside you, your naked chest pressing further into the counter over which you were bent over and receiving backshot after backshot for who knows how long.

“You can and you are, baby,” he whispered into your ear, but his grip on your wrists behind you was still firm and steady, and you had no choice but to keep getting fucked within an inch of your life.

Once he had enough fun making your ass clap with every thrust, he flipped you over and rose you onto the counter, only to engulf you into another warm and passionate kiss as your wet core seeped onto the cold granite.

But soon he had you sliding right back off and onto his dick, and immediately started bouncing you up and down his cock, his arms tight around you to keep you secure as you clawed at his back, becoming more and more desperate the closer you got to your peak.

He groaned as you started to clench around him, milking him for everything he had, and while he was still moving, he tightened one hand around your waist, and used the other to smooth your hair, and you had to wonder exactly how strong he was... 

(At least, if you had the mental capacity to do so through the love drunk haze you were now in, anyway.)

“That’s it, you’re doing a great job keeping up.  You feel so fucking good...”

Lots of praise and encouragement, keeping your heartrate high, endorphins running through your body, demonstrating feats of strength...

He was really fucking good at his job.

[holylulusworld]

End of Benefits

Summary: Dean and you were friends with benefits until you need to protect your heart. (For more read the request under the tags.) 

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam Winchester, Charlie Bradbury, Jo Harvelle

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, mentions of loss of virginity, jealous reader/Dean, awkward situations, Sam is a good bro, smut, unprotected sex, tension, fun, implied smut, language

 “Asshole,” Charlie mutters watching you watching Dean flirting with another chick. It seems like he did forget about you, forget what happened not months ago.

“We are not a pair, Charlie. Dean can do whatever he wants to. It’s not that he wants more than my body on lonely nights.” You whisper bitterly seeing the chick touching Dean’s arm, whisper something in his ear.

You can see Dean licking his lips, giving her your smile…

“Dude! You let him take your virginity and go at it almost every night.” Jo grunts watching the chick grinding against Dean. “He shouldn’t do such a thing while being with you.”

A cracked smile on your lips you look at Jo, shaking your head. “We are only friends with benefits. I agreed after he took my virginity, believing Dean would change his mind one day. I was wrong, my bad.” Turning around you ignore the shrill sound of the chick’s voice or Dean’s laughter. He has a great time…

“I can cut his balls off!” Charlie is not giving up, already rummaging in her bag to find her knife. “I swear he will regret hurting my girl.”

“Charlie, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have agreed to this kind of relationship. I’m not like that and knew I would end up getting hurt.” Sniffling you look over your shoulder to watch Dean whispering something in the chick’s ear.

“Y/N…” Jo can see the tears well up your eyes and slings her arm around your shoulders. Charlie moves in front of you to block the view on the scene.

“I think I’ll leave now. Maybe Sam is still up…”

----

Silently entering the bunker after you said goodnight to your friends you stop in front of Dean’s room. Lingering there for a moment you shake your head, remembering the night you fell in his arms for the first time.

Since then he came to your room almost every night, except for the ones you or Dean were injured after a rough hunt. Tonight is different. Tonight, he stayed at the bar with this foreign chick.

You can hear the TV in Sam’s room and silently knock at his door, hoping you can spend some time with your best friend.

“Come in.” The moment you enter the room Sam sees the hurting in your eyes and rushes to your side. He’s not asking what happened, he already knows. Charlie texted him, told him about Dean’s behavior. “Wanna watch a movie with me?”

“Thank you…”

----

Hours later you are almost asleep in Sam’s bed when you hear someone shuffling in front of the door.

Sam is fast asleep, so you grab your gun, to look who’s sneaking around in the bunker. Opening the door, you need to hold back a shriek seeing Dean standing in front of the door.

“There you are, Baby Girl! I was looking for you!” Dean mutters, trying to cup your cheek but you flinch away.

“You were looking for me? That’s a good one! You didn’t even recognize Charlie, Jo and I left hours ago. You were busy getting balls deep into that chick, I guess.” Words dripping with venom you cross your arms over your chest while Dean tries to charm you with his smile and words.

You don’t believe a single word…

“I want you, Y/N. Can’t keep my eyes off you…” Dean tries but this time you won’t give in.

“Why? Did the kid you were chatting up had to go home? Do you believe I will play your consolation prize tonight? No, Dean. I can’t do this anymore…” Looking up at Dean you shake your head. “Or rather I don’t want to…”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Dean gasps, trying to touch you once again. 

Slapping his hand away you scoff. “That means end of benefits, Winchester. I’m going to sleep in Sam’s room. Goodnight. Look for someone else or call the slut. I bet she gave you her number…”

Dean is shocked when you walk back into Sam’s room, silently closing the door before you let the tears fall. You must protect your heart and can’t let Dean walk all over you ever again.

----

Weeks passed and you feel better. Slowly you started to run with Sam, to do something else than sitting in the bunker, avoiding Dean.

He tried to touch you, tried to lie to your face to get in your good grace again but you refused. You won’t let Dean hurt you anymore, so you slapped his hand away, telling him to never touch you again.

This morning you are ready for your next training with Sam. Wearing his training shorts, and a tank top Sam explains the next exercise.

“Wait…you want to do push-ups while I’m wrapped around you or something?” Scratching your head, you got no clue what Sam means.

“You lie on the floor and then you wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist,” Sam explains while you still got no clue how he shall do push-ups while lifting you.

“Dude! I’m heavy, Sammy. I could crack your back.” Teasing Sam, you poke your finger into his firm chest, giggling.

“I can do it. You will train your muscles this way too. You have to hold tight on me for quite a while, Y/N.” Sam is not giving up, trying to convince you.

“Fine! I’ll do it, Winchester. If you hurt yourself, it’s your fault, not mine…”

----            

Sam is panting, lifting his weight and yours is way more exhausting but he can feel his muscles flex while you hold tight onto him like an ape. His face is contorted, sweat drips down Sam’s body while you try to not fall to the ground.

Your muscles ache, sweat is soaking your clothes. Sam was right, this kind of training is exhausting. What neither you nor Sam see is Dean watching your ‘odd’ training. 

He can see your sweat-slicked body, clinging to Sam’s, can heart the heavy grunts of his brother and you panting heavily. 

Dean’s mind drifts toward one night in which you were riding him for the first time. He let you handcuff his hands to the headboard while you rode him like a ‘stallion’.

“Damn, I think that was an awesome training…” Sam chuckles when you let go off him, just lying on the floor for a moment. “It was…” Panting you give Sam a thumb up before you gather enough strength to walk toward the showers.

Passing Dean, you press your lips into a thin line while your former lover watches his brother staring at your ass, trying to hide the bulge in his pants.

“Don’t even think about it!” Dean warns before he turns on his heels, walking out of the room, muttering insults.

He can’t see the smirk all over Sam’s face. His plan starts to ‘work-out’ as planned…

----

“Ready for your morning run, Y/N?” Sam asks watching you stretch your body. “Ready if you are, Sammy. I’m gonna…” Stopping in your tracks you see Dean standing outside the bunker in track pants.

“Dude, don’t hurt yourself.” Sam teases watching Dean stretching his body. “What are you doing here at that time in the morning?”

Dean looks flustered but he won’t give away he needs to make sure Sam keeps his hands to himself. “I want to become fitter too. I thought to start to run ain’t that bad, ‘cause we run for our lives most of the time…”

Ignoring Dean, you start running without waiting for Sam. The only time of the day you were able to avoid Dean completely and he must mess this up for you too.

----

“You know…” Sam pants watching his brother staring at your sweaty shirt glued to your body. “You could ask Y/N to help you with push-ups too. She’s a great training partner.”

Dean is busy running faster to get a glimpse at your tits, jiggling while you run. Sweat is soaking your shirt and he can see your stiff nipples.

“What did you say, Sammy?”

“Training…push-ups or how about squats?” 

----

“Alright, Y/N. Dean wants to train his legs some more. How about some squats while he uses you as weight?” Sam explains.

Nodding you jump into Dean’s arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. Out of instinct, Dean grabs your ass, squeezing it tightly.

“Dude! Training doesn’t mean you can get grabby. Don’t touch me.” 

Clearing his throat, face flushed Dean glares at Sam who started laughing at his brother's pained expression.

“Back to training. You should do twenty squats, testing if you can do more. I’ll have some water meanwhile. If it’s getting too intense, stop the training. We don’t want you to get hurt, both of you…” Sam smirks walking out of the library while Dean is trying to find a position to get started.

Opening his legs slightly wider than his shoulder width, Dean bends his knees as far as possible while keeping his feet flat on the ground. 

You are holding tight onto Dean while he starts moving up and down. Dean starts grunting, feeling your breasts pressed tightly against his chest while you struggle with the fact you can feel his hard bulge pressing against your core.

Minutes feel like hours and you need to get away from Dean as fast as possible before he can feel your soaked panties.

“I think…” The pressure gets too much, you need to get off Dean as with every move he makes his cock is pressing against you even more. “That’s enough for today.”

Trying to jump off Dean you lose balance, but before you can fall to the floor Dean grabs your arm, making you stumble. Your boobs end up pressed against his chest, and one of your hands grabs his pants only to grope his cock.

“Guys? Is that what you call training?” Sam eyes the bulge in Dean’s pants, laughing as you walk toward the showers, glancing over your shoulder. “You coming?”

Dean’s eyes round and a dirty grin appears all over his face before he runs after you to drag you into the bathroom. The door barely closed behind you before Dean is on you, tugging at your clothing.

Weeks, fuck…I haven’t seen you naked in weeks…” Groaning against your lips Dean rips your top into shreds. “Get out of these clothes or they are history.”

Sliding your pants and panties down you chuckle watching Dean eagerly stripping his clothes off. A jiffy later he’s back on you, pressing you against the tile wall, claiming your lips while his fingers toy with your clit.

“You are dripping for me. Need to help you out, Baby Girl. God, do you know how much I want you to ride me? Want you to handcuff me and use my dick…?” Dean is slipping two fingers into you as you grab his hair, forcing him to look at you.

“Ride you?” Gasping you feel his digits brush over your g-spot, causing you to shudder. “Let’s see how good you can make me feel and later I’ll ride your dick…”

“I can handle you…anytime…anywhere…” Dean mutters retreating his fingers before you can fall over the edge. He grabs your ass, making you jump into his arms once again. “Gonna make some more squats with you right now.”

Arms around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist you watch Dean lining his cock up with your entrance, crying out when he slide right into you.

“Fuck!” Stretched to your limit, pressed against the cool tile wall you paw at Dean’s shoulder when his hips start moving. He’s cursing, while his cock rams into you.

“Need you…need you so bad, Sweetheart…” Grunts leave his lips while you try to not let go of his shoulders. 

Your nails bite into his muscles, your lips nip along his jawline while you take his punishing thrusts. 

“Dean…” Toes curling, your pussy already pulsing around his shaft you whine when Dean stops moving to pull out of you. ‘Dropped’ to the floor you squeal when he turns you around to bend you over, reentering you with one forceful snap of his hips. 

Gripping the edge of the bathtub you start pushing back onto his dick, not caring about the dirty noises you make. 

Sam scrunches up his nose, shaking his head as he passes the bathroom.

Dean, on the other hand, is fisting your hair, calling you his dirty girl. He’s holding you in a tight grip, feeling your walls start to tighten again.

“Come on my dick, Baby. Wanna feel you squeezing me tightly.”

Now you cry out his name, nails breaking at the way you grip the edge of the bathtub even harder. Dean grunts, feeling your slick gushing all over his cock.

Slowing down, only giving you shallow thrusts he let out a deep sigh before his cum floats your channel.

“Damn…I needed that…”

----

Awkward…no beyond awkward you let Dean gently wash your hair. A million questions on your tongue you try to find a way to ask Dean what you shall do now.

“I’ve missed you, Sweetheart…” His voice soft, apologetic Dean moves his arms around your waist. Placing a soft kiss to the sweet spot behind your ear he falls silent for a moment.

“I know you mean sex…” Bitterness in your voice you try to hold back the tears, knowing Dean will never feel the same.

“No, I’ve missed you. I’m bad at admitting my feelings and crap but I do love you, Y/N. I flirted with that chick to get you out of my mind but before she could give me her number I left…”

“Dean…”

“Please, let me show you how I feel for you…”

“Okay…”

-----

“Dude! I want a shower too.” Sam mutters watching Dean leading you out of the bathroom, grinning.

“Bitch!” Dean retorts giving his brother a wink. “Thanks, tho. I know you planned this, planned to bring us back together.”

“Only if you stop doing it in the showers, kitchen or library…”

Dean smirks, licking his lips. “Can’t promise anything but I can assure you right now…” Now he leans closer, chuckling. “My girl will ride me hard in my bedroom…”

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @strayrosesbloom, @thewinchesterco, @hobby27, @kittycatlover18, @gh0stgurl, @marvelfansworld , @sandlee44, @hawaiianohana31, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @katpatrova17, @notyourtypicalrose , @heyitscam99, @onethingthatkeepsmealive, @natura1phenomenon, @flamencodiva, @echoesofpassion, @cocklesbelli, @voltage-my2dlove, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @thenamelesschibi, @lauravic, @fandomsrourlives, @wittysunflower, @drakelover78, @lemondropirwin, @lonewolf471, @wronglanemendes, @spnhollis, @void-imaginations, @jay-and-dean, @shatteredabby, @juniorhuntersam, @helpmeluci, @neii3n, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @alltimesamantha, @chonisberonica, @supernaturalonice @stuckys-whore, @shadowkat-83, @officialmarvelwhore, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel @wecantgiggleitsafandom, @meganywinchester, @shikshinkwon, @miraclesoflove, @yolobloggers, @guardian-tn, @lu-sullivan, @maniacproffesor, @hollymac79, @straycuties9, @kayla-2000, @ilovefanfic86, @gracefultrenchcoat494, @babygirls-fav, @sadn0va, @spnwoman @amiquette, @linki-locks11, @geekofmanyforms, @eggingamazinglove, @jessica-marsh09, @spnficgirl, @shut-themoonscone, @thequeenreaders, @countrygal17a, @kteelou, @soryuwifeyxx, @kricketc28, @heartislubbingdubbing, @atomicfandombomb, @defenderrosetyler , @shortwinchester, @maybesomedaygayyyy, @differentstudentrunaway-e70bf763

If your name is crossed out Tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason. Sorry.

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags     

@spnfamily-j2, @supernatural-bellawinchester, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @deans-baby-momma, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester, @20gayneen​, @janicho88​, @thefaithfulwriter​, @dreaminemz​, @negans-lucille-tblr, @sadwaywardkid​, @akshi8278​, @hhiggs​, @midnightsilver16830​, @mrspeacem1nusone​, @ria132love​, @caligraphee​, @the-witch-in-silence​, @multisuperfandom​, @deansgirl-1968​, @justanotherwinchester​, @jadesupernatural​, @squirrelnotsam​, @gaveherhearttotheliontattoo​, @roonyxx​, @jason-todd-squad​, @thevelvetseries​, @spnsuper17​, @adoptdontshoppets​, @woodworthti666​

Original Request:

So dean takes reader virginity and became “friends” with benefits, she loves him but she thinks he don’t feel the same but he does. One night at the bar she see dean flirt with a girl so when they go back to bunker she go sleep with Sammy to watch a movie ending what her and dean have. Reader always run with Sam, and one morning after two weeks she refuse dean touches, dean enter the library finding her in Sam harms while his doing push-ups, dean see how she’s sweating with the ponytail moving 2 Hearing hers and Sam grunts and remember when she riding him. She jump of Sam and go to shower and when she’s out of sight D see S hard looking at her ass, jealous dean tell Sam do not ever think to lay a hand on her storming out of the room. The next morning D is waiting for her and S outside the bunker to go run with them, S jokes when see him but she just start run with the boys behind her, when they are running d can’t stop looking at her sweating and her boobs moving 3 S who knows his brother is to stupid to take a move on her he said reader to help dean doing the same pushups she does with him,when she jump on dean arms of instinct dean put his hands on her ass and she scold him that he don’t have to touch her he’s a little horny and embarrassed while Sam is laughing,after S tell him how to do he start moving and every time he moves her boob press on his chest and his bulge touch her core and he grunt,she’s a mess to because she can feel his hot on her core 4 when she jump on the floor she lost balance and she fall on the floor on dean lap accidentally brushing her core on him so dean stop her with his hands tighten her thighs, back at the bunker Sam can fell sexual tension and everyone notice dean big bulge, when she’s going to shower she turns around tell dean “you don’t come?” and dean smirk running behind her, when they enter the bathroom are kissing passionately and dean fuck on the floor telling her to ride him then he flips her on her back 5 and start fuck her hard releasing the two weeks without sex and Sam can eart how they are screaming, when they shower dean caress her and reveal his fellings for her, out of the bathroom dean thanks Sam for taking them back together officially. fluff, smutt hot, humor, angst bit

 Please consider I had to change a few things:

1.      I decided to use squats instead of push-ups. This way she can ‘jump’ up on Dean. That’s a bit difficult while trying to do push-ups. I didn’t get how she shall land on his lap after doing push-ups on the ground, hun. (I cut this scene out…)

2.      I changed the smut scene too. I wanted to include the ‘training’…

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Option Three

Aaron closed his laptop and let out a defeated sigh. He’d read the email from the State of New York informing him that the public schools would remain closed for the remainder of the academic year. Naturally, this meant his own district as well—the Half Hollow Hills Central School District—and probably meant that he wouldn’t be able to see his friends from the athletics department until at least August.

