#sat learning center old bridge

[aventurineswife]

The dad Aventurine fic genuinely made me want to cry but now i can't stop thinking of something

Imagine Aventurine having an extremely chaotic kid, like one of those kids where u take your eyes off of them 00.1 seconds and they 10 broken bones, have broken at least 15 vases and is currently on a sugar rush from eating too much candy.

It can be either a boy or a girl! Im very in love with your writing and i'd love to see your own thoughts on this Idea. Overall just Aventurine having to deal with his little demon spawn

The Greatest Award

Summary: Aventurine’s life is a high-stakes game, but nothing could prepare him for the chaos of parenting his five-year-old child. In a single afternoon, his once-luxurious office is reduced to shambles, courtesy of a sugar-fueled miniature whirlwind. As Aventurine tries to reign in the chaos with his usual charm and strategy, he learns that even the sharpest gambler can’t outwit the boundless energy and imagination of their own child.

Tags: Dad!Aventurine and his demon spawn child, Parent-Child Bonding, Domestic Chaos, Fluff and Humor, Mischievous Child, Found Family Themes.

Warnings: Mildly Destructive Child Antics, Implied Past Trauma(?), Excessive Use of Candy and Paint.

A/N: I lost my previous fic i wrote about this req, seems like it didn't save... 😭😔💔. So, have this while I cry with my broken back 😪

The room, once an opulent display of Aventurine’s impeccable taste, now resembled the aftermath of a casino heist gone wrong. The velvet curtains had been pulled down, puddling on the floor like fallen royalty. His priceless roulette-themed rug? Drenched in some unidentifiable sticky substance that smelled faintly of caramel.

And in the center of it all stood the culprit—Aventurine’s five-year-old child, grinning like a miniature devil. Their hair, much like their father��s, was streaked with suspiciously bright blue paint. In their hand, they wielded what appeared to be the broken leg of an antique chair as if it were a sword, declaring, “I’m the Ruler of the Candy Castle!”

“Darling,” Aventurine’s voice was sharp but calm, his smile firmly in place despite the chaos around him. “Care to explain why my baccarat table is missing a leg?”

The child tilted their head, pretending to think. “A monster ate it.”

“A monster?” Aventurine pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a rare migraine brewing. “Was it the same monster who broke three vases, emptied my desk drawer of poker chips, and decided my coat rack was a jungle gym?”

They nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, and then it told me candy makes monsters go away!”

Before he could respond, they took off like a rocket, their tiny feet thundering across the marble floor.

“Darling—” Aventurine began, but they were already scaling a bookshelf like some kind of sugar-fueled mountain goat.

For a moment, he simply stared, calculating the odds of them not breaking a limb versus the likelihood of toppling the entire structure. Slim to none. He reached out just in time to catch them mid-leap, their laughter ringing in his ears as he set them firmly back on the ground.

“Listen, kitten,” he said, crouching down to meet their wild eyes. “You’re giving Daddy a run for his money, and I don’t lose. But if you keep this up, I might have to start betting on when you’ll turn the entire estate into rubble.”

They gasped dramatically. “You’d bet on me?”

“Absolutely.” He tapped their nose. “But I’d also bet that if you sat down for five minutes—five minutes, mind you—I’d let you pick out the next ridiculous hat I wear to work.”

Their eyes sparkled with devious glee. “Even the one with the feathers?”

Aventurine suppressed a groan. He had gambled with empires, conned royalty, and survived assassination attempts, yet this small, chaotic creature could bring him to his knees with a single demand. “Even the one with the feathers.”

They pretended to consider his offer before darting off again, leaving Aventurine in their wake. A crash echoed from the next room, followed by an enthusiastic, “Oops!”

He stood, smoothing his blazer as he surveyed the wreckage of his once-pristine office. This was just another high-stakes game, he reminded himself. The rules were unconventional, the opponent unpredictable, but Aventurine always played to win.

“Alright, darling,” he called, striding after them. “You’ve forced my hand. It’s time to introduce you to the most dangerous weapon in Daddy’s arsenal.”

They peeked out from behind an overturned chair, curious. “What is it?”

He smirked, pulling out a deck of cards. “A little thing called discipline.”

Their giggle echoed through the halls, and Aventurine couldn’t help but laugh too. Because despite the chaos, the broken vases, and the candy-fueled mayhem, he wouldn’t trade his little demon spawn for all the chips in the universe.

[kathleenmarymulligan]

1947 Memories

January 19, 2023 This past Monday, we were treated to a trip to two small villages mere kilometers from the India/Pakistan border. We went there to meet some Partition survivors, thanks to a schoolmate of Khalsa’s drama teacher Emanuel Singh. At points we could see the simple metal fence that marks the border. Visiting these villages was stepping back in time—a time much closer to what I imagine 1947 was like than anything we see in the city of Amritsar. It was thrilling for me to meet these gentlemen- and just knowing that they had experienced Partition first-hand nearly brought me to tears. It was an honor to hear their stories (second hand, as they spoke in Punjabi.) We arrived first at a home in the village of Dalleke and entered the traditional courtyard of a home. The courtyard was surrounded by low-lying buildings, seven cows wandered about, and at the center back sat a man on a charpai (day bed.) The image was stunning: this striking man with a white beard and bright orange turban basking in the bright morning sunshine.

We learned later that he was a holy man (two people approached him during our visit for a blessing), but he was not a survivor himself (he was not born at the time of Partition.) He assured us that another gentleman would soon join us, and sure enough, a rather elegant man of 81 arrived accompanied by a granddaughter (?)

He was six at the time of Partition, and his family did not emigrate (they were Sikhs and remained in what became independent India.) He did not remember a lot himself, although he did tell us about a group of Muslims coming to their village to seek revenge for the abduction of several women (taking revenge on a predominantly Sikh village, although there was no proof that the women were there.) In retaliation, a truck full of Muslims crossing a bridge nearby was forced off the road and into a canal, killing everyone on board. He said, “I don’t remember very much. I was very little. But there is another man in the village who is over 100, and we have called him.” Almost on cue, a young man appeared leading an almost impossibly old gentleman.

He was nearly blind and hard of hearing, but his memory was intact. He seemed to be charmed by Priya, the student who accompanied us as our translator, and he talked for at least 30 minutes. He told us that a mob had lined up men in the village along the canal and shot them. His brother was among them.

Eventually, it was clear he was tired, and his great-grandson led him back home (I think they walked!) I actually don’t think he could have been 100 (it’s been 75 years since Partition, and he said he was “16 or 17” at the time)- but it was also explained that records were very vague then, and people did not really keep track of how old they or their children were!

Finally, we traveled to another nearby village for one more meeting- this time with a man who was 13 at the time of Partition and emigrated from Lyallpur (in Pakistan.)

He told of the terror of traveling in a kafila (caravan)—expecting mobs to attack at any time. He joined together with other men and boys in the kafila to fight (“it was kill of be killed…”) And he talked about the heat, the lack of water, and the bodies: bodies everywhere-- on the fields, in the canals. They had no choice but to drink the water from canals filled with blood and decomposing bodies in the brutal August heat. Hard stories. Shocking stories. But so grateful to hear them.

[caraalee]

Ribeira and Douro Valley: Porto

We headed out of São Miguel before dawn and caught an early flight to Porto. After an overlap with a Frankfurt flight and an April Fool’s landing, we made it in about two hours. Taking an Uber from the airport, it looked like your everyday city, but once we approached Ribeira and saw the Douro River and bridges, it was pretty magical.

Day One: Ribeira

After three years inside, I had forgotten how romantic and whimsical European cities are 🥰. We dropped our bags off at the hotel, Hotel Carris Porto Ribeira, which was in a great location—close to the river, restaurants, and sites. After walking around for a little bit, we had lunch at Terreirinho, a tapas place. It was very charming, and the food was perfect for light bites. 

Afterward, we walked to and across the Don Luis Bridge, which the metro shares with the pedestrian walkway—scary! The views from the bridge were beautiful. 

Before heading back to the hotel, we stopped inside a mini mart across the street to pick up a bottle of green wine and saw they had pasteles de nata—like one-fourth of the reason why we were in Portugal! We picked up a couple, and they were among the best we had in both Porto and Lisbon!

SO good. Compared to dan tots, they were sweeter with a crispier crust. We digested and hung out at the hotel before heading out to dinner. We tried to go to the highly rated Taberna dos Mercados but didn’t realize they require reservations, like, years in advance. Restaurants close at 3 and then open at 7, so dinnertime means swarms of tourists frantically looking for places to eat. Luckily, we are 90 years old and were among the first wave of dinner goers. We walked around and stumbled upon Adega Dona Atonia and lucked out. The staff was so nice, and the food was delightful. We shared cod dumplings, seafood rice, and rosé. 

After dinner, we enjoyed the views of the bridge from our hotel balcony. It was worth splurging a bit to stay in the center of the city and get room with a view. 

Day Two: Douro Valley

For our only full day in Porto, we booked a tour in the Douro Valley to take in some valley views and valley vinho. We woke up early and found a café that was technically open, but they were not pleased we showed up exactly at 7 a.m. It wasn’t great, but the old pastries and latte gave us some sustenance before our drive. We were picked up by our tour guide, Ricardo, and the rest of the tour group, who were CHATTY. They hailed from Rochester, Montreal, and Seattle. We sat in the front and mostly listened in on their conversations. Ricardo was not the best tour guide—nowhere near Fernando in São Miguel. And he was an insane driver. But the tour was good overall. Our first stop was at Croft where we tried three ports and cheese. 

Next, we went on a boat ride in the river. It was cool but felt like a time filler. Bring me to the next vineyard, please!

I can’t remember where we had lunch (Ricardo was not good at keeping us in the loop). But it was pretty good. I had the shredded cod, Roobz got the pork, and we also got carrot soup and chocolate cake. Outside the restaurant, there were random peacocks, so that was fun!

Our last stop was at Quinta dos Castelares. We tried their rosé, moscato, and red wine from an oak barrel. We saw the views of the valley on the way back—lovely!

The drive back was wild and rainy. Ricardo told us about a good fado place and made a reservation for us, which was the only nice thing he did. It was at Galeria de Paris and was great, but he failed to mention it was 19 euros per person, so Roobz had to run to an ATM. Classic Ricardo. It was nice, though, because they only served drinks so you could really take in the music and learn the history of fado without the clinks and clanks of people eating. 

For dinner, we were without a plan, so we had to wander in the drizzle a bit until we stumbled upon Porto à Noite. We may have just been hungry and grumpy from the rain, but I loved everything so much. We shared the seafood salad, I got their salted bacalhau (cod), and Roobz got the pork chops. It was the best meal we had in Porto, and the waiter was also funny. 

I’m glad we stumbled upon good places to eat and fun activities for such a short stop. I could have spent a day or two more to really take in the city, but it was a good amount of time for a two-week vacation with four stops. I’m glad we had an enjoyable experience and no food busts like in Rome #neverforget. With that, we were ready to head to our final stop: Lisbon, baby!

[oldsalempost-blog]

THE OLD SALEM POST

Our  Local Tamassee-Salem SC Area News each Monday except holidays                                          Contact: theoldsalempost@gmail.com                              Distributed to local businesses, town hall, library.                            Volume 7 Issue 31    Week of July 22,  2024                https://www.tumblr.com/settings/blog/oldsalempost-blog                                                         Lynne Martin Publishing EDITOR:  We recently lost our good friend and neighbor Bill Garrison. His death affects probably all of us in our area, as his business of 20 years has become a staple in our homes for fresh produce, home, milk, boiled peanuts, friendship, and more. Bill created the Picket Post Produce. He left it in good hands with his granddaughter Sam to continue the business.  On Friday Sam received a notice to vacate the premises in 30 days.  We need a miracle and I know God is still in the Miracle Business.  I know that we as a community can help! Picket Post Produce needs a miracle.   Let’s be part of God’s helpers to “produce” this miracle!   LRM                                                                        

TOWN of SALEM: 5 Park Avenue  Monday-Friday 8AM-5PM. Closed 12-1 for lunch.  * Visit the Downtown Market every Sat, Hours 8am-12pm.    A new water line project is coming soon through downtown Salem, to replace the original infrastructure.                                                                                                    SALEM LIBRARY-  Best Little Library in Salem!  I hear so many wonderful accolades of our hometown library and librarians!  Open Mon-10-6, Tues-Fri 9-5  Closed each day for lunch 12-1.         Jottings from Miz Jeannie  by Jeannie Barnwell    The Glorious World of Gourds                         Going back to the earliest civilizations, women found uses for GOURDS.  They dried and preserved them. and then found uses for gourds as ladles and bowls.  Once a gardener plants seeds in May,  there is nothing else to do until harvest time. Our moist lake breezes here in Oconee County are the perfect environment for the variety of gourdly shapes and sizes.  Arrange a visit to HEAD-LEE Garden Center in early spring.  Go early because they sell out of  the most exotic and tempting varieties.  The real fun begins when you decide how to decorate the dried gourds. For instance, a bottleneck gourd becomes a stunning vase after it is sanded, buffed, and embellished with a wood-burned design.  Check out a book called "Gourd Craft" by Marilynn Host to learn about amazing projects to enjoy and to give as gifts!  Miz Jeannie loves all of y'all and encourages everyone to be kind and  patient as we SIMMER through the rest of SUMMER!                                                                                                            SONY 107.9 WFBS-  Jeff Bright with the 107.9 WFBS nonprofit radio station in Salem needs our help to purchase a new transmitter on the Town of Salem water tower.  We only need to raise $1500 to continue his unselfish service to our communities and our people, as well the awesome music of our generations!  Send a donation to Jeff Bright 178 Madison Pointe Drive, Seneca SC 29678. Let’s do this!

ASHTON RECALLS by Ashton Here's an interesting story from a 1900 issue of the Courier: RAIN SWEEPS AWAY 53-YEAR-OLD GRIST MILL. . .(This story was in the "News from Whitewater" column by someone calling himself "Old Buckskin Joe" in the October 31, 1900 issue of the Keowee Courier. The report was dated October 23):. . .Last night this vicinity witnessed the greatest rainfall for the past fifty years. It swept away Mr. Nicholson's grist mill, which had been standing for fifty-three years at the same site. . .The bridge across Whitewater river at Gen. Ervin's place was swept away. Our Commissioners will have to visit our section and look after the roads and bridges. . .The freshet destroyed fifty bushels of corn for Mr. Jesse F. Cox. . .Half of Clifton Rogers' crop on Mr. M. Nicholson's place was entirely washed away. . ."Uncle Mitt" says he has been living here fifty-six years, and he never witnessed such an occurrence before.

