#siren the bengal

[pseudospectre]

Check out this weird snake

[stormysunday9]

One thing I always wished was that my life had a soundtrack. You can feel things so much deeper with music. My life doesn't have a soundtrack, but I thought my writing could. So here's a few songs to pair with the story if you want to feel it a little more. ❤️

This one is full of angst, no 18+ stuff save for some language.

TW: emotional abuse, injured JB9

P.s. I have no idea how to format on this app so if I'm doing it all wrong please feel free to make fun of me and/or teach me.

One More Chance

I was at the game when Joe was brutally sacked and the defender fell on top of him, crushing his wrist. I ran from the stands to meet him at the medical facility next to the Bengals locker room. Joe seemed too relaxed about it all when told me he "heard a pop." He was clearly still very much in shock. An x-ray and an ultrasound confirmed he had snapped a ligament in his wrist, and as a result, his grip strength was almost nothing. The medical trainer wrapped his wrist and he went back out to the sidelines. I went out to the players parking lot and waited for the game to end. I sat in Joe's car and began to panic. When the shock wore off, this was going to get ugly. He was still riding adrenaline, watching his boys finish the game. I was going to have to deal with the natural disaster that was injured Joe when we got home and he came down from it all.

An hour later, he gently knocked on the passenger window, scaring me out of my mental nightmare. 

"You're gonna have to drive, babe."

Fair enough, I realized. Stick shift wasn't very easy with one hand. I got out of the car and walked around the to driver side. Joe plopped into the passenger side.

"What did they say?" I asked cautiously, still not able to figure out his mood.

"Surgery in a week," he began, "then two weeks rest before I can start physio. Full recovery by six months. Fucking sucks!" He sort of chuckled. 

I felt like I was waiting for the air raid siren to sound. I knew the storm was nearby, but couldn't figure out which direction it was going to come from. We made it home without issue and Joe spent the rest of the evening fielding phone calls and media requests. 

Maybe it'll be ok, I allowed myself to feel a tiny bit hopeful. He's older now, he's seen more success, become more mature since his last injury. And after all, getting hurt is just part of football, right?

Wrong. Not for Joe Burrow, who's entire self worth was rooted in his success as a football player. The storm hit the next day. He was miserable, aggressive, and angry at the world. He spent the week getting drunk and sleeping. All his health obsessions went out the window. His friends would drop him off late at night when he'd been cut off at whatever bar they were at, and I'd have to get him to bed safely while he either made me feel completely useless or tried to drunkenly seduce me, depending on his mood.

I laid low for the days leading up to his surgery and spent most of my time cleaning up after him and his week long bender. I hoped for a light at the end of the tunnel, once he was "fixed" and on the road to recovery.

-----------------

I picked Joe up from the hospital when he had been discharged after his surgery. I pulled his Porsche around to the entrance and watched him lumber out the door, his right arm in a sling that was supporting his heavily wrapped wrist. His face was full of storm clouds.

I got out to grab his bag from him and threw it into the very limited cargo space. He slumped into the passenger seat, completely filling the previously empty seat beside me. 

"You look good," I offered, "how are you feeling?" 

"Fine." He answered without looking at me. I put the car in gear and drove. He stared straight ahead the whole drive home. It seemed safer in the moment to just let him be. He has obviously been thrust back into reality, no longer self medicating with alcoholic. Time to face reality. I was sure he was assessing what the next six months were going to look like, and I was pretty certain he wasn't happy with what he was seeing. 

When we arrived home, he was combative. Wouldn't let me do anything for him, didn't want to talk. It was just like his knee injury all over again, and we'd barely survived that. I didn't know if I could do this again. It hurt so much seeing him like this, but i wanted to support him. Instead he made me feel like I was somehow responsible. Like everyone was out to get him. 

His voice broke through my thoughts, right as I was feeling my throat get tight trying to fight off tears. "I'm going to shower." He turned on his heel, still refusing to make eye contact.

"Joe -", he stopped, his back still to me, "I might go spend the next couple nights at my mom's. If you don't want me here...." I left space after the statement for him to counter. To tell me he needed me here, he wanted me. Instead, facing his back, I saw him give a quick nod of his head, and continue up the stairs. I wish I could have seen the look on his face as he broke my heart, but he wouldn't even give me that.

I followed upstairs shortly after and  began throwing a few items in an overnight bag. Why won't he fight for me? For us? In the midst of feeling sorry for myself, I heard a loud crash from the bathroom. I ran down the hall, worried he had slipped. I opened the bathroom door to see him standing in our large walk in shower with a water proof sleeve over his right arm, water spraying down his broad back, and shampoo and body wash bottles scattered at his feet that he had evidently just cleared off the shelves in a fit of rage. 

"Joe..."

"I can't even wash my own fucking hair!", he yelled, his voice thick with emotion.

Deep breath. "May I come in?" I asked, treading as lightly as possible.

He responded by pushing the shower door open, and kicking the bottles he'd just thrown out of my way.

I pulled my shirt over my head and shimmied my track pants and panties to the floor and stepped into the steamy shower.

"Sit down," I commanded.

He obeyed, sitting cross legged on the shower floor, his head hung down in front of him.

I pulled the shower head from it's cradle, and kneeled down behind him. I put a finger under his chin, asking him to tip his head back. He did as instructed. I let the gentle stream run off his head, running my hands through his thick, wavy hair as I went. I picked up one of the strewn shampoo bottles and squeezed some into my hand. I began to massage it into his scalp gently, being careful to wipe it back from his hairline so it didn't get in his eyes.

I suddenly noticed his whole body was heaving in front of me. He was silently sobbing. 

"Oh my love....",  I wrapped my arms around his neck, he reached up with his left arm to hold onto mine. 

"Please don't leave," he barely whispered, his voice breaking.

I sat back on my feet. "I don't want to, Joe. I want to be here, I want to help you, I want to be with you. But it doesn't feel like you want me here. I want to give you your space. If that's what you want."

He made a clumsy effort to spin around to face me. "It's not. I don't want to go through this without you." 

His eyes were so pained, his whole body seemed fatigued. I began to gently rinse the shampoo from his hair while he stared into my eyes. "I'm so sorry...Stay," he pleaded.

I took a minute to focus on the hot water cascading down my back. I stood up, and reached out my hand to help him up. Now standing, he towered over me, but his presence didn't feel like it took up the same amount of space as it once did. His whole aura felt smaller, after hit after hit to his body, his ego and his pride. 

"Ok," I finally agreed, grasping his left hand in both of my hands, "but you have to let me in."

He offered a curt nod of his head. I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel from the warmer. Joe stepped out after me, and I reached up to help him dry his hair, the stretch causing my naked breasts to press again his chiselled chest. He wrapped his left arm around my waist and bent down to make his height more accessible. With his mouth now next to my ear I felt his warm breath against my cheek as he whispered, "you're so beautiful."

I offered him a soft smile. I knew how difficult it would be for him right now to offer any sort of kindness or compliment, knowing his head was just churning with dark thoughts.

He took a step back and actually looked at me, for what felt like the first time. His cold blue eyes felt like they were burning a hole through my body. "I just want to feel worthy of you," he confessed. 'i can't even take care of myself, how can I take care of you?"

"You don't always have to take care of everyone," I told him, "right now, please just let me take care of you." I continued to help pat him dry. Then removed the waterproof sleeve from his right arm

"How is it feeling?", I asked.

"Hurts," he replied. 

"Why don't you go lay down. Rest is the best medicine right now. I'll grab you your pain meds." I offered.

"I don't want them, I shouldn't need them! Professional athletes using narcotic pain control never ends well." He protested.

I clenched my jaw, trying to stay calm. "Fine, I'll grab you a couple Tylenol."

I ran downstairs to grab the Tylenol from the kitchen while Joe sulked towards the bedroom. I knew I needed to stay patient, but my patience was already so thin. I was so mentally exhausted. Every time I thought I'd broken down a wall he'd built, I just found another one behind it. 

When I returned to the bedroom, he was already in bed and I could tell by his hooded eyes that sleep was creeping over him. I handed him the pills, and some water, and bent to kiss him on his cheek.

"Lay with me a for a bit...? He slurred trough his fatigue.

"Ok," I quietly agreed.

I climbed in bed next to him on his side and curled my body against his broad back. I draped my arm over him and he reached up with his left hand to link his pinky finger with mine. "I love you," he breathed out.

"I know..." I whispered.

His breathing slowed and became deeper. I could tell he was asleep. Looking at this perfect man, momentarily at peace, I could see the man I fell in love with two years ago. I couldn't even make sense that this man, and the volatile person who was yelling and throwing things minutes ago were one in the same. The constant mood swings were giving me whiplash. 

I knew I was at a breaking point. I couldn't do it much longer. I wanted nothing more than to be there for him, to love him, even at his worst. But I also knew that i couldn't be his punching bag any longer. It was up to him from here on out. He needed to decide what this was going to look like, whether he could get through this without burning down everything around him. At this point, I knew I'd done everything I could. 

I slowly wiggled my hand out of his and quietly slipped out of the bed. I went downstairs to lay on the couch, where my unexpected wave of tears wouldn't wake him.

----------

When Joe came home after his first day of physio, after a week of me walking on eggshells and the two of us barely speaking, I decided to try one more time.

He looked like he was already on his way to sequester himself back in his office with his music and computer when I tried to interject.

"Hang out with me, babe. We can watch a movie, or play Scrabble. I know how hard this has been for you, so let's just do something easy."

His face immediately filled with fury. "You have no fucking idea how hard this is for me!", he spit out, "you have no fucking clue what it's like to have the only thing you care about get ripped away from you!"

And there it was. It would have hurt less if he had just slapped me across the face. His words burned into my heart. Tears sprang into my eyes.

"Actually, Joe, I do know exactly what that feels like. Because the thing I care about most in this world - YOU - got ripped away from me the moment your wrist snapped, and got replaced by a monster who's made it his life's mission to make me feel like absolute trash, despite sacrificing every bit of everything I have to be there for you and get you through this!!!!" My voice was angry, but my tears betrayed me. My heart was broken, and my decision was made. I couldn't be here anymore. And I told him so.

"I can't keep doing this. I love you so much, but it's not enough. I need some time, to just be me. And maybe you can figure out who you are, who Joe Burrow is now, and whether that person has any room in his life for me anymore."

I grabbed my keys and my purse. "I'll come back tomorrow while you're at physio to get my stuff."

I saw his face drop at the realization that I was really leaving. I couldn't let it effect me, my resolve was set. I walked out the door, got in my truck, and drove away. I didn't make it halfway to my parents house before I had to pull over because I couldn't see the road through my hysterical sobs. 

------------------

The first couple weeks with my parents were rejuvenating. I finally felt like I could breathe. I missed Joe terribly, but what was happening back home was not healthy for either us. I hadn't told my parents much, just that Joe needed to focus on healing and needed some space to do so. I didn't give them all the nitty gritty details because I didn't want them to hate him. I dove headfirst back into work, spent time with friends, and a lot of time reflecting on what I needed to be happy going forward. 

Three weeks after our last explosive break down, Joe texted me:

Hey you.

Hi you. How are you doing?

Getting better every day. I wanted you to know that I started therapy.

I know! How's the grip strength?

Oh, good. But I didn't mean physio. Therapy for my mind. It's been helping a lot. Helping me understand there has to be a me that exists outside of football. And that one day football will be done for me, so I need to put energy into the things I still want to have around me when that day comes.

And I know the only thing I want is you. 

Wow, that was easily the longest text joe had ever sent me. By his standards, that was a novel. And therapy was so huge for him. He'd never taken that idea seriously before. I took a minute to get my words right before I responded.

I think that's really amazing, Joe. I'm proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself.

I know saying it and putting it into action are two very different things, which is why I would like the chance to show you that I can be better. I didn't know my mental health needed healing as much as my physical health....

There was a long pause between messages, I was trying to take it all in and really didn't know how to respond, my head was spinning. And then I saw him begin to type again.

Can I see you?

I breathed out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. Part of me wanted to respond yes with a hundred exclamation marks because I missed him so much. And part of me was still so guarded, so protective of my own mental state, that the thought of seeing him terrified me. I loved him so much, and really seemed to have been making an effort in our time apart....

...one more chance, I promised myself.

Ok, I texted back, you can come here. My parents are out of town so you won't have to worry about an interrogation. Bring coffee.

Be there in 20 🫡

When I opened the door, Joe looked different. He seemed relaxed, but cautious. The tension that had permanently taken up residence in his jawline had disappeared. He held the tray of drinks in his good hand, his injured hand still in a brace but no longer in a sling.

"Hi", he smiled with that damn smile that could melt icebergs, or in this case, my cold hardened heart.

I ushered him in with a sweeping motion of my arm. He sat down on my parents couch and set the drinks on the coffee table in front of it. 

"How are you?", he asked as genuinely as he ever had.

"Hanging in there," I replied.

He gave me a pained look and decided to just get right to the point.

"I'm so sorry, babe. There is no excuse for the way I treated you. And I know any apology is insufficient. The only thing I can do is be better for you. Be the person you deserve. And I don't know if I can ever be that person, because you deserve the world, and more. But I want to try. I want to be everything you need, I want to be the person who makes your life better, happier. I never want to hurt you again. I know now that football is right now, but you are forever. And I want you forever. So I want to put just as much effort - more even - into you, into us, as I do into my career. I want to be good at football, but I want to be great at loving you."

I could feel the tears threatening to spill out of eyes. I tried to control my breathing. 

Joe reached out and gently grabbed my hand, "hey," he offered, trying to get me to meet his eyes, "I'm just so damn sorry. I was a complete jackass, and you deserve so much better."

I finally met his eyes and the tears I was trying so hard to hold back slid down my cheeks. "God dammit, Burrow," I half laughed, half cried.

He cocked his head to the side, pleading and hopeful.

There was nothing I wanted more than to be us again. But the us we started out as, the us before the injuries and the losses. I knew that Joe was still in there, and I could see how desperately he was trying to bring him to the forefront and to be him again, and only him. 

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I needed to get my voice under control before I spoke again. I reached over to take a drink of my coffee. I finally decided to tell him the same words I had told myself earlier. 

"One more chance, Joe."

I watched the corners of his lips start to turn up, before I continued.

"I swear to you though, I won't go through that again. If you get hurt again, and I think we can both admit that's a pretty good possibility, we will get through it together or not at all. And if you treat me like shit again, you won't see me again. I'm not kidding, Joe. You broke my heart."

He imperceptibly winced at the sting of my words, and wiped the grin off his face immediately. 

"I broke my own heart too, the minute I let you walk away," he confided. "I promise to spend every minute proving to you that it will never happen again". 

He scooted closer to me, and wrapped an arm around me, my head fell into his chest, where I had always fit so perfectly. He took this as an invitation to wrap the other arm around me and squeeze me like he was never going to let me go.

We stayed like that for a minute while I buried myself in his warmth, his smell, his strength. When I finally came up for air I looked into his eyes, they looked so vulnerable.

"You better not mess this up, Burrow." I tried to sound stern.

He smiled. "I wouldn't dare." He offered me the pinky finger of his left hand, and after a moment's hesitation, I linked it with mine. Then he pulled me in and kissed me, and just like that, I was ready to risk it all, all over again. 

[marsdenlee]

Location: Greywood Hospital - Maya's Room With: @mayarparker

The siren kicked open the door to Maya's room and proceeded to roll through it in a rushing flurry, he quite literally rolled through for he was seated within one of the hospital provided wheelchairs and unceremoniously asked as he rolled through, "Where's da remote?" His voice was sandpaper, still recovering from the night before in the woods where he'd used his siren voice on so many.

Poor fluorescent lighting of the hospital never did any favors for his already pale features so the starkness of it seemed to accentuate the sharpness of his nose, the line of his cheeks, and the hollowness around his eyes that made the dark circles around them appear even darker. He had on his head a backwards cap and wore a Cincinnati Bengals jersey over a black long sleeved shirt, the chain lock necklace he always wore engraved with the single letter 'R' visible over the neckline. He rolled himself to Maya's bedside and parked himself so he could see the television hanging in the corner, "Game's about to start," he croaked.

