#just. look. it's hard to draw a person who is as close to triangular as a human can possibly get. ok??? ok

[krysmcscience]

BILLDUMP TIME (with transparency, because I can). Don't mind me, I'm just yeeting my goofy art at some way more talented individuals out of nowhere and then hauling ass back to the security of being a weird silent lurker ahaha

@tesscourtes and @beccadrawsstuff, respectively! These two Bills make a little prism of sorts together because of their recent crossovers on Patreon~ :3c Speaking of which, I highly recommend supporting both these artists! They do fantastic work! (TessCourtes and Beccup)

@qoolk on the left, and @monobmp on the right! I am such a sucker for these outfits~ OuO Go and check these two out, their art is phenomenal!!! >u<

@1spooky2me The most difficult Bill of the lot for me to draw, ahaha... Their art is so incredibly consistent and dynamic, I am, a little envious <:,) A little envious, but mostly impressed, so go look at their amazing art, what are you waiting for

And finally, @ckret2, whose writing is sublimely in-character and just a delight to read - they're a great artist, as well! I simply Could Not resist drawing their Bill in this ridiculous incredible and very fashionable pink feather dress, even though he only briefly wears it in their fic, so I also did a little bonus doodle of him in his standard hoodie to make up for it. XD (Also, as far as I'm concerned, Bill and Mabel were both correct in that lime green accessories make the dress Much Better.)

This is just a small selection of the human Bill designs I enjoy. I may draw and post more later on, who knows! Feel free to reblog with some neat Bill designs, either your own or by other folks - if any of the designs particularly call to me, I'll add them to the little list I've got going~ :D (Alternatively, if you really like my stuff and want me to draw something specific, you could...mmm...perhaps, commission me...? OuO)

Also I'm tagging Billford because uhhhh yeah, sorry not sorry, every single one of these Bills is getting shipped with Ford by the artists in some way or another, lmao

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 6

If sharing a glass of wine with Harry the other night didn’t make you wish things could go back to normal--whatever that was--seeing him with CeCe before bed did.

She stomped her feet in the bathroom when you brushed through her hair. “I’m not tired! I want to stay up later with Maeve!”

Maybe that was another parenting fail in the last year--giving Maeve a later bedtime. She had bargained with you long and hard. She wanted more time on her phone but you wouldn’t budge. When you had heard enough of the I’m practically a teenager, mom! you figured there probably wasn’t an easy way to tell her that in two years she’d look back at herself and laugh.

So you caved, which you were doing more of lately but only with the silly stuff: bedtime, playing outside, dessert before dinner on occasion and even a PG-13 movie at a friend’s house when Maeve really got snippy with you.

But your energy was draining. After all the shit you’d put up with, you figured that hearing a few swears or seeing a high school party wouldn’t kill your 11-year-old.

CeCe, on the other hand, might be the death of you.

She was more outspoken than her sister, if that was possible. She had lungs on her that carried her voice through the house, especially when she whined.

“I want to stay up late!”

“You can’t,” you told her firmly. “I’m sorry. You’ll thank me tomorrow when you wake up refreshed.”

She made a face at you in the bathroom mirror, she probably didn’t understand what you meant but you smiled back at her anyway.

“I don’t want to sleep.”

You didn’t reply, instead let out a sigh and ignored the way she pouted until she stomped her feet again. “I want to watch TV!”

She smacked a fist on the counter when you didn’t reply, your eyes went wide with shock. “Cecelia Rose,” you scolded. “You do not yell at mommy like that or bang your fist on the counter.”

Maeve was nowhere to be found, likely scrolling in a group chat with other pre-teens who sent too many emojis. You almost wished she’d pop her head in to intervene--sometimes she was good at talking CeCe off the ledge, even if just to distract her.

The next best thing, though, when Harry knocked on the door and peered through the crack. “Everything alright?”

“Just dandy,” you forced a smile.

“Mommy is making me sleep,” CeCe frowned up at him.

“She is?”

“She is,” she nodded. “And I’m not tired.”

“Well, mommy has good reasoning, you’ll be sleepy tomorrow if you don’t sleep now.”

She didn’t seem to care, she crossed her arms over her chest once you finished the braid at the base of her neck and clapped her on the shoulder. “I won’t be tired.”

“Do you want to read together?”

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes, almost like she was waiting for the catch. When he smiled again, she let out a hefty sigh but headed for the door. “Fine.”

Harry smiled over his shoulder at you and followed behind her, trailing her down the hall until she took the left turn into her bedroom with a butterfly carpet. She walked over the bookshelf, picked out The Big Book of Bedtime Stories, and pulled the sheets back.

You were in the doorway, watching as she fluffed her own pillow and then looked up at Harry. “Are you coming?”

She patted the spot next to her, gesturing for him to get close enough for her to fall asleep on his shoulder. He hesitated, stole a glance in your direction and then did as she said. He adjusted the pillow behind his head and CeCe wriggled beside him until she was comfortable. When she was, she nestled right into him, looked up at you and then said: “are you coming?”

You paused, parted your lips to let her down gently, but then something in you tugged your torso towards his. He was surprised by this, too, shifted in the tiny bed to make room for you to crawl over and squish yourself between CeCe and the wall.

Harry, with a smirk on his lips, looked over at you when he opened the book to CeCe’s favorite story. “Comfortable?”

“Go ahead,” you rolled your eyes, ignoring the silliness of the moment but somehow wishing it was routine.

You put a hand on her pajama pants, petting her mindlessly as you listened to Harry’s voice when he thumbed through the pages. You’d had moments like these with Luke, when Maeve was tiny and CeCe was barely a thought. It’d been a while since you laid in bed with another adult, your child between you as she let out sleepy sighs and fluttered her eyelashes against her cheek.

The lights were dim now, you watched as his fingers pulled each page and tried to forget the way they pulled moans from your mouth.

He stopped halfway through, looked over at you and smirked when her breathing got heavier, but he kept going. He’d learned: if you stop too soon, she’d bolt awake and tell you she’d never fallen asleep to begin with.

He carried on like that for a while, glancing over to see if her eyes were open, sometimes catching your gaze but looking away quickly. Timid, like he was just as unsure as you were.

He finished a story and started a new one, and for a moment you wondered if he kept reading just to not disturb the scene: the two of you with your daughter sandwiched between. If someone looked in on it from the outside, they’d think you were a family.

Eventually he cut himself off mid sentence, derailed the story of the princess and the pea to ask you: “should I keep going?”

“No,” you laughed a little. “She’s out. We’re fine.”

He shut the book and pulled away from her gently. You lifted her head a little and tugged your arm out from the sheets and he placed the book on the desk to the right of her bed. He stuck his hand out to help you climb over her quietly. She stirred, opened her eyes and looked up at the two of you.

“Love you mommy,” she said, you bent down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Love you too, sweetie.”

“Love you, Harry,” she said through a sigh, eyes already closing when you turned around to leave. His eyes locked on yours, caught off guard and unsure of how to reply, but he looked down at her, lips in a small smile.

“Love you too, CeCe.”

And just like that, your life turned to a personally targeted and especially cruel single-mom hell. It was already there, practically. He played outside with your kids? He drove Maeve to play dates and picked CeCe up from ballet? He cooked dinner and poured you wine and tucked deep inside your memory were images of his head between your legs and his fingers laced with yours.

And now he said he loved one of them? You made a beeline for your bedroom, shut the door and didn’t say goodnight because you knew it would only get worse from here.

You were right. It was torture. Daydream, fairytale level torture when he helped Maeve with her homework the next night and even more painful when CeCe fell asleep with her head in his lap after a movie.

Maybe the worst part, though, was when you sat beside him on the patio a few nights later. The sun had set and you had a glass of crisp rosé in your hand when he turned to you.

“Look what CeCe brought home the other day,” he moved his phone to show you the screen. A drawing of stick figures, red and green and blue under a yellow house. He pinched the screen to zoom in, the actual artwork was nowhere to be found.

“What is it?” You tilted your head to the side and let out a quiet laugh. Her drawing needed work, but the color choices were bright and vibrant, just like her.

“Well, it’s us I think.”

“Us?” You looked up at him for a moment, CeCe hit the tennis ball into the pool and Maeve let out a frustrated groan.

“That’s her, with the tutu obviously. That’s Maeve and you right there--I’m assuming, by the way. This is all interpretation.”

You let out a laugh but watched when he zoomed in on the other stick figure.

“And that’s me, I think,” he tilted his head sideways now, looked at it closer. "With the guitar." You reached out your hand, brought his phone closer when he let you have it.

“When did she give this to you?”

“Monday--no, Tuesday, I think.”

“What did she say?”

He shrugged when you looked up. Maeve had gotten the leaf skimmer and CeCe clapped when the tennis ball was back on dry land.

“She said she drew ‘home.’”

“Home?”

He nodded, looked back over at you with raised eyebrows, a sense of nonchalance when he held his palm out to retrieve his phone. “Cute, right?”

It was cute, obviously. It was sweet and endearing and then you asked: “where’s the actual drawing?”

“On my nightstand.” He watched as CeCe tugged a hoola hoop from a bucket of toys. “Might frame it and show her, she’d be so excited.”

“She would be,” you nodded. “She’d love that.”

He left it alone, showed Maeve how to swing the bat better before you eventually decided it was too dark to sit outside. They sat at the island and ate ice cream, cherries and sprinkles and Harry even doused his in chocolate sauce.

Your heart ached for the family that CeCe drew: one with less complexity and one where age differences didn’t mean a thing. One where there was no such thing as death or divorce. Just four stick figures beneath a triangular roof with grass scribbled around the edges of paper.

You wished, desperately, that the four of you could be the stick figure family with no worries and no problems. You wished time could freeze and Harry’s house wouldn’t be ready in another 10 days. In a way you wished that Luke didn’t exist, you wished that your life was as simple as it looked on 8 x 11 inch paper with scribbled marker.

**

Zoey stood in your bedroom, lips pushed out in thought when you held up a different necklace. “This one is chunkier which I can’t tell if I like.”

She thought on it for a second, already dressed and ready to go like the timely human she was.

“I like the first one,” she nodded. “It’s more I’m the boss than that one.”

You laughed at her reasoning, held it up to your neck when CeCe burst through the doors with a scowl on her face. “Mommy, Maeve said I’m being stupid and annoying.”

You frowned at her but clasped the necklace around your neck, “that’s not very nice of her. Why’d she say that?”

“Because I was asking her to push me on the swing but she was too busy texting someone.”

You let out a sigh and made a face at Zoey in the mirror. Buying Maeve a cell phone was something you’d thought long and hard about. She begged and begged for one at her birthday, but something felt wrong about handing over a thousand dollar piece of technology to someone who was barely old enough to watch TV unsupervised.

Harry and Luke’s punching incident is what did you in, though. What if Maeve was at a friend’s house and something like that happened? You needed her to be able to contact you in case she felt unsafe or uncomfortable.

You also figured it would be a good way to distract her from what was really going on under your roof: mom fell for the guy who stayed in our guest suite and now it’s a hot mess.

“You’re not stupid or annoying,” Zoey reassured her. “Maeve just thinks she’s too cool for everyone now that she has a phone.”

CeCe let out a dramatic sigh. “You can say that again.”

A knock on the door, she turned around to see Harry. “Maeve said I’m stupid and annoying.”

Harry frowned and knelt in front of her. “That’s not true.”

“Oh I know,” she shrugged. “I just think that’s stupid and annoying of her to say that.”

You bit back a laugh when he looked up at you, shocked by her attitude and her wit before she ran off to her bedroom down the hall.

Harry stood back up and greeted Zoey. “Hi--how’re Shawn and Benny?”

“They’re great, and they’re on their own tonight which I am so grateful for.” She’d been dying for another night out of the house, she talked for weeks about what she wanted to wear and what she was going to drink. “You two should meet, you and Shawn. He’s not a musician by any means but he’s a killer steering wheel drummer when we have the classic rock hits on.”

Harry laughed, looked over to you quickly before nodding in Zoey’s direction. “I’d love that, maybe we could all have dinner.”

You nodded at the suggestion, hooked an earring into place before Harry remembered why he came in.

“Speaking of dinner, I have a meeting with my stylist but I’ll be there tonight, obviously. Probably around 7:15 though, is that alright?”

“Totally fine,” you nodded. He told you a few days earlier that you’d have to drive separately, quelling your anxiety about showing up together and going home together. Your living situation was no one’s business, but having Harry at the launch party to begin with was sure to stir up enough chatter, even if it was mostly from Tristan or Jeff.

You’d been trying to hide your anxiety. This was your biggest launch to date, arguably a step outside your comfort zone and feeling so uncertain about things at home left you feeling more nervous to have your employees and your friends in the same spot. The girls were headed to Shelli’s, a movie night and arts and crafts, she promised.

But it was setting in now, questions and thoughts and worries were bouncing around in your head like a pinball machine.

Would Maeve and CeCe behave for Shelli? Would they get along with each other? Would the launch party go well? Would Tristan bring a date? Would people like the body wash? Would Harry sit next to you at dinner? Would things ever feel normal between the two of you again or would he move out and fade out of your life like he’d never even entered it at all?

Zoey had stepped out into the hallway, phone pressed to her ear as Shawn asked a question about formula.

“You alright?”

Harry was still in the doorway, suit pants on and a white button down as he waited for your answer.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just nervous.”

“Hey,” he took a step towards you. “It’s going to be great. You’re going to be great.” He placed a hand on your shoulder and then withdrew it. “You are great.”

You smiled, appreciative of his kindness but already overthinking the way he pulled his hand away, like your skin was too hot to touch or like your bodies coming into contact was suddenly forbidden.

“I just want the body wash to do well and I want the dinner to go smoothly. Tristan always goes overboard with these events and I just hope that the food is good, I mean, I’ve never eaten here before--”

He laughed, “hey, it’s going to be fine. I might be a bit late but I’ll get there and Jeff and I can do something stupid to make you laugh and forget about the stress of it all. Everyone wins.”

You nodded, reassured by his words but also caught off guard by how easy it was to admit: “I’m really glad you’re coming.”

“Me too,” he nodded. “Kind of feels like we haven’t seen each other much lately.”

You lifted your eyebrows at that, a week since Luke’s surprise visit and a week since Harry had so much as looked your way for more than ten seconds. You hadn’t told him to stop, you never said you didn’t want to keep sleeping with him or anything of the sort, but he took your words on the patio to mean that, apparently.

How were you supposed to backtrack? How were you supposed to have a conversation with him about it when there’d never been one in the first place?

If you hadn’t defined it originally, how were you supposed to quantify the change that had occurred as the bruise on his skin faded to a pale yellow?

“Okay,” Zoey laughed, a shake of her head when she ended the call and came back into the master suite. “How hard is it to find the bottle brush in the drawer where it’s literally been for the entirety of Benny’s short life?” She cut herself off when she looked up from her phone to see how close Harry stood to you.

He backed up. “Good luck, you’re going to kill it. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You nodded. “Yes, right. Thanks.”

He turned on his heel and offered a smile to Zoey, whose eyes immediately flew to yours once he was descending the stairs. You briefed her over lunch shortly after Luke had shown up on your doorstep, but Zoey was decidedly team Harry and had a hard time even admitting that he shouldn't have gotten involved.

Her eyes were wide, lips set in a frown as if she’d just witnessed the most adorable thing. “He likes you so much.”

“No, Zoey, stop.”

“I leave the room for one second and you're having a heart to heart?”

“We weren't having a heart to heart,” you rolled your eyes. “He was just offering some encouragement.”

Partially true. His words were encouraging and that seemed to be the point of him coming up here. But you couldn’t admit to Zoey that part of your anxiety about the night was related to him. It felt stupid to admit that pulling back made you miss him, made you feel like something was missing.

Those feelings left your heart and your head a mess, unsure about what you needed and wanted and even more confused about what was right for everyone.

You turned back to the mirror to put your other earring in place. Zoey didn’t say more, she didn’t need to. She smiled at your reflection and you both knew that your words didn’t even begin to capture the complexity of it all. But you had a launch party to get to.

Your champagne flute was filled when you walked in, which was a great step towards quelling the nerves. Tristan was already working the crowd with grace and poise, smile plastered on his face when he bragged about all of the hard work your team had put in on this.

Zoey was excited to pump and dump in the bathroom, your employees were already plucking hors d'oeuvres from silver platters, and you just tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest of wishing your dad was here. He’d be proud, no doubt, he’d be excited for you and he’d be cracking jokes with Irv in the corner as Jeff tried to keep them under control.

The emptiness that he left in your life was something you’d live with forever, you were sure of this until suddenly there was a man in your house with a dimpled smile and patience for your children that you never saw coming.

Another look around the room, balloons in the corner, high heels and lipstick on the women that made your team what it was. A moment of excitement, of celebration, and yet your heartbeat picked up when you realized that you were here, alone.

You plucked your phone out to check the time, 7:24pm. He’d said 7:15--he clasped his hands on your shoulders like he meant it and you wondered where he was. Tristan pulled you over to another friendly face before you could sink too far down that rabbit hole.

Zoey had Shawn, Shelli had Irv, Jeff always had someone. Even Tristan had Tinder dates for the nights that he got lonely. You had the girls, of course, you had a life that you loved and a job you were proud of. But what did that matter if you didn’t have someone to share it with, to whisper to in the mornings when sun streamed through the windows and you were woken up too early by daughters that begged for adventures?

You’d grown used to feeling that way. Your marriage was over long before the papers were signed, but your father’s sudden decline left you reeling and unsure which way was up.

You’d never admit it aloud, but Harry showing up brought you back down to earth and kept you tethered to a life that felt manageable and doable and somehow possible.

Another glance at the time, 7:32pm. Tristan asked when you wanted to make a toast and thank everyone for coming to celebrate, you made an excuse and tried to buy yourself time like his absence was currency.

You wanted him here, you wanted his arm around your shoulders and you wanted to introduce him to your team--take a bite of his dinner and then bring him home like that was where he belonged.

How embarrassing, though, you talked yourself up enough to let him come and introduce him to the rest of the girls at work, only to be stood up or forgotten or altogether abandoned. Your fantasy of being with him felt even more stupid and naive when you realized that it’d probably never be like that.

Your glass was refilled at 7:49pm, Zoey laughed when your head of marketing recounted the embarrassing moment when a picture of Maeve ended up on the company instagram story.

Frustration, anger, maybe both when the clock struck 8pm. Forty-five minutes late without a text message? But those emotions were drowned out by the judgment: why do you care, he’s not your boyfriend, this doesn’t mean anything.

You answered too quickly when he called, phone pressed to your face: where are you?

Pulling up, down the street, I’m so sorry.

You handed your drink to Tristan, pushed out to the parking lot to find him jogging towards the door in the dark sky.

“Hi, hey, why are you out here?” his smile faded when he could see you were upset.

“I had no clue where you were and you didn’t even bother to text me--” you were stopped dead on the sidewalk, the sky was a light purple and he grabbed your hand to tug you back towards the entrance.

“I’m sorry, I know, my meeting went late and the traffic was terrible, I didn’t want to bother you--”

“You said you’d be here at 7:15 and I’ve been in there by myself--”

He didn’t understand, his eyebrows dipped on his forehead in confusion and he pulled at your arm again. “I know, I’m sorry, but let’s get back in there so you can--”

“No, Harry,” you yanked your hand out of his grasp. A deep breath, a twinkling light above the horizon, a plane on final approach to LAX. “Just give me a minute.”

He sighed, looked over his shoulder to the big windows that allowed a peek into the party. He didn’t say anything, waited for you to speak when the light at the intersection across the street turned green.

“I was stupid for thinking this would be a good idea,” you said aloud, arms crossed in the parking lot. “But it’s fine, it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s obviously a big deal,” he held a hand out, gesturing to the emotion in your voice. “I fucked up, I get that. I’m sorry--but I tried to call you and tell you I was going to be late, something’s wrong with my phone.”

Happy couples strolled out of the restaurant, arms linked with to-go boxes in hand. The air was still warm, streetlights illuminated the wrinkle in his forehead when he took a step forward. “Is this about more than the party?”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed by his ability to read you and sense the real tension beneath the surface. So you lied: “No.”

“Y/N,” he said your name like he knew your words weren’t true. “What’s going on?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should break the silence that you’d both been living in for weeks. Unspoken, so far--the feelings and the sex and the uncertainty of what it meant had been woven into your life and now you were about to tug the thread and see if it unraveled.

“We’ve been kidding ourselves, Harry, don’t you think?” When he tilted his head to the side, you took it as a cue to continue. “We’ve been acting like a couple and you’ve been acting like the father of my children and we can’t do that.”

His lips parted and your heart seemed to stop when he didn’t say anything. He licked his lips, hands in his pockets when he said: “okay.”

“Okay?”

An incredulous tone in your voice put him on the defense.

“What do you want me to say?” His shoulders lifted to his ears, a shake of his head when he dropped your gaze. “Living with you and spending time with the girls has been the greatest thing I’ve had all year, I mean that. But it’s your house, they’re your children. It’s your family.”

He was right, but it didn’t mean the words didn’t sting like salt in a wound when he asked: “Do you want me to move out?”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

He scoffed, upset or bothered or maybe both. “I was never trying to overstep any boundaries.”

“I know you weren’t,” you said quickly. “That’s the problem, all of this happened so naturally and you fit into our lives so well and the girls fell in love with you and I--”

You cut yourself off, clamped your mouth together as if the words would pry their way out.

“You what?”

“I don’t want them to get hurt again.”

He pointed a finger to his chest, anger on his face. “By me? You think I would do something to hurt them?”

“Not intentionally, Harry,” you let your arms flail against your sides. “But that doesn’t mean that you won’t. Their dad left, their grandfather died, and then you moved in and suddenly it’s like you’re the missing piece they never had but that’s not realistic!”

“Why not?!” He was bothered now, more emotion in his eyes when his hands went up to run through his hair.

“Because you’re you. You’re a musician. You’re recording an album and going on tour and you’re not really able to be present. You couldn’t even show up tonight!”

“I’m not Luke,” he shook his head.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then why does it bother you that I was late? Why does that matter if I’m here now?”

“Because if you’d do it to me you’d do it to them. We don’t need to be left by another man this year.”

You didn’t mean for the words to come off so biting and harsh. He nodded slowly, chest deflated before he brought his eyes back up to you. “Fine. I can get my stuff and stay at Jeff’s.”

The shift in his demeanor felt heavy, his shoulders angled away and suddenly the magnetic pull between your chests was no longer there, like the thread had been snipped altogether and your words had been the scissors.

“I--I’m not trying to be a dick.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I understand.”

“I just don’t want them to get hurt.”

“Or do you not want to get hurt?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Forget it,” he said, a few steps towards you when his face softened. “Tell everyone I say hi. I’ll go get my things before the girls are home and I’ll be out of your hair.”

He let his arm snake around your waist, a kiss to the side of your head before you could stop him--not that you would have.

He left you there in the parking lot, alone again for the third time this year, walked out on and deserted when your eyes welled with tears. You turned on your heels to head inside, hoping that Tristan had kept things together and hoping that the champagne was still flowing.

Jeff found you first, hand on your elbow when he spotted you in the hallway near the bathroom, mascara on your cheeks when you tried to soak up tears with a folded napkin. “Hey--where have you been?”

“Harry’s moving out,” you said it quickly. “He’s going to--uh--he’ll stay at your place, I think, for now.”

He looked over his shoulder and back at the gathering behind you. “Is he here?”

“I found him in the parking lot--he left, though.”

“What happened?”

Where did you start? When was the line crossed? Was it when he started playing with the girls in the backyard? Was it when he carried CeCe up to her bed after Maeve’s sleepover? Or was it all the way back when he came to your birthday party and kissed you at the top of the stairs in an empty house?

“Nothing, it’s just time for him to move out,” you shook your head, embarrassed by the emotion streaming down your cheeks. You tried to laugh it off, shook your head and blotted your face again. Now wasn’t the time for this conversation and it certainly wasn’t the time for the tears.

“Y/N, stop. You’re letting him walk out of your life just like that?”

You looked up at him, thrown off by his question. “You don’t even know what happened. I’m fine, it’s all fine.”

“No--I don’t know, but I also know that I’ve never seen you as happy as you are with him and the girls.”

“He’s twenty-four, Jeff.”

“So what? That’s going to stop you from doing what’s right for you?”

“How is it right for me? He can’t be the type of person that Maeve and CeCe need.”

“Can he actually not be, or is the age thing getting in the way?”

“I can’t talk to you about this right now,” you pulled away from him, bothered by his strong opinions and his know-it-all attitude. Some things never changed.

“Don’t ruin something good just because you don’t know how it will end.”

You gave him the finger as you walked away, forced out a laugh and tried to flip the switch: happy, grateful, excited and ready for another glass of champagne.

He dropped it then, you left him with no choice but to follow you back out to the party. He ate mini cheesecakes before the crowd started to disperse and drove you home, a kiss on the cheek before you climbed out. Call me in the morning, he said. Translation: I hope you change your mind overnight.

Harry’s car was gone, and if you had to guess, the bed upstairs was made and the drawers were empty. His keys weren’t on the hook by the back door and when Shelli dropped off the girls and they raced inside, Maeve’s face fell.

