#ready zet go

[thegreatweb-man]

Zet vs spez

[trash-llama]

Everything is ready for Pillow one and only on-screen birthday party. Clo is going through a mood swing, possibly from once again having to share the spotlight. Zett is zetting in his new dungeon.

[g00brielandbeez]

...Dada (is Dada okay? Ik dad is but rn I'm overthinking everything lol) Mumzy?

I'm scared to tell her about my past. About what my ex did and all that shit... im scared she won't accept me after I tell her...

Dad is alright, I don't think I'm ready for Dada yet, but thank you for asking! I appreciate it!

Cherub, I am so sorry you went through that, but I promise you it feels better to talk to her about it. If you two are going to head in that romantic direction, communication is a very good thing to establish towards the beginning so that it isn't an issue in the future.

i agree, and furthermore, i feel it can connect two people since it showzz how much you truzt her. if she is really the one for you, then she will not react poorly, rather, she might ask how she can help, or what she can do differently to prevent that from happening again (juzzt examples of what good responses could be, not saying "this is exactly what she needs to say to he good-"). if she doesn't acczept you because of your pazzt then she doezzn't dezzerve your future. zet boundariezz if needed, talk about triggers, and feel. it's not a bad thing to feel with someone who cares about you.

Right! Just talk about what you need from you and her being together.

[ohyeahmagi-nation]

"A Hole Lot" The Unwanted, Part 3 by Edward Bolme Read Part 2 "Exile"

Harror stepped out of the magical gateway and onto the surface of the Moonlands, shielding her eyes from the bright glare of the cheerful summer sun. She hissed involuntarily.

"It is bright out here, isn't it?" said a familiar, hollow voice as a shadow stepped closer.

"Korremar!" gasped Harror. "How -- whe-- what are you doing here?"

"I waited," he said enigmatically. "I knew you'd come."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence," said Harror sarcastically.

"He's not going to hurt us, too, is he?" asked Qwade tentatively, peering out at Korremar's imposing frame.

"Get out here, squidboy," Harror growled at Qwade, who stood just inside the gateway whimpering. "You're blocking the way for the others."

He reached out with one trembling hand and pulled it quickly back as if he'd been burned. "But it's all dry out there and stuff," he whined.

"Shh," said Harror suddenly. "Are those Warrada's footsteps I hear coming?"

In an instant, the other four Shadow Magi had exited the magical gateway and sealed it behind them. It faded with a twinkling of animite and a loud, hollow pop!

Ashio giggled.

"What?" Harror asked Ashio, eyeing him suspiciously. "What's so funny?"

The Weave Shadow Magi leaned close to Harror and whispered in her ear. A bemused expression crossed her face as she fought the impulse to laugh.

The rest of the Shadow Magi brushed themselves off and took a look at their surroundings. They stood on the edge of a cliff. Looking down, they saw bank of a great river far below them, flowing north to the sea. Across the river the thick green grass of the Weave swayed in the gentle breeze. Behind them rose the great forest of Naroom. To the south, they could see a hint of the jungles of Paradwyn, and farther yet, Kybar's Teeth scraped the sky with its jagged pinnacles.

"Well, then," said Chur. "Where to?

"Cald," said Lanyx immediately.

"Arderial."

"The Sands."

"The sea," said Qwade plaintively, wistfully looking north.

Chur snorted. "Look at us: we're not wanted. We've been exiled from the Core. None of us is welcome in our homelands. I say we try to find what allies we can and join up with Korg and Zet."

"No," chorused five firm voices together.

"Oookay," conceded Chur. "Bad idea. It's easy to forget how very little you miss Korg until he's with you again. But that leaves us without a place to go, or a place to hide, or--"

"There's one," said Ashio, still trying to wipe the smile from his face. "The Weave."

For a moment, all was quiet. Then Chur spoke up again, saying, " Oookay, we have no place to go, no place to hide--"

"I'm serious," said Ashio.

"So's my hunger," said Qwade. "Anybody got a--"

"I've got a knuckle sandwich if you don’t shut up," interrupted Harror. "Why do you think we can hide in the Weave, Ashio? Won't it eject us?"

"I'm still a part of the Weave," he said, "a part of the whole. But I've been trying to make the hole a part of the Weave."

"That didn't clear anything up," said Harror pointedly.

"There is a hole at the bottom of the Weave. I found it the day I decided to fight against the Weave. So while the Weave wanted me to be a part of the whole, this hole became a part of me. It gave me my powers.

"I crawled deep down the hole that day, exploring it, but it went on for quite a ways. I think it may be a back door to the Core. We could sneak back in and catch the twins when they're unprepared."

"I don’t think I'm ready for that," said Qwade.

"Unless Lanyx goes first," chuckled Harror knowingly.

"Regardless," said Chur authoritatively, holding her hands out to either side to stop all further bickering, "it sounds like a good place to hide. A good base from which to work. I mean, none of us knew about it, and no one in the Weave knew about it until Ashio discovered it, so I'd say it's the best place for us to hole up right now. No pun intended."

"Indeed," said Lanyx. "You can get us there?" he asked Ashio.

"Of course. I'll Weave the grass around us as we move. No one will even know we're there."

"Good. At this point, secrecy is important," said Lanyx, trying to reassert control.

"Follow me," said Ashio.

Not wanting to be a follower, Lanyx immediately replied with, "Lead on, grasswalker."