[undercoverbisexualfrog]

Phantasia AU - Main Characters

Masterpost

Karai Full Name: Chouriki Karai Age: 14 Gender, Sexuality, Pronouns: Cis Female, Lesbian but doesn’t know it, she/her Species: Human Occupation: Student Appearance: Picture Karai from the show but her hair is all black and is just above the shoulder in length. Also less makeup and piercings bc TC won't let her have any. Backstory: The daughter of Foot Clan leader Oroku Saki, except she doesn't know that. TC saved her when she was a baby and has since been living as their daughter. She remains oblivious to her true past as Saki's daughter. And spends her days exploring Terra Mirandi. Extra Facts: - The adopted daughter of TC - Has a pet snake named Miwa - She saw a witch girl (shinigami) in the village she lives in once and now has a massive crush, they’re just friends for now

TC Full Name: Chouriki ‘TC’ Takeshi Age: Uhhhhh 300+ they're immortal Gender, Sexuality, Pronouns: Non-Binary, Asexual, they/them Species: Anthropomorphic Bengal Tiger Occupation: Ex-Hitman Appearance: Humanoid tiger, light blue stripes on left arm and red stripes on the right, metal-tipped claws, missing right eye, missing tail Backstory: TC and Alopex, their sister, lost their parents when they were still kids. For about a century and a half, they depended entirely on each other. Until Alopex came to TC covered in her own blood and attacked them, claiming that TC was responsible for her wounds. A fight near the Foot Clan barrier lead to TC adopting Karai as their daughter. They haven't spoken to Alopex since. Extra Facts: - EXCLUSIVELY goes by TC - In Chouriki (長力), 長 means long, leader or chief while 力 means power, strength, or force - Sees the whole squad as their kids

Chris Full Name: Lord Christopher Azyrath Age: 28 Gender, Sexuality, Pronouns: Cis Male, Bisexual, he/him Species: Hellhound Occupation: Member of the House of Azyrath Appearance: Anthropomorphic wolf, black fur, light grey feathered wings with dark orange tips, dark orange eyes, flames on tips of ears and wings Backstory: Born into the Azyrath family, Chris had lived a life of luxury and worship. The House of Azyrath was one of the more powerful of the five houses, and so just for having the last name, Chris was feared and respected by all. Or perhaps 'most' was more fitting. He had met a siraelia (siren-cecaelia hybrid) one day who seemingly had zero respect. For this alone, the siraelia was thrown in prison (bc chris just doesn’t want his ego hurt). But the hellhound seemed to grow fond with the prisoner, whose name he learnt was Xever, and eventually released him. Since then they had secretly started dating. Chris would bring nothing but shame to the Azyrath name if anyone found out he was dating a thief like Xever. Extra Facts: - Has fire powers, just like all other hellhounds - If he really tried, he could burn someone with a glare - He knows that his family is planning for an arranged marriage between him and a woman from the House of Polilla. He doesn’t know what do about since he’s already with Xever.

Xever Full Name: Xever Ladrão-dos-Mares Age: 24 Gender, Sexuality, Pronouns: Transgender Male, Bisexual, he/they Species: Siraelia Occupation: Thief, Fashion Designer Appearance: Dark skin, gold eyes, black hair, painted nails, pink fins for ears, gills on neck, fangs/sharp teeth (cecaelian), black tentacles (cecaelian), grey skin (cecaelian) Backstory: Xever lived in the sea up until he turned 16, where peer pressure from his 'lover' Vitor drove him to steal from the House of Thalassa. For this, he was banished from the seas. He started living in the territory of the House of Azyrath, where he met Chris. Xever was put in prison for ‘disrespecting’ the Prince. There, they ended up falling in love. Xever has since been freed from prison and is dating Chris in secret. One day he hopes to return to the seas. Extra Facts: - Ladrão dos mares translate to ‘thief from the seas’ - Can shift between humanoid form and full cecaelian form - LOVES fashion and style, would absolutely tell people off if he doesn’t like the clothes

Baxter Full Name: Stok-05 or 'Baxter' Age: N/A Gender, Sexuality, Pronouns: N/A, Pansexual, any pronouns (but mostly uses he/him) Species: Digital Bug Occupation: Scientist Appearance: Normal 2012 mutant Baxter but he’s got lime green lines and shapes on his skin. And his wings are completely green with lighter green markings. Backstory: Stok-05, or Baxter as he calls himself, is a digital bug that fled from the Digital Gates into the neighbouring realm of Terra Mirandi. He has no intention of returning to his former home and hasn’t told any of his current friends that he’s an escapee and doesn’t ever intend to. Extra Facts: - In Stok-05, Stok is part of Stockman and 05 is the episode number that Baxter debuted in in the 2012 series - His antenna are shaped like TV antenna - His eyes are made up of mini screens

Anton Full Name: Anton 'Bebop' Zeck Age: 29 Gender, Sexuality, Pronouns: Transmasc, Gay, he/him Species: Anthropomorphic Warthog-Cupid Hybrid Occupation: Thief, Engineer, Bartender Appearance: Brown warthog, purple mohawk and fur on tail tip, black and purple eyes, damaged left tusk, black and purple sunglasses, white and pink wings, heart-shaped pupils, pink and gold halo Backstory: Raised and trained to be a matchmaker like all other cupid, but why do that when you can party? He only uses his cupid matchmaking abilities for fun rather than true love. Mainly because most cupids deem true love as between a man and a woman. He works an engineer on the side, mainly making equipment he can use to steal things with. One day he bought parts from arms dealer Ivan Steranko. A few more happened, and they started dating. Extra Facts: - Instead of the usual love potion arrows used by cupids, he uses heart-seeking hip and finger lasers - His wings are more for show than actual flight, but he can fly if he wants. Just not that far - His warthog side is from a peasant that had a one night stand with a cupid

Ivan Full Name: Ivan 'Rocksteady' Steranko Age: 36 Gender, Sexuality, Pronouns: Cis Male, Pansexual, he/him Species: Cyclopean Crystalline Rhinoceros Occupation: Thief, Arms Dealer Appearance: Cyclops eye, horn is made of crystal, grey skin, that suit that human Ivan wears in 2012, long tail tipped with crystal Backstory: Ivan was raised entirely by his mother. He and his stepbrother, Boltak, were extremely close and entered the arms dealing business together. Dealing weapons to Anton Zeck is how they met, and after a few more deals they started dating. Extra Facts: - His mother is from the Crystal Colony (10 dimensions post) but his father was from Terra Mirandi, so he has both crystalline and organic features - Doesn’t require as much food or drink as an organic, so barely ever eats anything - Visits Boltak every once in a while to keep their relationship strong

Ask Me Stuff!

[overwatch-archive]

Bastet

A Short Story: Michael Chu Illustrations: Arnold Tsang Additional Artwork: Bengal Design and Layout: Benjamin Scanlon

After days of lying in wait, Ana's target had appeared in one of Cairo's opulent, ancient palaces. Abdul Hakim was a king in his own right, one who was using his power and influence to squeeze the life from the city, making himself and his followers rich in the process. But before she had her chance to capture him, the first ghost appeared: Jack Morrison. Though he was masked and had assumed the identity of a vigilante—Soldier: 76—she recognized him immediately.

The world believed that Morrison was dead, killed in the destruction of the Overwatch base in Switzerland, but Ana had her doubts. Though Jack had escaped death, a specter followed behind him… the Reaper. A killer clad all in black, his face hidden behind a bone white mask.

Reaper had confronted Jack, and Ana had leapt to his aid. She had subdued Reaper, wrestling him to the ground. But when she had stripped off the ghoulish mask and seen the ruin of a face beneath, she recognized Gabriel Reyes, a friend and comrade she’d known just as long as Jack. Gabriel proved to be the real phantom as he’d faded into thin air, disappearing like a whisper.

She was left with the revelation that Gabriel and Jack, two men like brothers to her, were not dead.

In fairness, they thought I was, too.

She took a deep breath and surveyed the scene. Bullet marks patterned the walls, tiles on the floor were cracked, and the bodies of the manor’s security guards—muscle for Hakim’s illegal enterprise—were splayed about like children's toys. At the heart of the courtyard, Jack stood impassively.

"I got them all," Jack said as he rifled through one of the fallen mercenary's belongings.

A guard on the ground between them groaned, and in a flash, Ana drew her sidearm and fired a sleep dart into his neck.

"You missed one," Ana said.

Jack gave one of his good guy shrugs. "It’s nice to see you, too, Ana."

Ana engaged the targeting visor from underneath her cowl. The heads-up display failed to activate. She flipped it back up, annoyed. "Any idea where he went?"

Jack activated his visor and scanned the area. "Not a trace."

Something to worry about later.

"That doesn’t look good," Ana said. Jack had been shot right beneath the giant numerals "76" on his jacket. As she took a closer look, she could see that the jacket and his flesh had been ripped apart by a shotgun blast. From that range, it should have killed him, but Jack had certain advantages. His wounds could heal themselves—a legacy of his past as a test subject and an enhanced soldier in the American armed forces. She could already see the pink of new skin forming at the edges, but not completely. Where it looked the worst, his flesh had turned necrotic and black.

"I'll be fine," Jack grunted. "It just takes us some time."

Us, Ana thought. Jack was adapting quickly to the knowledge that his former best friend was still alive.

Or did he already know?

The faintest sound of approaching sirens interrupted her. "We should get going. Sounds like someone’s noticed."

Jack nodded. "Lead the way."

An hour later, Ana and Jack crouched in the shadows, watching as hover taxis zoomed by and a pair of civilians riding robotic camels made their way down the street. Overhead, skiffs and surveillance drones crisscrossed the sky, the former carrying the well-to-do of the city to their afternoon appointments, the latter mobilized by the shootout in Hakim's palace.

Ana navigated the narrow alleys, finding the routes through the labyrinthine tangle of streets and pathways, keeping an eye out for the patrols that circled like hawks. For once in her life, she was grateful for the city’s patchwork infrastructure, still recovering a decade after Overwatch's intervention. The state of Ana's home country was one of the reasons she had been drawn back to it. She felt responsible for Overwatch's legacy here, whether it had been her choice or not.

In the shade of one of the massive, derelict cooling towers, the heat from the oppressive afternoon sun was a little more tolerable. It didn't bother Ana, but Jack seemed to be laboring. His genetic enhancements should have helped him acclimatize to different conditions, the same way they should have stopped the blood that was seeping through the shirt he'd tied across his midsection as a bandage.

"You need to take better care of yourself," Ana chided him.

"You sound like Angela," Jack grunted.

Ana waited for a police car to speed by, lights flashing, and then she signaled him forward.

"Think they’re looking for us?" Jack wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Most likely," Ana said, squinting at the car's retreating form. "But there's a lot of crime here. The police are busy."

Another part of our legacy.

Jack had fallen behind a few paces, leaning against one of the walls. "Reminds me of Prague."

"I’m not carrying you this time," Ana said. "Come on, Jack. Keep up." She dashed out of the shadows and across the street, feeling the full blast of sun above and the heat baked into the stones beneath her.

Back in the shadows, she continued. "Prague was your fault. Why you ever thought Reinhardt could be stealthy is beyond me."

Ana waited for Jack to defend himself. When he didn’t reply, she turned around. He had collapsed on the paving stones, out in the open.

Not now, Ana thought as she ran back to him. She tried to pull him up. "Wake up, Jack." But he gave no response. Ana slung Jack’s arm over her shoulder and lifted him, carrying him down the alley.

Jack drifted awake. That wasn't normal. Even before the army, he'd always been a light sleeper, starting awake at the slightest disturbance. His eyes adjusted rapidly to the dim light of the room as he sat up. He was on an old military surplus cot with a threadbare blanket. His side ached like hell.

"Finally," Ana walked over, silent as a stalking cat. "Tea?"

"I'll take whiskey if you have it."

Ana rolled her eyes. "Yes, Jack, I happen to keep a bottle around just in case you show up."

"Tea's fine," Jack said in a smaller voice.

Ana stretched her shoulders. "You know, I had to carry you all the way here."

"I've been shot plenty of times. It's never felt like this." Jack grimaced as he shifted, twisting around to get a better look at the wound. Three large gashes crisscrossed his back and sides, but they'd been stitched together with dark thread.

"There's something very wrong with that wound. We should probably take you to a doctor." Ana moved to a low table with an induction burner and placed an ornate gold kettle on one of its two heating pads.

"I don't think a doctor's going to know how to deal with this." Jack looked grim.

"Dr. Ziegler's not too far away," Ana suggested. "But I’m not carrying you."

"No doctors," Jack said. "And especially not Angela." How would we even begin to explain this to her? I doubt she'd want to see us now. Two lost ghosts.

"I tried stitching you up myself," Ana said apologetically. "I never was much good with field dressing. Didn't need it very often."

He ran his finger over the jagged stitches. “Looks like a butcher went at it.”

"Well, you can take care of yourself from now on, if you like."

"It's a little hard to reach," Jack said sheepishly.

"Then don't complain.” Ana paused. "And shouldn't that be healing itself?"

Jack nodded. "It should be. Maybe the shells were laced with a biological agent?"

"You're sure you don't want to see Dr. Ziegler?"

"We'd have to explain to her that we're not dead," Jack said.

"She's the miracle worker. She's probably used to it by now," Ana laughed.

"No Angela," Jack said, and that was that.

He looked around at Ana's home, as it were. It was a mix of tactical equipment, military surplus, surveillance devices, and some light touches of domesticity. The space was more archaeological site than apartment, ancient stone chambers with worn stone columns, and the walls had been carved with hieroglyphics, though some looked like the work of more modern vandals. On a low table, Ana had set up a little display of ancient objects that had been carefully preserved: a jar with a ram's head lid made of pale, milky stone, a black and gold mask bearing the visage of a fierce cat goddess, a chipped vase of brown-red clay, and a small, brilliant green figurine of a falcon.

Jack took a closer look at the antiquities. "This place reminds me of a museum my mother took me to in New York when I was a kid." It had been one of his favorite parts of the trip, running around the transplanted ruins of an ancient Egyptian temple. He smiled at the memory.

Ana offered him a blue mug with a red plaid pattern. "It's a necropolis—a city of the dead."

"Appropriate," Jack chuckled. He motioned towards the small display. "What are these?"

"I found them when I moved in. I couldn't very well throw them away. These relics have survived thousands of years. Empires rose and fell, and they're still here. I figured I should take care of them before I sent them to Dr. Faisal."

Jack blew gently on his tea to cool it. "You've been here the whole time?"

"Ever since I left the hospital in Poland." Ana watched as Jack sipped his tea.

He made a face at the bitterness. "Any sugar?"

Ana ignored him. "When I woke up, I didn't remember who I was. I had no name to give them, so they called me, 'Janina Kowalski,' your Jane Doe. For months, I sat in that hospital room in pain and confusion. Dr. Lee told me I was lucky. Well, as lucky as you can be after having glass and shrapnel embedded in your skull." Ana felt the phantom pain of her eye even as she recounted the experience.

"We tried to find you," Jack said somberly. "I used every resource at my disposal. Gabe even put McCree on it personally. Not a trace. Everyone else tried to convince me you were gone and that I was being irrational. But deep down I knew that you couldn't be dead."

And I was right, Jack thought.

"Dr. Lee kept me out of the system. I convinced her some dangerous people were after me."

"I'm dangerous?" he asked, playing innocent.

"You're a kitten, Jack," Ana laughed. "Eventually, I was able to piece together what happened, but I don't know how much of it is real and how much I've filled in the blanks myself. I remembered the mission. We were pinned down by the enemy sniper, and I was trying to flush them out. I remembered lining up the shot. But it was almost like there was a reason why I didn't want to remember what happened next."

Jack looked down into his teacup.

"It was because I recognized that sniper," Ana said, studying him carefully. "You already know this."

"Amélie?" Jack said. "Yes." He had learned that and more over the years, but he left it unspoken.

"Poor Gérard," Ana sighed.

The pair sat in silence for a while as the steam drifted lazily from their cups and dissipated into the dusty haze of the ancient room.

"Why are you here, Jack?" Ana asked at last.

"I never forgave myself for leaving you behind. I heard about a bounty hunter in Cairo, and I hoped…" Jack set the mug down.

"You never were good at letting go," Ana chided him. "Too stubborn for your own good."

"Gabriel is out there. Talon is getting more powerful. They need to be stopped, and everything that we've suffered—everything that you've suffered—needs to be made good on. I’m going to take them apart, piece by piece." Jack's impassioned words echoed off the stone walls, and he had clenched his fists. He slowly released them. "But I can't do it alone. I need your help."

Ana crossed her arms. "You can barely stand. You fainted in the street. The only thing you need to do is recover."

"Don't let this go. Don't be like the others. They dismantled everything we spent our lives building, and then they made us into villains."

"We're not all like you, Jack," Ana said. "Some of us can move forward."

"This is moving forward," Jack growled.

"You're excited," Ana said. "You're not thinking straight. Get some more rest. We can talk after."

"After?" Jack's eyes flashed to his mug and then looked back at Ana. "Did you—?"

He collapsed on the cot.

Ana waited until Jack was deeply asleep before she lifted his legs onto the bed, tucked a pillow beneath his head, and pulled the scratchy blanket over him. He had scars she didn't recognize, and his hair had thinned and faded to a silvery white. While he slept, Soldier: 76 slipped away, and she could feel the presence of the Jack she remembered.

She picked up the empty mug and left him to rest.