JOCASSEE VALLEY BREWING COMPANY,(JVBC) & COFFEE SHOP* 13412 N Hwy 11 Opening on Tuesdays 12pm-7pm during the summer season. Wed–Sat 9am-9pm and Sunday 12pm-7pm. Events this week: Wed:  FOOD TRUCK:  BLUE RIDGE GRILL  Music: SINGER-SONGWRITER HOSTED  BY RICK MALEC 6PM  Thursday: Food Truck:  BLUE RIDGE GRILL 4PM  OLD TIME JAM 6:30PM   Fri: Music: WEST END STRING BAND 6:30PM   Food: LOBSTER DOGS  Sat–  Food:  PaChuys  Music:  AUSTIN REECE at 6:30PM    Sun: 12pm-7pm Food:  WHEELIE GOOD FOOD Music:  CONSERVATION THEORY 4PM.    

Clemson Rural Health Mobile Unit Coming to Salem:  July 25th  Time: 9AM-3PM Location: gravel parking lot across from the Salem Fire Department.  They will offer comprehensive primary care that includes chronic disease management and acute care.  The website: https://www.clemson.edu/cbshs/clemson-rural-health/patients.html     The scheduled days are confirmed through the end of this year.   August dates are Aug 13th and Aug 29th.                   

EAGLES NEST ART CENTER          

2024 UPCOMING EVENTS     Treasure Store open every Sat morning 9AM-12PM.  For donations  call 864-557-2462.   

2nd Annual Talent Showcase:  July 27th 6PM  Come out and enjoy the Talent Showcase  this weekend!  Tickets $10 at the door the day of the event.   Call for more information 864-710-8758 or 864-888-5663.Tell your friends to join the fun!

Beverly Chesser with Beverly Exercise is coming to ENAC on Saturday, August 3 at 1PM to speak on wellness and fitness.  Beverly has shared her ministry for almost 50 years and is now 80 years old. She leads an exercise group at her church in Anderson, SC every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Admission is donation only.  Plan to be encouraged spiritually, mentally, and physically. 

August 24th, 7PM  Make Reservations for Dinner and a Show with Luke Riley Smith– Enjoy  the tunes of the Big Band Era, Swing and more!  Tickets $25 Call 864-280-1258.

YOUNG APPALACHIAN MUSICIANS– Sign up for YAMs for an evening class each week on Tuesdays at 5:30PM. Cost is $50 each month.  Instruments available for rent at $20 per month. 3rd grade through adult.   Call 864-280-1258  

                                       CHURCH NEWS Bethel Presbyterian Church (PCUSA),  580 Bethel Church Rd Walhalla, 29691. Worship at 10:30 a.m. July 21 Adam Hopkins, July 28 Mel Davis, August 4 Mel Davis, August 11 Mel Davis. Come Visit Us!   

Who do you work for?  I hear complaints that services are just not the same after people retire from their positions, especially any government paid position.  Good work ethics are often not passed on from generation to generation.  That element of being entitled seems to worm its way into a potential good employee.  Many new employees today have their own expectations, rather than meet the expectations of the employer.   Even if you are in a job you do not like at the present, continue to do a good job while looking for another.  A good rule is to work as if you are working for the Lord, not just a paycheck.  God might just have you in the right job to be able to teach you something. LRM

Venue Crisis– Many restaurants, bars, taprooms, and other venues that sell alcoholic beverages are facing astronomical insurance premiums that are forcing them out of business.  It seems weekly another venue announces they are closing due to this.  The Local Que Restaurant in Greenville stopped selling any alcohol because the premium increased from 40K, to 120K, to over 300K in order to sell alcoholic beverages.  If this is not affecting you at this time, it will.  Our SC State Legislators need to be contacted to support Bill S533 for personal accountability.    LRM                                                                                                                      CONSERVATION CORNER    TREES to Think About-  Help me figure out why people bull-doze away all the old magnificent trees that provide beauty and shade on their property, and then spend money to put back a few small and often cheap trees that  might not even live, or the owners won’t live to see grown.                                                                                                                  POEM:  When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.  I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water.  And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light.  For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free!  Wendell Berry

Let’s help perform some miracles!  LRM                                                                                                                                                                                                              

[stargazer-tps]

Stargazer's Art History: Barbie Amino (Part 1)

Thus begins the Giant Exportation of All of My Barbie Amino Content

Diamond Castle Necklaces

New tutorial coming soon—but here's the old one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zAKla5k9rSk

Melody and Papyrus

Diamond Castle Alternate Ending

Alexa and Liana watched in awe as the Diamond Castle rose from the lake, the sky brightening and the lake vanishing until it was only a ring surrounding the castle. A stone bridge appeared in front of them in a shower of sparkles. A few seconds of stunned silence passed and the two girls stepped onto the bridge, more sparkles cascading around them and transforming their dresses into sparkly ballgowns.

Liana felt Melody’s broken mirror lift from her hand. She let go, and it floated gently to the ground, emanating a soft glow. From the cracked surface stepped the muse apprentice herself,

“Liana!” she cried, opening her arms to receive her friends. “Alexa!”

The three girls embraced each other, then watched Lily and Sparkles imitating their owners as they were covered in glitter. They laughed at the two dogs and Melody led the others towards the castle. She beamed as she led her friends up the staircase towards the music room, where the Muses’ instruments were. It seemed their journey was finally at an end… but something went wrong.

The color drained from Melody’s face when she glanced inside the room. “No…” she whispered.

Lydia stood at the center of the room, flute in hand. Slyder stood behind her and a pile of rubble sat at her feet as she stepped towards the girls.

"It’s over, little apprentice,” Lydia sneered. “The castle’s power is finally mine, and mine alone!”

The other girls looked at each other in despair as Lydia cackled. The evil Muse lifted her flute, prepared to strike the final blow when an idea struck Liana. The girl rushed forward, snatching away the instrument and throwing it through a window that was in front of her and catching Lydia off guard. Lydia growled and turned to her companion.

“Slyder! Go get my flute back!” she commanded.

Liana grabbed her two friends by the wrists and ran back out of the music room, closing the doors before Lydia could catch them.

“Liana…?” Alexa looked at her friend, confused.

“What are you doing?” Melody asked. “Now that she’s destroyed the Muses’ instruments, we can’t stop her…”

“You can’t just give up!” Liana said. “Melody, you were an apprentice, right? Learning to be a Muse yourself?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“Then maybe she hasn’t destroyed all of the Muses’ instruments?” Liana asked hopefully. “Maybe there’s one more left?”

Melody gasped, finally realizing what her friend was getting at. “B-but I can’t… I can’t just break tradition like that!”

“Melody, please,” Alexa tried, “I’m sure the Muses wouldn’t mind this once.”

“I-I… We don’t even know if--”

Liana grabbed Melody by the shoulders, looking her in the eyes. “This is our last chance. You taught us to believe in the impossible… Now it’s time to believe in yourself.”

Melody hesitated for a moment more, then said, “Okay. I think I know where they kept the instrument for when I was to become a Muse…”

“Great,” Liana replied. “You and Alexa go find that. I’ll stay here and distract Lydia.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the two groups split up. Melody led Alexa back down the staircase towards her and the Muses’ rooms. The two searched frantically but to no avail.

As the girls were searching through Melody’s room, her eye fell onto the instrument on her nightstand—a small whistle much like the one she’d used to hide herself in the mirror. She grabbed it.

“We don’t have much time,” Melody said, eyeing the instrument in her hand. “I don’t know how much I’ll be able to do with this, but I at least know how to play it… I think. It’s been a long time.”

She played a short, simple tune. Alexa turned to look at her and could have sworn she saw a faint glow surrounding her friend.

“I can work with this,” Melody said, already rushing back to the music room.

Inside, Liana had gotten ahold of Lydia’s flute and was running around the room, keeping it just out of the evil Muse’s reach. The moment the other two girls entered the room, Lydia stopped, causing Liana to bump into her. She snatched her flute back and turned to Melody.

“Do you really think you can defeat me with that?” Lydia sneered.

For a moment, Melody doubted herself. After all, she wasn’t even a Muse yet. But then she heard the voices of her friends, urging her on, telling her to stay determined. She blocked out Lydia’s jeers and began to play. She thought about her friends, the reason she was here right now, and the person Lydia used to be, before she had decided she wanted to be the only Muse, and played a song that reached out to the evil Muse’s very soul.

The villain in question began to play her own song, a dark tune that had imprisoned nearly everyone the three other girls had encountered on their journey and one that nearly overpowered the apprentice’s song.

Liana and Alexa joined Melody, their voices raised in unison, but doing next to little against Lydia’s magic. It was hopeless.

And yet the storyline refused to be broken. Two figures flew through the same window Lydia had infiltrated the castle through, landing next to the apprentice and joining the song. Their presences caught both Lydia and Melody off-guard.

“Impossible!” Lydia cried.

“Keep going,” the Muses urged.

Melody picked the song back up, exactly where she had stopped. Lydia played her own song in retaliation, but her guard had already been let down. Melody’s song continued to call out to the evil Muse, who faltered, recalling for only a moment the life she had before she turned.

In her moment of weakness, the others’ song overpowered Lydia’s dark magic, destroying any trace of the ancient magic that had given the Muse her powers, including her serpent companion, who simply vanished into dust, and her own instrument.

But the other girls didn’t stop. Melody continued to reach out to Lydia, who could feel the younger woman’s message in every note.

‘Come back to us. Forget this notion of being the only Muse.’

“No!” Lydia cried, replying to words that didn’t even exist. “I’m not that person anymore! I won’t let you take victory from me like this!”

Melody persisted. Lydia couldn’t understand. She just couldn’t understand.

She fled.

Melody’s song came to an end as her friends embraced her, some for the first time in many years.

“Will she come back?” Liana asked, looking in the direction Lydia had run.

“Perhaps,” Dori replied, “but for now I would not worry.”

“Even if she does,” Alexa added, “she won’t have any power without her flute. And we’ll be there to help you!”

At that moment, Ian and Jeremy burst through the doors.

“What happened?” they asked, seeing the now dust-covered pieces of the Muses’ instruments in the center of the room, as well as the Muses themselves, who they vaguely recognized from the short period of time they’d spent in Lydia’s cave. “I thought they had been turned to stone?”

“That reminds me,” Melody said, turning to her mentors. “How did you get free? I thought that your instruments would be the only things that could have broken her spells…”

“We heard your music calling to us,” Phaedra replied. “Just because your instrument is not that of a full Muse does not mean it isn’t powerful.” She smiled. “That being said, I believe we have much to discuss.”

With that, Liana, Alexa, and Melody began to recount the tale of how they came to find the castle, and the Storyline was restored.

The End.

[familyofpebbles]

Switzerland- October 2021

Reaching back in time for this one… Still trying to find the time and motivation to write!

A quick update on everyday life first. I finally left the bank and got a new job at the childcare center here on post. It’s not something I ever would have considered but all of a sudden something switched and I decided I wanted to take the leap and try it out. Turns out, I absolutely love it! I think it’s the first job I’ve ever had where I can honestly say that. I am in the infant room- 6 weeks to 18 months- and it is so much fun. I love all the kids and have such a fun time getting to know them and watching their milestones and building relationships with them. I genuinely look forward to seeing them after weekends.

I also picked up a new hobby and started going to Jiu Jitsu classes twice a week! I usually go with my friend and neighbor Taylor. Despite being a class of mostly large men, it’s actually really fun! I wish there was a female class so it could be a little more evenly matched, but most everybody has a welcoming attitude and I always learn a lot. Plus it’s a fantastic workout.

Robert is currently getting ready to go to an interview for BLC instructor, which will begin to determine how much longer we stay in Germany. I think we’ll be happy either way, honestly. There’s benefits to being in either place, and we managed to see all the places we absolutely HAD to, so it wouldn’t be so heartbreaking to go.

-

Okay! Switzerland. Over a year ago!

We were planning on roadtripping since there was so many stops to make. The day before we left, the car brakes started making noise. We consulted with a mechanic buddy, determined we probably could make it since it JUST started… and decided to just go for it. Couldn’t miss out on Switzerland!

We drove through beautiful countryside dotted with sweet blonde cows and watched the mountains grow as we progressed, listening to Harry Potter along the way. Google took us through some very questionable routes, even taking us through some poor farming family’s private driveway- oops! Our first stop was Zurich, where we met up with one of Robert’s old friends, Alex- a German he had met online as a child and emailed back and forth for a while, until he actually came to Montana to live with Robert’s family for a month! He and his boyfriend took us to the first vegetarian restaurant in the world and then on a little tour of the city. We actually stopped and took a picture at a bridge that you found out later by looking through old projector slides, your grandfather had taken a photo on when he was young and in the air force! Happy coincidence day! We unfortunately couldn’t stay too long since we had to get to our next stop with some daylight left, but it was super cool having that connection. I love having a web of acquaintances all over the world.

Our final stop of the day was Lucerne. A cozier feeling city- this one appealed to us a bit more than Zurich had. We saw the famous lion in the cliffside, crossed the old wooden bridge, and had a lovely time exploring. We decided that this was certainly the place to try fondue for the first time, and you scoured google for the best reviews. We landed on a small restaurant that luckily had an opening and got a small table squished into a corner. It was uncomfortably hot in there, and within moments you began to smell the table of workers behind you, all dressed in matching polos (though we couldn’t see what for) that had perhaps done some physical labor prior to eating. It was a bit too much, so we asked to be sat outside. Our waiter was confused but gave us blankets, and soon we were the only ones outside.

 Now, you’d think that a giant bowl of melty cheese and bread would be right up our alley, so we were pretty excited. Out comes a GIANT vat of cheese and a bowl of bread the size of both of our heads- a translation issue we thought- one to share turned into two-in-one. Ah well. So we tasted it! And… it was horrible. Strangely sweet and vaguely tasting of alcohol and paired with soggy bread cubes- it was just not what we had expected! Keeping in mind how wildly expensive this cauldron of cheese was, we reluctantly ate enough to keep us full for the night. During this, an old man passed by our table and loudly crop dusted us! We stared at each other over our nasty cheese in shock and just started laughing. At least the wine was good!

-

Our Airbnb that night was a low ceilinged room in a house up in the hills. Very cozy, and when we woke we were treated to an incredible view of the rolling green pastures dotted with serene cows. We came downstairs to a lovely breakfast spread our hostess had prepared for us- fresh breads, cheeses, yogurt, honey, jams… everything you could want! It was delicious and we had a nice little chat with her as well. Though the relaxation of total privacy is sacrificed with spots like these, I do like the experiences that come with them, especially if it’s just a quick overnight pit stop!

-

The first stop of the day was Lake Brienz. It was an overcast day, but the water was shockingly blue, and the mountains towered up into the clouds. We walked along the shoreline for a while, and met a sweet little kitty who stopped to see us and hang out beneath my cape for a bit before moving on. (Yes, cape. I felt it was fitting for this mountainous adventure!)

