#but it seems a shame not to have the latest chapter use the cover art

[threshasaurus-writes]

The Dreamscape, Chapter 44: On The Road

Resident Evil 6 ends on an apocalyptic note, and Chris Redfield leads a small group of survivors in the aftermath. Who should join them but Wesker, somehow alive again and as infatuated with Chris as ever.

Chris would have to be losing his mind to love his old rival. Apparently he’s halfway there, though, because whenever he sleeps he’s leading a double life — one without zombies where he and Wesker are married.

Rated M, 248k words and counting, Wesker/Chris, Jake/Piers/Sherry, Chris & Leon Friendship, Minor Background Ships (Billy/Rebecca, Krauser/Leon, Leon/Claire), Mutual Pining, Dream World, Double Lives, Domestic AU (in the Dreamscape), Post-apoc Survival (in the real world), Tired Chris, Slow Burn, Post RE6, Zombie Apocalypse

Chapter 44 is here on Ao3! ♥

[lune-hime]

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 7

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tulipa esperanto ~ A tulip whose flaming petals sprout from a lush green base, signaling growth and the washing away of lingering burdens.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

“Thank you both for waiting! I’m just about done.” Felicia chimed from the stove as Levi entered the house. The pleasant smell of fried bread and pork mingled with the freshness of the tulips to create a scent he could only describe as being homey.

“We had no choice but to be occupied.” Oma grumbled from the dining room, one of the spaces Levi had yet to explore. He wandered into the kitchen after removing his shoes and observed Felicia’s bustling and extremely organized methodology. The pan bopped to the rhythm of her wrist while the kettle whistled in melodic time.

“It’s a shame we didn’t have time for tea. We’ll do it after we eat, then.” Oma called, leaning on the doorway that connected the kitchen to the dining room. Levi nodded and clasped his hands behind his back as he awkwardly lingered on the sidelines of the culinary bustle. His languid gaze drifted to the many framed photos that hung on the only wall not covered with ornate gold trinkets or the weaving vines of plants. His eyebrows furrowed as he observed a common theme.

So many of these photos of you were with that hard headed, horse-faced pain in the ass. From what you had told Levi, you had no memory of life without Jean. That he, Oma, and Felicia had been the only constant presences in your life since you were a child. Why did he feel a pang of jealousy? That was a petty emotion.

Oma had placed delicate plaques at the bottom of each frame that accompanied the memory. Levi wouldn’t have pegged her as someone so sentimental.

First Day of Kindergarten

“We’re going to be late, mommy!!” You wailed as your legs jittered like an excited shore bird. Jean stood beside you and rolled his eyes as your anticipation made your connected arms wiggle like a cooked noodle.

“Yes, yes I know. If I could just get this thing-okay, all set, smile big cuties!” Your mother’s gentle voice sang as she clicked the shutter. Jean immediately got over his minor annoyance and the two of you beamed at the camera.

“Lumine, the school bell’s ringing.” Oma chided lightly at her daughter in law.

Levi adored how your wide grin looked too big to be contained by your tiny cheeks.

Noel

“Jean are you even eating in the corps? You look like a twig when you need to be looking like a sturdy branch.” Oma chided as she shuttled more spaetzle onto Jean’s plate. Jean breathed a nervous laugh at her blunt comment.

“Well their food isn’t as good as yours is, Oma.” Jean replied as he gratefully took the plate. You shuffled past the two of them in the busy kitchen to pour yourself a glass of spiced wine.

“Get on my level, noodle-boy.” You teased, bringing your free arm up and flexing your defined muscles as the other held the ladle of wine. Jean threw an arm around your shoulder and squeezed, demonstrating that his noodle arms held more power than they let on.

Felicia had clicked the shutter just as laughter bloomed on your faces and your glass looked dangerously close to spilling over in festive happiness.

Apple Picking

“Freyr, move a little over to the left.” Oma instructed her son. Freyr took a step sideways and bounced, causing you to fly upwards in glee from your resting place on his shoulders. You grasped the sides of his chin as you both grinned at the camera. Crows flew from the canopy of the lush apple orchard behind you.

Levi drank in the features of your father as if he was studying a work of art. He was very tall, strongly built, and had a charisma about him that Levi wagered is why he was so popular in the capital. He resembled more of a lumberjack than a government official. His jawline was hard, like it was curvetted by a steel knife. But his eyes held a softness just like your own.

When Levi’s eyes drifted to the last photo in the row, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He gulped as he let the contents of the picturesque scene sink in. The four individuals looked lively and ecstatic as they proudly showed off their record breaking salmon catch. Your father, Freyr, stood on the far right holding the fish’s head with a confident smirk. You, having to be around 12, stood next to him inwards. Your weak grip was feigning your support of the giant creature’s weight. To the far left your uncle Rall stood perched with the tail held to his chest as he wore a more modest smile than his brother-in-law. Levi felt his arteries clench around his throbbing heart when he gazed upon the girl only a few years older than you at your side. The sweetness of her expression poured icy flames onto Levi’s conscience.

Petra and Y/N’s Catch

Levi felt as if he were the fish in your hands; milky eyed and cold scaled. He was momentarily sent spiraling into his guilt.

“Jean has grown quite handsome now hasn’t he...” Felicia chirped. Levi blinked at the proximity of her bubbly comment as it punched him from his daze. She appeared at his side with their shoulders centimeters from touching.

“You’ve always liked younger men, haven't you?” Oma snickered as she rummaged through the cupboard.

“Hey! I’m not that old Frau Vogel.” Felicia justified with a playful pout. She turned on her heels to grab the dishes from Oma’s hold but was gently slapped away by the determined old woman.

“Yes but you’ve known the boy since he was fresh out of diapers.” Oma quipped back. “Now if you’re done viewing the art gallery of my life, we have dinner to eat.”

The dining room seemed to glow amber. The walls were dressed with a deep cherry wood, carved with grand scenes of folklore that Levi wasn’t familiar with. The table and chairs were no less intricately carved and were birthed of that same rich wood. The table was fit for a family of high standing, its length providing the space to entertain many guests.

Felicia had set the table so that the three of you were sitting close together, leaving a vast empty space for ghosts to join. Levi wondered what kinds of people used to sit there. He let his mind be tempted with that notion as he gradually checked out of the conversation.

If she used to sit there.

After their meal, Levi was left with that satisfactory warmth he felt the day before. He gave his shoulder a good stretch when Oma returned from clearing the dishes.

“How about sitting down with an old woman for tea now?” She said with a small smile.

“Sure.” Levi responded softly. Oma hummed and faded back into the kitchen.

“Felicia went to go check on Y/N and insisted on doing housework.” Oma explained as she gathered the tea time materials.

“So we have a bit of peace-and-quiet time.” She added as she placed two cups of beautiful ivory china on the tea tray next to the tin of Queen Mary leaves.

Oma led the way to the living room which, to his fading surprise, was just as intricately decorated as the rest of the house. Arched windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling displayed the forest to the back of the estate while a grand fireplace framed with pale brick lay in front of the opposite wall. Artwork, photos, and momentos painted all the walls to give it a cozy atmosphere that Levi was still getting used to. Oma placed the tea tray on the coffee table and sat down on one of the long, plush settees. She patted the cushion and Levi joined her, taking a seat on the other end of the couch.

An arid silence passed by them as Oma delicately poured the tea into each cup. He was hyper aware now of his past choice during that expedition. Whether it was a mistake or not. He was painfully cognizant of his absence. Sure Levi was curt, at times off putting, and cautiously intense with people. But his immense guilt for what happened to his squad was an underlying and consistent fuel for his awkwardness around your grandmother. It remained attached to him like a fifth limb, a presence that was always lurking even at the smallest intensities. Your love helped, eventually filling the gaping hole that had been carved there. But a hole is still a hole, forever a crevasse that would be a permanent addition to his soul.

He was deeply afraid to bring it up. Afraid of digging into old wounds, afraid of facing more of her family, afraid that your grandmother would deem him unfit to protect you. To call it an elephant in the room was a severe understatement. The unspoken truth was more the size of a beached whale. He had stopped seeing their ghosts in his own shadow. But even now seeing the familial resemblance of her in Oma he suddenly couldn’t bear to meet her eyes.

“I don’t blame you, Levi.” She said as softly as the clank of the teapot returning to the tray. Levi’s insides seized but he maintained his composure. She leaned back into the cushions with a sigh. When she craned her head to meet his eyes, his gaze remained fixed on the lone tea cup on the tray.

“For Petra.” Her name fell off Oma’s lips with a delicateness that made Levi’s throat itch with impending shame. “I saw you looking at her photo.”

The itch expanded to an inflation that embedded his incoming breath into the folds of his esophagus.

↞♞♘↠

Your body shivered in the remnants of your hysterical cries. You wished the sadness could have been swept up in the powerful current of your tears but it clung to you like a jagged rock resting just under the rippling water’s surface. Her absence felt like a vital organ had been forcibly taken from your body and the thief hadn’t bothered to stitch you up properly.

“Levi-” You breathed, voice heavy with the aftermath of your latest breakdown. It felt like a tiring journey from the empty bedroom to his office.

Earlier you had held each other, wept with one another, and began grieving together. But as the hours grew on Levi had drawn more reclusive. He had evicted himself from the bed in your fatigue and had resigned to his office chair. The form that occupied the space you almost didn't recognize. He sat deeply reclined in the chair and allowed the material to swallow him. His head dangled limply off his right shoulder, clouded eyes looking at nothing and everything at once. The only sign of vitality in this lifeless shell was the small puffs of air that left his nose.

It was fresh. Painfully fresh. Like a band aid that had ripped off multiple layers of skin. But you needed him right now and you knew he needed you too. The sudden loss of Petra was boring into you. You couldn’t imagine that loss times three that he was experiencing.

“Please we need to talk.” You whimpered as you slowly padded towards his crumpled stature. His swollen eyes and bloodshot whites betrayed his marbled features. He was hesitant to reach for you, to hold you, to touch you. He was sure a part of you must have despised him. Through his own pulsations of pain he could see your own distress. He desperately wanted to be there for you, to wipe away all that ailed you. But how could he do that when he couldn’t even wipe the pain from himself? Especially when he had a hand in inflicting such devastation onto you.

He could never forgive himself for that. For what he did to any of you.

Yet when you unfurled his limbs, climbed into his lap, and encircled yourself into his embrace he exhaled and held you right back.

“Don’t hide from me.” You said with an insatiable quiver. You felt Levi’s arms loosen and begin to pull away as you rested your head in the crook of his neck.

“Please...don’t.” You pleaded, desperate for his comfort. You quickly grabbed his wrists and placed them back along your spine. Levi breathed in frustration but didn’t move to withdraw himself again.

“There’s nothing I can do to bring them back.” He stated with a hopeless gravel.

“I know.” You replied weakly. Levi’s shoulder tingled with fresh tears. He squeezed his eyes shut in self disdain when he began to feel your shaking.

“You must deteste me.” He hummed dryly as the obsessive images of his fallen squad drew more tears from him once more. Each time he thought he was done crying their lifeless bodies bombarded him with more waterworks.

“Levi-” You cried as a sob raked your body.

“How could you even stand to be around me after what I did?” Levi bitterly pushed out as he tasted the salty flow of droplets.

“Shut up!” You coughed, sitting straight up in his lap to look him in the eyes. Your emotions were short circuiting and your patience was running thin for his blame but you hadn’t intended for your reply to come out so aggressive.

Your hands pushed down on his chest as your eyes fluttered shut. You took a moment to take in a deep, albeit ragged, breath. When your eyes opened Levi was fixated on the floor. You grasped his head between your hands and rectified his deflated body.

Your movement forced him to look at you, the two of you exchanging expressions beaten-down by sadness and frustration.

Thinking of the words you were about to formulate spurred more pressure behind your eyes before you articulated them. What was left of Levi's composure fractured as he began to drown in your sorrowful orbs.

You brushed his cheek to keep the both of you from floating away like paper lanterns. You could have lost each other out there today as well as your many comrades and the smoothness of his skin against your thumb kept you in this reality.

This was not the time for conversation, you had already had that. Already had assured him that their passing wasn’t his fault. That, sure if he was there maybe things would have been different but that his actions didn’t dictate their deaths. Telling him again would only be beating a dead horse and cause you both more anguish. The two of you were too weak for that right now.

“You trust me.” You uttered those words as a statement without a hint of question.

Levi nodded instantly. The motion was anamatronic-esque as he struggled to stay afloat.

“I’m here.” You stated softly, taking his hand and placing it directly over your overworked heart. A wave of calm washed over him as he watched his palm move with the deep rhythm of your breathing.

“You’re here.” You continued with a sniffle. You placed your hand on his chest, sighing in comfort as he breathed life into your palm.

“And if we focus on the what if’s we’re going to be hopeless forever.” You spoke the words with vulnerability that betrayed their prowess.

That shattered him.

You watched as his face scrunched with all the emotion he had hid this morning. His brow sloped into his quivering lip and he let out a helpless yelp. He was always trying to not feel. But he could only feign numbness until it embedded itself into everything he did. The void he was carrying now overflowed with singeing emotion that he needed to feel.

For them.

For you.

For himself.

Seeing him so broken caused you to crack too. But for Levi, the gruesome scenes that were replaying on a brutal loop were dulled by the warmth of your hand on his chest, the welcome pressure of your thighs against his, and perhaps the most by your beautiful eyes that despite being ravaged by tears were like a shining beacon in the turbulent storm.

He removed your hand from his chest and took them into his own. He raised your hands to his lips and pressed salted kisses to them.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He croaked and intertwined his fingers with yours with such a force that his knuckles grew white. He begged for your forgiveness, bathed in your light to douse his sinful acts. For you must have been a saint to not have casted him out by now.

He kept apologizing because there was nothing else he could do. He lamented that he wasn’t quick enough. That their last moments were spent in agony and terror. That their deaths not only affected him but you as well.

Your limbs were entangled and foreheads were buried in shoulders for an uncountable amount of time. The two of you slowly dragged one another out of the suffocating mud of the expedition and into the present moment. When tears had dried and embraces grown less feverous, you spoke up.  

“Erwin is allowing me to go home for a few days.” You announced with a sad smile.

Levi hummed weakly as he ghosted his fingers along your scalp.

“Do you want to come with me?” Your invite hung on the air as Levi contemplated. He felt bad denying you but there was no way he would be able to face your family right now. That may have been selfish of him, but he just couldn’t.

He bit the inside of his cheek as you craned your neck to regard him. You understood his silence and nuzzled into his shoulder.

“Okay.” You kissed at the spot where his neck met his collarbone.

↞♞♘↠

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Was all that Levi could manage to say. He didn’t know how to make any apology enough for her grandchild’s absence. He felt disgust rise like bile in this throat all over again.

Oma nodded at his condolences and hid her lingering sadness behind seasoned professionalism.

“Thank you. I’m sorry to you too. You lost her just like the rest of us.” She responded with a mature kindness that made Levi want to poke his eyes out with self-loathing. If the loss hurt him beyond belief, he would never be able to know the extent of Oma’s pain, your pain, and Petra’s parents’ pain.

“I can see that you blame yourself.” Oma inferred with a caring tone. Levi’s hardened gaze remained on the table.

“I know what it’s like to lead a squadron. I know the helpless feeling of someone slipping through your fingers too quickly to catch them.” Oma consoled with a genuine seriousness that made Levi’s eyes flick up to hers. She sighed and placed her tea cup down.

Levi didn’t move as she scooched closer to place a hand over his. His fingers twitched at the calloused pads of her withered hand encircled his.

“It was one year into my promotion to a unit captain. I remember that day so vividly; the bitter smell of the canon smoke mixing with Hannes’ ripe gin, the way the wind gently rocked the trees just over wall Maria, the remnants of my throbbing hangover from the previous night’s excursions."

“I had ordered my unit to scale along the wall and raise the new cannons that had been provided the day prior while I joined Pixis at the guard post. We were having our daily banter when a thunderous quaking assaulted our ears and gave us whiplash with how fast we turned towards the wall. A hoard of titans, many of them abnormals, were rushing towards Wall Maria.”

“We had never experienced an attack so fierce, so alarmingly abrupt. My legs couldn’t carry me quickly enough to my unit before the fuckers started hurling themselves at the wall. The clash of skulls against the structure was deafening. Some of my soldiers decided to ascend, to fight them atop the wall and blast their brains out with the cannons. Others decided to take their chances at slashing their necks. However, the ladder couldn’t compete with the assault and soon their screams morphed into stains on stone.”

“After the attack, I too bashed my skull with guilt and regret. If only I had just waited to assign them to that job. What if instead, I told them to take care of the already positioned cannons. But would it have really made any difference? I’ve come to realize I couldn’t have ever anticipated a horror like that.” Oma’s eyes glazed over in sour memory.

“My point is, you can’t dwell on the what-ifs because that’s not how life went or ever will. You have to live with what life gives-and takes-from you.” Oma continued, holding Levi’s stare with one elderly compassion.

“You led them and inspired them to take action. Their sacrifices were just that; sacrifices they were willing to take for something they believed in.”

As she spoke, acute darts dripped in his squad’s long dried blood threatened to pierce the shield he had built up to their intrusions. But her kind words warded them off almost immediately and Levi felt more relieved than he could ever express to hear her sympathy.

“I’m sure you know it never truly goes away. But forgiving yourself for something that was out of your control dulls the sharpness of that blade.” She smiled flatly with soft eyes.

Listening to her story and feeling her presence sparked an understanding in Levi so deep that it felt foreign to him. It wasn’t the surface level sympathy usually set unto him by his comrades. Nor the solace and empathy you provided him. With Oma it was raw, unaltered. She had seemed to mine his soul and recover a luminous diamond out of the charcoal.

She brewed this sensation within him that peeled away the murky veil of his role of a steely captain. Underneath resided a more youthful soldier who still had much to conquer and learn. He realized he wasn’t actually as aged as he was required to act.

The hectic scenarios that had wracked his mind since he arrived at her doorstep were blown away with the gentle breath of her rapport. He squeezed her hand, instantly feeling her squeeze back.

“Thank you. That...means a lot.” He said as the ice on his brow melted. Oma grinned at his instant brightness, clearly pleased that she had managed to crack through his shell.

“What is it?” She asked with a wispy chuckle as she observed Levi’s minute crescent smile.

“Y/N gave me similar advice after it happened.” He confessed, feeling lighter than he had in years.

“Well, good. Means I raised her well.” Oma smirked fondly. She let go of his hand to uptake her tea cup once again.

“I would never let anything happen to Y/N.” Levi professed as he finally grabbed his tea as well. His grip tightened on his cup as if holding it sturdily cemented his promise. Oma’s grin widened at his dedication as they locked eyes once more.

“We are all responsible for ourselves, and all we can do for others is try our best to protect them. You have done just that, son.” She said after a hearty swig of her drink.

“You’ve been so good to both my girls, whether you see it or not. That’s all I could ever dream of in a superior officer, a friend, and a partner.”

Her heartwarming comment did exactly that to Levi. Except instead of blanketing him with a gentle heat it burned his chest all at once. The fire was so powerful that Levi couldn’t subdue the genuine smile that infiltrated his features. It widened his cheeks and parted his chapped lips in a beautiful display of appreciation.

Oma’s eyes widened and she coughed as her sip of tea almost slid down the wrong pipe.

“It’s a shame Y/N only gets to see those smiles.” Her wheeze was followed by a cackle. Her teasing made him roll his eyes but his smile didn’t diminish.

“Don’t tell her or she’ll think I’ve gone soft.” He chuckled himself as rich as the umber liquid in his cup. Oma winked as she took another sip.

“You know, I would have liked to have met you at Petra’s funeral but there wasn’t one. Her mother insisted on keeping things private.” Oma explained with a long exhale. Levi did recall you talking to him about that. Petra’s parents lived quite a distance away from you and Oma and became more private as the two of you grew up.

Levi nodded and pursed his lips. He definitely wouldn’t have been in the right mental space for that. Oma noted his silence and as if afraid he was going to creep back into his iron guard, sighed in contentment.

“I was so proud that she joined your squad.” She was basked in a lovely nostalgic glow as she mused.

“She looked delicate and slight but Petra had a fire in her like I’ve never seen in anyone else.”

“She did.” Levi agreed. His eyes fell to the fireplace as he traced his finger along the ivory rim of his cup. “She was one of the most skilled soldiers I’ve known.”

Oma hummed in agreement.

“Petra spoke so highly of you, you were truly her role model. She was ecstatic when you and Y/N got together. Couldn’t think of a better person for her little cousin.” Oma praised with the enthusiasm of a proud relative.

Levi let out an awkward huff and shook his head lightly as he brought his cup to his lips.

“You know she’s the reason Y/N wanted to join the corps?”

↞♞♘↠

The sun hung low in the sky when Levi’s squad found themselves lazily lounging at one of the picnic tables that framed the sparring area.  

“The cadets are going to arrive next week.” Gunther commented idly.

“Yes! My younger cousin is going to be joining the 104th class.” Petra beamed, clearly proud of her relative.

“Another cadet with your same beautiful genes? I can’t wait.” Oluo winked and Petra pursed her lips in unamusement.

“Keep it in your pants, Oluo. Or are you hitting on girls you haven’t even met yet?” Eld chided with a smirk.

“How do you feel about her joining, Petra?” Eld asked more seriously.  

“While I’m a bit bittersweet about it, I couldn’t think of another person more capable to be a new recruit.” Petra smiled sadly yet her eyes held excitement at being reunited with her kin.

“Hm, seems like the military runs in your family.” Levi commented, rolling his head against his shoulders to offer a loud crack.

“Yeah, Oma hated it when I joined so I bet she despised it when Y/N decided to fly the nest too.” Petra giggled with the lightness of a sparrow taking flight. A boisterous boom followed by an aggressive order caused the party to direct their attention to the arena.

“And so the hellscape is raised once again.” Gunther nodded to where Shadis was noisily instructing soldiers on where to place the cadet training equipment.

“The stick that’s within his ass imbeds itself deeper each year.” Eld yawned and stretched.

“I’ll be there to fight for her if he takes it too far.” Petra boasted in determination. Her declaration was fiery but her delicate features softened the promise. The special operations squad knew all too well, though, not to underestimate the strength that resided under that cute exterior.

“Hazing is part of the cadet experience.” Gunther shrugged.

“Need to get the nerves burning hot somehow.” Eld added.

“Oh come on, you guys are horrible!” Petra huffed.  

“I’ll make sure she’s well taken care of-” Oluo passionately interjected.

“That’s not necessary.” Petra cut him off with a jab to the ribs.