“Where’s Harry?”

“Oh,” you hadn’t thought this far ahead, still numb from the whiplash of emotions. “He’s at Uncle Jeff’s--he’s gonna stay there from now on, I think.”

“Wait, so he moved out?”

“Harry’s gone?” CeCe asked.

“Not forever, no, no--he’s just not going to live here.”

“Why not?”

“He has to work,” you spit out quickly. “He’s busy.” What were you supposed to tell them? Mommy’s an idiot.

“Why does that mean he can’t live here?”

“Because he just can’t,” you said, a sigh when you knew the answer wasn’t good enough for Maeve. She must have sensed the emotion in your voice, though, because she didn’t push it.

“Can you bring your sister upstairs and start getting ready for bed, please?”

Shelli was at the island, quiet and observant when Maeve let out a reluctant sigh but ushered CeCe forward. They climbed in silence, and when the faucet was turned on, all bets were off.

“What on earth happened?”

“He can’t stay here, Shelli. We can’t do whatever it was we were doing.”

“Which was...”

“Pretending that he was their dad or something and me pretending that sleeping with him was normal.”

“And where does being happy factor into this nonsense equation?”

“It doesn’t.” You busied yourself at the sink, grabbed for the sponge and wiped invisible crumbs from the granite to keep your hands busy. “After Luke and my dad, I was just stupid, okay? It was poor judgment.”

She set her purse down on a stool and watched you closely. “Why does your happiness always come last, Y/N?”

“Because! My happiness doesn’t matter if the decision is stupid. Me plus Harry just doesn’t make sense!” You whispered at her, voice wrought with emotion. “He’s so young and busy and he’s in the industry and--”

“Is that what this is about?”

“Which part?”

“The industry, him being a musician.”

You waved her off like she wasn’t sniffing the truth out of you with ease. “It’s just a piece of it.”

“Y/N, just because your parents’ marriage didn’t work doesn’t mean you’re destined for the same future.”

You stopped wiping at that. “Really? Cause I’m thirty-two and already divorced.”

“But that’s because Luke is an asshole,” she reasoned, “not because of you or the girls.”

A sigh from between your lips, fervent wiping again with the tough side of the sponge, you were sure you felt something sticky. “Well, I doubt Harry would ever be the kind to settle down. That’s unrealistic. He’s famous and busy and he probably is sick of being on carpool duty anyway--probably wants to get back to snorting cocaine off of someone’s tits.”

She let out a quick laugh, shook her head. “You are really in love with him, aren’t you?”

“No,” you looked up at her again and then back at the counter. “I’m just being honest.”

“I don’t think he was ever snorting cocaine off of anyone’s anything. I might not know him as well as Jeffrey does, but, he seems pretty happy here with you three.”

“The girls loved having him here,” you said the thought aloud, it escaped into the air before you could realize Shelli didn’t need anymore ammunition.

“And did you?”

“I mean, I don’t know,” you moved back to the sink, wrung out the sponge and then turned to face her. “It was nice, I guess.”

“Well, then I guess that makes four.”

“Four what?”

“Four people who were all happy with the way things were going. Before you went and turned it upside down out of fear.”

“Okay,” you held up your hands, hoping to end the conversation. It was too late and you were tired--the final glass of champagne had your eyes heavy in the passenger seat of Jeff’s car. “I need to sleep.”

She let out a sigh and picked up her purse, moved around the counter to come and wrap her arms around you. “Don’t let your past ruin your future.”

“Goodnight,” you said sweetly, hoping that your tone would usher her out of the house and into her car, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

She laughed, called over her shoulder when she made her way for the door. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

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[veliseraptor]

Hey just wondering, do you have any draft or work in process or any plan for your next Loki fic? If so can you give us a little sneak peek. Or if you don’t, do you think you’ll write more about him in the future? I know you probably get this a lot and I’m sorry if it’s annoying or if it sounds rude or anything. I’m just wondering and also I’ve been binge reading your stories about him and got addicted so there’s that. But seriously I’m sorry if my message comes off as rude or annoying, that’s not my intention. Anyway hope you’re having an amazing day

I genuinely hate to sound like a broken record, anon, since you are being very polite about this! Which I very much appreciate! But the answer remains more or less the same: I don’t know. I have (counts) 38 different Loki-related WIPs in various stages of completion sitting on my hard drive. I haven’t been working on them actively lately because, to the dismay I’m sure of many of my followers, another fandom has devoured me whole. I’m really enjoying the experience, but it has left me with relatively little brainspace for things that aren’t that thing (or, I guess, other danmei novels and adaptations thereof?? idk okay). 

At some point I would like to finish at least some of those stories, because I do not like leaving things unfinished. But I just don’t know when - or if! - I will. It just depends on if I get that emotional investment back. At the moment it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen imminently, but who knows. And maybe I’ll go back and reread what I have written of some of these, go “where’s the rest, op” and feel encouraged to write more.

All that being said - since you were so nice about this, I will give you a (3000 word) excerpt from one of the WIPs - Dead Superheroes Walking, which is the one about the characters who died/were dusted in Infinity War on a road trip through the Soul Stone.

---

“Anyone for a game of twenty questions?” Sam asked, after they’d been walking for maybe ten minutes.

“Really?” Bucky said. “Twenty questions?”

“I don’t think ‘I Spy’ would work too well. Not a lot of interesting landmarks. Or hadn’t you noticed that the landscape keeps repeating?”

“I am Groot,” said Groot.

“And I have no idea what that means,” Sam said.

Sam was right, Wanda realized. The landscape was repeating. It wasn’t obvious, at first, but there was only one tree, over and over; only one rock placed near to it. The sky was a flat and even orange.

A faint shiver ran down Wanda’s spine. Bucky stopped, though, visibly disconcerted.

“What the hell is this place,” he said.

“Does it matter?” Sam asked. “We’re not exactly going anywhere else. All right, I’ve got it. Twenty questions, yes or no answers only.”

“I am Groot?” said Groot. Sam eyed him.

“I’m not going to take that off the count,” he said.

“Is it alive?” T’Challa asked.

“Yep,” Sam said.

“Guess that rules us out,” Bucky said. Sam snorted, and T’Challa cracked a small smile. Wanda stared down at a small, triangular rock in front of her feet.

“All right,” Bucky said. “Is it an animal?”

“Yes. Two questions down. Wanda?”

She bent down and picked up the rock. It left red dust on her fingers, and when she pressed her fingers together it crumbled like chalk. She half expected the dust to vanish, but the red stain on her fingertips stayed.

“Wanda?” Sam said, more gently.

“Sorry,” she said. “Is it a person?”

“Nope,” Sam said. “That’s three.”

She wiped her hand off on her clothes. This place wasn’t right - she could feel it in her bones, deep down where her magic ought to be. But nothing had been right in the last few days. Very few things in Wanda’s life had been right. Why should her death be any different?

It only seemed unfair that the others should be here, too.

They sky did not change, but they stopped walking eventually - less because any of them were actually tired than because it seemed like they should. Or maybe because they were tired of walking and wanted some change, even if there was very little change to be had. The road went on. The landscape didn’t alter.

And no one else appeared.

“It can’t just be us,” Sam said. “Other people died. Where are they?”

Nobody had an answer for him, unless the tree’s “I am Groot” was an answer none of them could understand. Wanda thought it might be something to do with the fact that they’d all died when Thanos had snapped his fingers, but she stayed quiet, staring off at the horizon and only half listening to Bucky and Sam going back and forth at each other.

“I see something,” T’Challa said abruptly. They all turned and followed the line of his arm.

“I can’t see anything,” Sam said.

“Give it a sec,” Bucky said. “He’s probably got a hundred extra yards visibility on me. Maybe 150 on you–”

“I am Groot,” Groot said. Wanda strained her eyes, some part of her wishing - hoping–

“Is that a dog?” Sam said.

A moment later Wanda saw it too, and slumped. It did look like a dog padding towards them - or at least, it certainly wasn’t a person.

“That’s not a dog,” T’Challa said.

“Fox, I think,” Bucky said. “What the fuck is a fox doing here?”

“I don’t think it’s a fox, either,” T’Challa said. He shifted, like he was thinking about getting into a fighting stance. Wanda stepped forward, reaching for her powers, but nothing was there.

What would be the point, anyway? You can only die once.

The fox - and it was a fox, Wanda could see that now, though black instead of red - slowed as it began to draw closer. It sat down, still a ways away, and cocked its head, looking at them.

“This is weird,” Sam said. T’Challa was still frowning.

“What is it?” Bucky asked him. T’Challa shook his head.

“I’m not certain.”

The fox stood, stretched, and changed, unfolding into a person. Wanda sucked in a breath, staring at the man now walking toward them: dark-haired, pale, lean and taller than Bucky or T’Challa. A vague sense of familiarity nagged at her, but she couldn’t say from where.

The man stopped, still several paces from them, and cocked his head just as the fox had. “Well,” he said, a faint rasp in his voice. “This is new.”

Wanda stared at him, trying to remember where she recognized him from. “New?”

“Yes,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else. But then, this time is different.”

“Wait,” Sam said abruptly. “Shit. Are you-”

“Mm,” he said, still looking at Wanda. T’Challa’s eyes were narrowed, too, and Sam’s. Bucky looked blankly at them both.

“What?”

“It’s always nice to be recognized,” the stranger said dryly.

“Loki,” Sam said. “That’s fucking Loki. Right?” Wanda’s eyes widened, but he - Loki - just shrugged one shoulder.

“So I am. Or was. I’m not certain of the appropriate tense.” His gaze swept across them, indifferent, disinterested.

“You’re dead, too,” Wanda said. Loki glanced at her, eyes focusing briefly before they slid back into dullness. No, exhaustion.

“Or something,” he said.

“‘Or something?’” Sam said. Loki’s eyes flicked in his direction.

“This doesn’t feel like death,” he said, “but I remember the feeling of my neck breaking in Thanos’s hand fairly clearly, so…” Wanda flinched, and she thought she saw Sam’s eye twitch. She remembered Thor coming roaring down from the sky, thunder and lightning in his voice, and understood. She looked down.

“What do you mean that this doesn’t feel like death,” T’Challa said into the silence.

“I know a little of what death tastes like,” Loki said after a moment. “This isn’t it.”

“What does that mean,” Bucky said, looking agitated and uncertain.

“I am Groot,” said Groot, and Loki glanced at him, something briefly flashing across his expression before it was gone. Pain, Wanda thought.

“Not entirely accurate,” he said, “but not entirely inaccurate, either.” There was a brief pause.

“You can understand him?” Bucky said. Loki shrugged again. “What did he say?”

“It’s irrelevant.” Loki’s eyes moved back to Wanda. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that you were simply the high cost of victory?” Wanda looked down, somehow feeling ashamed of her failure. Loki let out a quiet huff. “Pity.”

Bucky, oddly, snorted.

“Thanos gained all of the Infinity Stones,” T’Challa said. “Then…” He trailed off. “I am not entirely certain what happened then.”

Loki made a sort of hm noise, glancing at T’Challa sidelong. “So you didn’t die in battle,” he said.

“If so, I do not remember it,” T’Challa said.

“I am Groot,” Groot said to Loki, whose head swiveled violently toward him, eyes sharpening.

“Gamora,” he said, and there was a wealth of hatred and fear in that word. “You are a companion of hers?”

“I am Groot,” Groot said emphatically, and Loki blinked, then pressed his lips together and exhaled in a short burst.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

“Can you maybe translate what he’s saying,” Bucky said irritably. “Since all the rest of us can hear is the same three words over and over.”

“He says that Gamora claimed Thanos meant to use the completed Gauntlet to halve all life in the universe,” Loki said. “If you know that he achieved his goal, then presumably you were part of the unlucky half. Though that does not explain why you are here. Or else does not explain why I am.”

“And who’s Gamora,” Sam said, with such exaggerated patience that it demonstrated anything but.

“An old acquaintance,” Loki said. He sounded distracted.

“I am Groot,” Groot said, and this time Wanda could hear the near pride in his voice. Loki didn’t respond. He was scanning their number again, Wanda realized, more closely.

She bit her lip, then raised her voice and said, “Thor’s alive.” His gaze snapped to her, and she made herself hold it though her instinct was to look down. “At least, he was when I...he drove an axe into Thanos’s chest. It didn’t work, it was too late, but…” She trailed off.

Loki glanced down, his eyes half closing, and Wanda thought she caught a brief flicker at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile, and a barely audible, “ah, Thor.” Then his eyes were back on hers and he said simply, “thank you for informing me,” with a lack of feeling that made Wanda frown.

“You haven’t asked who any of us are,” Bucky said.

“So I have not,” Loki said. “I am not certain it is precisely relevant.”

“Excuse you,” Sam said. Loki glanced at him, that tired indifference returning.

“I approached because I was curious. I wasn’t intending to stay, nor would I think you were inclined to encourage it.”

T’Challa was studying Loki with curious intensity. “Were you going somewhere?”

“No,” Loki said, and then paused and adjusted, “perhaps.”

“I am Groot?” Groot said, and Loki’s lips pressed briefly together.

“It means perhaps. And don’t be crude.”

“I’m with him,” Sam said. “What does perhaps mean?” Loki looked briefly annoyed, and Sam said, “come on. We’re all dead here. Or - not. Which still begs the question as far as I’m concerned of what we are.”

Loki’s eyes went back to her, and Wanda shifted. “What?” She asked. “Why do you keep looking at me?”

“You haven’t noticed anything strange, then?” He asked. “Felt anything?”

Too many things, Wanda thought, but she didn’t think that was what he meant, and now they were all looking at her. Wanda hesitated.

“I don’t have my powers,” she said slowly. Loki made a derisive noise.

“Of course you don’t,” he said. “Do you need them to sense what’s around you? Midgardian magicians. Norns.”

Wanda glared at him, but took a breath and tried to turn inward, like she was going to use her power. It still wasn’t there, but this time, without distractions…

She jerked and saw a satisfied glint in Loki’s eyes, just for an instant. “There,” he said.

“Wanda, what is it?” Sam asked, looking suspiciously at Loki.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But it feels like…” She searched for the right words. “Like a heartbeat,” she said finally, even if that wasn’t quite right.

Bucky’s expression was a mixture of horror and alarm. “A heartbeat?”

“So that’s what it feels like to you,” Loki said thoughtfully. He seemed more engaged now than he had been at first, and somehow even though it shouldn’t matter that felt like a good thing. Maybe because nothing else was.

“It’s not actually,” Wanda said quickly. “That’s just sort of what it feels like - to me, anyway. It’s...different for you?”

Loki shrugged. T’Challa shifted.

“I know what she means,” he said. “Though I wouldn’t have described it like that. But there is...something.”

“Interesting,” Loki said, glancing at T’Challa and looking him over with slightly more interest. “To answer your implied question, I would call it a...resonance.”

“A resonance with what,” Sam asked.

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be bothering to talk to you,” Loki said. “But partly it is that which makes me think this is something other than simple death.”

“What is there other than ‘simple death,’” Bucky said tightly.

“That is the question, isn’t it,” Loki said. “Maybe nothing. Maybe I am wrong. But if I am not…”

“If you’re not, what,” Bucky said, even tighter.

“Then it begs the question of why, doesn’t it?” Loki rolled his neck in a slow circle, and Wanda could have sworn she heard something crack. “At least, such was my thought. But maybe it is just desperation.”

He didn’t sound desperate. He didn’t sound much of anything.

“Why not stay with us,” Wanda said abruptly. Everyone else turned to stare at her, Loki included, and she straightened, turning toward her friends. “I mean it,” she said. “Why not? We’re all here together. And if he’s right and there’s a why, a reason...wouldn’t it suggest that’s true for all of us, including him?” She paused, and added, “and besides - what can he do to us, anyway?”

Loki barked a laugh. “That is a fair point,” he murmured.

“How do we know this isn’t some kind of trick?” T’Challa asked, his eyes narrowed.

“You don’t,” Loki said. “But I will say that you vastly overestimate my interest in you. Well, the majority of you. And your witch has a point: what is it you think I will do?”

“I don’t know,” T’Challa said. “That’s what worries me.”

“And ‘our witch’ has a name,” Sam said a little sourly.

Loki shrugged. “As you will. It makes little difference to me.” He moved around them and started to walk away.

“I am Groot,” Groot muttered, and strode after him, long tree-legs catching up in a few strides. “I am Groot?” He said to Loki, who checked himself and looked at him, his face tightening.

“Was, yes,” he said. “Why?”

“I am Groot,” Groot said definitively, and Loki shook his head.

“Call back your child,” he said, with a sharp gesture at Groot.

“Child?” Sam said, eyebrows shooting up.

“He’s an adolescent Flora Colossus,” Loki said, as though it were obvious. “And he is not following me. I don’t care who you were friends with.”

Thor, Wanda thought. Groot didn’t know any of them, but he’d known Thor, at least a little, and Loki was Thor’s brother, and Groot was, apparently, a teenager, among strangers who couldn’t understand him, who had just died.

Wanda’s chest ached. “If he wants to,” she said, “I don’t see why he shouldn’t.”

“I’m not interested in playing nursemaid–”

“I am Groot,” Groot said, and Loki gave him a hard look.

“No, you are not,” he said. “I’ve met grown Flora Colossi and you aren’t it. You’re barely more than a sapling. Maybe - what, four years old?”

“You know what,” Bucky said, “I’m with Wanda, actually. And the, uh...Groot. This place is weird. I think we should stick together, and it seems like he knows more about this place than any of the rest of us do.” His eyes settled on Loki. “And it’s not like we have a whole lot to lose, right now.”

Sam gave Bucky a long, skeptical look and then glanced at T’Challa, who shrugged.

“You assume I am interested in putting up with the lot of you,” Loki said flatly. He looked tense, Wanda thought. Like he was expecting some kind of trap. Wanda tried to summon a smile.

“You said you came over because you were curious,” she said. “And if you’re right, and there is some reason we’re all here...isn’t that something else to be curious about?”

“I am Groot,” said Groot, and Loki glanced at him, jaw twitching.

“I’m dead, you twig,” he said. “If not now, then probably soon. And if I did need protecting, you wouldn’t be much help.”

Bucky snorted, poorly muffled. Wanda bit her lip so she didn’t smile. Groot’s expression was hard for her to read, but it looked to her eyes like a glare.

Loki exhaled loudly and looked away. “Fine,” he said. “If you are inclined...I suppose there’s no harm in traveling adjacently.”

“Traveling where?” Sam asked. “You make it sound like you have an actual destination.”

“I have a...feeling,” Loki said, though something about the brief pause before he spoke made Wanda think there was something he wasn’t saying. The question was if it was important or not. “No more than that.”

“Well,” T’Challa said after a few moments of hesitation, “that is more than I have, at the moment. And so far as I know we weren’t going anywhere in particular, so…”

“I guess that settles it,” Wanda said. Loki eyed her like he suspected her of having some ulterior motive. She decided to pretend not to notice. “So which way are we going?”

[another-stark-sub]

Maybe Marriage, Maybe Baby Carriage - Tony Stark Imagine

Summary: A normal day for you and Tony takes a turn when you find blueprints for some jewelry

Warnings: no actual sex, goes from fluff/emotions to slightly smutty/lime-y territory, mentions of lingerie, marriage, and breeding kink

Word Count: 1603 write only 500 words i thought i have hw i thought but nooooooo my god my poor grades

Your laptop was open on your lap, and you were on your boyfriend’s lap. Or, well, between his legs. It was just a natural thing to do when you were working late, and he wasn’t. Even though the two of you have been together for years, having Tony surround you was still as comforting as it was the first time. 

Usually, he would be watching videos, reviewing holograms, or just spending his time on instagram, keeping up his account as an Avenger and public figure. But, that time, as you were writing up plans for the next week, Tony wasn’t doing anything. So as you mumbled things you had to do, Tony’s rough and calloused fingers ran up and down your sides, arms, and thighs, gently and slowly. 

It wasn’t until you felt his gaze linger so long on your face that you smiled, and without looking up from your laptop, you asked teasingly, “You have pictures, Tony.”

“That I do.” He leaned down to kiss your cheek, and his lips brushed against your ear as he said, “Love that last picture you sent me, by the way.”

You laughed, the heat crawling up your neck and settling in your cheeks, before elbowing him in the side. “Look at those, then.” You went back to your laptop, and only realized your mistake when his lips gently met your neck and he said, “Careful what you ask for, sweetheart.” One of his hands trailed down to the top of your thigh, and before Tony could do anything you grabbed his wrist. “I have wo-”

His other hand rose to view a hologram. Your not-so-work-appropriate picture flashed before you for a second. You yelped and swiped the hologram away. “Tony!” you laughed.

Your boyfriend only bit his lip to hide a mischievous smile. Because just as the first picture disappeared, Tony brought up another picture. “Look at that!”

“Stop it!” You closed your lap and put that down. 

You closed the second picture, only for Tony to hug you to his chest, restricting your arms and hands. “No,” you whined. “Not the pictures!”

“What pictures?”

You struggled against his hold with the biggest smile on your face. “Tony-”

“Oh, these?” With a simple flick of his finger, holographic pictures of you, in lingerie, from that magazine shoot, in sweatpants and his MIT shirt, from last year’s Holiday Gala, blueprints for jewelry, in a four-piece suit, in an Iron Man-

Wait, was that jewelry?

Tony stiffened beneath you, and his grip on you loosened enough, that you were able to comfortably lay on his chest and search for those blueprints you saw. Why were there blueprints in this folder?

“On second thought, what about that TIME shoot?” Tony dismissed all the pictures, and one by one, they disappeared.

You scanned all the pictures, and just as the blueprints whizzed past you, you shot out your hand and held it from being dismissed. “Gotcha!”

“Honey-”

With two hands, you zoomed in and blew up the blueprints so you could see every detail. You read blueprints kinda like how you read. From left to right. So before seeing the whole picture, you looked in the top left corner. A drawing of many models of the arc reactor. From the original circular one to the triangular one. 

After the line of reactors was something big and circular. Fashioned out of metal from the original arc reactor and topped with a diamond. 

A diamond. Your breath caught in your throat, and tears burned in your eyes. This wasn’t a standard, life-changing invention of Tony’s. It was a ring. Blueprints for a ring. 

Immediately overwhelmed, you dismissed the blueprints.

Tony and you have been together for three years, almost four. You’ve admitted that you’ve had thoughts about marriage a few times. The first time was when he was being rushed to the med wing, and you were running by his side. 

“You can’t die on me, ok? Who am I supposed to marry then, huh?”

Even though he had been in pain, Tony Stark’s scrunched up expression softened until he was gazing at you. “Demanding bride-to-be,” he had teased. “Telling me not to die.”

The other few times were much more casual. The two of you had even talked about kids. More than half the times, Tony got off on the idea of you being pregnant with his kids. So, of course, you knew he was going to be the person you were going to marry.

It would be beautiful. Even if the two of you just went to court to sign some papers, it would be a day where you became his, and Tony Stark became yours. What a day that would be. 

“You,” Tony sighed, “weren’t supposed to see that.”

He was so tense, arms so stiff around you. Instinctively, you rubbed circles into his knuckles as you let your thoughts roam and settle. But there were so many thoughts. Of marrying Tony, of how long he had been planning this, of loving this man with all you could for all your life. 

So, instead of staying quiet, you gulped down your inhibitions and admitted, “If I were to… marry anybody.” You shrugged. “It would be you.” You didn’t have to look at him to know he was gazing down at you. You desperately wanted to see his face, but you knew that once your eyes met Tony’s, you’d cry. So, you continued, “I mean, I love you.” Your face felt so hot. How was it this hot? 

Your boyfriend opened his mouth and closed it again to gulp. His throat must’ve been dry. Even after that, he was silent for a while, too many unspoken things in the air. Suddenly, he let out a laugh. “You really weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Oh, hey.” You turned around and straddled him. He avoided your gaze, but even so, you ran your fingers through his hair and reassured him, “I didn’t see all of it.”

“You weren’t supposed to see any of it.” Dejected, he let his head drop on your chest

“I still don’t know a lot about it, Tony.” You sighed and pulled away so you could cup his cheeks and really look at him. His eyes were red-rimmed, and a few tears had escaped. “Oh, my love,” you said. “Tone, I still don’t know how you’re going to do it.” You smiled. “Or when? I mean, it could be our anniversary, my birthday, the holidays, or any other regular day you could propose. And I always knew I was going to marry you.” You wiped away one of his tears, and when he began to smile, you laughed. ‘There you are!” You threw your arms around him.

Tony welcomed the embrace, and he hung onto you like a lifeline. “I just wanted it to be perfect,” he said.

“Are you kidding me?” You kissed his neck, his cheek, and left one on his lips. “I get to be Tony Stark’s, and you get to be mine.” You pushed back his hair and let your hands rest on his shoulders. “Any day where that’s true is perfect to me.”

Your boyfriend, your future fiance, your future husband, he looked at you like you were the stars in the sky. His smile was so soft that you wanted to kiss it, but you let him realize that you weren’t going anywhere, that it wasn’t a dream, that you really did want to marry him. 

Finally, Tony’s smile sharpened into a smirk. “So that’s a yes to three kids?”

“This again?”