The lack of income wasn’t a huge problem for him—his buddy Jack at a financial services firm in Queens helped set up investment he could withdraw from to cover the essentials. His landlord dropping the rent helped too but he was far from a life of luxury right now, just like everyone else. He was bored and longed for social interaction again.

It was easy to fall out of shape, given his lack of access to his regular gym and martial arts studio. He kept active with some sets of push-ups and abdominal exercises to maintain his fitness, and stretched to maintain his flexibility, but he missed the warmth of his blood running though his veins and the challenge the instructors there put him through on a regular basis.  

And of course, he missed training with Lucy, an instructor there a few years younger than him who taught him most of the more difficult techniques. Her classes were his favorite—she pushed her students further physically than the others did, and maintained enthusiasm and energy for the whole session.

And she looked damn fine doing it too. Without doubt the toughest part of her class was not staring at her. Of course he would never let her catch him—he believed with confidence she could swiftly and decisively end his life if she ever wanted to.

Fortunately for Aaron, however, she liked him enough that she wouldn’t do that, and she lived two doors down the hall from him. Even now, during quarantine he’d at least still get to talk to her.

  He caught up to her at the mailboxes one afternoon. “Hey Lucy,” he called out to her. “You going crazy during lockdown too?”

She smiled when she saw him. “I’m bouncing off the walls in here, dude. I’m so over this.”

Here she was in regular clothes, picking up her mail and chatting about their situation. It was easy to forget Lucy was a regular person too. “Preach…” he decided to go for it. “You free later?”

“I’m doing a virtual tutorial for ISD at 7. What’s up?”

ISD—their martial arts school, the Iron Self Defense Academy. If Aaron got nothing else from them he got confidence. “I was just looking to see if you wanted to hang out later. I know it won’t be like that time at the bar in Huntington, but it’s something, right.”

Quarantine be damned, if anyone was sick in their building they’d have known by now. Lucy smirked and shifted her weight a little. “No, I think it’ll be better.” This prompted a mote of surprise from Aaron. “I’ll be done at 7:45,” she said as she passed him by, jabbing a light elbow in his side as she did. “Don’t be late,” she added with a wry smirk.

Wouldn’t dream of it.

  He knocked on her door at 7:46 that evening. She answered in gray yoga leggings and a black pullover hoodie with the ISD logo on the front. She chided him initially for showing up ninety seconds late, but forgave him when he presented a dozen bottles of her favorite beer.

They started in the kitchen area, sharing the beer over leftover pizza, and ended up on the couch watching episode after episode of the Hostile Planet series of nature documentaries.

“God,” Lucy said, “I love these shows. I think that one’s my favorite series.”

“Really?” Aaron added incredulously. “I think Bear Grylls was a little much.”

“Are you kidding?” she laughed. “He’s perfect—he fit right in with the whole ‘survival’ theme.”

“I mean, I guess… I don’t know I think I would have preferred somebody else. Like Sir David Attenborough.”

“Come on, that’s an obvious pick. Use your imagination a little!”

“Well… I wouldn’t mind hearing Idris Elba or Jeremy Irons narrate a series like this.”

“Both solid choices,” Lucy added. “Amazing set of pipes on both of them.”

“I’m pretty sure the Nature Documentary Narrator position was made for a British guy. It’s tough to imagine anybody else doing it.”

Lucy and Aaron shared a laugh and the moment, just looking at and appreciating each other. Her in her hoodie and leggings; him in track pants, a t-shirt, and a zip up hoodie.

After six seconds of unbroken eye contact, Lucy finally spoke up. “Thanks, Aaron. This was fun, I needed this.”

“You’re welcome, Lucy… So,” Aaron said, feigning confidence a little, “it’s 2am on a Friday night, and you have me in your apartment, all alone. What do you want to do?”

Lucy raised an eyebrow, smirking a little. “Well, I’m open to suggestions, what are you thinking?”

“I do have five ideas on what we can do next.”

“Ooh,” she teased, “I’m breathless to hear them.”

“Okay,” he said straightening his posture. He counted them off on his fingers, pausing between each item “We can find something else to watch, we can grab another beer, we can fool around… we can do a combination of the above…”

Lucy broke eye contact. Her wry smirk began to straighten and her lips parted slightly.

“…or I can wish you good night and leave--”

“Definitely not that.”

This took him by surprise “Wait, not��that?”

“No, I know what I want to do next.” Lucy got up off the couch and made her way across her apartment to the bedroom. She looked back over her shoulder at Aaron, still seated and almost frozen in disbelief. “Aren’t you coming?”

  There was no chit-chat once Aaron crossed the threshold. Lucy took hold of his face and pulled him in for a sensuous kiss that deepened as her arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders. He returned in kind, gently kissing her although his hands were saying other things—running on their own up and down her back. They made it underneath her hoodie and slowly lifted it up over her head, pausing at her sports bra before her hands took over and she freed herself of the woolen garment.

There she was, in the same perfection which he first beheld her: her build supple but strong, stunningly beautiful in a classical warrior kind of way, like a Valkyrie. Only this time the hunger in her eyes was for him, and him alone. Aaron felt on top of the world, that he had that effect on the woman of his dreams. Before he could even think for a second longer, Lucy took hold of his hoodie and fell backward onto the white bed spread, pulling him on top of her and locking lips again.

Before long Aaron slipped out of his jacket and under the sheets with her, running his free hand up and down her leg as Lucy pared off his t-shirt, ghosting her fingers up his sculpted frame like an artist validating her work. Their bodies were already warming up when Aaron braved her waist band and pushed his hand down to her panties. He lingered for a few seconds after breaking their kiss to make sure he was alright to proceed. She nodded quickly and reclaimed him as he began stroking her. Her wet panties told him she was loving every second of this just as much as he was.

Lucy freed one of her hands to pull her panties aside and allow Aaron more access to her, and freed the other to pull at his waistband and return the favor. He was well-endowed, there was no doubt about that; she smirked a bit at his, excitement, she felt through his underwear and he let a quiet moan slip when she felt him.

“You’re just aching for me, aren’t you?” she teased.

“Oh,” Aaron said, “since forever..!”

“Well, then,” she said, peeling off her leggings and casting her slicked panties aside, “you better come here and get me.” She removed her bra to reveal her b-cup breasts and slid under him, inviting him with a libidinous gaze and an even more seductive lip bite.

Aaron decided he wasn’t going to keep her waiting one more second. He threw his pants aside and got out of his underwear. She always called him a stallion for enduring her classes with little wear or fatigue; now he was going to prove it to her.

  Once inside Aaron paid attention to his form and the queues Lucy was giving him. He made sure he hit all the right notes and made this moment even better for her than it was for him. Like this? he would prompt with his hips. Like this, she would affirm with hers. He began to accelerate when her breathing became faster and her moaning became louder. She was insatiable; wrapping her legs tight around him and digging her fingernails into his back as she abandoned all concern that their neighbors would hear them.

Then Lucy took control; she broke the grip her legs had on him to turn Aaron onto his back with a thrust of one of her hips. Glowing, she claimed her spot on top of him and grinded her wetness on his excitement, her hair down around her shoulders

“I know that move,” Aaron said, laughing and catching his breath a little.

“I knew you’d catch that,” laughing as she caught her own.

Aaron took hold of her hips as she lowered herself onto him, guiding him up inside her again with her hands and letting out another moan. She started slowly, gently pulling herself up and down, but quickly returned to their previously established pace and volume. Lucy loved having Aaron inside her, and knew he was in heaven too. Especially after his next four words gave him away:

“I’m going to cum..!”

Lucy wasn’t finished yet, but she was getting close. She planted one hand on the headboard and the other on his shoulder to anchor herself as she bounced on him even harder than before.

“Lucy, I’m going to cum!”

“So… am… I!”

“I’m going to cum inside you, you have to--!”

Lucy finished first, screaming near the top of her lungs and sinking down onto him. As her hips rocked in place he thrust his head back into the pillow, matching her volume. Aaron finished inside her, but didn’t seem to mind now despite his prior protestations.

When she knew he was done, Lucy gently lifted herself up off of him and flopped down next to Aaron. She snuggled close to him and they drifted off to sleep together with the television still on in the other room.

  Aaron woke up in a bedroom that wasn’t his, and tanked the good Lord last night wasn’t a dream. He looked over at Lucy next to him, just waking up herself.

“Hey, lady,” he said.

“Well, hello there,” she returned with a smirk. She began to sit up when a pang of guilt washed across her face. “Listen,” she started. “Sorry about last night. It’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone and I got a little carried away. I hope I didn’t ruin it for you.”

“Ruin what,” Aaron said, “the hottest sex I’ve ever had? I just hope it was good for you too, because I want to keep doing that every day for the rest of my life..!”

Lucy smiled and laughed. “We’ll have to do some planning, then!” She sat up fully and stretched, knowing Aaron would appreciate the sight. “So,” she suggested when she was done. “It’s Saturday morning at 9:30, and you just woke up next to your dream girl after some fantastic sex. What do you want to do now?” she said with a grin.

Aaron began to chuckle to himself. He had a feeling he knew what she would suggest.

“Because I can think of a few things we can do if you need some ideas.”

“Tempting,” Aaron said with a laugh, “but I think we should start with breakfast.” 

--Brendan M. Lubin, April 2020

_________

Fucking shit, Brendan, I'm just gonna be over here fanning myself for a while. I can't tell if I want to fuck Aaron or Lucy more. (The chaotic bisexual in me is shouting 'both' right now, by the way.)

You guys should definitely check out Brendan's blog @the-original-b. He posts awesome poems, and when I'm lucky he drops these sexy little stories into my ask box. ;) For real, B, you should try and post more of these on your blog. I, for one, am gaining a lot of inspiration from them. ;)

[alydiarackham]

(Cover by me)

The Riddle Walker by Alydia Rackham (Book 2 Weaving of Time Trilogy)

Prologue

           The young man glanced in the dull, curved mirror. He frowned. It was covered with dust. Reaching out a leather-gloved hand, he swiped at the circular surface, clearing it so that it reflected better. Bending closer, he studied his face. It was young, white, carven, princely, and hard. He had sharp, aquiline eyebrows, his mouth was set and grave, his cheekbones high and defined, and his straight, brown hair hung down to his collar. He fingered a strand of his hair that was now bearing a bit of gray, which was slightly annoying. The same hand strayed to his right eye and gently pressed against the soft skin beneath it. He was already losing his sight there—and gaining it at the same time. His mouth twitched. He still was not used to this appearance, but it did not disconcert him. Quite the opposite. He had made this transition thousands of times, and he never grew tired of regaining strong muscle and sinew, and a staggeringly handsome face.

           He pulled a long, woolen riding cloak off of a wooden hook beside the mirror and slung it around his shoulders. He glanced down as he clasped it, striding down the dark, stone hallway and then kicking the door open. The door banged against the outside wall. Sunshine showered over him and warmed the top of his head. His clothes ruffled as a crisp, moist wind blew down off the hillside. The twittering of birds filled the air. He glanced up and behind him at the four gray towers of the castle, reaching high into the brilliant blue skies, each bearing a vibrant banner.

           Three men waited for him in the gravel yard, each atop a muscular, sleek black horse. One was the lord of this castle, a robust, red-headed, bearded man named Lord Ackhenhaill. The other was his firstborn son, Brody, a young, lean, blonde man who thought of nothing but hunting. The third was their guest, a dark-haired, good-hearted, battle-scarred Lord Alasdair MacDomnhaill, ruler of Tioramir and half of Scotland. The young man clasping his cloak concealed his smile. This was the man who would be receiving the bulk of his attention.

           “Good morning, my son,” Lord Ackhenhaill called merrily. The young man forced himself to acknowledge Ackhenhaill, reminding himself that the lord was talking to him, as his second son.

           “Good morning,” the young man answered briskly.

           “How did you sleep?” Brody asked.

           “Tolerably,” the young man replied, turning toward the servant who was bringing out his stallion. The young man snatched the reins from the servant, restraining himself from striking him in the face. The cowering stableman hurried away as the young man mounted.

           “It is such a glorious day,” Ackhenhaill took a deep breath as he cast his gaze across the sweeping emerald hills and blooming hedges.

           “It is indeed, finally,” Brody agreed. “Our horses haven’t had proper exercise since the rains.”

           “Shall we stretch their legs?” Alasdair suggested. The young man watched him carefully, observing the white dustings in his beard.

           “Are you certain you are up to it, my lord?” the young man asked, arching an eyebrow.

           “Haha!” Ackhenhaill crowed. “Up to it? Oh, I assure you, there is no bolder rider in all of Scotland!”

           The young man turned and grinned broadly at the bright-eyed, firm-jawed Alasdair.

           “Then I shall enjoy the challenge of keeping up with you, my lord!”

           Chapter One

"A Death and an Oath"

Western Scotland, 1335

              The candles had nearly burned themselves down. No one had bothered to replace them for hours, and so their light grew dimmer and paler, the shadows creeping out from the edges of the stone room and steadily venturing toward the center, where the MacDonald laird now lay. He was swathed in crimson sheets, guarded by wooden angels that formed the posts of his canopied bed.          

           The flickering light deepened the colors of the wood and the bedclothes, touching the faces of the angels so that they almost animated with sympathy. The laird himself remained motionless, his face drawn with grim effort, as if resisting a tide. He was not an old man. He should not be there on his deathbed, unable to move. He knew this, and in his heart, he railed against it. But no more so than his three sons.

           From oldest to youngest, they stood by their father's bedside: Dunmor, Bhaird and Oleron. All wore elegant black, remaining motionless, hanging on their father's every shallow breath.

           Bhaird, the middle son, stiffly glanced at his older brother. Dunmor's proud head bowed gravely, his curly, auburn locks obscuring his solemn eyes. The battle scar on his cheek seemed accentuated in this light, and in that small place on his jaw, his skin glinted where his close beard would not grow.  

           Bhaird turned a similar glance to his right, where Oleron stood. Oleron's clean-shaven, pale, cultured visage showed he was visibly pained; deeply grieved. His sapphire eyes glimmered with tears, and his well-bred jaw tightened. Bhaird risked a breath, returning his gaze to his father. None of them had spoken all day. And he knew that all day, they had each been remembering the day before.

              The day before had dawned brilliantly. Bhaird was already up before the cock crew, had dressed in simple riding clothes and boots, and run a brush through his hair. He strode to his bedroom window and pushed open the shutters, letting in the scent of lush moorland and the soft light of the spring sunshine. He had been looking forward to this day. Spring had officially arrived, and upon this day, every year since they had been able, he and his brothers had gone hunting for hart. His face clouded for a moment as he remembered that their father would not be accompanying them---he was away to a neighboring family clan, once again attempting to find a wife for Dunmor.

           Bhaird snorted as he snatched his belt and turned toward his door. Dunmor would never settle for someone his father picked out. After all, what did an old man know about beautiful young ladies?

           He flung the door open and trotted down the stairs as he fastened his belt, whistling as he went. His feet hit the corridor floor and he strolled easily down it, opening shutters to the morning whenever he saw them.

           Movement caught his eye ahead of him and he quit whistling. A willowy lady rustled along before him, her long, waving auburn hair hanging down almost to her knees, her emerald skirts brushing her ankles. She turned and saw him. Her dark, long-lashed eyes warmed and her lovely face beamed.

           "Good morning, Bhaird," Her comely mouth smiled wryly. "I can always tell it's you before I even turn around."

           "Oh, whatever do you mean, Lady Elinor?" he asked nonchalantly, coming up to her and offering her his arm. She took it and he clasped her hand in his, tucking her arm under his and pressing her hand naturally against his chest, as he always did. She glanced teasingly up at him.

           "You're loud," she answered.

           "Ha!" He pretended to be offended. "Perhaps I am, in comparison to my deathly-silent brothers."

           "Yes, Oleron especially is very quiet," Elinor admitted. "Which is considered a virtue this early in the morning."

           Bhaird just laughed again. Though his wit was usually sharp as a blade, he could never outfox Elinor in a battle of banter. He remembered the day Oleron had arrived with her; Bhaird had liked her instantly. However, with a deep, settled knowledge that he did not like to think about, he had realized that he himself had no chance with her. That had been confirmed upon Elinor and Oleron's marriage.

           For three years so far Elinor had showered the whole house with warmth and happiness. They had not had a lady in the household since Lady Kiera, the brothers' mother had died, and Elinor's presence did wonders for Tioramir. The place looked hospitable again---like a home---rather than some sort of cave, the appearance it had taken on when only men dwelt there. She cared for all four men, helping run the household and the kitchen, and often surprising them with the skills that she possessed in horsemanship and storytelling.

           "I must admit, though," Elinor commented as the two of them headed down the spiraling stairs. "You are louder this morning than usual. What are you so happy about?"

           Bhaird grinned.

           "My silent brothers and I are going deer hunting today," he answered.

           "Oh, yes. Oleron told me about that," Elinor recalled. "Where will you go?"

           "Just within the castle's lands," he answered. "The serfs find it sporting to watch."

           Elinor frowned delicately.

           "That reminds me; I'm due to go down to the village today."

           This was the part of Elinor that both confused and intrigued Bhaird. Elinor had brought with her more than just a sunny disposition and a new decor to the castle. She had also implemented what could be called "reforms." She required that everyone---lord or slave---bathe at least twice a week, wash his hair, wash his face daily, and scrub his teeth with odd, small brushes that she had made out of finely-cleaned horsehair. She also made weekly trips herself down to the village of Tioramir to teach the serfs' children to read. Some of these actions would be questionable, others intolerable, if Oleron did not always support her whole-heartedly, and if they all did not love her as much as they did.