“You’ll back me up, right Levi?” She looked to their captain expectantly while Oluo's groans grew in pitch.

Levi shrugged in indifference. However the way Petra’s eyes glinted with eagerness made him more inclined to agree.

“If she’s not a brat.”

Petra threw him a pout as the crew’s light-hearted jokes floated up to meet the chromatic tendrils of the evening sky.

[mandaloriandragontrainer]

Sprinkle Ache

A little drabble requested by my sister! Originally written on the notes section of my phone.

AO3 link

“I told you not to eat those industrial-grade sprinkles anymore. It literally says ‘not for human consumption’ on the back.”

“Twas but a wee bellyache, dear brother!” Mabel Pines replied in a fancy voice like the people used in those black-and-white movies Grunkle Stan liked to watch when he thought everyone was asleep. “I’m feeling much better now!”

“Too bad we can’t say the same for the bathroom,” Dipper shuddered as he settled onto his bed, leafing through the new Sibling Brothers book. “You just had to use the one in the shop, huh?”

“It was so romantic of Soos to clean it up for Melody,” Mabel swooned as she fitted her favorite purple socks onto her feet. “He really is a better boss than Stan.”

“Yeah. Romantic. Anyway, you should probably get some sleep so it doesn’t come back. And no jumping on the bed.”

“Ugh, okay, Mom,” Mabel groaned, flopping back on her pillow. “Waddles and I will just binge watch ‘Real Housewives of Nome, Alaska.’”

As if on cue, Waddles came pounding up the stairs, shaking the entire house on his way up.

“Mabel, that pig is 400 pounds. You need to quit bringing him upstairs before he breaks the floor. The Shack is not exactly structurally sound.”

“Shhhhh...” Mabel chided, covering Waddles’ ears. “We do not body-shame in this attic!”

Dipper rolled his eyes and put on headphones to drown out the drama of Mabel’s reality TV before rolling over with his book. He must have fallen asleep somewhere in chapter 17, because the next thing he knew Waddles’ cold snout was pressed to his back.

“Ah!” He shot upright. “Waddles, what are you—“

In the moonlight filtering in through the window slats, he could see Mabel curled up in a painful ball, teeth grit. He quickly flicked on the lamplight and pulled off his headphones.

“Mabel, are you okay?”

She only moaned in response. Dipper hopped out of bed and rushed to her side. “Mabel, come on, what’s going on?”

“I think the sprinkles are back for revenge,” she whispered, clutching her stomach. Dipper could see beads of sweat rolling down her forehead.

“Okay, um, let me get—“

“Oh no!” Mabel grabbed the empty pillowcase she used as a sleeping bag for her stuffed animals and threw up in it. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Sparklenose, I’ll get you a new one.”

“Okay, uh, does it hurt when I do this?” Dipper gently pressed on her abdomen, evoking a yelp of pain.

“Oh yeah. Definitely hurts. Don’t do that again.”

“I think you need to go to the hospital.”

“No, no hospital,” Mabel hunched over and flopped on her side. “I-I’ll be fine.”

“You feel kinda hot. I think this is more than a stomachache. I’m gonna go wake up Stan and Ford.”

“No, they're so old, they need 15 hours of sleep or they’ll die!”

“They’ll be fine. I’ll be right back.” Dipper padded down the stairs and rapped on the door to Ford’s room, which he now shared with Stan since Soos had taken over the former Mr. Mystery’s bedroom.

“Come in, I’m still up,” Ford replied.

Dipper peered in, spotting Ford reclining on his bed, nose buried in the latest edition of his favorite scientific journal. “Uh, Grunkle Ford? I think Mabel needs to go the hospital. Her stomachache’s back, and I think she’s got a fever.”

“Really?” Ford asked in concern, setting aside his reading. “Does it hurt to the touch?”

“Yeah. She seems worse than before. Do you think it’s serious?”

“I definitely think we should get her checked out.” He stood up and went to his brother’s bed on the other side of the room, where Stan was sprawled out snoring. “Stanley, wake up.”

“Uggggh, for the last time Sixer, I ain’t goin jogging at 4 AM.”

“It’s half past midnight, Stan, and this is about Mabel.”

“What?” Stan lifted his head. “She all right?”

“We need to take her to the emergency room. Dipper says her abdominal pain is back, and it seems to have gotten worse.”

In an instant, Stan was out of bed and pulling a shirt over his ratty tank-top. “Ford, go start the car. I’ll bring her down.”

Dipper followed his grunkle up the stairs. It was amazing how fast the arthritic old man could move when his beloved great-niece needed help.

Mabel was still writhing on the bed, nightgown soaked with sweat. Dipper glanced away from the floor, which was splotched with evidence his sister had gotten sick several more times since he’d ran downstairs.

“Oh, pumpkin,” Stan brushed Mabel’s hair out of her eyes. “Your belly not treating you very well right now, huh?”

“I don’t needta go to the hospital, Grunkle Stan,” she mumbled, clutching her stuffed pink manatee.

“There’s nothing to be scared over, sweetie,” Stan assured. “Dipper and Ford and me’ll be right there with you the whole time, okay?” He carefully gathered her in his arms like a sleeping baby. “Hold down the fort while we’re out, okay, pig?”

Dipper quickly stuffed an extra change of clothes for Mabel and some of her art supplies in his backpack, just in case she had to stay the night. He ram ahead of Stan and hopped in the backseat of the car.

“No ya don’t,” Stan lifted him out by the collar of his shirt and plunked him the passenger seat seat, squeezing himself into the back, refusing to set Mabel down. “I need the extra leg room.”

The hospital was only a 10 minute drive from the Shack. Dipper hoped the doctors here were a bit more competent than the other citizens of Gravity Falls.

There were no other patients in the waiting room, which was lucky, since Stan would’ve broken their knees if they tried to go in front of Mabel. A nurse led them back right away.

“Looks like you do have a little fever, honey,” she patted Mabel’s head sympathetically. “The doctor will be right back.”

“Please tell him to hurry. We’ll pay extra!”

“That’s not necessary, Stan,” Ford elbowed his brother.

“All right then,” the doctor (whom Dipper recognized as apparently the only one in Gravity Falls—which didn’t exactly fill him with confidence) pulled back the curtain. “Let’s have a look at Miss Mabel here.”

“It’s just a little bout of sprinkle tummy, no big deal,” Mabel bit her lip, pink manatee in a death grip. She winced as the doctor pressed on her belly.

“Take it easy there, doc!” Stan exclaimed, Ford once again elbowing him.

“I’m worried it might be appendicitis,” Ford suggested.

“Hmmm, that’s certainly a possibility.” The doctor pulled over the bedside ultrasound machine, applying the cool gel to her abdomen.

“That’s cold,” she whispered, glancing nervously at the monitor.

“I can confirm it is indeed appendicitis. And it appears the appendix has already ruptured.”

“That-that means she needs surgery, doesn’t it?” Dipper asked worriedly.

“I’m afraid so, son. Immediately.”

“No! I-I don’t want surgery,” Mabel turned to look at her family. “Grunkle Stan, don’t let him!”

“There, there, sweetie,” Stan ruffled her hair. “Doc, isn’t there any other way.”

“I’m afraid not, sir. Unless we remove the ruptured tissue and start a course of antibiotics right away, there’s a very good chance your niece will become septic.”

“Septic...” Stan looked to Ford, who nodded grimly.

“We’ll phone her parents for permission. A nurse will be in right away to prep her for surgery.” The doctor exited, leaving Mabel on the verge of hysterics.

“Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford, I don’t wanna have surgery!” Hot tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Don’t worry, Mabel, it’s not that big a deal,” Dipper assured, taking her hand. “Remember when I had my tonsils out? I got to stay home and eat ice cream and everyone brought me gifts. You’ll get lots of presents. It won’t be that bad, you’ll see.”

Mabel choked. “But I don’t wanna be cut open! I don’t want them to put me to sleep!”

“There’s nothing to fear, Mabel,” Ford put a hand on her shoulder. Stan could instantly tell he was about to make the situation worse. “To put it in simple terms, the anesthetic will turn off the the portion of you brain responsible for consciousness. You’ll be completely unaware of everything happening, including the passage of time. It will seem as if no time has gone by at all. In fact, anesthesia has been likened to more of a ‘controlled death’ than sleep, because—“

“Death!?” Mabel’s already pale skin whitened even further.

“In a way. They will place a tube down your throat to provide oxygen since you likely cease breathing and—“

“OKAY, I think that’s enough of that, Sixer!” Stan clamped a hand over his brother’s mouth. “Don’t listen to him, sweetie. I had my wisdom teeth taken out when I was 16, so I have first hand experience. None of that dying junk. Why, I dreamed I was sliding down rainbows the entire time!”

“Rainbows?”

“Of course! And uh, there was a magical, uh, stingray-puppy-horse with me. All polka-dotted. Best dream ever..”

Mabel looked doubtful, but she had stopped crying. Stan decided to take that as a win. He knelt down beside the bed and gently ruffled her hair. “Just don’t be scared, okay? You’ve handled a lot more than a little old surgery. It’ll be over before you even know what’s happened, and I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart. Now you and Mrs. Manatee be good for the nurse, okay, pumpkin?”

“Okay,” Mabel agreed, keeping her arms locked around the stuffed animal. Dipper crawled up onto the bed and gave his sister a hug.

“When you get home, I’ll let you put makeup on me. But no pictures and I get to wash it off right away. Deal?”

“One picture?”

“Stop pushing your luck,” Dipper gave her a gentle shove.

“Okay. No pictures. The picture in my mind will be plenty.”

“Good thing you curb-stomped the memory gun or else I would totally wipe it from your brain.”

“Honey?” The nurse poked her head through the curtain. “We’re gonna take you back now. But we’ll let you talk to your parents before you go to sleep.”

Mabel glanced over at her uncles. “Will you walk back with me?”

“As far as we can, little one,” Ford smiled.

Another nurse came in and folded down the bed railing. Stan and Ford stood on either side of the bed as the nurses rolled Mabel out of the room, holding her hands. Dipper remained perched at the foot.

“Here’s your stop, little man,” one of the nurses said as they reached a pair of doors marking “PERSONNEL ONLY.” He lifted Dipper off the bed.

“You’re gonna do great, pumpkin,” Stan leaned down and gave Mabel a kiss on the head. “We’ll be right there when you wake up.”

Mabel gave her grunkles and brothers a final hug before a nurse handed her a cell phone so she could talk to her mom and dad. She looked back and gave a final wave as the doors closed, chattering into the phone. Evidently the pain drip was doing its job.

The moment the doors shut, Dipper turned his face into Ford, his little shoulders shuddering.

“Dipper, what’s the matter, boy?” Ford kneeled down.

“I just-what if-I’m afraid...” Dipper’s brown eyes filled with tears as dropped his face into Ford’s shoulder, so the hospital staff wouldn’t see him cry.

“Hey... look at me Dipper.” The kid didn’t respond, keeping himself buried in Ford’s sweater. “Mason... look at me,” he repeated, a little more softly.

Dipper lifted his head and swiped at his eyes. “I’m just scared that-that she won’t be all right.”

“Mabel will just fine. You did the right thing, coming to get us. We got her here just in time. You might’ve saved you sister’s life.”

Dipper smiled weakly and sniffed. “Yeah... yeah, you’re right.”

The family headed to the waiting room to settle in. “We should hear back before too long,” Ford said. “Appendectomies usually don’t take much more than an hour.”

Exhausted by the night, Dipper soon dozed off, slumped against Ford’s arm. Stan paced the room, claiming it was to prevent his legs from cramping. Soos and Melody arrived about half an hour later, having driven to the 24/7 supermarket the next town over to pick up as many fuzzy blankets, stuffed animals, balloons, and get-well-soon cards as their arms could carry.

“I couldn’t decide if she’d like the pink, purple, yellow, or blue teddy bear best, so I got them all,” Soos rationalized.

A little over an hour later, the doctor returned. “How is she?” Stan asked, worried out of his mind despite Ford’s constant reassurances.

“I can confirm the surgery was a success. She’s been moved to recovery, and you can be there when she wakes up.”

Mabel’s eyes were just beginning to flutter open when her family entered the recovery room. Dipper moved Mrs. Manatee so the toy was tucked under his sister’s arm.

“Good morning, pumpkin,” Stan squeezed his niece’s hand. “How you feelin?”

“Sore,” she spoke after a moment. “I-I don’t remember any rainbows.” She gazed off at the corner. “Is that giraffe for me?”

“She should be more lucid in a short while,” the nurse promised.

Dipper laughed. “Naw. That’s just Mabel.”

“We got some feel-better presents for you, girl-dude,” Soos covered her with an assortment of blankets while Melody lined the bed with stuffed animals, a balloon tied to each one.

“Thanks, Soos,” Mabel managed a grin. “Look, new friends, Mrs. Manatee!”

“Mom and Dad are driving up from home,” Dipper told her. “They should be here by tonight. And I texted Candy and Grenda. Once it’s morning they’ll be by with some Post-Preteen magazines.”

Mabel wrapped her arms around as many stuffed animals as she could hold. “Dipper?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for making me come. I know I could’ve gotten super sick if I didn’t.” She handed him one of her new stuffed animals, a seahorse. “Here. The boys have the babies. You love weird stuff like that.”

Dipper chuckled. “Thanks, sprinkle queen.”

“Ugh,” Mabel stuck out her tongue. “I don’t think I’m ever eating sprinkles again.”

“You know that’s not what caused your appendix to explode, right?”

“Doesn’t matter... I’ve never seen such colorful throwu—“

Dipper put out his hand. “TMI.”

“All right, all right,” Stan scooped Dipper off the bed. “Let your sister get some rest.”

“Can’t he stay, Grunkle Stan?” Mabel asked from underneath her mountain of stuffed animals and blankets. “I won’t be able to get better if he’s not here.”

“Only if you promise to rest and not yammer with each other.”

“We will.”

Stan tucked the sheets around Mabel. “No more gettin sick, okay, pumpkin?”

“Promise.”

Stan settled in next to his brother, keeping watch over their niece and nephew, who soon fell asleep on the hospital bed. “Honestly, Sixer... I don’t know what I’d do without those kids.”

Ford smiled softly. “I don’t either, Stanley.”

[davidmann95]

Superman’s 10 Best of the ‘10s

Good Miracle Monday, folks! The first third Monday of May of a new decade for that matter, and while that means that today in the DC Universe Superman just revealed his secret identity to the world on the latest anniversary of that time he defeated the devil, in ours it puts a capstone on a solid 10 years of his adventures now in the rear view mirror, ripe for reevaluation. And given there’s a nice solid ‘10′ right there I’ll go ahead with the obvious and list my own top ten for Superman comics of the past decade, with links in the titles to those I’ve spoken on in depth before - maybe you’ll find something you overlooked, or at least be reminded of good times.

A plethora of honorable mentions: I’m disqualifying team-ups or analogue character stories, but no list of the great Superman material of the last decade would be complete without bringing up Cave Carson Has A Cybernetic Eye #7, Avengers 34.1, Irredeemable, Sideways Annual #1, Supreme: Blue Rose, Justice League: Sixth Dimension, usage of him in Wonder Twins, (somewhat in spite of itself) Superior, from all I’ve heard New Super-Man, DCeased #5, and Batman: Super Friends. And while they couldn’t quite squeeze in, all due praise to the largely entertaining Superman: Unchained, the decades’ great Luthor epic in Superman: The Black Ring, a brilliant accompaniment to Scott Snyder’s work with Lex in Lex Luthor: Year of the Villain, the bonkers joy of the Superman/Luthor feature in Walmart’s Crisis On Infinite Earths tie-in comics, Geoff Johns and John Romita’s last-minute win in their Superman run with their final story 24 Hours, Tom Taylor’s quiet criticism of the very premise he was working with on Injustice and bitter reflection on the changing tides for the character in The Man of Yesterday, the decades’ most consistent Superman ongoing in Bryan Miller and company’s Smallville Season 11, and Superman: American Alien, which probably would have made the top ten but has been dropped like a hot potato by one and all for Reasons. In addition are several stories from Adventures of Superman, a book with enough winners to merit a class of its own: Rob Williams and Chris Weston’s thoughtful Savior, Kyle Killen and Pia Guerra’s haunting The Way These Things Begin, Marc Guggenheim and Joe Bennett’s heart-wrenching Tears For Krypton, Christos Gage and Eduardo Francisco’s melancholy Flowers For Bizarro, Josh Elder and Victor Ibanez’s deeply sappy but deeply effective Dear Superman, Ron Marz and Doc Shaner’s crowdpleasing Only Child, and Kelly Sue DeConnick and Valentine DeLandro’s super-sweet Mystery Box.

10. Greg Pak/Aaron Kuder’s Action Comics

Oh, what might’ve been. In spite of an all-timer creative team I can’t justify listing this run any higher given how profoundly and comprehensively compromised it is, from the status quo it was working with to the litany of ill-conceived crossovers to regular filler artists to its ignominious non-ending. But with the most visceral, dynamic, and truly humane take on Clark Kent perhaps of all time that still lives up to all Superman entails, and an indisputably iconic instant-classic moment to its name, I can’t justify excluding it either.

9. Action Comics #1000

Arguably the climax to the decade for the character as his original title became the first superhero comic to reach a 1000th issue. While any anthology of this sort is a crapshoot by nature, everyone involved here seemed to understand the enormity of the occasion and stepped up as best they could; while the lack of a Lois Lane story is indefensible, some are inevitably bland, and one or two are more than a bit bizarre, by and large this was a thoroughly charming tribute to the character and his history with a handful of legitimate all-timer short stories.

8. Faster Than A Bullet

Much as Adventures of Superman was rightfully considered an oasis amidst the New 52′s worst excesses post-Morrison and in part pre-Pak, few stories from it seem well-remembered now, and even at the time this third issue inexplicably seemed to draw little attention. Regardless, Matt Kindt and Stephen Segovia’s depiction of an hour in the life of Superman as he saves four planets first thing in the morning without anyone noticing - while clumsy in its efforts at paralleling the main events with a literal subplot of a conversation between Lois and Lex - is one of the best takes I can recall on the scope on which he operates, and ultimately the purpose of Clark Kent.

7. Man and Superman

Seemingly geared on every front against me, built as it was on several ideas of how to handle Superman’s origin I legitimately hate, and by a writer whose work over the years has rarely been to my liking, Marv Wolfman and Claudio Castellini’s Man and Superman somehow came out of nowhere to be one of my favorite takes on Clark Kent’s early days. With a Metropolis and characters within it that feel not only alive but lived-in, it’s shocking that a story written and drawn over ten years before it was actually published prefigured so many future approaches to its subject, and felt so of-the-moment in its depiction of a 20-something scrambling to figure out how to squeeze into his niche in the world when it actually reached stores.

6. Brian Bendis’s run

Controversial in the extreme, and indeed heir to several of Brian Bendis’s longstanding weaknesses as a writer, his work on The Man of Steel, Superman, and Action Comics has nevertheless been defined at least as much by its ambition and intuitive grasp of its lead, as well as fistfuls of some of the best artistic accompaniment in the industry. At turns bombastic space action, disaster flick, spy-fi, oddball crime serial, and family drama, its assorted diversions and legitimate attempts at shaking up the formula - or driving it into new territory altogether, as in the latest, apparently more longterm-minded unmasking of Clark Kent in Truth - have remained anchored and made palatable by an understanding of Superman’s voice, insecurities, and convictions that go virtually unmatched.

5. Strange Visitor

The boldest, most out-of-left-field Superman comic of the past 10 years, Joe Keatinge took the logline of Adventures of Superman to do whatever creators wanted with the character and, rather than getting back to a classic take absent from the mainline titles at the time as most others did, used the opportunity for a wildly expansive exploration of the hero from his second year in action to his far-distant final adventure. Alongside a murderer’s row of artists, Keatinge pulled off one of the few comics purely about how great Superman is that rather than falling prey to hollow self-indulgence actually managed to capture the wonder of its subject.

4. Superman: Up In The Sky

And here’s the other big “Superman’s just the best” comic the decade had to offer that actually pulled it off. Sadly if reasonably best-known for its one true misfire of a chapter, with the increasing antipathy towards Tom King among fans in general likely not helping, what ended up overlooked is that this is a stone-cold classic on moment of arrival. Andy Kubert turns in work that stands alongside the best of his career, Tom King’s style is honed to its cleanest edge by the 12-pager format and subject matter, and the quest they set their lead out on ends up a perfect vehicle to explore Superman’s drive to save others from a multitude of angles. I don’t know what its reputation will end up being in the long-term - I was struck how prosaic and subdued the back cover description was when I got this in hardcover, without any of the fanfare or critic quotes you’d expect from the writer of Mister Miracle and Vision tackling Superman - but while its one big problem prevents me from ranking it higher, this is going to remain an all-timer for me.

3. Jeff Loveness’s stories Help and Glasses

Cheating shamelessly here, but Jeff Loveness’s Help with David Williams and Glasses with Tom Grummett are absolutely two halves of the same coin, a pair of theses on Superman’s enduring relevance as a figure of hope and the core of Lois and Clark’s relationship that end up covering both sides of Superman the icon and Superman the guy. While basically illustrated essays, any sense of detached lecturing is utterly forbidden by the raw emotion on display here that instantly made them some of the most acclaimed Superman stories of the last several years; they’re basically guaranteed to remain in ‘best-of’ collections from now until the end of time.

2. Superman Smashes The Klan

A bitter race for the top spot, but #2 is no shame here; while not quite my favorite Superman story of the past ten years, it’s probably the most perfectly executed. While I don’t think anyone could have quite expected just *how* relevant this would be at the top of the decade, Gene Yang and Gurihiru put together an adventure in the best tradition of the Fleischer shorts and the occasional bystander-centered episodes of Batman: The Animated Series to explore racism’s both overt and subtle infections of society’s norms and institutions, the immigrant experience, and both of its leads’ senses of alienation and justice. Exciting, stirring, and insightful, it’s debuted to largely universal acknowledgement as being the best Superman story in years, and hopefully it’ll be continued to be marketed as such long-term.

1. Grant Morrison’s Action Comics

When it came time to make the hard choice, it came in no small part down to that I don’t think we would have ever seen a major Golden Age Superman revival project like Smashes The Klan in the first place if not for this. Even hampering by that godawful Jim Lee armor, inconsistent (if still generally very good) art, and a fandom that largely misunderstood it on arrival can’t detract from that this is Grant Morrison’s run on a Superman ongoing, a journey through Superman’s development as a character reframed as a coherent arc that takes him from Metropolis’s most beaten-down neighborhoods to the edge of the fifth dimension and the monstrous outermost limits of ‘Superman’ as a concept. It launched discussions of Superman as a corporate icon and his place relative to authority structures that have never entirely vanished, introduced multiple all-time great new villains, and made ‘t-shirt Superman’ a distinct era and mode of operation for the character that I’m skeptical will ever entirely go away. No other work on the character this decade had the bombast, scope, complexity, or ambition of this run, with few able to match its charm or heart. And once again, it was, cannot stress this enough, Grant Morrison on an ongoing Superman book.