Next was Grindewald- a pretty little ski resort town (and therefore rather expensive). We just stopped long enough to walk the main street, and only realized the mountains reached as staggeringly high as they did when the clouds parted midway up. We still couldn’t see the tops of them and they were absolutely looming over the town! Massively impressive.

-

And then- the stop I had been looking forward to the most: Lauterbrunnen! We loudly squealed into a parking lot in our rapidly deteriorating car, and stepped out to see the most breathtaking mountain view we’ve seen in our lives.

Lauterbrunnen sits in a narrow valley of green rolling hills tucked between towering rocky cliffs. The sun tracks directly between the massive walls, and waterfalls pour over the sides. It looks like you’ve stepped into the setting of a high fantasy. In fact, we as we came to find out later, it directly inspired Rivendell. This WAS a fantasy setting- home of the elves.

We started walking down a path through the town and deeper into the valley. We took in all the contend cows, bells softly sounding, as they meandered through what must surely be cow heaven. Farm houses dotted the valley here and there- one of them had a small unattended enclosed stand with their cheese and jam, a paper with a price list, and a small box to leave money in. We bought some cheese- it was delicious.

It had been cloudy as we drove up, but as we started walking, the clouds parted ahead of us and we got to see the sun descend in front of us and golden hour light up the whole valley. It was stunning.

We walked until we were hungry, and then turned back towards town to get some food. There, we tried what was to be our favorite dish in Switzerland- one we got more than once- *~alpermagronen~*. It’s  creamy gruyere mac n cheese, caramelized onions, roasted potatoes, and applesauce. I cannot emphasize enough what a perfect October mountain comfort meal it was. I’m jealous of my past self. I need to learn to make it.

After, we took the small yellow train up the cliffside to the town of Wengen- which is the only way to reach it. By this time, the clouds had returned and a dramatic fog had rolled in (the sun had stayed with us just long enough for the perfect walk). We arrived and wandered the little ski town- bought some Wengen chocolate truffles (delicious), tried and failed to lure a cow over for me to pet (bucket list item), and took a walk through the town on a path passing picturesque little homes perched on the edge of the cliff, and into the fields beyond. We could hear muffled cowbells sounding deep in the fog beyond what we could see. It was truly magical.

-

We awoke in Interlaken after a bit of a runaround trying to get into our shared Airbnb the night before. We headed straight out, picking up breakfast at a local bakery and stopping at God’s Left Eye to eat it. The morning sun was filtering through the leaves so perfectly, and the lake was such a clear and piercing blue. It was really a dream morning.

Then on to St. Beatus’ Caves- supposedly where St. Beautus slayed a dragon that lived inside. I feel bad for the dragon. But the winding pathways that zigzagged up the mountain to the entrance with bridges over the river tumbling down the side was another piece of inspiration for Rivendell. We got to overlook God’s Left Eye this time, gazing at it under a waterfall.

The cave system was far larger than we thought! A labyrinth of tunnels and rocks patterned like dragon scales- easy to see where the mythology came from. There were so many corners and coves and pools with rocks arcing over them… we both decided it would only be too natural to see Gollum hunching over one. And yet again, we were actually correct- those very caves were still another inspiration for Tolkien himself.

After this, we started off in the direction of our Airbnb for the night, but not before making one more stop at a rather famous lake that I cannot remember the name of now. It’s known for being very blue, and in all the photos it looks very tranquil. Unfortunately, we got there a little later than anticipated and the light was low enough that we didn’t see the full brightness of it… and it happened to be very crowded. It was actually just off the road, and had a couple lodges and restaurants and boat tours… but we found some lounging chairs and relaxed in front of it for a bit anyway. It was still very pretty.

This did lead us to driving to our Airbnb in the pitch black night, up very windy mountain roads with no street lights and sometimes no guard rails on very scary sounding brakes. Truthfully we are very lucky we made it. We arrived, slightly unsure if we were at the right spot, but eventually figured that it was very unlikely to be a different guest house all together, and settled in for the evening. This was when we found out about the Tolkien journey, actually. Our very last night! I couldn’t believe I didn’t know about it before. It’s lucky I have naturally good taste ;)

-

We awoke to an incredible view that we had missed the night before. We were on the side of a huge valley, surrounded by farmland- and cows of course! It was a frosty morning- the sun hadn’t touched our bit of land yet. We took deep breaths of fresh air and met our host outside, where we exchanged friendly hellos. And then. Then! I saw a small pasture full of cows right next to the driveway! This was my last chance to pet a Swiss cow!! I ran back over to out host as she was about to get into her car and asked if it was okay to go pet them… and she said yes!

You and I went up to the pen and started trying to sweet talk the cows over. They looked like they were younger, and though hesitant, were certainly intrigued. They made their way over, frequently stopping, gazing at us with big eyes and attuned ears. We kept cooing at them until the bravest made their way up and finally! I got to pet some sweet blonde belled Swiss cows! They loved it, especially scratches around their horns, and jostled for attention. I was in heaven (and so were they, it seemed!) Literally the perfect end to this vacation. Bucket list item secured.

-

Well, kind of the end. The ACTUAL end is that our car did not make it home. It MIGHT have, but there was a massive traffic pile up and we were riding our brakes so much that they eventually seized. We had to pull over two hours away from home and call a tow truck to bring it back the rest of the way, which set us back a neat $900. We are very thankful though- One, for being able to make it through the bulk of our trip safely, and to see all the amazing sights we saw, and Two, for being in a place financially that, while uncomfortable, that towing price was not going to ruin us. We have a savings for that sort of thing, and we tapped into it. I feel so fortunate to be able to be at this point in our lives, and so relatively young. I’m thankful that our takeaway was that we made a conscious decision to roll the dice, and we managed to stay safe and make it to nearly the end of the trip, and could afford that final consequence.

So the final memory of this Switzerland trip can be a positive one- sweet pecan cakes, the sun rays through towering mountains, and the feeling of soft cow fur under loving fingers. All hand in hand with the love of my life.

[meanwhileinstasiville]

I *knew* sending mcfuego a friend request would be bad, but I had *no idea* that it would be **this** bad.

It was...

yellow cooper pulls up and parks next to you at mod pizza intersection, bad

a cooper in the oncoming lane drives by you later by triangle park, bad

A yellow clad woman waits at the top of the street by manhattan, on the corner you’re walking up to, bad

A bright yellow vested “cleaning guy” meets you in the entrance, bad

coopers by churches, bad

orange library director cars where there had been coopers before, as at sushi, bad

A mcfuego expy outside the coop, who was I think trying to signal that “genuine mcfuego” is a cop; well, she is and isn’t, it’s complex.

There was ryan-expy, casting call grade, on the steps of the cabaret theater, where “second” and “hargandine” meet; I’m not a number, to quote Bob Seger, and it’s about sandal straps; the only part of a shoe that always endures.

Mcfuego is swimming center in a school of piranhas, with caimans up and down the shoreline (I don’t think expy as a ward off is really necessary, you think?)

All those religious references, Motorola, tell a story of a secular organization with deep bordering on bottomless (like fries) pockets trying to promote a religion among its employ. 

Being “in charge” of how much charity reaches the ground, *is the not the same* as fielding a command structured army. And it’s that bad.

It was *eric expy sitting on 6 stands up and leaves* after I sat *next to him* in a room of mostly empty chairs, bad

And yes, it was “amazingphil” in bright yellow shirt, top right promoted when I logged into tumblr, bad 

Edit: It was ALSO changes in a lengthy song with lots of solos *punctuated by coopers* bad, speaking of illicit surveillance

“Phil hands” top center in week.com political cartoons, bad

It’s no question at reference for like half an hour of rambling old man, bad

It’s my cousin appears to be in conversion therapy, burning a bridge with him, and after learning of that *because my uncle died*

It’s my best friend appears to have tried his hand at “the family business” between grandpa and I, and so, a struggling with psychopathology girl got molded into a variation on my older sister, becoming yet another girl I cannot sleep in the same room with, bad

It’s *social anxiety sits down on 12 on cue* from snk stock, bad, and I reiterate as with mcfuego’s piranha’s, that I don’t need discouragement when I’ll get shot for showing up where I’m supposed to be cowed out of going, by all this. Superfluous, they call that sort of thing.

It's the *black and yellow wine hopper* driven by someone who turned out to be wearing a yellow shirt, followed by a chaser car with a yellow shirted driver, when I "what will happen *this* time" went back to safeway (and yeah, that was at an entrance I used before) bad

It's va our city stalker now in orange "backed up" by some sworn in guy I've never seen the name of (felt pretty automotive wholesaler grade)

Getting king for a day memes in the feed, after I was sure the wifi was off adding the fbi to people who don't like me much. Since I was all of three or so "sir, sir, did you *intend* to leave this phone off the hook?" Said the operator instead of the disabled line noise I had expected. *That* is called a syllogism that goes with a wiretap.

Someone should listen to "one jump ahead" from Aladdin for context.

It's livejournal blogging on Tumblr attracts federal attention, bad

What it was

an el camino like I used to have, red honda fits, blue ford rangers from two or three different decades, a transgender counselling van (that I saw again today)

White dodge neon, black dodge neon, latin king colored dodge neon at the same places along my walk route; one for another

And then, ridgeline trucks latin king colored, orange subarus like the library director’s, coopers began to appear at all the “junctions” (intersections, stretches of empty road or alley where *there were no other cars*

And now, yellow at any or all of those places seems to be picking up where they were, “economizing” as it were

It's "blue collar eastern tokyo" in the feed, and you know, mom was a federal accountant and her family founded the bank and the church, cut the stone in the cemetery (a woman in the 1800s), was the county seat and in the senate, since I have to keep defending her family from *white supremacy since the 60s and a cartel since the late 80s seems, "AOK" with the fbi.

Seem to be doing a bang up job with the place

And dad, who was "hassidic", was from the same Scandinavian social class as my best friend's dad, and walked away from being a professional athlete so...apples and oranges comparison between two guys who weren't competing for the same things in life.

It's a callback to "your girlfriend gives you a book called rich dad/poor dad" bad

And how she did everything you've supposed to, like my mom who *had a rich dad* of sorts, and so I gave her the book that she never read, and how she ended up being married to someone named "weighing dykes" while a federal accountant *because of who was running the community* and how it turned out for making good choices, and said girlfriend became an escort with escort expenses for not having one, bad

It's not going to the kind of "private school" my dad could've also gone to, legacy bad (and my best friend was *also* supposed to be privately educated)

It's "the girl who made a man out of ricochet" her life choices make sense, bad

[huntingtonlearningcenter]

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Our commitment to excellence has led to our Manalapan tutoring center being recognized as one of the Top 5 Tutoring Centers in Monmouth County on Yelp. As an accredited center under the esteemed Middle States Association, we hold ourselves accountable for providing students with the essential tools they need to excel academically and surpass academic standards. Through personalized learning plans and time-tested methods, we empower students to cultivate their skills, enhance their confidence, and remain motivated in achieving their academic goals. We firmly believe that every child possesses the ability to learn and succeed.

At our center, we prioritize the individual needs of each student, tailoring our approach to ensure a personalized and effective learning experience. Our certified teachers are highly skilled in adapting their instructional methods to suit different learning styles, enabling students to grasp concepts and achieve academic milestones more effectively. Whether a student requires assistance in a specific subject or seeks comprehensive support for college entrance exams, we are equipped to provide the necessary guidance and expertise.

We understand that academic success extends beyond the acquisition of knowledge; it also involves the cultivation of critical thinking skills, effective study habits, and a resilient mindset. Our Manalapan tutoring center is dedicated to nurturing well-rounded individuals who can thrive academically and in various aspects of life. Through our comprehensive educational services, we equip students with the tools they need to overcome challenges, think critically, and approach their academic journey with confidence and determination.

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We invite you to join us at our Manalapan tutoring center and discover the transformative impact of our educational services. Experience the difference of personalized attention, proven teaching methodologies, and a team of dedicated professionals who are passionate about empowering students to reach their full academic potential. Together, we will unlock the doors to a brighter future and pave the way for lifelong success.for more detail please visit

[heroplumberla]

Turtle Rock Community Park

Visiting Turtle Rock Nature Center and playground in Irvine turned into a very enjoyable afternoon for my kids and I.

I recorded the visit in my Simple Nature Adventures post, but neglected to write up a full post about Turtle Rock Community Park or the nature center. So now you get to learn about both!

How to Get to Turtle Rock Nature Center and Community Park in Irvine: Take Culver Drive to Bonita Canyon Drive and turn on Sunnyhill. There is a large parking lot near the tennis courts. MAP to Turtle Rock Nature Center and Community Park in Irvine

Turtle Rock Nature Center is very modest, but packed with small exhibits and items for exploration. It occupied my 7 year old and 4 year old for a good 20-30 minutes.

The center is a gateway to a paved nature walk. On our visit in September it was spider season. Webs everywhere! It made for a murky and somewhat nervous walk thinking we were going to smack into a web. However, it is not this way all the time – and on subsequent visits we never encountered critters like the first time.

I loved the creek and picnic area past the playground. So beautiful and peaceful.

The larger play structure at this Irvine community park had some great slides and lots of opportunities for climbing.

The smaller structure had a few steering wheels and a smaller slide.

There were 4 baby swings next to the smaller structure — two different types.

The 4 big kid bench swings were by the bigger kid equipment.

The Nature Center even offers nature birthday party programs.

Be Aware:

Check the Nature Center hours before you go. The City of Irvine website says M-F from 9am-5pm, Sat 9am-4pm, and closed Sundays. Kids might get good and dirty. Bring a change of clothes. My little girl ended up soaking wet (I knew she would) when I let her navigate the rocks across the creek. I’m guessing a visit could possibly coincide with a community or sporting event. For us, it was very quiet.

Checklist:

Small nature center Large, dedicated parking lot Sand and recycled rubber play surface Drinking fountains Bathrooms outside the Nature Center entrance and by the playground Picnic area and grills across the bridge from the playground Lots of trees for shade Big grassy area for running Official City of Irvine Turtle Rock Community Park website (park reservations) Official City of Irvine Turtle Rock Nature Center website

[ivymasters-blog]

Ivy Masters provides guidance for parents on various topics including how the College Board scores the SAT and how scores are considered in the college admissions process.

[soulmate-game]

Not related to the other two Bio!mom Harley AUs that I did. Just... similar. I wrote this instead of sleeping, as per the usual.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I need your help.”

No accent, no threats of violence, no beating around the bush (figurative or otherwise). No fighting or unconscious bodies.

Just Harley Quinn with her hair down, no makeup, and completely serious, in the center of the Bat Cave. Even though her usual exaggerated Brooklynn accent (circa 1950s) had become a pretty inseparable part of her personality over the years, every now and then she forcibly stuffed it down and used her mostly unaccented voice. The one reminiscent of days with less colors on her face, a high bun, and a pristine white lab coat.