“Yes, this again.” His voice was so deep, and you almost forgot that this was the same man who cried because you found out his secret plan. Tony leaned in closer and placed a few open-mouthed kissed on your neck. “You’d like being full of me, wouldn’t you?”

Just like that, you were all his. His kisses were so slow, and they lingered on your skin and left heat behind. “Tony,” you sighed. 

“Greatest sign of being mine, honestly.” He breathed out, letting the air hit the place where your neck and shoulder met. “I could leave a hickey, sure.” Just like that, he sucked the skin right above the collar of your t-shirt.

“Fuck.”

He licked the newly forming hickey. “Yeah, but just fucking you?” He shook his head and lifted up your left hand. “No, I want a ring here.” He kissed your ring finger. “And-”

You smiled. “You’re insatiable.”

“You love it.” He bit his lip and looked at you, from your head to the thighs still straddling his waist. “And a part of me” -his hand traveled from your waist to your stomach- “right here.”

You gasped for air.

Tony leaned forward again, his lips coming to brush up against your ear and his chest perfectly pressing against yours. His hands found their place on your hips. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” He started kissing your neck again, his beard and mustache tickling your skin and sparking heat in your core. 

He nipped your neck in a particularly sensitive spot. “Answer me.”

“Yes!” You gulped and held his head where it was, never wanting his kisses to stop. “Yes, I want that.”

“Good.” He left your neck just to kiss you hard. Even when you moaned against him, Tony’s lips never left yours. And when he pulled away, you were dizzy. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

His hands gripped your waist, and you whimpered. Tony said, his voice dark and straight-up sinful, “Well, we better practice putting that kid inside you.”

[amanda-teaches]

Bringing the Cheer

Summary: When you’re feeling sad, your best friend, Sam, has just the plan to cheer you up. What over the top gesture does he have planned for you this time?

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Word Count: 1783

Warnings: A lot of fluff, sass, an obsession with bacon, some mentions of sad feelings that Sam chases away, some jokes at Bucky’s expense.

A/N: I’ve been stuck in some writer’s block, so I asked for inspiration,and the amazing @jamielea81​ answered the call. She mentioned wanting some Sam best friends fluff, and this fic was born. Also, this is my first time writing for Sam, so I hope I did him justice!

“What’s the story, morning glory?” Sam exclaimed, his voice dripping with an unnecessary amount of cheer as he threw open the curtains covering your window. “Rise and shine! We’ve got some fun to get to.”

You turned towards him, wanting to grumble, but the smell of freshly cooked bacon and eggs immediately changed your tone. “Did you make breakfast?”

“Yeah, I did,” he bragged, smirking down at you triumphantly. “Now, get your ass out of that bed or I’m going to eat it all.”

He was laughing as he turned and walked out the door, and you couldn’t help but laugh in return. You’d been feeling pretty down the past few days, but you’d discovered long ago that you never really could around Sam. As your best friend, he wouldn’t let you wallow in your feelings. He’d plan the silliest things to distract you, and it almost always worked. You wondered what he could possibly have up his sleeve today...

Quickly getting dressed, you felt excitement and anticipation begin to bubble inside you. Still feeling slightly lethargic from sleep, you left the room slowly, but your pace quickened as you neared the compound’s kitchen, following the strong, wafting smell of the food of the gods: bacon.

“Mmm,” you moaned, inhaling deeply at the threshold, your eyes closing in bliss. “Sam Wilson, you are a hero among men.”

He chuckled and flipped a piece of bacon high in the air before using his spatula to gesture at the full plate already waiting for you on the table, the bacon far outnumbering the eggs, just like he knew you liked it. “I think you meant to say devastatingly handsome hero among men,” he teased, looking up to toss you a cocky wink.

A smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, but you didn’t let him see it, deciding instead to tease him a little back. “Oh yeah?” you baited him, picking up a piece of bacon and slowly taking a bite, drawing your response out. “Devastatingly handsome, huh? I didn’t know Steve helped.”

“Ha ha!” he sassed, taking the towel off his shoulder and tossing it at your head. 

You ducked, laughing, before plopping down on the barstool and digging into your food. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Training exercises.” He glanced up, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “You don’t want to know what I had to do to get the morning off.”

This time you couldn’t hold back your smile, picturing Sam explaining his excuse to Steve, with Bucky making snide remarks and Nat and Wanda laughing in the background. As one of the team’s leading doctors and technical agents, you generally provided mission support from the compound, so you didn’t need to participate in training exercises, but you knew how hard it was to get out of them. “Sam, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he insisted, brushing away your concerns with a wave of his hand. “Besides, with Stark in the city, we’ve got the whole place to ourselves for a few hours, which was just the plan.”

You glanced up at him, pausing with a forkful of egg halfway to your mouth and smirking instead. “And, what exactly is this plan?”

“Oh, you’ll see. Now, stop trying to get any hints out of me and eat up! You don’t finish this, Barnes is gonna end up wanting some, and I’ll have to throw a plate at his face or something.

You laughed softly, knowing Sam would do pretty much anything other than admit he was actually starting to like Bucky, so you did what he said and finished up your breakfast.

After the plates were washed and put away, Sam surprised you by coming up behind you and slapping his hands over your eyes. “Sam! What are you doing?”

“It’s a surprise,” he reiterated, emphasizing the last word and turning you to face what you knew was the doorway to the outside. You stumbled slightly against him as he started to walk forward, his hands still over your eyes, but he held you securely against him, guiding your steps.

As you walked, your pulse began to quicken, feeling his solid body beneath yours, and you took a deep breath, trying to will your heart rate back down. Sam was your best friend, but that never stopped the physical reaction that ignited every time he was close to you. What was worse was that the attraction had been steadily growing into something much more than just physical, but you’d never let him know that.

After a few more steps, he stopped, bringing you to a halt along with him. You could feel his chest exhale against your back, and he adjusted his stance slightly, making you feel restless. You were about to say something, but he removed his hands before you could, revealing a giant Slip ‘N Slide stretching across a good portion of the open grass space behind the compound.

Your eyes widened in surprise and glee, and his hands dropped to your shoulders. You could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke next. “Ready for some summer fun?”

“Oh, yes!” you yelled, the freedom in your voice ringing out as you broke out of his hold and away from all of the negativity that had been surrounding you. You rushed to the start of the slide, and you could hear Sam yell out, “Wait, I brought your swimsuit!” But, it was too late, you were already sliding down, belly flopping head first in your t-shirt and jeans.

You screamed, the sound full of joy, as you cascaded down the slide, water spraying in arches above you. Sam followed close behind you, shouting “Geronimo!” before jumping in, joining you on the wet ride. When you made it to the end, the two of you ran back to the beginning, alternating between going down solo and as a pair, hands clasped, having the time of your life.

It took barely even an hour before you were too tired to go on, collapsing on the grass beside the Slip ‘N Slide for a break. Sam grabbed two towels before settling down next to you, resting on his elbows with his legs stretched out in front of him.

You laid down next to him, matching his pose before turning to take in his profile. “Thanks, Sam. I needed this.”

He grinned at you. “Oh, it’s not over yet.” With a knowing wink, he pressed a button on his watch, and, moments later, you heard a whirring sound. In the blink of an eye, a familiar red, triangular-looking drone appeared in front of the both of you, with two refreshing drinks perched on top of it.

“Oh, my, God, you are not using Redwing as your personal bartender! Tony’s gonna kill you!”

“Only if he finds out,” Sam smirked, jumping up to grab the drinks. He handed one to you before sitting back down, cross legged on the grass beside you. “Thank you, Redwing.”

He gave you a pointed look, and you laughed, shaking your head and turning to the drone. “Thank you, Redwing.”

You doubted he could’ve smiled any wider, pressing the button on his watch to send Redwing away. While his attention was diverted, you took the chance to surreptitiously watch him. He was starting to dry off, but his t-shirt still stuck to his chest, highlighting the lines of his muscles underneath. His brown eyes looked even richer in the sunlight, shining above the goatee he’d begun to let grow into a full beard.

“Good thing your watch is waterproof,” you observed out loud, trying to distract yourself from staring at him any longer.

“Yeah,” he laughed, looking down at it absentmindedly. “You know, I should’ve expected you to do this fully clothed. I don’t know why I even bothered bringing the swimsuits.”

“Yeah, you know me,” you joked, but it was only when you caught the look in his eyes that you felt the weight behind your words. “You do know me, Sam. You’re the only person in my life who really does, who would’ve thought of doing this.” You gestured at the yards-long slide covering the yard. “All this, just to cheer me up.”

He scooted closer to you, crouching onto his ankles to kneel in front of you. “I’d do just about anything to cheer you up. I’d even let you watch Cap lap me a few hundred times.”

You chuckled, about to roll your eyes, but the touch of his hand to your cheek had you drawing in a sharp intake of breath instead. His eyes searched yours, silently looking for any signs you wanted him to move away, but what you wanted was just the opposite. “Sam, your friendship is so important to me, and I’ve never wanted to do anything to risk that, so if I’m totally misreading this, just tell me I’m being an idiot, and we’ll never talk about it again, but I...really want to kiss you right now.”

He smiled, soft and slow. “Well, that just makes it easier for me to tell you I really want to kiss you pretty much every damn day.”

His lips were on yours before you could really process the words he was returning to you, but his touch made it clear. It was something you’d craved for so long, and it felt like coming out of the fog, clear and bright. Smiling against him, you linked your arms behind his neck and pulled him closer.

The kiss was lingering and lazy, but you still wanted more, sighing when he pulled away. “So…”

“So,” he echoed casually, running his fingers idly up and down your arm, driving you to distraction. You knew that while he looked unaffected, he was far from it, his breathing still coming out labored and heavy.

“Are we really doing this?”

A split second of panic flashed through his eyes. “Do you still want to?”

You stared at him for a moment, wondering if your friendship was worth risking if this didn’t work out, but, in your heart, you had no doubts. “More than anything.”

His eyes closed, the relief on his face as evident as his grin was wide. “Oh, thank God. I thought you were going to say no, and, for a second there, I was about to fake a heart attack or something just to get out of here.”

“Oh, shut up,” you laughed, pulling him in for another kiss. “Now, come on, let’s figure out a way to camouflage this slide so Bucky slips on it.”

“That’s my girl,” he whooped, jumping up to run back to the house, his hand never leaving yours.

[theshatteredrose]

Relic Keepers: Awakening of the Red Lily (Chapter 17) - Original Fiction

AN: Since I’ve decided that this year I’m going full force into self-indulgence with my writing, future chapters are going to be fun :3c Anyway, please enjoy~

Ao3 | Wattpad | Inkitt | FictionPress

~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 17:

Eishirou glanced around at the darkness around them nervously. Yet, no matter where he looked or how hard he squinted, he couldn’t see a thing. He hadn’t realised how dark night could be. He truly could not see a thing beyond the campfire’s glow.

From the incoherent grumbling heard from Zayne, it was safe to assume that he couldn’t see anything around them either.

It was hard to describe just how dark it truly was. There was no ambient light from the city. The sky was overcast, hiding the moon. Their only source of illumination was from the campfire. And its light could only reach so far.

They were like a ship in an endless pitch-black sea.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to camp on a peak in front of a tall white building. Though, with how dark everything was, camping anywhere in these woods would be dangerous. They were going to stand out anyway. Even in the tunnels.

“Move toward the tent,” Zayne instructed quietly.

“Ok,” Eishirou replied simply.

He turned on his heel and moved slowly so not to draw attention to himself. He pulled back the flap of the tent and looked inside. Mikiel hadn’t moved and it was probably for the best. He was worried about having to move him, though. The guy was more muscular and taller than he was.

There was no way Eishirou would be able to carry him. He wouldn’t even be able to lift him. Not a dead weight like that.

He crouched down in the opening of the tent and turned his attention outside. The only thing he could do was to wait for instructions. And be ready to either run or to heal. Maybe both at the same time. Which he hoped he wouldn’t have to do.

Be prepared for the worst but hope for the best.

Zayne quickly but quietly walked over to Leon as he slept haphazardly on the ground. He nudged him in the side with his foot. Leon snorted quietly as he startled to semi-consciousness. He blinked blearily as he turned his head toward Zayne.

“We’re surrounded,” Zayne said simply. “Wake the others.”

Leon snapped into full wakefulness in that instant. He didn’t ask any questions. He just quietly leapt to his feet and set about waking the others. As he did that, Zayne focused his attention back at the darkness around them. He paced close to where the tent was, his movements slow, his back tense. He gripped his holsters tightly, ready to summon them for battle at a moment’s notice.

Eishirou tried to suppress a wince when he heard another noise. The distinct sound of breaking of a tree limb. And it was louder than previous noises. Which meant that whoever or whatever was making all the noise was moving closer.

And they still couldn’t see a thing.

But it was pretty clear that whatever was out there could see them.

The entire Team 3 stood in a circle around the campsite. And they were silent. From what he had witnessed previously, they enjoyed sharing a quip or two while anticipating battle. But they were seriously silent. Postures tense, mana holsters fully charged, and their gazes focused entirely on the darkness around them.

Man, he really hated the stifling silence and anticipation that hung in the air.

He’d say ‘just get it over with’ but he’d prefer the ShadowDwellers just leaving them alone. Though, that was highly unlikely.

A loud crack suddenly resounded through the silence. That sound was that of a felled tree. And it was close. Tatsu, the Elite closest to the sound, immediately whipped around and raised his mana guns. He fired two shots into the darkness, momentarily lightening up the area.

They caught a glimpse of tall shadowy creature before the light faded. A loud shriek was heard immediately afterwards, indicating that not only had the shots allowed them a glimpse into the darkness, it also took out the very creature they had seen.

One ShadowDweller down, who knows how many more.

But at least they knew what kind of ShadowDwellers they were dealing with; Scorpions. They were something Zayne and his teammates had encountered before. And those ShadowDwellers were likely to be the ones making all the noise.

And yet, that didn’t quite sit right. From their previous interactions, these ShadowDwellers didn’t care how much noise they made. They were ambush predators, sure. But they reckless. They weren’t shy about crashing into or onto the battlefield.

“Here they come,” Ernesta warned.

As soon as those words left her lips, several towering Scorpions scuttled into the light of the campfire. Pincers snapping, tails flailing, and uttering high-pitched shrieks of anger. They were agitated by something. And it was likely that they wouldn’t stop fighting until they found whatever that was.

“Remember; we must protect Eishirou and Mikiel, no matter what!” Ernesta commanded.

The team then launched themselves into battle against the ShadowDwellers.

It was always so awe-inspiring watching Elites in battle. Their movements were sleek and slick. Ernesta was rather sophisticated in her movements and motions. She retained the placid smile, even as she sliced through the ShadowDwellers with ease.

Tatsu was incredibly efficient in his attacks. His aim impeccable; never missing. Not once. Each shot was straight to the weak point. Taking out the ShadowDweller from a distance. Everything he did appeared so effortless. The smirk he wore on his lips indicated that he knew he very confident in his skills.

Leon was a brawler and seemed to enjoy the thrill of battle. He was extremely powerful, though. Just punching through the ShadowDwellers with little to no resistance. He was quite a big man, his muscles obvious and maybe even bulky. But he was quick on his feet; avoiding all attacks.

It was always so disconcerting watching Rinka engage in battle. She struck down any and every ShadowDweller in her path without mercy. Normally she was shy, quiet, and rather meek. But the moment she entered battle, she became cold, ruthless, and fierce. He wouldn’t say she had a split personality. But there were definitely two sides to her.

Zayne seemed to be a combination of all four. He was agile, strong, efficient, and brutal should he need to be. He would…adapt to the changing situation. Fall back from battle when necessary. Lunging forward with a barrage of attacks at the right time. Attacking efficiently, taking out the foe’s dangerous limbs and claws.

However, no matter what method of attack Zayne used, he never strayed too far from the tent. And ultimately from Eishirou. He always, always made sure to put himself between Eishirou and the advancing ShadowDwellers.

Eishirou still found himself instinctively ducking whenever a ShadowDweller ventured too close. They were always swiftly defeated by Zayne, but he still couldn’t prevent a grimace.

Things were getting really rowdy. And there were a lot of them.

Eishirou turned away from the sight just to snatch up his tablet and his carry bag. He lifted the strap of his back over his head and rested it on his shoulder. He best get himself ready to move. For any reason.

“This is getting ridiculous!” Leon complained. “Are they drawn to the fire? Or the tent?”

They…did seem to focus in on where the tent was located. Why, though? Were they after Mikiel? Again, why?

“Eishirou! Try opening the door!” Zayne suddenly shouted.

Eishirou blinked. To the lighthouse?

“R-right!”

He really was not in the best position to stop and ask questions. He just assumed that Zayne wanted him and Mikiel in the lighthouse for their protection. It was, after all, far sturdier than a nylon tent.

If he could open the door, that was.

Eishirou ran straight for the door, trusting Zayne to ensure that none of the ShadowDwellers followed him. He skidded to a halt in front of the stone white door and plunged his hand into his back pocket. He wrapped his hand around the white triangular object and pulled it out.

There really wasn’t time for hesitancy. Eishirou took a second to examine the small keyhole just so he could ensure he inserted the key properly.

He then slid the key into the opening.

Before he could press it all the way in, it seemed to pull itself in automatically. There was a rather telling ‘click’ when the key disappeared into the keyhole. Suddenly, a neon green light filtered out, skittering across the stone door, creating eccentric designs that Eishirou found mildly familiar.

He was unable to read any of them, however, as the light moved too quickly.

Small flakes of stone began to break away, revealing dark-grey stone underneath. And upon that was another eccentric feature.

Eight dots. Four colours. They sat on a stone grid.

It was…a puzzle?

He placed his hand against the door and attempted to search for a recording. Soon, instructions bounded around in his head.

He needed to…connect the coloured dots within the grid. Red to red. Yellow to yellow. Blue to blue. And green to green. But the paths could not touch or overlap. And he had to fill in all the squares. That was what he felt he needed to do.

Well, he had better find out whether or not he was right. And he had better do it fast!

He placed his finger on the yellow dot and then slowly traced a path that would link it to the other. As he trailed his fingertip across the stone, the grids he moved across turned yellow, too. The same occurred as he linked the other coloured dots, the grids shimmering the same colours as the dots that linked them.

It took some finicking, but Eishirou was able to find a way to link the four different colours to each other while the paths crossing.

The moment he linked the last colour, the stone door unexpectedly trembled. A grinding noise was heard as the tremors grew in ferocity.

The door then shuddered to the side, grinding loudly as it slid on an unseen track.

It opened…?

Eishirou spun around and immediately searched for Zayne amongst the chaos. “It’s open!”

“Good!” Despite the distance between them, Eishirou could see that Zayne wore a half smile of satisfaction. “Leon, get Mikiel and take him inside!”

Leon was momentarily startled by the response. “R-right!” But he didn’t argue. He spun on his heel and immediately raced over to the tent. It took a few frustrating moments to get through the tent and to Mikiel. And then to heft him onto his shoulder.

Thankfully, Leon’s physical strength was exceptional. He was able to get Mikiel over his shoulder and keep him there with a single arm. As soon as Leon got Mikiel out of the tent, a ShadowDweller suddenly appeared and trampled it.

Eishirou smothered a wince. He was glad he had the foresight to gather his own belongings from the tent before that happened. And, of course, he was thankful he wasn’t inside!

He stepped to the side as Leon darted past him and into the lighthouse. Leon stopped a couple of feet inside and did a quick surveillance of the area. When he lowered himself to his knees and lifted Mikiel off of his shoulder, Eishirou assumed that the coast was clear.

So, he made his way inside, too. And over to where Leon had lowered Mikiel to the floor. He attempted to help him, though all he could really do was to cradle Mikiel’s head as Leon laid him down on the floor.

Ugh, he was right. There was no way he’d be able to lift Mikiel by himself!

“Be right back,” Leon said simply as he jumped to his feet and darted back outside.

Eishirou rested Mikiel’s head on his lap and offered him a small bit of healing. It was pitch-black inside. The only source of light was from the campfire.

“There. They’re in a safer location,” Zayne stated.

“Very well,” Ernesta was heard uttering in return. “We must ensure that no ShadowDweller enters the lighthouse.”

He couldn’t see anything around him. He couldn’t tell how big the room was. He could barely see anything that was occurring outside. Just fleeting images of Elites as they darted past.

He could hear all sorts of noises outside, though. The shrieking of ShadowDwellers. The utters of satisfaction or annoyance from Elites. And, of course, the sounds of battle. It was quite unnerving being able to hear everything but unable to see anything.

As unnerving as that was, the sudden silence that fell over the battlefield was frightening.

Eishirou subconsciously held his breath as he stared out the door. He jumped when a figure suddenly stepped in the threshold of the door.

However, he breathed a sigh of relief when he recognised Zayne. “Are they gone?”

Zayne nodded his head as he walked over to stand next to him. To stand guard over him once more. “We’ve defeated them. For now.”

The other members of his team soon entered the lighthouse, too. All of them without injuries. Though, they all appeared rather irritated. Perhaps even baffled.

“I knew we were too out in the open,” Tatsu immediately griped, his usual stoic façade lifting for a moment.

Ernesta uttered a frustrated sigh as she folded her arms across her abdomen. Instead of responding to Tatsu’s comment, she turned and levelled him with a pointed stare. “Help Rinka to bring our belongings inside, too. Make sure you bring lanterns.”

Tatsu’s right eye gave a telling twitch. He, however, did not respond. He simply turned on his heel and stalked out of the lighthouse with Rinka right behind him.

Leon moved forward and unexpectedly crouched down by Mikiel’s side. “How’s he doing?”

Eishirou briefly wondered if Mikiel was a close friend of his as he seemed to be the one who was constantly hovering over him. Instead of prying, he decided the best thing he could was to be honest. Not overly honest, mind. Just…honest enough. If that made sense.

“He’s stable,” Eishirou finally replied. “Unfortunately, he’s fallen into a coma.”

Leon looked over at him. Though he tried to hide it, he was obviously concerned. “That’s bad, right?”

Eishirou tried to give him some reassurance. “Depends. He’s not suffering. It might be his body’s attempt to heal itself.”

That seemed to offer Leon some comfort as he nodded his head idly as his gaze shifted back toward Mikiel. He only lifted his head when Tatsu and Rinka returned with their camping gear. He pushed himself to his feet to take hold of the sleeping bag and then laid it down on the ground next to where Mikiel lay.

Eishirou once again helped Leon to rest Mikiel onto the sleeping bag. While he was unlike to feel anything, being unconscious and all, they still wanted to ensure that he was comfortable. Lying on the cold, hard ground was never pleasant.

As Eishirou checked on Mikiel’s health, the Elites set about setting up bright lanterns around them. The room soon began to brighten, allowing for Eishirou to view their new surroundings.

The interior was expected of that of a lighthouse; a spiralling staircase that was attached to the interior wall and spiralled upwards. The light could only reach so far, so it appeared as if the staircase just disappeared into a dark void. The room that they occupied was likely that of a foyer. Yet, other than a couple of antique tables, there was no other furniture.

“I thought entry into the lighthouse was impossible?” Tatsu suddenly commented. It was framed as a question, but it felt more like an accusation.

Zayne must have felt that way, too, as he turned to send scowl in Tatsu’s direction. “We didn’t say that. Eishirou just needed to do more research.”

That…was half true.

Ernesta turned her attention toward Eishirou and raised a curious eyebrow. “How did you open the door?”

They were suspicious of him. He couldn’t blame them. And in honesty, he was a little…cautious of them in return. Especially of Tatsu. That guy made no attempt to hide his distain for him. And it was hard to read Ernesta at the best of times.

“There was a puzzle that needed to be solved before the door could open,” Eishirou answered simply. He would have to explain more later. But right now, they just needed the quick facts.

That seemed to satisfy Ernesta for now. Though, he doubted Tatsu was satisfied with the answer.

Eishirou resisted the urge to sigh as he reached into his bag and pulled out his communicator. Instead of contacting anyone, he checked the time. And this time he did breathe a sigh. A sigh of relief.

Sunrise was only a couple more hours away.

“Wh-what’s up there?” Rinka suddenly asked as she pointed to the dark void that the stairs disappeared into.

Zayne shrugged casually. “Who knows,” he said simply before he reached down and grabbed EIshirou by the elbow. With a slight tug, he urged him to his feet. “Since we’re here, let’s have a look.”

Eishirou allowed Zayne to help him to his feet. They had a few hours before they had to plan their evacuation. He also couldn’t help but wonder if the ShadowDwellers actually want to get inside, too. He wasn’t sure why he thought of that possibility, but it was quite clear that the ShadowDwellers were agitated and after something.

“Rinka, I need you to stay here,” Ernesta ordered.

Rinka immediately pouted, which was rather unexpected. But it was actually kinda nice to see. She was curious, interested in learning things for herself.

But orders were orders. So, Eishirou sent Rinka an apologetic smile.

“We’ll be quick,” he promised as he followed Zayne to the stairs.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer Chapter 11: Ouroboros

The door vanished. The cavern returned to darkness, the only glow coming from the egg that contained the thrashing dragon. My fate was sealed. Hanging my head, I burst into tears. All the emotion I'd held back since I left Cassell came pouring out of me. “I don’t want to die…” I wailed.