[askmalal]

The heretic was bruised, beaten, the bones of his left hand crushed, his lips swollen. Dried blood had gathered beneath his nose, beneath his jaw, and on the inner tunic of his shirt.

Arbitrator Caractus was unhappy. They’d simply thrown the man into an interrogation cell, and expected her to register his information before he was handed off to... well, she wasn’t entirely sure. But she didn’t think anyone came back from it. The Inquisition? Perhaps. But the Arbites didn’t much care for the Inquisition. Prone to corruption. For all their faults, the Arbites were ruthless opponents of corruption. Even their worst enemies admitted that they may have been sadistic bastards, but they were bastards who always had a paper trail to document that sadism... Marielle Caractus was not sadistic. But she never really -had-met her father...

“Name?”

The heretic smiled. “Marcus Tertullius.”

He didn’t cackle madly. He didn’t laugh. He simply smiled. Almost... it was almost polite of him.

“Citizen Tertullius, you have been charged with...” she skimmed down the list. “Well, my. What an interesting evening you had!” She cleared her throat, “Distribution of heretical texts with the intention to incite civil disobedience. Possession of an outlawed weapon. Vandalism in the First Degree.Attempted sabotage of public works. Theft of Imperial Property. Threatening a member of the Urban Cohort. Threading an Arbitrator. Possession of bomb making materials. Shall I enter your pleas?”

“May I have a handkerchief, please?”

She passed one over. He nodded his thanks and cleaned the blood from his face. “To the first charge. I admit to owning the material and distributing it. I do not admit guilt in owning an heretical work, however.”

“You are aware that this is a banned work, and has been so since at least M32?”

“It wasn’t as if I had a copy of the Necronomicon, Arbitrator.” His voice was calm, pleasant.

“No. There were no M1 era Gallic texts on mortuary practices. Nor fictitious works of supernatural study in your possession, Citizen.”

Marcus smiled again. “My. You are well educated, Arbitrator.”

“And to the others?” She said, moving on.

“Intention to cause civil disobedience? While I contend this is a matter of,” he spat blood into the handkerchief, “of free will, I plead guilty. Absolutely, unabashedly guilty.”

She nodded, “You had in your possession an illegally modified Imperial Guard issue laspistol.”

Marcus laughed for the first time. “Imperial Guard issue. That is rich. It’s a family heirloom. I think you’ll find it is an antiquity. A legacy of an ancestor who fought for one of the Emperor’s sons in the Imperial Army. And I didn’t modify it one bit. I merely kept it clean and functional. Shame your jack booted morons had to damage it. Real history there.”

She frowned, “Can you substantiate that claim?”

Marcus nodded, “You will find the registry number, and the license we hold for it, and have, for literally ten thousand years.”

“Vandalism.”

“Guilty. Though I think it was an improvement.”

“You sprayed the words ‘cocksuckers’ across the statues of four different heroes of the Imperium. I hardly think it was an improvement.”

“Art is very... subjective, granted. They were Ecclesiarchs. Two were subsequently executed. I hardly think that qualifies as heroic, with or without the executions. Do you have a problem with art?”

Marielle raised an eyebrow, “No.”

“A problem with cock suckers then, Arbitrator?”

She smirked, “Art is a luxury wasted on the insane.”

“And cock suckers are wasted in a clerical life.” He coughed, covering his mouth, “the plea is guilty.”

“You do not seem to have much of a fear of the punishment which awaits you, Citizen Tertullius.”

“Fear is a luxury wasted on the faithless, Arbitrator.”

He was, by all rights, inviting a beating. And yet, his eyes were placid, he was fully lucid. He was not ranting or raving. A madman nonetheless. Beatings? Those were wasted on madmen.

“Attempted sabotage of public works.”

Marcus considered this. “I rather think I was successful, I didn’t merely attempt it.”

“It says here that you attempted to slice into the internal holonet data feeds for the administratum complex.”

“I did not,” Tertullius smiled, “I did not attempt it. I succeeded. Uploaded my data packet.”

Arbitrator Caractus scowled, “No virus was detected. Pictures, text then? Something about ‘cock suckers’ again, Citizen Tertullius?” Was he some sort of pervert? Was that his angle? Perhaps they’d labeled him a heretic misunderstanding his intent. Criminal, but..

He laughed, briefly. It was painful, and he was forced to cover his mouth again. “No. Copies of that so-called work of heresy. Self-Replicating.”

“I see.” She frowned. “So it is a sort of virus then. We should have it scrubbed.”

Marcus shook his head. “No need. It’s done it’s work already.”

She would have to look into that later.

“Bomb making materials?”

“Not guilty.”

“Proscribed chemicals and a timing mechanism were found in your apartment, Citizen.”

“Not an explosive. A smoke charge. Drives the sensors on the local police autocars crazy.”

“Smoke bombs are classified as explosives under the Proscribed Civilian Weapons Act, Explosives: Chapter 7, section 14, Amendment 457a.”

He shrugged. “I would clap, but the bastards broke my left hand.”

“Citizen,” she sighed, “your records are clean to this point. You make a better salary than most. You have a clean apartment and you own your own autocar. What could possibly motivate such behavior?”

Tertullius’ face was blank, but his answer was sincere. “Faith.”

“The Holy Books of our faith do not...” Marcus interrupted her, and his voice was hard. “Your faith. Not mine.”

“That is blasphemy, Citizen.”

“So is all of this,” he threw up his good arm, manacled to the left, gesturing, “all of it.” So. Now the ranting was come. She steeled herself.

“Be careful, citizen,” she cautioned, “you haven’t expressed such beliefs that can cause you significant pain. They might even be mercifully quick about it...”

“I do not fear your Inquisitors.”

“You should,” Marielle’s retort was sharp.

“When I was a Navy Armsman, oh, round about the time you probably began your training, I watched the Marines Malevolent vaporize a colony of monastic gardeners because they had evidence that an icon to a false god was being hidden in their vicinity. They killed them all. Burned their city. And found they’d got the coordinates wrong. The captain of my ship, he was horrified. Couldn’t do anything. I heard, a few years later, filing the report ended his career. The man had a Navy Cluster. He was a legitimate hero.”

“I am unsure how this affects your plea, citizen. I believe we are just about done here.”

“You asked me about my faith, Arbitrator. I do not lie. I lost my faith that day. It was the latest in a string of atrocities, acts of cowardice. Things that made my blood boil and my heart ache. Turns out, however, that I didn’t completely succeed as an atheist. That icon, you know. Of the false god? Our search parties never found it. Not officially. But... you know..” he leaned forward, beaming, “we did. Four of us. Miles away, in some bombed out bunker from generations past. It was a little thing. A book, the cover embossed with a circle, half white and half black and a pictogram I didn’t recognize. An archaic Terran text it turns out.”

“You should have turned it in, then.” Marielle sighed, “That’s another charge. They will likely execute you for it.”

“Oh, but we did, Arbitrator. To the Captain. After I’d read it cover to cover, of course.”

“Sweet Emperor, man! Do you want to be executed?!”

“Not particularly. But I have done my duty. I am at peace.”

“You are a madman” Marielle shook her head. “A lunatic. Those books. They say horrible things. They do horrible things. And now we’ll have to arrest otherwise innocent people, since you so kindly uploaded the damned thing to the data feed, and.”

“No. Not that one. What I uploaded came later. Though I suppose it could inspire a kind of madness.”

Marielle closed her notebook, “I think it’s time we parted company. You are of no use to anyone but...” she shook her head, “but them, now.”

There was a code burst, illuminating her helmet feed, and she switched it on for a moment, listening. “Yes,” she said to the other end, “come on ahead.” Caractus turned her attention back to Tertullius, “Arbitrator Webb will take your to your holding cell. I suggest you make peace with your maker.”

Tertullius smiled, “We are broken in his crucible to be reforged in his anvil.”

Cripes. A looney. An eerily calm looney. But a looney just the same. He said little else, and when Webb arrived, she merely passed him on with a shake of the head. “Lost cause, Dub.”

Webb shook his head, sympathetically, as best a man built like an aurochs could. “That’s a shame. I’m sure you got something useful from him. You always do with these things, Mary. See you on the flipside.” Webb’s powerful frame seemed to diminish the half-broken Tertullius; the man put up no fight but showed no fear. Whatever he had to say, he had said it. She watched her them go and shook her head again. What a waste.

Marielle turned her eyes back to the helmet feed, blinking away the messages that had filled her inbox. At last, she came to it. A text file.

“COMMON SENSE,” it read, “by Thomas Paine.”

More lunatic nonsense. She was preparing to delete it when another code burst came through. Webb again, “Just couldn’t stay away, eh Dubb?”

“Well. No. But... I’ve got some good news for you, Marielle. You get to go off duty just a bit early. Maybe we could get dinner?”

“Sure. But... why?”

“Well, we’ve been dating for three years, and I thought maybe we should take the bold step of dining together now and again.”

“No,” Caractus rolled her eyes. “Not that. Why the early shift?”

“Oh. That. Well, your interrogation tonight. Your vandal-cum-mad bomber-cum-heretic...”

“Yes. The calm, creepy one.”

“Pretty calm now. He’s dead. Died of injuries in the waiting pen.”

“What? You literally just picked him up.”

“Not really true. I picked him up hours ago. The street squad beat the hell out of him. We were hoping he’d stabilize before we brought him up to you.”

“Brought him up?!” Marielle blinked, “Again?”

“What do you mean ‘again?’”

“Are you joking, Dub?” She frowned.

“Oh, come on Mary. I’m sorry you didn’t get a chance to talk to him before he died. But better for him. Wouldn’t have survived the Inquisitors. But, if it makes you feel any better,” Webb’s voice reassured, “I am sure you would have got something useful out of him. You always do with these things.”

[izzy-b-hands]

London By Night, Chapter Three

Finally getting this out; some time out with Freddie and Rog, a visit to the Tate, and plans for dinner! Couldn’t be a nicer intro to London! 

My love to all who read/like/reblog! 

“This is to be expected,” Freddie said as you all ducked under the terrace the cafe. “You said you like rain, right?” 

You nodded, and watched as the rain thundered down. It had gone from sunny to pouring in seemingly seconds, and you were all soaked, but it hadn’t put a damper on things. 

“You learn to bring a coat, or an umbrella, or to expect you’ll end up soaked,” Roger said, and plucked a hand at your wet and now see-through white button up shirt. “We should have mentioned before we left, that’s on us. Also on us for not actually bringing an umbrella, now that I think about it.” 

Freddie turned and gasped. “Goodness, I didn’t even think about your shirt. Here.” 

He had his jacket, black silk and the tiniest garment you had seen in your life off in a flash. 

“Love, I appreciate it, but we are slightly differently sized,” you said softly. 

He wrapped it around your shoulders. “That’ll do for now, and we’ll stop in at a shop to get you something. The market might have something, in fact.” 

“We could run back and I could grab a coat,” you protested weakly. You hadn’t gotten your money changed over yet, and you didn’t want Freddie over-spending on your behalf. 

But you had also learned that Freddie wasn’t swayed when it came to buying and/or gifting things to those he loved, and as soon as the rain let up you were back on route, with Freddie window shopping as you went. 

“It’s odd that it gets cold enough to snow at night, but that this won’t freeze instantly,” you remarked as you walked. “I keep expecting to end up ass over teakettle, but it’s only puddles.” 

“That would have been the case back at home, I take it?” Roger asked. 

You nodded. “It gets cold there for winter and stays cold well into what should be the spring. Rain during January would be a cause for panic, because it means traveling on icy roads that, if I may be frank, are fucking hell.” 

“And the sidewalks?” 

“I once slipped and landed flat on my back, and since I was on a hill, I just let myself slide until I could roll into someone’s lawn,” you replied, wincing at the memory. “You should have seen me. I gave up and laid there for a good five minutes before I kept on walking home. Can’t imagine what the home owners were thinking during that time...” 

Freddie chuckled. “They should be so lucky to have you splayed out on their lawn. You weren’t hurt, were you?” 

You shrugged. “My pride more than anything else. There’s no dignified way to slip on ice. My back did have some lovely big bruises that took ages to fade though.” 

“Poor darling,” Freddie murmured, and pulled you close to him for a quick hug. “We’ll keep you indoors when it gets that cold here, and keep you safe.” 

“I appreciate it,” you said, and you meant it wholeheartedly. The thought of spending cold nights snuggled up warm with Freddie sounded perfect. 

“Hate to say, but it’ll be even colder in Germany,” Roger winced. “We’ll all want to be inside there, I imagine.” 

“Be worth it though,” Freddie said. “And if you like it here, then I think you’ll love the rest of Europe, Y/N. Lots of variety, and very...” 

“Not American?” you asked, watching as he searched for the word he wanted. 

“That’s about it, yes,” he smiled. “Even in the cold, I think you’ll find traveling around here to be to your taste.” 

So far, that certainly seemed to be the truth, because even in the cold rain, it was a joy to be wandering with them. They dipped in and out of various stories about the early days of Queen, even before they’d found John, about running the stall, anything and everything. 

“And I still have that coat,” Freddie said, finishing off the latest story.

“And I,” Roger said. “Will forever be apologizing for accidentally selling it.” 

“We got it back, that’s what counts,” Freddie said. “How are you doing, Y/N?” 

You hadn’t wanted to let on that your legs were starting to ache, but there was no hiding it now that you had slowed down a great deal. “Well..this is a big city.” 

“It is,” Roger chuckled. “Are you alright?” 

“I will be,” you replied. “How far away are we from our next stop?” 

“If we keep on in the order that was mentioned,” Freddie replied. “Then that’s the Tate first, and that’s still a ways off. We can take a break-” 

“No!” you interrupted, not meaning it one ounce. “I’m fine. This is fine.” 

“Back in Y/N’s hometown, things were closer to each other,” Freddie told Roger, and then turned to you. “So if this is a bit much, we really can stop.” 

“If we stop, I might not get started again,” you admitted. “I’ll get used to this, I promise.” 

“Of course you will,” Freddie said, and took you by the arm to lead you towards a nearby wall to lean against. “We could see about catching a bus, instead.” 

“No, no,” you said, but Roger and Freddie were already figuring it out, consulting about the location of the next stop and the necessary routes. 

“What about a cab?” Roger suggested. “Treat ourselves, since this is a special trip around anyway.” 

“Now, don’t you go to any extra expense on my behalf,” you protested weakly.

“We’ve been out for about...oh, forty minutes, of just walking?” Freddie mused. “You’ve made it decently far, for your first time out like this. There’s no shame in letting us treat you, and us by extension, with someone to drive us the rest of the way.” 

“What about getting back?” you posited. “Ah ha, what then?” 

“Then if it really bothers you so much, the cost of it all,” Freddie replied. “We’ll see about getting your money changed over, and you can cover it.” 

“That would do, actually,” you said. “Fine, you’ve won me over!” 

“I was kidding about that last bit,” Freddie said. “We can afford it.”

“No, I want to help pay my way for this!” you insisted.

Freddie shook his head. “I can’t talk you out of it, can I?” 

“You cannot,” you smiled as Roger did the frankly horrible work of trying to hail a cab while the rain continued to pour. “Should we help him?” 

“There’s not much we can do,” Freddie said. “It’s really-” 

“In the lap of the gods?” 

He smirked. “Clever. But actually, kind of. Though he is putting on a hell of a show.” 

Finally, Roger’s waving, cursing, and general dashing about the pavement paid off, and you were all tucked into a cab, headed for the Tate. 

“I’ll pay you both back for this ride,” you said. “And I’ll cover all of the one back, alright?” 

“We said this was a treat,” Roger said. “That means you don’t have to pay us back. Though if you want to pay for the ride home, go for it.” 

“But-” 

“Y/N,” Freddie interrupted gently. “This isn’t like a ‘treat’ with your family, where you still end up owing them somehow. Let us take care of you some. Enjoy the hospitality.” 

“God, you really do have stories from your holiday with them, don’t you?” Roger asked. “You’ve got to tell me more later, you know that, right?” 

“Tell you what,” Freddie said. “You come back with us and stay for dinner, and we’ll tell you all about it.” 

“Dinner and a show, I can’t possibly ask for more,” Roger smiled. “Unless you’d rather not talk about it, Y/N.” 

“I think it would be cathartic,” you said. “And I’d love to hear more about you two getting into trouble around here. I know there are more stories than what you’ve told me already.” 

“Always presuming trouble with us,” Roger joked. “As if we could ever get into trouble.” 

“Never,” Freddie said with a dramatic shake of his head. 

“That isn’t even remotely convincing, you do know that?” you giggled. 

“You sound just like my mum,” Roger sighed. 

“She sounds like a smart woman,” you said. 

“Now,” Roger fussed. “More of that and I won’t let you lecture at me about the art.” 

“How do you know I’m going to do that?” 

“Because,” Roger said. “You’re dating Freddie, and that’s what he does to me at museums. I presume I’m getting a coordinated bunch of lectures for this visit, with you two.” 

You laughed, but caught Freddie’s eye, and nodded. “Okay, yeah. That’s probably what it would have been. But I’ll refrain and restrain myself from it, I promise.” 

“No, you go ahead and do it! I don’t mind the occasional lecture,” Roger said. “So long as it’s coming from people I like. You, Freddie, Brian most of the time, John doesn’t necessarily lecture so much as he just gets going on a topic and doesn’t stop...” 

The cab stopped, and you found yourself giddy and speechless as you stepped out and followed them into the museum. 

“They’re adding on to this, did you know?” Freddie asked as he turned to make sure you kept close. “A whole new wing, so we’ll have to bring you back here once it’s opened.” 

“I’d like that,” you managed, taking his arm so you could walk and look and not lose them as you did. 

“Adorable,” Freddie laughed. “I don’t know if you’ll get any lectures from Y/N this time, Rog. He’s speechless; this place has broken him.” 

“In the best way,” you mumbled. “There’s so...much. I feel like I could spend days in here.” 

“Oh you could,” Roger said. “At least, I’m quite sure you could. And Freddie. Locked in here together after hours, and you probably wouldn’t even notice until they found you while opening up the next morning.” 

“That would be wonderful,” you sighed. 

They only laughed, and let you lead then as you bounced from artwork to artwork, returning to Freddie’s arm in between. 

---

“Two hours,” Roger mused as you exited the museum. “Not bad time. I thought we’d be in there the rest of the day.” 

“I’m almost overwhelmed,” you admitted. “Otherwise we might have been.” 

“A good overwhelmed?” Freddie asked, that beautiful and gentle concern in his eyes. 

“Yes,” you confirmed. “Just a lot, all at once. It’s all good, but I’ll certainly need another visit to take it all in decently.” 

“I think we can arrange that,” Freddie smiled. 

“No fucking near the artwork,” Roger scolded.

“Roger!” Freddie actually blushed, though no one in the crowd seemed to have noticed your conversation. 

“I’m just trying to help you out, making sure you two don’t get into any trouble for your next visit,” Roger said, hands held up in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger!” 

“Thank you,” Freddie told him with a laugh. “We’ll bear that in mind. Now, since this has been a lot, would you rather we head home, Y/N? We can always take you around more in the coming days, you know.” 

Your heart swelled for a moment at that. Home. You were home, truly home, for the first time in your life. And home was with him, and it was another thing that was almost too much, but in the best way. 

“Rog? Would you mind terribly if we cut the night short, and headed home? We could get an early dinner in a few hours, and hang out until then?” you asked. 

“I’m down for whatever,” Roger replied, again working to hail a cab. “At least it stopped raining.” 

As if on cue, thunder boomed, and Roger pointed to the sky. “Don’t you fucking dare.” 

“Does that work often?” you giggled as a cab approached, and you all piled inside. 

“No, but you can pretend you’ve got an iota of control over it for a moment, and that’s nice,” Roger answered. 

The rain started to pour again, and he grinned. “See, there’s the iota gone again. I had it for a second though.” 

Back at home, being rain-soaked yet again in the short time it took to get out of the cab and into the flat meant that you were all in need of fresh clothes. 

“That’s never going to be anything but cute, you know that?” you asked as you watched Roger go through Freddie’s clothes. 

“What is?” 

“You two, and the clothes sharing!” you replied. “Convenient in times like this, as well.” 

“Thank goodness for it,” Roger said as he changed. “Also, isn’t this sweatshirt Brian’s?” 

Freddie had been setting the table (really just the coffee table for sake of ease of conversation, but he had fine china to put out on it nonetheless) and ducked his head in. “Maybe? How can you tell?” 

Roger lifted his arms, and a good amount of extra material hung off of his hands.

“Ah, yes, that’s his,” Freddie confirmed. “You’ll learn that little trick, Y/N. You know it’s Brian’s if it hangs off of the rest of us in the arms-” 

“And if Bri has something on that should be long-sleeved, but it’s more like three quarters on him, then he’s wearing something of ours,” Roger interrupted and continued. “Ought to ask him where he got this; I like it.” 

“Just hang onto it, and you can give it back to him the next time he’s over at yours,” Freddie said. “Now, we should figure out dinner. We could go pick something up; I think the rain has lifted finally. But we’ll bring an umbrella just in case of course, and-” 

The ringing of the doorbell interrupted him, and you leaned out the bedroom door as he went to answer it. 

He peeked through the spyhole in the door, and sighed. 

“Y/N? You aren’t going to fucking believe this.” 

You strode over, and he moved to let you peek out as well. 

There, looking damp from the recently-ended rain, stood your mother. 

[the-potter-analyst]

Chapter 4 - At Flourish and Blotts

Harry Potter and the Sacred Text word of the day: Shame

I uh,, dropped the ball on this one. I read the chapter before Christmas but didn't listen to the podcast episode until now,,,, whoops lol.

I read At Flourish and Blotts from the perspective of people feeling ashamed or embarrassed, but the hosts also made a good point of how people are also shaming others. Obviously the main point of shame in the chapter surrounds the idea of wealth and possessions: the Weasleys feeling ashamed that they have very little wealth, while Harry is ashamed for being wealthy, and also Lucius, who'd feel embarrassed if he's found with certain items in his possession. When George was talking about how expensive Lockhart’s books would be, I thought about college textbooks and how elitist colleges can be with just assigning the latest edition of books (I’m looking at you science departments). The scene also made me wonder if the Weasleys passed down their school books to younger siblings, since besides DADA, all their books would be the same in each year. Idk the chapter gave me the impression that they still buy the assigned books every year (since Ron grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells), and that makes no sense. Also, do students not need new books for other classes?? All that was listed was The Standard Book of Spells and Lockhart’s books lol.