Every single one of the Bats and Birds present, fresh from an interrupted patrol thanks to her, could count the number of times they had seen Harley like this on one hand. Bruce would have the most recollections, but everyone else would have plenty of fingers left on said hand. So they all knew, especially when Bruce willingly pulled down his cowl so he could look Harley in the eye, that this was the start of something they were not likely to forget. And maybe their chances of survival were slim too.

“Harley,” Bruce’s voice was still gruff, seeing as he was still mostly Batman at the moment, but his eyes were soft. “Maybe you should tell us what you need help with first. And sit down. You look exhausted.”

Sure enough, there were dark circles under Harley’s eyes. She let Bruce-man lead her over to one of their debriefing tables and sit her down. She let out a huge sigh, her fingers tangling in her loose blond locks.

“I have a confession, and it isn’t gonna leave this cave, capiche?” The slight return of her accent relieved a little of the tension, but not much. Taking this as their cue, the rest of the bats spread out into their usual seats at the table. Bruce stayed near Harley, keeping a hand on her shoulder in silent support. Harley didn’t continue talking until he gave her a solemn nod in agreement. She gulped— an action that immediately returned the tension.

“... fifteen years ago, back when I was still with Joker, I disappeared off the Gotham scene for a few months. I’m sure a few of you remember,” she looked up, and a couple of the older vigilantes nodded. Really, Jason has still been Robin back then. But the memory stuck out in his head now that he was thinking about it.

“Yeah, you were breaking away from him a little bit, which was weird at the time,” Red Hood mused aloud, arms crossed. “I think you helped us out a couple times and did some of your first team ups with Ivy before you vanished. Then a few months go by and you were back in action with Joker, so we mostly ignored it as you just being you.”

Harley nodded. “Ah, my Ivy’s a lifesaver, even back then. She helped cover up the timeline by keeping me in action for longer than I should’a been without putting me at too much risk.”

“Timeline…” Red Robin spoke up, eyes huge even behind his mask. “You don’t mean—“

“Harley,” Bruce breathed, having also caught on. “You were pregnant?”

The air went still. Harley sniffed, eyes watering even as she smiled.

“Oh yeah. Shouldn’t have been possible, ya know? Me ‘n Joker being dumped in that damn acid should have made us both more sterile than an operatin’ room. But I knew I couldn’t raise a kid, so after she was born—“

“You kept her?” Damian interrupted, earning a gentle cuff over the head from Dick. Harley just snorted.

“Yeah. Not gonna lie, I thought about abortion. But the baby didn’t do nothin’ wrong, and I was still in love with Joker back then so I was ecstatic that I was able to make something new with part ‘a him in it. Still, I knew a baby didn’t deserve to be raised in Gotham. Especially not my baby, not with my enemies and history. Not with who her father was. I knew he’d never want her, never let me keep her. So I spent the last five months of my pregnancy lookin’ around for the best possible family to take her in. And I found them in Paris, France. A sweet couple, both of them bakers. Sabine, she’s both adorably sweet and super kickass. Comes from a Chinese family that is crazy about teachin’ their women martial arts. But nothing shady about it, I triple checked. Just bonding through kicking people in the face. Which is perfect, I wanted my baby to know how to defend herself. I knew she’d need those skills eventually. And Tom, that’s Sabine’s wife, he’s a gentle giant. Same size as Bane, but as harmless as a puppy and makes the best croissants ever. Seriously, the best.”

“Harley,” Bruce gently prodded, but there was a tiny grin on his face. Seeing her behaving so… so normally, so proud and reminiscent, was a rare treat. Bruce would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of how far the woman had come. How she had freed herself and become a better person, mostly on her own.

“Right, right. The point,” Harley took a breath, rubbing her forehead. “I came clean to Tom and Sabine, but apparently they knew who I was the whole time. They just didn’t care— did I mention they are perfect? Anyway, once I explained everything, they agreed immediately to adopting my baby. They’d been wanting kids, but it would’a been too risky for Sabine’s health. That’s how I found them anyway, they were in the market to adopt. We named her Marinette. She took Tom and Sabine’s last names, hyphenated. We decided Quinn would be her middle name. And after that, I came back to Gotham and told myself that she was in good hands and I needed to forget about her. Cuz I was no good for her. I knew that. I went back to my old tricks. And then…” Harley chuckled, but it was self-depreciating.

“Then a few years passed, and I started breaking away from Joker for real. Then we broke up, I blew up Ace Chemicals while you guys were outta town doing Justice League and Young Justice shit. I started dating Ivy. And—“ she smiled softly at the table, clearly seeing something the rest of them couldn’t. “Then Ivy convinced me to go see her. Visit my baby, see how she’s been. And I did. Marinette was seven years old, but damn it to hell she was gorgeous. And say whatever you want about me and Joker— most of it will even be true— but neither of us are stupid. And she inherited all of our intelligence. All of it. She got my blue eyes. But she got his hair, which meant Sabine teased me relentlessly about ‘are you sure she isn’t that Wayne’s kid?’ And don’t make that face Bruce, you’d be lucky to have a kid half as beautiful as my Mari-pie. No offense, Damian. Anyway. Anyway, this is the important part. Or part of it.

“She sat there and listened to everything I had to say. Everything. A little seven year old, who could barely understand English at the time, and she listened without interrupting once. She never threw a fit, she wasn’t angry or confused. I told her about the things I’d done in the past— well, G rated versions— and she didn’t care. She called me Momma Harley right away, said she wanted to meet Aunt Ivy sometime soon, and started telling me everything about her that I’d missed. From that day on, she became my sunshine. The light of my life, and I still call her at least once a week every week. When I disappear for a few days out of the city? I’m visiting her—“

“You’re banned from international travel, Harley,” Dick scolded, but he sounded way too amused for it to work. He knew she had her ways, anyway. Nobody could actually stop Harley damn Quinn from doing whatever she wanted.

“—Ugh, she tells me the same thing every time! Disappointed glare and everything. I don’t know how I gave birth to such a goodie goodie, but somehow I did. Not important though! The important thing is, I’m always the first to hear when something new happens in her life. And we had decided that she wouldn’t visit me in Gotham until she was at least eighteen, but apparently she disobeyed me— which I should have expected honestly— and entered you guys’ WE international scholastic competition.”

“Oh no,” Bruce pinched the bridge of her nose. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng? The contest winner?” He finally pulled out a chair and sat down. “The winner gets an all-expense paid trip to Gotham for them and their whole class.”

“Exactly!” Harley threw up her hands. “Mari told me last week, and I’ve been trying to talk her out of coming ever since. But she’s inherited both of our stubbornness too, and she isn’t budgin’ a bit. ‘Momma Harley, I wanna see you and Auntie Ivy though!’ And ‘Momma, Gotham’s nothing I can’t handle,’ or my favorite, ‘Maybe you’ll finally get to see me dropkick someone three times my size then, and I’ll prove it.’”

“So that’s what you meant by you need our help,” Tim said as he leaned forward over the table. “Joker just broke out of Arkham yesterday. You want us to protect her.”

“I’d prefer if one of you was with her outside of the mask too, as often as possible,” Harley confirmed. “I can’t stop her from coming here anymore, but I also don’t trust Joker for a second. As soon as he sees her, I’m afraid he’ll make the connection.”

“She looks like him?” Damian asked, scrunching up his nose at the ugly mental image of Joker as a teenage girl. Harley shook her head, solemn.

“She looks like a dark-haired mini-me,” she corrected. “She even keeps her hair in pigtails as her way of showing support for me. And I know Marinette can kick ass, Sabine’s trained her well. But Marinette inherited more than I’d like from me,” Harley ran a hand through her hair. “I didn’t notice it until she was thirteen. She got a crush on a classmate, and it was almost like watching videos of me back during the early days of— well, of Harley Quinn. Just without the crime and insanity. She didn’t even realize that she was almost stalking the poor kid until I pointed it out, and luckily I was able to put my doctorate to good use and we nipped that right in the bud ASAP. She never meant it that way, anyway. As soon as I explained things to her, she was horrified and immediately asked me to help her learn how to have a healthy relationship. That was a fun discussion,” Harley grimaced. “But she still gets attached to people really, really easily. Once she grew out of her crush on that boy, she adopted him as her unofficial brother. She already calls Selina “Auntie,” even though I’ve barely mentioned her to Marinette. She gets attached fast, and deeply. And I’m afraid that even after all the warning I’ve done, all the stories I’ve told her—“

“You’re afraid she’ll get attached to Joker just like you did,” Bruce finished for her, closing his eyes. “Because she knows he’s her father.”

“Yes,” Tears were slowly dripping down her face already, her hands curled into fists so tightly that her knuckles were paper white. “You know how he is. If he finds out she’s his biological daughter, he’ll immediately try to take advantage of that. And he’s far too good with his words for people like me and Mari. I’m worried outta my mind. Please. Help keep my baby safe from him.”

“We will,” Jason no longer had his helmet on, or the domino mask that he usually wore underneath it. All of them knew masks were merely formality with Harley nowadays. And he needed to look her directly in the eye so she could see how serious he was. “I can sign up as a bodyguard for the class. It won’t be weird, seeing as they’re tourists and this is Gotham. They also have several rich kids in their group if I remember right.”

Bruce nodded, agreeing with Jason. “That’s a good idea. I can lead the class on their tours of WE personally. That’ll serve the purpose of keeping an eye on her and shutting up the investors that keep begging me to make more public appearances for the sake of the company. Marinette’s name is already released to the news as the winner of the contest, so we can’t keep her out of the spotlight long. Tim, you’ll have to keep an eye on any and all pictures of the class. Try to erase or doctor the images with her in it well enough that connections between her and Harley can’t be easily made. Dick, you and Damian will be in charge of keeping an eye out for any activity from Joker. The slightest hint, and you notify all of us. We’ll decide on a case-by-case basis who is necessary to stick with the class and who goes after the clown.”

“She’s gonna sneak out of her hotel to stay with me and Ivy,” Harley admitted, bringing the (now slightly judgemental) attention back to her. She raised her hands up in surrender. “She didn’t tell me that, and I didn’t approve or suggest it! I just know my baby too well to not realize that that’s her plan. Could ya provide an escort?”

Bruce sighed. “This is gonna be an eventful month.”

[lockewrites]

Waking Dreams

The Perfect Storm: Chapter 16

LDB x Miraak || SFW || 4143 words AO3 and FF(.)Net

Telyra deals with the aftermath of learning the new Word.

“You should rest.”

Telyra shrugged at Erik’s suggestion and drained the remainder of her drink; the ashfire mead burned all the way down, warming her body. She didn’t want rest, she wanted to continue their plan: they were nearing the end of this ordeal, she could feel it. But that hadn’t been the only thing keeping her away from sleep…

“You look ready to drop,” Erik continued. “And I know you haven’t drunk enough to be that drunk.” He took a sip of his own mead, far less greedily than Telyra.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. “I’m still just a bit drained. He warned me it would take a while to recover.” Miraak was dealing with the aftermath himself; he’d sent Telyra away from Apocrypha, insisting she take time to rest her body and mind after absorbing the Word while he did the same.

“All the more reason,” Erik replied.

She looked over at him and felt a pang of guilt over the pleading in his eyes, the sheer concern for her.

With a sigh, she yielded. “All right.”

“I’ll be up a while still,” he said.

After tossing a few coins on the counter and bidding Erik goodnight, Telyra headed to their room. She let her body fall onto her bed but immediately sat upright to keep from falling asleep right away. The movement caused her head to swim.

“Okay,” she mumbled to herself. “Think of… think of the college.”

She closed her eyes and tried to pull forward those memories: the cold that suddenly dissipated as soon as one stepped through the gates past the bridge despite the snow; the luminous blue pulsing from the basin below the statue in the center of the courtyard; her classmates gathering in the great hall for lectures; Tolfdir berating them for not focusing. Her chest felt light and warm, thinking of a time when her most pressing concern was an exam.

“Dream of Winterhold,” she pleaded, to herself and to Akatosh or Talos, whoever would listen. Telyra whispered her prayer once more before lying down and closing her eyes.

It didn’t take long for sleep to come to her; Erik had been right. Exhaustion had been her companion since her last visit to Apocrypha, and not much effort was put in to send it away.

Telyra’s prayer was answered, her dream building the walls of the college around her, surrounding her with the buzzing energy of magic. She was dressed in her college robes, the fabric smelling just as she remembered; ozone and faintly herbal soap the bedkeepers used for the laundry–she’d never been able to find it at any market since leaving.

“Are you joining us, Telyra?” Tolfdir’s voice echoed softly against the stone of the great hall.

She turned to see her old professor standing in front of several mages, including Onmund and Brelyna.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice sounding a little less raspy than she remembered. “Sorry!”

“Welcome back,” Onmund whispered as she approached. “Hasn’t been the same without you here.”

“Things got… complicated,” she replied, giving him a smile.

“Do you two want to lead this class?” Tolfdir asked, raising his bushy, white brow.

“No,” Onmund uttered. “Sorry, Professor.”

“Good,” Tolfdir said. “Now, barring any further interruptions–we’ll be discussing wards.”

Lip curling, Telyra let out a sigh.

“Care to demonstrate?” he asked, his eyes looking pointedly at Telyra.

Her face flushed, embarrassed at being called out, though she should’ve been more than used to it.

“Of course, Professor,” she said.

The students parted down the middle in synchrony, leaving the space between Telyra and Tolfdir open. She held her hand out in front of her, fingers splayed; calling forth her magic, she produced a small, protective shield. Before she had time to blink, a bolt of flame burst against the ward.

“Excellent,” Tolfdir said. “But magical attacks rarely occur in singularity.”

He released a few more attacks toward her, each fizzling as they were absorbed by her ward. It took little effort to keep herself from getting singed.

“Now,” Tolfdir began, “what of the rest of the class?”

Telyra took a step to join her classmates, but the professor raised his hand, silently instructing her to stop.

“You misunderstand, dear.” His voice took an unsettling dark tone. “Can you protect the rest of the class?”

“What?”

Without further explanation, Tolfdir began throwing stronger attacks at her, ones with a greater area of effect. Her classmates screeched in fear and hurried behind her; Onmund stood closest.

She expanded the ward, the filmy surface growing to form a wall-like barrier. A shield of this size would drain her far quicker, but Tolfdir’s attacks weren’t halting.

“What the hell are you doing?!” she screamed.

“You have to protect them,” he replied, his voice eerily calm and somehow traveling over the sounds of exploding magicka.

“You have to protect us,” Onmund repeated. He placed a hand on her lower back. “You have to.”

Her brows furrowed, sweat gathering along her hairline, both from the exertion and the anxiety filling her.

“Help me!” she pleaded, daring a glance at Onmund.