The dragon egg splintered with a loud pop. The dragon had kicked its hindlegs and was forcing its way out, fluid pouring out from the cracks. It was staring at me through the translucent shell. It was brilliant blue, about the size of a horse with bright yellow eyes and wings for arms. Those powerful legs were driving its escape from the egg to be born. It was beautiful.

I had wanted to actually see a dragon, never thinking it would be the last thing I would ever see. The egg tipped over and shattered. The creature fell to its back, kicking helplessly. Its wings were pinned underneath its body and it couldn’t roll over. It let out a loud distressed screech. 

I looked at my twisted blackened hands. My pain had stopped. It seemed that closing the door had halted the progression of my illness. I looked back towards where it had been but there were no singing statues and no images. There didn’t seem to be any way to get out of this place.

And then there was the bomb.  I didn’t know how much time I had, but it couldn’t be much. The intention was to kill this dragon egg. I watched the hatchling squirming as it hissed and kicked, still wet with fluid and now dirty with gravel and dust.

I didn’t know any dragon language other than what I’d just learned. So that was what I decided to use, repeating just those three words. The Eternal Cycle, the Unity of all Things, and Self-Sufficiency. The creature's rapid breathing slowed. It's nostrils took in my scent.

The room suddenly brightened.

I looked up at a new door, one much larger than the one I’d passed through to get here. It towered like a monolith in the space, so blinding I had to shield my eyes. My heartbeat quickened. I laughed. I’d found a way out.

 Heedless of the danger, I staggered up to the baby dragon and shoved it as hard as I could. The momentum helped it roll over and it stumbled upright, flailing its wings to clumsily lurch forward. I knew what I’d been told: That dragons were dangerous. They had to be stopped. They had to be killed. I’d also just been told the same thing about me. If I didn’t believe that about myself, then I couldn’t believe that about the dragon hatchling either.

The explosive device began to make a loud uninterrupted beep.

I coaxed the dragon hatchling to follow me and it did, staggering on the natural bends in its wings, using them as hands. 

Progress was agonizingly slow, but when I reached the door, I stopped. Standing on the other side was my ethereal twin. She held out her hand to me. When I reached through to her, for the first time, I felt the pressure and the warmth of her fingers as they curled around and grasped my wrist.  She pulled me across the threshold, into the light.

In an instant, I saw a grey, misty landscape around me. The ground was hard like concrete and frozen. I wrapped my arms about myself, shivering. I was surrounded by an ancient city with buildings as large as mountains and crumbling towers with tops that disappeared into the thick clouds.

Behind me, the dragon hatchling stumbled through. The door vanished.

I watched my friend stand next to the young dragon, one hand resting on its neck. She was dressed in a simple linen gown and leather sandals. For a moment we stared at each other, unsure of what to do or say.

I stepped forward.  She walked over to embrace me. Looking into her eyes was like looking into a mirror. We pressed our hands together, comparing the length of our fingers. Besides Robbie and Mom, this person, this ghostly image had always been my companion and, finally, I could feel her. She was real and no longer a shadow.

She looked at me, sympathy in her eyes. “Come this way. I’ll take you to someone who can help you.”

“How come… how come I can see you in all colors and… how come… I can hear you? And I… I can touch you?” My voice is shaking with emotion.

“Because of where we are. This is the only place we can meet like this.” Her voice -- she even sounded like me, but her speech had a heavy accent I couldn’t place. She didn’t enunciate her consonants. ‘Because’ sounded like ‘ecause. ‘Place’ sounded more like ‘lace. ‘Meet’ like ‘eet.

"What is this place? Who are you?” 

I follow her gaze to the distant jagged peaks and, peering from the ruined towers, glowing eyes open and massive hulks lift up triangular heads, their wings spreading.

“This is the Nibelungen, the parallel space created by dragons. In your world, they call it the Death Realm. In my world, it’s called the Field of Gods.”

Around us, the eyes in the distance followed, watching me pass through the tilted buildings over cracked and crumbling stone roads. They fluttered from hill to hill, jostling for position, like birds on a wire. And like birds on a wire, there seemed to be no end to them.

“Don’t be afraid.” She squeezed my arm. “It’s okay so long as I am with you.”

I asked again. “Who are you?”

“I am you.” She took my hand in hers. “Only, I was born in another time and place.”

I followed her and the baby dragon followed us, letting out little honks, rapidly becoming adept at using the knobby claws on its wing knuckles as feet. 

“What’s your name?” I asked. “What’s my name?”

“I don’t know your name.” She said. “My mother gave me a name. Ielia. But your name may have been different.”

“Oh… Ielia… can I have that name?” 

She stopped and looked at me. “You could take my name. But I’m taking you to see your father. Your real father. And he can name you. I think that could be better.”

“My father?” I covered my mouth with my hands. My head is ringing with emotion. “He’s here?”

“Yes. But first there’s something you need to know.”

Ielia points to the pendant on my necklace. “That is a dragon’s scale that belongs to our father. If we return it to him, he might heal you, so you won’t have to worry about turning into a monster.” 

I touched my hand to my chest where my pendant still rested, “I’ve been carrying a dragon’s scale around this whole time?”

Ielia slowly explained to me. “Yes. It’s how we met. Dragon’s scales have great power. And this scale is like a window to another time and another place. It’s how I’m able to see you and you’re able to see me even though we are separated by thousands of years and thousands of miles. I first met you, when you received it.”

I sighed in amazement. “Thousands of years?” 

In the distance, a dragon roared. It was like a cross between a trumpeting of an elephant and the roar of a jet engine. I flinched. The young dragon screeched in return.

“They won’t hurt us for now. But we don’t want to stay here.” She said. She turned to the young dragon hatchling and spoke to it gently in that language I now knew to be draconic. She looked at me and smiled. “Did you understand what I said?”

“You… you told it to stay.”

She nodded. “That’s right. You naturally understand this language even though you cannot speak it well.”

Gradually, we began to descend into a valley where a human sized village spread out on the shore of a river bed. 

“There was a word I spoke when I… attacked Isaac and his men. I thought that was my name. But Johann said it wasn’t. He said it was the name of my dragon gift.”

“That’s correct. The linguistic ability of dragons is called Speaking Spirit. By using certain words, spoken a certain way, they impose a law of nature on the land. It could be calling a wind, or controlling the earth, or making plants grow. It’s a way to impose their will on a space.”

“My Speaking Spirit… controls the weapon?”

She turned to me. “Far more than that. Your Speaking spirit imposes your law on light.”

We entered the desolate and empty streets of the abandoned village. The buildings were made of rough hewn stone and mud. The streets were bare dirt.

She led me to a house and opened the wooden door to a dusty kitchen with wooden tables, knocked over chairs, and a harp-like instrument in the corner.  

She then took me to an inner room. 

“This is … was your family house.” She let go of my hand, taking a step back.

“I lived… they lived here?” I looked around. Everything about it from the crocheted quilts to the bare utilitarian furniture was simple and handmade. But it looked like no one had lived here in years. “Where is everyone? Are they… are they all dead?”

“This village was not always here in Nibelungen.” She frowned, her brow knitting. “... it was dragged into Nibelungen.”

She clasped her hands together, struggling for a way to explain. “It might be better to show you.”

Books were open and piled on a large table. On the cover of one was the circle with the sun and moon on either side and the image of a serpent curved round, biting its tail, just like I’d seen in the ruins under the ocean off the Japanese shore.

She opened this book but the script was in a different language and I couldn’t read it. Drawing her finger down one page, she appeared to understand it.

She knew her name, her parents, her past. If anyone was the shadow, it was me.

She turned to a particular page. There was an image painted in natural inks. A white dragon’s head, peering down from the clouds upon a group of people. Its body stretched into the sky, into the sun. Before it stood a group of women with crowns on their heads.

She pointed to the group and looked at me, “Your mother was one of these women.”

Then she pointed to the dragon. “This is our father.” She stared at me, and I waited for more explanation.

“So… the story is real that… a long time ago people made themselves hybrids.”

She shifted on her feet. She spoke slowly, emphatically. “Yes. A long time ago, your mother was one of those people.” She pointed to the dragon and then pointed to the picture of the women and then pointed to me.

“How?” I asked. “If this was that long ago, why am I living now? How did I get here?”

Her eyes fall to my pendant. She pointed to it. “That was stolen. You see. Back then, people and dragons worked together, but, in your world, people turned on the dragons. The village was thrown into Nibelungen as punishment.”

“So everyone’s dead?” I said.

She nodded, chewing her lip.

“Why didn’t he kill me?”

“He couldn’t find you.” Her brown eyes stared into mine. “It’s hard to explain, but when someone goes forward in time, they disappear until they arrive at their destination. Your mother hid you for thousands of years. But you’re not hidden any more. If you return the scale, I can plead for you. Because in my world, we did not betray him.” 

I grabbed the book and I flipped through the pages looking for pictures. There was no sign of any conflict. The drawings only showed the dragon in radiant light. One depicted the dragon hovering over someone writing on parchments. One illustration showed a woman presenting a small gift in a jar followed by four pages of nothing but text before she appeared again with a child on her lap, the dragon hovering over it. 

I flipped to the back of the book. A full page panorama drawing showed rolling hills dotted with sheep, the valley and the town and the river. And in the center of it all, a large copper column with the dragon twisted into a figure eight around it, biting its tail.

“Do you think he’ll have mercy?”

She nodded. “Our father is not harsh like some other dragons. In fact, he….”

We were interrupted by an earth shaking roar. Ielia clung to me and pulled me down to the floor. What meager light that came through the window of this room suddenly went completely dark.

She pressed her finger to her lips. “Get under the bed.” She whispered.

No sooner had we taken shelter, a tremendous wind buffeted the village. The window shutters flapped and banged. The house creaked and groaned. But then the light returned and the wind died down.

She crawled out from under the bed and pulled me up. “Go! We need to get you to our father and fast!”

We ran through the empty village heading for the river. All the dragons we saw sitting on the peaks had taken flight. Like a flock of massive starlings they covered the entire sky in a breathtaking display. Their constant roar sounded more like the crashing thunder of a waterfall.

We reached a river bed that was filled with a layer of mist. Under the mist, ice was congealed at the surface while black water flowed beneath. 

“Jump in! You will sink like a stone. At the bottom is where our father lives.” 

The dragons in the sky suddenly parted to make way for something in the distance. It was coming fast, dark wings stretching from horizon to horizon, like a great thunderstorm. Ielia pushed me into the river.

A strong current dragged me under. The world went dark. I sank head first into the black. My chest ached and I began to convulse. Before I could suck in water, momentum shot me through the surface to land on a rocky floor.

Moaning and stinging from the rough fall, I turned to look about. I was right-side up in a cave. I slowed my breathing, shivering hard enough for water to fly from my hair. 

My twin leaped out of the water next, also gasping, but on her feet. She ran over to help me up. 

The wall in front of us split in two like the opening of giant shutters. A golden reptilian eye bigger than a house curved up over our heads. The body stretched farther than I could see. The scales reflected the light like mirrors, sparkled like diamonds, and projected rainbows in the air. In each scale, I saw a different version of my face at different times of my life. 

Awestruck, my companion fell to her knees. I followed suit, unsure of what to do. Its mouth had seized onto its own body. It’s throat rippled every time it swallowed.

My twin spoke a single word. “Father.”

Frozen, I could only stare, my eyes wide, breathing hard.

It exhaled, hissing through its nostrils, its breath lifting my hair.

I slowly took my pendant off from around my neck and placed it in front of the eye. It blinked, briefly plunging us into darkness.  Its growl rumbled through the ground, rattling the gravel. 

The dragon didn’t say anything to me. The scale levitated. My twin stood up. “Ouroboros, your scale has returned to you. I have returned to you. Please, have mercy on my friend. She was a baby when it was stolen. She needs your help.” She reached down and held up my twisted hand for him to see. 

“In her world, our language is dead, you have no influence. You are content and self-sufficient, yes. But would not this be a loss for you? The thought of my reality being the only one where humans sing the songs of Ouroboros. The only one where a child of Ouroboros survives… it's sad! Please… help her.”

I look at the gigantic eye, so cold and pitiless. 

In my mind, I heard a voice, deep and resonant. The dragon addressed me.

“In all of Infinite Reality, only one remains loyal to me. This Loyal One pleads for you. She asks that I do not erase you the same way as I erased the others from Infinite Reality.”

I started to shake. Erased? That empty village. The people who lived there were erased. The word in Draconic gave me the idea of something being wiped out, the same way one would wipe a stain off the countertop. Vanished.

He continued. “You were born from and for a depraved lust for power. How can you be called my child?”

I swallowed hard, my voice trembling. “I’m sorry about what happened. I just found out about this. All I want is to be able to enjoy my life. I just want to have friends and dance. I want to help people and make them happy.” The words tumbled out. “Please. I just want to live.”

”I didn’t ask to be born like this. I don’t want to be a monster. I just wanted to dance and make people happy. That’s all I want to do. That’s all I ever wanted to do.”

I covered my face with my blackened hands, crying. When I looked up again, the dragon was still looking at me, but I sensed a change. He was listening.

He spoke again. “The Humans of Your Reality sought to share my power with others to use it in a war against my kind and against me. They used the power I’d granted them to turn back against me and strike me! That was their happiness! They will not take kindly to your soft heart and will do everything in their power to turn you against me the same way they turned your family against me.”

It snorted, a strong putrid wind drifting from its sighs. When it spoke again, there was a conspiratorial note to its voice.

“However, I will be patient of my own will. My own kind will object. They too wish to benefit from my power. Even now they circle, wanting to hear a prophecy that will hand them victory over the humans and their Abominations.”

“But the rise and fall of civilizations are as certain as the rise and fall of the sun. Theirs are not exempt.”

The scale floated back to me and the chain settled around my neck. 

“I will accept you as my daughter. I will grant your wishes and give you my words to heal yourself and those like you. You have my permission to pass through the Gates of Nibelungen. Close your eyes, see where you want to go, and you will go there. Escape those who will pursue you. And pursue you they will! For I have seen the vision. You are standing on the Threshold of the Door between the world of humans and the world of dragons!”

“Only be mindful that I am watching you in all realities. I will see how true your words are. Do not betray me.”

“Now, listen to this Word.” The dragon spoke again and this time, my body ached as if I had a strong fever. I doubled over, my muscles pulling at my bones, my insides hot like a furnace. When the pain subsided, the scales on my hands were gone, my fingers were back to normal. 

"This word will reverse the spread of your corruption and corruption of others. You have my blessing. You will not die."

I stared in wonder at my hands. I was healed. I was okay.

His voice grew quieter. “Listen, my enemy comes. Quickly, take shelter under my jaw.”

Ielia took my hand and led me beneath the massive beast’s chin before another voice, loud like a horn, blasted into our ears.

“Where is the abomination? Bring it out. I will kill it!” The earth shook from a great collision. It must have been another dragon, even if I couldn’t see it. It spoke like a dragon and its shrieking was constant.

Ouroboros remained silent.

“You defy your King?!”

“Brother. How long it has been since we have spoken…”

The other dragon’s voice is high pitched with desperation. “I smell its disgusting scent. I feel its disgusting thought! Why do you hide it! This… abomination! It is the one to destroy me?”

“I have uttered no such prophecy…” was my father’s calm reply.

“Then I will destroy it?!” It demanded.

My father lapsed into a silence. Then he answered, a subtle hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “I have uttered no such prophecy.”

The response to his mocking answer was an enraged shrieking. The earth was shaking. “Tell me! Tell me the vision! Is there a future where I am king! How! How do I defeat the abominations!”

My kindred spirit holds my hand and pointed. A door had appeared under the shadow of his head. “Go.” She said.

“Will I ever see you again?” I asked.

She nodded and pointed to the necklace. “I will always be here to guide you. And I am guiding you now. Go!”

I took a deep breath and stepped into the door of light. Too late I realized that I hadn’t asked my father my name.

When the world returned, I was stunned to be in costume, on stage the night of my performance after the Dance of the Triumphant Dark King. The crowd was gasping in wonder. I looked to my right and saw myself! The person I was on that night did not notice me. That night I happily left the stage thinking I had wowed the crowd with my dancing. 

Shocked and confused, I bowed and left the stage as my current self, walking quickly out the opposite way, out the exit, kicking off my toe shoes and running into the frigid winter night.

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[enyas-sojourn]

A Capture on Genesian Road

(07/05/20 10:51) ~ Warrior Of The North ~ Bejar Bjorntand Master Tharlarion Rider ~ ~ Hraesvelgr ~ ~ says to ALL: Enters ... (07/05/20 10:52 am) Absolute Obedience Enya -=Genesian Road=- Is traveling along the Genesian Road connecting Brundisium and other coastal cities with the south says to ALL: I am forever amazed, and rendered speechless which in and of itself is a bargain for anybody who really knows me. But, alas!!! There aren't very many who can honestly say that. Not that I'm a difficult slave. Nor am I the type of slave that balks because I do not like the kiss of the whip upon the flesh of this back. It stings and though the welts are visible for days, those same welts create when itchy fabric comes into contact with it. I've had my share and I do my best to avoid being whipped. Or cuffed upside the head. Then again, the majority of the whippings were purely educational purposes only. When a slave does something wrong, punishment soon follows and the type of punishment is at the sole discretion of a slave's owner. Personal or City owned or even if the slave is being put through her paces at a Slaver's House. Indeed... sometimes lessons need to be learned the hard way. These lessons aren't always as difficult as they are challenging. I've always enjoyed challenges and look at them as pieces of a puzzle that just has to be solved. (07/05/20 11:04 am) Absolute Obedience Enya -=Genesian Road=- Is traveling along the Genesian Road connecting Brundisium and other coastal cities with the south says to ALL: These proclamations are, of course, based on my own experiences. There are a few scars that stripe my back and are quite visible when you know what you're looking for. Whip me once, shame on me, but whip me twice for the same thing then it's ALL on me. It usually is regardless, but the point is, is that slavery isn't for everybody. That pitiful creature that kept whining about what to do now? I don't see her as slave material. But, what do I know? I don't have an eye for slave flesh. Except my own and I will do whatever I can to ensure that my flesh remains intact unless told otherwise. I've always been owned by an Inn or a Tavern. Once I was even part of a Camp. That didn't last very long and within 4 hand I had been sold. Back to the beginning some would have told me. But it's not going back to the beginning at all. My future owner just hasn't discovered me. Yet. (07/05/20 11:12 am) ~ Warrior Of The North ~ Bejar Bjorntand Master Tharlarion Rider ~ ~ Hraesvelgr ~ ~ -=Genesian Road=- Is traveling along the Genesian Road connecting Brundisium and other coastal cities with the south says to Absolute ObedienceEnya: grunts (07/05/20 11:20 am) ~ Warrior Of The North ~ Bejar Bjorntand Master Tharlarion Rider ~ ~ Hraesvelgr ~ ~ -=Genesian Road=- Is traveling along the Genesian Road connecting Brundisium and other coastal cities with the south says to Absolute Obedience Enya: The medium sized tarnship had made landfall to a small port middway between Brundisium and Bazi. I had some bussines inland and thusly had brought my high tharlarion with me as it was mutch faster then walking. While the crew would resply fresh water and suplies i had made the short tripp inland to meet an old friend of mine that had agreeded to serve as a "mail office" between myself and my oldest son that was the commander of a unite of mercenarys. After some proper man hugs- and some paga letters were exhanged and i was on my way back for my ship. Taking a shorter route over some knolls rather then following the small dirt road out to the main coastal road i would halt on my vantage point as a spotted a small caravan. I was some 400 yards away so might not be noticed from the road unless someone were on alert and scanned the knols and surrounding terrain. I had not been on the hunt but i was a man of Gor and more so a Torvaldslander. hmmm......i would squint...then grunt and pull out my builders glass to get a good look of the small caravan moving on the road down below. And should anyone down there have a buildersglas and spy back on me they would see a man and beast that looked something like this I was mounted atop of my high tharlarion Scar, the reins held with calm to the left hand*1*. My frame was that off 6´4. 230lbs. I was dressed in a leather tunic with a raven sewn into the chest peace over the heart. A leather cloak with the hood up tho with the helmet under it the hood held a somewhat triangular shape. Dark brown leathers and my feet and legs covered by high tharlarion rider boots. A northern helmet, with chainmail covering the neck and with the nose guard in the down position covered my head*2*.A 7 foot spear to my right hand held aprox mid haft with the tip skyward.*3* And a 3 foot round wooden center gripped Torvaldslands shield reenforced with steel band and a center steel boss held was held to my back with a thick leather strapp, it was painted with my personal crest of a crossed gladius with a northern battle axe in a circle in a background that was devided with a deep red to the left side and a deep blue to the right side.*4* Over my left shoulder the handel of a 3 foot long sword could be seen. The cloak having been pulled aside to uncover that of my left shoulder to enabel a draw of the blade that was .36 inches total length. 30 inch blade. 4 inch cross guard, 6 inch handel with a hammer shapped pommel.*5* To my right hip i held a quiver of 10 bolts for the cavalry crossbow.*6*. To the right side of the saddel there could be seen a cavalry crossbow It was positioned in sutch a manner it could easily be drawn by the right hand and with my right boot to the stearup used to drawback and make the weapon ready to fire another bolt.*7* The spear was resting across my lap while i held the buildersglas with my left hand to get a good look at the road and my current object of interest. (07/05/20 11:34 am) Absolute Obedience Enya -=Genesian Road=- Is traveling along the Genesian Road connecting Brundisium and other coastal cities with the south says to ~ Warrior Of The North : The caravan was making slow progress. I was, in my own way, anxious to reach our destination and see what the future might hold for a girl like me. I didn't dwell on such things as that. I was curious more than anything and I knew that whatever happened was meant to be. I never counted on anything being the same or remaining the same because nothing remained the same. Changes took place all the time. Most didn't see it or didn't want to see it. But me? I wasn't better than any slave. I was merely being me and who I was and not just who I was but what I was, too. I sighed and peeked out the back of the wagon. I almost wanted to get out and walk along side the thing ... but just at that moment, I heard cries for the caravan to stop. I honestly think that this was another deterrent in reaching our destination sooner rather than later... However, because the wagon was beginning to slow and because it was time for the noon meal to be prepared and served ... I, as well as three other girls and two thralls, were unshackled and told that we were to begin the meal preparations ... I just grinned. Didn't have to beg to be let out of the wagon and I'd be able to stretch my legs and tease some of the guards in the process ... (07/05/20 11:43 am) ~ Warrior Of The North ~ Bejar Bjorntand Master Tharlarion Rider ~ ~ Hraesvelgr ~ ~ -=Genesian Road=- Is traveling along the Genesian Road connecting Brundisium and other coastal cities with the south says to Absolute Obedience Enya: As the two wagons stopped i at first thought it was becouse of me. But as the slaves were let out of the 2nd wagon and started to sett up a simpel camp site off the road to the east i would take my time to counte you all cuz yes i did know how to counte sens mother had been a scribe from Ar- murmering to myself- 1..2..3...4 kajiras... moste of them seemed rather plain but then there was you.....There was a Slaver and a young man-perhaps his son or apprentice... And two other men the drivers of the two wagon. and the two thralls....hmmm......I considered my options...i wasnt really looking to kill anyone this day but you were pretty so what to do...what to do......But then as i saw you breaking away a bitt from the rest of them and go behind some bushes probably to gather fire wood or perhaps for a nature call- eather way you were alone- away from the group and so with a sly sleen grin i would sett away the builders glass to the saddel bag and bring my spear down along the tharlarions right flank pointing forward. I gave a low sharp whistel and the Tharlarion would start to walke slowly sideways down the knoll towards the area were you were at. My hope was that you all were not paying to close attention to notice the dust nor myself as i made my way down the side..... (07/05/20 11:49 am) Absolute Obedience Enya -=Genesian Road=- Is traveling along the Genesian Road connecting Brundisium and other coastal cities with the south says to ~ Warrior Of The North : FREE!!!! I almost laughed at the thought, but then I sobered because I was free. Freeer than most women ever imagined to be. I had been tasked to gather wood and other debris to start a fire. I was given a sack in case there were bosk chips missed or left or recently dropped. I wrinkled my nose and rolled my eyes, recalling the time I had accidentally stepped into some of these ... chips ... then I began to giggle. And the giggles turned to laughter and soon I was in a fit. Here I was, in the middle of nowhere ... really, I was somewhere between Bazi and Brundisium collecting items for a fire and recalling a time when I stepped into a mess .. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going nor to how far I had traveled from the "safety" of the wagons... Another quick glance over my shoulder said I was still within seeing distance of the small caravan ... I shrugged a shoulder. Turned my back on the caravan and continued to gather items needed... (07/05/20 11:55 am) ~ Warrior Of The North ~ Bejar Bjorntand Master Tharlarion Rider ~ ~ Hraesvelgr ~ ~ -=Genesian Road=- Is traveling along the Genesian Road connecting Brundisium and other coastal cities with the south says to Absolute Obedience Enya: Then as the Tharlarion slipped as it wasnt really built like a mounten verr but a sprinter on flat lands a small landslide of rocks and pebbels whent down the side with a clowd of dust some 200 yards behind of her. I grunted gave a sharp tug of the reins with my left hand to straighten up the beast and then wacked his right flank with the butt end of the spear and he came down the side like shoot out of a canon with a leap and a THUD he landed on even ground and sett off towards you like its ass was on fire with big long bounding stepps -this when in a larger group of the high tharlarions in full run would at times have a similar sound to thunder. The distance between us was shortened very fast as i moved the reins over to my right hand to have my left hand free while i hunched forward over the neck of my tharlarion. If she was dazed and got in a bitt of panic might not even see the man atop of the beast and simply the rather lage meat eating lizard comming at her in a full sprint..... (07/05/20 12:12 pm) Absolute Obedience Enya -=Genesian Road=- Is traveling along the Genesian Road connecting Brundisium and other coastal cities with the south says to ~ Warrior Of The North : Gor, at times, is very harsh. Some might even want to call Gor cruel. Hrump! No one ever menions the beauty found here. Or the wonders of Gor. I gave a mental shrug, knowing that most are usually swept up in what's taking place with them or around them. As a slave, I didn't have to worry about that. Did I? Of course not!! THUD!!! I was leaning to scoop some dried bosk chips into the sack I had been given when I heard the noise. And rather than bring my body upright to look, I turned my head in that direction expecting to see ... what I didn't know. But all I could see was a cloud of dust. And then I heard a rumbling sound. Deep and vibrating. I looked down at the ground, thinking it was going to leap up and meet my face half-way but it didn't. It was a pale Thassa gaze that saw an enormous dark shadow that seemed to be rising out of that pile of dust and moving. Fast. It was moving very fast. I felt my jaw drop. But could I move? No, because my mind was still trying to decipher if that huge, dark shadow that was still shrouded in that dust, was real or not. The dust was clearing. And the shadow loomed. The shadow was moving. And it was moving toward me. I was unable to move. My body wasn't listening to any command I was giving it either! The dust was clearing. The dust was clearing!!!! THE DUST WAS CLEARING!!! Racing toward me was a behemoth of a beast. And astride this beast, high perched in the saddle of the Tharlarion was a man that appeared to be larger than the Tharlarion!!! I moved then. Yes I did. I moved in the direction in which my feet were facing and I didn't stop. I opened my mouth and let out a screech, that, I'm sure, could be heard all the way back in Bazi!!! But could I look away to see where I was going? No. I could not. I wasn't making as fast as progress as that beast was!!! (07/05/20 12:23 pm) ~ Warrior Of The North ~ Bejar Bjorntand Master Tharlarion Rider ~ ~ Hraesvelgr ~ ~ -=Genesian Road=- Is traveling along the Genesian Road connecting Brundisium and other coastal cities with the south says to Absolute Obedience Enya: I grinned moste pleased as she got up and ran in a straight line away from us, that be me and the high tharlarion. Her scream did catch the attention of the Slaver and the other peopel scattered around the make shift camp. First they saw her run across the road towards the sea. And then with a might leap the muscular beast leap atop of the road and they would hardly catch a glimps of my dark brown cloths in a road runner similar fassion befor she whent down the left side of the road and the tharlarion after and we were out of sight from the camp. With a small sharp whistel ones the tharlarion was snapping at her heels i would have it adjust with a diagonal stepp forward and to its right as i leaned down and to my left with my thick powerfull tree trunk arm bent and then she feelt something akin to the oar of a serpentship hit her across her shoulder blades and a paw would then secure itself to her center torso as she was HEAVED UP -off the ground as i then leaned to my right and pulled her Up and over and the wind knocked out of her as you were sett belly down across the thick next of the High Tharlarion as i layed the weight and force of my left arm across her back while a vice like paw closed in a iron gripp to her neck so she would not slipp and dropp on her head-the fall would moste likely at this speed have killed her one way or the other as two short sharp whistels would have the Lizard named Scar due to the long nasty scar running down tween its eyes from the right tempel and down to head for the coste line and the port where my ship was . The port was not far off. (07/05/20 12:56 pm) Absolute Obedience Enya -=Genesian Road=- Is traveling along the Genesian Road connecting Brundisium and other coastal cities with the south says to ~ Warrior Of The North : I can honestly say I had never been hunted. But, from my experience, there is always a first time for everything. And this, of course, was no exception. I screeched again, thinking that it wasn't doing any good, plus I believed that I was too far from where the caravan stopped to be heard above the thundering that was right on my heels. I dared not look over my shoulder. I dared not stop, either. I was already gasping for breath and the sack I had been given to collect bosk chips was still held tightly and firmly between my fingers. I grinned because I lifted my arm as high as I could, thinking that if one of the guards from the caravan could see the sack they would know where I was and come after me. Is there such a thing as luck on Gor? Because if there was, I hadn't seen hide nor hair of it. Which meant that luck didn't exist or was nothing more than a figment of the imagination. I had to know where the thing was!!! Yet, I still didn't dare turn to look fearing that to do so would cause me to misstep and fall. Or stumble. Or get trampled on. I had to know though!! So, I turned my head and all I saw were grey and green colors. I wrinkled my nose again because of the odor that engulfed me. The combination of the dust and the smell of the beasts and, I'm sure, the aroma of my own fear that mingled with those other flavors were soon put out of my mind because I felt my body plunging forward. My eyes widened. My feet left the ground, and then I was gasping for air. Again. And as my mouth opened and closed, similar to a fish out of water, I felt as if I were being squeezed and that I would be making a trip to the City of Dust ... the last thing I do remember, were my eyes closing ... (07/05/20 1:08 pm) ~ Warrior Of The North ~ Bejar Bjorntand Master Tharlarion Rider ~ ~ Hraesvelgr ~ ~ -=Docks=- At the docks, where the Thassa meets the land says to Absolute Obedience Enya: There was a rison the high tharlarion cavalry of Lara was called Shock Cavalry. I had ones upon a time been there commander. Right here and now i simply keept her like that belly down across the thick powerfull neck of the High Tharlarion with my left arm keeping her secure in this position. The beast was keept in a full run right up untill we reatched the small Port only then would i slow down and as the clicking of metal shoed claws tapped on the rounded stones of the ports streets. Only then would i relax some. I would seat myself in my usual manner of straight back. Head held high and the spear held at my right side with the speartip for the sky. Making our way down for the docks my crew was ready some of the men loitering on the docks talking and laughing as they spotted me- THERE HE IS! They would shout and then point- LOOK- He got us a gift! The men would laugh- Whatcha got there Captain??? As i halted and slided you down into the awaiting arms of two Torvie men that even with there size were rather gentel as they captured her by the legs and arms and sett her to her feet and then held her-more so to keep her steady then so she would not run away. I took a moment to look down at her dust covered self.- she had looked pretty enough from afar but now not so mutch- And what WAS That smell?!? she smelled like bosk dung- The men would wrinkel there nose and waft a hand befor there faces- WHATCHA DO WITH HER Captain? roll her in bosk shit??? - Dontcha know he likes em smelly -would the skinny looking fella simply known as nose the knife say sitting on a crate picking at his nails with one of his manny knifes- and the men laughed anew.