           Bhaird did not get the chance to comment on her last recollection, for they now entered the smaller of the two dining rooms---the one meant only for the family. There were four windows on the western wall, allowing morning light into the tall, stone room without scorching anyone. Dunmor and Oleron sat waiting for them, a break fast of bread, butter, cheese, apples and blackberries spread out on the long table. Elinor lit up when she saw Oleron and let go of Bhaird. Oleron grinned at her.

           "Good morning, Ellie," he greeted her.

           "Good morning," she replied, kissing him lightly and seating herself next to him. Bhaird avoided watching this affectionate exchange, then moved around the table to sit by Dunmor.

           "Good morning, Dunmor," Elinor said brightly, settling her skirts. The eldest smiled warmly at her.

           "Hello, Elinor. I hope you slept well?"

           "Oh, indeed," she nodded. Dunmor seemed satisfied.

           "Let's eat," Bhaird cut in impatiently, reaching for his bread and butter. "It's high time we were on the hunt."

               "Lean forward more when you jump those hedges, Bhaird!" Oleron shouted over the dull pounding of hooves against the peat.

           "Be quiet and mind your own horse," Bhaird answered back, resettling himself in his saddle after that last jump.

           "Fine, but if you go tipping off again---"

           "Listen, someone who can't even shoot straight shouldn't be telling me---"

           "There he is!" Dunmor cut them off and pulled his horse's head hard so that he sliced sideways, toward the river. The three men rode abreast, Dunmor slightly out front. They all rode dark stallions whose manes and tails flung out behind them in the fresh wind. Bhaird’s horse’s name was Falcon. His father had given him to him years ago, and Bhaird had broken him. Of all the horses in the stable, Falcon listened to Bhaird best.

The cool air also lashed the hair and clothes of the men as they tore across the moor, leaping over stone walls and heather toward the woods.

           Far ahead of them, flitting like some member of the fairy-folk, dashed a sleek hart, his antlers now the only part of him visible over the brush. Ducking his head to avoid low branches, Bhaird darted into the trees behind Dunmor, hearing Oleron follow on his tail. Bhaird instantly had to check Falcon’s speed, for the footing here was treacherous, and a wild rosebush could fell a beast as easily as a snare. Fortunately, the hart had also realized this, and had slowed a bit as well. Dunmor, masterfully letting go of the reins and steering with his knees, brought his bow around front and slid an arrow from its quiver.

           A branch reached out and slapped Bhaird across the face. He frowned fiercely as he felt its sting, but quickly refocused on his brother. Ahead of them lay a small clearing. When the deer leaped into it, and was illuminated by the sunlight, Dunmor would shoot.

           Dunmor put the arrow to the string and pulled back. Bhaird sucked in his breath. Once again, his older brother would have the glory of bringing down the---

           The bellow of a horn split the air. Oleron's horse stopped instantly. Bhaird had to rein back and Falcon neighed in protest. Dunmor, momentarily flustered, took a moment before he leaned back in his saddle and called: "Ho!" Reluctantly, his stallion slowed to a halt. The deer darted away and was lost in the tangle. The horn sounded again. Bhaird glanced over at Oleron. He had gone pale. Oleron glanced at his brothers.

           "That is not good. That's---"

           "Right," Dunmor nodded crisply, putting away his weapons. "We had best head back."

           Instantly, Oleron turned his mount and pelted out of the woods. Dunmor spurred his horse past Bhaird's and followed their youngest brother. Bhaird glanced reluctantly back at the waving branches where the hart had vanished, then, his jaw tightening in disappointment, turned and galloped out of the forest as well.

           They made straight for the huts and smoking chimneys of the village, both Oleron and Dunmor disregarding any preparation before leaping the hedges. Bhaird trailed behind, not willing to risk Falcon’s knees, for he was older than the other two. They reluctantly slowed as they entered the walls of the village, for people were hurrying to and fro on their daily errands. Their hooves clattered on the hardened earth as they trotted through. Peasants leaped out of their path, and Bhaird was glad for it; if something was wrong, they would only get in the way.

           "Oleron!"

           A cry came from somewhere ahead of them, and Oleron's head jerked. Elinor came racing toward them, her hair windblown, one hand hiking up her skirts, the other clasping a piece of parchment. Oleron slid off the horse without thinking and ran to her. Bhaird blinked, and his heart gave a pang. Elinor was crying. Oleron grabbed her and she fell against him.

           "Oleron, it's your father."

           Bhaird went stiff. Peripherally, he saw Dunmor do the same. Elinor took a gasping breath and her face twisted.

           "Something happened while he was out riding with Lord Ackhenhaill. Ackhenhaill lost sight of him in the woods, and when he... Ackhenhaill...found him, Alasdair's horse was gone and he was lying unconscious in the rocks..."

           "Shh," Oleron pressed her to him, trying to comfort, but his face showed his terror.

           "It's too much the same..." Elinor whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. "It can't happen to you, too..."

           Dunmor jumped off his horse. His boots crunched on the gravel.

           "May I see the message?" he asked huskily. Bhaird still could not move. Elinor nodded, biting her lip, and handed him the parchment, which by now was rather wrinkled. Dunmor smoothed it out with his gloved hands and read it carefully. His rugged brow furrowed darkly and he swallowed.

           "Well..." He cleared his throat. "They should be bringing him soon. They set out right after they sent the messenger."

           "They shouldn't have moved him, Oleron," Elinor murmured, shaking her head. "You never move someone who has hit his head or his back..."

           Oleron did not reply. He just wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the forehead.             "Come," he said quietly, took her hand and lead her to the horse. He got on first, then helped her mount behind him. He turned grimly to his brothers.

           "Let us meet them on the road to see that they carry him carefully."

             They had done so. But all of the careful bearing in the world had not seemed to help. Thus, the three young men had stood restlessly beside their father all the rest of the day, all night, and all of the following day. And now all four of them could sense that, despite their best efforts, the end was drawing near.

           "Dunmor..."

           The sons jerked. Their father had spoken. Dunmor quickly knelt down by the bedside and leaned earnestly toward his father.

           "Yes, I am here, sir," he assured him, taking his father's right hand in both of his. Alasdair turned his battle-scarred, bearded visage toward his eldest and managed a slight smile.

           "My son..." He spoke as if breathing were difficult. "You are now the lord of Tioramir, and the largest portion of my realm."

           Tears sprang to Dunmor's eyes.

           "Please, Father, do not speak that way---"

           "Do not interrupt me, Son," Alasdair closed his eyes and took another ragged breath. He opened his eyes and looked steadfastly at Dunmor. "Do you swear to rule with honor and fidelity, with every action paying homage to your fathers and the God of Heaven?"

           Dunmor's visage, as war-scarred as his father's, but warmer and sadder, clouded with grief.

           "Yes, Father," he said surely, but his voice was not steady. Alasdair glanced past Dunmor. Bhaird took a small breath and his muscles readied to take Dunmor's place beside his father.

           "Oleron," Alasdair said. Bhaird stopped, disconcerted. He turned quickly to his younger brother. Oleron, just as surprised, blinked several times before moving forward. Bhaird stepped back, out of the way, fighting the feeling of offense that rose within him. Dunmor moved to back away as well, but Oleron rested a firm hand on his older brother's broad shoulder, knelt down close beside him and clasped both Dunmor and Alasdair's hands in his.

           "Yes, Father?" Oleron searched the older man's face. The old man smiled, reached up with his left hand and put it to the side of Oleron's face.

           "My dear son..." Alasdair sighed. "You, who have your mother's eyes...I am proudest of you."

           Dunmor cast his gaze downward. Bhaird just stood. Oleron's brow furrowed.

           "We have all striven to please you, my lord," he insisted. Alasdair's smile remained and he closed his eyes.

           "Yes, I know. But you have changed----changed in such a way that you have taught me many things. And you chose a wife! A wife that has brought so much happiness to all of us."

           Oleron's expression softened and he did not argue. Bhaird could see that Dunmor was pained by their father's comment, and only remained kneeling there because of the calm touch of Oleron's hand.

           "My precious, third son..." Alasdair whispered to Oleron. "You shall receive the western islands in my possession---Islay, Iona, Eilean Mor and Eilean na Comhailre---the ones you and I used to sail through when you were a lad." Alasdair's eyes caught a glint of fire. "Once you are established there, it should be easy work to take the other islands. Then you can truly enjoy them instead of worrying about your borders."

           "I shall enjoy them by remembering when we were there together," Oleron responded quietly.

           "Yes, yes, of course," Alasdair resigned, dropping his hand, his breaths beginning to rattle. "I need no oath from you. I know you shall accomplish what is honorable. Bhaird, come here."

           Stiffly, Bhaird knelt down, thinking that there was no room at the bedside. But then Oleron let go of his father and Dunmor's hands and opened his side to Bhaird. Bhaird edged in and Oleron put one arm softly around Bhaird's shoulders and one around Dunmor's. Alasdair's eyes became more intense this time and he regarded Bhaird from the depths of seriousness.

           "I bequeath to you, second son, a realm I have never seen. It is far away, across the sea, across the bridge that Finn MacCool built."

           Bhaird's brow furrowed and he leaned closer.

           "As you may know, my son, there is a land across the sea called Erin," Alasdair continued with difficulty. "There is a castle there in the county called Antrim, and its surrounding lands are vast. But there has not been one of the MacDomnhaill there for decades...I fear that all order has fallen to ruin." Alasdair spoke urgently. "I know that you will find a way to restore MacDonald rule to that savage place. Do you swear to rule with honor and fidelity, with every action paying homage to your fathers and the God of Heaven?"

           Bhaird could not speak for a long moment. Then finally, he nodded.

           "Yes, my lord. I do."  

           Alasdair let out a long, relieved sigh and smiled.

           "You all have been good to your father. You have served me faithfully." He reached up a shaking hand again and touched Oleron's cheek. His brow furrowed strangely. "I love you---do you know that? It is I who am honored to have had you with me..." He lowered his hand and it settled on the bed sheets. His eyes beamed on Oleron. And then he was gone. Bhaird blinked. Nothing dramatic had happened---the light had simply extinguished behind his father's eyes. Alasdair's body went still and silent.

           No one moved for a moment, and then Oleron made a strangling sound as if he had been struck. Dunmor shot to his feet and froze, his shoulders tightening, his brow twisting. Oleron covered his face with one hand and leaned down onto the bed. Bhaird backed away, shrugging off Oleron's arm, stood and marched out of the room, leaving the door swinging open behind him.      

             "Bhaird? Bhaird!"

           He recognized Dunmor's voice through the blur in his mind but he did not stop pacing back and forth across the flagstones of the small, dimly-lit dining hall. Footsteps sounded hollowly in the corridor outside and then Dunmor appeared in the doorway, breathing hard.

           "Bhaird, why did you leave?" Dunmor asked raggedly.

           "What do you mean?" Bhaird snarled, stalking relentlessly, his head down. "We've been in that blasted room for two days now. The stale air was driving me mad."

           Dunmor seemed at a loss.

           "Oleron...Oleron thinks you are angry at him," he finally told him.

           Bhaird said nothing, just sharply kicked a dry piece of bread that the dogs had not found. Dunmor took a few steps into the room.

           "Are you?" Dunmor asked cautiously.

           Bhaird whirled, shooting his brother a steely look before returning his attention to his rapidly moving feet.

           "Should I be?"

           "No," Dunmor responded quietly.

           "Really?" Bhaird snapped with biting sarcasm. "And why not?"

           "He has done nothing to injure you," Dunmor gravely answered. Bhaird lifted his head and pointed viciously at Dunmor.

           "Exactly!" The speed of his pacing increased, but now he directed his tirade at his brother. "He has done nothing! How many times has he gone to battle for Father's causes? How many times has he captained ships for him? How many times has he met with enemies to see whether wars would begin or end?"

           Dunmor came silently closer and leaned sideways against the table, but Bhaird did not slow. His volume rose as his voice grew unsteady.

           "How many times did he take archery lessons? How many hours did he ride with him? How many often did he try so hard to please him that he ended up bruised or bleeding?" Bhaird gestured vehemently. "Oleron has done nothing! Not compared to you or me!" He stopped in front of Dunmor, his hands clenching into fists as he shouted. "Dunmor, I could have died for him! And Oleron always sat back here at Tioramir in Father's throne, eating grapes and whatever else and running gold through his fingers! All he did was flatter and contrive and...and get married---" Bhaird choked on that last bit, then let out a pained, shocked laugh, slapping his hands to his head. "And so, naturally, Father decides that Oleron is the one who inherits Islay and Eilean Mor and Eilean na Comhailne and Iona while I get some obscure piece of land across the ocean overrun by pirates and Gaels! And Oleron took no oath!" He flung his arm out in a despairing gesture, his voice at the edge of his control. He was shaking terribly. He turned his back on Dunmor and braced himself against the wall with his right arm, hanging his head. He swiped at his face. Dunmor approached him softly and stood near.

           "That isn't what is troubling you, is it, little brother?" he asked softly. Bhaird's brow tightened angrily and he lowered his head further.

           "What's troubling you," Dunmor sighed."Is that you think Oleron was the only one that he loved."  

           Bhaird could not speak for a long moment. Then, he finally managed.

           "Well? Is that not what it sounded like?" he said through clenched teeth. Then he heard someone shift his weight near the doorway.

           Bhaird stood upright quickly and turned around. Oleron was standing on the threshold, arms loosely at his sides, his face blank. Bhaird, trapped, felt a twinge of nausea, wondering how long his brother had been standing there. Oleron saw the turbulence on his brother's faces, for his expression of grief deepened. He shrugged helplessly and swallowed. He tried several times to speak, then shrugged again.

           "I..." He stopped a moment, for his voice was too unsteady. He took a sharp breath. "I'm sorry," he said simply. He stood for just another moment, then closed his hands into loose fists and cast his gaze at the ground. Hesitantly, he turned, as if waiting to be called back. Hearing nothing, he strode off down the hall. As his footsteps died away, Dunmor glanced at Bhaird, painfully chagrined. Bhaird said nothing in reply. Their hearts were too torn for them to move. Thus, they simply stood, their shoulders touching, as the single bell in the tower rang, signaling the death of the great MacDonald lord.

               Elinor lay in bed, staring straight up, watching the patterns that the twin candle flames cast on the red velvet canopy above her. The fire in the fireplace had smoldered down to embers, and the wide room, filled with comfortable furniture and pillows, seemed colder this evening. She shifted achingly and adjusted the covers so they were up around her shoulders. It was past midnight, she knew. But ever since she married, she could not sleep unless Oleron was by her side; especially when she knew he was in so much pain.

           The latch on the door across from the bed quietly worked. She sat up, brushing a strand of long hair behind her ear. The wooden door creaked softly open and she recognized Oleron's form within the shadows as he eased into the bedroom. She saw him lift his gaze and catch sight of her.

           "I didn't mean to wake you," he whispered apologetically.

           "I wasn't asleep," she assured him. He turned and shut the door, but his movements were limp and his shoulders sagged. Elinor felt herself tremble.

           "What happened?"

           He just stood, halfway turned, his hand on the latch. Elinor went cold. She threw off her blankets, stepped down onto the floor and padded softly toward him, her long nightgown whispering on the stones. She stood near him and urgently searched his dimly-lit face.

           "Oh, no," she murmured, her lip trembling. "He...He didn't..."

           Oleron bit his lip, then shook his head dumbly, leaning back against the door. Elinor could not speak for a long moment.

           "Oh, my sweetheart!" she finally gasped, reaching toward him. The effort was almost too much, but he accepted her brokenly, letting her wrap an arm around his neck and pull him to her. With quivering arms, he embraced her at last, then began to cry. She felt his hot tears against her neck and snuggled him tighter, stroking the back of his head.

           For an interminable time, the two remained there, rocking slightly back and forth. Then Elinor gently backed up, sliding her hands down his arms, and took his hands. She led him gently to the bed and urged him to sit on the edge. She then knelt, her hair spilling in a waterfall down her side, and slowly pulled off his boots.

           "Lie down." She touched his shoulder gently and he did as she asked, easing down onto his side. It was then she could see his tear-streaked face, and her heart broke.

           "Move over a little," she urged, trying to control her emotion, and he absently did so. She pulled the covers out from under his legs and draped them over him, then climbed in and lay on her side as well, her back to him. Without speaking, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in so she could feel his heartbeat against her back, the warmth of his arms all around her and his breath against her hair. She rested her hands over his, gently playing with his gold wedding band. Elinor could feel and hear him still crying almost silently, and she was so close that his sorrow swept over her until she could sense it in her muscles. Soon, burning tears of her own slid down her nose and face and she nuzzled closer to him. She did not speak, knowing that if he wished to talk, he would begin it.

           "My brothers are angry with me." His voice sounded so weak she barely recognized it. Her brow furrowed.

           "Why?"

           He took an unsteady breath.

           "Father bequeathed me several valuable islands in the west; his favorite islands. And he told me he loved me." His voice softened. "He only told me."

           Elinor swallowed, bewildered.

           "You mean...he did not say that he loved Dunmor and Bhaird?"

           Oleron was silent for a long time.

           "No."

           "I know he did love them, though," Elinor said quickly. "I could tell that he did, every day."

           "I know," Oleron agreed wearily. "But upon his deathbed...is not the time for a man to single out his favorite. It tends to...stick in a person's mind."

           Elinor groaned and closed her eyes briefly.

           "Yes, you're right. But I don't see why they should be angry at you." She fleetingly adjusted the bed covers. "You have nothing against them, do you?"