He shook his head. “This is your job. You have to protect us.”

“You have to protect us,” another student said. It sounded like Brelyna.

Cracks began to form in her ward, sounding like the breaking of glass as each of the professor’s attacks landed.

“You have to protect us. You have to protect us.” The students’ voices grew into a cacophony of the repeated words.

“I’m trying!” she cried, tears stinging her eyes.

“No, you’re not.” Onmund’s hand fell from her back. “If you were really trying, we’d already be safe.”

“What?” The tears were running down her cheeks. “What does that mean?”

The ward suddenly burst, and her classmates screamed as Tolfdir’s flames engulfed them; Telyra’s voice joined them. She ducked down, covering her face as the heat wrapped around her, the light stinging her eyes even as they were closed.

Everything grew cold then, as the fire disappeared.

She opened her eyes, blinking hard as they adjusted to the now-dim lighting. Tolfdir was gone. The walls were in ruin. And her classmates were naught but skeletal remains littering the stone floor. Burnt flesh and fabric overwhelmed her senses, and she doubled over, releasing her stomach’s contents.

As she stood back up, the broken stone and skeletons of the college and its students were gone entirely, replaced by green hills and massive evergreens, and a battalion of dead bodies. The sickly burnt smell remained, but not nearly as strong; it traveled away with a breeze that felt far too calm for the carnage surrounding her.

A familiar beat sounded, bringing with it gusts of air. Telyra looked up, panicking as she saw a dragon’s form circling overhead, growing larger as it drew closer to the ground.

But she didn’t attack. She didn’t even move; no attempt to hide or run away or prepare herself for a fight. She simply watched.

The dragon’s snake-like head came into view, and Telyra couldn’t help but smile, recognizing her dear friend.

“Sahrotaar,” she said to herself.

He landed in front of her, bowing his head.

“My lady,” he said, his voice deep and guttural. “Commander Ahzidal brings word. She has claimed victory against Rahgot’s forces, but the priest himself managed to evade her.”

Telyra shook her head, stopping briefly to touch the mask on her face. Confusion nicked at her mind a moment before she returned her attention to Sahrotaar.

“Rahgot,” she spat. “Always so cowardly.”

“Shall I return you to the temple?” the dragon asked.

“Yes,” Telyra replied. She glanced around herself once more, the grass as green as ever; untouched, barely moving with the wind. Furrowing her brow, that tinge of confusion returned. “I… I think I am quite finished here.”

After climbing into Sahrotaar’s saddle, they arrived at her temple in what felt like the blink of an eye. Ahzidal was waiting, her usual impatience well-settled in the hard lines of her face.

“I trust you saw success,” she said, greeting Telyra with a tight grip on her forearm.

She paused a moment before replying, “Of course.” Noting Ahzidal’s lack of company, she added, “Dukaan will be here soon?”

Ahzidal nodded, her graying coils bouncing with the movement. “Zahkriisos and Vahlok are awaiting you in the council chambers.” She stepped to the side and held out her arm, beckoning Telyra inside with a lowering of her head; despite the leniency granted with her words, Ahzidal never forgot to show her respect to whom she vowed her loyalty.

Giving her a nod, Telyra entered the temple. Everyone bowed to her as she passed, venturing through her halls that once served the dragons and now housed the heart of a revolution.

The doors to the council room opened as she approached, revealing Vahlok, standing in a pool of crimson with his sword drawn and bloodied, the tip disappearing into Zahkriisos’s chest.

“Vahlok!” Telyra’s Voice shook the walls. “What have you done?”

Her lover took a step back and turned his gaze toward her, sending her body’s warmth fleeing. He lunged at her. Their bodies collided and fell to the floor, the force knocking both their masks off; the stone collapsed beneath them, leaving them falling through the air for an inexplicable amount of time.

Finally, they landed somewhere outside, the walls of the temple nonexistent, replaced by green hills and massive evergreens, and a battalion of dead bodies. But Telyra’s eyes remained fixed on Vahlok’s as he pinned her wrists down and straddled her hips. The sun shone brightly behind him, illuminating his golden fly-away hairs, and dipping the rest of him in shadow. She stared, searching within that familiar gaze for any hint of an explanation for why he betrayed them, betrayed her.

“Why?” she heard her voice ask, but she didn’t feel her lips move.

She was given no answer; not in his words, nor in his eyes. They held the same warmth she’d always seen in them, the same glint of affection wrapped in honey. It left her heart aching and wanting.

His grip on her wrists tightened as he lowered himself, hesitating just a moment before pressing his lips to hers, hard and desperate. Sliding his hands down, he slipped them under her back and lifted her to his chest, bringing them both upright.

Telyra wrapped her legs around his waist, leaving no space between her and her lover. Her hands disappeared into his hair, the soft waves rippling through her fingers.

Their kiss broke, both stopping for air.

“I love you,” she whispered, nausea filling her the moment the words escaped her lips.

He shook his head. “You should not.”

Something pierced her side, sending her body jolting upright.

“Telyra?”

Her breath came in spurts, heart racing and adrenaline pumping through her. She frantically looked around, but her vision was blurred, unable to make out her surroundings.

“Telyra!”

She flinched as someone gripped her shoulders.

“Hey! Easy!” Erik said. “Calm down. You’re all right.”

Telyra blinked at him a few times before reality broke through the fog in her mind.

“Erik,” she breathed. Her hand pressed into her side, half-expecting to feel it sticky with blood, but her fingers returned clean. “Gods.” She pressed her palms into her eyes, attempting to force away the images still caught beneath her eyelids.

“Must’ve been a hell of a nightmare,” Erik remarked.

With a shake of her head, she replied, “It wasn’t the worst. Just… “ She trailed off and let out a heavy sigh.

“Was it about Miraak again?”

Telyra glanced at him, irritation filling her at the accusation, but she bit her tongue before saying anything she’d regret. Her gaze fell to her hands in her lap, pondering what she could say that would skirt the truth but wouldn’t be an outright lie. Erik worried about her enough, and her frustration was misdirected; he deserved better.

“No,” she answered. “Miraak wasn’t in this one.” She looked over at him again; he stared at her, waiting for her to explain further. “Believe it or not, this was a pretty normal nightmare,” she added, forcing some levity in her voice. “Someone stabbed me.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, as though contemplating the truth of her words. “You should get back to sleep,” he said after a few moments. “We still have a couple hours before dawn.”

Nodding in agreement, she rolled over, facing away from Erik as he returned to his own bed.

The visions of the body-strewn college and hills still beset her mind. The screams of her classmates, of her old friends. And their desperate words. You have to protect us. You have to protect us.

Her eyes squeezed shut, causing a rumbling in her ears, but it didn’t quite drown out the echoes. Thankfully, Erik soon filled the room with his snores, and it provided just enough distraction for Telyra to attempt to fall back into sleep.

But as she lay there, snippets of the dream returned. Not the cries, this time, but of the temple. Unsettling, to say the least, to experience life as Miraak. To feel her own body, hear her own voice, live his past, or at least some twisted dream-version of it. To touch and be touched by his former lover; that felt far more invasive than if she were to sneak a peek through a keyhole into their bedroom.

Falling to her back, she let out a long breath and stared at the ceiling. This was not the first night her dreams had been plagued with nightmares and glimpses into Miraak’s past; she’d normally welcome the opportunity to see what had made Miraak into the man he was, but this… this was a stolen chapter of his, something he didn’t share willingly.

It was often nights such as this when she contemplated going to Miraak for guidance; surely he would’ve had some idea how to make the visions stop. But the timing was simple to follow: only after taking in that word, kast , did she begin dealing with the hauntings of someone else’s past. Miraak had fought to keep from sharing; was this why? Had he known what she’d suffer through? She couldn’t give him reason to regret more than he already had.

“Telyra?”

She opened her eyes, regretting doing so so quickly; the light of the candles and lanterns was surprisingly bright, causing an ache behind her eyes.

“I let you sleep in a bit, but,” Erik began, “it’s getting late. We promised Talvas we’d stop by.”

After sitting up, she rubbed the apparent sleep from her eyes and yawned as she spoke. “Right. He wanted help with his spell or something.”

Erik was already dressed, light and ready for the minor trek from Raven Rock to Tel Mithryn. It didn’t take long for Telyra to do the same, though her movements were noticeably sluggish.

Their journey to Neloth’s fungal home was one of silence, other than Erik’s occasional comment on the weather or terrain–both of which were nothing but gray. Telyra certainly appreciated the quiet; she was too in her own head to offer much in the way of conversation, and there was always a chance Erik would glean some bit of info she intended to keep to herself. He fretted too much on her behalf already.

Talvas stood outside, ready to greet up well before they even showed up, if the exasperated look on his face was anything to go by. But it softened as they approached and soon broke out in a genuine smile.

“I wasn’t sure you were still coming,” he said.

Erik returned his smile. “We had a bit of a late start. Sorry.” He glanced at Telyra who merely gave a curt nod. Turning back to Talvas, he asked, “What did you need from us?”

The Dunmer looked between the two, but his gaze held on Erik far longer. “I’m still struggling with Master Neloth’s ash guardian spell. I would appreciate it if you two could stand ready should the spell… go awry.”

“We can certainly do that,” Erik replied. He nudged Telyra. “Right, Telly?”

She started at the nickname, smiling and returning the nudge, quite a bit harder than his. “Yes, yes, we can do that.”

“Excellent!” Talvas said. “I’ve deciphered more of Master Neloth’s writing. I’m hoping it’s enough to properly cast the spell.”

While the Dunmer read through the tome a few times, Telyra sat upon one of the roots of Neloth’s enormous mushrooms. Erik offered his own expertise in reading chicken scratch after years of working with his father at the inn. She was content to watch the two.

“Could that be ‘warm’ or ‘worm’?” Talvas asked.

“He has a loop in this ‘o’ here,” Erik replied. He squinted and leaned his face closer to the page, pointing to various spots. “But he doesn’t have one here. I don’t think ‘worm’ works in this context… or does it?”

“With Master Neloth?” Talvas said. “Anything could fit the context.”

Erik appeared relaxed, far moreso than she’d seen since arriving in Solstheim. In their travels, he had a penchant for solving puzzles she never would’ve guessed; not that she believed him to be simple, but growing up in Rorikstead with a father who feared stepping beyond the village boundaries, it didn’t seem Erik had much chance to be anything more than the innkeeper’s son.

“That has to be it!” Erik said.

Telyra’s head shot up; he and Talvas stared at the book with unbridled glee.

“Master Neloth has some inside,” Talvas remarked. “Though, I doubt he’ll give one to me.”

“We could borrow one,” Erik suggested.

“It says the heart stone will be consumed upon casting the spell,” he retorted, pointing at the page.

“Yes, but we can always replace it.”

The apprentice’s excitement disappeared. “I don’t think stealing from Master Neloth is safe.”

“It’s not stealing,” he replied. “‘Borrow.’ Is he here?”

“No, but–”

“We’ll replace it!” Erik assured. He looked to Telyra. “We’ll be right back.” His cheer was still blatant, despite his lack of interest in magic. He headed up the hill, toward the main mushroom, practically carrying Talvas with him.

While Erik made it known he enjoyed combat, she caught a glimpse of joy whenever he worked out a difficult problem. She’d probably have gotten herself killed twenty times over with an incorrect solution to a trapped puzzle or a wrong path chosen were it not for him.

And for all of that, her thanks came in the form of reasons to worry and near-death experiences. It wasn’t right. He shouldn’t have ever had to save her. She was the Dragonborn. She was the savior. She was supposed to save him, to save all of them, all of Skyrim.

Her stomach twisted, and her breathing quickened. Telyra swallowed hard and forced a deep breath in and out. It didn’t work. The pressure continued to build within her, tearing at the back of her throat as her eyes burned. She pressed her hands against her eyes, as though she could literally hold the tears back. But that didn’t work either. Pushing to her feet, she began to pace, hoping some form of movement would untie the knot in her gut.

Erik and Talvas returned soon after, their approaching bodies catching in Telyra’s periphery.

“I’m going to take a walk,” she called out, turning before he had a chance to ask anything. If something went wrong with the spell, the two of them would be able to handle it, she thought.

Her feet dragged in the ashy sand, her eyes cast down as she trudged along. No mind paid to where she headed, she simply sought isolation and distraction, but there was little to be had in a barren wasteland. Very few bird calls, very little wind, and naught but the scent of embers that permeated through the entire island. Still, she continued on.

Lost in thought, tormenting herself with guilt and anxiety. A constant barrage of ‘Not good enough,’ ‘Not strong enough,’ ‘Risking too much for one man.’ Miraak .

Her steps halted, a new wave of guilt settling over her. It wasn’t too much; she needed him, she had no chance of defeating Alduin otherwise. Perhaps it was asking too much of Erik, to expect him to remain at her side through all of this, but the rest? Skyrim would survive for the time being. Miraak needed her; he didn’t deserve to rot in Oblivion for eternity. To consider leaving him to such a fate, that was truly unworthy of the Dragonborn.

As her eyes refocused on her surroundings after glazing over during her inner monologue, she found herself looking over a sea of green. The birds were far more active, the wind even moreso, carrying with it the scent of dirt and pine. It was beautiful and completely unfamiliar.

Telyra turned and found the green stretched far behind her, shadowed by a canopy of evergreens she hadn’t noticed. She headed back, following the trail of her heavy footsteps.

She missed him, she admitted to herself. Riding with him on Sahrotaar, even for a short while, sparring, spending hours reading beside each other. It felt as though a lifetime had passed since she’d seen him.

His blond hair, his golden eyes–her brows pinched together. Gold?

“Have you forgotten already?” a voice sounded beside her.

“Vahlok.” She smiled. “I feel as though I see less and less of you as the war carries on.”

“I know,” he replied. “War is not kind to those in love. I fear Ahzidal to be even crueler, however, should I choose to remain at your side rather than aid in the war effort.”

“Truly.” Telyra hooked her arm in his. “It is during these brief moments of respite that I feel any semblance of peace. One day, this shall be our norm.”

They continued through the trees, their steps falling in line with one another’s. Despite the joy guiding her forward, a sense of foreboding tickled the back of her mind; but, when did one ever achieve true peace while in the middle of a war? She brushed the thought away, opting to revel in the quiet moment shared.

The trees gave way to an open field, and past that was the ocean, crashing against the cliffside. How long had it been since she stepped foot here? To have forgotten these cliffs? The waves grew louder as they approached, kicking up misty, salted air.

“Do you recall, prior to our induction into the priesthood,” Vahlok began, “anything we had done for pure delight?”

She tilted her head. “What is it you mean?”

“Our lives have been dedicated to the dragons,” he explained, “in one form or another. Whether it be our schooling or our training, or now this war.”

Telyra hummed in thought, trying to pull any recollection from so long ago. “I… I do not know that I have any such memories.”