I love that while the Weasleys are poor, they are one of the most generous families that Harry interacts with. Harry in turn does everything he can to return that generosity, like sharing his Nimbus Two Thousand, giving his free books to Ginny, and buying ice cream for his friends. The hosts talked about how Harry delicately manages how he acts around the Weasleys because he doesn’t want to flaunt the fact that he has a small fortune. So he accepts their hospitality, but gives back in small ways without it seeming like “charity.” So he takes turns riding his broom with Ron, George, and Fred; he doesn’t want Lockhart’s free books because he received them through his fame, so he gives them to Ginny; he buys ice cream for Ron and Hermione, but also gets one for himself. Even in the first book, he traded half of his candy for Ron’s homemade sandwich (since he never had something homemade like that).

There's also little moments of shame, like Ginny being embarrassed for the way she acts around Harry (as well as her brothers, who tease her for it), and George exclaiming that he couldn’t stand the shame if they had another Head Boy in the family lmao. Reminds me how I sometimes say eating with silverware with food that’s supposed to be eaten with your hands is uncivilized lol. I’m sure Arthur and Molly often talk about how good of students Bill, Charlie, and Percy were, and in the perspective of the twins who aren’t talked about with pride in that way, they probably find it very annoying. So George is flipping that pride in academics on its head, calling it a shame instead. I like how the podcast hosts worded it: reappropriating shame.

Speaking of Percy, the hosts also talked about his shame of his family, but in turn he’s shamed for being ambitious. Though I think his younger siblings tease him less because he’s ambitious in general, but more because he wants success for himself alone. And the fact that Percy is trying to distance himself from his family.

An interesting place that I didn’t expect shame to appear was with Lucius when he was selling things to Mr. Borgin. He specifically said “I have a few items at home that might embarrass me if the Ministry were to call.” Lucius is all about appearances, so considering he made a big show about going to the good side, being found with objects enchanted by Dark Arts wouldn’t look so good. He even told Draco to at least act like he’s fond of Harry because he’s the hero who defeated Voldemort. Also for all the talk Draco says about how his father gives him this and that, the scene at Borgin and Burkes comes a bit as a surprise since all Lucius does is reprimand Draco. Draco seems like that spoiled kid pushing their parent’s buttons to see what they can get away with. And at this moment he finds out he can’t get his father to buy him Dark Arts objects lol. Also that his father is very done with his complaining about a certain muggle born and famous kid.

I want to take a moment to appreciate Ginny. Not only did she stand up to Draco, but she did it in front of Harry when she could barely say a word to him. She’s also very observant since he understood that Harry doesn’t like being the center of attention, which makes sense considering she has a crush on him. I’m sure she watches him quite often lol.

Small things:

Harry finding the fact that the Weasleys actually liked him to be the most unusual thing while living at the Burrow.... like.... kid

How did the Weasleys expect Harry to get Floo Powder right the first time when he’s never heard of it until that moment lol. Molly has every right to fuss about it

A lot of those trinkets in Borgin and Burkes are important in book 6!

I love how the first thing that both Hargid and Molly do when seeing Harry is try to dust off the soot he’s covered with. Like parents after their kid rolled around in the dirt lol

*Files Ron being looked over for Harry Potter at Flourish and Blotts under Ron’s Insecurities*

Do you say “Loo-shus” or “Loo-see-us”?

Special shout out to Hagrid for being at the right places at the right time (◕‿◕✿)

Previous: Chapter 3 - The Burrow

Next: Chapter 5 - The Whomping Willow

[featherymalignancy]

Like a Lonely House Snippet

Hello! I know I’ve been a ghost recently, but I just wanted to come back and say that I am still alive and still writing. I posted a short snippet from the latest LaLH chapter a week or so ago, but it was in the context on an ask so I think it got a little lost in the shuffle. I’ve decided to repost a longer version here! Please enjoy, and look for the latest chapter soon!

Like A Lonely House Chapter Four Teaser: 

“It’s beautiful here,” Nesta said gazing over the balcony.

The trees around them where ancient and covered in a lush emerald moss that still shone in the low light of the braziers, and the air, though biting, held the fresh aroma of pine and snow.

Adan gave a soft huff of appreciation, coming to join her at the stone railing and admiring the tapestry of stars woven overhead.

“Nothing so fine as what you’ve seen in the south, I’m sure. Even within the Night Court Illyria is considered a rather savage and untamed land."

Despite his words, Nesta could sense his connection to the wilderness that surrounded them. She watched, slightly breathless, as he tipped his head back to allow the wind to run its chill fingers through his hair.  She could not help but admire how dashing he looked with his features bared.

“I like wild things,” she admitted after a moment.

Truth be told, she was half-wild herself, especially with the leviathan that now lurked beneath her skin.

Adan turned to grin at her, his face boyish despite its sharp angles.

“Then you will love Illyria.”

Nesta forced herself to hold his stare for a moment, trying to imagine what a life with him might be like. She would have to be blind not to recognize how handsome he was, and his obsidian eyes brimmed with intelligence and good humor. Still, the only thing she felt when looking at him was a longing for what she’d left behind in Velaris.

She flushed, looking away. She’d sworn to herself when she’d decided to come here that she wouldn’t think about him. She hated herself that even standing here with Adan, his offer an unspoken tether between them, she couldn’t seem to stop.

She realized the prince was still watching her, and she tightened her grip on the railing in an effort to master herself.  

“May I be honest, my lady?” he said.

“I welcome it,” she said at length, trying and failing to muster the courage to face him again.

Adan took the answer as permission to step closer to her, so near now that his boots brushed the hem of her resplendent gown. His eyes did not stray lower than her chin, but she could hear his pulse quicken slightly at their proximity, heart beating in time with hers.

“I had heard tales of your beauty, but none of them do you justice. You are—“ he considered her with scrutiny, and she flushed deeper, fending off distant fury at being so brazenly assessed. “Without equal.”

“Your flattery is appreciated, but unnecessary. I know why you asked for my hand. You needn’t pretend this is anything other than it is,” Nesta said.

“Perhaps,” Adan mused, face contemplative now. “But if we are to move forward with this arrangement, I wish to be clear in my expectations. This is more than a political threatre for me. I desire children from this union.”

He paused, wetting his plush lower lip as he studied her.

“More than that, I want a wife. Someone to share my bed as much as my title.”

Nesta stiffened, even as unexpected desire slithered through her, followed by a stab of guilt.

“Are you propositioning me?” she demanded, trying for more authority than she felt.

Adan reacted to her sharpness at once, giving her a solid look while still holding his ground. If he’d heard of her ungodly powers, he certainly didn’t seem cowed by them.

“Of course not. Not until we’re married. After though, I would like to enjoy you—often. I need to know that idea doesn’t frighten you.”

Nesta turned away again, needing to catch her breath.

“It doesn’t.”

“But it doesn’t give you any pleasure either, it seems,” Adan said, a frown playing at his sensuous lips.

“I’m just—not used to discussing these things in such bald terms,” Nesta choked.

Adan huffed a soft laugh.

“Forgive me. That is the Illyrian way, but I know it’s not yours.” He paused, seeming to study her body language before continuing. “Still, I wish to be honest in my expectations. I would see you bear me beautiful sehzana and strong Illyrian warriors, and I would have you naked and wanting in my bed every night.”

Nesta could feel him studying her bare back and she continued to face out towards the night beyond, and she fought not to shiver as his inviting masculine scent washed over her. However, when he trailed a knuckle down her unclothed spine, she couldn’t fend off a pleasured shudder. Shame rose to scorch her cheeks even as her back arched involuntarily. It had been so long since anyone had touched her, and she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it.

“ I could make it very good for you,” he breathed, pressing close enough that his lips almost brushed her neck as he continued in a low voice, “if you’d let me. Illyrian males are instructed in the art of pleasuring our females.”

If you enjoyed this but have no clue what the h*ckin’ h*ck is going on in this snippet, check out the Like a Lonely House masterlist HERE

[eddycurrents]

For the week of 18 February 2019

Quick Bits:

Aquaman #45 gives us a new creation story with Father Sea and Mother Salt. It’s interesting world-building for what’s going on on this island. Robson Rocha, Daniel Henriques, and Sunny Gho seem to level up on their art again. This book is gorgeous.

| Published by DC Comics

Avengers #15 continues the vampire civil war, with the Shadow Colonel basically kidnapping Ghost Rider. Jason Aaron is definitely taking this series in weird places, but it remains highly entertaining. Especially with collaborators like David Marquez and Erick Arciniega who deliver some incredible artwork.

| Published by Marvel

Avengers: No Road Home #2 reveals how Nyx and her family took Olympus. There’s also a neat parallel narration for Hawkeye explaining how the guy with just a bow and arrows can take on gods and monsters. The art from Paco Medina, Juan Vlasco, and Jesus Aburtov is gorgeous, they really seem to pushing themselves with their storytelling. It’s just a shame that none of the artists are credited on the cover.

| Published by Marvel

Barbarella/Dejah Thoris #2 is ridiculously impressive. Leah Williams, Germán García, Addison Duke, and Crank! are delivering an intelligent, humorous, and compelling adventure tale here that reminds me a lot of some of what Alan Moore and Chris Sprouse did in Tom Strong. It’s incredibly inventive and the artwork is amazing. Highly recommended.

| Published by Dynamite

Batman #65 gives us the penultimate chapter of “The Price”, featuring an all out battle between Flash, Gotham Girl, and Gotham. The artwork from Guillem March and Tomeu Morey is stunning, with some incredible layouts as the action continues.

| Published by DC Comics

Black Widow #2 is fairly bloody and violent as Natasha racks up a body count tracking down the people running “No Restraints Play”, a site that specializes in depravity. Flaviano’s line art seems scratchier than the first issue, but it works for the violent tone of story.

| Published by Marvel

Bloodborne #9 begins the third arc, “A Song of Crows”, as Aleš Kot, Piotr Kowalski, Brad Simpson, Aditya Bidikar, and Jim Campbell spotlight Eileen the Crow. This is a bit of return to the kind of abstract storytelling and embrace of oblique existentialism of the first arc as Eileen investigates the ritual murder of a hunter, but is confounded by time and holes in the narrative.

| Published by Titan

Catwoman #8 is ostensibly the “conclusion” to “Something Smells Fishy”, but it doesn’t actually end the story in any way and leaves the reader at a cliffhanger of continuing elements. That being said, it’s still an entertaining issue from Joëlle Jones, Elena Casagrande, Fernando Blanco, John Kalisz, and Josh Reed. Wonderful action sequences, and more questions as to the nature of a reliquary that seems to contain resurrective powers.

| Published by DC Comics

Delver #1 begins a new Comixology Original series from MK Reed, C. Spike Trotman, Clive Hawken, Maarta Laiho, and Ed Dukeshire. It’s a very intriguing and unique take on the fantasy gaming theme of a dungeon full of treasure and monsters with delvers working to plumb the depths. But it’s from the perspective of the townsfolk whose land the door to the dungeon appears in and how it changes and impacts their lives. 

| Published by Iron Circus Comics

Doctor Strange #11 concludes the battle with Dormammu and the Faltine, for now at least, from Mark Waid, Jesús Saiz, Javier Pina, Rachelle Rosenberg, and Cory Petit. Some very nice art as usual from Saiz, Pina, and Rosenberg.

| Published by Marvel

Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man #3 continues “Mother of Exiles” from Tom Taylor, Juann Cabal, Nolan Woodard, and Travis Lanham as Peter finds out a bit about the rumours regarding his neighbour and Under York, another duplicate New York City under New York City, that oddly isn’t the Monster Metropolis. Great humour from Taylor in the dialogue.

| Published by Marvel

Guardians of the Galaxy #2 takes a somewhat different approach as Peter Quill drunk dials Kitty as he tries to make sense of what’s going on with Thanos, Gamora, everyone who’s dead, and the current state of the Guardians. Donny Cates, Geoff Shaw, Marte Gracia, and Cory Petit are really taking this series into interesting offbeat territory, while still delivering some excellent humour and an ominous feel to Starfox’s new band of “guardians”.

| Published by Marvel

Incursion #1 begins a new mini picking up on where the Eternal Warrior and Geomancer are since Harbinger Wars 2 and Ninja-K, and pit them against Imperatrix Virago, a cosmic villain that is devouring worlds (kind of like if Galactus were pestilence), from Andy Diggle, Alex Paknadel, Doug Braithwaite, José Villarrubia, Diego Rodriguez, and Marshall Dillon. The art is incredible, the stakes seem pretty high, and the outlook after this first issue look pretty grim for Earth.

| Published by Valiant

James Bond 007 #4 sees Stephen Mooney join Greg Pak, Tríona Farrell, and Ariana Maher for the art chores for three issues, continuing the tale of Bond and “Oddjob”’s team-up. Like Marc Laming, Mooney seems to be born to draw Bond and espionage themed stories.

| Published by Dynamite

Judge Dredd: Toxic #4 concludes what has been an excellent series dealing with xenophobia and hateful rhetoric from Paul Jenkins, Marco Castiello, Vincenzo Acunzo, Jason Millet, Shawn Lee, and Robbie Robbins. I’ve always found non 2000 AD Judge Dredd stories to be a bit of crapshoot, but IDW have been delivering well with the past two mini-series, this and Under Siege.

| Published by IDW

Justice League #18 is the latest excursion into the Legion of Doom territory from James Tynion IV, Pasqual Ferry, Hi-Fi, and Tom Napolitano. It works with some of the revelations from last issue regarding Martian Manhunter and builds a new narrative for Lionel Luthor’s past and his work with Vandal Savage. It’s interesting to see Tynion working with variations on discarded continuities in this way, building a new past that synthesizes pre-Flashpoint ideas with the current batch of backstories.

| Published by DC Comics

Middlewest #4 only seems to be getting better and better as more of this world and how it seems to work get fleshed out by Skottie Young, Jorge Corona, Jean-Francois Beaulieu, and Nate Piekos. There’s something incredibly magical and special about this series that taps into the feeling of some of the best coming-of-age fantasies as it blends Ray Bradbury, JM Barrie, and Carlo Collodi into this magical realist adventure.

| Published by Image

Miles Morales: Spider-Man #3 concludes the opening arc from Saladin Ahmed, Javier Garrón, David Curiel, and Cory Petit by adding Captain America to Miles & Rhino’s team-up. This has been a very entertaining start to the series, with a nice mix of Miles’ personal life and superheroics.

| Published by Marvel

Naomi #2 reasserts that Jamal Campbell is a powerhouse of an artist and one of the best kept secrets of the past few years who really should have a higher profile. His art is amazing. It also helps that the story he, Brian Michael Bendis, David F. Walker, and Carlos M. Mangual are telling is as compelling as this, as Naomi confronts Dee as she tries to learn about the day of her adoption. It’s very widescreen and epic as it hints at the broader DC Universe, but at the same time this is very deeply personal.

| Published by DC Comics

Old Man Quill #2 gives the Guardians a taste of the depravity and despair that Earth has fallen to in this post-superhero world. Ethan Sacks shows there’s still a bit of humour left, though, in that Piledriver’s descendent thinks that Piledriver was one of the all-time greats. Also the art from Robert Gill and Andres Mossa gives a wonderful amount of detail to the wastelands.

| Published by Marvel

Relay #4 returns after a delay with new artist Dalibor Talajić (I believe Andy Clarke had to bow out due to illness, but I’m not 100% sure on that). Talajić’s art style is not as bright and clean as Clarke’s, giving a darker, shadowy approach that results in the bleak, horror elements of the story coming further into focus.

| Published by AfterShock

Seven to Eternity #13 returns from its own lengthy delay to conclude the arc in Skod, with the revelation of part of Adam’s choice to save the Mud King. It reiterates the theme since the beginning that there seem to be no good choices in this world, that everything tainted, despite Adam’s father believing the world black and white. While we are going into another trade break, Rick Remender, Jerome Opeña, Matt Hollingsworth, and Rus Wooton consistently make this worth the wait.

| Published by Image / Giant Generator

Sharkey: The Bounty Hunter #1 is the latest of Mark Millar’s Netflix feeder series, after The Magic Order and Prodigy, with Simone Bianchi and Peter Doherty rounding out the team. This one feels a bit like if Warren Ellis were writing Strontium Dog, and it works. The artwork from Bianchi is worth it on its own. Gorgeous character designs.

| Published by Image

Venom #11 is another holy crap issue from Donny Cates, Ryan Stegman, Joshua Cassara, JP Mayer, Frank Martin, and Clayton Cowles. There are some really big revelations about Eddie and his family that really need to be read firsthand. Amazing work.

| Published by Marvel

X-O Manowar #24 reminds us again just how good of an artist and storyteller Tomás Giorello is. The action sequences and battle between Aric and Hesnid is incredible, with fairly inventive layouts that just elevate the overall impact of the pages. Giorello and Diego Rodriguez really make this something joyous to behold.

| Published by Valiant

Other Highlights: American Carnage #4, Bitter Root #4, Black Badge #7, The Black Order #4, Breakneck #3, Coda #9, Death Orb #5, DuckTales #18, East of West #41, Evolution #14, Exorsisters #5, Go Bots #4, Grumble #4, High Level #1, Hot Lunch Special #5, Jessica Jones: Purple Daughter #2, Jim Henson’s Beneath the Dark Crystal #5, Jim Henson’s Labyrinth: Discovery Adventure, Jughead: The Hunger #12, Lightstep #4, The Lone Ranger #5, Lucifer #5, Lumberjanes #59, Mars Attacks #5, Monstress #20, Outpost Zero #7, Rainbow Brite #4, Shuri #5, Solo: A Star Wars Story #5, Star Wars Adventures #18, Starcraft: Soldiers #2, Stronghold #1, Sukeban Turbo #4, Superb #17, TMNT: Urban Legends #10, Teen Titans #27, Turok #2, The Unstoppable Wasp #5, The Witcher: Of Flesh and Flame #3

Recommended Collections: Amazing Spider-Man - Volume 2: Friends & Foes, Bedtime Games, The Beauty - Volume 5, Black Lightning: Brick City Blues, Captain America - Volume 1: Winter in America, Days of Hate - Volume 2, High Crimes, Infinity 8 - Volume 3: The Gospel According to Emma, Old Man Hawkeye - Volume 2: The Whole World Blind, The Punisher - Volume 1: World War Frank, West Coast Avengers - Volume 1: Best Coast

d. emerson eddy would do anything for a Klondike bar, but he won’t do that.

[millennial-star-gazer]

Tantric Flames (Reupload from previous accounts): Chapter: 3

Tantric Flames

Originally for Nalu Week/Fluff Week/Lovefest 2017 (on previous accounts)

Genres: Romance, Humor, New Adult Fanfiction

Nalu Lovefest 2017 Prompts: Lust, Stockings/Lingerie, Sweets (Implied) Dreams(Implied) Games and Roleplay (Kind of Implied in Form of Teasing )

Upcoming Nalu Love Fest 2018 prompts: Kiss/Makeup (kind of) Playful, Desperate, Unbearable, Estatic ,(Implied) and Teasing 

Pairing:Nalu (Natsu x Lucy)

Rating: M for language, steamy and mature adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Direction is advised.(You’ve been warned!)

Summary: One look, one smouldering hooded gaze, one word, one fiery kiss, one magnetizing touch was all he needed for her to completely unravel at his mercy alone, succumbing to the sinful temptation of her inhibitions, his love, his feral passion, his raw, insatiable desires, his "Tantric Flames". Originally an Submission (slight Au) for Nalulovefest 2017 (on previous accounts) in which Natsu gives his mate a tantric massage-after much persuasion- she won't soon forget when it turns into so much more. Also previous featured in Nalu Week , and Fluff Week with first two chapters.

Chapter 3:Play With Fire

A/N: Hey guys, the former cosmicdragonwizard/ celestialgeekmage here with another installment of Tantric Flames (originally for Nalu Lovefest 2017) to be enjoyed! I've been working away at this latest chapter for just over a month and I must say I'm fairly pleased with how it all turned out so for which I hope you all will be too!

Special thanks to @soprana-snap/soprana and  @wildrhov whose suggestions along with their guidance and feedback were a great help for an upcoming scene in the next chapter! ( I also owe my gratitude to @not-just-any-fangirl and @rivendell101 whose various fantastic Nalu fics also served as a phenomenal resource guide in helping me write this chapter.

Now without further ado, here's Chapter 3!

Disclaimer: You know I unfortunately don't own Fairytail which belongs to the most Hiro-sensei instead!

Read More Here:

1.Tantric Flames

A. Tumblr

Chapter: 1 (Click Here:)  (or here:https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179863946153/tantric-flames-reupload-from-cosmicdragonwizard/amp?)

Chapter: 2  (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179864399283/tantric-flames-reupload-from-previous-accounts/amp)

   Chapter: 3    Chapter: 4   (Click Here:) or here: (https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179871908778/tantric-flames-reupload-from-previous-accounts/amp?)

Chapter: 5  (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179872139218/tantric-flamesreupload-from-previous-accounts)

Chapter: 6 (Click Here:)   (Or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/183149105838/tantric-flames-chapter-6-despojado-stripped) 

Chapter: 7 (Click Here:)  (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/185033161848/tantric-flames-chapter-7-what-belongs-to-a-fire)

Chapter: 8 (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/188352271948/tantric-flames-chapter-8-tantric-art-of)

Chapter:9 (Click Here:)   (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/624402662880854016/tantric-flames-chapter-9)

B. Fanfiction (Click Here:) (or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13114990/1/Tantric-Flames-reupload-from-cosmicdragonwizardaccounts)

C. A03 (Click Here:)  (or here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17063882/chapters/40123739)

2. The Draconic  Demon Within

A. Tumblr:

Prologue and Chapter: 1 (Click Here:) (or here:https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179816192273/the-draconic-demon-within-reupload-from/amp?)

Chapter: 2 (Click Here:)  (or here:https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179816192273/the-draconic-demon-within-reupload-from/amp?)

B. Fanfiction (Click Here:) (or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13113898/1/The-Draconic-Demon-Within-Reupload-from-cosmicdragonwizardaccounts)

3. Grey Days

A. Tumblr  (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179767381833/grey-days-reuploadfrom-dragon-shield-maiden/amp?)