Later, Ana returned to the darkened complex, her supplies in a canvas sack she carried over her shoulder. With the lights off, the place felt more like a tomb than ever. She walked through the entry corridor and into the main chamber to find, of all things, Jack, shirtless, doing one-handed pushups through gritted teeth. He'd discarded his bandages in a small pile on his cot. Ana could see the angry red and black of the wounded flesh, bound together by her inexpert stitching.

"You're going to tear those stitches out," Ana remarked.

"I was feeling a little restless," Jack explained.

"You did sleep for two days," Ana said. Hungry?

"I'd kill for a burger."

Ana gave him a look of disbelief.

"But I'm not picky," Jack flashed her that smile he used to try to get himself out of trouble. He really was like a child sometimes.

Ana pulled paper containers of food out of her sack and placed them on the low table in front of him. The rich smells drifted through the air. There was falafel and beans, and pockets of freshly baked bread stuffed with steaming minced lamb meat and onions. "It's not my cooking, at least."

"Thank god for small miracles," Jack chuckled.

In spite of herself, Ana laughed as well.

Jack attacked the food like someone accustomed to having to wolf down meals quickly. Ana helped herself to a little, but mostly they ate in silence. When they'd finished, Jack leaned back on the crate he was sitting on and settled back into his questioning.

"Why didn't you tell me you were alive?" Jack asked.

"I don't know if you'll understand," Ana said. "Gabriel would, but you're different in some ways."

Jack's expression was unreadable. "And Fareeha? You let her think you were dead."

"That was the hardest part." Ana sighed. She stood up and walked over to her desk, where there was a small framed photo Ana with her young daughter on her back. Their arms were both spread wide as though they were flying. "Fareeha would have expected Captain Amari to return, but she was gone. The moment I hesitated, I changed."

"You can't blame yourself," Jack said softly. "How could you have known?"

"Don't patronize me, Jack," Ana snapped. "Of course, it was my fault. It doesn't have to haunt me for the rest of my life, but I can accept the blame."

"It wouldn't have made a difference to us. We would have wanted you back. It turns out we couldn't do it without you," Jack said, touching her shoulder gently. "Overwatch needed you. And now I need you."

Ana read the desperation on Jack's face. "Getting revenge for what happened won't accomplish anything other than getting you killed."

"Maybe, but I still have to fight. Everyone else gave up, but not me."

He blames me, too. Ana realized. "Stubborn."

"You couldn't give up the fight either," Jack said. "Why else were you at Hakim's palace?"

"I tried to live quietly, you know. I would be near my daughter and be at peace. But the longer I lived here, the harder it was for me to escape the fact that we are responsible for what happened to this city. We shut down the Anubis project, and Egypt has never recovered." Ana stood up, turning her back to Jack. "People's lives are hard. They're being taken advantage of by parasites like Hakim. How could I let it go on when I knew there was something I could do?"

"You're fighting for justice, just like me," Jack said.

Ana's eyes narrowed. "Revenge isn't justice."

Jack threw his hands up. "We're after the same thing. Why do you think Hakim was meeting with Gabriel? He's working for Talon. The rot on this city is going to spread, and it will ruin the world just like it always does."

"Hakim runs a criminal organization that has strangled Cairo. The police and the government either turned a blind eye or they're being paid off by him. Food supplies aren't being distributed to people who need them. Medical care is almost impossible to get," Ana said. "Look me in the eye and tell me you can leave without doing anything."

"Cairo and the world will suffer until we bring them all down! You have to see the bigger picture," Jack said heatedly.

"Are you even hearing yourself? You would never have made this argument before," Ana said disapprovingly. "The way we do things matters."

"Times change," Jack said with finality. "Either you're coming with me, or I'm leaving. I've already wasted too much time."

“I’m not going,” Ana said.

For a long moment, Jack stared at her in silence. "A sniper takes the most dangerous threat out first. That was your job." Jack picked up his ruined coat. "If you want to waste your time on petty criminals, so be it. I have a war to fight."

He stormed out.

After Jack left, Ana switched on her computer. Jack had been using it earlier, and the screen was cluttered with articles about Reaper’s movements and appearances. Ana wondered who had been supplying Jack with some of this information, but that was a puzzle for another time. She browsed through the reports and remembered the ruined face she had seen behind the mask.

Gabriel… what happened to you?

One of the articles indicated that casualties in one of Reaper's attacks had suffered the same sort of wounds as Jack.

That damned scientist, Ana thought with disgust.

The other information offered little new insight on the Reaper, providing only a view into Jack's mind. He was following a spiderweb of corporations, government officials, and financial institutions, all hopelessly tangled together through corrupt arteries and shady intermediaries. It was the sort of problem that was never Jack's strong suit. He preferred two sides, concrete facts, and one clear, unequivocal decision.

The messy stuff was always Gabriel's arena.

Not as much as it used to be.

Ana considered her options. In her heart, she knew she wanted to stay. Egypt was failing. In a few more years, it was likely that it would fall into chaos, torn apart by profiteers and criminals like Hakim. As the bounty hunter Shrike, she had slowly been making a difference, little by little. If she left, all her work would be undone.

But there are other people here, like Fareeha. They're not helpless. It doesn't have to be you.

That pride again.

She looked back at articles about the vigilante Soldier: 76. One caught her attention: a break-in at LumériCo's newest fusion plant. There’d been a gunfight in the middle of the market—a number of serious injuries and property damage—all of it attributed to him. But there was also eyewitness testimony from a local girl in Dorado. Even though everyone else thought he was someone to fear, she'd called him a hero.

It doesn't have to be you, but sometimes, people need something to believe in.

Ana knew what she needed to do. She walked over to the makeshift shelf that held the treasures she'd found in the necropolis when she'd first arrived. She looked at the feline face on the ancient mask. It was the goddess Bastet.

A guardian.

Jack walked through the sleeping city. The cool night air was a pleasant break from the heat of the day. Given the late hour, the streets were quiet, even though he had wandered into the city center. The stalls selling food, scavenged omnic parts, or fabrics and textiles had all long since shut down. Curfews weren't imposed, but the city's residents were advised to stay indoors after sundown for their own protection. After coming face to face with Reaper, the dark was a pool of shadows that hid the unknown.

Jack had been on the hunt for some time now, gathering information, and tracking what leads he had. He'd had the benefit of being unnoticed, but things had changed. There was no doubt that Talon and its allies knew he was coming for them. He had gotten one good night's sleep since he arrived in Cairo, and it was the first in as long as he could remember.

I can't believe she drugged me, Jack thought.

He was uneasy now. Staying in one place for too long was risky, especially now that Gabe would be looking for him. He had to move on.

Night had crept towards morning and a full moon was hanging lower in the sky when Jack finally returned. Ana was sitting at the computer as he entered.

"Come back for the rest of your things?" she asked without looking up.

He walked over to her, "I'll help you capture Hakim. Once that's done, we go after Reaper."

"We have to make sure the city is secure," Ana corrected him. "I'll only leave with you after things here are settled. That means not just Hakim, but his followers, too. I need to know that the people will be safe."

Jack's jaw clenched as he considered the offer. "Then let's go over to his manor and round him and his men up. One quick strike before they have time to prepare."

Ana shook her head. "No rushing in. Remember how it went last time?"

"It would have been fine if Gabe hadn't showed up," Jack said.

Ana arched an eyebrow.

Jack sighed. "What's the plan then?"

"We start at the bottom and work our way up. Close the net around Hakim, starve him of his resources, and force him out into the open. We have to expose him and the people that are protecting him. Understood?"

Jack sighed, relenting. "You know, I told Gabe they picked the wrong person for Strike-Commander."

"Yes, but you meant him, not me," Ana replied.

"It could have been Reinhardt," Jack smirked.

"Let's not be crazy now."

Ever since the fight at his palace, Hakim had been reticent to return, instead moving between his safehouses in the city. Jack had been able to track down a number of them and found the one that was most conducive to their plans. He rented an apartment that overlooked it. Ana and Jack hadn't bothered with niceties: the room was furnished only with a couple beaten-up wooden chairs and a wooden crate. They took turns with one sleeping bag. After the second day, Ana had insisted on bringing a hot plate so she could make tea.

Within a week, they'd rounded up a number of Hakim's associates, whittling away at his organization. Word spread about someone targeting Hakim's organization. Whoever it was, people agreed, they meant to bring Hakim to justice. But after the initial burst, things had slowed down. Hakim went further underground. He was being more careful. There was nothing to do but wait.

The boredom wasn't so bad for Ana. As a sniper, she had more than her share of patience, and having the freedom to move around, take naps, and even go outside, made it more than tolerable. Jack was restless, though. She saw the way he looked out the window, searching the horizon endlessly, and Ana knew his gaze was fixed on one thing.

Gabriel.

"Anything?" Jack asked, glancing up. He leaned back in his chair in a way that would make a school teacher worried. There was something in his hand.

"No sign of Hakim. What are you looking at?" Ana asked.

"Oh, just reminiscing about the old days." Jack passed over the small stack of photos. They were well-worn, creased in places, and had obviously been Jack's companions for a long time.

The top photo was a picture of them with Gabriel, all three looking young and optimistic, though Gabriel already showed signs of the stress of leadership weighing upon him. They'd just won a major battle in Rio de Janeiro. "I remember the beach," Ana smiled. "We look so serious in this picture—it's funny!"

"That's why it's a great photo!" laughed Jack.

It’s good to know he can still laugh.

She turned to the next one and almost dropped the photos in surprise. She'd never seen the photo, but she recognized it immediately. Jack looked so much younger. He had just stepped off a military transport for leave. It was the other person in the picture that surprised her—a dark-haired man, dressed in a casual, black button up shirt. Jack's arm was around his shoulder.

Vincent.

"Vincent… I haven't thought about him in years," Ana said. "Still keeping a candle lit for him?"

Jack shook his head. "Nothing like that."

"You've never looked in on him? You must have been curious. All the surveillance power in the world. I bet Gabe would have put a Blackwatch agent on him if you asked," Ana said.

Jack glared at her.

"Okay, touchy subject."

Jack laughed. "He got married. They're very happy. I'm happy for him."

Ana was unconvinced. In the early days, Jack talked about him often, floating a dream that the war would end quickly, and maybe he'd have a chance to return to a normal life.

But a normal life was never the reward for people like us.

"Vincent deserved a happier life than the one I could give him." Jack sighed. "We both knew that I could never put anything above my duty. Everything I fought for was to protect people like him… That's the sacrifice I made."

"Relationships don't work out so well for us, do they?" Ana said, unconsciously running her thumb over where her wedding ring used to be.

"At least you and Gabe managed to have families."

The pair lapsed back into silence.

Ana glanced out the window to see the familiar figure of Hakim entering the apartment block. "It's him." Ana passed the photos back to Jack, who carefully slid them into the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Ready?" Jack asked as he put his mask and targeting visor on, picking up the heavy pulse rifle where he had propped it against the wall.

Ana took her own rifle, quite a bit more manageable than Jack's, and slung it over her shoulder. She clipped a few flashbangs to her belt and then retrieved the last item from her pack: the black and gold mask.

"You're bringing that?" Jack asked.

"You inspired me, Jack. Soldier: 76 is more than a vigilante. The world knows that name. Your enemies are afraid you'll find them. I don't want Hakim, Talon, or anyone else to plunge Cairo back into chaos the second I'm gone. I'm putting on a new mask. Not a hunter this time, a protector. The kind of persona that I could leave behind to keep the people safe… Bastet."

"I just thought my mask was scary." Jack smiled.

"Bastet is scarier than an old lady."

"Ana, there's nothing scarier than an old lady," Jack said.

"You would know."

One week later, Ana and Jack were packing up the necropolis base. They'd leave much of Ana's belongings behind, taking only what they needed for the journey ahead. Hakim and his network of criminals had been dismantled. The news had started to report about the movements of a guardian named Bastet who had captured Hakim and exposed the extent of his crimes. Even the government was forced to act.

"What about these?" Jack pointed at the shelf that had the Egyptian artifacts on it.

"I could barely manage carrying you, and you want me to bring all this?" Ana said. "It's well-hidden. It will just wait here until I can find a proper caretaker."

"Fareeha?" Jack guessed. "You talked to her?"

"I… left her a message," Ana said.

"You're sure you can leave things like this? It could be a long time before you see her again."

If ever.

Ana sighed. "She never responded to my first letter."

Jack winced. "She'll come around in time. She loves you. Did you tell Sam anything?"

"I will, eventually. Maybe," Ana said. "I made a big enough mess of his life without having to give him the news. None of us are very good at saying goodbye, are we?"

"We're better than Reinhardt, anyway. I'm pretty sure his life is just one long attempt to avoid saying a goodbye."

"How is he?" Ana asked.

"That's a long story," Jack said. "But I suppose we'll have time."

Ana nodded. "There's something I want to be clear about before we leave, Jack," Ana said. "I'm going with you, but I'm not convinced that this is a good idea at all. Talon, Overwatch, Gabriel… I already let go of them. It hurt." She paused. "When I first came to the necropolis, most of the artifacts I found were ruined. I saved what I could, but I had to leave the rest. That's what's most important, Commander."

"Don't call me, that," Jack groused. "And come on. We need to pay a visit to some old friends."

They left the necropolis, sealing the entrance behind them. Long after they'd left, the relics of ancient civilizations laid in wait in the darkness of that dusty room. At the center of them all was a golden mask bearing the face of a goddess. Just as it remained in the hearts of the people of Cairo, and the fears of those who would harm them: a mask and a name.

[enthblaze]

LIST OF BEINGS/CREATURES IN MY TWINS PIRATE AU (currently):

Hamato Yoshi - rat

Tang Shen - shapeshifting mermaid

Leonardo - box turtle

Giovanni - box turtle

Donatello - box turtle

Raphael - box turtle

Michelangelo - box turtle

Oroku Saki - shapeshifting horned viper snake

Oroku Karai - shapeshifting horned viper snake

Tiger Claw - bengal tiger

April O'Neil - shapeshifting kraang (hybrid between a kraken and a siren)

Casey Jones - shapeshifting mermaid

Timothy - shapeshifting kraken

Alopex - red fox

Akane Usagi - white rabbit

Xever Montes - snakehead fish

Chris Bradford - grey wolf

[frontproofmedia]

A not-so-in-depth look at the NFL divisions

By: Joseph Correa

Follow @Frontproofmedia!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0],p=/^http:/.test(d.location)?'http':'https';if(!d.getElementById(id))(document, 'script', 'twitter-wjs');

A not-so-in-depth look at the NFL divisions…

It’s almost September; The air is thick with the aroma of sizzling brats and the sound of beer cans cracking open. You slip on your lucky jersey, the one with the ketchup stain from last year's nail-biter, and head out to meet your buddies for the season opener. This, my friends, is the magic of NFL kickoff.

As I dive headfirst into the 2024 season, let's journey through the NFL's eight divisions. Every team has a story from the titans of the gridiron to the underdogs nipping at their heels. So, grab your foam finger and settle in; we're about to break down the upcoming season in all its glory, heartbreak, and inevitable chaos.

AFC North: Where Legends Are Forged

If the AFC North were a person, it'd be that grizzled old-timer at the bar who's seen it all and has the scars to prove it. This division isn't just competitive; it's downright brutal.

Last year, all four teams finished with winning records – a feat unseen since bell-bottoms were unironically cool (that's 1970, for you youngsters). HBO's "Hard Knocks: In Season" couldn't resist the siren call of this division's drama. I mean, who could?

Let's start with the Baltimore Ravens, last year's AFC top seed. They've lost more defensive coaches than most teams have in total. But in Baltimore, that's Tuesday. John Harbaugh probably woke up, saw the exodus, shrugged, and went back to his coffee. That's just how they roll.

Then there's Cleveland. Ah, Cleveland. The Browns are all-in on Deshaun Watson like a gambler doubling down on a hard 16. Will 2024 be the year this high-stakes bet pays off, or will Browns fans be left drowning their sorrows in Great Lakes beer... again?

Don't forget Cincinnati. They're banking on a healthy Joe Burrow like he's the second coming of Joe Montana. If his throwing arm is as golden as his hair, the Bengals might just remind everyone why they were Super Bowl darlings not so long ago.

And Pittsburgh? Mike Tomlin's been there so long that he probably has his own parking spot at Heinz Field. Now he's taking on the Russell Wilson reclamation project. It's like watching a master chef try to turn a McDonald's burger into filet mignon. Can he pull it off? In this division, anything's possible.

Buckle up, folks. This 18-week slugfest is going to leave us all black and blue – and loving every minute of it.

NFC North: The Tides of Change

Remember when the NFC North was as predictable as a Wisconsin cheese curd tasting delicious? Those days are as gone as Brett Favre's Packers jersey.

The Detroit Lions, long the NFL's favorite punching bag, have suddenly grown teeth. Their journey from "lovable losers" to "holy cow, they might actually win something" feels like it was ripped straight from a Disney sports movie. The real question is: can Dan Campbell's knee-biting, coffee-chugging energy translate into sustained success, or will the Lions pull a Detroit and... well, Lion?