His perfect lips fell into a frown. “A part of me pities you, to have forgone, whether by your choice or not, those times of merriment.”

“I do not want your pity,” she replied, smiling and placing a hand on his cheek.

He leaned into it and returned her grin. “Another part of me envies you. It is difficult to yearn for that which you cannot recall. To think of those times brings both joy and sorrow.”

Her smile faltered. “To hear you speak of it brings its own sense of bittersweet.”

Vahlok’s eyes moved to the cliff’s edge, a mischievous, childlike pull on his lips. “Do you wish to create new memories?”

She followed his line of sight. “What exactly have you in mind?”

Their gazes returned to each other.

“Fly with me.”

Telyra laughed nervously. “Surely you jest.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Let us touch the air as the dragons do for even the briefest of moments.”

“Vahlok,” she said. Her eyes darted to the edge once more. “That is quite the drop.”

“The waves will catch us,” he insisted. “You often face fear with death so great a possibility. This? This naught but child’s play. Embrace that childlike ferocity with me, while we still have the chance.”

She looked between him and the waters below; her stomach flipping as she spoke her next words. “May Ahzidal show you mercy should I perish.” She gave him a smile.

Vahlok beamed at her and took her hand. They inched toward the edge, sharing nervous glances before he began to count down.

“One. Two.” He paused just long enough to be dramatic. “Three!”

Together, they leapt. His hand disappeared from hers as they fell, and she could no longer see him from the corner of her eye. And before she had a chance to look, she collided with the water’s surface and was swallowed by the waves.

[yourlocalfictionalenthusiast]

IN LIFE, IN DEATH...

Part One

Luke Patterson x Fem!reader

Summary: All you wanted was to play the biggest gig of your life with your best friends, but you just might get more than you bargained for.

Warnings: death and some swearing (I don’t think there is anything else but if there is, let me know!)

…

May 1994

“Shit.”

You whispered to yourself as you stared at the old clock on the diner’s wall.

It had only been half an hour since your shift started, but you were already anxious for it to be over.

Cece’s diner was normally one of your favorite places in the world. It was a small, poorly lit building in a boring part of L.A. It didn’t see much business since it wasn’t easy to find. But the air always smelled like fresh coffee and cinnamon.

You loved working there, but it was not where you wanted to be right now.

“You okay, (Y/n)?” A voice asked from behind the counter. You turned to see your boss Cece, a petite middle-aged woman who was eyeing the dirty table in front of you that you were supposed to be cleaning.

“Yeah, sorry. My mind is somewhere else.” You admitted, throwing the empty plates in the tray and carrying them to the kitchen.

Cece shook her head and let out a laugh as she followed. “On a certain guitarist, perhaps?”

Your cheeks flushed and Cece laughed again, grabbing the rag off her shoulder and smacking it against your arm lightly.

She was one of the few people who knew about your feelings for Luke Patterson. One of your best friends, childhood crush, and most recently, your bandmate.

“And for your information, I’m thinking about all of the band because we’re practicing tonight.”

“Uh-huh.” Cece hummed, a sly smile on her face.

She always pretended to be annoyed with your ramblings since you joined sunset curve, saying that a sixteen-year-old girl had no business being in a rock band. But you had caught her bragging about you to the few regulars you had multiple times.

She had a son living a few states away, but they weren’t close. So she treated you like her daughter. Which meant she wasn't the biggest fan of you constantly hanging around a bunch of teenage boys. But eventually, she warmed up to them. Especially Alex;  he was her favorite.

Luke, on the other hand, annoyed her to no end.

You ran the dishes under hot water and pressed a kiss to Cece’s cheek as you walked past her and back into the main room.

“Besides, Luke doesn’t like me like that.”

Cece rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to speak but the shrill ring of the phone cut her off. You let out a sigh, grateful for the distraction. She meant well, but when it came to your situation with Luke, you were more than happy to live in denial and ignoring it altogether.

He was your best friend. That’s all that mattered right now.

You shook the thoughts from your head and grabbed the phone’s receiver. “Cece’s Diner. How can I help you?”

“How much do you love me?”

Speak of the devil.

Your heart raced at the sound of Luke’s voice rang through your ears. His choice of words definitely not helping to calm you down. You shook your head, mentally scolding yourself.

“Luke?” You asked which prompted Cece to raise an eyebrow from the other side of the room.

“Hey. I’m sorry for calling you at work but I can’t finish this song and it’s driving me nuts. I need you and your genius brain to come help me.”

Despite your protests, the tap dance in your chest continued. It was ridiculous that after knowing Luke all your life, you were still shocked when he complimented you like that.

“I don’t get off until six, but I’ll come after.” You said, trying not to smile when you heard him cheer in victory. “And before Reggie asks, yes, I’ll bring coffee.”

Luke laughed before singing into the phone. “Get me a large with extra whipped cream and cinnamon.”

“I hate you.” You sang back, making a mental note to wipe off the smirk you could practically hear in his voice before the line went dead. You sighed as you put the phone back on the hook, holding a finger out to Cece.

“Not a word.”

A few hours later, you walked into Bobby’s garage, carrying a cardboard tray in each arm.

You sighed as you looked around the room. Every surface was covered in discarded paper balls and empty fast-food wrappers. You had expected to hear some form of music or at least some talking but the room was dead silent.

In the center of the mess, Alex and Reggie sat on the floor. Alex was trying to balance his drumsticks on his nose, and Reggie was mindlessly strumming his bass. Luke was sitting back on the couch, his eyebrows tightly knitted together as he frantically scribbled into his notebook.

“Your savior is here, and I come bearing coffee.”

All three heads whipped in your direction and within seconds, Reggie was excitedly bouncing his way towards you. He reached out to swipe a cup from the tray in your left hand. You swatted his arm away.

"Not that one. That’s Al’s.”

You set the rest of the drinks on the table in front of you and walked up to Alex. You handed him the cup and he gave you an appreciative smile. You always made sure to get him hot chocolate or tea, since you learned the hard way that caffeine can sometimes make his anxiety worse. He told you he didn’t want to admit that to the guys. So you were happy covering for him.

“Why does he get his own special one?” Reggie pouted as he grabbed another cup and strolled over to Luke, plopping down next to him on the couch. “And why is she the only one who can call you ‘Al’?”

“Because I’m his favorite.” You said, poking Reggie’s cheek as you passed him and took the other seat on the couch next to Luke. Alex just nodded, trying to hold back a smile.

“I thought you didn’t get off for another hour.” Luke said, looking up from his songbook for the first time since you got there.

“Cece knew it was important band stuff so she let me off early.” You shrugged.

“Oh no, she’s not mad at me, is she?” Luke shivered, thinking of all the times Cece had chewed him out for being a ‘bad influence’ on you or made him wipe down some tables for accidentally making you late for a shift. “You know I can’t stand when that woman is mad at me.”

“I also know that all you have to do is give her your little puppy-dog look and she’ll instantly forgive you.”

“Yeah, you guys are alike that way.” Luke teased, sticking his bottom lip out and batting his eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, yeah. So, what have you got so far?” You said as you bumped his shoulder with yours. He grinned and started translating his messy handwriting for all of you.

The four of you sat there for an hour putting all the words in the right places and by the time Bobby got there, you all felt confident that it was finally finished. You took your place behind your microphone and nodded.

“Okay, Al. Count us down.”

Alex twirled his drumsticks. “1…2…3…4!”

June, 1995

“Don’t look down.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you sang the song you had written a year ago. Your feet bouncing on the stage, the thin layer of sweat on your forehead.

To your left, Luke raised his arms, trying to hype up the non-existent crowd. Alex clashed his drumsticks together to the beat as all your voices came together.

“Cause we’re still rising up right now.”

You clapped along to the song, the energy coursing through your veins. Luke was in the middle of throwing his guitar behind his back. You rolled your eyes at him and he flashed you a small bashful smile before turning his head.

Your heart fluttered but you forced yourself to turn the other way, singing with Reggie just as the song transferred out of the bridge. The fog machines cued the ending chorus and you gripped your microphone with both hands.

“And even if we hit the ground, we’ll still fly.

Keep dreaming like we’ll live forever.

But living like it’s now or never.“

The other boy's voices dropped out until it was just you and Luke singing the chorus. You looked over at him, but his eyes were glued to the front of the room. Normally, you would share a mic for this part or at least stand close together, but he seemed determined to avoid you.

Just like he had been for the last six months.

You ignored the gaping pit in your stomach and poured all your focus into the song.

“Like it’s now or never!

It’s now or never!“

The final riff sounded and you let out an exhausted but proud sigh. There were a few scattered claps from the staff in the venue. But a curly-haired girl behind the counter was cheering especially loud. Reggie winked at her and leaned into his mic.

“Thank you! We’re Sunset Curve. Tell your friends.”

You rolled your eyes at him and pulled his arm, dragging him to the center of the stage. Alex came from his drum set and you gave him a high five.

“Al, you were amazing!”

“Yeah, dude, you were smoking.” Reggie agreed.

Alex blushed. “Nah, man. I was just warming up. You guys were the ones on fire.”

Reggie rolled his eyes. “Can you just own your awesomeness for once?”

Bobby and Luke nodded in agreement and you raised your eyebrows at Alex, nudging him until he finally smiled. “Okay, I was killing it!”

“I’m thinking we should fuel up before the show. Street dogs?” Luke asked. Alex and Reggie hummed in agreement but you wrinkled your nose.

“I think I’m gonna pass.” You said, jumping off the stage. It wasn’t that you had anything against street dogs, but as far as pre-gig activities go, it didn’t make your top ten list. 

Bobby landed next to you and started jogging towards the counter. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair and approached the girl wiping tables.

“Oh no.” You said. “Bobby, leave that poor girl alone.”

Bobby turned around just enough to give you a glare as you both reached the counter. The rest of the boys weren’t far behind. You felt Luke slip behind you and throw an arm on Bobby’s shoulder.

Bobby told the girl some line about being a vegetarian. But she shook it off, looking over all of you.

“You guys are really good.”

You smiled proudly. “Thank you.”

She returned your smile. “I’ve seen a lot of bands. Even been in a couple myself. I was really feeling it.”

Luke was practically beaming. The whole band contributed with the songs, of course, but you and Luke were the main writers, so it was always nice to hear people compliment your words. “That’s what we do this for. I’m Luke, by the way.”

“Hey, I’m Reggie.”

“Alex.”

“Bobby.”

“And I’m (Y/n).”

“Nice to meet you guys. I’m Rose.” She said, turning to you. “You have a great voice, by the way. It’s always cool to see a girl lead vocalist.”

Bobby snorted. You elbowed him and Luke gave him a wet-willy. “Oh, thank you. But I’m just co-lead.”

She opened her mouth to say something else but Reggie reached in his back pocket and pulled out a C.D and a t-shirt, handing them to her. “Here’s our demo, and a T-shirt, size beautiful.”

As if on cue, you and Alex rolled your eyes. You sent Rose an apologetic look as she held the shirt up to her body.

“Thanks, I’ll try not to wipe down the tables with this one.”

Alex nodded. “Good call! When they get wet, they kind of fall apart in your hands.”

Bobby glared at all of you. “Don’t you guys have to go get hot dogs?”

Luke pushed Bobby back and leaned on the counter with both arms. “Yeah, he had a hamburger for lunch.”

The boys started going towards the exit but stopped when Alex noticed you hesitating. “You coming?”

You really didn’t want hotdogs, but you also didn’t want to stay and listen to Bobby attempt to flirt with Rose. So you nodded and followed Alex to the door.

“Hey, (Y/n)!” Rose called out and you turned around. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

You gave her a warm smile before walking out into the alley. The night air hit your skin and you shivered slightly. It wasn’t cold, but it was definitely a change from the sweaty stage. You wrapped your jacket around your shoulders.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Luke whooped as he jumped through the doors and into the alleyway.

Alex gestured around, wrinkling his nose. “The smell of Sunset Boulevard?”

Luke shoved his shoulder. “No.”

You jumped out of the way as Luke splashed in a puddle. “It’s what that girl said in there. About our music.”

His eyes flickered to you when he said ‘our’ but quickly looked away. It was practically the first time he had acknowledged your presence all night.

“It connects us with people, you know? They can feel us when we play.” He said excitedly, slowing his walking until the rest of you caught up with him.

He reached each arm up and pulled Reggie to his side with one arm and despite being right next to you, he pulled Alex to his other side. You turned your head forward to hide the confused look on your face but you knew Alex saw it.

Other than Cece, he was the only person who knew about your feelings for Luke. You could tell from the look on his face that he was just as confused with Luke’s recent behavior as you were, but he didn’t say anything.

“I want that connection with everybody.”

“Then we’re gonna need more T-shirts.” You heard Reggie say as you reached the end of the alley. You pulled up the hood of your jacket and turned your head away from the line in front of the venue.

You didn't mean to walk so fast, but you were the first one at the alleyway a few blocks away from the Orpheum. You made your hotdog and made small talk with the vendor for a few minutes before the guys caught up.

“You trying to ditch us, (Y/n)?” Reggie asked, putting ingredients on his hotdog.

“Not my fault you guys are slow.” You stuck your tongue at him and he squinted at you. Alex groaned. You looked over at him to see him trying to put a pickle on his tray.

“Man, I can’t wait until the day we can eat someplace where the condiments aren’t served out of the back of an Oldsmobile.”

As he apologized to the vendor for getting pickle juice on his battery cables, you, Luke, and Reggie made your way to one of the old couches. They both sat down, leaving one open space next to Luke.

You made a point of sitting on the arm of the couch, letting your feet dangle on the seat. If Luke was going to avoid you, then you were going to avoid him right back. You also avoided the questioning look Reggie gave you before Alex sat down.

Luke didn’t seem to notice. He was bouncing his leg and couldn’t seem to stop smiling, it was obvious that he was still buzzing with energy from the soundcheck.

“This is awesome, you guys.” He said as he made himself comfortable between Reggie and Alex. “We’re playing the Orpheum! Do you know how many bands that played here ended up being huge?”

You rolled your eyes and smiled while the boys chuckled. You were all used to seeing the intense side of Luke, but he had been an even bigger ball of excited energy ever since you booked the Orpheum gig. It could be a little much for the guys sometimes, but the way his eyes lit up when he talked about music never failed to make you smile.

“I’m serious.” Luke insisted as he leaned forward and raised his hotdog in a toast. “Eat up, guys. Because after tonight, everything changes.”

You all toasted and then started to eat. Usually, street dogs weren’t half bad. But this time there was a burnt, nasty flavor that made it hard to swallow. Alex saw your face and nodded in agreement.

Even Luke, who had a super-human stomach, made a face. But his hunger must’ve won out cause he took another big bite.

“That’s a new flavor.” Alex said with his mouth full.