B. Fanfiction  (Click Here:) (or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13112482/1/Grey-Days-Reupload-from-dragon-shield-maiden)

4. The Rest of My Writing

A. Master Fic Rec Post (Click Here): (or  here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179665258923/master-fic-rec-post

Legend:

Italic: Song Lyrics

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics (Within and Outside Bracket) including for author's side notes also known as (A/N:) within brackets (though none for side-notes in this chapter ).

"A house of red light

Burns like your wanting eyes

The rain is away

And we say

We will play with fire

We will play with fire..."

(The Birthday Massacre: Play With Fire)

"Thanks Cancer."

" Anytime - my pleasure. Enjoy your special romantic spa date with Natsu-aka your main squeeze baby.

"Thank you, I'm sure I will- talk to you later.

Lucy bade a fond farewell to the dissipating spirit she summoned, who had been gracious enough to fix her blonde tresses into a stylish French-tendril-style bun for her date, before making her own way down the stairs into the library basement library. Burning candle-herbal incense of the soothing nature-type variety co-mingling with the all-too-heavenly fragrance of vanilla and lavender-quite the divine combo really- parading across the blondes senses was the first to greet her ;  along with the lovely sound of an ethereal voice of singing over familiar melody of a sensual synth-pop song floating in the air through the guild's lacrima speakers; that she'd so often heard  on Magnolia's beloved, cult-favorite, alternative, radio station .

"A house of red light

Burns like your wanting eyes

You The rain is away

And we say

We will play with fire

We will play with fire..."

What a lovely song to greet me on the way in... Lucy mused in awe, pausing a  moment to fully revel in the sights and sounds before her. And the scented candles with the incense... God the scent is to die for!

Honey -brown eyes were scanning the room to fully take stock of the sights and sounds before her : where dimmed lighting set the mood for scented lacrima candles illuminating the path along hardwood by bookshelves to a rose-and cherry blossom petal covered-leather massage bed with twinkling, fairy lights overhead . In the centre of the chestnut surface of a small , adjacent end table nearby was a twine basket overtop with a whole assorted collection of goodies ranging from massage lotions to oils; above a compact cloth bag on the shelf containing God-only knows what though enough to pique the celestial Mage's curiosity .

All in all quite the impressive display of effort Natsu went into setting this up if I do say so myself-though wonder where he is?

"Natsu, you there?" Lucy called out, liquid brown eyes searching the space for where her elusive- if-not-also-drop-dead-sexy pyromaniac- she was more than-proud to call her soulmate.

"In here Luce- coming out now."

Natsu's sunny voice floated in from the adjacent room he emerged from, a warm smile lighting his emerald eyes dazzling enough to for Lucy's breath to catch in her throat.

A simple, meek, "Hey" , was all Lucy could manage in subdued earnest to pass her lips, after her heart was too busy doing backflips as he sauntered over to close the gap .

"Hey yourself, beautiful- glad you could make it" came his soft, gravelly rumble before touching his lips to hers in a the briefest, most delicate of kisses sending a rush of warmth through her bones when gathering her hands to clasp in his at the same time. It was after Natsu pulled away just enough a moment later, that it dawned on Lucy he was shirtless-save for his scarf- much to her delight ; liquid- brown roaming over exposed chiseled grooves of corded, lean, muscle that she longed to run her hand along; accentuated by the defined v-flare of his hips in distressed navy denim which didn't seem to go unnoticed by the subject of her not-so-discreet fond admiration; whose corners of lips were pulling up into that trademark-devilish-crooked-little of smirk of his.

"Like what you see , I take it then Lucy?" Natsu drawled out , roguish words laced with a languid purr, throwing in a wink as if swiping the tounge across his canines for good measure wasn't enough;which her eyes caught. "Figured you could use some sexy  eye candy  to feast your eyes on your date courtesy of yours truly.."

"Well it is a pretty nice view after all,  if  I do say so myself," Lucy offered demurely in somewhat not-so-unabashed admission, trying her damnest not to think about how hot and bothered I am by this hot and drop-dead sexy piece of perfection standing in front of me right now when her throat ran dry. " though am I correct to assume you did that whole swiping your tounge across your canines to draw attention thing just to tempt me?"

"That you are Luce-guilty as charged," Natsu admitted, emerald eyes sparkling with mirth . "Though if I recall correctly i believe someone here has a thing for my teeth when they once said and I quote: 'Oh Levy.. I don't know what it is but I swear to God I have a thing for Natsu's canines ... There's just Something about those -especially when he flashes them in those little wicked little grins or come-hither-kind-of smirks of his- that makes him look even more drop dead sexy and dangerous than he already is.. like he promises to do bad-very -bad-but-fun-things to me if I just let him."

"Shut up," The summoner mumbled in a faint quip, trying as she might in vain to completely ignore the flaming sensation of heat spreading across her flushed cheeks . She was seriously wondering if it was possible in any way, shape or form for a person to be driven to early an grave from their own shame-no matter how minor; not to mention turning over the notion of summoning Virgo in her mind to dig up a large hole-at least-for me-to-crawl into after hearing the details of my not-so-secret-kink brought up.

The fetish in question was in relation to the motion of Natsu's tounge sweeping across his sharp incisors to draw attention to his teeth she so often could recall dragging along the pulse point he sucked on whenever it got hot and heavy between them. The ever brash-if-not-also untamed dragon slayer seemed to  revel in the love bites as much as she did receiving for jewel-like marks to decorate her skin which was often enough to send endorphins pumping through her veins; not mention a electrifying jolt down south.

The hickeys are definitely part of the reason for one of my fetishes, though how they seem add an extra sexy touch in a feral-wild-child kind of a way to his already drop-dead good lucks which  definitely doesn't hurt.

"I don't see why you need to bring it up ---or be gloating about it for that matter either."

"Cuz you love it and we both know it" Natsu fired back without missing a beat, baritone coming out as unapologetically smooth- not to mention smug, if not also flippant; not sounding repentant at all really.

"That I do."

"My thoughts exactly and sides' it's nothing to be embarrassed about-we all have our kinks. Anyway,no use dwelling' on what those may be for other people now . How bout' we get this romantic party for two of ours started- though I believe I'm entitled to a sneak peak to what's under your robe?"

"My sentiments exactly-you took the words right out of my mouth and I think you'll be quite pleased with what I see."

"I'm sure I will, now why don't you show me?"

"Kay..."

Lucy's hands working to unfasten her belt, she pulled open the kimono to reveal a flame-encased starry print on midnight-blue Demi- bra with periwinkle lace trim paired with matching tanga-style panties. Smouldering emerald raked over her lingerie-clad taut form, drinking in the sight of Natsu's beloved soulmate before him sending a thrill down her spine at his appraisal ; which earned her a low whistle in the back of his throat.

"Sexy!" Her hot -headed pyromaniac-of a boyfriend murmured, his words thick with praise-laden desire ; while his heated fingers reached to caress the skin just above the swell of her breasts shooting heated tendrils of embers through her nerves. "Did'ya throw this little  number on just for me?"

"Indeed I did," Lucy replied, practically melting under Natsu's simmering emerald gaze along with his feather light-touch."though not just for your benefit, but for mine as well. I really love the design on this piece which just so happens to be one of my favourite sets from the Heart-Cruz Lingerie intimates collection-especially since the star-encased flame print really seems symbolic of our love. Kind like a celestial maiden and a fire dragon prince coming together, you know? Plus I figured it would be to quite to all your liking , what with how it looked on me and the connection to our relationship."

"Well it definitely is and I really appreciate how much thought you put into your outfit" was what Natsu hummed in in awe," tucking a stray blonde tendril behind her ear with such soft, tenderhearted abandon that her fluttery heart skipped a fluttery beat. "Though that's only part of the icing on the cake considering how I seriously can't get over how much I love this little number on you. Seriously Luce, you look hella gorgeous-not to mention incredibly sexy right now!"

"Why thank you, Natsu and you don't look so bad yourself-really appreciate the view," came the summoner's coy response, emboldened by her boyfriend exultant praise to the point of a running a hand down his chiseled plains; the action only seeming to serve to act as a catylst for a shudder to rack his frame before the next thing she knew he was claiming her petal-soft lips in a series of light taps: one, two, then three, growing firmer with each pass until he deepened the kiss with a smooth texture that tasted divine. Robust hands meanwhile pressed on the curve of her spine arching into Natsu's touch a moment later to pull her more flush against him , molten-electric heat thrumming under skin where his fingers danced; when her hands twined together around the nape of his neck at the same time .

Lucy swore she could see sparks flying in the heat or the moment when he was hooking a hand under her knee to hitch a leg over his waist lifting her hips up against him, while the other skated along down to palm her ass through her panties for a squeeze. The action was bold enough to coax a keening noise somwhere between gasp and airy moan as follow up out of the enraptured Mage swallowed by a more-than-eager- fire wizard high off the thrill of the moment, nipping then tugging her lower lip in retaliation to her nails scoring down his back (no doubt leaving a trail of marks). The sound was further dampened by Natsu's scorching- velvet tongue coming out to play by slipping past her parted lips to massage hers , drowning out the eratic beat of her heart hammering away in her ears like an eightway over the music.

He then seized the opportunity to drag his tongue along the roof of her mouth with a heady suck for good measure firing wave after rapturous wave of ecstasy through her nerves. One of Natsu's roving hands moved to cup Lucy's breast under her bra, only for her to brain to short-circuit when stars danced in her vision at his touch from his blazing fingertips brushing the tip of her now-pert nipple ; which was in tandem with the electric sparks from the friction of his hips rocking against the mage's still-covered core sending a delicious jolt down south now soaking through the mage's already-dampened panties along with her pleasure through the stratosphere; signalling her leg to tighten around his waist, all the while serving as just cause for her to not only crave her hotblooded-fire dragon-demon-prince's touch, but also his essence as well even more so than before.

Blazing digits were now rolling Lucy's rosy bud at the same time of Natsu's other hand kneading breasts as a double whammy stimulation for blinding white light to explode into star dust across her then followed suit with by giving her mound a rough squeeze along with the swell of her supple ass cheek igniting the blood, of said stellar the stellar mages's blood fanning the flames of her desire humming in her veins ;which emboldened her for what she would do next. She was slipping a dainty hand into waistband of his jeans without a so much as a single thought of hesitation to cup the dragonslayer's hardened arousal a moment later, a staggered groan resounding low in his throat at her touch when her fingers skimmed along the shaft. Natsu pulled away from Lucy with a hiss from her hand running along shaft to tip she tapped for good measure of only for a moment to utter a few simple words.

"Lucy... hold on just a sec..."

To Be Continued

Fic tag squad:  @writer-appreciation​  @fuck-yeah-nalu @soprana-snap  @phoenix-before-the-flame     @nunnatheinsanegerbil @mautrino @rougescribe @goddesofimortality @phoenix-before-the-flame  @nalufever  @petri808 @thecelestialchick @nalu-natic  @superdomo360 @pyroandtheprincess  @rayhneatess  @nothingbutwordsstuff  @petri808  @thecelestialchick  @chiire  @nalufever @shootingstarssel  @chamilsanya  @rougescribe  @lover-of-the-light117  @rougescribe @narutoyaoifan

A/N: Whew(fans herself ), it sure as hell got hot and heavy fast between our Favourite Fairytail couple, didn't it? Hope you enjoyed Chapter 3! Originally, I had more content planned for this chapter , but ended up deciding to break it up two chapter in lieu of my ever-expanding creative network of ideas, not to mention the time constraints from when I initially submitted this to Nalu lovefest 2017 on a previous account . Anyway, feel free to let me know what you think and don't forget to like, share or reblog and follow me! Oh and be sure to keep an eye on my profiles (on here and tumblr ) for more reuploads of fics and new content!

Don't forget connect with me (See above for links if on tumblr and my bios ) Until next time, take care- ta ta for now!

[amememightywarrior]

[fanfic] The Echo, chapter 2

In which Ameme spends a whole day in Coerthas running errands and discovering she’s crazy.

Trigger warnings: needless slaughter of wildlife, really terrible art

I awoke the next morning to the soft noises of chocobos scratching at the straw in their stalls. I rolled over and grimaced as the sharp ends of the straw pile serving as my bed poked me in the cheek. The thick fur blanket I had found among my supplies covered my body completely, and once I poked my fingers out of its safety, I was inclined to keep it that way. It was absolutely freezing outside.

“Kweh! Kweh!” cried one of the chocobos.

A soft male voice addressed it with amusement. “You're awake, I take it? Shh, there are people sleeping in the barn still...”

I scootched the blanket's edge around until I could see. Adventurer lodging was the best in Camp Dragonhead: the loft area in the stables. We got the softest straw—there was only one softness—and it was surprisingly warm, but I could still see my breath as I peered into the early morning gloom. I was at the edge of the loft, so I could see a silver-haired Elezen man stroking the head of the only black chocobo there. If I had to guess, the man must have been the lord in charge of the camp, Haurchefant. His voice seemed much lower, though. Soothing, really. I watched sleepily as he fed the chocobo a treat, saddled it, and walked it out of the barn. Morning ride, I thought.

Goobbue rolled over with a sigh. “Wish he'd talk like that all the time,” she said. “Can you imagine that voice in your ear—”

“Thal's balls, Goobbue, shut up,” Essenta groused. “Soluvrain not paying you enough attention or something?”

There was a grunt at the other end of the loft. Soluvrain evidently did not think much of that comment. Goobbue said, “A girl can appreciate a nice voice, that's all I'm saying!”

“Sounds more like you're about to start trying to climb the wrong tree, if you know what I mean.”

“Essenta...”

Essenta threw her thin pillow at Goobbue. “Don't Essenta me! Oi, Ameme. Word to the wise: Don't even try to touch any of the Ishgardians round here. If they don't think you're some exotic animal, then they've got enough baggage to sink a barge. Lord Haurchefant's no exception. He might act like yer the most delightful thing he's ever seen, but that's as far as you'll want to get. Trust me, it ain't worth it.”

The floorboards creaked as Moonlight River sat up. “All right, that's enough listening to girl talk,” he said. “Breakfast and morning exercises, anyone? That'll be the warmest we'll be 'til lunch time.”

I couldn't have agreed more, since I had next to no interest in anyone that way even if that was allegedly the entire reason I had traveled back in time. With much yawning, I got dressed under my blanket. One of my sleeves was home to a guest. Midgardsormr nearly gave me a heart attack when he chomped on my fingers as I stuck my arm through. I shoved him out the other end and judged him silently with my eyes. He huffed and faded from view. My fingers throbbed. He'd left a neat arc of red indentations, the little bastard, but at least he hadn't broken skin. The thick hem of my sleeves hid my fingers easily enough. I left the warm refuge of my blanket and packed all my things neatly to stow in the corner. The others were gone by the time I finished getting dressed.

The chocobos warked at me in a friendly fashion as I slid down the ladder. They were a well-trained bunch, these birds, but they were slightly intimidating as a group just because most were meant for Elezen riders. They towered over me. The two at the end of the row were the absolute sweetest birds, though. They put their heads over the stall doors for beak rubs and I obliged.

I wandered around Camp Dragonhead in confusion after breakfast until I spotted several late knights running into what I had dubbed the strategy room, where the lord's desk sat. I followed them and found the room filled with shirtless men and women wearing thin cotton tabards to preserve modesty. My adventuring compatriots were similarly clad and shivering. It looked like every single knight on day shift was in here.

“Ameme!” Goobbue called, waving at me. “C'mere! We're about to get started. You might want to ditch the fur.”

As I shed my warmest layers, Haurchefant bounded into the room. I could almost feel the enthusiasm radiating off him as he pulled off his haubergeon. “Attention!” he shouted. The knights snapped upright and saluted him in unison. The adventurers were rather more lackadaisical about it. I stood there like a dope. Goobbue nudged me until I clumsily copied everyone else. Haurchefant took no notice. “Good morn to all of you!” he said. “I've the most delightful tidings! The latest shipment of coffee beans has arrived and a fresh batch of coffee is brewing as we speak.” He beamed as the knights made pleased noises. “Of course, nothing wakes the body up more than exercise,” he added. “Squats, three sets!”

I didn't know what a set was, so I decided to just copy Goobbue until she stopped. Haurchefant joined the ranks of the knights with great excitement. Since I was just behind the end of the knights, he ended up in front of me. I found myself staring at his back muscles as he swung his arms back and forth. It was a good thing he had a thick skirt on, otherwise I would've also been staring at his ass, too. That would've been inappropriate and not a little weird.

Goobbue completed her squats and shook her arms out. I stretched my legs. Haurchefant called out, “Sit-ups, three sets!” And once those were done: “Push-ups, three sets!” I was starting to feel a bit toasty. That was when Haurchefant threw a surprise my way. “Dragoon squats, ten of them!” he called cheerily.

“Ten!” groaned Essenta. “You tyrant! I thought these were warm-ups, not kill-me-before-dawn-ups!”

“Essenta, my friend, 'tis after dawn,” Haurchefant said, turning to face us. “Ameme, have you ever done dragoon squats? They are as follows.” He dropped to the floor for a push-up, jumped to his feet, and did a leap combined with a phantom spear throw. “That's one.”

I had figured they would be more difficult. I did the ten, with Haurchefant happily following along and saying things like 'Splendid jump!' and 'If I didn't know better, I would think you were a master of the lance!' He was the only one other than me who was not too out of breath to speak after ten dragoon squats. It was hard for me to tell if his praise was genuine or just shameless flattery. He was just so over the top about everything, you know?

“Take a break,” he said when everyone was done. “Is it not invigorating to start off the morning sweating?!”

Essenta muttered something uncomplimentary under her breath.

“Rather than our usual ending routine, I thought I'd try something different,” Haurchefant said. “Ser Moiroix! Have you not learnt a new dance during your last leave? Come teach us!”

The singled-out knight groaned. “My lord, did I not also mention I was terrible at it?”

“Then you must needs practice,” said Haurchefant. “After all, dexterity of the feet is as necessary to battle as a good, strong core! One cannot fight dragons if one constantly trips!”

Moiroix, red in the face, came to the front of the pack and clumsily tried to teach everyone some sort of stately ballroom dance. Haurchefant got on her case about incorrect footwork. I got a bad case of second-hand embarrassment. On the upside, I learned a new dance.

“You're from up north somewhere, aren't you?” Goobbue asked me, a bit too loudly. “Know any exotic dances?”

I cringed mentally as Haurchefant's head turned in my direction. “I don't know about exotic,” I said. “They're definitely not ballroom dances.”

“Let's see them!” she said.

“I don't remember them very well,” I said. Or at all, actually. I just remembered that I knew some dances. I didn't remember the dances themselves.

Haurchefant rescued me when he announced, “Warm-ups are over! Coffee is available in the mess hall.” He bounded over to me, looking like he'd already had at least three cups of coffee. “Ameme! 'Tis your first full day with us. I pray you slept well! Adventurers report to Ser Hourlinet, in case you were unaware, but should you ever run into any urgent issues, pray come to me directly.” He paused, looking me up and down. “Your armor is highly unusual,” he said.

I looked down at myself. I had chain leggings and plated boots of an intricate design. My gloves were colorful and feathered. Hell if I knew where they came from. “I pick up pieces here and there,” I said. “From the fallen bodies of my enemies, usually.” I held my arms up to show the feathered gloves. “This...was a gift from some crafters.” Maybe. I couldn't recall much.

“Fascinating!” he said. “Well, I know the top to be in the style of the skyraiders. The boots are most unusual and I cannot place them.” He pointed at my legs. “These, though, appear to be Ishgardian knight's trousers.”

This was a pop quiz I did not like. I touched the chain part of the leggings and tried to remember.

—The keep was frozen over, its halls patrolled by ice sprites and the living dead. I stood in the corner with a torn journal page in hand, reading the sorrow of a man who no longer wanted to see his children for shame of what he had become. In the corner, I found a chest full of spare equipment. My own had been shredded in my fights with the keep's undead residents—

“Found these at an abandoned outpost in a chest,” I said. “It was...haunted. By zombies.” I shuddered.

“Forgive me, it seems I have dredged up a bad memory,” said Haurchefant. “I pray the boots are less horrific in origin!”

I raised an eyebrow at him. He was grilling me in the most friendly fashion, and no wonder. My outfit must have made him highly suspicious. I angled one foot so he could look at the intricate design. Where were these from...? Hmm...ahh. “I snuck into a Garlean outpost for food and stole someone's boots,” I said. “I used the rest of her outfit, too, but returned everything else.”

Haurchefant stooped to study them. “These are Garlean?” he asked with some surprise. “They're most unusual, then. Quite beautiful, really.”

“I think the Empire's armor designers were inspired by the things they found in the Far East,” I said. “That was where I was when I got these.”

“The Far East!! My friend, you are truly well-traveled! I should like to hear of your adventures one day!” He straightened and regarded me with a warm smile. “In fact, why don't you—”

“Seigneur Haurchefant!” called someone from the other side of the room.

Haurchefant, still talking, turned to see who wanted his attention. “—join me some time for lunch—Oui, Inquisiteur?”

A woman in long white and blue robes waved at him. “Avec moi, s'il vous-plait!”

“Un moment, madame! Pardon me, ladies, but it seems duty calls. I pray your day goes well!” He gave us a courtly bow and strode away to the inquisitor to see what she wanted.

Goobbue, Essenta, and I exchanged glances. Essenta said, “You are now the prime exotic animal, shipped in from the Far East.”

“Essenta!” Goobbue scolded. “Really! Just because Lord Haurchefant likes hearing stories...” She turned to me. “Did you really steal your boots from an Imperial soldier?”

“Thought it was a good idea at the time, but then again I was starving,” I said with a shrug. “They don't feed their soldiers very well, either.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Ew. Not a surprise. They're all savages over there. All right, let's report to Ser Hourlinet.”

She and Essenta headed for a man in a yellow overcoat surrounded by adventurers. Hourlinet was the efficient sort, I could see. He had everyone's tasks scheduled in a neat little grid, including mine. Goobbue was runner for the day – she grimaced at this, since it meant a lot of travel – while Essenta got assigned to guard some porters. Soluvrain and Moonlight River got firewood duty. As for me, someone had creatively tasked me with 'ridding the immediate area of nuisance creatures', which meant feral crocs. That was my only task all day.

“Are you sure she should do that alone?” Moonlight River asked. “Mayhap Soluvrain could—”

“Given what I have seen her do, she is likely more than equal to this task,” Hourlinet said. “Now, with the storm strengthening, I would suggest we all set about our respective tasks with alacrity.” He turned to the rest of the adventurers.

“I don't think the pay's worth your life,” Moonlight River said to me. “Say the word and I'll come help.”

“It's fine,” I said. “I'll see you later.” I headed out. Time to get a real warm-up.