But don't write off the Packers just yet. Jordan Love spent three years marinating on the bench behind Aaron Rodgers. Now he's serving up wins like a short-order cook on a Sunday morning rush. This youth movement in Green Bay has Cheeseheads dreaming of another decade of dominance. It's as exciting as it is terrifying for the rest of the division.

Chicago Bears fans, I see you. I know you've been hurt before. But Caleb Williams might just be the real deal. He could be the franchise quarterback you've been waiting for since. Well, has Chicago ever had a truly great quarterback? This could be the year the Monsters of the Midway finally have some teeth on offense.

And the Vikings? They're in quarterback purgatory faster than you can say "J.J. McCarthy's meniscus." But hey, in the NFL, today's backup is tomorrow's MVP. Just ask Kurt Warner. Or Tom Brady. Or... you get the point.

AFC East: The King Is Dead, Long Live... Who, Exactly?

Pour one out for the New England Patriots dynasty, folks. We spent two decades penciling them in as division champs, and now the only sure bet is that they won't win it. It's like watching your high school bully become the guy who can't open pickle jars.

Now we've got a three-way dance between the Jets, Dolphins, and Bills that's wilder than a Buffalo tailgate party.

The Jets are the media darlings with a healthy Aaron Rodgers. But let's be real – this is a franchise so cursed, they could probably find a way to lose a bye week. If there's a way to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, the Jets will find it. It's their superpower.

Miami's been flirting with success like a commitment-phobe on Tinder. Back-to-back playoff appearances are nice, but in the land Don Shula built, "almost" is just a fancy word for "not good enough." This could be the year they finally swipe right on a division title... or get left on read again.

And then there's Buffalo. They've shed more big names than a Hollywood rehab center, but counting out a team led by Josh Allen feels like betting against gravity. The man could probably throw a football over them mountains, as Uncle Rico would say.

This division is a powder keg of potential, ready to explode. Just don't stand too close when it does.

NFC East: America's (Drama) Team(s)

If the NFC East were a TV show, it'd be a soap opera with occasional football scenes. It's got more drama than a Real Housewives reunion and just as many unexpected twists.

The Eagles took a nosedive last season faster than a Philly fan's mood after a loss. But they seem poised for a comeback. In Philly, hope springs eternal... until about Week 3.

Meanwhile, in Dallas, Jerry Jones has put everyone on notice. The Cowboys are under more pressure than a submarine at the bottom of the ocean. It's "win now or... win now" in Big D.

The Giants are hoping Daniel Jones can justify his contract like I justify eating an entire pizza by myself – with a lot of mental gymnastics and a dash of blind optimism.

And then there's Washington, the wild card with a new QB (Jayden Daniels) and a new sheriff in town (Dan Quinn). They're like that mystery flavor of potato chip – could be delicious, could be disaster.

On paper, it's a two-horse race. But in the NFC East, paper is about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.

AFC South: Revenge of the Nerds, NFL Edition

Remember when we all thought the AFC South would be the NFL's punching bag in 2023? The Houston Texans looked at that prediction, said "Hold my beer," and proceeded to shock the world harder than a wet finger in an electrical socket.

DeMeco Ryans, C.J. Stroud, and company didn't just win the division; they made a statement in the playoffs louder than a Texan saying "y'all." Now, with additions like Stefon Diggs and Joe Mixon, Houston looks ready to build an empire faster than you can say "Remember the Alamo."

But don't count out the Jaguars. They're surely still stinging from last year's late-season collapse harder than a sunburn on a Florida beach. Trevor Lawrence and crew are out to prove that last year was the fluke, not the year before.

The Colts proved they could compete even without a star quarterback, which, in the modern NFL, is like trying to win a drag race in a golf cart. Impressive, if nothing else.

And Tennessee? New coach Brian Callahan might be the breath of fresh air they needed. Or he might be the air freshener trying to cover up last year's stink. Only time will tell.

NFC West: The 49ers and Their Supporting Cast

The 49ers have ruled this division with an iron fist for two years. They're like that one kid in school who's good at everything – you want to hate them, but damn, they make it look easy.

They're favorites to three-peat, but the rest of the division isn't exactly rolling over. The Rams bounced back last year like a rubber ball dropped from the top of the Hollywood sign. They've only gotten stronger, which should terrify everyone not wearing red and gold.

Seattle's hoping defensive guru Mike Macdonald can work more magic than Houdini. If he can make their defense disappear and reappear as a top unit, the Seahawks might just swoop in for the upset.

And don't sleep on Arizona. Kyler Murray's back, hopefully with a renewed focus on the playbook instead of Call of Duty. Add in explosive rookie Marvin Harrison Jr., and suddenly, the Cardinals look less like sacrificial birds and more like phoenixes rising from the ashes.

It might be San Francisco's division to lose, but don't be shocked if this becomes the most entertaining division in football. It's like a sitcom where the straight man is surrounded by chaos – and I'm here for it.

AFC West: Living in the Chiefs' Shadow

When you share a division with the Chiefs, life isn't just hard – it's like trying to run a marathon while carrying Patrick Mahomes on your back. Just ask the Chargers, Raiders, and Broncos how that feels.

Kansas City might not have cruised to the playoffs last year, but betting against them feels like playing Russian roulette with five loaded chambers. At this point, the Chiefs don't rebuild; they reload.

But here's the million-dollar question: can anyone challenge the ketchup king's throne?

Sean Payton's cooking something in Denver, and it smells a lot like hope... or maybe that's just the altitude. Antonio Pierce brings fresh energy to Las Vegas, turning the Raiders from a punchline into a potential contender.

And the Chargers? They've got Jim Harbaugh now. If anyone can exorcise the Chargers' demons, it's the khaki-wearing, milk-chugging quarterback whisperer himself.

The AFC West might not be the powerhouse it was hyped to be a couple of years ago, but calling it boring would be like calling Chiefs fans "kind of into football." That's a massive understatement.

NFC South: The Island of Misfit Teams

If you're looking for parity, you've come to the wrong place. The NFC South has become a testament to mediocrity, the participation trophy of NFL divisions.

Tampa Bay won the division in 2023 with a 9-8 record. That's like being the tallest kid in kindergarten – sure, you're at the top, but the competition isn't exactly fierce. And this was an improvement over their 8-9 division-winning record in 2022. At this rate, they might break .500 by 2025!

But don't despair, NFC South fans. There's hope on the horizon, and it's wearing red and black.

Atlanta's gone on a spending spree that would make a lottery winner blush. They've brought in Kirk Cousins, Matthew Judon, and Justin Simmons. It's like they're playing real-life Madden with the salary cap turned off.

New Orleans is rebooting its offense like a 90s sitcom getting a gritty modern remake. Will it work? Who knows, but it'll be fun to watch.

And Carolina... oh, Carolina. They've got nowhere to go but up under new coach Dave Canales. When your previous season is a dumpster fire, even a tire fire looks like progress.

It's a division of second chances and redemption stories. Who doesn't love a good comeback tale? Well, maybe fans of the other 28 teams, but who's counting?

In Conclusion: Buckle Up, Buttercup

From the gladiatorial arena of the AFC North to the redemption-seeking NFC South, the 2024 NFL season promises more twists and turns than a pretzel factory. We're in for a rollercoaster of emotions, breakout performances, and upsets so shocking they'll make your grandfather's dentures fall out.

Whether you're a die-hard fan who paints your face every Sunday or a casual observer who just likes to watch large men run into each other, there's a storyline here for everyone.

So grab your jersey (yes, even you, Jets fans), fire up the grill, and settle in. The next five months are going to be one hell of a ride. After all, in the NFL, the only certainty is uncertainty – and that's precisely why we can't look away.

Featured photo: Illustration by Bryce Wood

[yashvitours]

Uttarakhand: A Tapestry Woven with Spirit and Adventure

Uttarakhand, nestled in the mighty embrace of the Himalayas, whispers an irresistible invitation. It’s a land where snow-capped peaks kiss the heavens, rivers carve emerald valleys like veins on verdant skin, and spirituality dances a vibrant tango with adventure.

For souls yearning for rejuvenation, Uttarakhand promises an odyssey unlike any other. Whether you seek solace in ancient temples, where chants echo through timeworn stones, or adrenaline-pumping thrills that leave your heart pounding like a Himalayan drum, this Himalayan haven has your heart’s rhythm tattooed on its map. So, pack your bags, lace your boots, and prepare to embark on a journey with our uttarakhand tour packages that will leave you spellbound, whispering, “Uttarakhand, I must explore you once again!”

Char Dhams – Where Faith Flows Like the Ganges

Uttarakhand’s spiritual aura precedes it. Here, the land cradles the sacred Char Dhams, revered as the abodes of celestial beings. Gangotri, Yamunotri, Kedarnath, and Badrinath – their names echo through the ages, whispering promises of liberation. A pilgrimage isn’t just a journey; it’s a transformative bath, washing away the dust of the mundane and granting a glimpse of the divine.

Imagine dipping in the holy Ganges at Har-Ki-Pauri, the gateway to the Char Dhams. Feel the cool water caress your skin, a baptism in the heart of ancient faith. Witness the grand Kumbh Mela, a spectacle of humanity pulsating with devotion, or wander vibrant markets, soaking in the intoxicating scent of incense and whispered prayers.

The Valley of Flowers – Where Blooms Sing a Symphony

Close your eyes and imagine a carpet woven with nature’s finest blooms. A riot of colors, a kaleidoscope of life erupting from verdant meadows – welcome to the Valley of Flowers. Every summer, this alpine paradise transforms into a symphony of vibrant hues, a siren call to trekkers and nature lovers.

Embark on a rejuvenating trek, breathe in the crisp mountain air, and let the breathtaking beauty wash over you. Spot rare Himalayan flora like the cobra lily and edelweiss, each bloom a testament to nature’s artistry. Capture the essence of this wonderland in your memories, a silent promise to return to its embrace.

Rishikesh – Yoga Capital of the World

For those seeking spiritual enlightenment, Rishikesh, the Yoga capital of the world, is your haven. Nestled on the banks of the holy Ganges, Rishikesh pulsates with an energy that’s both calming and invigorating. Immerse yourself in yoga and meditation under the tutelage of revered gurus, or simply soak in the tranquil atmosphere as you witness the evening Ganga Aarti, a mesmerizing fire ritual that paints the river with dancing flames.

Let the sound of flowing water and chanting mantras lull you into a state of deep relaxation. Discover the ancient wisdom of yoga, a path to inner peace amidst the serenity of Rishikesh. Find yourself, not in the echoes of the mountains, but in the quietude within.

Haridwar, Where Faith Flows Like the Ganges

Haridwar, another holy town on the Ganges, is the gateway to the Char Dhams. Its ghats teeming with pilgrims and priests, and the aroma of incense filling the air, create an atmosphere of devout fervor. Take a dip in the sacred Har-Ki-Pauri, a baptism in the heart of faith. Witness the grand Kumbh Mela, or simply wander through the vibrant markets, soaking in the spiritual essence.

Jim Corbett National Park, Where Thrills Roar

But Uttarakhand is more than just temples and tranquility. For the adventurer within, it offers a playground of untamed wilderness. Jim Corbett National Park, India’s first national park, is a refuge for diverse wildlife, including the majestic Royal Bengal Tiger. Embark on an exhilarating jeep safari, or go bird watching amidst the dense foliage, and lose yourself in the primal rhythm of the jungle.

Other Adventures

Ski down snow-clad slopes in Auli, the “Switzerland of India,” and experience the thrill of winter sports amidst breathtaking Himalayan vistas.

Conquer the rapids of the Ganges on a white water rafting adventure, feeling the adrenaline surge as you navigate the roaring currents.

Soar through the skies on a paragliding adventure in Rishikesh, witnessing panoramic views of the valley below.

Explore the quaint hill stations of Nainital and Mussoorie, where colonial charm meets breathtaking scenery. Boat on Naini Lake, hike to Tiffin Top in Mussoorie, or simply soak in the cool mountain air.

Conclusion

As you embark on your Uttarakhand adventure, Yashvi Tours and Travels will be your trusted companion. We’ll be your confidante, your guide, and your partner in crafting memories etched in eternity.

So, dear traveler, what are you waiting for? The mountains whisper, the rivers sing, and the valleys beckon. Come, explore Uttarakhand, where every step unveils a wonder, and every experience paints a masterpiece on the soul’s canvas.

Book your Uttarakhand adventure with Yashvi Tours and Travels today, and let the magic begin!

Remember, Uttarakhand is not just a destination; it’s a feeling.

Article Source : https://www.yashvitours.com/uttarakhand-a-tapestry-woven-with-spirit-and-adventure/

[feuerwizard]

The wizard's laughter echoed through the air, a rare sound. Those who came to knew Caleb would be quick to point out that such mirth was a rarity for him. “I do find it enjoyable, ja. It’s, ah, been a part of my life since I was much younger. I took to it quickly.” From the moment his parents returned home with a worn book of beginner cantrips, Caleb's fascination with the Weave and its mysteries ignited. Pages filled with ancient glyphs and intricate spells, beckoning to him like a siren's call. Attending an Academy to accel further quickly became Caleb's dream, and one day that dream had turned into a haunting nightmare.

“I don’t know about endless amounts of fuzzy friends, but Frumpkin is very special.” With a casual flick of his wrist, he dragged the stick in the dirt to create his glyph. His movements effortless and precise, as if he had done this a thousand times before to summon his familiar. “I had a bengal cat just like Frumpkin when I was a child. I think about him often.” Every time he drifted off to sleep, the image of that cat curled up in his lap while his mutter made dinner would play out in his mind.

"You say that like it's a problem." Though she had always been fascinated at the magic at one's fingers, she'd never managed to get the hang of it herself. Where some held the prowess and natural affinity for it, Karlach seemed to barely have a single ounce of it in her. That worked for her, really, as she found that when push came to shove, she'd rather have something heavy in her hands. An axe. A hammer. A particularly heavy boulder. She followed Caleb quite happily, and once he had found his spot, she sat cross-legged on the ground in front of him, her eyes trained on the little owl.

Then he was gone. Oh, she hated it when he was gone. As far as time went, in this moment, it felt as though they had all of it in the world. Where he was settled and her engine was calm enough that it whirred almost silently in her breast. That was a fucking miracle in and of itself, really. "Oh, psssh. That'd take the fun out of it." She paused. "You... do find magic fun, don't ya? I'd imagine being able to conjure endless amounts of fuzzy little friends would be a lot of fun. Always did envy the summoners in Avernus."

[pseudospectre]

[wwprice1]

Ivys. By Bengal and Elias Chatzoudis.

[fumikomiyasaki]

Fantasy Au

I did work more on it because it seemed like the most fun to develop and so I did make some more infos and a small drawing to go out of it.

Factions:

Nobles:

Nightwing House (Head Flynn)

Loketon House (Rubinas parents)

Dawnstar House (Emmas Family)

Swordborn House (Samuels Family)

Hopesteria House (Komes Family)

Thunderrain House (Parton Family)

Fullblossom House (Marcell)

Kingdoms:

Lakeside Kingdom (Henrys Family)

Ashwood Kingdom (Led by Belia as Queen)

Grimstone Kingdom (Tesa and Gabrielle)

Flamestone Kingdom (Dragiselles Kingdom)

_____________________________________________________

Leroy: Assassin who worked with his father until they didn’t agree on Visions and so they split the clans apart, Leroy is a Tiefling

Henry: Sea Creature race, Is a prince of a Kingdom, however didn’t want to be stuck in a castle forever so he snuck out and traveled the world, Leroy faked his death so Henry can finally be free and learn about the world

Mellow: Half Elf Merchant… many people trust him and his wares go all across the kingdom, however thanks to his hobby of making paintings he wished to one day find his significant other

Carol: Runaway half-elf, her parents wanted their daughter to marry rich and she was against that so she became a traveling mage, working with a Researcher to try to find cures for diseases and spread hope across the country… she also takes students to teach them magic.

Lyla and Eikichi: Inventors who work hard to modernize the kingdoms… They tried to keep up with many new ideas and developed some machines that improved everything.

Grey: He still writes stories, however these spread rumors and even caused some wrong assumptions about kingdoms as well as rumors that broke relationships, so he only shares them in secret, especially because his body got a curse after one story that stole his voice.

Bolt: A secret experiment of the kingdom who became quite the dangerous creature so Bolt is trapped in the basement of the Kingdom… hopping to one day be like the other humans

Naomi:  Sea creature monster that works like a Siren and eats humans when they fall for her gaze.

Camilla: Basically the same as in Canon... she guarded Phobetor as a prince... however instead of the tragedy, he was cursed one day and she is now trying to find a cure for his curse.