“Relax, man. Street dogs haven’t killed us yet.” Reggie told him as he took another bite. You still didn’t feel one hundred percent confident about it but you shrugged and kept eating.

It all happened so fast.

At first, it felt like you were dreaming. Like maybe you had just fallen asleep and would eventually wake up and realize that everything was just a nightmare.

But then the outline of Los Angeles floated away in a haze of grey and you were left in the dark. There was nothing but silence until you heard a voice somewhere in front of you.

It was the sound of Alex’s frantic ranting.

You could feel Reggie and Luke next to you, but they didn’t say anything. You didn’t either.

But you didn’t really need to. It was glaringly obvious what happened, you could feel it in your bones.

You were dead.

Alex’s ranting slowly turned into crying, which made you cry. Luke heard your quiet sniffles and for the first time in months, he touched you.

He reached out and intertwined your fingers loosely in his, gently swiping his thumb across your knuckles. You closed your eyes, trying to soak up the feeling. This was the closest to him you had been in since that night in the studio.

It seemed like so long ago, but at the same time, it was all too familiar. You knew that if you stayed in this moment with him any longer, you would fall apart completely.

So you turned away from him and buried your head in Alex’s shoulder. It seemed like hours passed before the silence was broken and the opening of Now or Never filled the air.

“Is that…?” You started, but before you could finish, the floor disappeared from under you.

You hit the ground with a painful groan and blinked at the sudden flood of bright light. You felt movement next to you and saw Reggie struggling to get up.

You hauled yourself up and turned around to realize you were back in Bobby’s garage. It looked so different that you almost didn’t recognize it. There was a new grand piano and flowers on every table. The room was free of any trash or discarded flannels.

But the biggest change by far, was the girl standing in front of you.

She was about your age with brown hair tied in a ponytail, in a bright yellow shirt, and furry slippers. She was staring at the four of you with wide eyes and a terrified look on her face.

“How did we get back here?” Luke said as he scanned the studio.

The girl screamed, which made the boys scream and cling to each other. Reggie threw himself against Luke and pulled you behind him.

They all screamed for a few more seconds before the girl ran out of the garage doors. You cautiously walked out from behind Reggie and towards the middle of the room, spinning in a full circle.

The boys started talking but you were still mesmerized by all the changes made to the studio.

You looked up towards the ceiling and saw that there were chairs hanging by the loft and countless tiny plants by the windows but you could still see the nail polish-stain you had made on the carpet and the dents in the beams from all the times Luke had messed up his guitar throw.

Carefully, you reached towards the piano and tried to touch a vase of flowers but they passed right through your fingers. Your entire hand went numb then a tingly feeling spread throughout your body.

Well, two things were for sure.

You were definitely back, but you were definitely dead.

[human-do-a-worm]

Ramblings of an Old Soldier Part 3/3

Sorry about the wait. The second dose of COVID vaccine drains you a lot more than the first dose. Anyways here’s part 3, part 1 and part 2 can be found here.

Admiral Sturm sat on the park bench as he always did. Sipping on his coffee and reading the latest news from his datapad. Once again, the Unkall boy approached him and sat beside him on the bench. He noticed that the aging Terran was wearing a strange uniform, with the image of a furred beast embroidered on the chest and upper right arm.

“Good afternoon Mr. Sturm.” “Ah, hello there son. Back for story time again?” “Yes sir. I was wondering what happened after the summit. Almost all traces of you vanished from records 8 cycles ago, and the only mentions of you after that were how the Terran Navy wanted you back.”

“Well, as I said the other day, I became a merc. My crew and I were the best. We took contracts from the Segmentum Norrus, all the way down to the Serectan Void. We didn’t work like most mercenary groups. We sought out our clients, and saw a lot of business. Everything from running escort duty on supply runs to desperate worlds, to taking down entire groups of bandits and pirates. Wherever we went, outlaws and tyrants alike feared the sight of The Wolf’s Den.”

“The Wolf’s Den? I think we heard about a group of people using that ship last cycle in our Galactic History class. Something about taking part in the Gingral war, only a few cycles ago.” “Ah yes, the Gingral war. Some of the bloodiest fighting I’ve ever seen. That was the last contract my crew and I took. We started off in a small role; mostly just escorting supply freighters to the border colonies since most of the supply lines had been cut and the colonists were starving. Our last supply run had been going well, until 6 light cruisers decloaked and opened fire. We did the best we could, but the supply freighter carrying food and civilians was destroyed in only a few minutes.”

“We could have escaped after that. Made a jump to the nearest Unkall station and gotten reinforcements, but My crew and I all knew what had to be done. We knew that the Gingral had to pay. They may have outnumbered us 6 to 1, and they may have had us outgunned, but they didn’t account for us having a mark 7 jump core. We warped around behind them and took down 2 of the light cruisers rather easily, but then we took a hit. The jump core cut out, and we were relying only on engine power.”

“But The Wolf’s Den must have survived somehow. The history logs said that it served through the entirety of the Gingral War.”

“That’s almost right. We knew that we wouldn’t be able to keep her together much longer, so we did what all Terrans do in situations like this. We became unpredictable. We gave all power to weapons and blasted the furthest ship from us, then mustered to the airlocks. We put on EVA gear and as soon as we were close enough to the next ship, we boarded.” “Wasn’t ship boarding added to the prohibited activities of War after the Terran war?” “It was, but targeting civilians has always been among the prohibited activities of War, so we were still committing a lesser infraction. We blasted open the port hangar with a plasma charge, and cleared the first room. Then we cleared the rest of the ship up to the bridge and took out the last remaining light cruiser. Changed the comms channels to the ones we had on The Wolf’s Den, then modified the IFF tag accordingly. When we arrived at the Unkall station we had just left, they demanded an explanation, so we told them what happened.” “And you weren't reprimanded?”

“Oh, we were. There was even a small tribunal held to determine if we could still fight. That’s when the call came in. Rakthis had been attacked, with only a handful of survivors. I immediately got up and started heading to my ship. The Unkall admiral demanded to know where I was going. After calmly telling him that there was now a full scale war, we had work to do. I went to the hangar and got the light cruiser repaired and ready for combat, but not before renaming it. The Wolf’s Den was never destroyed, it just became another ship.”

“What happened next?” the Unkall boy asked. “Weren’t the forces around Rakthis said to be uncounted?”

“They were, that’s why we didn’t go to Rakthis. We went to Waalon instead. Then to Rek’lon, and finally to Scrurros. Everywhere we went, we pushed back the Gingral horde. My first mate, Sarah Callingham, had family on the outer colonies back in the Vrumoid war. Saw most of them killed in front of her when their shuttle was shot down leaving atmosphere on Vrall VII. Scrurros was a tough nut to crack, and she had more crafty ideas than I did. We landed The Wolf’s Den on the uninhabited side of the planet, then bought a grav truck from one of the farmers. It was hard to weld the armor plates on it at the right angle, but mounting the lasguns and mortar was rather simple. I stood in the back, manning two of the lasguns and the mortar while she and two other soldiers were up front in the cab. We got almost to the planetary capital before we faced any resistance.”

“But the history logs said that Scrurros didn’t fall until the later end of the war.” “That’s right. We couldn’t take the planet as easily as we’d taken the others. When the first mortar hit the shield on the planetary governance center, we knew we were in for a fight. We got the truck away with only a few shots on the armor, but we were pursued by the planetary militia. One of the armored gun trucks fired their heavy las gun and took out the rear grav drive. With the back end of the truck along the ground, our speed tanked to a crawl. I was able to keep the militia back for a while by pinning them down with the lasguns, but then another shot hit us, dead center mass.”

“How bad was it? Were you alright?”

“I made it out with only a few scratches, scrapes, and bruises, but Sarah and the others up front weren't so lucky. The shot penetrated the cab and blew up at the steering linkage. Only Sarah, myself, and the one crewman in the back with me made it out of that. We ducked into a nearby building for cover, only to find that it was a school. Not wanting to put the civilians in danger, we lightly dressed Sarah’s wounds and went on into the forest surrounding the city. We came to a cave at the foot of a mountain, and made camp inside.” “Who was the other crewman that was with you? I notice that you haven’t said his name yet.”

“His name was Richard Grumman. He was the newest addition to The Wolfpack, joining us less than a cycle ago. We hadn’t had much time to get to know each other. The Militia found us in the first week, and he was shot to death on the night they raided the cave. Sarah and I managed to get away, but we were far from being safe. The next night we got a transmission from The Wolf’s Den; They had been found, and were wondering what to do. Sarah and I were at least four days away from the ship, so I made the call and told them to leave while they had the chance, to keep fighting and never forget about us.” “So you willingly stranded yourself and an injured crewmate on a hostile planet just to save your crewmates? The stories about the Terrans must be true.” “You’ll learn that those stories don’t even tell half the story if you stick on a Terran ship for even half a cycle. Anyways, there we were, just me and Sarah on Scrurros. I treated her wounds the best I could, but she wasn’t getting much better. Eventually she died, less than half a cycle into our time on that world. I retired with her body to the farmer who sold us the truck, and paid him to let me bury Sarah on his property. Much like with the freighter, the Gingral would pay. I took stock of what I had. Two lasguns, three fragmentation grenades, an energy grenade, and a plasma charge. Not nearly enough to take on the forces of the planet, but maybe enough to make it possible.”

“So what did you do? The Gingral don’t just let prisoners get away. Especially not in the middle of a war.” “Well, I couldn't just storm the Planetary Governance Center. That would accomplish nothing but my own death. Instead I went for something better. Three grids away from the Governance Center was the Defense Center. The plan was simple. Get inside, break as much stuff as I could, and hope that was enough to take down their defenses. It took me ten days to reach the capital again, and another three to figure out how to get inside. Turns out the Gringal didn’t make their roof as secure as they should have. I opened up the ventilation system and got inside. From there it was a short trip to the bunker exterior.”

“Aren’t Gingral bunkers some of the hardest to break open in the entire galaxy? How did you get inside?” “Simple; I didn’t break in; I snuck in. I kicked out the vent and got inside the bunker, then closed and locked the door behind me and smashed the controls. There were only technicians and a few soldiers inside, who were easy enough to dispatch. The harder part was accessing the communications room. Aside from the door of the bunker itself, the communications room was the most secure place in the facility. The door was half a meter thick, and barred at six points. That would prove to be a great challenge, so I left it for later. I quickly found the controls to the weapons system, and took it down. The planet was now mostly defenseless against ships in orbit and low atmosphere.”

“So you took down the guns, but how did you get in?”

“The door was too hard to get through, so I made my own instead. I went above the room and opened up the three fragmentation grenades. Terrna frag grenades use a pressure sensitive explosive to detonate, so I poured it out above the room, then placed the plasma charge on top of it. I ducked out of the room and waited for the explosion. When that charge went off, it was as if the whole planet shook. When I went in to check on the hole, the charge had only just broken through the floor. It took hours for me to get the hole wide enough for me to wriggle inside, but it was worth it. I contacted the Unkall fleet, and they were there within the week. The planet fell and I was pulled from the bunker before the food and water stores were even dented.”

“So that’s why taking Scrurros was so easy for the fleet. There wasn’t as much resistance as the planet originally had. And you were the one to take it down?”

“That’s right. After the war, I was broken. My knees were all but useless for fighting, and I could barely stand without swaying. The Unkall empire never forgot what my crew and I did. We were paid many times more than what was written in our contract, and they even got me a home right here on Unkall Prime. Now I sit here, enjoying retirement in my old age. Though the Terran lifespan is almost 50 cycles, we’re usually out of our working years after only 30 cycles. Our bodies are too old and weak to do most of the hard tasks that we normally would.”

“So what do you do now? Surely after a life like yours you want to do something just as exciting after you’re done working.”

“I mostly just read now. When you spend your life as a soldier, you miss out on so much. I never settled down and had kids, and my time for that is even drawing to a close. I did take up a few hobbies here and there, but nothing really stuck. I still work part time for the Unkall empire, training their soldiers in virtual reality simulations is about all I can do, but I’ve given the Unkall the strength to protect their planets, and given their generals and admirals the knowledge not to go on any missions they will regret. I’m happy with the contributions I’ve made in my life, and if I had the chance, I’d do it all over again. By the way, I never did catch your name.”

“My name is Ruthal Nerzak, and I’m slotted to be a soldier in the Unkall Defense Force.”

“Well Ruthal, I hope we will meet again someday.”

With that, Ruthal stopped recording and went home, finishing his final report.

A few days later, Ukall prime came under attack. A colonial independence group made numerous strikes around the city, and Ruthal had been caught outside on his way home from class. He tried to run away, but was chased by one of the insurgents down an alleyway, when suddenly two lasgun shots rang out. Ruthal though he was dead, but he slowly opened his four eyes and saw that the terrorist was dead on the ground in front of him. Looking up, he was me with a familiar face

“Thank you Mr. Sturm, I thought I was surely dead.”

“Don’t thank me yet, we’re seven grids away from the nearest shelter, and there’s enemies all around us. You said you wanted to be a soldier, well your training just started early.”

Sturm handed Ruthal the lasgun from the dead insurgent, and after showing him how to fire and teaching him how to make sure it doesn’t overheat, he led the Unkall boy out of the alley and down the street. Two blocks later, Sturm pulled the Unkall boy into an alley.

“Alright son, listen up. There’s about fifty armed and angry people between us and shelter. Our espace routes have been mostly cut off, so I need you to listen to me and listen well. When I tell you to run, you run as fast as you can. We should be able to get past most of them by taking the alleys across the street. I picked up some kit off one of these guys. The flashbang should buy us enough time to cross the street, but I’ll have to think of something after we get to our next crossing.”

Sturm threw the flashbang far into the crowd of terrorists, blinding a dozen of them and allowing them to cross the street. After seeing how many insurgents were at their crossing point, Sturm and Ruthal entered a tall residence building across from a big shootout between the insurgent and Unkall forces.

“Alright, we don’t stand a chance of crossing that. Here’s the plan. We’ll get up high, and then open fire on them. If nothing else, we’ll draw their attention away from the defense forces and allow them to break through.”

“I can’t. They’re people, just like us.” “Look around you kid. There’s men, women, and children all gunned down by these guys. I’m not sure what that makes them in Unkall society, but to us Terrans, they’re no longer people; they’re monsters. As a soldier, our job is to get rid of the monsters, so that everyone can sleep soundly at night knowing they’re safe. Taking a life isn’t something one does lightly, but it’s still something that has to be done. It’s better that we take them out, because if we don’t, who knows how many more people they’ll kill. We don’t do this because we like killing, we do this because we love the people we protect, and we’d give anything to keep them safe.”

“But I don’t want to hurt them.”