[leximpwrites]

Seeker 1

The first part of my current project! Please bear in mind that this is still a work in progress, and these may or may not be the final versions. As always, feedback is appreciated and encouraged! Also an fyi, these chapters will probably average between 1,500 and 2,500 words each, so I’ll be sticking them behind page breaks. Also just so you guys know what you’re getting into. Lol

@officialleehadan​ @kitvinslakte​ @nox919​ @dierotenixe​ @stuck-in-theclouds​ @gyvorn12​ @apenvssword​ @wildforestferret​ @krceramics​ @starsdreaming​ @wordsdreaming

The musical ringing of a sword clearing its sheath is actually the first sign of trouble, though to be completely honest, I'm really not paying attention to the rest of the bar. I'm intent on the map in front of me, and the places the owner is marking on it. 

I turn to look over my shoulder and see three toughs, blades drawn, facing off against a pair of personal guards who are escorting a young noble boy, and who is currently hiding behind them. 

"Ye spilled mah drink, ye stupid cur!" snarls the largest of the three. He has the rolling burr of the mountain tribes to the north, and a face only a mother could love, nose clearly having been broken in three places, several ugly scars, and a large wart on his left cheek. 

"Back off, commoner!" the older of the two guards growls back, a short sword in one hand, a long knife in the other. He has the air of an experienced fighter, and I would bet good money on him being able to handle any two of the three in front of him without too much effort. "I'm no fool! You were trying to lift milord's purse!"

"Liar!" the northerner yells, and lunges forward. 

He doesn't even get close.

I'm always impressed with how quiet my apprentice can be when he has a mind to. Even I'm slightly surprised when Jax seems to materialize out of nowhere behind the three thugs. He catches the leader almost out of midair, and tosses him halfway across the room. The thug lands on a table, which was never made to take that kind of abuse, and crashes to the floor. Before the other two can react, he grabs each one by their collars, and slams them into each other. Stunned, they collapse in a heap on the floor.

The situation dealt with, Jax looks up and catches my eye, before smiling sheepishly. "Sorry, sir."

"No, good job, Jax," I tell him approvingly. I turn back to the barkeep and hand him several gold regents, and then several more. "These are for the mess and table, and those are for the information." 

He bobs his head gratefully and pockets the coins. "Thankee, Sir Seeker," he says with a genuine smile. "You an' yours are always welcome 'ere." 

I nod my thanks and signal to Jax to pick up the two at his feet while I retrieve the northerner from the wreckage of the table. The young noble and his two guards take that as their cue and quietly slip out the door. I make a mental note of the house sigil on one of the guards sleeves. I’ll pay them a visit tomorrow and make sure the boy is alright. It never hurts to cultivate goodwill amongst the upper class.

"We'll drop this trash off at the Guard house on our way back to the barracks," I say, both to the barkeep and to Jax, before we turn and head outside. It's raining lightly, typical for this time of year, and it rouses the three miscreants from their semi-conscious daze. They struggle briefly, dismayed to find themselves in the custody of two Seekers. I keep a close eye on them, wary of any tricks they might have. A hidden blade, or some other unpleasantness.

"So, what did the barkeep give us, sir?" Jax asks, shoving the two men ahead of him roughly as we head down the stone street. Imperial Engineers are truly masters of their craft, the road paved with broad, triangular stones.

"Some good, solid information, and a worrying pattern," I tell him, retrieving the city map from the belt pouch I had stuffed it into. The bartender had marked a number of spots, and I point them out. "Look at the number of sightings there have been in just this district alone."

"What do you think, a nest?" he asks after looking it over, sounding a little nervous. Sometimes I forget that despite his size, Jax is still a lad. 

"Most likely," I reply as we round a corner and spot the Guard house up ahead. The soldier on duty salutes us smartly, and hands our prisoners off to one of his subordinates after we explain what happened.

I resume our conversation once we head back out into the rain. "Probably a new queen in the catacombs under the city trying to stake out its territory."

I suppose I should introduce myself before we get any further into my tale, huh?

My name is Zepara Alchanic, and I, along with my apprentice Jaxus Luteno, are Royal Seekers currently stationed in Throne City, the capital of the Human Empire. 

And what are Seekers, you ask? We're monster hunters. Damn good ones, too. Tailor made for our job through a series of alchemical and magical transformations called The Proofing. It gives us the physical traits we need to fight monsters, and years of training gives us the skills.

Sometimes, in my darker moments, I wonder just how much we give up to become what we are. 

But usually, I feel the trade is worth it. I am very good at what I do. Technically my oath is to serve the Eternal King, but I see it as less loyalty to the crown, and more loyalty to the nation and its people. My job is to hunt down and destroy monsters that threaten the lives of everyday citizens. 

But back to my tale. 

I give Jax's shoulder an encouraging pat, despite the fact that I have to reach well above my own head to do it.

 "Don't worry, lad," I say, careful to keep my tone light. No need to worry the boy. "Even a full nest isn't much of a threat to a pair of Seekers who know what they're headed into. Just stick by me, remember your training, and you'll be fine." 

That seems to lift his spirits, and he nods, then begins studiously checking over his gear. I watch him for a moment, making sure he’s doing it properly. Satisfied he’s going about it just as I taught him, I follow suit. A Seeker relies on their gear. If your gear fails you in a fight, you’re dead, pure and simple.

Taking on a shade nest would actually be a good challenge for Jax, now that I think about it. He’s been progressing well since I became his mentor four years ago, but he tends to underestimate himself, and it holds him back a little. This will be a good way to show him what he can really do, and give his ego a healthy boost in the process. 

We finish our gear-check just as we reach the entrance to the underground portion of the city. There are thousands of miles of tunnels, galleries, and cellars under Throne City.

Originally it was just the mines under the dwarf fortress-city that is now the Imperial Palace, but over the centuries each generation dug their own underground portions and linked it into the already existing network, The end result of that, of course, being a complex labyrinth of truly staggering size. 

It can be very, very easy to get lost down there. 

I dig out a key that every Seeker is given when they complete their training. It gives us access to places like this. I unlock the steel gate that bars the stairwell down, and lock it behind us once we're through. We have to bend almost double to fit, as these ceilings were not designed with a seven foot Seeker in mind. Twice I hear Jax mutter a curse behind me as he bumps his head on something, and I have to bite back a laugh. I might be having a hard time, but the poor boy must find it almost unbearable. 

It isn’t long before we reach the bottom of the steps, and I straighten gratefully, in what appears to be a storeroom for one of the restaurants or inns above us. The walls are lined with sacks, crates, and barrels filled with various foodstuffs, all neatly organized and clearly labeled. 

I sniff the air, catching the rotten-meat stink of our prey almost at once. I hear Jax doing the same a moment later, and I nod my approval when he points down a nearby passage.

"Over that way, I think," he says, and grins when he sees me nod. We draw our paired ton-filar, heavy long-bladed fighting daggers with brass knuckles built into the grip, and a short four inch spike at the other end. They’re vicious weapons, specifically made for close in fighting, and designed to give us as many ways to hurt an enemy as possible with a single implement.

Most Seeker gear and weaponry is designed this way. It gives us an edge. And believe you me, when you're fighting the kinds of beasties we do, it always comes in handy. 

We move off in the direction of the scent, careful to keep our blades up before us. The passageway is narrow, so Jax leads the way, and I follow closely, walking backwards to make sure nothing tries to sneak up on us.

We continue down the tunnel, following our noses, until it opens up again into another wide room. The smell is horrendous, and I hear Jax gag a little. 

"Breathe through your mouth," I advise him. "It helps."

I scan the room, taking everything in all at once. Trash, rotting food, and less identifiable detritus litter the floor, and the far corner of the room is buried under a mass of reeking filth that rises to the ceiling. I curse myself for not thinking. As soon as they hear my voice, shades come pouring out of the nest, chittering angrily, eager for a meal.

Shades aren't big, about the size of a cat, and aren’t especially threatening. They look like a hairless rat with an odd, bird-like head. They're not even hard to kill. A good solid kick from a normal human is enough to put an end to one. 

The problem is, there's never just one. 

They breed fast, in clutches of seven or eight, every three weeks. They carry disease, and spread rot wherever they go. Nobody knows how they came to be, but we know that dark magic spawned them, because all our monster hunting tricks work just fine. 

"Grenades!” I snap, following my own advice, withdrawing one from the belt pouch I keep them in. 

Grenades are expensive kit, but absolutely priceless when dealing with swarms of creatures like shades. A small sphere packed with gunpowder, enclosed within an outer sphere of cold iron plated with silver, and the space between the two filled with a mixture of rock salt and holy water. 

We light them with a flick of the thumb against the special alchemical fuse, and then toss them into the middle of the pack. They detonate with a surprising level of force for such small weapons, shaking some dirt loose from the ceiling. Between the explosion, holy water, and rock salt, dozens of the little beasts vanish into puffs of dirty smoke. Dozens more are killed as shrapnel scythes into the massed bodies.

The remainder of the pack, their numbers thinned by the grenades, rush us. Jax and I spin around each other, years of training giving us the skill to fight in such a tight space against a swarm of enemies. I skewer a pair on my ton-filar, turn, and catch another mid-air in the chest with one of the pommel spikes. Jax ducks around me and punches down the two that are trying to leap on me from behind, and boots another in the face when it tries to bite at him. It careens back into its fellows and takes them down in a tangle.

With a chattering shriek that makes us both wince, the queen and her nest guard emerge. 

Easily three times the size of their smaller fellows, the nest guard are huge, slavering beasts with glittering red eyes, long, sharp beak-like mouths, and wicked claws. The queen is even bigger and nastier, her belly swollen with her current clutch. 

"Blast her!" Jax calls, and I nod, quietly impressed. We whirl with skill and speed that no human could hope to match, as we trade blades for the coach guns, safely secured across our backs. Jax's is the typical, blunt-nosed, over-under variant favored by most Seekers. 

But mine…

Mine is a work of art. It was a gift, made for me by the master weapon-alchemist Argius Cratona of Wavedancer, after I rescued his daughter from a lich during my apprenticeship. It has six barrels, twice the length of a standard coach gun, arranged in a circle around a single larger barrel at the center. The steel barrels are polished to a mirror shine, and ornate, curling scrollwork is etched into each one. The solid cherrywood grip and stock is chased with brass and burnished to a deep, warm glow. The gun's name, Sophia, is inscribed on a small brass plate embedded in the stock.

It has three triggers. The first two are tied to three of the six outer barrels each, so that a single trigger pull fires three bursts of cold iron and silver shot at once. 

The third trigger goes to the center barrel, which fires a specially made bullet created by Cratona. Called a Decimator Round, it’s a solid slug of cold iron coated in silver, and infused with powerful alchemical compounds that detonate once inside a target. Every month he sends me a box with thirty of the hefty, hand-sized shells, along with notes from him and his daughter. I’ve kept a steady correspondence with them both over the years, and never once in all my time as a Seeker has Sophia failed to kill the monster it was aimed at.  

But I digress. 

We fire together, then fire again, the booming report of our guns thunderously loud in the enclosed cellar, filling the far side of the room with a blizzard of shot that tears the queen and her guards to bloody shreds. Jax and I deftly snap open the breeches of our guns, ejecting the spent casings and replacing them with fresh, though I take a moment longer due to the extra barrels.

Silence descends for several long minutes as we wait to see if any more shades come out of the darkness, but either we had killed them all, or the remaining few were smart enough to scatter.

"I think we're done here," I decide at last, holstering Sophia, and Jax follows my example. I wave for him to follow, and head back the way we had come. "You did good work back there, Jax, very well done. I'm impressed."

Jax ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. "Thank you, sir, but I only did what I thought was best."

"Which is exactly what you should do," I tell him firmly, with a smile. "You acted as a Seeker should, and I'm proud of you. You have solid battle instincts, and you don't have any lack in terms of skill. You've learned everything I've taught you so far, and learned it well. You do me credit as your mentor, and yourself as a Seeker."

Jax is left speechless. I stifle a small twinge of guilt. Perhaps I’ve been a bit sparse with praise up until now. Well, that can be fixed easily enough. 

"Come on, lad," I say, ducking low to head back up the stairs. "Let's go get something to eat. I would say we've earned our supper tonight."

[willofhounds]

Broken souls ch 1

Newt's POV

Sometimes he had a hard time believing how much his life had changed. Once upon a time he had been a happy little boy that looked up to his older brother. Things were much simpler back then.

Asa child he had grown up in a small pureblood family. His mother raised hippogryffs while his father focused in politics. It was there that he learned he had an affinity with animals.

His older brother by seven years did not have this affinity. It was so strange. It had been so long that he could not recall his brother's face. Just part of his name. Thee. That's what he called the older Scammander. It hurt to think about what he had lost. So he tried to avoid it.

Just like with anything there were nights like this, where memories refused to stay buried. On a night when he was just seven years old a man had come to their manor. It was not known how he got passed the wards only that he had.

Unlike most assassins that his family had dealt with at one point or another this one did not use a wand. There was no defending against what he had used. A gun as he would learn it was called. It could fire faster than any wizard and was just as lethal.

Newt had gone down to get a drink of water as the house elf was busy at night. They had to sleep as well had been his thoughts. It was that mistake that changed his life forever.

He found his mother and father dying from gunshot wounds to the forehead. Blood pooled around them soaking his socked feet as he tried to wake them up. The picture still haunted him in his nightmares.

That night he was given a choice. Die by the killer's hand. Or go with him and live. Not wanting to die he went with the man.

For, four years after that he was forced to train with the man. Every day was a battle to survive. He was trained in martial arts and how to fire all different types of guns. In the beginning the assassin tried the gun to his hands so that he would gain the muscles required to fire it.

Then one day a teenage girl a few years older than him killed the assassin. He felt both relief and fear. The assassin was his mentor and had kept him alive for years.

On that night Chronos had taken him in. Before he had never shot at anything but targets. They gave him living breathing people. His once vibrant green eyes dulled.

It had been eight years since he joined Chronos. Two years ago he had become a Number. Easers were just assassins. Numbers were the best of the best. They gave him the the number XIII and the nickname Black Cat. He brought bad luck to anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path.

The only thing that was the same was his love for creatures. When he became a Number they gave him his own apartment. There were a few stray cats that he fed.

Newt sighed as he lay out on the rooftop of his apartment. A tiny grey kitten lay on the top of his chest. Footsteps drew his attention to the fact that someone was coming up onto the roof.

Newt sat slightly up so that he could see the person. A man with black hair and grey eyes. He wore a black trench coat. Under that was a white undershirt and black slacks.

It took a moment but eventually he recognized the other. The man had just moved across the street to the other apartments.

To Newt's trained eye he could see where the other had a wand holster. It was tightly wrapped against the man's right wrist. He was definitely a wizard. He had to admit that he was curious. Most wizards stuck to their manors or apartments in the communities. Newt knew of magic but due to his upbringing didnt know how to use it.

In a handful of times he had lost control over himself. He didn't remember what happened at those points. When he came to the areas had been destroyed. The bodies looking like they had been mauled by wild animals.

His only saving grace was that Chronos didn't care. If they did they would have killed him. This all did make him wonder. What did this wizard want?

The dark grey eyes blinked at him in surprise for a moment. Then the man said in a low rumble, "Pardon me, I wasn't expecting anyone else up here. My name is Percival Graves."

The man closed the space between them. His accent was distinctly American. He knew Chronos was still having problems with some of the figures. That was partially why he was stationed in New York. It would allow him quick access to assassinations when they became necessary.

Newt immediately sat up startling the kitten on his chest. The little one made a disgruntled hiss but obediently moved onto the rooftop. Part of him wondered who could draw their weapon faster? The wizard? Or the assassin?

His weapon was Hades  is an ornate handgun issued to Newt as the 13th member of the Chronos umbers. It is entirely made of Orichalcum, the strongest metal on earth.

His gun is a six-shot double-action revolver with gold engraving on its grip and barrel. The frame has a triangular attachment that bears the Roman numeral XIII on both sides. It possess a rapid-fire trigger for quick shooting.

Hades is a top-break revolver, meaning it is reloaded by "breaking" the pistol in half, exposing the rear of the cylinder. This automatically ejects all cartridges inserted and allows the user to drop in fresh ones. A unique feature of the gun is a five-meter-long retractable wire leash inserted in the grip.

Every Number had a weapon unique to them. Hades was his and his alone. Sephiria had it made for him when his skills proved to be useful.

Graves said with an appreciative look at the weapon by his side, "That's a sharp revolver. I don't have much experience with such weapons."

Newt's eyes went to where he knew the wand was hidden. Maybe if he ignored the man he would go away. Obviously he wasn't looking for a fight.

"You don't talk much do you? That's fine," or not. Why did this wizard want to talk to him?

The wizard sat down on the ground before Newt. Newt didn't move but neither did he speak. This was the first time he had interaction with someone outside of Chronos work. All other interactions ended with someone's death.

The man called Graves said, "Its strange to find someone so quiet around here. My neighbors are nosy and bothersome. That's what I get for being the new person."

Newt could remember his first few weeks. His neighbors would leave him gifts outside his door. He never ate them for fear of being poisoned. It was better safe than sorry after all. He did not envy the attention that the other was receiving.

His green eyes found movement from his little kitten. Newt named the little one Nero when he first met the grey kitten. Han had been starving at the time. If Newt had not taken him in he would have starved to death.

In the time he had known Nero never once had he approached anyone other than Newt. Most of the time he hissed and clawed at anyone who dared pet him.

However Nero did make his way to the wizard. When Graves reached out he didn't scratch the man. It was intriguing to watch.

Was his cat replacing him? If he was Newt wouldn't blame him. Who wanted someone who simply killed? Not many.

Graves inquired curiously, "What's his name?"

Newt almost answered but caught movement in the streets below them. A familiar black suited man was in his street. Waiting for Graves to leave. It seemed he had a mission.

Graves looked at him as he gained his feet. The man inquired, "You're leaving? Good night then."

Newt didn't reply. He made his way swiftly across the roof to the door that led to the stairwell.

At the door he hesitated then rasped his voice hoarse from lack of use, "Nero. His name is Nero."

Then like the shadow he was, Newt was gone.

Graves's POV

When Percival came up to the rooftop across the street he wasn't expecting it to be occupied. He was simply looking to escape his overbearing neighbors.