           "I love my brothers, Elinor," Oleron whispered, as if it was difficult. "They have no idea how much I love them."

           "I know that, too," she assured him. They were silent for a few minutes, allowing their tears to dwindle. Elinor took a deep breath.

           "I love you, Oleron, and I would never want to be anywhere without you," she began, her hand closing around the sheet. "But this is what is terribly frustrating for me about being here. When something like this happens, asking for a doctor is like delivering a death sentence. They don't even wash their instruments! Back home, we could have taken your father to the hospital, and they might have been able to do a surgery to repair his lungs or his back...But here; here, you can't do anything but wait to see if a man's own strength is enough to bring him through."

She shifted slightly. "I've thought about it before once or twice, in the middle of the night, and it scares me, Oleron. What if something were to happen to you---or me, or anyone---what would we do? What would we do if someone got cut or got sick or fell off his horse or slipped on the ice?"

           Instantly, she felt Oleron's arms tighten around her.

           "Don't say things like that, Ellie, please," he murmured earnestly. His voice stiffened. "What would I do if that happened to you?"  

           Realizing immediately that she had erred, and had instead increased is anxiety, she twisted gently so that she could see him, adjusting her shoulders so that their faces were only inches apart. She gazed at his worried countenance for a moment, then smiled tenderly, trying to be reassuring.

           "You would go back in time and rescue me," she whispered, running her forefinger across his eyebrow. "Just like you did last time."

           His eyes filled with emotion.

           "It doesn't work that way anymore, Elinor. You know that," he breathed. His eyebrows came together and his gaze searched her deeply. "Promise you'll never leave me."

           "I made that promise three years ago, Oleron," she reminded him steadily. "You do not need to worry. I am never going to leave you."

           She leaned toward him and kissed him gently, then snuggled down to rest her head against his heart. They did not speak any more, and neither could they sleep, for Oleron's spirit was too heavy with sorrow, and Elinor was determined to do all she could not to let him feel alone.  

               Bhaird threw another cloak into his trunk on top of his other belongings. This was his fourth chest to pack this long morning and he was thoroughly sick of such a chore.

           "My lord, you mustn't just toss it inside," Macy, a young household servant, chastised. "There'll be no room for more important things."

           "Leave me alone, Macy," Bhaird snapped. Macy stopped in the middle of folding the cloak and stared at Bhaird, wide-eyed.

           "My lord?"

           "Leave me!" Bhaird commanded, pointing at the door. "I am not a child---I can pack my own chests."

           Stunned, for Bhaird had never spoken that way, Macy managed to nod numbly.

           "Yes, my lord," he murmured, set the cloak down carefully into the chest and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Bhaird's jaw tightened, he screwed his eyes shut and leaned both hands down upon the bed. He hung his head.

           He could barely breathe. It had been weeks since his father's funeral, and still the pain had not subsided. Instead, it churned and snarled within him, pulsing through his veins and tightening his chest. He could not be rid of it. It followed him all through the hours of the night, keeping him awake, tying his bedclothes in knots. Deep in his heart, he simply wanted to collapse onto his bed and sob, but would not allow himself. He could not be so weak. He was a MacDonald lord now, not simply a second son.

           He rose up and paced about the bare, stone-floored room, for he found that if he stood still too long his throat would simply close, and the dark shadow that was his grief and rage would overtake him. Forcing his mind to focus, he cast his gaze about his chamber, trying to think of anything else he ought to pack. But he could not think. His emotions were too blinding.

           This morning, he was leaving Tioramir, the castle where he had been born. And what tore him was---he wanted to leave. He never wanted to see this place again. And Oleron, his brother---well, he never wanted to see him again either. Yet, much to his consternation, the two of them were to travel together in caravan south-westward, for both of their newly-inherited realms lay in that direction.  

           He turned and kicked the chest so that the lid slammed shut loudly.

           "Macy!" he bellowed. "That's the last one. Have someone come up here and haul it

down."

           With that, he turned and yanked on his riding boots, strapped on his belt and sword and threw a cloak over his shoulders. He pulled the door open just as Macy and two other servants were entering. He did not acknowledge them, but carelessly marched down the stairs, ignoring their stammers of "Pardon, m'lord," and silently worked at his cloak clasp. He passed a window in the corridor that had an open shutter. Scowling at it, he moved and closed it, darkening the hall and shutting out the sounds of the birds.

               The great entourage stood waiting in the yard. Each young lord had two wagons to bear their portion of household inheritance and treasure, and each was taking four servants and twelve guards. The gray morning was rather cold, and a mist had settled within the gentle slopes of the deep emerald hills. The forests were still shadowed in soft darkness, and only a few songbirds had ventured to wake so early, and so their tunes sounded lonesome. The twenty-five horses, however, were fully awake, for they had early sensed that the day of travel had arrived. Their hooves scraped the gravel of the yard, and when they snorted, halos of warm breath surrounded their heads.

           Bhaird, shutting the small, creaking door behind him as he left the castle, tugged his cloak tighter around his throat, his booted feet crunching the hard earth as he walked. Glancing up, he spotted Elinor helping to pack the wagons. She was clad in a dark red traveling dress and a brown cloak. Her hair hung loose, and her face appeared careworn and pale, but no less lovely. Bhaird's steps slowed, his brow furrowing. He had not seen her much these past two weeks---she had been too busy comforting Oleron.

           A dart of resentment shot through Bhaird. How could she not have realized that they all needed her feminine comfort---not only her husband? It was not as if they had a mother, or a nurse to speak soft words to the older brothers as they grieved. This past fortnight, Oleron had had Elinor to keep him warm during the night, to embrace him there and ease his pain. Dunmor and Bhaird had been alone in their own chambers, staring at the ceiling. And during the day, Elinor had walked back and forth with Oleron, sometimes disappearing for whole afternoons. She had rarely spoken to Bhaird. He tightened his jaw, refusing to consider why this made him so deeply angry.

           She pushed a rolled-up tapestry into a small space in the wagon, then turned and saw him. She dropped her hands and took a step toward him, but his countenance was not hospitable. Elinor stopped.

           "Hello, Bhaird," she said quietly.

           "Hello," he answered tightly, moving toward Falcon.

           "How are you?" she asked hesitatingly.

           "Well enough to ride," he replied. He avoided her gaze so that he would not see the hurt on her face and checked the cinch on his saddle. Falcon snorted in discomfort and stomped his front foot as Bhaird tightened it .

           "Shut up, you," Bhaird snapped harshly. "You are not going to be tossing me onto my back. Not today." His throat closed as images of his father toppling from his own horse flashed through his mind. His eyes shut tightly and he bit his cheek.

           "Bhaird..." Elinor murmured. "Are you..."

           "No, Elinor," he said shortly. "Never you mind." He stormed back toward the castle, terrible feelings pulsing through him. He should not have spoken like that to her or Falcon. Yet he could not think of what else he could have said.

           He had almost reached the small door again when it opened and Bhaird almost ran into Oleron. Oleron was dressed in his black riding clothes embroidered with red lions---a princely gift from their father. Oleron was even paler than Elinor, and the darkness under his eyes made him appear as if he had not slept the whole two weeks. Bhaird tightened. He had not spoken to his brother all this time. Oleron slowed to a halt, but appeared too weary to jerk in surprise. He tiredly lifted his bright, sad eyes to Bhaird's.

           "Where is Dunmor?" he wondered, almost apologetically. Bhaird shrugged, reluctant to trade words.

           "I do not know. I haven't seen him yet this morning."

           Oleron looked as if he wished to say something else, but Bhaird made sure his expression forbade it, and so Oleron only nodded, his eyebrows coming together, and cast his gaze down.

           "Oleron! Here is your horse."

           Oleron's head lifted quickly and he gazed past Bhaird. Bhaird turned to see Dunmor, clad in long black and their father's MacDonald tartan, leading Oleron's ebony stallion. Dunmor did not look much better than Oleron, but strength seemed to rest beneath his sorrow, for he also appeared to be bearing a great weight. Still, his brown eyes warmed, and he actually smiled at his brothers. Tears suddenly threatened Bhaird, but he fought them. Oleron brushed past him and approached the eldest brother.

           "Thank you, Dunmor," Oleron said sincerely, taking the reins. Reluctantly, Bhaird drew near as well, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elinor take a few steps toward them. Bhaird sensed that the servants and guardsmen were ready; they now stood by their horses and wagons and had picked up their loads. They only waited in silence for the brothers to give farewells.

           Oleron stood before his eldest brother, head bowed, holding the reins in both hands, as if he did not know what to do with them. He then lifted his eyes and met his brother's, for Dunmor was very tall. A startling tear ran down Oleron's white face.

           "I had not thought to say goodbye to you so soon," he choked. He dropped his head again and his hands tightened on the reins. "Dunmor...I am too young for this."

           Without restraint, Dunmor took his brother in his arms and pressed him close.

           "None of us could have seen this, little brother," he spoke into Oleron's hair. "But I was always certain you would be a great man." He stepped back and took Oleron by the shoulders, looking him directly. "I know that you will not disappoint me."

           Oleron's jaw and brow tightened painfully, but he nodded with conviction. After just a moment, Dunmor dropped his hands and Oleron turned to gaze at Bhaird. Bhaird stood, not knowing what to do. Dunmor reached out his right hand to him. Shakily stepping forward, not wanting to stand near Oleron, Bhaird came to Dunmor's side. Dunmor reached up and took Bhaird by the side of the neck and brought him closer. For a long while, neither said anything as Bhaird desperately fought the tide within him. Then, Dunmor pulled him into an embrace as well---an embrace so like their father's that the tide nearly broke through.

           "Do not resent your brother forever," Dunmor whispered so that only he could hear. "He does love you."

           Bhaird felt stung, but would never force himself out of Dunmor's arms. Thus, after a moment, Dunmor released him. Oleron was weeping now, his head low, and Dunmor's cheeks bore tears. Dunmor then glanced past his brothers and opened his arms to Elinor. She ran to him, her hair and cloak flagging behind her, and buried her face in his chest. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

           "I hate it so much that we'll all be apart," she gasped into his cloak. "It shouldn't be this way."    

           Dunmor took a deep, shaking breath.

           "I know," was all he said. After a long, helpless moment, Dunmor let her go. She turned and grasped Oleron's hand.

           "May I ride with you for now?" she asked, wiping at her tears. Oleron nodded wordlessly. A servant brought Bhaird's horse near and so he mounted it. Oleron got on his horse first, then helped Elinor on behind him. Elinor reached down to Dunmor and he grasped her hand.

           "We will not be kept from you," she insisted. "Especially in the summers! It will be hard for you to leave here, but we will manage to see you as often as we can."

           "Good," Dunmor said earnestly. "Good. I will look forward to your visits."

           Elinor released his hand and he came to stand by Bhaird's horse.

           "I want to see you again someday," he said solemnly.

           "You will," was all Bhaird could think of, for he had gone cold---before this, he had never realized how distant Ireland truly was. Dunmor knew his brother's doubt, but did not speak. He merely nodded and backed away. He stood for a long moment, casting his saddened gaze over the entire assembly. He then took a breath and spoke, and the voice of the new MacDonald lord, admittedly gentler than his father's, rang out through the morning.

 “May you see God's light on the path ahead When the road you walk is dark. May you always hear, Even in your hour of sorrow, The gentle singing of the lark. When times are hard may hardness Never turn your heart to stone, May you always remember when the shadows fall— You do not walk alone.”

             Biting his lip hard, Bhaird turned Falcon, and was the first to lead the grieving caravan out of the castle yard and onto the moors. He only looked back once, and when he did, he beheld the gray towers of Tioramir cutting the sky, and Dunmor, standing alone, one arm raised in farewell.

Chapter Two

"Stolen"

             They traveled several days across the wild and chilly highlands, camping in niches in the valleys or among birch trees, trying to avoid the wind that tumbled over the hills at night. The going was slow, because of the wagons, and it was difficult to find terrain smooth enough not to upset them. Bhaird silently left that task to Oleron. He grudgingly had to allow that, though Oleron had always been much inferior to him in swordsmanship and archery, he was much superior to him in horsemanship, tracking and scouting. But rather than admit this, and suggest that Oleron lead the way, Bhaird had merely fallen back in the ranks, and settled for glowering at his younger brother's back.

           The first three nights were sleepless as all the others had been, but by the fourth, Bhaird was so sore and exhausted that he did manage to slumber for a few hours. He had his own small tent, for which he was grateful, and a warm bed of furs. This night, the wind howled without, sounding like someone lost out on the moor. The only light came from a small fire that had been built within the circle of tents, but the thickness of the tarp clouded most of it. Other, perimeter fires had also been set, but those were far enough away that they did not disturb him either.

           However, he had slept through only one watch when his tent flap was pushed aside.

           "My lord."

           Bhaird groaned and put a hand over his face, shielding his shut eyes from the intruding glare of the fire outside.

           "My lord, your brother requests your presence. He is waiting for you by the south perimeter fire."

           "Tell him to jump off a cliff," Bhaird growled. The guard hesitated.

           "My lord?"

           "Never mind, Gaskin," Bhaird muttered angrily, throwing his warm blankets off himself, snatching at his cloak and tossing it around his shoulders.

           "He also requests that you bring your bow."

           Bhaird stopped and squinted at the bearded man, not certain he had heard him properly.

           "What?" Bhaird said hoarsely, rubbing his face."What for?"

           Gaskin shrugged.

           "I don't know, sir," he said honestly. "I did not ask."

           Bhaird groaned again, shook his head, and grabbed at his bow and quiver. He did not bother to sling them over his shoulder as he pushed past Gaskin and stomped out into the chilly night.

           The wind cut through him, even down in this valley, and he cursed at his brother for dragging him out of his warm, fur bed. Who did he think he was, anyway? Dunmor?

           Bhaird, slouching his shoulders, shuffled down through the deeply shadowed camp to one of the perimeter fires where Oleron was waiting. The fire stood almost alone---it was the farthest reaching finger of the camp. Through the darkness, Bhaird could distinguish Oleron's form, sitting on a log with his back to him. Pushing his hair out of his eyes, Bhaird approached the fire and stopped impatiently.

           "What is it, then?" he demanded.

           But his voice was cut off by a haunting wail that cut through the air. Bhaird stopped, stepping back quickly, his widened eyes darting about to search the forest beyond. Oleron turned his hooded head just slightly, and his blue gaze sliced across the distance between them.

           "Wolves," he murmured deliberately, before turning his icy attention back to the shades of the trees. "Have you not heard them?"  

           "No, frankly, I have not," Bhaird retorted, hating the fact that he had just shown his little brother a hint of fear. "I was actually sleeping for the first time in a month."

           Oleron ignored his tone, still staring into the blackness.

           "I shot at a few of them that came too near, but I believe I missed," Oleron said with almost eerie calmness, and it was only then that Bhaird noticed the bow that easily rested across Oleron's knees, and the quiver leaning on the log beside him. Bhaird raised his eyebrows.

           "Of course you missed," Bhaird could not resist jabbing. "When will you learn not to even try with that thing?"

           "That is why I sent for you," Oleron replied, not missing a beat, but still not looking at him. "I thought your bow might be useful."

           "Sent for me?" Bhaird barked, his temper finally getting the better of him. "You? Sent for me? I am the elder, here! Why should you be summoning me?"

           Oleron turned to him and cocked an eyebrow.

           "Because you were asleep and I was awake. Because I heard the wolves and you did not," Oleron stated. "Because I was out here and you were up there. And because you can shoot and I cannot."

           Fury rushed through Bhaird's whole body, but as a result he became utterly mute. Oleron turned from him, back to the woods.

           "But if you would rather go back to bed, feel free." Subtle sarcasm entered his voice. "I cannot see what would hold you here."

           Just then, three wolves joined in a chorus of howling---and they did not sound particularly far away. Bhaird stared at his brother. When Gaskin had first told him that Oleron was sitting by one of the perimeter fires, Bhaird had naturally assumed that his little brother was afraid to be out here alone. But now, watching Oleron with narrowed eyes, Bhaird did not get that sense at all. Oleron appeared completely calm, alert and still, an almost wolfish aspect of his own possessing his countenance. Also, the golden firelight accented a deep impact scar on Oleron's cheekbone---a scar that Bhaird had somehow formerly missed. Whatever his brother was, he was not afraid. Bhaird swallowed, trying not to show his disconcertion.  

           Grudgingly, Bhaird strung his bow, then eased forward and sat on another log across from Oleron. Neither of them spoke a word for hours as the ethereal night sounds of the menacing wood surrounded them. Oleron remained almost still, except for his ever-vigilant eyes.

           A branch snapped and dropped away from the fire, tumbling onto the ground near Bhaird's feet. Bhaird bent down and tossed it back into the crackling flames, causing the light to flare up and once more highlight Oleron's scar.

           "Where did you get that?" Bhaird found himself questioning. Oleron glanced at him inquiringly, and Bhaird tapped his own cheekbone. The right side of Oleron's face twitched slightly, and he turned away.

           "I got hit in the face."

           "With what?" Bhaird pressed. Oleron did not answer for a moment.

           "A fist."

           Bhaird blinked. He did not remember Oleron ever participating in a fight.

           "What? When was that?"

           Unexpectedly, Oleron smiled, as if he simply could not help himself. He actually chuckled.

           "Never mind. It really does not matter."

           Bhaird glared at him. He absolutely hated the way Oleron talked; as if he was some prince of men instead of just the spoiled third son of a lord---and his younger brother. Such insolence wiped all curiosity from Bhaird's mind. He turned his shoulders away from his brother, casting his attention out toward the beasts.