Bengal: Peasant who wants to be a well known noble or performer when he can. Often sells odd items. Moonlights as a singer in some bars. Specifically often stops by Vanessas tavern

Eiji:  Has a cursed shop in the underground, often going out scavenging corpses from the war and using the material for artifacts and magic potions... has been backstabbing anyone who didn’t approve of him. Was actually created by a witch as a golem.

Kumo:  Thief slowly dragged into the Assassin buisness for a kingdom, having a bounty as high as anyone for what he does. Works alone and not like leroy in a guild... Known among many villagers as the midnight shadow.

Meyra:  Noble countess forced into a marriage like in canon but instead she is still stuck in her mansion and only sometimes sneaks out to dance in some illegal facilities to at least feel somewhat free.

Fuan:  Angel hiding among the humans to watch over them... became part of the Hopesterias knights but also seems plagued by some pain going near the heiress.

Phobetor:  Being popular and rejecting a witch cause he loved Camilla he got cursed and turned into a demon... he tries hard to keep control and not harm her while Camilla tries to find a cure for his condition.. they both hide away.

Flynn: Nobleman of the Nightwing Family, Flynn may seem like a caple head of the house, however he has lots of secret dirt behind the back with Leroy taking out people for him, and him collecting many shady or lost people

Nanoya: The most Loyal Guard to Flynn, was found by him after slaying half of beast that attacked his village which is why he has many scars on his skin in this world as well

Rubina:  A noblewoman of the Loketon family, Rubina was supposed to marry the Noble of the Parton Family, however she was very against this idea… at a mask ball Flynn kidnapped her out of there and made her a Guard of his… now she poses as a man to hide her identity

Peko: Peko Is a young girl who became a Traveling Songstress after telling her parents she doesn't want to marry to become a Queen. She is still naive of the world and usually ends up as the damsel of the situation.

Emma: Also has many sisters, part of the Dawnstar family they were however forced by her mother to be perfect Ladies for marriage into riches, Emma escaped and became a Mercenary and tries to become strong enough to protect herself. She often rescues Peko out of harm's way.

Gregory: Carrying the title of Dark Knight of the Nightwing Family… Gregory is a very powerful dark mage who always carried Tonics to help him. He still has that gem in his chest in this universe however he got it carved in as a kid being used as an experiment on many other kids like him. A witch fell in love with him however cursed him with a seal that one day would be the death of him…

Tyler and Rachel: They worked for the Royal palace to make the finest dresses and clothing, but after Rachel made inferior products, Tyler stayed and she got fired and sent away from the Kingdom. She instead became very popular in the enemy Kingdom. And so they compete usually with each other…

Gabrielle and Tesa: They basically have the same roles as in Canon, only their Kingdom is seen in a worse light given the people fear dragons more.

Aiden: He was cursed and is now half Human and turns on full moon into a beast creature…usually he wears an eyepatch in his human form and hunts animals to sell them to the kingdoms and villages ... also known as the wolf warrior.

Media:  Media is a simple farmers boy, working with Mellow to provide his wares and Aiden to bring his wares to people, he was a bishop for the town… however he quit this cause he wanted to help the people with more important work to him.. providing food for hunger.

Tenera: Is a mythical being… immortal and giving advice to passing travelers and blessing some with her powers…

Dragiselle: Her kingdom exists however her parents died more through the war and now she is quite a ruthless queen who slowly grows into the role. In this Au she is not a fairy anymore.

Inessa: The queen's advisor and probably the reason Dragiselle is more ruthless, she was a witch previously and now although still being lightly in love with Dragiselle, manipulates her into her will.

Taron: They are  an actual Scientist of the Dragiselles kingdom… providing her with all the newest ideas They have. It was that cause he is a Human Fairy hybrid, many look at him odd.

Tiam and Zyan: Work together as Alchemists at the Nightwing house to make all the Tonics for Greg and the Poisons for Leroy to achieve their goals. While Tiam is insecure about what they make, Zyan is the one who might seem odd to people but can sell them better.

Kayne: Was an assassin of the Violet assassin clan however is now the Guard of Samuels noble family. Calling Samuel Young master.

Quora: Barbaric Warrior that works for the Ashwood Kingdom most likely, she usually takes charge in war and has more scars

Kome: Noblewoman who wants to get out of her mansion, but her sickness makes her stuck their and her parents search desperate for something to keep her alive

Ame:  Spirit haunting a painting in the Hopesteria house, wanting to one day get to the heiress and take over her body to live again... not releasing the Heiress might not have the most stable body.

Ronnie: plays the Jester of the Flamestone kingdom, however he is partially the reason for pulling the strings with Inessa and making the kingdom a mess… in this universe he is not a experiment but has a evil being in him

Eleafy: Priest of the Flamestone kingdom, Ronnie has power over him and makes him gather a cult with his influence and so Eleafy is like only a puppet for him to manipulate

Emil: Lost his arm fully after confronting Ronnie about his evil plans… worked for Dragiselles castle before but now thanks to his lost arm is back in the village with his parents plotting his revenge to disrupt Ronnie's plans.

Sindren: Knight of the Grimstone Kingdom, Sindren bent to protect the kingdom at all cost and became a Knight captain because of that. She had past relation with the noble of the Parton Family, however she never wants to speak about it

Mythra: A alluring witch who lured many men and women into her trap of falling for her and getting lost in the woods… more that they usually arrive at her house and she uses their lifesource for her spells and looks… she is a myth among the village.

Feena: Lost her legs in battle and now became the first experiment to make her artificial legs… works with Sindren as a knight.

Fennec: A traveling adventurer seeking for artifacts and looking for a antidote for curses so he can save his brother

Vanessa: Is secretly a Witch but works in a tavern as bartender making her drinks special and tries to improve her tonics. Her goal is to make special potions with special effects.

Macie: Commoner who met Peko as a songstress and got annoyed by one boy she had a crush on fell in love with her and since then she tries to also become a singer to impress him.

Barry: Nobleman of the Thunderrain house, originally he was supposed to marry Rubina, now he tries to woo as many women as possible with his status till his parents find him a marriage candidate again.

Francine: Barry's Advisor and a powerful fighter. She is annoyed by his antics and gets him out of trouble but hopes herself to find a different job one day.

Gilly: Cyclops hiding thier face, playing a hero in the thunderrain kingdom, catching thiefs and thugs all around. Often joining Joel on a day with some paintings.

Yuzuha:  working in a brothel as an informant, he searches after the so called Grim reaper and investigates how to stop him, stopping at nothing, not even the temptation of dark magic.Secretly learning to be a warlock.

Louis:  Same as in Canon.

Kaeru:  Fisherman in the Lakeside kingdom, known to investigate Ghosts at night.

Paula: Noblewoman of the Thunderrain house… however she wanted to escape and became a secret dancer in one of the taverns outside the kingdom… Hoping her family would never find her again.

Brenda: A Witch who is after the riches of many nobles... She often would try to blend into a kingdom, marry into money, fake a death and run away with it.

Osyron and Lydia: Basically are still gods however they didn’t enter the human realm and just through Shrines sometimes talk to the humans.

Fabio: A Mythical Wood creature who often only appears at night... he is mainly seen by those pure of heart but many also set hunt for him so he rarely shows himself.

Saneria: Living in a dark cave she works together with Eleafy to spread more cult like influences... keeping control

Ione: Is a direct messenger of Osyron and Lydia and often as vessle for their messages.

Lennox: Rumored sea creature  guarding a very enchanted weapon.... hoping to interact with the human world but struggling to do so cause many want to hunt him for who he is Izar:  Similar to canon he is a banned prince but found in another kingdom influence as an informations salesman, slowly building an army in the underground to one day take his throne back, secretly also cursed

Zariyah:  Knights apprentice in the Swordborn house.... daily one to give Kayne courage and a symbol of inspiration to many villagers

April: A Succubus that fools humans on the streets and if they lose a game against her… she takes their souls and moves on

Julian: An Incubus who seeks out mainly young nobles to get revenge on them for misdeeds

Taylin: She lost her eyesight to a witch and since then… Most of the Village took care of her however she waits for someone she sends out that could help her cure this.

Beelby: Similar to Osyron and Lydia he is not really present aside maybe being the cause of some people turning into beasts.

Joel: Street artist who often amazes with small tricks... has been in the dungeon before and is on the run.

Serena: As distant Relative to the Parton House, Serena disguises herself as commoner to see what the people need and tries to make their lives easier.

Elvira: Priestess of the Ashwood Kingdom, Elvira spreads her morals which often lead along the people but also cause uprisings.

Kuze:  A young painter who often paints awfully dark things and has a cult following

Yasuno: Also known as the Grim Reaper, he is in actuality a traveling warlock which often kidnaps people to test spells on them.

Erena:  A fire Spirit living in a Vulcano, often prayed to for good food and many cook inside of the Vulcano they reside in... so she is never really alone.

Slice:  The main Jester of the Dawnstar House. Often Slips however into the Nightwing house having some friends there, and keeping good relations between both houses.

Sylva:  Noble Countess who often sneaks among commoners and brings starving children something to make their life better. Often target of thiefs trying to steal her riches.

Jin-Lou:  Half-Dragon who protects a mountains treasure with her life... often gets visited by Sylva who checks up on her and befriended her over time... being an ally to her noble house

Staff:

Erwin: A Scholar who teaches many young inventors and Alchemists his ways… has a war scar on his neck

Seraphim:  Loyal Guard of the Ashwood Kingdom and usually trains new recruits in fencing

Malorie: Owns a small cabaret where she often dances, only to give the people entertainment in hard times,

Marcell: Nobleman of The Fullblossom house who had some habits of keeping his past lovers in his basement so they never try to run from him… he too would turn into a beast at full moon.

Amalia: Head of the towns newspaper and usually very busy spreading messages and news

Sol: Mage on Quest to reclaim His memory, necromancing creatures of Darkness

Belia: Queen of the Ashwood Kingdom with her little daughter Bethany being the princess. Her warriors are loyal and strong however she is afraid of letting Bethany outside of the castle walls.

Beatrice: A Witch that lives of Fortune telling and has prophecies about the Future.

Valeria: Knight for the Ashwood kingdom striving to be more and more Powerful each day… probably half demonic in secret

Pherea: Familiar of Beatrice, curse by someone else to be a Cat

Shadman: Merchant who usually gets thrown out the Kingdom or bullied (my cabbages guy)

Nakamura: again Mentor of Gabriele and Tesa

Angelica: The Royal chef of Belia but also she usually has her own Restaurant in town

Kaden: A mythical being living in the woods having ties to Heaven and Hell, said to be cursed to bring nightmares.

Soyana: A roaming Demon who sells wares in the underground.

Marin: Underground information person who is a spy against all kingdoms

Fumiko:   A Pixie spreading courage to by passing humans by whispering songs in their ears... often gets hunted

_____________________________________________________________

[marsdenlee]

Synopsis: It's a very Merry Chrysler (2023) in the Lee-Bolt household, gifts are exchanged including the official establishment of their very special family. Trigger Warnings: beebs being disgustingly adorable, also some suggestive adult content

MARS

The day began with full merriment as it was necessary. Marsden, despite his generally dark attire and borderline gothic punk aesthetic, was a massive fan of the wintery holiday and so from the moment he woke up in the morning, which was at an astonishingly early six o'clock for he had been very much excited to get the day started early, up until now it was non-stop Christmas mode. 

He had on his ugly Christmas sweater, which was this year Bengals themed because his favorite team was doing very well this year and he had high hopes they would make it to the playoffs and then the Superbowl in the following year so was representing them, and also wore red plaid trousers because it fit the Christmas theme and the pairing of the two articles of clothing was a bit jarring  but he made it work, the ridiculousness of it seemed to be improved upon by the theme and the Santa hat he had on his head. 

"Presents, baby, presents," the siren would plead with all the excitement in his body buzzing like a bomb about to implode as he bounced on the edge of the bed and landed draping himself across the werewolf where he then started to play punch at the man's chest, making impact sound effects as each hit 'landed.'

RYDEN

His morning was off, the only obligation Ryden had on the day was to spend it with family and make a brief appearance at the Den and the festivities the pack was preparing there every year for Christmas. But other than that, he was as free as a bird so although Marsden waking up at six in the morning had also woken the wolf up - it would’ve happened even on a calmer day let alone today, Ryden’s sleep light and easily disturbed as it was - Ryden still chose to remain in bed after the siren, just lounging under the covers with arms folded behind his head under the pillow, eyes resting. 

He felt the bed bounce, warning him of potential impact so he was ready when the siren landed on him, only playfully grunting out as if the weight actually had any ways of hurting him. He chuckled as Mars play-punched at him, morning voice more gravely than usual, still working on waking up although its owner already was. “I got me present rite ‘ere, I’m unwrappin’ it.” He cracked an eye open, one arm unfolding from behind his head to find the hem of Marsden’s ugly Christmas sweater and tug on it, no actual force or determination behind the action, more a playful threat of undressing than anything else.

MARS

"Ah, ah, ah," the siren scolded as he felt the fabric of his sweater tug at the hem and Ryden's fingers were the culprit, he leaned in to capture devious smirking lips with his own, taunting along the slope of a cupid's bow, "That's fer later," the siren promised with a kiss. "Real presents, baby, those're fer now." Marden made a good attempt to wrap his arms around Ryden's middle, snuggling comfortably against the softly rising chest as the werewolf breathed, his cheek against a softly muscled chest, the best place for a nap in his not so very humble opinion, but this wasn't nap time. It was time to roll and the siren tugged and pulled and strained, grunting with effort to pull the werewolf along with him, attempting to roll himself onto his back and Ryden atop of him because that would be one step closer to getting up and out of bed.

RYDEN

Sufficiently placated, Ryden ceased his attempts to pull the ugly Christmas sweater off Marsden - he didn’t really put his mind to it in the first place anyway, he was used to their mornings being often reserved for everything else besides fooling around - and just enjoyed what he could get, which was sweet kisses. “When’s later?” He asked playfully against the other’s lips, not really needing an answer. He returned both hands to being folded under the pillow behind his head. “I didn’t git ya nothin’, whoops.” He joked. Of course he got Mars a gift for Christmas. He was just feeling playful, Marsden’s holiday enthusiasm contagious. Though he had to admit he liked Mars trying to snuggle up to him more, he wished they didn’t have to get up even for presents, and could remain like this for most of the day. When Ryden worked hard, he worked hard, but when he was lazy, he was terribly lazy. 

But Marsden didn’t stay idle and resting against his chest for too long, soon enough he was making attempts to roll them over and Ryden shifted around, switching their positions easily. Once he was on top he simply deposited the majority of his weight onto the siren with a wistful sigh, effectively pinning the other man to the mattress. “Jus’ five more minutes, kay? Two? One. Even one is fine.” He bargained, burying his face in the crook of Mars’ neck.

MARS

Mars delighted immediately at the weight of Ryden's body laying over him that he, for now, gave up entirely on his attempts at getting the other man out of the bed. There was no sweeter place than being in his warm embrace, buried in entirely by the weight of him until it was the only thing the siren could focus on and all his senses enveloped in perfect contentedness. "Five minutes," he agreed then, still pretending that he wanted to leave and open presents right now, but doing nothing to make that happen, he was too busy nuzzling his nose into the side of Ryden's shoulder and pressing his lips against the rounded slope of muscle there. 

His arms encircled around him, hands clasping against a broad back clinging over the mountainous range of shoulder blades and was at home, breathing in the sensation of adoring and being adored. There was no better place for it. "Maybe you're right," he muttered, low voice muffled into a warm shoulder, "Maybe Mariah Carey knows what she's talking about."

RYDEN

Ryden hummed, lazy and happy for being allowed five whole blissful minutes of being in his beloved's arms. Even a second was more than he could ever ask for, silently grateful for his miracle person, an angel who was sent to a poor, tired sinner like him, to a beggar who never thought he would have a full meal again. And there was now a feast, so lavish and rich that if he were only ever allowed to just look and not touch a single morsel, take a single bite, he'd still be happy. But he was allowed to take up a plate and fill it up to his heart's content and his greedy dark heart could only plead with 'please sir, may I have some more?'

Because with Marsden, he was content with but a crumb and at the same time he always wanted more. His heart was full, but it was never enough. He loved but he could love more. He had but could have more…

Five more minutes. Two. One even. Give him more.

"Mmmhm. Listen to the high notes. They'll tell ya what t'do." He chuckled against the other's cheek, parting from the soft press of it against his own so he could kiss Mars' lips again and mutter a quiet 'Merry Christmas, moonbeam' officially through a languid smirk.

MARS

This was only their second Christmas together yet it still felt like the first, every second and every day felt like another first, another blissful first filled with heart flutters of excitement and soothing ease of adoration. He didn't think it was possible to be this in love and yet here it was right in front of him, beneath his hands, against his lips, filling his lungs. "Merry Christmas, starshine," he mumbled back against the smirking lips in which he kissed.

And then he was off again, wiggling his body beneath the weight of the werewolf like a worm trying to free itself. "Alright, up now, come on, let's go!"