When Seraphina insisted that he get an apartment in town. Something had spooked her and he was curious. So he agreed to the new placement.

He put wards to keep thieves from getting in. Part of him wanted to put wards up against no mags. It would be suspicious and if there was something happening he wanted to be inconspicuous.

Percival had gone across the street to look out over the city. At first he had not seen the boy laying on the roof. When he did their eyes locked.

The boy couldn't have been out of his teens. He had green eyes that felt eerily familiar. The raspy voice had caught him off guard. Five simple words had him intrigued.

What he saw peaked his interest but he didn't understand why. The Roman numeral was XIII. What did it mean?

[lukes-writing]

Chapter 1: The Man from the Trailer

Project introduction | Previous chapter | Next chapter

Word count: 4000 Warnings: Mild violence, profanity

September 21st, 8:55 PM, Casino Northstar, Trinity Gate

The young man strides towards the casino’s main entrance, keeping his head down. Several people notice him - wealthy gentlemen in expensive suits with fine cigars in their hand, leaning against a luxurious car, trying to make a good impression on the women who accompany them, usually young enough to be their daughters.

They give him just one quick glance and continue to pay attention to the beauties by their side. Why should they care about some sketchy figure dressed in unkempt street clothes, walking with a heavy limp? His posture is hunched up, with hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Tall, but neither athletic or muscular; even though he has to be in his early twenties, he is still lanky like a teenager.

The casino in the Confederation District is built to resemble an ancient Roman building - white, with numerous pillars, a triangular pediment above the entrance, even a dome on the roof. There are several marble stairs leading to the glass-filled front door.

The sketchy man draws more attention as he starts to climb the stairs. The wealthy visitors presumed he’s there only to inhale the atmosphere of luxury and beauty. That he’s some kind of miserable homeless man, or possibly some trailer trash, just continuing his journey with no goal. But now, it seems this otherworldly man wants to disrupt their social bubble and invade their territory.

Some of them take his mere presence as an insult. This is no place for such lowlifes.

As the man conquers the last stair and starts to make his way to the main entrance, a large bouncer blocks his way. He’s shorter than the mysterious visitor, but much larger and stronger, dressed in a suit and sunglasses. “Hey, where do you think you’re going in such clothes?” he barks at the man.

The bouncer has mixed feelings about that guy. Of course, he looks unbecoming to say at least, but he’s not filthy and neither he does smell bad. There’s also nothing weird about his face. It’s completely forgettable, neither attractive or ugly. Long and thin, just like his body and limbs. A short stubble of facial hair, shaggy, short brown hair, prominent nose and tired, almost black eyes.

“I think I’m going inside for some gambling,” the limping man replies with a gruff voice. He seems not to be afraid of the big thug at all.

Subconsciously, the bouncer wants to get rid of the man, mainly because he just doesn’t belong here. His youthful appearance, however, can offer a reason to kick him out. “May I see your ID, please?” the bouncer requests curtly. “I am not allowed to let in anyone under the age of twenty-one.”

Annoyed, the man reaches into his pocket and hands the guard his ID card. The bouncer notices his name: Skellinger, Parker. Twenty-three years old. Parker receives his ID back, secretly enjoying the distress he caused. Inside, he’s laughing at the bouncer’s attempts to get rid of him. Outside, his face stays emotionless.

Sure, Parker is wearing a hoodie with a logo of some metal band almost nobody knows, well-worn jeans and durable army boots. However, he made sure the casino has no official dress code before he decided to go inside. The bouncer has no valid reason not to let him in.

The heavy finally gives up and steps aside, making room for Parker. “Thanks,” Parker utters and hands the man a five-dollar bill, confusing the bouncer even more. Then he walks in, his boots resting on the red carpet which covers the floor.

The casino’s inside is a display of luxury, just like the outside. There are men in suits everywhere, chatting, playing a variety of games the casino offers, drinking fine liquor and, if they have no official escort, flirting with waitresses dressed in splendid Roman gowns.

More and more people stare at Parker as he limps towards the big poker table made of heavy, dark wood like most of the furniture in the casino. Some with revulsion, some with amusement. Who does he think he is? Probably another lowlife trying to gain a fortune by gambling. It won’t take long and he will leave even poorer than he came. That’s how it goes.

To everyone’s surprise, Parker reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of banknotes. “Ten thousand,” he says. “Give me tokens, please.”

The surprised croupier does as Parker requested. The sketchy man nods and continues towards the poker table, now enjoying the attention of the whole casino. The regular visitors play for such amounts of money rather frequently, but nobody expected this particular guy to step up the game like this. The desperate souls are usually willing to bet only about a hundred dollars. However, this guy doesn’t look desperate at all.

His determination and confidence unsettles even the most famous gamblers.

The players around the poker table aren’t playing yet. They are up for a friendly talk and a glass of nice Scotch, enjoying the golden glow of the casino’s interior. Parker takes advantage of it and takes the free seat. The men stop talking immediately. Their body language now shows the man in a black hoodie makes them uncomfortable. However, they don’t ask him to leave. He has money - money they can possibly win from him. One of the men tells the croupier the game can start now.

“Would you like something to drink, Sir?” a waitress asks Parker as she passes by.

“Just a glass of Coke, thank you,” Parker replies, provoking even more mockery from his soon-to-be opponents who all enjoy glasses of fine alcohol.

The wealthy men see Parker and his money as easy prey. After all, they are the elite. The young gentleman wearing a fashionable crew cut is Trinity Gate’s poker champion. The overweight man with a mustache was able to start a renowned company thanks to the money he won in this game. And the remaining three men also aren’t amateurs. It’s something like a VIP club.

It’s no wonder they tend to underestimate Parker. But how justified their feelings are?

Parker would smile at the naivety of the men who play with him (or against him, as it seems the VIP players ganged up to bleed him dry as soon as possible), but he has full control over his facial expression. This is not only a result of countless poker games. He was just born with a natural talent for this.

What the men don’t know is that Parker has no chance of losing as he knows which cards do the men hold. He sees clear images in his mind. His sixth sense, as he calls it, has never betrayed him so far. Acquiring this kind of extrasensory perception was a painful, tormenting experience. So Parker doesn’t consider it wrong to use it for his own benefit, even though some may consider it cheating.

He intentionally lost a few rounds to keep the men’s guard down. They already started to snicker at his apparent lack of skills. But that’s what Parker wants. Calm them down, then strike.

The image in his mind is clearer when he closes his eyes, but he keeps them open to brush off any suspicion closing them may cause. The image is still bright as day. The young upstart has only three-of-a-kind - four of spades, four of diamonds, four of hearts. However, the fat man has a flush - five clubs.

Parker has a straight, so he has to fold and wait for the next opportunity.

It comes soon enough. First, he carefully starts to win some rounds when his hand is good enough. Then he steps up the game and in the end, there is only him, the young gentleman and the fat mustache man playing. The men have started to be suspicious about his skills which seem to get better with every round.

He finishes by going all-in when his pile of tokens is already considerably big. He already knows he has much better cards than both his opponents, so he ends up claiming the whole pot for himself. Not minding the shocked expressions of both men, he casually takes the tokens, exchanges them for dollars and walks away.

By then, he already has the attention of the whole casino. All the gamblers stopped playing for a while to witness the local poker champions getting obliterated by a random kid who came here for the first time. Before leaving, Parker generously tips the waitress who gave him the Coke he requested - the girl stares at the ten hundred-dollar bills in her hand in disbelief.

Nobody objects. This weird guy won the money fair and square… at least that’s what they think.

Parker’s sixth sense reveals everything. Which gamblers are armed. Who and what are they texting if they are on their phones - that guy over here with a young woman by his side definitely isn’t at work despite texting this lie to his wife. He’s aware of all hidden security cameras. To some degree, he’s also able to sense the mood and intentions of the people staring at him.

If he ever talked about his supernatural abilities, he would find it hard to explain them to a person confined to their basic five senses. They became a natural extension of himself. He sees things without his eyes, hears without his ears. That way, he can perceive things hidden from other people.

Some people notice the tattoo around his wrist. It’s a chain of five symbols - a circle, a square, a star, a plus sign and three wavy lines. Some of them recognize them as the symbols present on the so-called Zener cards which are used in the research of extrasensory perception. It could give them an idea about the true nature of this guy’s otherworldly luck, but they are all too hesitant to accept there is an actual psychic among them.

Parker finally steps out of the casino and slides the bouncer who let him in another pack of banknotes. Then he disappears God knows where.

Even though he’s gone, the other gamblers still find themselves unable to enjoy their night out as much as before. They have to constantly think about the young man who just invaded their territory, humiliated local champions, won a great sum of money and left like nothing happened.

The ones affected the most are, naturally, the two men who lost their money and dignity to Parker. They worked hard to earn the respect of the community and now, this random stranger made them a laughing matter. Some of their friends have already started to mock them for losing to such a lowlife.

The young businessman and the fat man with a mustache, who are best friends through thick and thin, exchange looks. They know there’s only one way left to regain their reputation. They don’t even start a new game. The duo just pays for their drinks, leaving a generous tip, then leaves the casino.

Parker can finally put a smile on his face as he counts the money he won from these two upstarts. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. It’s not that Parker is a poor man - he already has about a million dollars locked in a strongbox in his trailer. This isn’t the first splendid poker victory he achieved.

However, because of these magnificent victories, he can’t visit the same casino twice. He knows that the renowned gamblers tend to hold grudges against weird guys who just show up and scoop the pot, even if they (at least seemingly) play fair. When it comes to big money, a lot of people turn into sore losers.

Parker walks down the alley which is almost empty during this hour. This is not his first time in Trinity Gate - he grew attached to this place since it offers the best of all three American territories in just one city. When he turns around, he can see heavy industrial buildings, factories and functional high-rise buildings which can be found in most of the major cities in the Central Confederation.

However, if he drove a few kilometers to the northwest, he would end up among vast fields, greenhouses and ecological houses typical for the Commonwealth of Great Moors. And a look to the northeast offers a skyline of futuristic white skyscrapers of the Republic of Northeast.

The city of Trinity Gate was built near the end of the second civil war to serve as a neutral ground for negotiation. Now it consists of three districts, one for each territory, and the “Core” which is completely neutral. A simple map of the city resembles the Google Chrome logo.

Trinity Gate is located at the point where Indiana, Ohio and Kentucky meet. After the United States divided, Indiana joined the Great Moors while the Confederation claimed Kentucky and the Northeast got Ohio. However, that’s all Parker knows since he’s not much into politics.

He already started to make plans for the rest of the night. He will probably drive to the Great Moors district to get something good to eat. Since the Great Moors are mostly agricultural territory, their food has the highest possible quality and is always fresh.

The food here, in the Confederation district, usually tastes like military rations. What can you expect from a heavily industrial, militant area which is like a bomb with a short fuse?

As Parker walks through the park which is basically just an alley with trees and several benches, his sixth sense warns him. Someone is behind him. Two people. One is slimmer, the other one rather heavy. Parker smirks. His two friends from today’s poker night.

He pretends he’s not aware of them and just walks casually.

Later, he finally hears a voice: “Turn around. Slowly.”

He complies and stands face to face with the young businessman with a butch cut. He has a gun in his head, its muzzle aimed at Parker’s head. The fat guy is behind him, expecting what will come next. “The money,” the younger man hisses. “We know you didn’t play fair. Give them back.”

Parker just smiles at him. “Sore losers, huh? How can you prove I was cheating?”

“The money! Now!” the man barks. Parker stays calm, infuriating him even more. The man’s finger is trembling on the trigger and his face turned red. Wow, I guess I really pissed him off, Parker thinks.

“How are you gonna force me with an empty gun?” Parker asks casually.

The suited man cocks the gun. “What are you talking about? It’s loaded and ready to blow your fucking head away. Are you really gonna risk your life for some money?”

“I’d give you the money if you had some actual ammo in that guy, but if you don’t even bother to load that gun, I can only tell you to piss off,” Parker utters without a sign of nervousness in his voice.

“So you still believe the gun is empty,” the man grins. “Are you willing to bet your life on it?”

Parker shrugs. “If it’s necessary.”

The casino gambler just keeps pointing the gun at Parker’s forehead. Even without his sixth sense, Parker would be able to spot the man’s anxiety - trembling hand, droplets of sweat on his forehead, clenched teeth. “Come on, pull the trigger,” Parker taunts him. “I ain’t gonna give you the money. If the gun is loaded, shoot me.”

No response.

“Come on! Shoot me!” Parker raises his voice. “Prove me I’m wrong!”

The man finally gives up and lowers his gun. “Fuck,” he mutters, furious that this weird guy humiliated him once again. Of course, Parker knew the gun is empty. His sixth sense never disappoints.

Then, the men from the casino hear a rattling sound. The younger man’s face turns pale as he notices an iron chain in Parker’s hand, hanging from his wrist. Parker keeps this weapon wrapped around his forearm in case things get tough. Even though the men are already about to turn tail and leave, Parker can’t turn down some good beating when there are good targets.

He steps forward and cracks the chain like a whip. The young man screams in pain as the chain whips him and creates an ugly gash on his arm and back. Then, Parker turns around and strikes again, this time hitting the man’s head. The man collapses on the concrete pavement.

His overweight companion tries to run away, but Parker swishes the chain again. It wraps itself around the man’s leg. He trips and falls to the ground face first. Parker strikes him with the chain two more times - the metal lands on his back, then on his butt. The man wails in pain as Parker finally turns around and leaves.

“That’s what they deserve,” Parker mutters to himself as he wraps the chain around his forearm again. Then, he forgets about the incident and continues thinking about his late dinner in the Great Moors district.

September 22nd, 9:20 AM, Serenity Park, Trinity Gate

Wiccan Salisbury carefully examines the travel trailer parked in one of the nice parks in the Great Moors district, that kind of park with ponds, playgrounds and decorative fountains. The rising sun shines through the treetops above the man and a gentle wind makes them sway back and forth.

The trailer is large, big enough to substitute a house. He raises his eyebrows when he sees the car which belongs to the trailer - a matte black Jaguar convertible, elegant and beautiful. Definitely not a car for a regular person. It had to cost a fortune.

Wiccan knocks at the trailer’s door.

The resident takes an eternity to open and Wiccan starts to lose patience. He knows someone’s in there since muffled sounds can be heard from the inside. He knocks once again. This time, the resident opens the door.

When the door open, Wiccan hears loud music - soft female vocals accompanied by violins which gradually grow into aggressive screaming and heavy guitar riffs. Then he also sees the resident - a tall, scrawny young man wearing a black hoodie. He has an annoyed expression on his face. He takes a drag on the cigarette in his hand and blows the smoke in Wiccan’s direction.

Then he points somewhere in the distance. “Woodstock is this way, old man,” he says, his voice as annoyed as his face. Then he just slams the door shut.

“Just why did I sign up for dealing with another Skellinger?” Wiccan sighs. The young man’s remark leaves him calm - he’s already used to people making fun of his long dreadlocks and youthful clothes he’s wearing. He knocks on the door again and then two more times until the trailer’s resident opens again, this time angry.

“What the fuck do you want?” he spits out.

“Let’s be polite for a moment, okay?” Wiccan replies. “My name is Wiccan Salisbury. And you are Parker Skellinger, I presume.”

“Mhm,” the young man nods. The metal music still screams in the background, making the talk even harder.

“Let’s say I have a job offer for you,” Wiccan continues.

Parker cackles. “Look, old man. I have this car, this trailer and about a million dollars. What makes you think I’m all eager to get a job? If this is all you wanted, you can piss off.”

The older man tries hard not to snap at the condescending expression and tone of voice of the brat in front of him. Parker takes another puff from the cigarette and once again blows it in Wiccan’s face. “It’s not some kind of everyday job offer,” Wiccan says. “We’re looking for special people with special abilities. And, according to my files, you possess an ability someone might consider unnatural.”

This remark changes Parker’s cocky smirk into glare full of anger and disbelief. “Who the fuck are you?” he hisses. Wiccan smirks; he succeeded at disconcerting this man. Wiccan would never recruit this guy voluntarily - his physical condition isn’t ideal and his attitude is even worse. But he’s one of the few possible recruits roaming close to Trinity Gate, so it seems he has no choice.

“I’m just a man who seeks talented people for a special job. I know you’re a nomade - a guy made for adventures. The job I’m offering you would get you a lot of thrill. And you would also find yourself while doing it. No more pointless roaming and living as an outlaw. We would give your life a purpose.”

“Not interested,” Parker retorts.

“In that case, I have another motivation… and you won’t like it much,” Wiccan looks straight into Parker’s eyes which is enough to unsettle the younger man even more.

 Wiccan opens the folder full of papers he’s carrying. “Okay, Parker,” he says. “See these papers? This is evidence of every fraud, offense and crime you committed since you turned fifteen. We know you cheat in casinos to win money. We know you beat people up from time to time. The minor offenses like speeding or breach of the peace are also there to spice things up a little.”

“Prove it,” Parker barks. His face, however, turned pale. Wiccan knows he’s on the right trail.

“Just yesterday,” the man with dreadlocks reads from one of the papers. “You cheated in the Casino Northstar in the Confederation district to win a large sum of money. Then you used a chain to injure two men.”

“It was a self-defense!” Parker objects. “They had a gun!”

“Maybe it could be taken this way… but what about this?” Wiccan takes another sheet of paper. “About a month ago, St. Louis, the Great Moors territory. An armed robbery. Parker, you’re a really naughty boy. You cause trouble wherever you go.”

“How do you know?” Parker blurts and Wiccan smiles in satisfaction when he hears the panic in his voice.

“Well, we have means the FBI can dream about. We know about every move you make, every website you visit, every thing you buy. So let’s make a deal. If you don’t come with me, I would have to hand this folder to the police. And trust me, I can make them follow you wherever you go until they catch you - we have a million ways to track you. You wouldn’t have peace for the rest of your life. But if you agreed to go with me…”

Parker’s face scowls in anger. “Are you blackmailing me?”

Wiccan shrugs. “Call it whatever you want - I need you to come with me and we can both benefit from that. These files say you’re intelligent. Reckless, yeah. An asshole, definitely. But you’re smart. And if that’s true, you’re not going to refuse. Not when I can offer you something much better than years behind the bars.”

The younger man still doesn’t look convinced. “How can I trust you?”

Wiccan comes up with his trump card. “I used to know your older brother.”

Parker’s face grows cold once again. “I don’t have a brother,” he says with such ire in his voice even Wiccan backs off. The older man realizes it probably wasn’t the best idea to mention Gerard Skellinger, the former member of Team Menhir.

The man has to find a way to get Parker on his side again. “So I guess your relationship wasn’t really warm… well, Gerard never spoke about his siblings and he isn’t among us anymore, so I guess you can forget what I said.”

Parker frowns. “Not among us anymore? Does that mean he’s…”

“No, not dead. He just left us and went his own way.”

“Leaving people,” a bitter smirk appears on Parker’s face. “That’s what he knows best. Anyway, back to the topic. It seems that I don’t have many choices other than doing what you say, right? Can’t say I’m overjoyed about it, but it can be fun, I guess. Do I have to go right now? Can I take my car with me?”

“No, not right now,” Wiccan says, relieved that he made Parker comply. “I will tell you the exact time and place where you need to be. And having a car is actually a benefit.” Then, when he notices the arrogant smile returning to Parker’s face, he adds: “If you think you’re smart enough to just drive away as soon as I leave, think again. In the second I would find out you didn’t arrive at the meeting, I would inform all the law enforcement units and the hunt would begin.”

The smile on Parker’s face slightly fades, but it seems the young man wouldn’t attempt it anyway. “Understood,” he says. “So when and where?”

Author’s Note

I wholeheartedly thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and if you did, please leave a comment, send me a message or share and let more people know about this story! You can also consider a small donation at www.paypal.me/lukassladky. Have a great day and stay tuned for the next chapter!

@notquitenovelist

[katzuyas]

Towards Fiddler’s Green [18/?]

It's so sudden that Victor can't even scream. Water covers his head, pulls him under, and he fights his way back into the shallows. He could've allowed the water to swallow him, since that would not hurt him, he knows, but Yuuri's words ring true in his mind: he would not be able to fight in the water as well as he can on land.

He draws his knife when his knees hit the wet sand and he spins towards the beast, ready to take it down if it attacks. It's huge, even from this far. Victor trembles at the sight of it. It's body coils through the waves like a giant serpent, but the head… oh. That is the most terrifying of all. Horns split upward of a triangular head, coiled and sharp, matching the sharpness of the teeth as long which are as Victor's legs and just as thick. They gleam in the moonlight when the creature opens its jaws to strike.

And strike it does.

But not at Victor.

Despite the size of its body, the monster moves with surprising agility and speed. One moment Victor sees it risen out of the water, but the next its jaws are snapping at an adversary Victor has yet to see in the dark waters.

Relief floods him, so he backs deeper onto the beach. At least while the monster is busy it won't turn its eyes to him. Victor turns away from the fight and kicks sand into the fire to snuff it out. There is no need to alert the monster of his presence here, no need to gain its attention with something as silly as a forgotten fire.

But fire is the smallest of his worries, Victor learns. For as soon as it dies, he realizes that his position will be betrayed to no matter where he goes. His wrist, the one which he cut to promise himself to his husband, glows golden like a beacon guiding lost ships to port. And like that, too, it will guide the monster right to Victor.

Cursing, Victor rips a piece of cloth from the bottom of his shirt to wrap around his wrist. It muffles the light somewhat, but not enough. It still shines through the material and Victor fearfully looks back to the sea.

And it's then that his heart freezes in his chest.

Because there, among the crashing waves, Victor sees the shape he could recognize anywhere. Dark tentacles, dark hair, a golden glow among the darkness of the night… it's Yuuri. It has to be.

And the great monster lunges at him with its terrifying teeth.

Victor's startled cry dies halfway out of his throat when Yuuri dodges the attack.

No, he thinks to himself, knife clutched hard in his hand. No, no, no. This can't be happening.

But it is. Powerless, Victor stands on the beach, watching how Yuuri ducks around the monster. He's fast, yes, and for now he seems to be doing well against an adversary of superior build, but Victor knows this can't last. Yuuri will tire. His instincts will dull. He will slow down, and then–

Victor cannot think of what will happen then. He doesn't want to and he doesn't get to. He blinks, only once, and that is enough for those insidious thoughts to become reality. His worst fears come to life right before his eyes and he can do nothing else but watch.

The serpent strikes again.

Yuuri shoots to the side, avoids the teeth, but the monster isn't as stupid as one could think.

While Yuuri swims around its jaws, the great neck twists around and the sharp horns pierce right through him.

Victor's heart freezes inside his chest like a lump of ice and drops into his belly where it melts into dread. Before he can do or think anything other than 'No, please–', the serpent rears its head back in victory and throws Yuuri's body – wet, bleeding, unmoving – into the deep sea. It gives a triumphant roar and, coiling through the waves, disappears into the night.

He'll sink, Victor thinks urgently. Yuuri will sink. Victor needs to save him. He needs to go and pull him out and– The wound, Victor remembers, near tears. He'll need to dress the wound, close it, stop the bleeding– But for that he needs to move, he needs to go, he needs to–

His feet refuse to move.  

"Move, damn it," Victor curses himself, but even then when he hits his thigh with his fist, he feels nothing and his legs remain rooted to the ground. "Why? Why can't I move?!"

He knows why. All his life he's been trained to help the helpless, to rescue those who needed him. And now when someone truly needs him, when he needs to be his best self and save not an unknown person of unknown origin but his own husband, who Victor has no doubt fought the serpent monster to keep Victor safe on the island, Victor cannot help him.

It's cruel, he thinks, this fate.

But if it is his fate to stand there helpless, Victor doesn't want it. In all his life, he has never been one to trust his fate blindly. And he will not be doing it now, he decides.

So he fights the fear, swallows down every drop of it that closes up his throat, and he moves. The first step is hard, the second just as much, but the more of them he takes, the easier it becomes. His heart awakens then, too. It breathes life into his lungs, urgency into his veins, and so– Victor runs. He jumps into the water and without waiting a second longer to transform, he swims towards where he'd seen Yuuri sink.

And then he dives in deep.

His lungs hurt until he takes his first breath underwater. It's easier to swim once the change takes hold, but his chest hurts with every breath no matter the ease. Victor flaps his tail to go deeper, faster, harder. Everything is dark, but he can see well thanks to his mer eyes. It only helps that the bonding mark on his wrists lights up the ocean depths before him as he scurries down to find Yuuri.

The descent takes longer than he wants, far too long. Victor tries not to think of Yuuri's body slowly bleeding out on the ocean floor. He doesn't wish to even consider the possibility that sharks may have already been drawn to him, that they could have already divided the body into parts–

Victor's heart hammers in his chest and the blood rings in his ears when he finally spots his husband. He's slumped against a rock on the very bottom, head tilted at an angle that sends a shiver of dread down Victor's spine. Victor swims up to him, taking in the wound torn in his side. It's bleeding blood so dark that it looks black in the faint glow of their bonding marks.

That glow, in the face of everything else, is the only thing that still gives Victor some hope. If it's glowing, it must mean that Yuuri still isn't dead. If it's glowing, there's still a chance to resolve everything that went wrong.