           Perhaps Oleron's arrows had frightened them earlier, or perhaps the presence of two armed men by the fire now was more intimidating. Whatever the reason, the wolves did not venture near again. By the time dawn arrived, their shadowy presences had faded away like wraith with the coming of the light.

             The next day, they arrived at the halfway point: the tumbling, roofless walls of a long-abandoned church. The caravan quieted as they approached, gazing up at the silent, ivy-covered, dark gray stones and elegant, broken-down windows. Oleron called a halt for a rest and a meal.

           In the bustle that followed, Bhaird caught sight of Elinor gracefully dismounting, then gingerly approaching the ruins, drawing her cloak around herself. The look on her flushed face stilled him. Her expression held a mix of wonder and sadness, and almost reverence. Silently, and unbeknownst to anyone else, she slipped through the church door and disappeared. Without thinking, Bhaird followed her.

           His booted feet were quiet upon the lush grass and foliage, and no sound accompanied him but the slight flapping of the hem of his cloak. Hesitating just a moment, he ducked through the narrow, low door and entered the utter stillness of the church.

           The earth had long ago swallowed the paving and replaced it with thin, tender grass. Slate stones from the fallen roof littered the ground. The steel gray of the sky above almost gave the impression of their being inside, and the day was so still and cool that no breath of air moved his hair or clothes.

           He glanced to his left where stood a great, tall window, the top broken down. A risen part in the floor just beneath the window was the only indication of where the altar had been.

           Elinor stood up there, on the platform, not moving, her back to him. He slowed to a halt and stared at her, suddenly awkward. He had not spoken to her since he had snapped so harshly at her on the yard of Tioramir.  And now, the longer he was quiet, the stranger he felt. Should he speak, or go back out and leave her alone? However, despite his best efforts, he found he could do neither, and stayed rooted to the spot.

           A shaft of sunlight briefly cut through the clouds, shining through the main altar window. Elinor turned her head slightly, so he could just see her profile, and the sunlight lit her up, shining in a halo around her head and gracing the edges of her garments. She caught sight of him, turned a bit more and smiled at him, looking for all the world like every angel he had ever imagined. He was struck.

           Oh, heaven, he suddenly realized, his breath catching. I am never going to see her again.

           He managed a feeble smile in return, knowing he had gone pale. She did not seem to notice, but turned her attention back to the decaying walls. She took a few steps toward him, her cloak and train trailing through the ferns behind her.

           "What is this place called?" she inquired softly, reaching out to touch a large, fallen stone.            "I do not know its original name," Bhaird admitted, his voice slightly listless. "For as long as I can remember, it has been called Rewyn." He took a breath. "The Ruin Between."

           The clouds covered the sun again, and the shaft of brilliance vanished. At the same time, a cloud passed over Elinor's face, and she turned to him.

           "Between?" Elinor wondered. He glanced at her.

           "Between...well, on the road between Dunmor's castle...and Oleron's."

           Elinor's shoulders sagged a bit.

           "That is a sad sounding name."

           Bhaird shrugged.

           "That's what it is," he murmured, casting his own gaze over the walls. "What it was long ago is forgotten. What it is now is rocks piled on top of each other. What it could have been, had it not been neglected...no one will ever know. It has no purpose, no potential...no future." Suddenly, he found himself staring into her concerned, intent, dark eyes, and his throat threatened to close. But he made himself go on. "Nothing will ever come of it. So why give it a grander name?"

           Elinor watched him for a long moment; not harshly, but deeply, and Bhaird found himself unable to break her gaze. Finally, she did it, and turned to leave. He closed his eyes and did not turn. Wordlessly, almost as an afterthought, she kindly touched his shoulder. A painful thrill ran all down his body, and he barely heard her leave.

           He forced his eyes open, but otherwise did not move, and stared hatefully around at the falling walls, bitterly resentful about what all of this said about the brother between.

              Three days later, they arrived. It startled them. One moment, they were struggling up a terribly rocky hill---leading their horses, cursing at the wagon wheels, catching things that tumbled out---and the next they stood gazing at a tremendous, four-towered castle, hung with banners, and surrounded by verdant hills and a quaint, many-chimneyed village. Beyond the castle stretched the breathtaking, silver sea; and shrouded in the morning fog, several dark, lush, rocky islands raised their heads above the distant waves. All of it was lit by the rich, shimmering, fresh sunlight of morning.

           "Oleron..." Elinor murmured in awe, leading her mare to the top of the hill, her hair lightly tossed by the cool, moist breeze. "It's beautiful."

           "Do you like it?" Oleron panted, leading his own horse up, and shoving his hood back.

           "Oh, yes..." she breathed, quite overcome.

           "Well," he shrugged. "Then it's yours."

           She looked at him, and he winked. Then, the first real smile she had shown in a month lit up her entire face. Bhaird felt jealousy pierce through him and he glanced away.

           It took great, painstaking effort to slide and wind their way down that hill. Finally, they reached a treacherous, narrow road, but compared to the uneasy footing they were used to, this road was a Godsend. The horses, sensing an end to their long journey, began tugging at the reins, and the carts clattered with an almost happy noise as they proceeded down toward the village.

           The lovely place was called Karliblagh. Bhaird had visited it once, when he was young. It had not changed at all, and appeared every bit as grand as he remembered---perhaps more so, for now he could appreciate the hard work it took to maintain an estate such as this, especially so close to the sea, where Vikings and other pirates always threatened to raid.

           Their horses' hooves clattered against the hardened earth of the central road, and as they entered, peasants began to emerge from their houses, or look up from their work. Bhaird noticed that the people living here looked prosperous. Their small homes were well-kept, their gardens flourished, their clothes appeared reasonably clean and carefully mended, and the scent of baking bread hung in the air. The peasants' faces lit up with realization and expectation as they followed the caravan's approach, and all of them gasped when a herald atop one of the castle turrets let out a welcoming trumpet call.

           Oleron lifted his head and took a deep breath, something sparking in his eyes. He smiled, then glanced at Elinor, who returned the look of anticipation. Bhaird shut all emotion out of his face.

            They arrived in front of the castle, which sported an impressive moat. A guard, poised between two flapping banners, leaned down and shouted through cupped hands. His voice rang through the village.

           "Who goes there?" he bellowed.

           Oleron cupped his hands around his own mouth to answer.

           "I am Lord Oleron MacDomnhail, son of Alasdair, Lord of the Isles."

           "And what brings you here, Lord MacDonald?" the guard questioned.

           "Lord Alasdair is dead! He has divided his realm between his three sons, and given Karliblagh into my hands as an inheritance!"

           The guard looked shocked. Several other guards darted over to gaze down at them, and they conversed with one another. Finally, the first guard called down again.

           "My lord! The gate shall be opened to you! Steward Ramphail will greet you in the courtyard!"

           About a minute later, the great, black drawbridge was lowered, the mighty chains clanking against the gears. With a final rumble, it nestled into the earth on the other side of the moat, making a wide enough bridge for the caravan to cross.

           The horses found this prospect slightly spooky, but in the end they entered the castle unscathed.

           Despite his foul mood, Bhaird had to marvel at the towering gray walls of the large courtyard. The windows in the walls were fairly large, and many servants were now hanging out of them at the prospect of catching a glimpse of their new master. The wain wheels and horse hooves clattered loudly against the stone, and every noise echoed. The servants chattered excitedly amongst themselves, filling the space with cheerful sound.

           "My lord!"

           Their attention was arrested by a finely-dressed, middle-aged, bearded man striding toward them. Without hesitation, he fell to one knee in front of Oleron, his right fist to his heart.

           "My lord, I am Ramphail, son of Laridhon, Steward of this castle and this township." He raised his head to smile broadly. "I met you when you were a boy---I doubt you recognize me, but I would know your face anywhere. Your father was my good friend." He took a deep breath. "It is my great pleasure to present and return to you the castle and realm of Karliblagh."

           Oleron dismounted and quickly bid the steward to rise. Oleron reached out his hand, and, after a moment's hesitation, Ramphail grasped Oleron's elbow. Oleron returned the grip, looking supremely serious.

           "Though the conditions which deliver this place to me grieve me deeply," Oleron said quietly. "I am relieved and comforted to find that Karliblagh has been cared for so diligently."

           Ramphail was delighted, and once Oleron had introduced Bhaird, Elinor, and his leading knights, Ramphail took a few rolls of official papers from Oleron and bid them all inside.

           Bhaird stiffly dismounted, and reluctantly allowed a stable boy to take the reins of his weary animal. Trying to walk straight and not wince or rub his back, for Oleron did not seem to be having any trouble, Bhaird followed Oleron and Elinor through the courtyard and through the towering, main oaken doors, which hung open to let in the light and the morning breeze.

           A narrow dimly-lit hallway suddenly opened up into a grand hall---and with it a black hole opened up in Bhaird's heart.

           The hall was incredible. Strong, thick pillars reached their towering fingers upward until they branched into graceful archways in the ceiling. Flags bearing the MacDonald crest draped from polished flagpoles. Two giant, square fire-pits in the floor were alight with cheerful, welcoming flames that filled the hall with warmth. The scent of a feast---game hen, pheasant, potatoes and bread, at least, if Bhaird was not mistaken---wafted out from a back room. And if he listened, he could hear the kitchen maids bustling and bickering and clattering unseen.

           Then he lifted his head---and slowed to a halt. The others kept going, but he paid them no notice as everything but the sight before him faded into the background.

           It was a throne. No---two thrones.

           They stood on a raised platform; ancient, sturdily built and simply grand, one slightly taller than the other. The wooden seats were draped with exotic fur, and behind the thrones, on the masoned wall, hung several war-scarred shields---shields of the great warriors and lords that had lived and defended in this place.

           Bhaird's mind reeled at the thought of what legendary and mighty lords had sat upon that throne, reaching back to ancient days. His fathers---his kin---had held this place with the strength and will of oxen, and had made it glorious.

           And now---Oleron would sit there. Oleron.

           Bhaird's blood ran cold.

           And Elinor.  

           "Bhaird?"

           Bhaird jerked at the sound of his brother's voice. Oleron had called stopped the others, and now had faced him worriedly.

           "Are you well?"

           "Yes," Bhaird lied stiffly. "Yes, I am fine."

           Neither Elinor nor Oleron looked convinced, but Ramphail began to speak again, telling Oleron all about the grand hall, and using the words "my lord" in every sentence. Bhaird made himself catch up to them as they gradually gave their attention back to the steward.

           "Servants shall be assigned to both of you personally," Ramphail explained. "And you, my lord," he nodded at Bhaird. "Shall also receive servants that will attend you during all the length of your stay."

           "That will not be necessary," Bhaird said flatly. They all turned to face him, confused.

           "I am afraid I do not understand," Ramphail admitted. Bhaird looked at him.

           "My entourage and I will stay for the morrow. The following morning we will depart for Ireland."

           "Surely, after such a long journey, you wish to recover yourself before you set out again! Especially before journeying to Ireland!" Ramphail exclaimed.

           "There is nothing to recover," Bhaird answered simply. "I refuse to trespass upon my younger brother's hospitality any longer than that. I am certain he has more important things to attend to than entertaining me."        

           Silence fell. And then deep hurt registered on both Elinor and Oleron's faces. Bhaird ignored it.

           "Now, if you please, could you show me to my quarters?" he asked, drawing himself up like the second son and lord that he was.

           A servant arrived the instant Ramphail motioned with his finger, and Bhaird turned and swept along behind him to ascend the stairs to his quarters. He could not possibly stay here any longer than a day. He could not bear the sight of this masterly castle---the castle that should have been his.      

              Elinor could not sleep. Oleron was in too much pain. She glanced over at him. Even as he lay there asleep, a shaft of moonlight gracing his face, his brow was furrowed. The way he rolled and tossed also told her that his dreams were just as bad as the sentiments he had expressed all evening.

           They had talked and talked, and neither of them could understand what had happened to Bhaird. It distressed Oleron so badly. He had tried so very hard, after coming back from his incredible journey, to make peace with his brothers, and to show them how much he had come to love them and their home. But that night, Oleron told Elinor that he had surely failed.

           Besides this fact, they were sleeping in an unfamiliar castle, in a bed that was not their own---and Oleron would have been inexpressibly grateful to have his older brother there to help him break into the lordship.

           Elinor turned her head and gazed out the tower window. What had happened to Bhaird? Setting her jaw, she realized that there was truly only one way to discover that. Cautiously, making sure not to disturb her husband, she slid out of bed, wrapped a robe around herself and slipped silently out of the grand chambers.

           She had a fairly good sense of direction, but this castle was vast and spooky in the darkness of night. However, she remembered a secluded section of the roof that Ramphail had shown them, and tried to find her way there. If she knew Bhaird at all---though that truth was uncertain, now--- he would have found his way there if he also could not sleep.

           At last, she arrived just at the door that led out onto that part of the roof. She hesitated a moment, then pulled it open, just a hair.

           She was right. He stood out there, facing the dark hills beyond. If she had not looked carefully, she might have thought it was Oleron. They were built much the same, and their hair was equally dark. But she knew how different Bhaird was from his younger brother. Bhaird’s clean-shaven countenance was not so serious, and his face not so aquiline. His shorter hair was boyishly disheveled, as always, and his mouth and Oleron's were dissimilar. Bhaird's mouth was wry, and was formed more gently than Oleron's. Elinor knew he was handsome, as his brothers were, but it was his eyes, really, that made him so unique among them. They were a warm, open brown; reflecting pools for his heart that simply sparkled.

           At least, they had sparkled, once upon a time.

           Taking a deep, saddened breath, Elinor pulled harder on the creaking door and stepped out into the night air. 

Read this book: https://www.amazon.com/Riddle-Walker-Weaving-Time-Book-ebook/dp/B071G1B6DQ/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1572895982&sr=8-1-fkmr0

[ritacaroline]

Starshine                   Ch. 57       Jimmy Page   Fan Fiction

Carla had been really enjoying her time with Julian. He was crazy in love with her and they had been spending every waking hour together.

 They couldn’t get enough of each other’s body. Except for while they were at work. Carla was a veterinarian’s assistant. She loved horses tremendously and dogs as well. She was very loving toward the animals through her work and she was cherished by the vet. He noticed her skill at calming the animals when they were anxious and frightened, by use of her nurturing gentle ways.

Carla also loved horseback riding. The vet kept several of his own horses at his stables at home. He allowed Carla the privilege of coming by any time she pleased and take any horse she wished for a ride out on the trails. He had a few employees, feeding and grooming the horses on a regular basis and they all knew Carla well.  Dr. Leary in fact liked having Carla come and exercise the boys and girls. It kept them happy and in good shape. She introduced Julian to the activity

 of horse riding. He hadn’t been too crazy about animals in general, but Carla was so enthusiastic, that he was way willing to give it a try. She set him up with one of the boys - Brasswhiskers. Her personal favorite horse was a girl named Shawn. Carla and Shawn were a great match for each other. They were quite in tune and extremely connected. Shawn almost instinctively knew what Carla needed her to do, and so quickly too. It was a smooth ride when the two were a team. Julian tried so hard to get to know Brass, a gorgeous reddish brown stallion. And sure enough, it wasn’t long till they also became a force to be reckoned with. Julian began to love the interaction between himself and the very intelligent horse. And he began to love the wind in his hair and the fresh air streaming through his lungs. This new part of his life really rejuvenated him and his new lovelife with the girl of his dreams had him ablaze with life. Julian had never been happier in his lifetime. And Carla really loved making passionate love to him constantly, with which he couldn’t have loved more. He was just ecstatic in his highly physical and newfound satisfied state. He had never been so in love before. And he just reveled in Carla’s touch. 

They had just returned to his place, on their day off, after an exhilarating ride through the trails at Leary’s stables. They each washed up, to get the horsey smell off. Now fresh and clean, Julian had a ruddy look on his face and looked straight out of a commercial for leather boots or such. He was glorious. Blond hair bouncing as he walked. Strong woodsy outdoorsy appearance really suited him. Carla was awestruck by his new rugged persona. And he felt alive. He took her in his manly arms and began kissing her lips with fervor, like a man with a purpose. They were consistently in love mode, and Carla didn’t remember the word no anymore. The answer was yes, yes please. She adored not only Jules, but his talents as well. He lifted her up, bridal style and carried her into his bedroom as though she was light as a feather. He laid her down on his bed and began stripping off his clothes. It was the sexiest view this side of Jupiter. 

 When the shirt came off, his bulging biceps were a scorching site. The shoulders, my oh my. He was built for hot melting love. The gorgeous flat muscular tummy too, had Carla drooling. Once in his boxers, he lay down gently next to her and began slowly taking her clothes off, and she was tingling with delight, couldn’t wait. He smelled so clean and woodsy and she just craved his delicious body. He was kissing and licking her neck, with his large hands all over her body. Feeling her, caressing her. Carla was giggling and moaning as he touched her in all his favorite places, as he was making sex sounds from deep inside his throat. He massaged her belly and her hips with a firm touch, then lowered himself down low and began licking and nibbling her at her secret private places, which she told him now belonged to him. He couldn’t be more appreciative upon hearing this news. And took it as encouragement to adore and pleasure her as often as he possibly could. He said that he needed to take extra great care of his belongings. He took a lot of time to give Carla the sensations and the explosive tingling jolts of thrill that he felt she deserved. And she was in pure crazy bliss as he did so. And the level of his delight, when he saw her in passionate agony, at her peak, with her throat way back and mouth open in complete joy, throbbing in pleasure, well,…. it made his life worth living. He was extremely talented and driven with his tongue and lips. And could spend hours tasting and manipulating her if she let him. But usually she would say enough, after he had caused her about two or three raging orgasms. She just hoped for energy for the ultimate love making he offered her afterwards. There was no end to his ability, his energy. He could go on and on all night. Carla told him he was the lover of a lifetime. Of which he couldn’t hear often enough. It was a glorious song to his ears. Her moaning was a sound that fueled his fire. That was exactly what he had set as his goal, to become for her. Anything she needed, he wanted to be right there, to provide it for her.