RYDEN

His five minutes were apparently up! So up Ryden also went. "A'ight, a'ight, lessgo." He crawled off the wiggling eelman and off the bed, sauntering away to grab the pair of sweatpants dropped on the floor last night before bed time. With yawns accompanying, a terrifying sight to behold because they revealed sharp teeth a human jaw should not possibly have, he pulled the piece of clothing on and considered himself ready enough to venture out. No one but the other man and the baby was there to see the mess of his hair, that now sported perfect rings of curls falling over his forehead and into his eyes so he left those be, too comfortable to be grumpy about it. He meandered out of the bedroom, an idle hand scratching a buttcheek over the sweatpants. Usually he'd go for the coffee maker first but Mars was planning this day out so he was his to direct and instruct.

MARS

Mars rolled feet over head to get off the bed, landing on his feet on the other side and standing upright with both arms in the air when he stuck the landing successfully. Hem of his ugly sweater rose up from the action and he tugged it back down and did not immediately follow Ryden out of the bedroom, he dipped into the walk in closet to the side and emerged with an ugly sweater for Ryden, for he too must wear one! This was tossed at Ryden's direction when he left the bedroom, trusting the wolf would catch it with his preternatural reflexes, "Your uniform," Mars proclaimed happily. "Baby is awake?" He asked while passing the other man and giving a smack to his behind in the process. Maria Elena had gotten better at sleeping through the night and now rarely woke this early anymore unless she was sick or soiled herself in her sleep and he once again trusted that Ry would know if she was awake or still sleeping. "Let her stay asleep if she ain't awake," he commented as he pulled their stockings down from where they hung by a window since there was no fireplace.

RYDEN

Of course he’d caught the sweater, almost blindly and still yawning, with just a hand stretching out to pluck the flying piece of woolen clothing out of air. He stretched it out in front of him to have a look, sleepy face adopting a slightly disgusted expression. But then again Ryden often looked dramatically disgusted even if he wasn’t nearly so. It was an ugly sweater though, but he put it on nevertheless, incoherent mumble-grumbling as he pulled it over his head. He was still trapped by it when Mars passed him, making him grunt softly at the smack to his butt. “Asleep.” He announced, already aware of that. He’d be the first to know as soon as she wasn’t. Sweater properly on him, a little mismatched with the dark sweatpants he wore, Ryden shuffled over to the couch, sitting down on it with nothing better to do as Marsden buzzed about. He sprawled there, as lazy as a wolf could be.

MARS

Asleep, good, little thing that she was she didn't yet understand that holidays came around every year or what they even were until the day of when the exciting event was occuring. Her still sleeping meant they could have some moments of the holiday alone and moments alone were ever rare so cherished whenever available. Mars came around to the couch where Ryden reclined, ugly sweater was ugly but the man wearing it was remarkable in anything so despite the horrible pattern and imagry he still somehow managed to make it look good. "Will you make us breakfast when she wakes, my luv?" Marsden asked, shifting the inflection of his accent to a very poor attempt at a British one. He liked the way Ryden's voice rolled over syllables but could not match it despite his poor attempts at mimicry. The siren handed off a stocking to the wolf, stuffed with all sorts of yet unknown trinkets and snacks and random stuffers meant for him, then sat himself down onto the couch beside, legs touching, his fingers fiddled with a fuzzy cotton ball affixed to his own stocking equally filled. Tux laid as a warm loaf of darkness beneath the coffee table and peered out at the two men lazily with partly squinted yellow eyes. Tux had a stocking as well but he was a cat and would need help with it later. 

RYDEN

“Dat’s the hashtag plan, luv.” Responded Ryden, in a more natural and genuine British accent as he shifted his reclining position so he could reach over to wrap an arm around Marsden’s shoulder, always eager to maintain at least some physical contact, but a stocking was handed over to him and Ryden took it instead with a soft hum of surprise. “Ooh, wat’s dis? Dobby got a sock? Dobby’s a free elf now?” And for some reason, he said it in a deeper but still pretty impressive Gollum voice, even though the two fantasy creatures had nothing to do with each other. 

He dug into his stocking, rummaging through it and then shaking it out, letting things fall onto the couch or into his lap as he inspected them greedily, coming up with a Mars bar at some point and hissing out a joyful ‘yessss’ because that was his favorite and most expected candy before he got to the ‘I love you more’ keychain and raised it up to make it known that those were, “Lies!” and then he stuffed it into the pocket of his sweatpants. Then he got to the facepalming kitty and ‘heh-ed’, pointing at it and declaring “Ugly!” before that one went into his pocket too. He ‘pff-ed’ at the rubber duckie, taking a minute to play with its helicopter hat, childishly delighted that it actually spun. Then the ducky went into the pocket too. And then he pulled out a pair of socks from the stocking and whisper-shouted “Sock-ception!” before he curled his legs under himself and pulled them onto his bare feet. He’d noticed what was written on them only after they were on so he struggled for a second to lean over and maneuver his feet to take a better look, snorting out his amusement at the message they had on them. He had them on the other way around so he took them off and put each on the proper foot now.

MARS

A broad grin was an ever constant fixture on the siren’s face whenever Ryden was around him, the grin might occasionally be replaced by a different expression from time to time, adoration, longing, love, amusement, ecstasy, but a smile would always be quick to return, his default expression whenever around him. Ryden’s Gollum impression quoting Dobby’s lines made him chortle and smile brighter, “Yes, my precious,” he said in a Dobby impression quoting Gollum’s line. 

He watched Ryden as he opened his gifts, the expression on his features turning to adoration as the werewolf went through each one and seemed to find great enjoyment in them which pleased the siren immensely. “Ya got da big grand finale out on da balcony there,” he inclined his head toward the large windowed doors that led to the balcony of their apartment where a black motorized tricycle would be waiting complete with a wire basket attachment in the rear and decorated with a large bright red bow on the handlebars.

The siren also took to taking out his gifts, first one being a jar of little candy canes that he ooooh’d for and immediately twisted off the cap so he could fish one out and stick the straight end into his mouth, holding it between his teeth as he started sucking on the sweet treat. He was a chewer so he’d eventually just bite down on the hard candy and gnaw on it without breaking through it. When he got to the Bowie vinyl, Mars marveled at the art on the cover, humming in appreciation around the sweet candy cane but popped it out with one hand so he could talk easier, “Baby dis is sick,” he laughed and pointed to the album title, reading it out loud in part, “Spiders from Mars! Heh! Spiders from me! I’m da source of all da spiders,” and gave an evil cackle. “Dis is so awesome but baby, I don’t have something to play it on,” not yet realizing that he’d been gifted a record player as well.

RYDEN

Leave it up to the other man to very easily match him and pick up on Ryden’s more often than not dumb silly jokes, delighting in them more than anyone had ever had. It made Ry grin back at the other widely, a childish sort of joy on his face. It had been a while since he came to expect this childish wonder on a holiday such as this and the siren was the one who’d reawakened it. 

“On da balcony? Why’d ya hafta put it there?” He questioned, puzzled, though he had to admit that it was a good place to hide the gifts at, as long as they were weather-proof. Ryden himself had some trouble keeping his own grand finale gift hidden from the other, them living together making it quite difficult now when he needed it the most because surprising each other with gifts had become such a big, joyous thing in their lives ever since they got together. 

The wolf would get up in a minute to go check the balcony out, as soon as Mars was also done unpacking his own gifts. “Lucky fucker.” He muttered at the action of Mars sticking a candy cane into his mouth, teasingly jealous of the piece of candy. His grin grew wider as Bowie’s record got pulled out, apparently a ‘vintage’ edition, an older, rarer find and therefore more precious and pretty much collectionary. “Aaah, I was thinkin’ ‘bout dat too, my extraterrestrial Martian spider daddy.” He tapped the side of his head with a finger to point out how smort he was. “It was high time for us to git real fancy so why don’cha go check out the coat closet while I go check out the balcony, eh?” He suggested, raising a scarred eyebrow playfully.

MARS

"Check out da coat closet?" The siren immediately perked up with interest, rising from his seat on the couch with the kind of excited anticipation that looked odd coming from one of his age and size, no longer a child but right now he felt the excitement of one from the promise of an exciting find waiting for him concealed. "Okay!" But first, he was only a hop and a skip away from the werewolf and so the siren couldn't help himself but to close the distance between them, candy cane pulled out from his mouth now so he could give the wolf a peppermint scented kiss, lips warm and breath cool, sharing the taste of his sweet snack before he would leave and head toward the coat closet for his waiting surprise.

RYDEN

Ryden reveled in the small moment of attention he got, laced with sweet peppermint and sprinkled with the siren’s excitement, content but inwardly remorseful that it was over too soon. There was never such a thing as enough though sweet little loving moments of affection in the passing did have their charm. He watched the siren go to the coat closet with a huge grin splitting his lips, draping his arms somewhat smugly over the sofa’s backrest, knowing that the other man was very likely to love the gramophone that would fit perfectly into their apartment aesthetics, waiting wrapped up in Santa sharks gift paper for Mars to discover. Luckily their coat closet was just big enough to conceal it behind the rows of hanged jackets and winter stuff. Ry could already see it, all the moments when they would play cool shit on it and slow or silly dance to it, just the two of them, just like they tended to sometimes. Now they’ll have cool music played in style to go with it too. It was something Ryden always wanted to have with his partner once he ‘grew up’ and ‘settled down’. He considered it the peak of adult life lived well and slightly fancy, when the circumstances and finances allowed it. If they had something as nice as a gramophone to listen to good, quality music on, then life was good. Really good.

MARS

The hidden gift for him was easy enough to spot and Marsden exclaimed as he pulled it out, the wrapped package a little bulky looking and thanks to the hinting from Ryden, he could easily guess what it was but his surprise and elation remained at an all time high. He barely waited until he was back on the couch before he started tearing open the wrapping paper, pausing only briefly to point at one of the sharks pictured on it with another low chuckle that sounded very devious, "Looks like you, ya toothy fucker," he loved the little Santa's hats that the sharks were wearing. Mars never really admitted to being sentimental but he had a habit of collecting odd little trinkets that held for him a good memory and as he was removing the wrapping paper, he tore off a neat little square and set it onto the coffee table to keep for later, he'd tuck it nice and safe into the box he kept in his closet that was filled with receipts and other little sentimental things. Then he went on with opening the gift until the concealed item was revealed to be: "A gramophone! Aw sick! What?" 

Mars pushed off the rest of the paper and smoothed his hands across the surface of the box, painting his fingers across the image displayed and the lettering, "No way, this is awesome! Aw man, I can't wait to play music on this! Hell yeah, it's going to sound so smooooooth. Thank you baby!" Mars held the box close to his chest, fingers gripped around the corners, chin propped against the flat side as he gave the werewolf a special look of adoration.

RYDEN

“I was actually lookin’ for one dat looks like you but imagine, there ain’t many Christmas-themed eel wrappin’ papers. Dere was one wit snakes tho but ew, no.” Ryden shrugged like this was not at all an expected thing and it was perfectly reasonable to be salty about it. A gentle little smile tugged at his lips as Mars unwrapped the gift and even tore off a piece of the paper to keep, his smile never losing its sharpness but it got an added hint of rare gentlemen adoration to it nevertheless, reserved only for the other man. That smile turned absolutely head-splitting when the gift was finally revealed in full. 

“So fuckin’ smooth.” Ryden agreed, a firm believer that the best music sound came from a device such as the one they now had in their home. There was another unspoken reason to why Ryden had gifted Mars with this specific gift. Airpods were neat for sure and they seem to do wonders to drown out the voices going on in Marsden’s head but this Ryden thought to be another way to go about it, a more of a distracting, ambiental way that should also bring some joy to this action of using music and sound to treat the condition the siren battled with every day.

“Imma go check out yers now!” Ryden declared enthusiastically then, springing off the couch like a light bouncy ball to practically parade over to the balcony, ripping its door open with a flair. And then he froze as he beheld what was sitting outside. “The fuck is dat, babe!?” A stark difference to his tone between this being said in the face of an unpleasant surprise versus a pleasant one, this time obviously being the latter.

MARS

Mars was damn near giddy with glee as Ryden opened the balcony door and came face to face with the black body of the electric tricyle, bright red bow gleaming on the handlebars. "It's a tricycle!" Mars was quick to exclaim, he still held onto his gift, the bulky box of the gramophone when he rose to stand up, half stepping toward the balcony doors and then remembering to put his box down so did a half pirouette on his toes, bent only at the hip with one leg straight and other extended out behind him in a ballet move, setting the box down on the edge of the coffee table before he righted himself and light on the points of his sock clad feet, leapt to land with arms in a draping way against the werewolf's back. "It's electric, it goes fast, but not too fast, think it can get up to thirty miles an hour and it has a cargo cage fer things!" 

RYDEN

“Shit…” Ryden muttered, disbelieving, as he felt the weight of the siren drape over his broad back. “Hell yea, I love space for things!” He exclaimed back, turning slightly to take as best of a peek at the siren as he possibly could, considering Mars was now hanging off his back. “Holy fuck, a tricycle! Hah!” He cackled, stunned, needing a moment to process this because it was so completely unexpected and delightful. “How’d ya get it all the way up ‘ere!?” He questioned, puzzled, and without a word interlaced his fingers behind them both so Mars could easily sit on the makeshift seat made by his connected palms and be carried piggyback on Ryden's back all the way out onto the balcony with him to inspect this new surprise addition to their household. Because of course Ryden did not mind sharing everything with Mars. If things were purchased and gifted, of course it was for the entire family. Even the Batmobile, which Ryden jealously protected from everyone else except from Mars.

MARS

"I have my ways," Mars intoned in a suggestively low voice, the waggle of his brows practically audible in the way he spoke. He followed the unspoken action of lifting himself up so that he could sit his weight against Ryden's interlaced fingers in a makeshift seat behind his back, being now lifted piggyback style and he kicked his legs out in front, hooting with a laugh at being lifted taller than his own natural height now. He had to keep himself low, cheek nuzzling against the side of Ryden's to avoid knocking his head against the door frame as they would pass through it onto the balcony. "It's coool, eh?" Mars wrapped his arms loosely around Ryden's neck, "Ya like it, baby?"

RYDEN

He snorted at Marsden’s ‘mysterious ways’, shrinking carefully through the frame that led onto their balcony, mindful of the added height of their stacked bodies. “It’s so freakin’ cool, yo.” Ryden admitted earnestly, now near the vehicle and looking it up and down. “I’ve never driven one o’these b’fore. I fuckin’ love it!” If for nothing else then because it was something new and exciting to try out, aside from it being a gift from his beloved. “Shit, baby, ya always think of the sickest gifts. How’d ya do it? Is it magic?” He pressed the side of his face against Mars’, rubbing his cheek somewhat roughly against his, the sandpapery texture of his five o'clock shadow already in need of a shave. He then glanced back at the balcony door, trying to figure out how Mars got the thing through it. He had to have pushed it through sideways. It was an action that fascinated Ryden almost as equally as the tricycle itself did. 

Then, an idea struck him and he immediately rushed to share it with the other man. “Oiii, tadpole! I can go grocery shoppin’ in this one! It’ll be super convenient!” Even though their usual go-to shop was literally across the street, but hey, there were also times when they visited the farmer’s market for some even fresher produce, Ryden always insisting on trying to eat as healthy as possible if for nothing else, then for the baby’s sake. The prospect of this colored Ryden’s tone of voice with noticeable anticipation, the man almost wishing they needed something for the fridge today, asap, so that he could go run this errand on his new tricycle.

MARS

Mars beamed, the edges of his smile felt around the rounded slope of his high cheeks nuzzled up against the side of Ryden's face, exuberant with love and feeding off the excitement of this gift like a hungry gremlin. It brought him such joy that made his heart and chest lighten. "Yeah! You totally can! Cuz cargo cart!" And as he confirmed it, he extended out a hand to point though it was entirely unnecessary to do so. "Cargo cart for things! Can mebbe even put da Jelly Baby in da cart and go zooming!" The imagery that evoked of his two favorite people zooming around on the electric tricycle even made him wish for it to happen now, but the little one was still sleeping as far as he knew and her precious sleep must not be disturbed. Besides, there was still one more thing he wanted to give to Ryden. 

The siren rubbed his face affectionately against Ry's, not minding the sand papery feeling of growing in coarse stubble as his lips landed against his cheek multiple times for numerous kisses, each one a silent declaration of love. "Got one more thing for ya, baby."

RYDEN

"Ooooh, yeaaaah!" Ry hissed happily, like zooming around with the Jelly Bebe in the tricycle cargo cart was such a big, glorious mischief that he had to lower his voice when talking about, lest someone else overhears and spoils their fun plans. He bent his knees a little, giving Mars a little bounce, request for the siren to step off him so Ryden could free his hands and poke and touch his gift, antsy machanic and vehicle enthusiast fingers itching. But he didn't mind stalling it for the sake of sweet kisses, chuckling as they landed one after another.