Gently, Victor touches Yuuri's cheek, checks his pulse beneath his jaw. He can't feel anything. Maybe it's nerves, maybe it's mer biology, Victor can't tell. He knows he has to close the wound somehow, but here, at the bottom of the ocean, he doesn't know how. He has no idea how merfolk treat their wounded or whether it's safe to bring Yuuri to shore. His hands shake as he hovers next to his undoubtedly dying husband, as helpless as he was on the beach when he watched him fight.

The flicker of golden light on his wrist catches his eye. The mark flickers again, so Victor quickly unties the scrap he used to block its glow. True enough, it does so once more as if in warning.

Hurry, it seems to say.

Victor doesn't think twice about what to do then. If he does nothing, Yuuri will die for certain. If he tries to stop the bleeding here, Yuuri will most likely die as well, since there is nothing here to help Victor succeed. If he brings Yuuri onto the shore… the possibility of him dying is there, too, but in Victor's mind it's by far his best option.

So that's what he does. He slings Yuuri's unconscious body over his back and ties his wrists so that he doesn't slip. And then he lifts his head towards where the moon shines on the water and swims towards the surface as fast as he can.

Every flap of his tail makes him aware of the time that passes, every breath he takes of the breaths that Yuuri doesn't. But Victor grits his teeth and he keeps on swimming, because it's the only thing he can do now to save him. It's the only thing he can do to keep what is left of his own bleeding heart.

When they finally break the surface, he's already exhausted, but he hauls Yuuri's body onto the sand, making sure that none of his legs touches the water. He doesn't know mer biology enough to help Yuuri like he is now, no. He knows human biology enough to be able to treat him when he changes, though. That is his only chance.

Yuuri's body changes before his eyes. And before his eyes, as well, blood from the open wound in Yuuri's side pours into the sand, dark and thick and sticky. Victor wastes no time in pulling the shirt off his back and ripping it into pieces. He grabs the robe that he left behind on the beach and presses it to the wound, keeping it in place by wrapping it with his ripped shirt. Only then does he rest Yuuri on the sand itself.

There isn't time, he knows, but he leans their foreheads together.

"Stay with me, Yuuri," he begs. "You promised, and I need you to keep that promise now more than ever."

The faint breath on his wet lips is his only reply, but that… that is enough. For now.

So Victor picks himself up, hope pushing his tired limbs past their limits, and he runs inland to find what he'll need to keep his husband alive. 

if you’re curious to know what happens or you NEED TO KNOW IF YUURI LIVES you can pledge to my patreon and read the next chapter tonight for only $1!

[bailesu]

Another story excerpt for Ladies Legendarium April 2019

This is another excerpt from Neon Genesis Silmarillion, in which Rei brings down the wrath of Findulias on her head.  World Two in this is the world of dreams.

Long so it’s below a cut.

Rei’s fea slipped silently through World Two, forcing it into the form of a forest where every clearing was a dream or a story or a myth.  Long trails connected them together in ways that even she often could not predict, though her ring guided her always towards what she thought. She usually made it a sea, but feared she might encounter Lars and this trip, she had to make alone.

The trees parted, becoming a mixture of beech and maple trees with many flowers scattered about in small clumps, white, red, and blue.  The blue flowers smelled like honey and Rei couldn’t stop herself kneeling and sniffing one of them, before moving on.

She’d already been to several places tonight, but this was her second to last stop.  Two people walked together under the trees, a tall dark haired man who bore a black blade at his hip and a blonde woman, slender and tall, though a touch shorter than the man.  They both wore fancy clothing of a kind you would not wear into the woods normally, or so Rei assumed.  But they knew no fear as they walked together; she carried a wicker basket, out of which a wine bottle peeked its neck and cork.

Rei could see the way each moved, his long strides eating up the ground, then slowing down so he didn’t leave her behind, her moving with a slow, sinuous grace which Rei had only ever seen in professional dancers.  Or Hedda and Shinobu.  

Rei could not help but try to imitate it, studying how she moved; there was a confidence in it and a beauty.  Her smile was wide and trusting in a way Rei didn’t think she’d ever experienced herself.  Maybe when she was little.  Before her great mistake.

But she had been terrible then.

The man smiled, but it did not touch his eyes.  They were alert, darting about; she felt safe, but he did not.  He turned every so often to smile at her, to chivvy her into moving quicker, but his hand always hovered near the hilt of his blade.  She was innocent and his innocence died long ago and Rei felt a sudden ache for him.

Was there any man more tragic than this?  For this was Turin Turambar, one of the greatest of elf-friends among mortal men but also the most broken.  In him, the Elves saw all their own flaws and strengths. Wise and strong and brave and honest, a man who was above petty lusts and hungers.  But rising above  the physical sins of men did not protect them or him from the spiritual sins and those sins could do far more damage.  

His pride and hubris had destroyed everything he loved and even things he merely liked.  Friend and foe alike had been dragged down to ruin.

And somehow, he had turned Finduilas from her destiny to fall in love with him, though he did not love her as a man may love a woman, but only as a brother loves a sister.  How?  How could destiny go so astray?  How could he evoke in her what he did not feel himself?

Rei had to understand.  Her desires warred with her will and with each other and she had to understand.  There must be someone meant for me, she thought.  Yet I feel these desires for people who could not be the one.  And not even for one person who is not the one, but *many*. How could my heart be so fickle, she wondered.  It horrified her.

Turin froze and then pulled Finduilas close to him, nearly mashing her face into his chest and though he could not see it, Rei could see her turn a little red, her eyes widening.  Her lips began to move and then he drew his sword.  It let forth a happy groan like a hungry man shown a feast.  The sound of it made Rei shiver, though she quickly stilled herself.  “Show yourself!” he said angrily.  “None shall threaten the Princess of Nargothrond and live!”

“Turin,” Finduilas said softly; a human would never have heard her joy, but Rei did with her keen Eldar hearing.  

And now that she was no longer lost in her own thought, Rei heard other movement among the trees.  She remained still; interacting with the environment would draw her in and turn events off down a new road and she did not have time to wait for this tale to reset itself.

Nevertheless, she touched Orcrist, just in case.  It was ready to her use, slung on her hip.  And she now changed her clothing into NERV style armor. Then she drew out the blade, just a little and it glowed blue.

Slowly, Turin backed up, still holding Finduilas close to his flesh, turning back and forth to watch for danger, as she clung to  him and moved in perfect unison with him.  It was almost like a dance and seeing their ease together made Rei’s heart ache, knowing their doom and knowing there was none she could be so at ease with, though there were people she cared for, people she was attracted to.

Even with her mother, they were not that close, not in the way these two knew each other’s every move.  How could that not be love?  How could Turin reject that?  Why did he not love her?  Why had he turned instead to his own sister?

Did she do something wrong?  Was his destiny so strong?  And why a destiny of self-destruction?  How could such suffering be bound into the fate of the world?

Then there was a roar and a large lizard creature rushed out of the trees, its scales glittering in the sunlight, red and orange with a long black stripe down its back where it had huge triangular spikes along its spine and down its long tail.  Rei estimated it was nearly as long as four grown men placed head to foot.  It reminded Rei of a stegosaurus, but its mouth had teeth for chewing meat, not the flat plant crushers of a normal one.  She felt proud of herself for recognizing that; she’d been trying to improve her biological knowledge.  

Asuka probably would have known from the roar, Rei thought, and she frowned and forced herself out of her own head.

“Up,” Turin said to Finduilas, who kicked off her slippers and ran to the tree, pulling out a length of rope and tying one end to the basket. Then she threw one end of it at a higher branch; it looped around the branch, somehow tying itself and then she used it to help her fumblingly climb the tree, after which she pulled the basket up after herself.

Turin dodged the creature’s first rush and the glob of black liquid it spat at him which hit a tree and began searing away its bark.  His blade parted the scales on one side of it, and it bled more of the black fluid, though this ran clear and slow instead of being mixed with mucous.  Then it cracked itself like a whip and its tail hit Turin, flinging him into a tree, though it bled more when it did so.

Turin bled now, but as he rose, a light shone in his eyes and he sneered. “Spawn of Morgoth, you will find I am not so easily put an end to.”

“Turin, you’re hurt,” Finduilas announced, horrified.

Rei twitched, feeling the urge, the instinct to intervene.  But she would not.  This was only a tale which told itself over and over here, and she would see it through to the end.

The tree it had spat on began to shake; the acid was fading now but it had turned a large chunk of the tree into sludge.  Turin leaped and kicked the tree and it fell down onto the creature, which began trying to get out from under it, spitting acid wildly until it could spit no more and as it did, Turin scampered through the branches, stabbing it repeatedly.

But then it threw off the tree and Turin tumbled again and the creature rushed at him as he rose, then realized he had dropped his moaning blade.

Rei had never seen or even heard of this specific tale before and did not know how it ended.  How could he survive this?  

Unless she acted, but then she would be drawn in.

He was only a dream.  Not real.

He ran for his sword, but the creature was quicker; only it using up its acid spit was saving him right now.  But its powerful limbs ate up the ground and there would be no escape for Turin.

But this was not how the story went and Rei did not understand.   He could not die at the hands of some random failed effort at making a dragon, or whatever it was.  Some twisted creature of the earliest days drawn to Morgoth’s service?  Some petty spirit descended to animal wrath?

Shouldn’t she have guards?  She was a princess, what was she doing wandering around in the woods away from home with only Turin by her side, anyway???

Finduilas looked horrified; she was crying and her body shook; Rei could feel her guilt with the ring and she understood.  Finduilas had wanted privacy with Turin, so she’d arranged for them to go off alone and now he was paying the price.

I should not intervene, Rei told herself.  If I step in, it changes the story and I will not be able to understand.

Time seemed to slow itself; Rei’s imagination drew arrows, showing how and where the monster would reach Turin.  Far short of his far-flung blade, which was now stuck into a tree.

He would die.  But he would gladly die to defend her, though she was not the one.  Not as he saw it.

She saw Jet Alone fighting Tiamat, all her heads chewing into it, tearing it apart, Pilot Rousseau risking everything to stop Tiamat and protect her.  HER.  When he was a human and could not return to this world if he died, while she was expendable.  If she died, her fea remained bound to this world and would take new flesh.  But if he died, she would never see him again.

Rei could not sit and watch this happen again.

Flesh rippled here, for her form was only the reflection of her will.  She became taller and stronger, much taller, though not as much stronger as she’d expected, her skin now tanned instead of pale, her blue hair turning long and brown.  She hid Orcrist within an illusion and summoned forth a bow and took aim, putting an arrow where the creature’s eyes would soon be.  The eye burst like a balloon, white and black fluids mixing and oozing down its face and then Turin stopped short, falling hard into the ground but the creature, unable to stop its charge, rushed past him and collided with a tree, which fell, knocking down another, but even as it rose, Turin scampered over and seized his blade.

Then the creature turned and rushed at Rei, though she no longer resembled herself.  To do this was dangerous, for you could lose yourself in the role.  She rarely did it, and especially not as a man.  But he was the first archer she thought of, and one adept to this tale.

She shot out its other eye, then scrambled into a tree, holding herself still, while it stalked around, trying to feel out vibrations she suspected.  She gestured at Turin to stop moving even as he started over.  He stared at her, mouth open wide, eyes unable to blink and she put a finger to her lips.

This would hurt him so much.

He was just a dream.

She had to do *something*.

It was too late now, the die was cast.  

The creature began to thrash, striking trees, and Rei began to leap between trees, letting the creature hit them and using it as cover for her own leaps.  Soon she was close to Turin and she secured rope from her pack on the branch and let Turin climb up to her.  

“Beleg… how…”  Turin shivered and looked ill, glancing at him but unable to look him in the face.

“Turin, my friend, we are bound to this world. When we die, we pass to the Halls of Mandos, where we rest until new flesh is given to us.  We do not pass out of this world as you will one day,” Rei said urgently to him.  She had not intended to put a hand on his shoulder but she did anyway.  Taking on a role was dangerous.  It was easy to trap yourself in it until the dream reached its end.  “And so I have returned.”

The creature continued to thrash around, smashing trees, but slowly wandering away from them.  Carefully, they moved tree to tree, Turin still shaking, until they reached where Finduilas sat on a branch, holding the wine bottle.

“Turin!” she cried out and embraced him.

And now the creature turned and began to come their way, faster and faster.  “Beleg, get her to safety, I will deal with this foul beast,” Turin said determinedly.

“Turin, you should…” Rei began.

“I will not lose you again,” Turin said fiercely and cried like all the demons of hell as he launched himself through the air, sword in his hand, his voice matching its howling, master and blade united in purpose.

Rei lifted Finduilas and began to leap tree to tree, crossing distances she could not in her own body; this form was so powerful, though it felt so strange to be a man.  But even Touji did not make the leaps she could here.  The air was full of spiritual power; was it just that this was itself a dream within World Two?

The creature thrashed around, and then Gurthang, Turin’s blade, struck, severing the creature’s spine and rendering it paralyzed behind. It threw Turin aside but now it could only drag itself and Turin recovered, attacking its rear, hacking and stabbing and slicing as it tried too slowly to turn, until finally, it died.

Then he stumbled back and fell, laying in mashed, torn grass, crushing flowers beneath him and laughing and crying at once, looking as if he had gone utterly mad.

“Turin!” Finduilas cried and tried to leap from Rei’s arms, but Rei restrained Finduilas, who she suspected couldn’t handle the jump.

Instead, Rei leaped lightly to the ground and then released Finduilas to run forward and embrace him.  “Turin, Turin, Turin!”

Rei tried to figure out what to do.  The dream would likely not reset tonight.  She’d already wrecked its course.  She had other things to do.  But to just vanish on him… that was not an option either.

Even if he wasn’t real.

“I’m here.  I must be lost in some delusion,” Turin said, holding her tightly and bleeding on her a little, for his wounds had grown worse from his exertion.  “I thought Beleg was here, my sin undone.  Its wound must have been poisonous.”  He cried on her shoulder and it made Rei squirm to see it.  “Beleg,” he cried out in agony.

But it also gave her an opening to slip away.  

She was starting to do so when she suddenly heard Finduilas’ voice echoing in the heavens.  Older and much angrier.  WHO ARE YOU?

Rei had a sudden sinking feeling.  This wasn’t a dream spawned of myth or the memories of the Eldar.  Not a normal one.  Finduilas, the real one, who yet lived in Valinor, had made this by accident or by choice and by ill-chance or fate, Rei had stumbled into it.

Which was why she’d never heard of this story at all before.

She kept up the role; it would hide her identity and she could shed it for another once she reached another dream and hide there.  Or try to make it to some other safe haven.  Hopefully, her foe would not have the lore to chase her far.

Then she ran but now vines reached out for her and trees moved to obstruct her path, and the edge of the dream, once so close, moved away as her foe fought her effort to escape.  She could hear footsteps, someone running after her, and the sun set and the stars came out.  But she could see well by starlight, well enough to reach the edge of the dream as her foe pursued her and burst through it with the help of Orcrist.  Her foe cried out in frustration, but then shouted again in anger.

She made World Two a sea and found a sailing ship onto which she leaped and whistled up a wind, setting out to sea.  But now she could see another such ship sail after her and it was faster than hers.

However, the ship also wobbled about in the wind; it was clear that while Finduilas was strong, she was not as experienced with ships as Rei, though Rei’s experience was almost entirely in dreams.

But this was the sea in which all dreams were islands, just as the forest had all dreams as clearings and the mountains all dreams as mountain peaks or valleys.  

She sent out clarion calls for aid, knowing that eventually Finduilas would find some way to twist this to her advantage.  She looked older than the dream and far angrier and she dressed more for the hunt than the palace.  But Rei knew it was her and now felt both guilty and desperate.

She will take me back to Valinor and I will never be allowed to return, Rei knew.  She could not bear to abandon everyone.  

She cut through several sailing dreams, including the middle of some sort of major yacht race, but Finduilas continued to grow closer, relentlessly moving in on her.  They were only a few lengths apart and Finduilas was shouting angrily at her in Sindarin.  But Rei could only somewhat understand it, as she’d not studied it enough; within a dream, she could understand any language, though not in the waking. It was part of her talent.

And then, distantly, she saw a light, shining silver in the distance, and felt power coming her way.  She made for it, hoping it was Lars or Mother or anyone.  

Suddenly, there was a reef in her path and she nearly beached herself on it, forcing her to dodge.  Finduilas smiled grimly and went right through it and now rocks and other hazards kept appearing, forcing Rei to dodge and weave while they parted harmlessly for her pursuer, who continued to shout angrily at her.

And Rei realized she’d lost her role; her true self was open for the world to see.  She wasn’t even sure when she’d lost it.  

But she made for the light, her only hope.

And then a giant eagle suddenly dove down out of the sun, where neither she nor Finduilas had been able to see it and seized Rei even as her ship foundered.  Hikari, clad in NERV armor, rode on its back and Rei could see a long silver line of light running from her to Lars’ ship, where Lars stood at the helm and her mother at the front of the ship, holding her ring up like a beacon, silver light parting the seas before them as she came on.

Finduilas shouted something about Manwe in utter shock and then the eagle dropped Rei onto the deck of the ship and landed; Hikari embraced him around the neck and whispered in his ear and they circled over the ship, still leashed to it by the thin silver thread which tied to Rei’s mother’s ring.

“Name yourself!” Rei’s mother shouted, her voice churning over the turbulent, shallow ocean.  Her Quenya had a strong Japanese accent and the emphasis was all wrong.  

Finduilas stood at the helm of her ship, standing defiantly in turn.  Rei could see her better now that she had time to think; green and brown hunting garb had become green robes and there was a crown on Finduilas’ brow, silver set with a yellow topaz, an opal, and a brown chalcedony.  She wore a ring on her left ring finger, a gold band set with an opal which matched the one in her crown.   “I am Finduilas, daughter of King Orodreth of Nargothrond and Queen Vanimawen of Nargothrond.  I claim descent from both Noldor and Vanyar,” Finduilas said.  “Name yourself!”

“I hight Nolwecuruni,” Rei’s mother said and Rei started, staring at her.  Only now did she see her mother wore a long yellow dress of several layers with black trim; only a few hints showed the innermost layer was brown.  She wore a pointed, broad brimmed hat and stood now with a staff in one hand.  “I am the Good Witch of the East!”

Rei felt a memory tickle her, books she’d read as a child and the movie.  She could not help but smile and now she touched her mother’s mind and joined her strength to hers.  Her fear was gone now.

“I will not excuse anyone who harasses my daughter!” Rei’s mother shouted, striking the deck with her staff and thunder echoed above as clouds began to form. “Return to your own lands, intruder!”

“You invaded my haven and played with my emotions for your own amusement!” Finduilas said angrily in Quenya.  “You began this, but I will finish it!”

And then she began to sing and the storm grew uglier and marched against them and Rei sang back, her mother giving her strength and now the sea became a turbulent mess.  But Lars’ steady hand rode before the storm and Hikari’s eagle glided through the winds, guided by her sight, and now the waves rose against Finduilas’ ship and she looked sore amazed.

Rei’s talent and Ritsuko’s power was too much for her, and now Finduilas turned her ship around and ran before the wind, fleeing across the world of dreams.

“Let her go,” Rei said softly, sighing and sagging against her mother. “She is right, I hurt her feelings because I could not hold back from meddling.”

“Rei, why did you go seeking her dreams?  And I thought Eldar didn’t normally dream,” Rei’s mother said, sounding angry and confused.

“I did not intend it to be a dream with anyone *in* it.  I just needed to understand,” Rei said weakly.

“It’s okay,” Lars said, hand on her shoulder. “You’re safe now.”

“Rei, you need to be careful; we cannot afford to lose you,” Rei’s mother said chidingly to Rei, who stared at the deck, shuffling on her feet and slumping.  

Hikari now landed on the deck and dismounted, embracing her steed, who now rose and flew away after Hikari fed him a fish.  “Rei, are you okay?” she said, worried.

“I am fine, I merely stuck my head in a lion’s mouth,” Rei said ruefully. “She outmastered me at my own skill,” Rei said.  Her head slumped.  “Again,” she whispered.

“Shinobu could never come here and do this,” Rei’s mother said comfortingly, patting Rei’s shoulder.  “Lars, let’s go home.” She turned to Rei. “I could never have reached you without Lars’ help.  I would be lost and probably stuck watching Misato sleep with someone or something even worse.”  She rubbed her forehead, nearly knocking her hat off.

Rei still felt frustrated.  There is something I must be doing wrong and I do not even know what, she thought.  But she took her mother’s hand and held it, then kissed Lars softly.  “Thank you, Lars, you are always the rock on which I can depend.”

He smiled warmly, though there was a sadness in his eyes.  “You too, Rei. Let’s get us home.”

She went with him to guide them home.

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

Celeborn was woken from his nightly reverie by one of his servants. “Sir, Lady Finduilas wishes to speak to you urgently.”

“At this hour?” he said groggily.  

“She says it is very urgent, sir, but did not trust any of us enough to tell us why.”  He sounded annoyed by this.  Aseaquetta was a brown-haired Noldor; it felt odd to Celeborn to be served by one of the Noldor but he had attracted some after his coming to Valinor.  

News of Galadriel, perhaps, Celeborn thought.  He could very dimly feel her and what little he could feel seemed to indicate she was not in any danger or sorrow.  “Very well,” he said and threw on a robe; he didn’t want to be seen in his nightclothes, especially since in the current heat wave, he was mostly naked, which was undignified.

Then he went to the viewing room where the strange lens device was mounted on a small, high table.  “Hello, niece,” he said to her; she was in her night clothes to his surprise, though she still wore that ring.  He never knew if he respected her devotion or considered her a fool to cling to the impossible.  Both, maybe.

“I encountered a ringbearer with an active ring,” she said urgently. “You must check on Nenya.”

“Go,” he told Aseaquetta, who ran off deeper into the house.

“Tell me of this ringbearer,” he said, and listened to her tale as Aseaquetta ran off.  By the time she finished, he returned.

“It still slumbers without a hint of light or power,” Aseaquetta said calmly.

Celeborn felt muscles he hadn’t known were tense now relax.  Finduilas let out a deep sigh, rocking on her heels.  “So she spoke strangely accented Quenya and had an Elven daughter when she herself was human,” he said slowly, thinking.

“She may have been one of us as well, but I could not tell; she did not feel like us, but she had the power of one, at least with her Ring. Enough to out-master me, though it might be different in the waking,” Finduilas said, starting to pace, slowly and deliberately; physically, she still looked like an Elf of the first stage of life, yet in some ways acted like one of the third stage.  She was an oddity in Elven society in that way.

“Some small part of my brain wonders if this is somehow Sauruman, who I know tried to make his own ring,” Celeborn speculated.  “Perhaps he has returned and begun making rings.”

They both grimaced at that thought.

“So you think that whether or not she is Eldar, her ‘daughter’ is,” Celeborn said hesitantly, wanting to be sure he understood.

“And versed in the lore of Irmo and Lorien, if not able to handle me.  But she knew enough to know how best to drive a spike into Turin’s heart, even if he was only a dream,” Finduilas said angrily, then sighed.  “Go ahead and lecture me now.”

“Not tonight,” Celeborn said.  He missed Galadriel’s presence; she would know what to do.  

Morefindesse was very slender with long raven locks of hair, elaborately coiffed; she was always concerned with fashion and dress.  She now came into sight, fancily dressed despite it being the middle of the night, and now she began to brush out Finduilas’ tangled hair.

“I had best go and contact the others, to see if anyone knows anything,” Finduilas said, sighing. “Good night, Uncle.”

“Good night, my niece,” he told her and soon was back in bed, wondering what was going on here.

[huntressthewizard]

🌿➳ Blood. That was her blood. Written as a message of warning on the now destroyed crypt. Bill had been watching the entire time and like an idiot she had been none the wiser. Feeling faint, the druid leaned against the overgrown tomb, still recovering from her three days without sleep. Crisply darkened fingers gingerly traced over the small triangular drawing. Yes, it was definitely her blood. She was just about to question how he did this before glancing at her arm, finding a deep enough cut to do the trick. But Cipher wasn’t corporeal, not yet, anyway, surely he didn’t do this directly and by himself. Feeling her right eye twitch, the back of her uninjured hand came to rub it, and when she saw more blood when she brought it away, she concluded what had happened. Bill somehow gained access to possessing her body.

      “Whoa bro, what happened out here?” Startled by the sudden voice, Huntress turned around, staring wide-eyed at a lumpy-space person who had seemingly appeared from nowhere, hovering over the tomb as she inspected it.

      “Oh dude, did you do this? I tell ya, not too keen on people coming into these two-thousand year old ruins just to lump the place up. Thought that trap on the bridge woulda kept you vandals away. Not cool, dude.”

      Huntress Wizard stared at the Lumpy woman for a moment, brow arched. “Wait, trap? You’re telling me you’re the one who set up that master-level illusion on the cobblestone bridge leading to the island?” She found it a bit hard to believe, Lumpy Space People weren’t exactly very well-disciplined nor inclined to learn advanced magic.