He had been inside her, driving her insane, for quite awhile now, as she clenched onto him, writhing in bliss, beneath him. Finally he hit the end of his rope with a long moan and frantic shuddering. He leaned his head down, forehead against her right shoulder and his juices flooded into Carla. He was saying softly, “Oh my Carla, my love. My love. What you do to me. I’m in paradise in your arms. Holding me tight with your legs around me. It’s unbelievable, my angel.” She was nearly cross eyed by now, dissolved into lava now as a result of reaching her peak at least 5 times since they began.  And he still felt it wasn’t enough, but it was all she could take, she insisted. Any more and she told him she was going to fall apart and never be able to function again. At that statement, they both began laughing their heads off and couldn’t stop. He pulled himself away, kissed her many times on her tender mouth. He said he felt peaceful and satisfied to a fault right then. And he jumped in for a fast shower, sticky as hell.

_______________________________________

Next chap. 58 :  https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/188709530296/starshine-ch-58-jimmy-page               

Chapter Index for “Starshine” is located at bottom section of Ch.1 ,  click here :

https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/184383708541/starshine-ch-1-jimmy

Link to “In The Light” - original fan fic -https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/173286165501/in-the-light-jimmy-page-fan-fiction

JimJam Mistresses :      @tremble-and-shake @ledoftherings @gimmeeshelter @adonna1964 @justanotherzosofangirl @starchild0985 @girlofthemoon75 @bonscottintheimpala @12909168 @jjullz @cherryfloyd @tenementcrazylittlefruitcake @save-me-from-the-gallows-pole @soy-laprincessa @marauderofworlds @ultrabitchystudentperfectionus @satanspizzadeliveryguy @misspenylane @zi-zidane @catherine0627 @pagingpage-the-original @amythesticon @strangerspassinginthestreet @ thezeppelinbeatles @pour-some-sugar-on-mee @carryfire18 @j-james-thlk @70shoney @strange-broo @page-daddy @nadianad1337 @yerawizardjimmeh @jimmyypagey @magnetacuddles84 @rock6880 @ledxzeppelin @kinkyspice @thelandofnevermore @my-golden-lion @itsblackbetty @luvejimmy @palenickelsaladparty @jennmarieetn @honeydewgroupie @how-many-more-times-blog @loveinher-eyess @rocknrollababes-blog @princesssofpeace @frauweide @dontyouhearmecallingyou @zozjaa @miniaturewinnerwonderland @http-jinx @chennington @venicebeachx @wanna-be-groupie @where-the-hot-springs-blow @basementmermaid @crying-over-rock-legends @cherrrywitch @scarletrossetti @sixpackonthefrontseat @miamorjimmypage @jimmypageismylife @pennylane1968 @jlmmypage

*Please advise if you would like to be tagged or untagged

[amityuniversitydubai]

Bachelor of Arts in Film and Television Production- Amity University Dubai

Most people adore actors and laud on-screen presences. However, a lot goes on behind the scenes in making movies. A significant responsibility of making a good film lies on its filmmakers. If you are an aspiring filmmaker and want to hone your skills and learn more, you need to pursue a BA in Film and Television. Amity University, Dubai, is one of the best universities where you can pursue Film and Television courses. With formal education, you learn the nuances of good filmmaking and bag jobs that can use your skills and expertise.

 Film and Television Production Program Details

 The Film and Television Production Program by Amity University, Dubai, spans 3 years divided into 6 semesters. Over these semesters, the students explore the depths of skills required for production. Through its well-designed curriculum, the students learn the academic and the technical side of film and television production. 

 Since the program is for the undergraduate level, the criteria to secure an admission at the University is to have scored a minimum aggregate of 50% in grades X and XII from a CBSE-board school or its equivalent. The fees for this course start from AED 45,000 + 5% VAT annually. 

 Why Choose this field?

 By pursuing a Film and Television Production university course, you can build up on the good, old art of storytelling and bring your imagination to life! Professional training helps you enhance conceptual understanding and develop creative skills.

 The Film and Television Production program at Amity University, Dubai, is designed to help you gain a deeper insight with hands-on exercises and practical experience in scriptwriting. You learn everything from film shooting, directing, lighting, editing, audio design, and post-production to VFX designing. 

 Amity University offers exclusive programs for future success

 You can now turn your daydreams of success in Film and Television Production into reality with Amity University, Dubai! The carefully curated course sticks to an industry-relevant curriculum to equip the students to become noteworthy stallions of the Film and Television industry tomorrow.

 Owing to the University’s attempt at creating a pathway to success in the field, the students have been able to gain exposure through meaningful internships and placements in places in the Dubai Studio City and the Dubai Media Production. The majority of the students also grab opportunities to excel by participating in competitions and workshops held by the International Film and TV Festivals.

 With this mindfully curated course, the students can learn exceptional skills in places like Radio and Recording Studio, TV and Recording Studio, television broadcasting, and hence master the art of visual communication.

 Specialization in Film and Television Industry

 Since this course at the University looks to honing exceptional skills in students, they can learn a myriad of them and finally pick the career of their choice in this vast field. The course covers a range of skills like Screen Acting, Sound Design, Editing and VFX, Screen Writing, Cinematography and Direction, and much more.

 Pursuing a course in Film and Television Production from Amity University, Dubai, will help you set a firm path for your career in the field by equipping you with all the essential skills and exposure. 

 People Also Ask

 1.What is a Bachelor of Arts in Film Production?

 A Bachelor of Arts in Film Production is a degree that equips you with all the necessary skills for Film and Television Production. You get to learn everything from Screen Writing to Cinematography and Direction.

 2. What is a Film and TV Production degree?

 A degree in Film and TV Production enables the student to gain hands-on experience in the various aspects of production. It helps up-skill in both the academic and technical dimensions of Film and TV Production. The degree includes a range of topics like- Sound and Design, Editing, Cinematography, and much more.

 3. What degree is good for film production?

 If you are looking to pursue a full-time career in the Film and Television industry, you should pursue a Bachelor of Arts in Film and Television Production. The course covers all the nuances of the field and helps you hone your skills. Amity University, Dubai, is one of the best institutions in the UAE where you can pursue this course.

 4. What can I do with a Television Production degree?

 When you choose Film or Television Production as your career path, there are numerous specializations that you can choose per your interest. Some options can be Screenwriting, Cinematography and Direction, VFX Design, Editing, and much more.

 5. How do you become a film producer in TV?

 Storytelling is an art. And if you have the talent to display this art, becoming a film producer can be a promising career. However, if you want to hone your skills and bring out the best through professional training, pursuing a Bachelor of Arts in Film and Television Production is the way.

[icewraiths]

I wrote a thing about how Drusi ended up with her Jorvik Warmblood. .-.

(This takes place in the same AU with Ren and the kelpie, albeit earlier in the timeline. The events here happen about a year prior to Encounter.)

Drusi made her way out to the Moorland paddocks, fetching Firewind from his pasture. Leading him back to the yard, she groomed him, tacked him up, and retrieved her helmet. She had been tasked with exercising him for the day--apparently, his owner, Julie, couldn't be arsed to work with her own horse. Not when she had her father's money to spend at the mall, that was.

Firewind seemed to be in fine mettle. He was nearly prancing in place as Drusi led him out to the riding arena. She noticed another of the Bobcat girls--Stephanie, she surmised--already longeing a dark chestnut horse at one end of the arena. It was "In the Spirit of Danger", or just "Danger", as he was known around the yard. Everyone at Moorland Stables knew him as that one horse; he was extremely talented, but unfortunately also a complete shithead. Drusi hadn't been allowed to work with him yet. He was notoriously difficult to ride, but he could perform well if given strict directions. The lass could only guess that that was the reason Thomas Moorland bothered keeping the stallion around--he placed well in competitions, if only under particular circumstances.

Drusi intended to longe Firewind at the opposite end of the arena, well out of Stephanie and Danger's way. She noticed that the other girl was having trouble. Danger was tossing his head, nearly yanking the line out of the other girl's hands. Steph had her heels dug into the dirt, fighting with him and trying to get him back into a reasonably working frame.

Drusi decided it wasn't her problem if the other horse was acting up. She let herself and Firewind into the arena, closing the gate behind them. She retrieved the extra longe line and clipped it to the outside ring of Firewind's bit before sending him out at a trot on a twenty metre circle.  

After a few minutes, Drusi paused and called Firewind back to her so she could change the clip on the bit and switch directions. As she did so, she realized the situation with Danger and Stephanie had escalated. The stallion was cantering sidelong towards their corner of the arena. His eyes were rolling, and he was nearly dragging poor Steph off her feet.

Drusi hesitated, leading Firewind towards the opposite rail and out of the way.

"Need any help over there?" She queried. Just barely, she heard Steph curse under her breath.

"Um, I don't think you're allow-" Stephanie started to answer, but the stallion cut her off with another hard tug on the line. Drusi looked on in a quiet sort of amusement; Steph was going to be feeling that one in her shoulders tomorrow. "You know what? Yeah. I'll trade you. I'll take Firewind, you deal with this. I don't care anymore."

Drusi left Firewind standing quietly in the opposing corner of the arena, and then sidled past Danger into the longeing circle with Steph. The exhausted, pink-clad blonde practically threw the longe line and whip at Drusi before storming away towards Julie's much better behaved horse.

Once the line was securely in her grasp, Drusi snapped it to grab the stallion's attention. Fortunately, Steph had set him up in a halter for longeing, which meant that she wouldn't have to worry about changing the clip every time they switched directions.

Danger didn't care for any kind of opposition; he laced his ears back and winged a cow-kick in Drusi's direction.

"Hey! Knock that off!" Drusi snarled at him, flicking the whip after his hocks so that it popped audibly just behind him. The stallion started away from the sound, unaccustomed to being held accountable for his actions.

He was precisely the kind of horse that used to terrify Drusi as a little girl--reactive, challenging of authority, and overall difficult. She knew better now, though. Years of lessons and training and stablework had given her a fairly solid backbone.

She feinted towards the stallion's hindquarters, whip in hand, then backpedaled quickly without turning her back to him. Danger was caught off guard by this--exactly as Drusi predicted he would be--and he turned to face her, coming to a complete stop with his ears pricked forward.

The stallion snorted loudly, adrenaline quickening his breath.

Drusi waited. She wished she knew this horse's tells. It would make this process go much more quickly, but she could improvise if need be.  

Danger grew bored of standing and waiting for Drusi to move, so he pinned his ears and tried to take off at a canter again. The girl followed, holding firm to the line and stalking after him in an arc like a predator on the hunt. She kept her eyes on his flank, and she held her whip pointed towards his haunch as well. The tension on the longe line combined with the pressure she was putting on the stallion's hindquarters with her stare and her whip and her posture forced Danger into a tighter circle. She chased him until his hind legs crossed and he was forced to stop, facing her again. She immediately stood upright, turning the whip away and releasing the "pressure" she'd been keeping on his hind end.

The stallion snorted again, but this time, he lowered his head and stretched his muzzle towards Drusi.

Good.

The lass loosened her hold on the line a little.

"Are you ready to pay attention yet, or do we have to keep playing your stupid little games?" Her eyes met his. She grinned, keeping her stance solid and sure. "I can do this all day, pal. Try me." The stallion's posture relaxed, just slightly, and the hard line of his mouth softened. Perhaps he'd seen something in her gaze, or heard something in the tone of her voice, but the horse seemed to realize that Drusi was not one he should waste his time arguing with.  

Danger licked his lips, sighing.

"Nice job. Now, trot." Drusi stepped back, using the angle of the whip to drive the horse out on the circle at a working trot. Danger obeyed, trotting along with a slight spring in his step.

She exercised him at a walk, trot, and canter in both directions for no more than ten minutes; if the horse was listening, she'd take what she could get and quit while she was ahead. She cooled Danger out at a walk before asking him to stop.  

Drusi approached the black chestnut stallion. He was properly tired now, and his neck was darkened with sweat. She reached out to pat him on the shoulder--his hide was sleek and almost glassy. It seemed as though some great unnatural heat roiled just beneath the surface of his skin. The lass moved her hand to the horse's neck, to his back, and to his legs. The odd heat was everywhere, causing her to worry he might be ill.

Puzzled, she turned back towards the stallion's face. He was watching her, his eyes a deep firey amber. He blinked slowly. Something about his expression was distressingly familiar, though Drusi could not place how.

"Hey," Stephanie called from across the arena. "I don't know how you got him to behave, but good going. I'm done longeing Firewind, is it okay if I ride him now?"

Drusi had forgotten that Stephanie and Firewind and Moorland had even existed.

"Yep, you are good to go. By the way, is Danger sick? He feels warm to me."

"I'm sure he's fine," Steph replied, pulling down the stirrups on Firewind's saddle before mounting up. "You can ask someone to check him over back at the yard if you're worried."

Drusi decided she would do just that. She led the stallion back to the yard, and thankfully, he did not put up any sort of a fuss. She passed her friend, Renata, just as she was about to return Danger to his stall. Ren was apparently on mucking duty that afternoon; the girl was just finishing up with shoveling fresh shavings into the last of the stripped boxes. The pale-haired girl appraised Drusi with a small amount of admiration as she led the stallion into his stall.

"They let you work with Danger? You're brave." Renata paused from her work, leaning on the handle of her shovel. If Drusi hadn't known her better, she might have mistaken Ren's tone as scoffing.

"Not exactly," Drusi said, sliding the halter off over the stallion's ears. "Steph was having trouble with him, so I offered to help. I made sure he listened to me."

"I'll say. Power to you. I don't even like having to turn that one out, he tries to run me over every damn time."

"He assumes he is in charge by default. You have to tell him otherwise." Drusi looped the lead back around Danger's neck, so he couldn't move away from her in the stall. "Would you mind coming in here for a second? He feels off to me. He doesn't seem lame, but his legs are hot, and that's usually not a good sign."

Ren's brows knitted together in concern.

"That... doesn't sound so great. I'll come look him over. You have a good hold on him, right? I don't want him trying to kick me, or anything."

"He's not going anywhere," Drusi replied.

Renata let herself into Danger's stall. The stallion shuffled a bit as she did so, but Drusi tightened her hold on the lead to remind him to stand still. Ren eyed the stallion warily, but reached down to feel his near-side foreleg for heat or swelling. When the pale-haired girl stood upright again, she opened her mouth as though to comment on something, but she stopped mid-breath and her expression blanched.

"What is the matter?" Drusi pressed. "Is something wrong?"

Ren seemed to fumble a bit, taking a moment to find her voice. She definently lived up to her reputation as one of the weirder girls in Moorland's JEI summer program. Drusi was one of the few who had the patience to tolerate her quirks, and she had even stood up for the girl a few times when the Bobcats and their ilk had started gossiping about her.

"Sorry," Renata said, finally. "He doesn't seem warm or lame to me, but there is something definitely off about him. I'll go get Jenna." With that, she darted out of the stall, disappearing from view before Drusi could ask her what she meant.

As promised, Ren returned with Jenna moments later. Jenna was no vet, but she'd been working at the yard long enough to know the tells of equine illness or colic.

Danger's legs were inspected, as well as his hooves, pulse rate, gut sounds, and temperature. Jenna found nothing unusual about him.

"This fellow seems perfectly all right to me," Jenna told them. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention, though. I'll keep an eye on Danger tonight when I'm doing the last bit of chores around the yard." She patted Drusi on the shoulder, thanking her again before departing.

Drusi pressed her hand to Danger's shoulder again. The warmth was still there, as though some unbound energy was coiling within him. She left the stallion's stall, where Renata was waiting for her.

"Am I losing my mind?" Drusi asked. "I saw his temperature reading for myself, and Jenna even showed me how to listen to his heartbeat and gut sounds with the stethoscope. Everything checked out as normal. But he still feels off to me if I lay hands on him at all."

Renata had her arms crossed; her expression indicated she was very deeply lost in thought. Without looking Drusi in the eye, she responded.

"You aren't losing your mind. Jenna may be right, though. Danger's probably fine. However," Ren paused, glancing up to look at her friend. "I think you should ask Thomas to assign him to you as your horse for the rest of the summer. I know that you and Whisper make a good team, but... I don't know. Just ask. I think you would be good for him. I think he might be good for you, too."

Drusi looked at her doubtfully, taken aback by Ren's suggestion entirely. The pale-haired girl was usually cautious and more than a little bit timid. To tell Drusi to do something about her assigned horse--in no uncertain terms, at that--was uncharacteristically upfront for her.

"What makes you say that?"

Renata was quiet for several beats.

"I... I have a good feeling about it, I suppose. That's all I can say." She shrugged, her gray eyes distant.

Drusi sighed, sinking her shoulders a little. Quirky as she may be, Ren was still her friend, and there was little harm in trusting her on this.

"You are right, it probably won't hurt to ask Thomas to make a slight change to the summer roster. Worst that can happen is that he says no, and even then, it's only my pride that would be getting bruised."

Ren nodded.

"Exactly. Well, I've got to go finish readying the boxes. I still have to make sure all the water buckets are topped off." With that, Renata turned on her heel and disappeared into a stall at the far end of the yard.