“I understand. I’m not sure if the Unkall have a saying like this, but Terrans sure do. You have a big heart. You want to keep people safe, not put them in the ground. But sometimes the best way to keep people safe is to put bad people in the ground. We’re between a rock and a hard place. If we sit here and do nothing, they will continue to hold this street, but if we can take them down, even just one or two of them, we can make them fight on two sides, which is the easiest way to break through an enemy line. I recognize a few of the soldiers I can see from up here. I trained them myself. They’ll realize what’s going on and they’ll do the heavy lifting; we just need to give them a helping hand. So, are you ready?”

The young Unkall nodded, then Sturm and Ruthal braced their lasguns on the windowsill, and opened fire on the street below. As Sturm said, the insurgents shifted their position, attempting to defend against incoming fire from two directions. As the Unkall defense forces broke the lines, a single shot came from the street and hit Sturm in the neck

Bleeding badly, Sturm stumbled back, Ruthall catching him in his arms. As he was losing his grasp on consciousness, Sturm held Ruthalls hand

“Never forget what happened here. Never forget the atrocities you saw with your own eyes, and never be afraid to rise up against the monsters who make things like this happen.”

With that, Sturm closed his eyes. Unkall security forces soon burst into the room, seeing the state of the old Terran, they gave him the best aid they could, and sent him off to the hospital, with Ruthall at his side.

After a lengthy surgery and two pints of blood, Sturm woke up in his hospital room, Ruthall asleep on his lap. Colonel Rengar, a soldier in the Unkall defense forces entered the room.

“So Admiral, I see your retirement is going well.”

“Can the crap Colonel. How many did we lose?”

“Casualties are still being counted, but even one is too many.”

“And what about the boy, Ruthall. Why is he still here?"

"His family were among those killed in the attack. We haven’t told him yet, just that we’re still looking for them.”

“So what will happen to him?”

“We don’t know. He doesn’t have any living family, and in our culture friend’s do not step in for situations like these. He will likely be left to become an adoptee for some family here, but after this, I’m not sure who would adopt him.”

“I will.”

“What? You can’t be serious. The looks he would get, especially here in the capital. I’m not sure if he can take it.”

“He knows my story. He knows that I take care of the ones I call family. He didn’t hesitate to pick up a rifle and follow me through the streets today, and he only barely hesitated to fight beside me. He’ll make a fine soldier, and he’ll make a damn good son. Get me the documents dammit.”

“Very well.”

Ruthall woke up, and was told about what happened. He didn’t take his family dying too well, but was glad that he would not be alone. The next day that school was in session, Admiral Sturm put on his old Terran uniform, and walked his son into class. It was not easy adjusting to caring for a young Unkall child, but it was a change that Sturm was happy to make. He had known what it was like to be alone, and now he could keep Ruthall from knowing that pain.

The End

Let me know if you guys want a follow up series about Sturm and Ruthall on Unkall Prime, and how they live their lives together.

[draconic-ichor]

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 27: Lessons in House Beneviento

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, hints of trauma

Summary: Juniper takes a visit to the Beneviento house for sewing lessons.

Feedback appreciated. 18+

“It’s not too late to cancel,” Heisenberg pointed out, almost hopeful, as he watched Juniper get ready.

“It is.” She insisted, combing her fingers through her hair.

“Nah, I have a phone right over here!” He strode over to it, “I can give her a quick call in no time flat.”

“Heis.” Juniper’s voice was a warning.

He seemed to deflate, shoulders sagging. “There’s no way to talk you out of it?” He pressed.

“Nope.” Juniper stuck firm, tying her curls back into a poofy ponytail.

It didn’t stop him from trying. He badgered her the whole way through the village, ever worried he wouldn’t be with her. Juniper kept firm, knowing she needed to learn this. His constant pestering didn’t cease until they were at the dilapidated wood bridges. Juniper gulped as she started across. The closer they got to the far side the more the mists thickened. By the time her boots made contact with solid ground again the air was heavy with it.

The path was narrow with overgrown hedges, small garden statues covered in ivys here and there.

Something drew Juniper’s attention. She paused as Heisenberg kept walking, turning to squint for better visibility.

A human stood in the mist, almost obscured from view. As Juniper came closer she could make out everything but the face.

It was a woman, about Juniper’s height and sporting the same ebony curls, but the other woman's hair was mostly tied back into a messy bun.

Juniper sucked in a breath, even without a face the woman pulled at a deeply familiar string of her heart.

The woman’s featureless face looked down, her light almond hands bunched into her floral skirt. She almost made a weeping sound.

“My dear….my angel.” The woman cried softly, “I've missed you.”

Juniper felt frozen, a tear running down her cheek. She wanted desperately to remember her face, her smell…anything.

“I’m sorry.” Juniper’s voice wavered.

She suddenly felt a strong hand on her shoulder, she turned enough to see Heisenberg chin almost on her shoulder.

“They aren’t real, buttercup.” He soothed, whispering into her ear, “Only hallucinations.”

Juniper tried to nod, blinking away more moisture from threatening her eyes.

She shook to clear her head a bit, the other woman fading.

Heisenberg saw his own share of ghosts among the mists, though he did his best to ignore them.

A sturdy outline of a man stepped forward down a fork in the path.

“Du bist so groß geworden, mein Kleiner.” The man smiled.

Heisenberg grimaced. He looked away, ignoring the shadow. It wasn’t who it pretended to be, it was just a cruel twist of his heart.

He led Juniper ever forward through the mists. Eventually their path opened onto a clearing. A mound of stones and flowers occupied the center, while a door stood on the opposite side’s rock wall.

“It looks like a grave…” Juniper frowned, seeing the dolls stacked up around the large stone.

“It is.” Heisenberg trudged forward, around the delicate stones and blooming yellow flowers.

Juniper read the stone:

Claudia

Juniper gulped, picking up her pace to rejoin Heisenberg. They went through the small door, following a cave path to an elevator. It looked out of place but was still alive with electricity.

Boarding it, Juniper looked around. This elevator was much more lavish and comfortable then the ones in the factory, more suited for recreational use.

Leaving the elevator and darkness of the caverns, Juniper gasped in awe.

“It’s beautiful!” She exclaimed.

Before them the old estate sat on a hill surrounded with blooming yellow flowers. A large waterfall thundered behind it, it’s mist coating the valley.

“Mhm.” Heisenberg agreed almost dismissively. His sour mood worsened with every step towards the estate, knowing every boot length was that much closer to not turning back.

Juniper stepped up onto the wooden porch, closing the distance to the heavy door. Before she reached for the knocker she glanced back to see Heisenberg did not step onto the porch himself, instead grimacing at the edge like an old dog.

Juniper turned back to the door, lifting the heavy knocker, drumming it a few times. Almost instantly Donna answered, pushing open the door, Angie close behind. They looked happy to see her, Juniper worried she had kept them waiting.

“Hello!” Angie exclaimed, “We’re so happy you came!”

“Hello.”Juniper smiled.

The sound of a throat clearing drew their attention. The three turned to look at Heisenberg.

“Return my girl in one piece.” Heisenberg spoke with his lips a thin line.

“We will.” Angie nodded.

“And no turning her into a fucking doll or some shit.” His voice was a steely warning.

“We know that!” Angie snapped.

He gave a cold look at the doll, “I wasn’t talkin’ to you.” His pale eyes shifted upwards, “Donna I’m serious, take care of her…she means an awful lot to me.”

Donna gave a slow nod before raising a single finger to her chest. She made a little ‘x’ motion over her heart.

Heisenberg nodded back in understanding, mimicking the gesture, “Cross my heart.”

Juniper watched them closely, never seeing him act in such a way with another person before. The small interaction was almost childlike.

Whatever weight that gesture held seemed to be enough for Heisenberg. He tipped his hat to the three before turning back and heading into the mists.

They watched him disappear until Angie started hopping. Her tiny feet made a tapping sound as she happily spoke, “Come on, come on!”

Donna pulled open the thick wooden doors, a warm glow cascading over the porch from within.

Juniper walked behind her as Angie trailed closely. The door seemed to close on its own after they all entered.

“We made cookies!” Angie exclaimed.

“Oh, thank you.” Juniper stammered, being led into the main hall. The estate house was very cozy inside, with ornate woodwork and flowery designs on the rugs.

The air held the smell of spices and herbs, a heavy hanging of dust as well but Juniper was used to far worse.

Where Lady Dimitrescu’s home was a lavish palace, a place of showy status-ship; and Heisenberg’s factory was raw and hazardous, a cesspool of secrecy and honed functionality. Donna’s home was neither.

It was smaller but looked to be well lived in and even held remnants of a loving family. Juniper had known this house once belonged to Donna’s parents but was very unprepared for it to still hold the shadows of normality to it. Certain things looked to be completely untouched since the time of the previous owners, left to sit as a time capsule to happier days.

Juniper was led into a parlor of sorts, a heavy table set with linens and dying flowers was in the middle. A smaller sitting room lay off to the side. The whole place was covered in porcelain dolls. Not surprising, considering Donna was called the Doll-maker, but Juniper thought she saw one more out of the corner of her eye. She stifled a shiver, wondering if Angie wasn’t the only sentient one.

“Come sit.” Angie instructed, “We’ll get the tea.”

She did as she was told, sitting and waiting as the pair went out the far door.

The manor was eerily quiet, Juniper hadn’t realized how used she was to the constant hum of machinery. It almost made her anxiety thicken.

Was this what Heisenberg felt like whenever he was away?

She thought. He’d been living in the sounds much, much longer then she had.

The sound of an elevator piqued her interest, a small sliver of something familiar.

They returned rather quickly, Donna holding a tea tray and Angie pushing the door open for her. Donna set the tray down, busing herself with preparing three cups.

“Donna makes her own tea!” Angie told Juniper, hopping up in a chair.

“Oh?”

“Yea! She’s really good at it.” The doll gushed proudly.

Donna set a porcelain teacup in front of Juniper, offering her a bowl of sugar cubes.

“Oh, thank you.” She smiled, putting two into her tea before stirring it.

She brought it to her lips almost tentatively, the liquid dancing over her tongue. It was nothing like the prepackaged stuff Heisenberg kept around, no this was fragrant with floral notes and hints of herbs. Juniper took a deeper gulp, smiling.

Donna offered her a plate of cookies neatly stacked.

The cookies were a type of butter cookie, small and crisp with an aftertaste of vanilla. Juniper took a big bite.

“We made them from scratch!” Angie announced proudly. She happily picked up a cookie and began to dip it profusely into a cup of tea. She cackled as tea splashed out onto the lace tablecloth.

Donna seemed not to notice, lifting her cup up. She carefully moved the veil eough to take a sip.

After they enjoyed their tea and cookies, Angie telling Juniper so many random things during, they started to head towards Donna workspace.

They took another elevator, the one Juniper had heard earlier, down to the basement. They led her down a hallway lined with white painted doors before opening one.

The room had dirt floors and a heavier curtain of dust. The walls were lined with heaving shelving, filled with all assortment of fabrics and sewing supplies.

Angie excitedly showed Juniper the rarer fabrics, things the Duke had brought from far off places, as Donna cleaned off the table in the center of the room

The three sat down with a little pile of supplies before each.

Donna nodded, picking up a needle and threading it easily.

It took a while for the woman to find her voice, and when she did it was breathy and strained. Juniper thought it must’ve been a long while since it was used in any stretch.

Donna frequently forgot the proper words for items or techniques, having to stop for a moment to think how to explain things. Juniper was ever patient, just thankful the woman was taking the time to teach her at all.

When she did get going, Donna’s fingers were nimble and quick, making even intricate stitching look simple. She could put a sewing machine to shame.

Juniper tried to keep up, showing her results. It was lopsided and messy, earning a concerned little “Oh!” From Donna. It sent Angie into a fit of giggles.

“Take your time.” The woman instructed, “Make every stitch the same size.”

Juniper nodded, trying again.

“Not like that silly!” Angie pointed to the cloth, “Tinier! Make them cute and tiny.”

“Ok.” Juniper smiled at the doll’s enthusiasm.

“Practice stitching is im-important.” Donna nodded, “Mother made me sew for hours on spare fab-ric.”

“How do you make the clothing for the dolls?” Juniper asked, thinking clothes that size could easily be augmented to fit a baby.

“Are you making dolls?” Angie asked excitedly.

“W-well…” she thought, almost sweating, “I may, there’s not much to do around the factory you know.” She lied.

“How do you deal with living in that grimy old factory?” Angie asked.

“I've gotten used to it.” Juniper shrugged, “Its home now.”

“But what about Heisenberg?” The doll pressed, “He’s so mean!”

“Oh he’s not all bad.” Juniper looked at her hands, cheeks gaining a rosy blush, “He’s just a bit rough around the edges.”

“And loud!”

“He is rather loud.” Juniper agreed, giggling.

“But Donna is super good at making cute outfits!” Angie got back on topic.

Donna nodded, standing to look on the shelves behind her. She pulled a handmade book free, brushing dust or before setting it on the table.

“These are my patterns for the common clothes I make for them.” She opened the book.

Juniper looked it over, seeing many small measurements around the sketches. It reminded her of the schematics Heisenberg made of his Soldats.

She asked little questions here or there. Mostly about how Donna found the correct sizes and how to properly measure an object to make clothing for it.

She soaked everything the quieter woman said like a dry sponge. Even pulling out a sketchbook to make notes. Donna and Angie loved to have someone care so much after so many years of solitude.

~

Eventually Juniper’s eyes caught the clock overhead. She gasped, “Is it that late already?”

“Time flies when you’re having fun?” Angie laughed.

They cleaned up her workspace before heading back up into the estate.

Donna sent Juniper home with a better stocked sewing kit, easy patterns to practice with, a bag of scrap fabric, and a container of cookies for Heisenberg.

“Thank you for taking the time today.” Juniper’s voice was genuine.

“Oh it was fun!” Angie gushed, “Come back soon, ok!”

Juniper nodded, taking the bag thankfully from Donna. It was very sweet for her to provide so many spare materials.

Heisenberg was already waiting on the end of the porch, looking irritated as he smoked the last bit of a cigar.

He dropped it, tamping it out with the end of his boot before he stepped towards the three.

“You’re late.” Heisenberg growled when he was close to Juniper.

“And you didn’t send the Lycans?” She smiled playfully.

He gave a huff.

Juniper handed him the bag, he took it questionably. “What’s all this?” He asked.

“Sewing supplies for me and something for you.” Juniper answered.

Heisenberg glanced into the bag, making a little sound of surprise when he saw the parcel of cookies. He quickly looked up to Donna and Angie, almost embarrassed.

“Thank you!” He stammered, cheeks a bit rosey.

Donna nodded happily, waving them goodbye.

Juniper smiled, taking Heisenberg’s free hand and started the walk back to the factory.

“Not used to gifts, are you?” She giggled, seeing how flustered he was at the simple gesture.

He made a grumbling sound, not entertaining her with a real answer.

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