"Ya got more? Shit, I only got ya a couple and ya got me, loike, a trillion! Wha' is it?" He asked, genuinely surprised that this was not the end of it.

MARS

Laughter trickled from his lips at being bounced and did adjust his weight so that he could step down from Ryden's back, giving the man ample time and room to explore his gift. "No spoilers," the siren tutted with a click of his tongue, "You'll get it after." Inwardly, he felt anxious about it, the edges of his stomach seemed to sour with anticipation but he could wait and he would force himself to, for now more than happy to watch his beloved explore the gift of the electric tricycle. 

He crossed his arms over his chest, not out of impatience but simply because it was cold outside and while he was wearing the thick silly holiday sweater and unmatching plaid trousers, the wind chill was seeping in between the woven fabric and he tried to conceal that the weather was affecting him, turning the point of his nose bright red with every exhale of wispy air. "Mebbe can take Jelly Baby to da park on it later?" Marsden suggested, "'Er da Christmas market if it's still open."

RYDEN

"I got aaaaall day for it." Ryden was fine with no spoilers, not minding the wait because they indeed did have all the day for it with the exception of a part of the evening, when they would have to make a brief apoearance at the Den and the Christmas party it hosted every year for the pack. Otherwise, their schedule was all dedicated to their family time. Without Mars on him, Ry aporoached the tricycle, looking it this way and that, up and down, over and under and even sat on it as best as their small balcony would allow, getting the feel of how he fit on it. As he gripped the handle bars, he gave the siren a big goofy grin.

"Can you fit on it too, though." He asked at that suggestion as he turned around to check just how much room was left behind him. The cold was apparenlty not bothering Ryden even a bit, and his every exhale was like a lungful of cigarette smoke, full of steaming hot air, even as he spoke it seeped from between his lips. Legitimately, if he rubbed his hands together to generate more heat, even his palms would fog up the air around them a little.

MARS

"I'll fit," the siren felt confident of that even before trying. He was slim and he was flexible and he had a similar sort of stubbornness that Ryden held, whereby even if he didn't actually fit he would find a way to make himself fit. 

So the siren approached the tricycle Ryden sat upon and with one hand on the werewolf's shoulder for stability, he lifted his leg up and swung it over the back of the tricycle, straddling it and now looked on either side, here and there for a place to put his feet so they wouldn't be on the ground. There was a lot of metal rods, connective fixtures that made up the body of the tricycle and Mars set his feet on a place that he felt wouldn't get in the way of Ryden's on the pedals (for it was electric but still had manual pedals when it was out of juice) and sat his bottom on the front railing of the cargo cart since there was no room for him on the seat. "There!" The siren exclaimed, wrapping his arms around the werewolf's middle happily stealing some of his extra body heat in the process. "I fits!" It was uncomfortable but he fit. 

RYDEN

"We should go, then!" Ryden delivered his approval of that plan with that same goofy grin, trusting Mars blindly on that confirmation that he would fit. And as the siren tried it out, Ry sucked his stomach in, pressing himself forward as much as possible to accomodate. "Aw hell yeah!" He exclaimed triumphantly as they seem to have managed it. No vehicle was a good vehicle if it couldn't fit his whole world on it and that included the baby and Mars. Even Princess will one day be able to host the Jelly Baby on its  back. Ryden was already determined to leave her as part of Maria Elena's heirloom one day.

"Gotta figure out a way t'make it more cozy." He muttered as he pondered, trying to look around but it was difficult with Mars gluing himself to his back again, though Ryden did not complain about it. A casual glance over the balcony railing caught one of their neighbours in the building next to theirs on the window, staring, wondering for who knows what time what the hell were these two doing. It all started back when they've put two large skeleton men out for Halloween and arranged them in not so vaguely nsfw poses for shits and giggles. Now the neigbour seemed to have found them more interesting than the news channel.

"Merry Crysler!" Ryden shouted over with a little wave, his voice carrying, the neighbour in question giving an awkward wave back before slinking away. Like this had not just happened, Ryden tilted his head to give the edge of Mars' jaw a sloppy kiss. "Ya cold, my spicy cocktail shrimp? Let's git'cha inside b're ya turn into a frozen fish stick." 

MARS

As Ry shouted a Christmas greeting to their nosy neighbor, Mars did the same, jubilantly waving, "Merry Crisis!" His eyes closed happily when he felt Ryden press a kiss to the side of his jaw, he leaned into it, perfectly content despite the cold. "I'm all a shiverin'," and he cartoonishly chattered his teeth together in emphasis of the cold. "Carry me inside, Mr. Kringle Klaus," and Mars held onto Ryden's back tighter in anticipation of being lifted up once again. "Then special extra present," he bonked the side of his head lovingly against the side of Ry's.

RYDEN

"Yea yea, ya buy me things t'ride, and ya ride me." He grumbled happily, because although grumble-sounding, it was a happy grumble, and he promptly slipped his hands around Mars' thighs, lifting him up as he dismounted the tricycle carefully. "I must've been a really good boy dis year, so many presents." He lead them inside, ducking under the obstacle of a very regular and therefore too low of a doorframe in this particular situation. He walked over to their couch, plopping them both unceremonoisly onto it.

MARS

"Mhm, yeah I do," the siren returned with a sensual squeeze of his legs around Ryden's middle, "And yes you have been a good boy, real good," he nipped playfully at an earlobe, tongue meeting metal from a piercing of which there were many. They were soon deposited back inside where it was considerably warmer and once plopped onto the couch, the siren unwrapped himself from Ryden's back and rose to stand. "Stay," he said to the wolf, "I gotta get it."

He glanced back at Ryden with a full toothed smile, holding up a hand in a silent gesture to give him a second as he crossed the living room and disappeared into the bedroom. He would emerge some short moments later holding a thin red flat box about the size of a standard notebook, decorated simply with a silver bow in the direct center. This he handed to Ryden and then reclaimed his spot on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, ankle atop a knee and an elbow perched at the side of his bent knee so he could rest his chin in the middle of his palm, fingers caging up over his mouth, cool touch of his fingerprints against his lower lip, a position he often took when he felt nervous. 

His smile now gone, lips beneath the cage of his fingers a line pressed flat while his gaze on the werewolf turned to cold liquid, watching with a soft and careful attentiveness like a slowly moving stream lapping gently against a riverbank; even this was an act of devotion.

The red box with the silver bow would be easily opened, no tape or tied ribbon to keep it shut, only a lid which needed to be pulled off from the top and revealing within very simply a few stacks of white paper. Stacks of white paper lined with thin streaks of formal legal writing and the very top of the page in clearly printed thick bold lettering it would say: Consent to Adoption. Reading through the top page would say: I certify that I, Marsden Augustus Lee, am the birth father of Maria Elena Lee and I certify that I am consenting to the adoption of the child by the above-named Petitioner, Ryden Douglas Bolt. The following page behind it looked similar except this page was titled differently and would say: Petition for Stepparent Adoption. 

RYDEN 

The squeeze of slim but strong thighs around his waist and the tongue against one of the studs in his ear made Ryden melt into the cushions for a moment as soon as he sat down, needing a second to recover. "Wow, broke my over thirty years long streak o'bein' nothin' but bad. Feels weird." He joked, sitting up a little straighter as Mars instructed him to stay while he went off to get the last part of his Christmas gift. When the siren glanced back, Ryden returned the grin, suddenly feeling giddy because it felt like this one would be a special one, far more special than the tricycle.

Ryden accepted the notebook-like box, already clueless as to what this might package. Suddenly everything adopted a much more serious vibe, at least that's what it felt like to Ryden. It made him clear his throat as careful fingers pried the thin box open.

Surprisingly, the box held nothing but a neat stack of papers and Ryden leaned over it while holding it all with both hands. He always took a little longer than an average literate person to read things through, his dyslexia a bit of an obstacle, but never enough to truly impede him when he put his mind to it. His first thought was adoption of another furry friend like Ugly and Tux, which would be great but what this was actually for was infinitely better.

Disbelief wrecked him as he read the first few lines on the front page over and over again, for minutes now, struggling to process not because he wasn't reading it right but because this was well beyond his sweetest, wildest dreams.

After reading it in silence for who knows which time, he wasn't counting, Ryden crumbled. A hand came up to cover his eyes, head hanging, corners of his lips tilting downwards. He stayed that way, motionless for a long time.

MARS 

Mars observed the werewolf in this careful way for a long while, neither moving nor saying anything, letting the man take his time to read and understand what the legal documents were saying. It was a request, a confirmation, a giving of something that was already his but making it officially known not only to themselves within the private chambers of their happy little ecosystem but to the rest of the world and beyond that they were a family. Maria Elena was Ry's just as much as she was Mars'. They shared in every achievement of hers, her first steps, her first words, the emotions that overcame the siren whenever he had to buy bigger clothes for her, the excitement that came at buying a new toy, teaching her about the world as it happened one thing at a time, like the coldness of rain and snow and the heat of the sun and scratch of sand. They were raising her together as their own and he wouldn't have it any other way. 

When Ryden's hand came up to cover his eyes, the first real sign of movement in a long while of silent reading, the siren began to shift too, slowly he moved himself closer to the werewolf and already his chest began to tighten as his heart rushed with a swell of emotions that made his vision blurry. He settled against Ryden's side, an arm wrapped around a broad back in a warm half embrace, saying nothing but the beating of his heart could convey.

RYDEN 

Upon feeling the siren stir next to him, the downward pull of the corners of Ryden's mouth deepened, the expression behind the covering hand distorting more. And when an arm was wrapped around his shoulders, it seem to trigger him off and they began to shake, at first just lightly trembling but very soon they rattled with noticeable motion although the man had not produced any crying sounds yet.

Then he pulled his hand off and it was wet with tears, eyes which he'd hid so far long overflowing. It wasn't the first time Mars had seen those stormy greys become almost crystal light with moisture but at best, Ryden only produced a small sniffle from the pent up pressure in his sinuses and a redness around the corners of his eyes. Rarely if ever there was a tear or two actually rolling down his cheeks. Now they were pouring down though, one after another, racing to catch up and they shook Ryden's entire upper frame with an earthquake of emotions.

He glanced between the papers in his hand and the siren and that set him even worse off and his head drooped so low it was almost between his knees now. He cried freely now, like he hadn't cried in years, which was true.

MARS 

There was perhaps one other occasion that Mars recalled seeing Ryden emotional but it was nothing like this. Nothing could have prepared the siren for this. Not even as he might have anticipated some emotional response from the werewolf. He'd been able to feel the trembling muscles as emotions not often felt rattled around within the other man, had seen the downturned corners of his mouth pulled into the deepest frown the siren had ever seen but when the wolf lifted his face to his and Mars could see the tears there, not just a light trace of dampness or a singular tear that dared to escape past the thick canopy of dark lashes. These were tears, these were solid, vicious tears that poured from the wolf's eyes and down his face and Marsden felt momentarily stunned in the face of such intense emotion burdened in the features of a man who never before displayed them. 

It was a silent dawning, the gentle caresses of the first rays of light from the sun slowly casting out the darkness of the night to warm the earth as Marsden leaned his head against the side of Ryden's shoulder and held the man sundered by earthquaking emotions. It brought forth his own tears more rapidly, free falling over the crest of water logged eyes. "I love you," came his voice in a muted mumble of thick emotions, "so much, baby. I love you. She loves you. Our baby," and as he said it his voice caught in half a sob.

RYDEN 

Ry had to put the adoption papers down onto his lap, lest his trembling hand crumples the papers he held. It enabled him to shove a fist against his mouth, biting down on the knuckles to prevent himself from letting out an involuntary sound that might just be loud enough to wake the baby. Their baby. Now officially too, in written, made public as soon as Ryden signs it all. So he shook there like a leaf in the wind, waterworks pouring in complete silence aside from an occasional sniffle here and there.

And when Marsden spoke, Ryden shut his eyes tightly, this squeezing out another stream of salty tears, and he turned around carefully, wrapping his arms around the other man in a tight embrace, nodding mutely but vigorously at his words. "Yeah... yeah..." He managed to croak out after a couple of tries, wanting to say so much right now but not being capable of it.

MARS

Mars fully embraced Ryden now, turning his body into him with arms full circle around him, hands over the top of his shoulder and the back of the man's head where the short and sharp hairs tickled his palm. He'd honestly been partly nervous, hence his somber expression when he'd first handed Ryden the gift box with the legal documents within, worried that for some reason Ry would not want this. It was a relief that he did and the emotional response served to swell his overflowing heart with tidal waves of adoration. The siren turned his head slightly, angling so that his lips could plant against the side of Ryden's wet cheek, tasting his tears salty with every kiss.

RYDEN 

He hugged back, as tight as Marsden's more fragile physique than his own would allow, never wanting to let go of this man who had given him everything a person could hope for, even more than a person like Ryden could ever wish to even glimpse let alone tentatively claim as his own. Marsden had given him so much, so easily, so willingly and lovingly, all the while adamantly claiming that Ry deserved it, even through Ry's own crippling self doubt and denial. He made him happy, so deeply profoundly happy despite it all and even left him with an unspoken promise that there would never be the end of it. And perhaps this was the exact moment when Ry, for the first time very consciously decided in the sob-shaken space of his muddled mind that one day, this will be the man he would marry. That one day, just like Marsden had officially given him the sacred duty of being Maria Elena's parent along with him, he would officially proclaim before the entire world that since the day they've met and then forevermore, he would dedicate his every minute of every hour of every day to this man and their mutual happiness. It wasn't said but it was decided, firmly taking as concrete of a form as a thought could, that he would love this beautiful soul back forever. It was a decision Ryden had unconsciously made a long while ago but now, it was so solidified that not even the end of all reality would change it. 

So Ryden hugged Marsden and cried silently some more, compensating for all the years he hadn't let his emotions overtake him and let loose like this, for all the years he'd kept his eyes dry for unless it was for chopping onions. And when he finally began to pull slightly away, it was to rub his face dry awkwardly within still tight confines of Mars' arms, wishing to stay there but knowing that he couldn't and that he should eventually let go. "I love you so much, baby. Thank you. Thank you..." That was all he could think of saying, nose plugged and making words come out muffled but nonetheless true.

MARS

Mars clung to the man he held, desperate to crack open his ribs and squeeze the other man within them but since he could not he did the next best thing which was to return the bone crushing hug with his own, all the strength that he had in him spent on keeping them together. The shake of his head was a stiff movement, "Don't," he had his own sniffles against the obstructive emotions in his throat, "Don't thank me. She's yours. She's been yours for so long, even before this," there was more there too, a hidden we've been yours for so long. This wasn't even really a gift, not one that he could really give to the other man, more so a declaration, a promise and even Marsden felt this at the very root of his soul, that it would be him and Ryden forever, until the end of time, until the end of everything.

RYDEN

"No, I gotta thank ya, because... because..." He could not explain it, he wasn't articulate enough, literate enough or smart enough to do it, but he felt it so deeply. It was not gratitude, not exactly, definitely not any feeling or indebtedness or alike. What they had was so incredibly rare, so damn precious, a thing Ryden never thought he could achieve, a dream he felt he was too undeserving of and Marsden simply made it happen. He took him in, as a friend, as a confidant, as a lover, gave him a home, gave him a family and a place so perfectly accepting and loving to belong to. Gratefulness was an inadequate word to describe what Ryden felt for being presented with all this and being given with utmost trust something Marsden found more precious than life itself was the culmination of this life-altering thing they've been cultivating since the day they've met.

Ryden could not word it, but he felt it oh so deeply.

He rubbed furiously at his face, eyes red and bloodshot and a migraine creeping in, a consequence of a strong emotional outburst Ryden wasn't at all used to, at least not to one of this kind. "Where do I gotta sign? I wanna sign it right now. Ya got a pen?"

MARS

"I know. I love you," he kissed softly against any part of the werewolf he could reach, the side of his damp cheek, the line of his jaw. The siren didn't want the thanks but he understood it, the reason for expressing it, it was the same emotion he felt when even after every horrible thing he'd revealed of himself to Ryden the man hadn't pushed him aside, hadn't left, hadn't said this was too much to deal with, hadn't even judged him or questioned him and only accepted him wholeheartedly as he was. It meant the world to him, when they'd been in that tub with absolutely nothing between them and Ryden had only taken him into his arms and loved him instead. So Mars kissed him tenderly, fiercely wishing he could do more for the man who had already done everything. 

He smiled, lips against a stubbled jaw that needed it's daily shave and sniffled as he nodded, "Yeah, yeah I'll get a pen," and he would get up to do that once they untangled from each other.