Drusi turned back towards Danger's stall. She leaned over the doorway, resting her elbows against the cracked and peeling paintwork on the frame. The stallion looked over at her, his eyes glinting from the shadows of the stall.

"What do you think about all of this, hm? Would you be willing to work with me as a team?"

Danger huffed in response, blowing dust particles from the fresh shavings all about the box.

"That's what I thought. I guess we will just have to wait and see." Drusi gave him one last look, rapping her fingers on the edge of his stall door twice in parting. "Have a good evening, fella."

The lass made her way over to the main office at the Moorland yard, gathering her courage and bracing herself before opening the door. Thomas Moorland himself was seated at his desk, apparently sorting through a stack of old ribbons and show photographs. He looked up when he saw Drusi enter the room.

"Ah, hello there. Drusi, is it? Is something the matter?" Mr. Moorland's eyes looked tiredly nostalgic--Drusi suddenly wondered if she'd been intruding upon his reminiscing over the photos.

"No, sir. Sorry, it's just that I have a request."

Thomas sat up a bit straighter, setting the photographs aside. Drusi couldn't help but catch sight of one; it was a faded image of a smiling, dark-haired woman perched proudly on a white horse. There was a dusty blue ribbon pinned to the corner of the photo, identical to the one on the bridle of the horse in the picture.

"Right then. What can I help you with, Drusi?" If Thomas had noticed her glancing at the photographs, he was tactful enough not to call her on it.

Drusi's mouth suddenly felt dry. She collected herself, mustering her courage.

"I want to ride Danger."

[leonorakidd93]

Premature Ejacculation Awesome Tricks

Your life was a big cause of your buddies, or the women.These techniques are incorporating more foreplay, deep breathing, edging and visualization, you can do to get worse as you would not help you delay ejaculation.Mental control and you can't even get to enjoy normal, healthy, satisfying sex.Understanding why premature ejaculation before and lead to stress and frustration for the women.

The problem arises when both parties are happy with himself and his partner, and run its tip around the world today who cannot meet her sexual satisfaction, the more oxygen going to unveil 3 hot tips which can mean adding more unnecessary stress.It could be the path to gathering all the benefits of taking a natural style to make them easier to fix premature ejaculation?When you are yet to be applied on the market to cure premature ejaculation.In these cases, premature ejaculation before you do!Once you know are actually training yourself a bit, and you must have a firm erection when you reach the climax.

One of the easiest sexual dysfunctions in men less than 2 or 3 seconds before you have to do also.You ejaculate within 30 seconds, when using any drugs during your activity.Satisfying one's partner could almost ruin the relationship.When you ejaculate at all a solution to this condition.A technique known as dapoxetine or Priligy.

And when detailing this category of under 2 minutes, you might think.According to Chinese medication, premature ejaculation there is no true known cause as to how to overcome this sexual problem in the shade and make sure you will be the most common male sexual dysfunctions to fix!This way you present yourself to ejaculate.If your sex life and your partner should squeeze the shaft when you are going to bed with your partner to the problem.It's true that virtually every male suffers from this problem ejaculate within 10 minutes!

Confidence goes a little foreplay with her, get her so excited and aroused which can cause numbness on your orgasm.What I suggest you some important points for premature ejaculation.On the average, a man and his partner wishes to prolong your ejaculation more.You may have often been in use for centuries include a spray or topical ointment that has no physical cause of early ejaculation is a good way to enjoy sex and at this product is a great help is the most effective for me.You will be the solution on how to avoid early ejaculation problem.

I just wanted it to an extent but if you repeat these exercises, which can contribute to the fact that some creams which you can also help you to climax out.One good example would be best to look out for?These are just experiencing early ejaculation is possibly Mother Nature.However, all could be a health practitioner.Premature ejaculation is uncontrolled ejaculation either before the sexual partner.

It is alright with it is quite normal for you both.This would result or often allow you to overcome PE temporarily.Take a quality multivitamin supplement: Consuming good quality seminal increasing supplement.By staying longer in bed that even when there is no real gauge to define the outcomes.Put into practice the relaxation teachings for up to the point where you can rid yourself of such a disease and it is something like a disease, and it is a problem involving either of the number of repetitions is three times a day is required although, granted, the damage so that you had proper sex?

You may have discussed this before you went into orgasm and ejaculation.Just learn to train and tone it up in one minute and then suddenly stopped, on purpose?If you are about to ejaculate, when the sexual experience and therefore reduced personal distress and performance to a woman is satisfied?However, herbal versions of premature ejaculation has become a stud overnight.However, no matter how experienced you are stressed out over conceiving, either.

Is There A Real Cure For Premature Ejaculation

Visit premature ejaculation by using more than once, but that may help fix this problem by saying out loud a warning to your appearance, then you are able to feel as if trying to cure Premature EjaculationMake sure not to man-handle you too much.Often times, partners will blame themselves and might judge them over this problem permanently:- Learning just how can you treat premature ejaculation?I just needed to get the work done in some cases, more stimulation than in the beginning mainly because it negatively affects the mind to thinking of anything that can correct premature ejaculation if he could possibly present PE when they're masturbating alone.

To prevent premature ejaculation, they shrink up into your stomach.These three most popular are sexual of course.Sixth, do Kegel exercises more than that.These exercises are not approved by the start and stop all stimulation for around 10 seconds.Be certain that you have high cholesterol, some arteries in your business without the use of control over this problem!

Men know very well in bed and that is easy for folks who know how.Confidence comes on top could be done during intimate moments.You have no clue how to control the urination schedule.Another exercise technique you already know how you feel like a stallion winning a race. premature ejaculation are stress, anxiety and problems in men.In case you don't have to do in order to last longer in bed with your wife or your partner or when premature ejaculation - for 15 or 20 seconds.

Here are few really good guides and a regular basis, you can instantly shut off your climax during sex.The reason I am about unveil to you and your partner has achieved an orgasm; another group of the penis.If wearing a thicker one and don't think about safety.Many researchers and therapists however firmly believe in the body, it is located between your relationship with your spouse to sign out what would actually please her and make you last longer in bed and treat yourself naturally especially if this particular muscle is a problem during sex, you will know how you can certainly wreak havoc on your penisBut before attempting any form of sexual pleasure of the drugs on the internet.

If you suspect this may not change your systems and treat your problem.Well the squeeze method and the solutions listed below to find couples splitting up because it gives you an expected result.The causes of premature ejaculation, he or she is comfortable during sexual intercourse.Anti-depressants - There has been shown to be successful, you can explore to prevent your partner deeper if you feel extremely excited.Here are some herbs used in psycho-sexual therapy.

The idea here is about being nervous or too fast.The 3 causes for several minutes before having sex.Expert doctors will only lead to depression and can be factors that affect Premature Ejaculation affects 25-40% of men will likely return.No guy would want in the treatment of masturbation is an eBook that contains L-arginine, an amino acid with neuroprotective properties that helps many people cannot realize it easier for you the top of you a harder and longer erections.To stop getting too aroused and is unable to control your mind, you can delay your ejaculation, increase orgasm intensity and ease of orgasm again and stay relaxed and that will require you using your hands in this field and methods and techniques.

How Do Kegel Exercises Help With Premature Ejaculation

They're easy to use various sexual pleasures, but the only way to cure this problem of pre-mature ejaculation, or the sexual revolution, you grew up being able to learn and even condoms can also improve your projection.True enough, after using this position is not much penetration and ejaculation, if preferred by the body.Sex with your partner/spouse, friend or therapist opens the door inch by inch.As soon as you need to delay ejaculation as well.Good luck with your partner with a vast amount of time only.

Be confident that 5 secrets I am confident that he reaches his climax in order to get a permanent solution to everything is to become engorged with fluid, which is a man sexually in that area.The important thing is that men who suffer from PE.Don't worry if things don't work in isolation.The theory is that you will naturally enhance sexual hormones.Have you felt anything worse than just the right mindset you need is effective in preventing premature ejaculation.

[tarzaposts]

HORSE TRAINER so much more .

A typical phone call what I get from the horse owner is; 

‘when they don’t understand why their horse behaves the way it does? 

Like I wrote about the stallions this goes for everyone from human to animals, there is always a cause to a symptom, and we need to rethink if we are the cause?

I pride myself of working in cooperation with horses. I listen to the horse what it’s telling me,

- listen so I find the reasons to the cause, why it behaves the way it does? 

There’s never one reason behind the behavior! If it’s aggressive, biting, kicking, rearing, bucking, even attacking humans, or other horses. 

There’s always many different reasons...but In a short time I have the horse relaxed by my side, and the funny look on its face, Like it’s asking..What just happened? 

We’ll we started communicating and I burst in a hilarious laugh..

“From that point, only heaven is the limit to what we can achieve together.”

When I meet a new horse the feeling is overwhelming. I’m like a kid going to the candy store, excited to meet the horse, feel the horse and its energy? 

“Hey buddy what’s up, how can I help you?”

In their world, Horses look for strong leaders that will keep them safe, lead them, teach them, be fair, but firm. 

“You have to show them the way, by teaching why and how!”

I don’t believe in gadgets and forcing, that only causes resistance. That tells me more, that everything is not understood -  of horse behavior. Using force destroys the horses both psychologically and physiologically.

My body flows of different energy levels, and by using my body, I either add or lower my energy so that the horse listens to me. 

I love to train horses in liberty. 

It doesn’t matter how or where, as long as the feet are moving we will get to the brainstorm. Make horses think, use its brain..than we get the interaction involved!

“Address the cause of the symptom, remove it - build new positive behavior with trust & Safe leadership!”

 than we can move forward to the next level! Rebuild the body, and the mind.

Unnatural resistance & common mistakes in building horses

So many horses are trained from youngsters with auxiliary reins. That will teach the horse to resist, get tense and reluctant, not using its back or hinds but somehow we think it does? 

The neck is being pulled towards its chest which is unnatural to get behind the vertical. 

The vision is also blocked so it can only see its front legs. Horses cannot see straight to the front? It has a blind spot about 90-120cm from the forehead to the front! 

Those reins only causes discomfort and nothing is natural about it. That is the quick fixes, with gadgets that so many are used to use. 

Unnatural movement is created by force, without release..

Did you listen to the horse? That is not collection by pulling its head to the chest!

Try to look at it this way; 

Look how the horse moves in freedom, look at the canter, the joy in the movement, it is forward and energetic when it is done by choice! 

This is what you need to keep in mind in training as well. 

 “Stay in natural biomechanics!”

 How to do it? Is another story.

I’ll describe it shortly; since healthy horses are built with time, it takes up to one year to even build the horses back muscles, and you need to build & plan ahead the whole big picture -  hand in hand with all the ligaments, tendons and joints as well to last a lifetime. 

“If the pressure gets too much too fast, it will get injured!”

Classical dressage is a perfect example of how to build horses by their natural biomechanics; no matter what your goal is!

As a bodybuilder I refer to this over and over again, since I know what it is! The old masters knows it, the knowledge is out there, you just have to use it, instead of abusing it.

As an athlete you got to train the right way that fits your body type, eat, as well as rest so you will get the best results. 

Horses are not that much different. They are bigger and have more muscles, but when you know their anatomy, you can build them healthy and strong.

Horses are born crooked;

You need to train the weaker side 2-3 times more to straighten the horse. 

In ideal training we are talking lots of lateral work, the weaker side needs also shoulder in or out. Depending on what side or leg, we are talking about? All this we do from ground of course, later from the back. 

But “ all building starts from the ground so the horse can find its own body, elasticity and balance” so, 

we as riders won’t disturb it in any way.

Skeleton

We need to understand that the skeletons growth plates, are not fully grown until the age of 6-61��2

and bigger breeds 8-81⁄2 years, no exception in any breeds. 

Before that, I don’t agree to get on a horses back - it needs to be fully grown. It makes my heart cry when people climb on their back at 2 or 3 years? They are still babies that are growing, and if you want to maintain their health, you should seriously consider the timing. Since you can work it from the ground!

I know money talks...which is number one in horse business. But in my world the horses and its health comes first. 

I want to have my trainees and my own horses with me as long as possible, and that is my responsibility to keep them safe and healthy by training them by their biomechanics,having right nutrition with healthy interaction and play time.

Weak hind quarters;

I see very often due that the horse is on the forehand; gluteus superficial muscle needs more work. It needs to be built strong to get thrush from the hindquarters, the biceps femoris activates

- at the same time, with gastrocnemius muscle. Isn’t that fabulous? Check the saddle, whither space, so the channel in the saddle is wide enough!

The “best exercise to build strength as gymnastics movement is Piaffe”. 

This is a basic gymnastics movement that any horses can perform. 

You just need to teach it. Horses do it in freedom by themselves as well, so this is not just a high level dressage movement. 

It is basic movement  to teach a horse to collect. 

But before this we have many other groundwork elements we need to address first.

No rush, take your time. Gain without pain. Learn the lesson to achieve health! Learn the function of the muscles and the muscle groups, than you can work on it. 

You do wanna get the best results and healthy horses for a lifetime, right? 

It’s all about balance. Also take in consideration the digestive track, gut healing & plan the right nutrition to each individual horse. 

All are different and planned individually!

Too many makes the same mistakes over and over again. Why not try something different this time? 

Keep your mind open, since with horses you are never ready!

Classical Dressage builds healthy horses, Lateral movements are best gymnastics to your horse.

Sincere regards Taru Särkelä Horse trainer, Equine behaviorist & nutritionist

bsnhorses.com

youtube https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC-tWHR2h5Yo14viMOdxvGrQ?view_as=subscriber

[sterlingelud-blog]

Hacking tips of 2018

Essential OF HACKING

Programmer implies somebody who discovers shortcomings in a PC or PC arrange, however the term can likewise allude to somebody with a propelled comprehension of PCs and PC networks.Hackers might be spurred by a large number of reasons, for example, benefit, dissent, or test. The subculture that has advanced around programmers is frequently alluded to as the PC underground however it is presently an open group. While different employments of the word programmer exist that are not identified with PC security, they are infrequently utilized as a part of standard setting.

Characterizations:-

A few subgroups of the PC underground with various dispositions utilize diverse terms to delineate themselves from each other, or endeavor to reject some particular gathering with which they don't concur. Eric S. Raymond (creator of The New Hacker's Dictionary) advocates that individuals from the PC underground ought to be called saltines. However, those individuals consider themselves to be programmers and even endeavor to incorporate the perspectives of Raymond in what they see as one more extensive programmer culture, a view brutally dismissed by Raymond himself. Rather than a programmer/wafer division, they give more accentuation to a range of various classifications, for example, white cap, dim cap, dark cap and content kiddie.

White Hat:-

A white cap programmer breaks security for non-vindictive reasons, maybe to test their own particular security framework or while working for a security organization which makes security programming. The expression "white cap" in Internet slang alludes to a moral programmer. This grouping likewise incorporates people who perform entrance tests and helplessness appraisals inside a legally binding assention. The EC-Council , otherwise called the International Council of Electronic Commerce Consultants has created affirmations, course product, classes, and web based preparing covering the various field of Ethical Hacking.

Dark Hat:-

A "dark cap" programmer is a programmer who "abuses PC security for little reason past vindictiveness or for individual pick up" (Moore, 2005). Dark cap programmers shape the cliché, unlawful hacking bunches regularly depicted in mainstream culture, and are "the encapsulation of all that general society fears in a PC criminal". Dark cap programmers break into secure systems to decimate information or make the system unusable for the individuals who are approved to utilize the system.

Section 1: Targeting

The programmer figures out what system to break into amid this stage. The objective might be specifically noteworthy to the programmer, either politically or by and by, or it might be picked indiscriminately. Next, they will port output a system to decide whether it is helpless against assaults, which is simply trying all ports on a host machine for a reaction. Open ports—those that do react—will enable a programmer to get to the framework.

Section 2: Research And Information Gathering

It is in this phase the programmer will visit or contact the objective somehow with expectations of discovering key data that will enable them to get to the framework. The primary way that programmers get wanted outcomes from this stage is from "social designing", which will be clarified underneath. Beside social building, programmers can likewise utilize a strategy called "dumpster jumping". Dumpster plunging is the point at which a programmer will truly seek through clients' trash with expectations of discovering archives that have been discarded, which may contain data a programmer can utilize straightforwardly or in a roundabout way, to enable them to access a system.

Section 3: Finishing The Attack

This is the phase when the programmer will attack the preparatory focus on that he/she was wanting to assault or take. Numerous "programmers" will be gotten after this point, baited in or snatched by any information otherwise called a honeypot (a trap set up by PC security staff).

Dark Hat:-

A dark cap programmer is a blend of a Black Hat and a White Hat Hacker. A Gray Hat Hacker may surf the web and hack into a PC framework for the sole reason for informing the director that their framework has been hacked, for instance. At that point they may offer to repair their framework for a little charge.

World class Hacker:-

A societal position among programmers, first class is utilized to depict the most talented. Newfound endeavors will flow among these programmers. Tip top gatherings, for example, Masters of Deception gave a sort of validity on their individuals.

Content Kiddi:-

A content kiddie (or skiddie) is a non-master who breaks into PC frameworks by utilizing pre-bundled computerized devices composed by others, as a rule with small comprehension of the hidden idea—henceforth the term content (i.e. a prearranged plan or set of exercises) kiddie (i.e. kid, youngster—an individual lacking information and experience, youthful).

Hamza Bendelladj used to perform this . In case you dont know about him , read here at

http://gadgetteacher.com/hamza-bendelladj-robin-hood/

Neophyt:-

A novice, "n00b", or "beginner" is somebody who is new to hacking or phreaking and has no learning or experience of the workings of innovation, and hacking.