~*~

I stood over the latest carcass, panting hard. Blood dripped off the blade of my axe slowly, already beginning to freeze mere seconds after its forcible extraction from the vessel. Feeling oddly out of sorts, I scooped up handfuls of snow and began cleaning everything. The space around me turned pink. Only when I glanced idly at the dead wolf did I notice the sunset had turned the snow orange.

Have I been out here all day? I wondered. Best head back. I'm hungry...I think.

My killing spree had ended at the top of a hill. I gazed down at the trail of death and destruction I had left with a bit of a sick feeling in my stomach. “Midgardsormr,” I said, “how long have I been out here?”

The tip of one wing brushed my cheek as my dragonet companion dropped onto my shoulder. «Sunrise to sunset,» he said. «Oft didst thou lose thyself to excess bloodshed in the end. That thou hast returned to thyself in the span of a single sun is a great improvement. Come, let us return to the sons of Ishgard. The native fauna has been terrorized enough for one day.»

“I...yes, that's a good idea,” I said, struck by both my apparent ability to kill mindlessly for hours and Midgardsormr thinking this was better than before. “I'm really broken, aren't I? I thought coming back fixed me. This is not normal!”

«To heal will take time,» he replied. «To rewind time for a single mortal is miracle enough without asking for that which broke the world to be fixed without recompense. Go, champion. They will not mind a little blood.»

I spent a few more minutes cleaning my boots and furs before heeding his command. The knights I passed greeted me with raised hands and bobbing heads. The sun was long gone when I reached the gates of Camp Dragonhead.

“There you are!” said the guard. “We wondered if you had met an untimely demise in the jaws of a croc. Report to Ser Hourlinet, if you will. You might find some leftover food if you're nice to Medguistl.”

I thanked him and trudged through the courtyard. The knights regularly shoveled inside the outpost, which was a blessing because it meant I wasn't tracking pink snow for all to see. Of course, the number of people outside now that the temperature was now well below zero was close to zilch anyway. Lighted windows and torches showed me the way through the central arch.

The sound of someone beating the stuffing out of a training dummy distracted me from my pensive march. I veered off course to investigate. The training area held only a single torch, leaving half the area in shadow. I saw long silver hair gleaming in the firelight, bouncing to and fro. As I drew close, I could make out the body attached to the hair. It was an Elezen man, and one who could jump absurdly high at that. I watched as he vaulted into the air, stretched to his full length, and hurled a black spear at the training dummy. The thin blade pierced the heart of the dummy with ease. The man landed practically on top of it, ripped his spear out, and did a few graceful spins. Then, with a full grasp on the mechanics of coolness, he twirled the spear to rest the butt on the ground in an at-ease position.

“Eavesdroppers and spies shall be taken as new training dummies,” he said, not turning around.

I blinked and looked from side to side. Who...? Oh, he was talking to me. Well, that was rude! I frowned at his back.

He turned to glare at me. His eyes were surprisingly dark for an Elezen of Ishgardian birth. His hair could have used a trim. What might have once been bangs now brushed his nose and even in the dark of night I could see his split ends were out of control. He hmphed at me, his glare acquiring a contemptuous air. “A coin-starved adventurer, back from her errand,” he said. “Hardly worth the trouble. Run along, girl, unless you want to take on my lance.”

That was even ruder! I wasn't a girl, I was a woman! And his lance wasn't even that impressive! More importantly, something about him was very, very familiar.

He wasn't in the mood to deal with me. Rather than keep talking, he spun his lance and leapt high into the air. Like a diving falcon, he aimed for my heart.

Oh, so he's serious about using me as a dummy, I thought.

Curious, I chose to block his attack rather than dodge. His lance was sturdier than it looked and his reaction time was excellent. The blade did not break when it glanced off my axe. The man landed with one foot on the flat of my blade and used it to propel himself out of reach. Unsurprisingly, his landing was as light as a butterfly despite the ice and snow covering the ground.

He hummed thoughtfully, swinging his weapon out to the side to prepare his next move. “Interesting,” he said. “I take it you've volunteered to be my training dummy.” He darted forward. I dodged in the nick of time. Damn, he was fast when he decided to use those legs of his to cover distance rather than altitude. I blocked several of his graceful sweeping blows easily and tried to figure out his fighting style. He wore light chainmail and no head cover, but as I studied him, I discovered he had absolutely no openings. The only time he opened himself up even a sliver was at the very top of his massive jumps, and there was no way I would be able to reach him up there.

He found me to be a tough opponent, too. All of his strikes had become cautious after that first attack, mostly aimed testing my defenses. The main issue for him was that his style had massive telegraphs due to the length of his weapon and the constant grip adjustments he had to do. Yes, it would hurt if he made contact...but he would have to get through my axe first.

I redirected my attention to his feet. Maybe if I...ohhh, yes, that was a good plan...although I was banking on him not knowing any hand-to-hand techniques and that he wasn't seriously planning on killing me...

He tried to skewer me again, this time with more intent than before. I twisted my hips to the side, just barely avoiding both the lance blade and the secondary winglike blade on one side. He was just within arms' length now. Maybe he thought he had me, because I could see him smirking and the muscles of his body bracing to pull the lance backwards. I slammed my axe vertically into the dirt. The handle locked the lance up by way of the winglike blade.

Ah. So he was actually trying to kill me. Good to know. I released my axe and put one hand on his wrist. His smirk turned to surprise as I ducked under his arms and slammed my fist into his gut. Not exactly the brightest move—the guy had abs of steel under the chainmail—but it took him surprise. He sort of bent over, either in reaction or just to keep track of me, and transferred to a one-handed grip on his lance. I cheerfully dragoon-jumped my head right into his chin. He made a bitten-off noise of surprise and reared back. Then, because he was a seasoned fighter, he adapted to the sudden close quarters by trying to punch me in the head. I ducked. The sound of metal scraping metal alerted me to the fact that he had slid his lance up to get it off my axe handle. I darted away and retrieved my weapon once he had backed up. We watched each other guardedly.

“You don't fight on the ground much, do you?” I asked when he made no move to attack again.

He snorted. “No. Mayhap I will after this, if only to spar with you again.”

I growled at him. “Is it sparring when you're actively trying to skewer me?”

The man found this hilarious. He let the tip of his lance drop as he laughed heartily. “That last move was a bit much considering your armor,” he said. “I would apologize, but as the bruise on my jaw will attest, you can more than hold your own in such situations.”

“Luckily for you.”

“Indeed, though given our earlier dancing, I suspected your level of skill was far higher than I previously assumed.” He waved a finger at the sky as Elezen were wont to do when they wanted to emphasize something. “I would end our sparring match here, my lady, as there are places I must be ere the morrow. First, though, I would have your name. 'Tisn't often I come across an opponent such as yourself.”

I decided he was a little on the weird side, as far as Ishgardians went. “Ameme,” I said. “Who are you?”

“Estinien,” he replied. “I shall remember your name, Ameme.” He gave me a curt nod, strapped his lance to his back, and jumped his crazy ass over the wall of the outpost without another word.

What the hell was that? I asked myself. If that was the guy I'd come back to save...I would have to tell myself I had terrible taste in men.

“Ameme!”

I jumped at the fluting male voice behind me. Haurchefant came striding across the courtyard. Some part of me relaxed when I saw him. “Hello, I'm back,” I said when he arrived in front of me.

“Yes, so I see,” he said. “When you did not report back by lunch, I confess Ser Hourlinet grew rather worried. Where have you been?”

I pointed vaguely in the direction of my activities. “I was killing feral crocs as assigned,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow. “All day?”

“Oh, no,” I said. “I ran out of crocs, you see...so I started on the wolves...I think there may have been some ice sprites, too.” I noticed my fingers getting fidgety with my axe handle and stilled them.

“Ah,” said Haurchefant. “And upon your return, you chose to get into a fight with the Azure Dragoon?”

I stared at him, wondering if I was about to get in trouble.

He sucked in a breath. “Ameme...”

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I was just watching him beat up the training dummy and he decided that meant I wanted to fight.”

Haurchefant laughed. “Oh, that is no surprise,” he said. “The Azure Dragoon is, shall we say...not a sociable sort of man.” He shook his head. “No, that is not what I wanted to say. Ameme! You are magnificent!”

I stared some more. Was that code for me being in trouble?

“To think, you were hard at work all day ridding the land of dangerous beasts, only to return and go axe-to-lance with the Azure Dragoon! And with such grace! I've never seen aught like it! You are truly, exceptionally strong, with unbelievable stamina!” He gestured excitedly as he spoke.

“Ah,” I said, blinking.

He picked up on my confusion and abruptly calmed himself. “After all that work, you must certainly be hungry,” he said. “I have taken the liberty of asking Medguistl to prepare a late dinner for you. Pray partake of it and take tomorrow off to rest. Come!” He led me to the kitchens and spent the entire time I waited for food recounting what he had seen and asking questions about this or that technique.

“What's an Azure Dragoon?” I asked when he managed to stop long enough to drink the orange juice Medguistl the chef gave him.

“Ah, I had forgotten you are new to the region,” Haurchefant said. “Pray forgive me. The Azure Dragoon is a title given to the strongest and wisest member of the order of dragoons. Among all Azure Dragoons past and present, Estinien Wyrmblood is considered exceptional.”

“He does jump pretty high,” I allowed. “So he just shows up to beat on training dummies?”

Haurchefant had a little laughing fit at the 'jumps pretty high' line. “I know not why he was here,” he said after recovering. “From what I have heard, the man comes and goes as he pleases. He has also thoroughly rejected Ishgardian high society, despite his status. I find him quite an interesting character, truth be told. I daresay you'll find him a far more difficult opponent should you fight him again. He is known for his ability to adapt to other fighting styles.”

Well, that was great. What if I didn't want to fight him again? But figuring out how to get the better of him had been pretty exciting, not to mention a far sight better than mindlessly killing animals.

“Is aught amiss?” Haurchefant asked, frowning. I shook my head. “Hmm. Yet you look as though something weighs heavily on your mind. Pray tell me. Did you not wish to fight the Azure Dragoon?”

“It's not that,” I said. To tell him, or...? I remembered Midgardsormr saying that healing took time. How did one heal unrelenting blood lust? “I just...lost time today.”

“How so?”

I looked away. “I remember what I was doing,” I said. “It's just that I...I lost track of myself all day...and all I did was kill...”

Haurchefant studied me silently. “I see,” he said. “Would you say this was a state of mind?”

I shrugged. “I stopped thinking, that was the problem. I don't want to do that kind of thing, but...” I waved a hand aimlessly. “I shouldn't be doing that. It's not normal. I'm not just a killing machine or a weapon. I'm a person. I...” Who was I talking to? It wasn't Haurchefant. “I'm a person,” I finished, feeling stupid.

Haurchefant reached across the table to grip my hand. “Forgive me for being too forward, but I must speak my thoughts,” he said. “Ameme. You are neither killing machine nor weapon. Though slaying those beasts has helped us, I would rather you put your considerable skills to use in ways that do not make you think you are nothing more than a tool. To that end, I shall ensure Ser Hourlinet assigns you more peaceful tasks.”

“I'll do them,” I said. “Someone has to go around killing things. It may as well be me since I'm so good at it.”

“I will not hear of it,” Haurchefant said. “Ameme, you are not a tool! You are a person, splendid fighter though you are. Now, finish this excellent meal and go to bed. Tomorrow you will have no assignments. Pray use that time to gather your thoughts and realize you are more than the sum of what you kill.” He patted my knuckles and released my hand.

Haurchefant is a nice guy, but he definitely doesn't know me, I thought. Fighting was all I did. Nothing he said would change that.

...but...

Maybe he was right, in a way. Maybe I could do more than just fight. No, I would do more than just fight. I had to if I wanted to stay sane. I would become the person he imagined I was.

“Let us speak of less serious things,” Haurchefant said. “Tell me more of your adventures in the Far East! I would not dare to imagine I know much of the world past Eorzea.”

“I didn't spend much time there,” I said a bit nervously. What was I supposed to tell him? I didn't remember.

“But surely you were there long enough to know something of the food!” he said.

Oh gods...what did I eat over there? Sushi? “Raw fish on rice,” I said.

“What?!”

“There was a lot of sea food...”

He leaned forward, fascinated. The more I talked, the more I remembered the little details. I even recalled climbing onto curved roofs and running around a port town, as well as being yelled at by men in yukata for doing so. It was a struggle to describe yukata to someone who had never seen them, but Haurchefant was somehow enthusiastic about the idea anyway.

Anyway, it was very nice chatting with someone who just wanted to hear stories. He was a busy man, so I also appreciated the amount of time he took just to talk to me. When I was finished eating, he thanked me for sharing my experiences and bade me good night before rushing off to do something or other—he mentioned reports—and leaving me all by my lonesome. I made sure to thank Medguistl for the food before I dragged myself to the chocobo stables for the night.

[letterfromtrenwith]

Grand Jeté - Ch. 3 & 4

When George Warleggan quits a high powered job in the City to take care of the finances of the South West Ballet, run by his friend, Francis Poldark, it changes his life - even more so than he expected.

Elizabeth Chynoweth came to the South West to come back home, take on new challenges, and leave behind a less than perfect time in her life. She intends to focus on her art, but everyone knows what they say about best laid plans…

Ch 1 & 2 

~

Chapter 3 

“And it’s worth the investment?” Francis tasted his coffee, made a face and reached for another milk.

“Yes. It’s a decent outlay, but since you’re a registered charity they’ll give you a discount. And it’ll save a lot of time and unnecessary paperwork – the system can handle everything: general accounting, payroll, personnel, even scheduling for your studio space and performances.”

“Wow, really?”

“Yes, it’s a few different programs, but they all work together, and there’s another discount if you purchase several of them.”

“God, George, this all seems so simple and yet so complicated at the same time. I honestly had no idea about any of this.” He shook his head.

“Look, you don’t need to know all this. You’re the Artistic Director. It’s like expecting me to know about…..fouettes? Is that a thing?” George frowned and Francis laughed heartily. George had heard Francis and Verity discuss dance endlessly, but he had to admit he hadn’t taken a lot of it in.

“Yes, that’s a thing. You’ll pick up a fair bit of stuff quickly, I imagine. Rosina will help. She trained as a dancer, you know.”

“She did?” He’d talked quite a lot with Rosina in the two weeks he’d been here. He’d learned that she was born in Marazion, and had studied at the University of Falmouth, but she’d never mentioned any ballet training.

“Yes, but she couldn’t continue. Injury, I think.”

“Shame.”

“Yeah.” Francis glanced at the clock. “Oh, I’d better go. Afternoon practice. Our Rodeo debut is getting closer.”

“You’ve completely sold out, by the way.” Francis looked momentarily taken aback.

“We have? I have to admit, I’m surprised. It’s not the best known show.”

“Perhaps not, but the company has an excellent reputation. The reviews for your last season couldn’t be more glowing.”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about ballet?” Francis cocked an eyebrow at him.

“I may not have the technique down, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t do my research!” Taking the job might have been a rather impulsive decision, but he wasn’t going to join an organisation without so much as a quick Google. Every local newspaper, and even a few nationals, had been full of praise for the company’s recent productions, which had certainly given him hope that it wouldn’t be too difficult to put them on a financial even keel.

“Well, that’s a start, I suppose. But you’re going to have to properly immerse yourself. Not like when you used to hang around with me and Verity in London. Once I finally get myself in gear and get you introduced to everyone, you could come and watch some rehearsals. You never know, might even let you join in…” Francis left, cackling at what George was sure was the look of sheer terror on his face.

~

The clock in the stage manager’s office read 6:15pm. Ellen Tabb was her name, a bespectacled woman in her 40s who exuded an air of competence. Francis had told George that Ellen was invaluable to the running of the company, and it hadn’t taken much to see why. She’d been highly amenable to all of the suggestions George had had so far about more efficient management and already come up with plenty of ideas about how to implement them. She’d made a point of introducing herself to George on his second day and said he could come to her with any questions he had about the running of the place if Francis wasn’t available, or it was to do with her responsibilities, for which George had felt pathetically grateful.

Since the company was deep in rehearsals for the new season, Ellen had a lot on her hands, and her work-room was almost as chaotic as the finance office had been when George arrived. That seemed to work for her, however. He didn’t like to pry, but he’d seen the walls covered in what looked like plans of the Hall’s performance spaces and sketches of set designs, along with typed notes on half a dozen things. Her desk was piled with copies of programmes, photographs of dancers in costume, and even sheet music. Somehow she had to cohere all of this into a final production, overseeing the co-ordination of every department, from dancers to costumers, stage hands to musicians. George had considered his own task something of a challenge, but it was nothing compared to this.

She seemed to have taken a well-earned finish at a reasonable hour today which, considering it was Friday, was fair enough. So George left the paperwork on her desk, hoping the fluorescent orange Post-It note Rosina had stuck to it would make it noticeable enough amongst everything else.

The Hall was quite an extensive complex, and he still hadn’t fully got his head around the layout. He realised he’d taken a wrong turn and was about to double back when he heard an unexpected snatch of music floating down the corridor towards him. Music in general wasn’t unexpected here, of course, since he’d inadvertently ended up in the direction of the rehearsal spaces; it was just that what seemed to be playing was rock music. Muse, if George wasn’t mistaken. Intrigued, he couldn’t help but follow the sound, finding it emanating from the closed door of one of the studios. Without thinking, he looked in through the window.

A dozen or so dancers, still dressed for practice by the look of them, were in the room, dotted around the sides, leaning on the barre – he knew what that was – nodding their heads to the music. He hadn’t been properly introduced to the full company, but he’d read all of their personnel files, feeling like he was prying the entire time, despite the fact that save a few payroll details, most of the information was in their profiles on the South West’s website. As he watched, a young dancer with a short, dark bob who he recognised as Morwenna Chynoweth stepped into the middle of the floor and, in time with the entirely incongruous beat, executed a series of perfect – to George’s completely untechnical eye – turns across the room before effortlessly leaping into the arms of a slim young man who lifted her into the air as if she weighed almost nothing. George had met this dancer by chance when he’d previously dropped by Ellen’s office. Hugh Armitage was his name, and he’d shaken George’s hand with a strength he seemed unaware of, welcoming him sincerely to the company.

A few others cheered and clapped as Morwenna delicately came down from her lift, and then two male dancers – Paul Daniel and Ed…something– performed a sort of Cossack-style dance to much laughter. George smiled to himself and was about to turn away when two ballerinas came forward on the other side of the room. Both tall and dark-haired, they were a striking pair. The one closest to the door was Margaret Vosper, who had frightened the life out of him by loudly greeting him in the car park as he was about to go home a few nights previously. Like everyone else so far, she had been extraordinarily friendly, insisting he come for coffee with the dancers the next time they went.

But it was the other who really captured George’s attention. The other Miss Chynoweth. Elizabeth. He’d found his mind drifting back to his first day quite a few times since, remembering the faint blush that had come into her cheeks when Francis had called her their ‘prima ballerina’, not to mention her wide smile and soft eyes. She’d seemed keen to get away, however, although he’d hoped it was nothing personal. Rather guiltily, he’d researched her a bit more thoroughly than he had the other dancers, even finding a video online of her performing a solo in the title role of Madame Bovary the previous season. On stage, she was just as stunning as off, her movements elegant and lyrical, the emotion of the dance written in every gesture.

Even here, dressed in her simple practice wear, accompanied by pop music, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. In perfect synchronicity with Margaret, she took several flowing steps forward, picking up speed to leap into the air, hitting flawless splits and landing effortlessly, the women finishing en pointe at the exact same second, to whoops of approval from the others. George barely noticed Margaret, however. As Elizabeth spun out of her finishing position, she paused for a moment facing away from him, exposing the low back of her top and the nape of her neck bared by her hair piled up in a bun.

She glanced in the direction of the door and, although he couldn’t be sure, George thought their eyes met. With a gasp he pulled back, striding quickly away down the corridor, feeling horribly embarrassed and trying desperately to put the image of her sailing through the air, face alight with joy, out of his mind.

Chapter 4

“All right, Folies-Bergeres from the top. We won’t need most of you until after lunch now, so you’re free until then. Back here by 2:15 at the latest for Dracula in full.” At the balletmistress’ words, a few dancers gathered up their things and headed for the door, either to another practice room, or for a long lunch. After an hour’s general class first thing, they’d run through Checkmate and now it was time for its companion piece. Both had been devised by the legendary Ninette de Valois, but were very different in style. Bar aux Folies-Bergeres, to give it the full title, was a much more romantic counterpart to the avant-garde Checkmate. Inspired by the Manet painting, it was a one-act piece with an even smaller cast than its partner. It was Margaret’s proper come-back in a way, as she was playing the role of the seductive can-can dancer La Goulue. Considering she had to dance the famous high-kicking steps, it was a challenge with her injury, but if she said she could do it then Elizabeth believed her.

Her co-stars were primarily soloists – Emma Tregirls had been cast as the barmaid, a role for which she had both the perfect look and more than the requisite ability. Paul Daniel was to play the waiter she loved, with Ruth Teague, Keren Smith and two girls from the corps as La Goulue’s fellow dancers. As she made her way to the centre of the room, Elizabeth caught Ruth sending a nasty look at Demelza’s back and rolled her eyes. Ruth was not a bad dancer, but it was generally accepted that she had her place in the company primarily due to the fact that her mother was the head of the St Ives School, which supplied the company both with potential candidates and youth cast members.

Ruth had coveted Verity’s principal slot and been the most vocal in her sneering at Demelza’s appointment. Demelza, to her infinite credit, had been nothing but unfailingly polite to Ruth in return and if she saw the look, she pretended she hadn’t. Like Elizabeth, she’d obviously decided to stay and watch, as had Caroline, and the three women settled down in an unobtrusive corner. Morwenna came over to join them, but Hugh pulled on his hoodie.

“I’m going to nip in to see Donna, my shoulder’s aching a bit.” Donna was the company physiotherapist.

“That’s chucking Elizabeth about – ow!” Caroline made an exaggerated hurt expression as Elizabeth whacked her on the arm. “Seriously though, are you okay?”

“Oh, fine, just stiff I think. Catch you this afternoon.” With a quick wave he disappeared out the door, the last to leave. Anne closed it firmly and then clapped, signalling it was time to begin.

The practice went off without a hitch. Paul and Emma’s pas de deux was sweet and beautiful, and Margaret’s high kicks were flawless, as were the rest of the women’s, even Ruth’s. Elizabeth considered herself an experienced and skilled dancer, but she didn’t envy them the task of perfecting the can-can en pointe.