RYDEN 

"Yeah, yeah... a pen. So I can sign." Ryden nodded decisively but even as he requested this, his tear-stained hands went up and cupped Mars face, now calm enough to deliver his own rainfall of kisses all over the siren's face. He could not explain it with words but he could show it. "We're a fam, luv. Triple threat, the three musketeers. We're a family, baby." His hoarse voice said in between sloppy wet kisses he planted all over Mars' face, letting him leave only after he made sure not a single inch of skin on it was left unkissed.

MARS

Laughter started to fall from the siren's mouth in between the raining kisses that landed on him, he tried to catch every one with his lips but missed many in the war of affection and so his whole face was graced with it and grew warm. "We're a family," he confirmed, flat of his forehead pressing against Ry's while his striking ocean blue eyes met the raining steel of Ryden’s and they each became like a cyclops and even two monsters like them could love each other. "You, me and Jelly Baby," the tip of his nose tenderly caressed the bridge of his, "I love you," he kissed the werewolf’s cupid bow, "Pen," he left the wolf with one more kiss before he finally rose up to perform this task. A pen was quick to find, one amid a collection of others at the kitchen counter next to some mail and a notepad used to jot down items for purchasing or other such notes or for the siren’s penchant for doodles so even the grocery list was decorated with random sketches. 

Mars returned and held the pen out for Ry like it was made of gold and a very prominent item that was now being passed over to him. It was true for this pen, this signature would seal the deal. This was the moment and then all the was left would be to submit the documents with the city and it'd be official. Their family confirmed and forged but it would start here with this pen.

RYDEN 

Ryden sighed deeply as their foreheads connected, a sound of such heartfelt relief that his entire being became light and liberated. Everything he had ever wanted was today confirmed with what Marsden was asking of him - they were a family, he had a family, Maria Elena was his daughter too and he loved and was loved. It was confirmed, accepted, welcomed and wanted, there was no more room for any doubt. Mars left him with none, not even a hair's breadth. And oh how he loved the other man for it.

Mars departed to get the pen ans Ry took a moment to rub his burning face with his palms, it was wet and scalding and puffy now, and his headache was getting worse but who the fuck cared about any of that.

He took the presented pen and fumbled through the papers, finding the right lines to note down his initials on. Settling the stack upon his thigh, he found his hand trembling more the closer the pen tip got and he huffed out a cleansing breath, giving his clammy forehead a quick wipe with the back of his wrist. Then he silently extended his other hand, palm upwards, asking for Mars' hand to hold while he did this. 

MARS

The siren was quick to take hold of Ryden's hand once offered, his fingers easily and comfortably slotting between to find the spaces meant for him. Mars liked to pay special attention to his hand at times and today, right now would be no different. He turned the hand over once they were entwined and held his lips tenderly against the rocky terrain of battered knuckles that had lived a crueler life than this one. 

This was an exhilarating moment and he marveled at the way his stomach started to flip inwardly and he too made his own quiet promise that felt definite and final, that he would love this man forever, until he took his last breath he would spend it all on his happiness, for him, he would do everything. "And now good morrow to our waking souls," the siren recited lowly, his words caressing their breath over the werewolf’s hand still held against his lips, "which watch not one another out of fear, for love, all love of other sights control, and make one small room an everywhere."

RYDEN 

The moment Ryden felt the familiar shape of Mars' palm against his, and it was a shape Ryden would remember forever, whether he were blind in the dark or numb without any feeling in his fingertips, he felt instantly empowered, like he could scale impossible mountains, climb tallest walls, reach for the sky... As an extra boost, Mars reciting poetry even further emboldened the werewolf and there was nothing in this world that would ever not be okay, as long as he had Mars by his side holding his hand.

The ink was left on the paper, one sheet signed after another in order, the handwriting shaky and crooked because his fingers still trembled slighty, but there undeniably, sealing this. Ryden sighed out when the final paper was signed and looked back at the siren with a wide, toothy grin, which seemed out of place below red-rimmed, tear-wet eyes yet also perfectly belonging there. It was done, and nothing on heaven or earth would be able to reverse it in Ryden's mind. Whatever the future may hold, they will stay a family, the two will remain as his most important people, two precious treasures to cherish and love forever.

MARS 

The grin now directed at the siren was unlike anything he'd ever seen on the werewolf's features before, broad and full of teeth, edges tight and exuding full joy while his eyes haloed with dampness and punctuated by adoration gleamed with platinum radiance. There were no precious metals more precious than the silver of those eyes and they were directed at him. It made the siren suddenly overcome and he couldn't stop the flow of movement now, he was a tidal wave, throwing his arms around the werewolf, encircling his neck with waves of kisses landing against the angular cliffside of the werewolf's jaw and tumbling down his neck, he blew bursts of air out against ever warm skin sprayed with love and exclaimed with absolute exuberance, "Let's go wake up our baby." What care he once had for her precious sleep cycle was now gone entirely. This was a moment worth celebrating together. "It's Christmas mornin'!" He exalted as he wiped any lingering traces of dampness from Ryden's face that he might have missed, as if to say they should cry no more and there was a life yet still to be living. "Merry Chrysler, my love, my dearest starshine," each declaration met with a nuzzling of his face against his.

RYDEN

His arms readily accepted the siren's landing between them, this throw of arms around his neck and yet another onslaught of affection and kisses sending Ry into a fit of laughter, impossible to keep at a low volume. It still held that trembling nervousness of too much adrenaline and emotion coursing through him like a swift river, but it was mostly pure, undiluted joy that set him off.

"A'ight." He agreed easily, curled fingers running through Mars' hair and making his Santa hat slide off, but he needed to bury his fingers in there, give the black dyed strands a possessive grip where they were getting longer at the back of Mars' head. "Merry Crisis, moonbeam." He nuzzled back, rubbing his nose against the other's.

@wolfontheloose

[rangerslayer-97]

Lament

A short little drabble/one-shot of Master Orgus' thoughts watching his former student lose her way.

Sorry for the angst. It's not your fault, Orgus, the fault is in Violcrik herself.

~~~~~

Master Orgus Din watches in lament. Lament. It's a funny term he has become acquainted once more. He lamented for the loss of his former student Bengal Morr. The first time he thought his hope would be renewed came in the form of a bright, young Initiate known as Violcrik.

Orgus read many things about her, was present during the Council meetings when her previous Masters would report to them. He was aware of her past, one he wouldn't wish on anyone. Many were afraid of her passion, her eagerness for the battlefield that matched her prowess in lightsaber combat. Violcrik was a force to be reckoned with, she fought with the ferocity of a hardened warrior and the thrill of a hunter. Her fighting style was like a Siren, beautiful at a distance, but deadly when too near. Master Kaeden described her to be dangerous. Other Masters expressed she was not ready and that there is a wildness to her, a fire in her heart that must be tempered. She walked the path of Light, the path of Ashla, yet she fights with a Darkness in her heart. Her fighting style almost sings the song of Bogan.

Ever since his death at the hands of his rival, Darth Angral, he watched Violcrik tap into the Dark Side more and more. She did things no Jedi would ever stoop to. He grimaced witnessing his former student lie to Doc, and ruthlessly slaughtered the injured Imperials. It broke his heart watching Kira disagree with her Master’s actions, yet she was ignored and couldn’t do anything but watch as the Imperial soldiers cried as they were slain. He saw Kira could do nothing but shut her eyes and look away. That action caused a small rift between the two. As time moved forward, his student's actions became more questionable. He worried that she was falling, the claws of the Dark Side attempting to drag her down. On many occasions, her blue eyes turned to a horrific sulphuric yellow, otherwise turning deep orange; like that of the surface of a star or the sun. So many had fallen to her blade, some were needless executions, some out of anger.

Orgus knew the darkness in her heart was slowly consuming her, and Violcrik was doing nothing to fight it. Her battle against the Sith Emperor was a test of whether she will stay true to her morals as a Jedi or kill him. He watched as she chose kill him by impaling the Emperor on a sharp ceiling pillar. He read her mind, claimed that it was for Kira. The Jedi Master was well aware of his student's attachments. The Order warned against attachments, forbid them in a way. Orgus believed in a different interpretation, Jedi can form attachments, but you cannot possess the people as attachments or a property. A lesson he wished to have time to teach Violcrik, he knows she cannot accept that death of those she cares about is an inevitable fate. He can watch Violcrik protect all those she loves with her lightsabre, but she cannot fight death itself. However, there is no death, there is only the Force.

When his student was captured by the Eternal Empire with Darth Marr at her side, Braga and Sedoru held him back as he shouted at Violcrik to not kneel before Valkorion. All Jaric did was turn away and shake his head in disgust, muttering how right he was about the Jedi Guardian. After she was placed in carbonite by Arcann, Orgus attempted to enter her mindscape, to talk sense into his former Padawan. To make her see the error of her ways, but he couldn't. Valkorion was also sharing her mindscape and somehow blocked every attempt he made to reach Violcrik. He could do nothing but watch as the five years passed, Violcrik slipped towards Valkorion's lies and became entangled in his strings. The puppet and the puppeteer.

The Jedi Master watched the carnage and death his student inflicted. So many innocent civilians not deserving of Violcrik's anger, allies who wronged her such as Koth, the betrayals she suffered fuelled her hated. Saresh greatly fractured her belief in the Republic. Theron's false betrayal and his attempted assassination act completely shattered his student's trust in the Republic. Satele Shan's son was lucky to live, only exiled from Odessen, when his father Supreme Commander Jace Malcom died on Iokath. Jaric and Braga practically yelled at him when Violcrik tried to kill the former Grand Master.

His former Padawan had gone too far, she had slipped into the claws of the Dark Side. Perhaps the Dark Side has her in its grip for a long time and they chose not to do anything about it, hoping she would learn to confront it and let it go. Violcrik after all, refused to let go of the Dark well after being under Vitiate's influence, claiming that power was hers to draw on. Then Orgus wept hearing Violcrik align herself with the Sith Empire, the faction she once hated. Orgus knew what pushed her, the betrayals, Saresh and Theron's actions, all shattered her faith in the Republic. He witnessed her confide with Sith Lord Lana Beniko, her Alliance advisor of her crumbling faith in the Republic and how she used to feel like an outcast in the Jedi Order. How they doubted and questioned her. Master Orgus could feel nothing but guilt and lament. He felt at fault, they pushed her, they pushed her to change sides. He figured Violcrik hoped to find her place in the Empire, a place she couldn't fit in the Republic.

Now he has watched the destruction and sabotage she has caused. A saboteur under the Republic's nose. Their very own Hero of Tython and Hero of the Republic. He has failed his student. Orgus feels nothing left but guilt in his heart. He laments.

Laments.

[sanders1665]

On the shore of the melodious lake, the singer tributes songs of lament, to the girl who plays violin, ghosts of Romanian gypsies came to dance and sing, when she was born on the Fall equinox, and an ancient folk song was sung into life, Pandora bequeathed the last gift in her treasure box, and Atlas sighed with relief, forgotten sunsets rose and burned the poets who neglected them, and the sirens of the waters sang of the sailors demise, in the dense forest guarding the mountain, a candle flickers in my final resting place, while a Bengal tiger sleeps at my door, and a wise owl keeps watch, know this, I will wait a hundred eternity's for you to play your song.

[portvalehq]

the moon was always your true calling; always had been, always would be. though you have belief in the goddess, you wonder if it’s really the sky that gives you all life. for at least a hundred years, you’ve watched it, studied the way it affects the tide & the storms, the affects moon cycles have on your sea… though you have a home in a mermaid court, you are often called to faraway oceans for your guidance. the heavens speak to you, and you have given your life to serve mermaids all over assyria with the wisdom you have gleaned from the lunar power above.

MAYA CHAN ● MOONSTONE ● MERMAID

age & birthdate: 150, July 20 1872

birthplace: Indian Ocean (Bay of Bengal)

length of time in port vale: One month, since the turning of the year

occupation: writer

faceclaim: kristen kreuk

THE OCEAN

While many of her kind took to delving into the depths of the oceans or exploring the far reaches of the various seas, Maya Chan looked above the waves for answers.  The moon pulled to her as it did to the tides and she sought answers in the stars. Cycling above them in an apparently eternal rhythm, the heavens possessed a structure hidden within their mysteries.  As she began to understand the structure, she saw how it affected her own world . . . and began to read the signs and warnings written in them. Curious to see how the power extended between the heavens and the oceans, Maya began to travel – first near her home in the Indian Ocean, then out and beyond to various other seas.

With her knowledge and ability to read the skies, all of the courts seemed willing to listen to her, though she could never quite determine whether or not they listened to her. Most of their attention focused on their kingdoms or the threat of the Sirens. It worried Maya – shadows darkened the sky and whispered things that worried her.  She couldn’t quite make out the warnings, but she’d hoped to gain wisdom from the others.

Sighing in disappointment when no one else seemed to hear what she heard, she still did her best to pass along what she knew.  She would continue to observe and study and learn.  When the war finally ended and peace came, her words carried less weight than ever as no one wanted to hear of trouble.

Maya did her best to spend time in every ocean as each of them possessed their own stars.  Still, she found her greatest interest stayed with the moon – new, waxing, full, waning.  During that time, she met many different Mermaids, and even a Hippocampus who journeyed with her for a short time and a Siren that proved willing to talk to her at least once.  Her journeys brought her into contact with Humans as well . . . in a way.  They never saw her, but spending time near the ships and harbors, she learned several different languages.

Then the darkness came.

Whispers and rumors of death and destruction swirled through the various realms.  As it grew and expanded, Maya retreated to the land. She found the large cities confusing and overwhelming, so she turned to small villages and little enclaves where a visitor could pass through without too much notice as long as they didn’t disrupt daily life.

ON LAND

Maya didn’t start out in Port Vale.  She explored various other places, always traveling and exploring, sending back reports on the world beyond the oceans.  During that time, she discovered a gift for the written word and published a dark fantasy novel centered on the water and oceans she loved. It became an unexpected best-seller.  Readers began to clamor to meet the author – something Maya didn’t want to do. Not only did she not like the idea of being the center of attention, but she couldn’t risk anyone discovering her secret.

Perhaps she should have returned to the ocean, but the desire to write proved too strong.  It kept her on land, with short visits back into the ocean as demanded by her nature.  She retreated, using secretive ways to keep in contact with her agent, and looked for somewhere she could live in quiet retreat.

Having only been in Port Vale for a month, Maya still didn’t have a large circle of friends. Her introverted personality and isolating career just didn’t give her the chance to meet many people. It didn’t help that people couldn’t quite decide where she stood on the tension between Mermaids and Sirens. Maya doesn’t believe that all Sirens should be painted with the same derisive brush anymore than she believes all Mermaids should be trusted without question. It puts a distance between herself and her own people – and its not like the Sirens would have any reason to accept her either.

So, she’d found herself with more in common with the Hippocampi and Humans of Port Vale, making connections with various people as she explored the island and all the nooks and crannies. They’ve reinforced her belief that peace between people must be possible in some way. Most days, she can be found in her study, working on her new book. Otherwise, she’s out exploring and bringing home any odd, unique, or fascinating trinkets she finds.  Her explorations will take her all over and around the island, as well as the waters around it.

With the news of the darkness growing, she’s realized that her quiet life is likely to be interrupted in the worst possible way.

PERSONALITY

Introverted, curious, and romantically clueless, Maya can come across as distant and inattentive. Part of her mind is usually focused on something other than the situation right in front of her. Perhaps she’s thinking about a troublesome scene in her book, or she might be trying to put clues together about the growing darkness. Whatever it is, it means that she must concentrate in order to be completely present in a conversation or interaction with other people. She enjoys learning from others, but she doesn’t like being dependent on them. Despite this, Maya is willing to listen if someone needs to talk, especially a friend, child, or someone in

CONNECTIONS

MERCURY: typically it was your fellow mermaids, in courts both your own and beyond, to call on your celestial guidance - but there was once, a long time ago, that you found a way to help a siren, too. the divide between siren and mermaid was not intended; this, you fully believe. you see no reason for your kind to hate them, or vice versa. you talked with her for hours as exhaustion from a long journey between courts made you wary, and you’ve been grateful ever since for the chance to get to know a siren. even if only for an evening.

CITRINE: under her rule, the indian ocean has thrived; like you, others flock for guidance, and you find a sort of appeal to their beliefs. you see how she armors with the support of ancient beings, the hippocampi, and take on the weak to mentor. you think, if anyone in assyria were to hold your highest respect, it would be she. now on land, perhaps you can combine your unique sets of belief and find the answers you seek together. maybe there is more to faith than the Goddess or the moon - you just need to find it, and together, perhaps you’d be unstoppable.

SANDBAR; In some ways, their bar can feel like the perfect place be creative; other times it's just a pleasant distraction.  You've visited enough times to be noticed, and there's a melancholy about them that you feel a surprising connection to.  An instinct to watch out for them, perhaps even keep them safe; but you don't want to overstep your bounds.  Instead, you decide to get to know them - perhaps they'll allow you into their life as much as they quietly welcome you into their bar.