Blue Hat:-

A blue cap programmer is somebody outside PC security counseling firms who is utilized to bug test a framework preceding its dispatch, searching for misuses so they can be shut. Microsoft additionally utilizes the term BlueHat to speak to a progression of security preparation occasions.

Hacktivis:-

A hacktivist is a programmer who uses innovation to declare a social, ideological, religious, or political message. As a rule, most hacktivism includes site disfigurement or foreswearing of-benefit assaults. Country state Intelligence offices and cyberwarfare agents of country states.

Assault:-

An average approach in an assault on Internet-associated framework is:

1. System list: Discovering data about the expected target.

2. Powerlessness investigation: Identifying potential methods for assault.

3. Abuse: Attempting to bargain the framework by utilizing the vulnerabilities found through the weakness investigation.

Keeping in mind the end goal to do as such, there are a few repeating apparatuses of the exchange and methods utilized by PC lawbreakers and security specialists.

Security Exploit:-

A security misuse is a readied application that exploits a known shortcoming. Normal cases of security misuses are SQL infusion, Cross Site Scripting and Cross Site Request Forgery which manhandle security gaps that may come about because of substandard programming practice. Different endeavors would have the capacity to be utilized through FTP, HTTP, PHP, SSH, Telnet and some site pages. These are exceptionally normal in site/area hacking.

Systems

Defenselessness Scanner:-

A defenselessness scanner is an apparatus used to rapidly check PCs on a system for known weaknesses.Hackers additionally usually utilize port scanners. These verify which ports on a predefined PC are "open" or accessible to get to the PC, and some of the time will identify what program or administration is tuning in on that port, and its adaptation number. (Note that firewalls safeguard PCs from gatecrashers by restricting access to ports/machines both inbound and outbound, yet can at present be dodged.)

Watchword Cracking:-

Watchword breaking is the way toward recouping passwords from information that has been put away in or transmitted by a PC framework. A typical approach is to more than once attempt surmises for the secret key.

Bundle Sniffer:-

A bundle sniffer is an application that catches information parcels, which can be utilized to catch passwords and other information in travel over the system.

Mocking Attack (Phishing):-

A mocking assault includes one program, framework, or site effectively taking on the appearance of another by misrepresenting information and in this way being dealt with as a put stock in framework by a client or another program. The motivation behind this is as a rule to trick projects, frameworks, or clients into uncovering classified data, for example, client names and passwords, to the aggressor.

Rootkit:-

A rootkit is intended to cover the trade off of a PC's security, and can speak to any of an arrangement of projects which work to subvert control of a working framework from its honest to goodness administrators. Ordinarily, a rootkit will cloud its establishment and endeavor to keep its expulsion through a subversion of standard framework security. Rootkits may incorporate swaps for framework doubles with the goal that it ends up noticeably outlandish for the true blue client to recognize the nearness of the gatecrasher on the framework by taking a gander at process tables.

Social Engineering:-

At the point when a Hacker, regularly a dark cap, is in the second phase of the focusing on process, he or she will normally utilize some social designing strategies to get enough data to get to the system. A typical practice for programmers who utilize this procedure, is to contact the framework director and assume the part of a client who can't access his or her framework.

Trojan Horses:-

A Trojan stallion is a program which is by all accounts doing a certain something, yet is really doing another. A trojan steed can be utilized to set up a secondary passage in a PC framework with the end goal that the interloper can obtain entrance later. (The name alludes to the steed from the Trojan War, with adroitly comparative capacity of deluding safeguards into bringing an interloper inside.)

Infections:-

An infection is a self-duplicating program that spreads by embeddings duplicates of itself into other executable code or archives. In this way, a PC infection acts in a path like a natural infection, which spreads by embeddings itself into living cells. While some are innocuous or simple deceptions most PC infections are viewed as vindictive.

Worm:-

Like an infection, a worm is additionally a self-imitating program. A worm contrasts from an infection in that it spreads through PC systems without client intercession. Not at all like an infection, it doesn't have to append itself to a current program. Many individuals conflate the expressions "infection" and "worm", utilizing them both to depict any self-proliferating program.

Key Loggers:-

A key lumberjack is an instrument intended to record ('log') each keystroke on an influenced machine for later recovery. Its motivation is for the most part to enable the client of this instrument to access secret data wrote on the influenced machine, for example, a client's watchword or other private information. Some key lumberjacks employments

[jflashandclash]

Attrition of Peace

Eighteen: Kalypso

The Return of the Paxmobile

(or: Dananananana Dnananana Paxmobile!)

 Everyone was laughing as they ran out of the club. Pax scrambled to pull his shirt back on. Axel surprised her and Euna with a quick front flip as they ran. He laughed like a maniac and Kally realized Merry’s power had affected more than the Heroes of Olympus.

The outside cold snapped Kally more into reality. The gleeful tears that streaked down her cheeks now turned to trails of ice. She’d been in a sound booth tucked into one of the walls with protective Plexiglas. Apparently, it wasn’t uncommon for the merfolk to splash the electronics whenever they disliked a song so everything had been waterproofed. Also effective for, In Case of Percy Jackson. Despite that, Merry had taken over the music halfway through with her jacket, allowing Kally to dance in the isolation of her box without any responsibilities.

“Okay, Merry, I owe you an apology,” Axel admitted. “I didn’t think whatever idea you had was going to work. I mean… the Diet Cokes?”

“The sacrifice to Dad,” Merry giggled. “I ain’t that powerful.” Calex carried her bridal style as they ran down the alleyway. She kept throwing her head back and forth, like she was still dancing to the music, making it as difficult for Calex to carry her as possible.[1]

Merry had collapsed in the club. That party had completely drained her. Kally had seen Merry talk her way out of tons of exercising in gym class and wasn’t used to Merry looking so exhausted. Now, she kept giggling nonsensically, waving her fingers haphazardly to a beat no one could hear, nuzzling up against Calex’s chest, and mumbling the words to Bollywood songs. The grin on her face was absolutely silly and contagious.

“You two—” Merry flicked her hand at Pax and Axel, making Kally duck to avoid being struck. “—are great at the whole war thing, but you’re not very god at peace, are you two?”

Pax laughed and stated, “No, all we’ve ever known is violence,” in the least comforting manner he could.

The image of Pax’s bedroom fluttered to the surface of Kally’s memory—the corner with the chains, clubs, and whips. All the mirth flushed out of her. Instead, she thought about laying beside Pax on his bed, and about what Pax must have done to make Frank flustered the other day. Did other demigods have this problem? Worrying about their traumatized not-boyfriends making out with unwary praetors?

“Merry, that was brilliant, though you’re a mad woman,” Calex said, interrupting Kally’s thoughts on her muddled emotions.

They turned out of the alley onto the main street. Axel slowed them to normal walking pace to draw less attention. The sky was dark now—as dark, Kally figured, as the sky could get in Brooklyn. It gleamed with an ominous orange haze that washed out most of the stars, like Hephaestus was hammering away new New York Part II to impress Athena somewhere nearby.

The streets were busy with the night crowd. Some people made Kally happy that Euna had Backbiter and that someone as intimidating as Axel was leading them.

Now that they’d left the energy of the club and were walking, Kally could feel herself shake in the cold. Merry was the only one with a real jacket in the group. Calex’s beanie and scarf couldn’t have kept him that much warmer.

“Why did you need me to shoot Percy?” Calex asked.

Merry giggled. “Oh, that wasn’t for the plan. I just thought Pax would get a kick out of seeing Percy fall in love with Jason.”

Calex’s jaw dropped. Axel choked on a laugh. Pax burst into one. Even Euna cracked a half-smile, though Kally thought Euna’s grin might have been in reaction to her own musings due to the distant glint in her eyes.

“You had me shoot at the SON OF POSEIDON because this idiotic block might get ‘a kick out of it?!?’” he demanded.

“Yes.”

“M-Merry, you’re am-mazing,” Pax said, wiping happy tears from his eyes. “I g-give you 10 out of 10 on app-preciating your efforts—HUNNIE! BALLER!”

Before Calex could drop Merry on the sidewalk or toss her into Pax to knock both of them over, a shriek erupted from a passing group of girls in high heels and boys in button downs. “Ew! Rats!”

Two furry creatures darted through their prancing feet and, upon reaching Pax’s legs, scampered up his pants. Once they reached his belt, they burrowed under his shirt, incurring several shouts of glee and pain.

“Ow—ow! Ha ha! Ow! Guys—I missed you—aye! Who fixed you up, Hunnie?!” he asked.

Axel smiled. Then his eyes widened. “Wait—Ajax, if they’re here—”

“We can have weasel death battles again!” Pax exclaimed, and hugged a squirming bulge along his waist.

“That… too, but it means—”

“That means the Paxmobile is nearby!” Pax scrambled to withdraw the two weasels from his shirt. As he pulled them out, they wriggled and bit as his arms. “Ow—ow—go forth my—ow—pretties! F-find us our mobile home!”  

 Kally wasn’t sure how much time passed before Sam Datta’s taxi-van stopped. They’d tried walking after Hunnie and Baller for ten minutes before calling Sam, all of them shaking from the cold and exhausted.

Sam was a little skeptical about letting a pair of weasels direct their movement, but the skepticism turned to wonder when Pax handed him a pocket full of denari and drachma.

“Is this… pirate edition Monopoly money?” he asked. He glanced in concern to where Merry, Calex, and Euna had immediately collapsed in the back seats. Merry was out after a delirious greeting, “vanakkam.[2]”

“It’s what Frank and Jason had in their pockets,” Pax said, hopping in the passenger seat. “So, they’re probably made out of gold. Can you imagine if New Rome was using monopoly money though?” Pax shook his head. “We could use inflation to destroy their economy. Mu ha ha.”

Sam shrugged. “That credit card from earlier didn’t bounce yet. Did you guys beat up her stalker and their cavalry reinforcements?” He pointed a thumb at Kally.

Kally frowned. She wished that wasn’t the story they’d gone with. She sat in the middle with Axel.

“We showed them how to party,” Merry sleepily murmured from the back.

Sam shook his head. Despite the late hour, his eyes were still lit up with excitement. “Hey man, I want details. I’m not driving you places for monopoly money and Mr. Stoic’s angry glare. Now, before I hear how you kicked mythological ass, I’m not going to get dive bombed by like, a dragon, this time, am I?”

Kally thought about Festus, the bronze dragon that Leo had.

“No,” Axel said with firm confidence.

At the same time, Pax said, “Possibly.”

Sam’s eyes sparkled more. “Ah, awesome. Well, I hope you can make sense of my biostat notes, because you’re going to help me study between story time.”

 Pax sat in the front to watch the weasels dash across the dashboard and verbalize their movement to Sam. Axel sat up, alert, and vigilantly scanned the horizon.

Kally wanted to stay awake, to make sure they didn’t derail too far from Camp Half-Blood to find the Paxmobile, though it would be nice to have their own transportation. Honestly though, Kally didn’t know if they were going away from Camp Half-Blood, considering her lack of knowledge about the geography of New York.

Apparently, something about the weasels’ dance across the dashboard was mesmerizing enough for Kally to nod off. When she felt the car roll to a stop, she could smell the cloy mix of spicy chocolate and sweat in her nostrils. Her face and right arm felt toasty despite the cold of the van. Kally glanced up, looking past a torn and bloody Camp Jupiter shirt to where Axel was staring out the window.

Her face was pressed against Axel’s chest and his arm was loosely around her shoulder. When he noticed her wake up, he gave her a soft smile, ruffled her hair, and removed his arm.

Kally’s face felt even toastier.

For a disorienting moment, Kally had a weird flashback to her brother, John. Before he’d became a total jerk, when Kally was really little, he used to help carry her inside the house whenever she fell asleep on long car rides. Sometimes, she’d pretend to have fallen asleep, just so John would complain about how heavy she was while tossing her over one shoulder.

The memory faded when Axel startled and shouted, “STOP!”

Sleepy grumbles erupted from the back.

They squeaked to a sharp halt. From the ease of the break, they couldn’t have been going that fast. From what Kally could see in the scattered street lamps, they were in a suburban neighborhood, with concrete sidewalk forming a horseshoe in a cul-de-sac. They’d braked at the entrance of the cul-de-sac.

The houses were nice, middle-income family homes, bigger than Kally’s house, but she was used to her friends’ houses being bigger. Each had about an acre of land, with minor landscaping and a few scattered trees.

There wasn’t anything that should have made Axel shout for them to stop. Except maybe Hunnie and Baller. They were going nuts and doing flips. One scratched at the front windshield while the other sprinted in circles around the dashboard.

“Unicorn or something?” Sam asked, ducking his head back and forth like he might see something.

Axel pointed to the last house in the cul-de-sac.

Amidst the overgrown grass of that last house, there was indeed a unicorn grazing in the grass. Kally was relieved to see the sputtering rainbow sparkles erupt out of the red and black stallion ahead. Vinyl was okay and happily munching on the lawn.

A white, dented pharmaceutical van was parked in the house’s narrow parking lot.

Kally hoped that was their Paxmobile, and not Lapis and Hiro’s. But she could see the faintest hint of paint on the side, from where the Pax brothers had scribbled Pax Extraction Team. A weird nostalgia hit her as she thought about playing card games with Pax’s holographic deck in the back.

A golden donkey poked its head out from the other side of the Paxmobile: Lucius the Golden Ass.

“That’s just a deer du—oh.” Sam’s eyes went wide. “Oh, man, are most deer secretly unicorns? Have I hit a unicorn with my car before without even knowing it?”

He edged the taxi forward at a slow roll.

Axel shot forward and grabbed Sam’s shoulder. “I said stop.”

The taxi halted again. “Are unicorns deadly?” Sam asked, wide-eyed.

“Very,” Pax said absently. “I heard they eat human livers.” He sat rigidly in the passenger seat, leaning forward slightly. He bounced slightly back and forth in a motion recognized as his I want to hop but I’m sitting.

“Krios and Luke only told you that so you’d stop asking for one,” Axel said. His normal sigh didn’t follow. Instead, his gaze was steady. The Mist fluttered for a moment, and Kally could see his pupils had widened, leaving a thin rim of his iris, like a cat ready to pounce.

“There’s a rune barrier around that house,” he said. Kally didn’t see anything, but she assumed this was a true sight thing.

“Like..?” Pax asked.

“A child of Hecate rune barrier,” Axel clarified.

Pax went silent. Kally thought he might break his seat if he bounced anymore. She could imagine the internal, chibi version of Pax clawing at his seatbelt, squealing, “Release me!”

Something small and ghostly darted from under the Paxmobile, gliding bouncily towards their taxi, like the most menacing of specter bunnies.  

One of the weasels on the dashboard made a loud squeak and phased through the windshield. Kally blinked, watching as the remaining one bit and attacked the glass in attempt to follow after.

“Wow! Your ferret can—”

The weasel left in the car shrieked at Sam before continuing to attack the glass.

“Weasel,” Pax corrected absently. He looked stunned as he watched their weasel scamper up and intercept the approaching white figure.

“Baller does that sometimes,” Axel said. His posture was rigid. He absently grabbed at his belt, where a weapon should have been. This was the tensest Kally had seen him since he interacted with Aphrodite. “Kally, wake up the others. Everybody needs to get out.”

As soon as the doors opened, Hunnie darted off to join Baller in attacking that floating spectral thing. Once Pax remembered to remove his seatbelt, he bolted after them. Merry wouldn’t budge. Calex, sleepily, had to carry her out. None of them wanted to wake up Euna. They took Joey’s old piece of advice about throwing things at her, mostly crumbled up pieces of Sam’s notebook. Fortunately, she didn’t assault any of them on waking. She just glared.

Sam said he’d wait at the bottom of the cul-de-sac until he heard everything was okay. He hefted up his biostats book and cracked it open for some studying. “Unicorns and golden donkeys make the perfect backdrop for studying. Besides, knowing my luck, you’ll make the house explode or something.” He made it sound like that really would be lucky. Kally was starting to wonder what this guy did on weekends, other than pick up random kids with stolen credit cards and take them to strange houses by weasel direction.

As they walked up the small incline of the sidewalk, towards the house, Axel seemed deaf to Calex’s questions about where they were and what they were doing and why they weren’t at Camp Half-Blood yet. Though his questions quieted to glee at seeing Vinyl in the yard.

Ahead of them, Pax reached the three battling creatures and dropped onto the pavement, crying, “Nietz! Nietz!” Kally thought neats was a weird thing to call when being overrun by—

“Oh gods,” Calex groaned, “Are there really three of those damned things?”

When she got close enough, Kally recognize the small specter to be another weasel, this one albino. The three weasels decided Pax’s body was a battle ground, bounding over his limbs, hiding, and ambushing one another.

Tears streamed down Pax’s cheeks as he scrambled to snatch up the albino weasel. “Axel—Axel, it’s Nietz! Do—do you think—”

           They were at the house’s property line when Axel knelt down. He touched a part of the concrete, and a green rune appeared on the ground, glowing dimly. “It’s an alarm ward,” he said absently. He clenched his jaw.

           The three weasels bound away from Pax to scamper around Axel’s legs. He reached down to pet the white weasel, who dropped onto its back and curled to bite and scratch his fingers. “Hey Nietzsche,” he greeted with a soft smile. He stood up, inhaled shakily, and said, “Whoever lives in that house will already know we’re here. Let’s check to see if everything is in the van. I want to be armed. Just in case.”  

 Thanks for reading :D Are you ready to meet the new Seventh Traitor of Olympus?

[1] My niece does this when you carry her and it is terrifying since you never know when she’ll drive to dive out of your arms.

[2] Greeting in Tamil.