At the final note, as Emma returned to that iconic pose, the observers burst into applause, cheering and whooping. With a laugh, Emma took a bow, blowing her ‘audience’ exaggerated kisses. After Anne had given the cast what few notes she had, she announced it was time for lunch and reminded them when they needed to return. She gathered up her own things and departed while others changed their shoes and slipped on sweaters. Margaret sat down next to them and pulled at the ribbons around her ankles.

“That’s was amazing, Margaret.” Demelza smiled. “How’s the knee?”

“Okay, actually. That’s the first time I’ve really gone for it and I was expecting it to lock any second, if I’m honest. I’m really pleased with that.” She’d danced with her knee strapped, and she adjusted the tape, flexing the joint gently. “I’ve got plenty of time, so it’s looking good, all in all.”

Margaret wasn’t in Rodeo and had only a small role in Dracula, as one of the Weird Sisters. For most dancers, such a long period of inactivity would be highly frustrating, but when recovering from an injury it was a blessing. Elizabeth herself had sadly been forced to miss their last Christmas production – The Christmas Carol – due to bruised ribs. As disappointed as she’d been, it had allowed her to be fighting fit in time for their spring-summer season.

“Lunch, girls?” Caroline asked as they headed out. “We’ve got a couple of hours so how about we treat ourselves to trip to Craftworks? Build up our energy for the Count!”

Everyone was prompt back for the afternoon session and there was palpable excitement in the room. Ever since the earliest of prep, it had been clear that Dracula was going to be a great production, and this was their first full run-through. Elizabeth loved her role of Mina, and was dancing with Hugh again, as well as a beautiful and unusual pas de deux with Caroline’s Lucy.

While the dancers were finishing off their warm ups, Francis – the Count himself – entered, accompanied by another man, a tall blonde with a handsome face. He was lithe enough to be a dancer, but didn’t quite have the right posture.

“Hello, everyone! Before we start, I’ve got some introductions to make. This is Dr Dwight Enys – he’s going to be our Medical Director, so Donna and Leila will be working under him.”

“Lucky them,” Emma whispered from somewhere further down the room before hissing as Morwenna elbowed her in the ribs.

“And – ah! There you are! – this is – “

“George!” Caroline cried when George Warleggan slipped in behind the other two men. Elizabeth frowned as her friend skipped across the room and embraced him fondly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Demelza and Margaret raise their eyebrows at each other and felt an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach.

“Oh, I didn’t know you two knew each other?” Francis glanced between them.

“Oh –er – “ George glanced around, obviously a bit embarrassed by having the attention of the company on him. “I didn’t actually know Caroline was with you.”

“It’s been ages!” Caroline exclaimed, still holding onto him.

“Yes, well you can catch up later!” Francis said. “Since we’ve got some rehearsing to do. Everyone, this is our new Financial Director, George Warleggan. Now, let’s get on. Would you both like to stay for the rehearsal?”

“Oh, yes, please.” Dwight smiled and George nodded in agreement. Francis chivvied the dancers into place, and they finally organised themselves, starters moving into position, the two newcomers sitting down by the piano. As she took her place, Elizabeth felt hyper-aware of eyes on her, but it wasn’t the doctor she was concerned with. 

~

With a sigh, Elizabeth tilted her face into the spray, letting the warm water of the shower relax her whole body. She’d slept late, and was feeling refreshed. Tonight was the opening night of Rodeo, so they’d been given the day free. Although they rehearsed productions while others were in performance, it was tradition that they rested before the first night. Even the most experienced dancers had first night nerves, and a quiet day often helped. Her role was a small one, so she was mainly just enjoying the free time. Or trying to enjoy it, at least.

Ever since that first Dracula run through she’d been feeling a bit odd, and she knew it was to do with George Warleggan. She’d been dancing in front of people for over 20 years, but she couldn’t remember ever being so conscious of being watched. It hadn’t affected her performance if Anne’s notes were anything to go by, but the sensation of his gaze on her had been almost physical. She couldn’t explain it. Or understand it.

Nor could she understand the feeling she’d had when Caroline had greeted him so warmly, or when she’d seen them chatting animatedly at the company dinner the new staff had been invited to. She’d still never got to the bottom of how they knew each other, but Caroline was a beautiful, sophisticated young woman and George was a handsome, intelligent man. One possibility certainly sprung to mind.

She’d run into him outside of the restaurant as she waited for a taxi home. He’d asked if she’d like a lift, but it turned out they lived in opposite directions; kindly, he’d offered to take her anyway, but she’d demurred, not wanting to put him out, and disconcerted by how much she wanted to go with him. She barely knew him. When a cab pulled up, he stepped forward to open the door for her, and when she turned to thank him as she stepped in, he’d said:

“You danced beautifully today. I just wanted to say.” It had been a simple, sincere statement and had completely thrown her for a loop. She shivered slightly now as she remembered the look in those fascinating, icy eyes as he’d spoken.

With a sigh she sat down on her sofa, wrapped in a soft dressing gown, and rubbed her hair with a towel. With hairspray, temporary colour and everything else required for performances, it went through a lot, so when she could she let it dry naturally instead of blow-drying. She tossed the towel to one side and leant back, putting her slippered feet up on the coffee table.

Absently, she gazed ahead of her. On the wall above her television she had a large picture frame filled with a collage of special photos. She would need a bigger frame soon. Her eyes wandered over the images – baby Elizabeth in the arms of her late father; a tiny Morwnna in a too-big tutu; Elizabeth, Francis and Verity in their RBS uniforms; Caroline, Margaret and Demelza blowing kisses to the camera in full stage make-up; and a recent addition, Verity in full Highland dress for the Scottish Ballet’s Ivanhoe. She missed her friend badly, although they talked as often as possible. Elizabeth wished she could call Verity now, but she was in rehearsals this week, for the title role in Jane Eyre. Verity knew her better than almost anyone, and most importantly, would understand exactly why Elizabeth was finding being attracted to someone – because that’s what she was, there was no doubt about it – very worrying indeed.

[chooseywoozy]

Perfect Match, Book One: Chapter 1 - True Love, Guaranteed

(NOW PLAYING AS KARMA)

You walk down a bustling Brooklyn street, the sounds of the city humming all around you.

Karma: (Hope I’m not late!)

Soft music plays as you step into the hip venue of an upscale art show.

Karma: Nadia! Hey!

You spot your cousin, Nadia, among the crowd. Her face lights up as she approaches with arms outstretched and wraps you in a tight hug!

Nadia: Karma! I’m so happy you made it!

Karma: Are you kidding? The opening of your new art collection? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Nadia: Honestly, I have no idea how it blew up. But who am I to argue with the review of an art critic?

Karma: You mean glowing reviews from dozens of art critics?

Nadia: Oh, shush! Anyway, that’s not what I was excited about.

Karma: Then what is it?

Nadia: I want you to meet my boyfriend!

Nadia waves over a handsome man from across the room…

Nadia: Steve! Come say hi to my cousin!

Steve: Hey! You must be Karma! I’ve heard so much about you. I’ve been dying to meet you for weeks, but I’ve been busy at the animal shelter.

Karma: Oh! Do you work there?

Nadia: Steve’s an investment banker. But he volunteers at an animal shelter. Amazing, right?

Steve: Ah, it’s nothing. I’m just a guy who likes to do some good in his free time. Nadia here is the amazing one. The way her art makes me feel… It’s indescribable.

Nadia: Aww, sweetie!

Steve: Now, if you’ll excuse me, Karma, I’ve got to replenish the hors d’oeuvres. We’ll talk later! My mini-quiches are going fast!

Steve gives Nadia a kiss on the cheek and hustles off. Nadia sighs, beaming.

Nadia: Did I mention he bakes? He bakes. So… what do you think?

Karma: He’s too good to be true… what’s the catch? Comeon. Be honest. There’s gotta be something wrong with him. Secret criminal past? Crippling gambling debt?

Nadia: No! Nothing like that!

Karma: Then what’s your secret?

Nadia: I met him through a matchmaking service. They asked me some questions, then found the perfect man for me! They’re very exclusive. Super selective with their clientele. But I’m sure they’d accept you in a heartbeat!

Nadia reaches into her purse and hands you a business card.

Nadia: You should try them out!

Karma: True love, guaranteed? Sounds amazing. Sign me up!

Nadia: Yes! I was hoping you’d think so!

Karma: Are you kidding? It sounds great!

Just then, a voice calls to you from the crowd.

Damien: Looking good, Karma. Next time warn me when you plan to show up dressed like a celebrity. I would’ve brought my good suit.

Karma: Not so bad yourself, Damien.

Your good friend Damien saunters over, seamlessly switching his empty champagne glass with a fresh one from a server’s tray.

Damien: And don’t tell me Nadia has got you drinking this ‘matchmaking service’ Kool-Aid too. You of all people don’t need some fancy matchmaking service.

Karma: I’ll take that as a compliment. But you can’t argue with the results. Steve seems like a catch.

Damien: Yeah, I talked to Mr. Perfect on the way in. Haven’t found any flaws or dark secrets yet. But give me time.

Nadia: Really, D? We’ve known you for like, four years. I thought you would’ve dropped the tough, cynical act by now.

Damien: I’m a private investigator. I catch liars and cheaters for a living. ‘Cynical’ is basically my job.

Nadia: Don’t listen to him, Karma. He’s like the Grinch when it comes to love. Eros is the best matchmaking service ever! I’ll schedule you an appointment for a consultation!

Damien: Yeah! A vague, secretive company providing little to no contact information… What could go wrong? Just keep your guard up, Karma… Maybe bring pepper spray, or hold your keys like a claw.

Nadia: Ignore him. It’ll be amazing! I know you’re gonna find someone perfect for you!

Karma: Can’t wait!

Later that week, you arrive outside the address Nadia gave you. A sleek, unlabeled complex towers above you…

Karma: (Okay, this is a little weird. Not so much as a logo on the door. But the address looks right…)

You push through the glass doors to enter a warm, inviting lobby. A stunning woman strides gracefully across the room, the steps of her heels echoing through the halls.

Cecile: Karma Park? My name is Cecile Contreras. I’m the Head of Matchmaking here at Eros. Welcome! You got here on the J train, didn’t you? I hope getting to the new Quincy Station wasn’t too much of a hassle.

Karma: Uh, thank you… How did you know--

Cecile: We’ve done our homework. Eros has been expecting you, after all. Your cousin Nadia gave you a glowing referral. I’m excited to begin. Please, follow me.

You follow Cecile through the pristine halls of Eros Incorporated.

Karma: I’m still a little overwhelmed by this whole thing. How can you guarantee true love?

Cecile: A good question. Love is a complex thing. But here at Eros, we’ve used the latest in behavioural science and technology to devise the most sophisticated matchmaking system in the world.

Karma: So you think you’ve got people figured out… with some algorithm?

Cecile: Your personality, your wants, your needs… All of that makes you unique, like a puzzle piece. But somewhere out there is a piece that fits flawlessly with you. An exact complement. A perfect match. Our technology helps sort through the pieces to find yours. Simply put, the human heart is precisely our expertise.

Karma: Really? Sounds like exactly what I need!

Cecile: So glad you feel that way! I can assure you, we’re just as excited as you are to help you find your match.

She leads you into a peaceful, softly lit room. A sweet, floral aroma and calming music fill the space around you.

Cecile: Welcome to our consultation room. This is where we’ll be conducting our Perfect Match questionnaire.

Karma: Is this the part where I tell you my middle name, my hobbies and where I went to high school?

Cecile: Nadia sent us the personality profile you filled out, so we already have the basic information we need. Today will be about finding out what you’re looking for in a match.

Karma: Oh… Okay… So why does this place look more like a day spa than a quiz room?

Cecile: Oh, I assure you, our questionnaire is more than just a quiz. It’s a comprehensive interview, monitoring not just your words, but your biorhythms, your excitement, your emotional engagement… As such, we want you to be perfectly at ease.

She invites you to sit on a reclining chair in the middle of the room, and instantly your mind drifts as you sink into the shockingly comfortable seat. Cecile sits on a chair beside you with a tablet in hand.

Cecile: Simply place your hand on the palm scanner, and we can begin.

You place your hand on the smooth surface of the chair’s arm. It hums and glows, and soon a soft chime sounds in sync with your own heartbeat. The lights in the room dims as your mind drifts, peacefully.

Cecile: Now, relax. Close your eyes… focus on the sound of my voice… and speak from your heart…

Cecile taps on her tablet. You hear her voice from a distance as your eyes close…

Cecile: First, some general questions. I’m going to show you six images. Tell me, which of these most closely resembles your preferred look in a match?

(Look 1)

Cecile: Wonderful. Next I have twelve brief questions. Please answer as honestly as you can…

One - When traveling abroad, your perfect match would rather take you… To a lively festival, bustling with locals.

Two - On a road trip with your partner, you’d prefer someone who… Trades anecdotes and engages in lively conversation.

Three - You’re transported into a fantasy novel. Which character is most attractive… A magnetic ruler, leading and inspiring the people.

Four - Who do you imagine your partner hung out with in high school… A close-knit group of friends.

Five - Your match appears in a dream with an animal companion. What kind is it… A fierce, wild hawk.

Six - Your partner is facing an unbeatable enemy. What strategy do they use… Fight dirty.

Seven - You have to be apart for a few months. Your perfect match… Sends you memes.

Eight - Your perfect match has just defeated a supervillain. What do they do next… Righteously condemn the villain’s action.

Nine - What would your perfect match give you for your birthday… Something they noticed you wanted but hadn’t asked for.

Ten - Your date orders cocktails for you at a bar. Which do they choose… A trendy new menu item that food critics are buzzing about.

Eleven - Your travel plans have fallen through. What does your partner do… They have you covered no matter what, backup plan and all.

Twelve - How would your partner clear out a building full of zombies… They devise a brilliant plan and execute it flawlessly.

Cecile: You’re doing wonderfully, Karma. We have enough to find you a suitable match, but first, I’d like to ask if there’s anything in particular you’re looking for… I’m going to list a few traits that your potential match may possess. Let me know if any of them resonate strongly with you. For those who prioritise physical intimacy, we have many candidates with massage skills. We can refine our search to animal lovers and pet owners, who are often compassionate and kind. If you’re drawn to creative, artistic souls, we can match you with musicians. Last but not least, many people seek the culture and intelligence of someone who speaks many languages. Which of these appeals to you?

Karma: The animal lover. My match must love animals.

Cecile: An excellent choice. Would you like to distinguish your preferences further? Remember, there’s no shame in being picky when it comes to love. You’re absolutely worth it.

Karma: I would like them to possess all of those qualities. Why settle for anything less?

The lights in the room brighten, and you are suddenly aware of your surroundings again. Cecile looks up from her note taking and smiles warmly at you.

Cecile: That concludes the questionnaire. Not so bad, was it? Based on your responses, we’ll determine which of our sixteen personality types best describes your Perfect Match. I’ll have your results in a moment…

Cecile taps on the tablet before turning it to show you the display…

Your perfect match is a… Leader - Outgoing, rebellious, sincere, loyal.

Brave, perceptive, and confident, the Leader is often turned to in times of crisis. As a romantic partner, this perfect match’s charisma can inspire in even the most challenging of times.

Karma: Wow. Just like that? This is just my type! I’d love to find someone like this.

Cecile: Glad to see that the system is working as intended!

Karma: So… What next?

Cecile: Next? Simply leave the rest to us. We’ll find the most compatible partner for you in our database and arrange your first date. You’ll be hearing from us soon!

Karma: Sounds like a plan. And what happens after that?

Cecile flashes you a wink.

Cecile: Why, true love, of course.

You step out of the Eros building into the brisk night air, the New York City skyline towering above you.

Damien: Made it out of the Mystery Company in one piece, huh?

Karma: Damien? What are you doing here?

Damien leans against his old muscle car, pulling his jacket tight against the cold.

Damien: Check your phone, lovebird. I called you a couple times. Wanted to make sure you hadn’t joined a cult, or bought a timeshare or anything… And also offer you a ride home.

Karma: Oh, really? You just wanted the dirt on this Mystery Company, huh?

Damien smiles.

Damien: Wow… You know me too well, Karma. Come on.

Soon, you’re watching the city lights streak by through the passenger window of Damien’s car as you catch him up on your day.

Damien: So, really… this Eros thing. You’d think you’d just swipe left and right like the other apps. Not, you know, go to a day spa for a fancy interview.

Karma: Maybe it’s a little… unconventional, but it seemed legit to me.

Damien: Unconventional is an understatement. But hey, whatever makes you happy.

Damien pulls the car to a stop outside your apartment building.

Damien: … I actually mean that too. I want you to be happy.

Karma: Oh really? No sarcasm this time? No snarky retort?

You catch Damien’s eye as a slight smirk spreads across his face…

Damien: Despite my unflappably cool facade… I do have the capacity to care about someone. Occasionally.

Karma: Don’t get sappy on my now, Damien.

Damien: Wouldn’t dream of it.

One afternoon that weekend, you’re lounging in your apartment when a knock sounds on the door. You open it to find…

Nadia: Karma! I’m guessing you haven’t left your apartment today.

Karma: What makes you say that?

Nadia: Because if you stepped outside, you would have noticed this on your doorstep!

Nadia hands you a pristine display of flowers with an envelope attached! You open the card inside…

Karma: It’s from Eros! ‘Dear Karma, True love awaits! We’ve found someone special for you, and have already arranged your first date. At the end of the night, we’ll survey you both separately. If you both feel a connection, you’ll be declared a Match! You need only come with an open heart… and leave the rest to destiny.’

Nadia: Well, I came here hoping to ask how your appointment went, but I guess I have my answer! I remember when I got my letter from Eros…. I was so excited. This is gonna be amazeballs! Right?!

Karma: I think it’s going to be great!

Nadia: You’re right! It is! Positive thoughts, Karma! Send that out into the universe! This match they’ve found for you is your destiny!

Karma: Let’s hope so. The details on the card say that Eros has scheduled our first date… For tonight!

Nadia: Wait, what? We’ve got to get you ready!

Soon, Nadia is leading you on a last minute shopping trip. She pores over the card from Eros as you browse through outfits.

Nadia: Tonight could be the start of your beautiful, perfect love story, Karma! You’ve got to make a good impression! Luckily, Eros has you covered!

Karma: What do you mean?

Nadia: This card from Eros includes some style suggestions based on your Perfect Match’s taste! Perfectly tailored to impress him!

Karma: They can do that?

Your cousin pulls an outfit from the rack…

Nadia: This one! It fits the suggestion perfectly! Try it on!

Karma: Alright, alright…

Nadia: Ugh, slay, Karma!

Karma: I’m guessing that’s a good thing?

Nadia: Good? No. That outfit is perfect!

As the afternoon goes on and the sun starts to set, you finish prepping with Nadia… when a sudden knock at the front door sounds! You hurry over to the living room with Nadia in tow!

Nadia: Ohmygod, ohmygod… He’s here! Answer it, quick! Tonight will be the start of your beautiful storybook romance!

You try to calm your cousin as you open the door..

Karma: Relax, Nadia. It doesn’t have to be a ‘storybook romance’. No one is expecting this night to be--

Hayden: Hi, I’m Hayden. You must be Karma…

Karma: I… Um… Wow.

Thoughts on the episode…

Okay well first of all… creepy and suspicious as hell. I can’t believe Damien was the only one who was like… ‘what on earth…’ Everything about this screams dodgy. How did Nadia even find Eros in the first place? I mean, for our MC, sure - we have Nadia’s results convincing us to do it (even though Steve is a freaky robot and we can tell straight away,) but what did Nadia have? She just went for it.

Speaking of Nadia, annoying. I would love to just cut her out of the story completely. She’s too BLLURGGHHH, you know? So enthusiastic about absolutely everything. I can’t imagine what her art looks like. Probably really cheesy, basic stuff like Thomas Kinkade. Nothing edgy or cool. You could definitely buy a snowglobe with Nadia’s artwork in it.

I know that Hayden is a robot, but defo gonna smash. Like. He’s our perfect match, wiring or not. I mean, I know that Damien is there too and as soon as we get the option to seduce I shall absolutely be doing that because he is a fine piece of cartoon ass, but… where’s the fun if I can’t doodly do with the robot?

Also, shoutout to Cecile who is the hottest character at first glance I have ever seen from Pixelberry. I mean, I know she’s probably an evil lunatic hell bent on destroying us once we uncover Eros’ secrets, but still. I’m shallow and she’s hot.

Fave Character of the Chapter: Damien

Least Fave Character of the Chapter: Nadia

[newagesispage]

                                                            MARCH                                        2021

The PAGE

Stacey Abrams has been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize.

*****

The Golden Globe Noms came out.  There are some tough categories!! Who could pick in the category of actor/ drama with Bateman, Odenkirk, Pacino, Josh O’Connor and Matthew Rhys?  Another tough one is show/ drama with The Crown. Ozark, Lovecraft Country and Ratched. Directing categories are also tough with Regina King for One Night in Miami, David Fincher for Mank and Aaron Sorkin for The Trial of the Chicago 7.  There are great performances with the females but Anya Taylor-Joy and Queen’s Gambit just has to win. Will comedy be ruled by Dan Levy and co. for Schitt’s Creek? The Foreign press gave love to Chadwick Boseman and Viola Davis in Ma Rainey’s black bottom, Olivia Coleman, Jodie Comer, Sarah Paulson, Bryan Cranston, Hugh Grant and James Corden. Sacha Baron Cohen got a couple of noms. I was glad to see noms for Lin- Manuel Miranda, Andy Samberg, Dev Patel, Bill Murray, Andra Day, Glenn Close, Helena Bonham Carter and Cynthia Nixon and Jared Leto.  I was routing for Donald Sutherland in the Undoing and Jodie Foster in The Mauritanian. ** So The Globes came and went with not too much excitement. Jodie did win so hooray for her!! Catherine O’Hara, Sacha  and Mark Ruffalo won. Everyone was thrilled for The Queen’s Gambit and Anya Taylor-Joy!! There were some very long speeches and a few did dress up. There were also hoodies and jammies in the virtual world. Mank had many noms but no wins. Rosamund Pike was a surprise win but she was scary good. The hosts Amy and Tine were going for sexy!!

*****

Days alert: Will Bonnie turn out to be Adrienne with memory loss?? Will Ben find Ciara??** Who killed Charlie?** It is always good to see Sami back!!** Rex is on his way back as Xander prepares to marry.** Will Chloe and or Lani figure out the Susan ruse?? BTW, Lani’s Aunt Paulina will show up played by Jackee Harry. **Will Gwen end up in the DiMera hiding place??

*****

Kim Blickenstaff donated $300,000 to Riverview Grade School.