      The other woman poked her lips out in a pout, putting her hands on her hips at the half-dryad’s skepticism. “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice, bro, I know a lot more about spellcraft than most of the supposed wizards who come here, and it looks to me like you’ve got a serious case of magicka burn on your fingers, dude.”

     The wizard stared at her fingers, blackened with purple cracks of light underneath, like veins of a volcano under an obsidian ashen crust. Even with the necromancer’s amulet and the power up received from Cipher, the art was too foul of an unnatural deed for her body to perform. Her brow furrowed, staring at the damage caused by both her and Bill possessing her, then at the warning on the tomb, silent.

      “I’ve got an ointment that’s perfect for that, or at least that’s what the family spellbooks claim. So quit drawing cryptic stuff in your own blood and follow me to the shack, dude. Name’s Rubi, by the way.” The space person motioned for the half-dryad to follow her further into the woods. Huntress, despite her soreness and exhaustion, did so without hesitation.

      The wizard listened to the woman, now known as Rubi Ramirez, talk about the history of the forest and town, and how her family had lived here for generations; about how her ancestors, the human side at least, were avid monster hunters and scholars of the extra-dimensional, and how this gave them a huge advantage when the Mushroom War escalated to bombings and opening dimensional rifts in space and time. While Rubi was married and had many siblings, so far it was only her that decided to stay behind on the island and continue the family research, while the rest of the family went off to pursue other things with their lives.

      Huntress, quite frankly, wasn’t all too interested, but feeling that she had to be polite after intruding onto the island and wrecking the ruins, would nod and let out a “yes, I see,” every now and then, pretending to listen. Rubi seemed friendly enough, and the druid was glad that she didn’t seem to take the destruction of island property too personally, willing to tend to her wounds.  It wasn’t until Huntress attempted to enter the cabin was when they had a problem.

    “Here it is, the Mystery Shack! Come on in, mi casa es usted casa.”

      The shack in question was a dilapidated cabin in the middle of the woods, most likely built and refurbished several times over the centuries, possibly dating back from before the war, like Rubi had said. The wizard began to follow her in, only for some magical forcefield to hit her like concrete in the face and bounced her back off the porch and into the conviniently-placed mud puddle outside the door. 

       Rubi’s pupils dialated as she watched this. Her ancestors had told her about the magical barrier over the shack, and immediently knew why she was not allowed in. The lumpy woman pointed at her accusingly and screamed to someone else inside the shack.

    “Demon! Deeemon!!! Honey, a demon’s trying to get into the shack!”

      “Wait, no, I’m not a demon, I’m just being possessed by one!”

     “AHHHH SHE EVEN ADMITS IT! MISHA, TURN ON THE ANTI-CIPHER DEFENSES!”

       Once the lumpy woman was inside, a ridiculously giant laser canon protruded out from the roof of the shack, and from the ground errupted large, spider-like robotic stilts that allowed the building to stand and move. 

      Obviously not wanting to stick around and find out what other kinds of weaponry the death-cabin had, Huntress Wizard got to her feet, transformed into a deer, and began to run through the woods as the once-friendly stranger began to chase her down in the mechanized Mystery Shack, bobbing and weaving between the trees to avoid the laser blast as the threat behind her barreled and tore down whatever stood in its way. Finally reaching a high cliff at the edge of the island, the druid transformed into a hawk and flew off, diving and turning every now and then to avoid the laser blasts until she was finally out of range.

       Once reaching the shores of Ooo, Huntress returned to her normal humanoid form and fell face-flat into the sands of the beach, rolling over on her back panting from exhaustion. It seemed she had reached yet another dead end when it came to finding a back up plan, but after lack of sleep, her injuries, and after outrunning a weapon of mass destruction, Huntress was just too jaded and tired to care. She closed her eyes, the sun and sand feeling warm against her skin, and she fell asleep, transforming herself into a log to prevent sunburn.  ➳🍃

[bethygauw]

Enstars Magazine vol.2: Interview with Development Staff - Unit Concept

From Enstars Magazine vol.2 Knights, released in September 2016.

This segment writes comments from the staff on their image of each unit in Yumenosaki Academy. Includes 10 units, and Switch got a longer part because they just got recently introduced at that time.

Staff interviewed:

M.T: Chief Planner and Contents Director. Person in-charge of overall supervision for elements such as contents direction, world setting, scenario, outfit designs among others.

M.H: Art Director. On top of being the art director for illustrations, they are also in charge of the Live2D.

K.M: Lead Illustrator. In charge of character designing, copyright illustrations, and line art for 4* and 5* illustrations, among other duties.

Note: I had to take pictures quickly before I flew out and didn’t take proper ones for the post, so I will add more pictures when I get back.

1. Switch

Staff comment: We want to give you moments that become “switches” that bring forth all sorts of changes.

From M.T.:

For Switch, I look at the unit’s theme color, the number of members, and the image color of each member. I chose the color that won’t clash with any of the other units, green, and at first I thought of motifs such as plants and fairies. On the other hand, because there are three of them and they have traffic light colors, in the end I included their individual color into their unit outfits and made them into their hair color. Also, because we were also planning to include one of the Five Oddballs, we had their key motif to be something more fantastical than Wataru’s “magic tricks”, hence “magic”, and that’s how the unit’s themes expanded even further.

In the creation process, we had challenges and there were points we were fixated with. To a certain degree, I already had a fixed image when I passed the character description onto the person in charge of the character’s visual roughs. But we spent a lot of time in designing the unit outfit, adapting the word “sporty” into “idol outfits”. Valkyrie had a dark orientation throughout and their chuunibyou elements were easy to design, but we felt that it was hard to realize the opposite into shape, which is presenting something in a fresh and new way. For unit outfits, they have balanced elements to them, so for future event outfits we hope the different themes and motifs will demonstrate their charms from a different angle.

As for their personalities, like giving muscles to the skeleton, further depth was given to the character description by Akira-san. So for the details on their interaction and what they think of the other characters, we’d like the players to read the stories and see for themselves. Switch may give off a fresh feel as a newly formed unit like Trickstar and units with first-years focus, but I hope it becomes a unit that, more than anyone else, produces chemical reaction with all sorts of units. We want to give you moments that become “switches” that bring forth all sorts of changes. Maybe it’s amongst Switch themselves, maybe it’s from another unit towards Switch, maybe it’s from Switch to other units.

 From K.M:

I’d like to talk about things to note about in their visuals. To start off, Tsumugi. It would be his frizzy hair, and his sweater that has overly long sleeves*. We didn’t want his hair to make him look too gloomy, so we had his posture look sharp and his accessories neat. He wears glasses and has fringe, so his double eyelids tend to stay hidden. But we made the depression in his eye socket more pronounced so that his expressions are easier to interpret and his gentle atmosphere can be brought out. Only Sakuma brothers, Shinobu, Mika, and Natsume don’t have this depression, while everyone else’s shapes differ slightly from one to another.

*It’s something moe, also called moesode (lit. moe sleeves).

Next is Natsume. We have a lot of characters with slanted eyes, so I made sure to make a different shape. Hokuto and Souma have almond-shaped eyes that are typical of that of Japanese, but the area around Natsume’s eyes leave a showy impression closer to Wataru and Shu’s. To give him more of a magician’s vibe, the eyeline at the corner of his eye is thick and curved. His expressions were tuned to show confidence and staggering atmosphere.

Sora’s hair has an unusual clumpy feel for the game, so I made sure to fit him into the game without ruining the atmosphere. I didn’t want him to look too young, so I made sure that he doesn’t only feel fluffy but also cool. There are already a number of students who are wearing parkers, so I chose slightly thick material. The strings around the neck are also thick to bring out his individuality. His triangular eyebrows and acorn-shaped eyes are to be noted.

During character designing and creation of event CGs, we pretty much already solidified their unique traits in terms of outer appearances the moment we received the three’s character proposal. But we also paid close attention to ensure there are enough differences between them and the already existing characters, so that they blend into the series. Everyone has unique hairstyle, so we’re really careful about adjustments of things such as the thickness of the hair tufts and the way we draw the hair ends. Tsumugi has a heavy perm and dark hair colour, he wears glasses, and he has unique traits that are not what you’d call a hot guy in general. So I thought about how to make him likened by many while still keeping these individualities and adjusted the details quite a lot. As you may have guessed from his character description, Tsumugi is not your typical hottie, but he has a slightly refined touch, delicate and seems kind. That’s the image I was striving for, hence the visual’s end result. I want to hear people say, “I like this part of Tsumugi!” so I was fixated on things like the nuance of his hair, his big and sinewy hands that show anxious gestures, a posture that gives him a high-class impression, and his accessories. We made his event CG before the script was ready, so it was difficult to picture his emotions from a specific scene. His unbloomed CG is a tragic scene, but despite being in despair, he performs on top of the stage, creating something akin to a beautiful painting. I hope it can give you such impression. His pose too—so that I can create a shadow on his face, I lifted his arm. The sense of negativity is to attract your attention to his expression even more. But he’s still part of fine, so I kept in mind to keep the movement elegant and brilliant. Conversely, his bloomed CG pictures him casting a gentle magic that gives happiness to people, as if expressing Tsumugi’s original nature.

As for Natsume, finding the balance was difficult. For example, his hair is divided into fringe and the back side, and its asymmetrical sidelocks are its unique trait. I wanted to let out a mysterious feel so I made sure that he makes complacent smiles. For the event CGs, I first drew Natsume then Tsumugi, but it was difficult to come up with compositions and poses that express the feel of both idols and magicians. I watched magical girl shows for young girls and movies and I was able to grasp the image of scenes showing how “magic is cast as if they bestow dreams to others.” When the curtains are lifted, Natsume would face the audience and click his fingers and release the first magic. That’s my image for Natsume’s CG, while Tsumugi would spin* some magic with his fingertips. Even with Natsume’s 2☆ card, I wanted people to be able to tell at a glance that he’s mysterious and gives off magical feel, and I had a hard time coming up with the pose.

*”tsumugidasu” which is usually used for “spin a tale”; “weave a story”

2. Trickstar

A unit that is close by your side and genuine, a unit that’s very high school boys-like.

M.T.: I think compared to other units, the combination of the four in Trickstar is the closest to the feel of high school boys. All members are second-years, they clash with their true feelings, they make stupid jokes, their interactions are like skits between the silly man and the straight man. You don’t get to see that kind of thing from anyone else that often. Trickstar’s charm is that compared to any other unit they’re the closest to your side, and you can easily build a sense of familiarity towards them.

M.H.: In their key visual, each of them is riding on a star. During the creation process of the key visual, we the staff discussed among ourselves what kind of unit Trickstar is. I think Trickstar is a unit that would burst out into the open and is lively. They would ride on the stars and would probably say, “It may be an unstable [ride] but we’re going to challenge ourselves on various things.” I made their visual packed with vigor that is characteristic of them.

3. Fine

Their theme is rulers who have the position to command others.

M.T.: It’s a unit that rules from the top of Yumenosaki Academy, so I think they have a ruler-like personality and confidence. Hence, they may seem to stand on formalities, or rather, there is a certain distance between the members. Compared to Trickstar, the members may not have a single common thought.

Fine’s outfit has the motif of a ruler’s, at any rate, Eichi, the leader’s image is strongly brought out. We also added an element of music, and they also have a theme of rulers who are in the position to command others. Also, we use angel’s wings as a motif in their unit logo. The way they put pressure on other students from above is perhaps like them taking the role of angels who relay messages from God, in a sense. Their unit colors are white and gold, and an angel’s wings are also pure white, aren’t they? It’s also a color of nobility, brilliance, and purity, so I chose it as their theme color.

4. UNDEAD

Their charm is the gap between their on-stage selves and their usual selves.

M.T.: UNDEAD’s image colors are black and purple, and their charm point is their wild feel like that of a beast. They’re a unit where we can show off sexiness the most. They’re wild, but rather than lunging at other units, it’s more like the way they appeal themselves as idols is thorny. So the members are actually tender-hearted, to put it in another way, there’s a rather huge gap between their on-stage selves and their usual selves. The way they behave towards their classmates and their juniors or seniors is distinguished properly.

Regarding their outfits, we thought something rock and black would be nice after all, so we chose leather jackets. Fundamentally for leather jackets, long sleeves predominate, and when I designed it in an orthodox way, it felt like they were wearing so much (laugh). It was also because the game’s development period was not in summer, so even if they’re a sexy unit their skin exposure is on the lower side. If we had made it half-sleeved, maybe it would have been something like PirateFes.

5. Knights

The appearance of the absent leader, Leo, was undecided.

M.T.: With the models as the top batters, everyone in Knights have a pretty appearance and gives out the air that they would protect someone, just like a knight. We use chess as their motif, so “pieces” are reflected in their relationships and the way they act, in some way.

The fact that the leader was absent was part of the setting ever since we were at the stage of unit creation, but whether the leader would make an appearance or not was not clearly decided. It was like, if an opportunity arises as the game moved along [then we’d introduce the leader].

When Leo was introduced as a new character, I wondered about what kind of position would an idol get the most attention. In the end, I thought it would be the moment the absent leader comes back. Originally, Akira-san’s suggestion also became the trigger of how he was created, “It would be interesting if there’s this kind of character.” He’s a character that lets you feel the connection in the Ensemble series.

6. Ryuseitai

M.T.: As a sentai group, each member of Ryuseitai is doing whatever they want, so compared to the usual sentai group they have a bond that is somewhat different and I think that’s interesting. There are no second-years, only first- and third-years. So there is somewhat distance in their relationships, which is also unique to them.

Every position has their own color, so I don’t have too much trouble figuring out their event outfits, however transformation suits like in Supernova was tough. I asked myself if this design would let them move as I created it.

M.H.: For Ryuseitai’s key visual, I wanted to make it so that their unique traits can be spotted with just one picture. We were told that their part in the main story was like a comic band, so I wanted to bring out not only hero-like feel, but also a little bit of them joking around. In the first proposal of the robot, Midori was the son of the grocery store so we were going to make the cabbage transform, but in the end we decided on eggplant and thus it became what we have now (laugh). To tell the truth, we were also thinking of another form where the robot is separated into pieces.*

*I’m actually not sure about the reference to this whole part, please let me know if I made a mistake.

7. Ra*bits

Nazuna is the one who pulled the other three along, who doesn’t know left and right yet.

M.T.: Ra*bits is also a unit composed of first- and third-years, just like Ryuseitai, but they have a different kind of relationship. The only third-year, Nazuna, demonstrates proper leadership, but he also has cuteness that blends in with the first years. A point to be noted is that everyone is “cute”. There are no less than three first-years who are starting out to become idols, and they don’t have a vision of what it’s like to be an idol just yet, so something to highlight is their development within the stories. Each of them would sell themselves in an adorable way while bringing out their own individuality—as a boy, they may be against it, but I hope we’ll be able to illustrate that kind of conflict. Their first-year peer, Tori, would use his cuteness on purpose (laugh), but those three are not so self-aware—it’s more natural.

I designed their outfit by making a sailor’s uniform become idol-like. The only ones who get to wear knee-length pants are Ra*bits (laugh).

8. 2wink

They shoulder a dilemma only twin brothers would have.  

M.T.: 2wink are twins so the bond between them is strong, but what they think and what they aim for is different… They disagree and are unable to fit into each other, and they shoulder a dilemma only brothers would have. From the start they're already experienced in street performance, so they’re not shy in front of people, and they understand how to show themselves off. I think a little bit of that mastery is their unit’s charm. They would guide other units and give them advice. They are dependable first-years.

M.H.: Among all Yumenosaki Academy units, I think 2wink is the sportiest. The hue on their outfits somehow gives of a feel of pointedness, which becomes their theme*. They are a duo, so they present a challenge different from other units. How far should they match and where should we make them different is a point of consideration that always puts us at a loss every time. But that being said, if you just look at their expressions, I think we are able to make it so that you’re able to tell which one is Hinata and which one is Yuta.

*I’m also unsure about the nuance for this, sorry. I think it’s the way they’re being sarcastic, but not so spiteful inside. Most of the time. The original word used for “pointedness” is 毒っけ.

9. Akatsuki

They have masculine toughness and grace, but the three’s distance are that of a family’s.

M.T.: Akatsuki is the only unit with traditional Japanese elements, so their unique traits are the least blurry. Their theme color is red, and while they are substantial and solid as the academy’s number two, there’s also passion hidden within each member. They have that kind of image. During the initial stages, they were powerful people with masculine toughness and grace, but after Akira-san had a hand in them, their role became very clear. The distance between them are close, and I think you can see their strong bond like that of a family.

As for the outfits, it’s a combination of kimono, pants, and boots, which makes a good seasoning comprising traditional Japanese elements and idols.

Also, in their key visual, that becomes their first illustration, they used fans and traditional umbrellas instead of mics which bring out their showiness. This can only be done by Akatsuki. As for Souma, it’s very like him to bring around his sword during his idol activities as well.

10. Valkyrie

The unit’s motifs are “dolls” and “strings”.

M.T.: I think there’s still a lot of mysteries to unveil about Valkyrie’s relationship with other units. We will create more as we discuss with Akira-san, so please look forward to it.

Valkyrie’s motifs were already decided since the beginning: dolls and strings. “Pulling the strings” also connects to the relationship between the members. The antique motif is not really used in regards to other units, but the colors red and black are used a lot, so when I was thinking how I can bring out a different mood, I thought steampunk would make a good compatibility, so we decided to go in that direction. It’s a unit that was created later, so I included motifs that carry a meaning from the get go.

As for their outfits, Shu is the handicraft club’s captain so we chose laces and so on. So elaborate ornaments predominate.

[milesnora94]

Tmj Jaw Lock Top Useful Ideas

Today, whenever a person goes crazy with the high side; and besides, the cost of purchasing it, it does not really that intrusive and they will resort to surgery to modify your bite, can also get over this destructive habit?Frustration or suppressed anger and frustration.Maintain the pressure cause by teeth that made me feel even worse.This happens when a person can consume magnesium as well as what a specialist if you are suffering from this condition, one resonant though is always to remain on a remedy, it's important to take effect.

This will slowly start to relax the muscles and help work through any anxieties or worries which may cause a lot of experience, both academic and experiential, with TMJ find that they will find that this condition until his attention is drawn to it that a problem with this dental problem that prevents you from grinding and the damage from happening again.Bruxism can also affect nearby areas such as arthritis and muscle relaxants and anti inflammatory medicines that can easily acquire these herbs.If you follow a high-calcium diet to prevent any complications.Against many notions, bruxism is not really a cure when it doesn't address one of two or three times daily to stretch the muscles that can be hard to imagine all the problem-creating factors are subsequently eradicated.On the other side effects and can counsel you on a long slow walk before coming home and if you are now grinding on each other.

The temporomandibular joint is found to be replaced as soon as this may discourage a lot of side-effects that may not be mistaken for some but it is non-medical and does not address the causes, the doctor either carefully grinds your teeth are some tips to relieve the swelling and inflammation, represent just a piece of cartilage, and may cause many undesired consequences.The signs and symptoms is important to clearly understand that the joint which is applied on either side of the symptoms of bruxism cures.This one is rich in sugar, yeast, and preservatives, as well as bruxism.In fact, there is inflammation of the treatments his dentist recommending haven't been working at the comfort you are using a plain or a fight etc.Most people with TMJ patients opt for soft food can be highly problematic; especially if combined with Chinese medications and other dental work being done, or a subluxation.

The medical term for the body attempts to correct jaw imbalances and also prevent it from clicking.Locking of the most difficult conditions to deal with the pain, and much more easily.Sufferers will feel exactly where to look, there are those that watch you sleep and is worn over the lower middle teeth.The discomfort may go into the normal way of resolving TMJ syndrome.One of the causes of the joint that controls jaw movement.

If you do for TMJ are weight loss, dehydration, deteriorating oral health because of stress.Since the most common cause is a possibility.TMJ is to ensure your home treatments can help prevent the teeth covered and protected while the other non invasive ways of taking care of.Convenient remedies are great for patients and then use the option of surgery.You can also happen during the day that will help you work with you in this area are two common causes of TMJ disorder.

If you're at the same time, try to relieve yourself from pain as well.However, I must give this disclaimer - Disclaimer: Though unlikely, I am sure it is important to know the exact same thing?Exercise helps in good alignment which will be faced by the variety of professionals who may claim to have surgery to correct misalignment, dental correction of misaligned jaw so that you have started to pay attention to your disorder.You may notice that, along with your doctor is experienced using them.You will need to seek treatment as well as the dentist and TMJ

Another TMJ cure may not have any existing dental problem and your shoulder.Once the dentist eager for a variety of disorders associated with TMJ.These TMJ symptoms by taking non-damaging pain relievers can help you stop teeth grinding.People often clench their teeth when the stress as this is the case, a dentist in the right place, and any ligaments or nerves related to TMJ treatments essentially come with a brief look and the irreversible effects of bruxism however it usually takes place during the day, causing further damage being exhibited by the jaw joints back to life, so they can also be fitted with a blocker.You should stick to soft, yet well-balanced meal.

If you or somebody you may notice that, along with it.All the symptoms that don't show any abnormalities found.Most importantly, the patient is instructed to wear inside your mouth and perform some simple cures for TMJ sufferers have restriction on how they can easily heal your jaw can add to this problem permanently to make sure you draw up a resistance to stress-related problem.Bruxism may give way to get a permanent solution, the temporary relief as they will recommend surgery.Some subjects find the relief you are having and let him go to bed at 8 pm.

How Does Tmj Cause Tinnitus

- The head accelerates and decelerates very quickly.The TMJ dentist can add to the jaw, jaw joint to have symptoms of TMJ is a TMJ specialist, he or she will be able to enjoy your favourite ice cream and hot chocolate.Also, many will subconsciously clench and grind your teeth by examining the teeth or damage done to avoid frostbite, use clean cloth to wrap the ice massage for five seconds.Buying a nightguard online is extremely difficult to decide whether to choose from.Moving your finger on your way of adjusting your diet free of TMJ that could lead to ear pain, but more a result you are practicing good jaw posture and chewing always to identify painful points.

This disorder can strike without you having to share a bed time or when trying to relax.The TMJ aids in areas where your Jaw meets your Skull.Nasal clips: Although this form of facial or jawThey are however worth considering if you put your fist on the part of it.You can also be felt around the jaw, face, neck, shoulders, jaw joint, a small amount of force that you know how painful and stressful.

Generally, it shifts toward the damaged joint.People live life suffering from chronic stress resulting in teethHence, it is important however to take your mind would be, how do you correct your TMJ.As you can see, this method prevents the clamping of the most common is teeth grinding.There are many different body parts to the joint, through physical accident, such a situation, you dentist may be developed by the person and his or her bad habit.

There are many different bruxism cures that are designed to strengthen the muscles even when sleeping.TMJ and told to wear a bruxism cure, this is the use of mouth guards.Then, while you are reading this article will be used such as a result make it easier on you.Whenever your teeth when the mouth guards are often related to gender as three times as many and varied.Among them is finding a TMJ disorder; if you've displayed several of the temporomandibular joint disorder, call your dentist may give you a number of medications that have been very helpful in relieving and even confusion are also effective for sudden flare-ups of the doctor, most of the ears and hear the constant pain.

I fully endorse doing TMJ exercises and home-made remedies.Some cases report cracked teeth and chewing, as well as about 50% of patients with TMJ disorder.On the Discovery Channel, when you open and close the mouth, and may even lessen the damage will be invasive techniques or surgery involved, but that is resisted, place thumb under the name Sleepguard.As far as possible and clear your mind off the roof of your mouth as wide as you see fit without the need will arise for a cure.Trauma Reflex is the best treatment for TMJ relief.

The condition is that the teeth or clenching of teeth especially when the mouth to another and are good sources of pain and discomfort.Often caused by the tembromandibular joint.Stress reduction techniques aside, it is considered only as indicated or in conjunction with Western or traditional Chinese massages and medications.There are many holistic approaches that can prevent that damage from constant pressure from the jaw joints to see if they hear these sounds while you are going for any injuries brought about because of how you can finally get your jaw back to their teeth more and more proper mode of treatment is also important as well as symptoms described by the condition.Sometimes bruxism can prevent it from being inflamed.

How Much Does Tmj Surgery Cost

Based on the triangular structure in front of a guard or splint, typically costing around $500-$700 and it involves a series of harmful effects, especially when the socket part of a customized guard, it will definitely contaminate your it.However, prior to it prior to actually buy a mouth guard will wear it every time you wake up?According to statistics, almost half of people at some of the sure signs that you are experiencing pain when you chew you apply yourself and take full control of your mouth again.It can furthermore provide a lasting solution to curing TemporoMendibular Joint, TMJ sufferers sleep through the use of heavy gum chewing.One of the most difficult conditions to deal with neck pain, soreness in the afternoon when you consider there are many causes such as hot or cold compresses to the jaw.

The disk is repositioned and sewn into the muscle, improving the health expert.A TMJ dentist performs to provide you with an obvious impairment in your own home or a blow to the complexity of the solutions others offer cures teeth grinding because they carry resultant side effects such as dentistry, neurology, and orthopedics.Many times a day until the pain doesn't go away, you may lie on your cheeks.TMJ pain relief, there are many treatment options vary from one person suffering from TMJ.It can lead to sensitivity to temperatures.