*****

Late night laughs: A Ted Cruise: A vaca that lasts only 1 day. ** Don Jr. called him Cancun Cruz as what we probably should not call him.!?** Scary Clown 45 made a spectacle of himself at C-Pac.

*****

It was found that Nance Legins- Costley, the first freed slave, died in Peoria, il on April 6, 1892. She was buried in Moffatt Cemetery which used to be at Adams and Griswold in Peoria, Il. This has since been paved over.

*****

David Hogg is starting a pillow company.

*****

The 18,000 acres seized from the Flathead confederated and Kootehai tribes in 1908 has been restored as part of the Covid relief package.

*****

Jennie Garth donated her $168,600 Wheel of Fortune winnings to the Central Il. Food Bank in Springfield, Il.

*****

You know that famous pic of Don Jr. on the tree stump. While looking ahead to the Trump family future, Seth Meyers called him “King of the stumps.” Simple joke but it really got me. Good one!!** Seth has signed on until at least 2025.**The Manhattan DA office has brought on Mark Pomerantz to work with Cyrus Vance. Pomerantz experience with investigating white collar and organized crime will help look into the investigation of the Trump family business. The Supreme Court has ruled that the taxes be turned over and it looks like they finally have complied.

*****

In June, Will Forte will start shooting Macgruber, the tv show.

*****

The renewal has been reversed for Stumptown. How is that even possible? No take backsies Motherfuckers!!

*****

Dolly Parton turned down Trump’s offer of the medal of arts twice because of her husband’s illness and later due to Covid restrictions. Now she feels if she accepts, there will be political implications. She also turned down a possible statue of herself in Tennessee. She wrote the legislature that there is too much going on in the world to worry about that now. Class!

*****

Mom was cancelled after 8 seasons.** Lou Dobbs was cancelled.

*****

Liberals love arguing with people who agree with them. –Rachel Wolfson

*****

Vincent D’Onofrio has a book coming out on 4-20 called Mutha: Stuff and Things

*****

President Biden has reserved 30% of Federal land and water for conservation. ** Pete Buttigieg has been confirmed as Secretary of Transportation. ** Press Aide T J Duckio is out. Let’s not start that shit already. Damn!!

*****

Never forget Tom Brady has a MAGA hat.

*****

Hooray for NASA getting to work on Mars.

*****

Donald Glover and Phoebe Waller- Bridge will be in the new Mr. and Mrs. Smith series.

*****

Hooray for the year of the OX. Good-bye to the vermin, it has to be a better year!!

*****

Scary Clown 45 was acquitted as we knew he would be. Thank you to 7 Republicans with a conscious but it just wasn’t enough. ** It has been found that people who guarded Roger Stone were part of the insurrection.**How can Senators making a decision freely talk to one side of the argument before their decision??

*****

One pundit talking of the impeachment proceedings called it the “Festivus sessions” as it was an airing of grievances.

***** In sexual assault news: Marilyn Manson is the latest being accused of abuse.  Did he have  a rape room?? Such a shame he’s an alleged pig!**James Franco settled his sexual misconduct lawsuit.

*****

I have always hated Subway. I tried to eat there 3 times in my life and twice this iron stomach got sick. The word seems to be it isn’t bread, it isn’t meat and it isn’t cheese. Why do other countries have to tell us these things?? Is this true?

*****

There was a coup in Myanmar and Biden imposed sanctions. Activists are asking for International help.

*****

More in sexual abuse news: T.I. and Tiny accused of drugging and coercing women into sex. ** Shia LaBeouf was accused of abuse by his former girlfriend, FKA Twigs.

*****

How wonderful it was for Jason Isbell to donate his portion of the money he made for writing ‘Cover me up’ to the Nashville chapter of the NAACP.  Apparently people ran out to buy the Morgan Wallen album after his use of the N word and Isbell came up with a great use of his profit.

*****

James Patterson’s, The last days of Lennon is not really by him. The book comes from his factory and the reviews are not good.

*****

Eugene Goodman may have literally saved the Republic. – The Intellectualist

*****

R.I.P. All the animals and people lost to the cold in Texas and the rest of the country, Prince Markie Dee, Brayden Smith, Dustin Diamond, Hal Holbrook, S. Clay Wilson, Mary Wilson, Jean-Claude Carriere, Chick Corea, Rennie Davis, Robert C. Jones, U-Roy, Arturo Di Modica, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Larry Flynt and Christopher Plummer.

[mirroredtranslations]

Karen Ogre - Chapter 6

Wazamonogatari – Nisioisin p. 148-157

[Previous Chapter]

I'm not good at cooking.

I never really did any at home—certainly never on the side of a mountain.

Just the practice cooking I did at school.

And in the Araragi household, we didn't have the type of family environment where we'd go camping during summer break—even less so after Nii-chan became a high schooler.

I'd never actually used the equipment I'd brought with me.

I'd thought that maybe I should bring rations that took less time and effort to prepare, but...

“That's no good! The atmosphere is important in mountain seclusion. Bringing the latest in cooking tools would ruin the mood!”

Tsukihi-chan had insisted.

“Don't worry, I'll give you a meticulous explanation of how to use a mess kit! Meticulous! The only thing I'll let you off not knowing is how to spell it!”(1)

Tsukihi-chan, like me, hadn't been camping before, but in many ways cooking was my unexpectedly survivalist little sister's specialty.

My sister might be lacking in intelligence, but I get the impression she'd be a strong contender in a survival struggle.

I'm sure Tsukihi-chan could procure food from even a mountainside without much fuss—as the Fire Sister in charge of planning, maybe she could set some marvelous traps.

Anyway, following my little sister's instructions, I used the mess kit, the water I'd drawn from the stream, and the portable gas burner to cook the rice—it's just shameful, having such a tough time over something as trivial as this.

It's pathetic. Am I really this incapable of a person?

I wonder if this is what Master meant by “face yourself.” Like, know the difficulty of living on your own... Or like, know what you are unable to do... But those seem like things I could learn without having to climb mountains and bathe in a waterfall.

I'd know if she'd have just told me verbally.

Well, I can't avoid mentioning how much rice I burned, and I honestly would rather not talk about a meal cooked with water that wasn't very tasty, so I'll spare you all of the details—but the smell produced when I cooked the rice was, somehow, not that bad.

I thought so myself.

As did the wild bears, it seemed.

“Wait. Beeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaars!?”

Even at a zoo, one of the things you simply must not do when you encounter a large predator is to panic and start yelling; though I'd known that beforehand, in the end having knowledge is different from putting it into practice, and actually seeing a bear before my very eyes, it was impossible for me not to scream.

I mean, they're goddamn massive.

Bears!

Nothing beats bears!

And these bears were in a group.

There were four of them.

No, wait, wait, this isn't a children's anime; are bears really herd animals? In any case I was ignorant on the subject (no situation would make you more ashamed of your ignorance than this), so I can't say for certain, but it doesn't really seem like they group up and form communities...

However, there is one exception.

Indeed—the case of parents and children.

From that point of view, the bear in the lead would be the mother, and the remaining three smaller (but still plenty big!) bears would be the children.

If they were humans, a mother accompanied by her three children would be a combination that'd give you a sense of security, a group that would make you feel warm and fluffy from seeing it, but because they're bears, things were utterly different.

A bear with her children.

Something one absolutely must not provoke.

That's a bit of miscellaneous common knowledge even an ignoramus like me would know.

And if they were lured here by the smell of my food, that means this family of bears was hungry.

It was the worst of the worst of the worst-case scenarios.

Even worse was the fact that there wasn't enough rice left in the mess kit for me to share with the bears—not even a single grain stuck to the side.

Do bears even eat rice in the first place? Were they just attracted by a nice smell as they went to catch fish?

...Well, whether or not bears ate rice was a secondary concern at the moment; the dangerous problem currently cornering me was whether or not bears ate humans.

Whether or not they preyed on humans.

The scene almost looked humorous, but it was a thoroughly serious one.

It couldn't be more serious.

In the martial arts world, not just in karate, you hear legends of so-called supernatural feats of victory in fights with large predators like bears and lions... but I couldn't even catch a squirrel. There's no way I'd stand a chance against four bears.

I probably wouldn't be able to take on bears at a zoo, and these are wild bears.

In their natural habitat.

When I looked into the eyes of the bears as they looked at me, my fighting spirit, willpower, desire for battle, and my pride as a human being quickly vanished—even I was surprised.

Completely disappeared.

Those eyes were looking at a meal.

At prey—at food.

“Ah,” I said, quietly understanding.

Decisively, I'd been taught the correct answer to the food issue that had been bothering me until now.

That is, an answer I still wasn't capable of thinking of, an unquestionable, obvious answer—in short, that humans are food too.

A natural result of “survival of the fittest”—of the food chain.

Linking and connecting.

A chain reaction of food with food.

“......”

I mean, it's not like I've achieved some kind of enlightenment and graciously want to fulfill my role as one part of the chain by getting eaten.

No way in hell.

I don't wanna die, and I don't wanna get eaten.

I haven't even crossed a single mountain yet, let alone bathe in a waterfall—Master is Master, but why didn't she let me know if there were going to be bears?

Or is it my fault for going off the path in search of water? Maybe it wasn't the bears who came after me, but me who trespassed in the bears' territory.

To think I'd encounter bears instead of demons...(2)

I'd rather meet a demon!

“Dammit! If that's how it is, I've just gotta fight!”

“Are ye a fool? Ye don't 'just gotta fight'.”

Steeling my stomach, I'd clenched my fists and was about to jump at the mother bear, when my feet rose into the air and I fell down.

It appeared I'd been suplexed by someone directly behind me—no, not suplexed.

If I got suplexed onto the ground of a scree slope covered in rocks, I'd die instantly.

That'd just make it easy for the bears to eat my smashed up, oozing brains. Why would someone deliberately make it easier for the bears to eat me?

“How annoying. They'd eat your steeled stomach too, you know. Anyway, at the very least, play dead.”

With that retort, whoever it was right behind me released me from the suplex that they'd stopped just short of finishing—speaking of which, who was right behind me?

Who?

Looking up, I saw she had blond hair in a bun.

An older girl, around 20, sporting trousers.

“H-huh? Before, at the foot of the mountain, I met a girl who looked like a relative of yours.”

“Ah. That's my cousin.”

She declared—so powerfully there was questioning the declaration.

Well, their faces are built similarly, so it's probably true. Although, Blond Bun-san was about the same height as me.

Even if the appearance of bears was more than I could handle, for me to not only enter their attack range, but to try to do some showy pro-wrestling was a huge mistake—but somehow.

Somehow, I was saved—it seemed.

Just like I'd been saved by her cousin.

...Needless to say, trying a desperate suicide attack against wild bears was not within the bounds of sanity, even for me. I could only think that I'd lost my composure.

“Good grief. Getting attacked by bears on day one, you’re just as much of a disaster magnet as your brother.”

“Hm? Onee-san, do you know my brother?”

Blond Bun-san was silent for a little, then replied in a torrent of words.

“Hey now, if ye be hearing auditory hallucinations like that, perhaps ye haven't yet regained your sanity. There's no way a mountain climber ye came across on the side of a mountain would happen to know your brother. And ‘tis even more ridiculous to think I've been ordered by your brother to lurk in your shadow and follow ye around.”

Oh dear, she's entirely correct—well, if there's a beautiful foreign lady, the kind people become fascinated with against their better judgment, as well as four bears close by, most people wouldn't be able to keep their composure.

I mean, this isn't the time for composure!

I'm eternally grateful for her stopping me from thoughtlessly and rashly trying to battle a mother bear, but that doesn't mean the situation has been resolved—this is still a critical situation.

Far from it; the situation has gotten worse.

It's gotten worse and worse.

In a broad sense, me being attacked by a mother bear and her party that I'd invited by my own carelessness (I'd carefully doused the fire, but that had backfired, since wild animals are afraid of fire—as a former Fire Sister, it was an unthinkable oversight) could be explained away as reaping what I sowed; but my goodness, I'd ended up dragging a tourist into this mess who'd come all the way to Japan and just happened to be passing by!

I was overcome with a sense of duty to protect this girl no matter what.

Spreading my arms wide, I stood between the bears and Blond Bun-san.

“Run! I'll hold them back here!”

In my whole life, I never thought I'd be blessed with a chance to actually say a line like “Leave this to me, you go on ahead”.

I even felt rewarded.

Well, in this case, the way in which I'd be “holding them back” was more like “getting eaten”, so that expression wasn't exactly accurate(3)... But, anyway, I'll buy as much time as I can.

This isn't a matter of winning or losing... Hm?

Did Master tell me something like that?

Eh, this is no time to be thinking about that. I'm about to take on four bears; there's no time for thinking!

“Bring it on!”

I yelled, still unable to regain my composure.

Feeling my blood boiling hot, I fired myself up for the fight—but...

As I glared at them as if I could whack them just with my eyes, the mother bear and her party turned their backs on me, and started shuffling away dejectedly.

Calling them “dejected” is a bit euphemistic; actually, they were running away at full speed deep into the forest—all that remained of the bears' backs in my field of vision slowly disappeared into the empty space.

“H-huh?”

“Ka ka! Hey, bears are cowardly animals at heart, ye know. If a human makes a big fuss, that can be enough to drive them away; 'twould seem your angry yelling scared them off. That's by no means just my expert opinion.”

Blond Bun-san laughed—an old-fashioned laugh.

R-right.

Now that you mention it, I may have heard somewhere that bears are cowards... But the idea that they won't approach humans when they're noisy and making a fuss, isn't that just before you get face to face with them?

If a bear is drawn to the smell of food and approaches you, then that doesn't apply anymore, or maybe, if you take use idea from the start, couldn't making a fuss actually end up backfiring? Hmm, but, they did run away when I yelled.

Might be individual differences.

Can't talk about all bears like they're the same, huh.

To think my angry shout would have such power... Maybe my recent hard training had born even more fruit than I'd imagined.

I did achieve total mastery.

Or possibly excommunication.

“Well, be as careful as ye can on your way from here on—mm, I'm on my way back, so I can't go with ye, but I can grant ye this.”

As if she was trying to wrap up the discussion about the bears running away as fast as possible, the older girl handed me a small object—what is this, a piece of candy?

I popped it into my mouth.

“Idiot!”

She slapped me.

Not only have I been suplexed by this strange person, but now slapped as well—huh? Does this mean I still haven't had nearly enough training? Or maybe this person does martial arts too?

She has a great figure, after all.

“Don't put anything and everything in your mouth! This is why ye get your teeth brushed by your brother!”

Hm? Did I tell her about that?

I must have told her earlier that I had a brother, so I suppose that's something that typically happens with brothers and sisters.

It certainly happens in the Araragi household.

It happens.

Anyway, because of the slap, I spat out the object in my mouth.

It wasn't candy.

It was a bell.

Not a handbell—a round bell.

“’Tis called a bear bell. Attach it to your bag. ‘Twill jingle every time ye take a step, so it should discourage the bears.”

Ah, I see.

There are some smart people in the world.

Whoever thought of this was a genius.

Since the motions of martial arts are drilled into the very marrow of my bones, naturally, I have a habit of moving not just without making the sound of footsteps, but without even the sound of rustling my clothes—but now I guess I have to do the opposite.

“And this as well. Even if ye attach the bell to your bag, bears might still come for ye—ye ought not be empty-handed.”

I'd put down my bag for a moment to furnish it with the bell, as she'd instructed, when the next thing Blond Bun-san held out to me was a long, rod-shaped object.

“Do not swallow this, okay?”

'Cause you're not me.

I accepted that condition (the second part was rather cryptic—“'cause you're not me”?), but even if I hadn't been told, there's no way even I could swallow something that big.

What is it, a ski pole?

Even if it's not a “must” item for mountain climbing, it's a tool used by lots of people—you often see footage of mountain climbers on TV with canes in both hands, like they're skiing.

She's lending me one of those?

Or so I thought, but I was wrong.

It wasn't a ski pole—it was a naked Japanese sword.

[Next Chapter]

Footnotes: (1) In the Japanese, Tsukihi says the only thing Karen doesn't have to know how to use is the character 爨 in the word 炊爨 (suisan), which means “cooking rice”. The “joke” is that the character is exceptionally rare and very hard to write. (2) As noted previously, the mountain she's currently on is called “Oniai”, which means “Demon Encounter”. (3) The Japanese uses an idiom for “holding back” that literally means something like “stop from eating”, and Karen says it's more like she's “stopping them by getting eaten”, and comments on the relevance of the idiom to the situation.

[plainofshinarquotes]

Thomas Stackhouse, A History of the Holy Bible, 1817

Page 223: Footnote: This is by much the most probable solution of the difficulty, if it be a difficulty, that can be offered. It is not to be supposed that the race of mankind moved from Armenia, or the plains in the neighborhood of Ararat, in on body as soon as they felt themselves straitened in room. They doubtless sent off small colonies in all directions; and though the concise history of Moses makes no mention of their first migrations, it is impossible to doubt but that as they took place long before the events, which, as they were of the greatest importance, he hastens to narrate. Now nothing is more easily conceived than that some of those colonies, which had at first migrated from Ararat toward the east, might return from the east when they became weary of their new habitations, or again felt themselves straitened in room, and journeying in a somewhat different direction from their former route, might fall on the plain of Shiner in their progress westward, or west and by south.

Page 224: As soon as Moses has brought the there sons of Noah out of the ark, he takes care to inform us, that (Gene. 9:19) “of them was the whole earth overspread:” After he has given us the name of their descendants, at the time of their dispersion, he subjoins, and (10:32) “by these were the nations divided in the earth after the Flood:” And then, proceeding to give us an account of this memorable transaction, he tells us, that (11:1) “the whole earth was of one language, and of one speech;” and that as “they” (namely, the whole earth) (11:2) “journeyed from the east, they found a plain in the land of Shiner, and dwelt there,” etc. (Universal History, L. 1, C. 2.) So that, from the beginning to the end of this transaction, the connection between the antecedent and relative is so well preserved, that there is no room to suppose, that any less than all mankind were gathered together on the plain of Shiner, and assist in the building of Babel: Nor seems it improbable, that Moses has made these unusual repetitions, to inculcate the certainty of that fact, and to take away all ground for supposing, that any other branch of Noah’s posterity was in any other part of the earth at that time.

Footnote: This reasoning is by no means conclusive; and by the chronology of the present Hebrew txt, which is adopted by our author, it cannot possibly be admitted. According to that chronology, not only Shem, Ham, and Japheth, but even Noah himself were alive when the rebellious project was entered into on the plain of Shiner; and is it conceivable that these patriarchs could, so soon as in the space of a hundred years, have forgotten the tremendous visitation of the deluge, and again presumptuously provoked that God, who had so graciously spared them amid universal destruction? That they, if alive, could not be ignorant that the project was contrary to the ordinance of God, is evident from the preceding chapter and from the remainder of that in which this event is recorded, where it appears evident that, by the Divine designation, mankind were to be spread in different nations over the whole earth, and not to found one great empire of which the capital was to be built in Shinar or anywhere else. Mankind indeed have always been prone to follow their own inventions, and to despise the wisdom of age and experience; but it is not conceivable that the immediate descendants of Shem and Japheth should have resisted the authority of their fathers and grandfathers, or despise their experience, confirmed as that experience must have been, by the remains of the ark certainly preserve long after that period, and by the evidence, which the art must then have everywhere exhibited of tis having been lately covered with water. These facts seem to furnish an insurmountable argument against the truth of the hypothesis that the tower of Babel was begun to be built within a hundred years after the flood, as well as against our author’s opinion, that all mankind had embarked in the undertaking even at the latest period at which it has been placed. Their great object was to prevent themselves from being scattered abroad, and to make to themselves a name! What they could mean by the said name it is impossible to conceive, if all mankind were to share in that name; for in the estimation of whom could all men unit in one society be great or famous? That they were not idiots, who undertook to build the tower and city of Babel is evident from the judicious expedient on which they fell to supply the want of stone and mortar; and yet none but idiots could suppose it possible to live forever and multiply, without dispersing themselves beyond the limits of Babylonia and Assyria.

Page 241: In the 70th year of Reu — the sixth in descent from Shem — B.C. 2554 according to Abulfaragi, of sixty years after the division of the earth began to take place, and in the 200th year of Peleg; in the course of the migrations of the Cushiness from ‘the East,’ or original settlement of their family beyond the Tigris, as they journeyed towards their destination, they stopped and dwelt in the plain of Shinar, which belonged to the Arphaxadites of the family of Shem; and there they rebelled against the Divine decree,” and brought on themselves the punishment which has been already related. They were scattered abroad on the face of the whole earth; whence, says the same author, the plain was called ?? which signifies “he scattereth;” and it is truly remarkable, as he observes, that the town and district of Senaar in Abyssinia, (Nubia) bear witness to the dispersion of the Cushiness into the heart of Africa at the present day. “The leader in this disastrous enterprise, which instead of renown brought shame and confusion on the perpetrators, was Nimrod, signifying the Rebel by way of bad eminence.”

Page 264: Nimrod was the first man we meet with in Scripture who made invasions upon the territories of others: For he dispossessed Ashur, the son of Shem, who had settled himself in Shiner, and obliged him to remove into Assyria, whilst himself seized on Babylon, and having repaired, and not a little enlarged it, made it the capital of his kingdom. [Footnote: This is not accurate. It was either Arphaxad, or rather the descendants of Arphaxad, that Nimrod drove from that part of the plain of Shiner, on which he built the tower of Babel. Afterwards indeed he usurped the territory of the sons of Ashur, and proceeded to build the city of Nineveh and lay the foundation of the Assyrian empire. See the Appendix to the preceding Dissertation on the tower of Babel.]

Page 567: In this state of things, with the awful remembrance of the deluge continually present to their minds, religion might for some time be safely propagated by tradition. In no long time, however, Noah died; the earth became gradually dry; the dreadful visitation of the deluge was forgotten; and the traditions respecting the antediluvian world were either forgotten with it, or greatly corrupted. At last the impious attempt of the children of ham to defeat the Divine purpose for peopling the regions at a distance from the plain of Shiner, brought on them a judgment, which scattered them, probably in small tribes, over the face of the earth; and in those tribes, idolatry with all its train of impurities and vices, appears to have taken its rise, and to have gradually infected the whole race of man. The contagion had spread indeed so far, within the compass of a few centuries, that God, in his infinite wisdom, saw it expedient not only to shorten the lives of men, but also to withdraw his presence entirely from the race at large, who had rendered themselves utterly unworthy of such communications of his will as had hitherto been occasionally vouchsafed to them; and to select a single family, in which, grown up to a nation, his worship might be preserved pure amidst the various corruptions that had then overspread the world, and the duties of natural religion be practiced upon sound and stable principles.