"Sure thing," said Ashio. "Follow me."

"Go!" barked Lanyx. "I command you!"

In the end, Chur and Harror pushed the two arguing Shadow Magi forward just to get moving.

---

To be continued….

What's Ashio's Story? Read Weapons of Darkness, Part 2 What happens next? Read Part 4 "Blazing Trails"

[iklees]

State Tectonics / Malka Older

Centenal Cycle #3

Het is weer bijna tijd voor verkiezingen. Na de dramatisch verlopen verkiezing vijf jaar geleden, en het onthullen van een complot van Information medewerkers in de tussentijd, staat er nu veel op het spel. Behalve de micro-regeringen, kan er nu ook worden gestemd wie de vertegenwoordiger wordt van Information in het nieuw te vormen Secretariat, waar de grotere regeringen en Information -- met vertegenwoordigers van nulstaten als toehoorders -- overkoepelende besluiten moeten nemen. Mishima is tegen haar zin één van de kandidaten namens Information, maar ze zou liever actief zijn op de grond, want er speelt weer van alles. Mishima en haar assistent Amran onderzoeken niet-officiële informatiestromen, Roz houdt het bouwen van de eerste manteltunnel in de gaten en vindt clandistiene communicatiekanalen, Maryam onderzoekt de aanslagen op data stations. "Exformation", zoals de voormalig Information-medewerkers worden genoemd die een paar jaar geleden zijn ontsnapt naar nulstaten, lijkt de meest logische dader, maar wat is hun doel? Vernietigen van Information uit wraak, overnemen van de macht, of nog iets heel anders?

However, as Ken reminded her at one point when she was ready to chew the walls with frustration, this is not about the best idea. It's about politics. Case in point: she got into an early argument with Nejime and al-Derbi about why the Information representative should be globally elected. "It doesn't make sense. This person represents Information; it should be Information staff who chose whom they want in that position." "That's not the point." Al-Derbi spoke softly, as usual. "Information already has influence." Mishima was so focused on system design that she hadn't seen the larger picture. Of course, Information would continue to influence the world the way it always has: through the subtle, often unintentional control and weighing and presentation of data. The point of the Information representative wasn't to advocate for this already-powerful entity but to garner the reflexive legitimacy that people would assign to someone who was globally elected. To make people feel like they were involved. Illusory democracy. After the slightly embarrassing pause of working through it, Mishima turned on Nejime. "I though you told me this was going to be a real job," she snapped, perhaps more sharply than she should have, because she was annoyed with herself for missing it, annoyed with them for playing these games.

Deze trilogie toont aan dat ook van politiek boeiende scifi gemaakt kan worden, die je beslist aan het denken zet.

[exclamania-news-network]

[A group of ten people walk into the room. They look like typical anons, but each are colored a different two color combination of white, blue, black, red and green, evenly split down the middle. They each have nametags. Their glasses are normal.]

Azor (white-blue): Hey, since there's ten of us, do we each get a vote?

Zet (red-blue): Yeah, I want to vote for the chaos guy!

Sesy (white-green): Oh come on, really?

Dimr (black-blue): Don't start with each other, guys. We came here to vote, you all already decided privately.

Guul (red-green): I want to fight.

[Azor glares at Guul. Guul hangs his head in shame.]

Zet: Well I'm voting Nefarious, of course!

Sesy: I am going to vote for Status. None of this chaos shall last.

Azor: I am going to vote for Nefarious, as he appears to plan the least change.

Smic (blue-green): I guess I'll vote for Nefarious.

Bors (white-red): I'll vote for Nefarious as well.

Orzo (white-black): I don't really want anything to change, so yeah. Nefarious.

Rako (black-red): Oh hell yeah I'm voting for Nefarious!

Dimr: I will vote Nefarious as well.

[Dimr has a knowing smirk on their face.]

Golgi (black-green): Wow, a lot of us are voting for that wizard, huh. Including me.

Guul: I agree. Wizard good. I vote for wizard.

- The Ten Guild Anons (blog is yet to be made because of uhhhhh definitely not voter fraud 👍...also you never said I couldn't have all but one of them vot nef HEHE)

[Well you got me. John, get ðe zombies ready]

[messydiabolical]

My latest rarepair obsession: Thane Krios x Steve Cortez, aka, Kriortez <3 <3 <3 [This is a cropped version of a larger un tumblrable piece. Full piece is on my twitter, same name as here]

More about Kriortez under the cut. (Includes descriptions of sexual situations).

I can't stop thinking about them: with the love and support of his found family and reconnection with his son, Thane decides to pursue keprals treatment. The powers of Mordin and Miranda help him kick ass. Refreshed and ready to fight by his dear friend Shepard's side, Thane rejoins the Normandy, where he encounters the beautiful, loyal, warm perfect man that is Steve Cortez. Both being widows gives them a connection, but it's not just that: I genuinely feel that these two characters would bond SO WELL. The always a way with words @zet-sway described it so much better than I could: "I'm just imagining their relationship. Both of them, professional as fuck. House is impeccably clean. They're well spoken and dependable. And the moment their spark is lit they're on each other like white on rice, handprints on the windshield, clothes on the floor, having loud, messy, intense sex on whatever available surface. Cortez has bite marks under his collar, Thane is still dripping by the time they go out for dinner. Heart eyes for days."

[fantomcomics]

What’s Out This Week? 11/16

Raven had the entire post typed up and ready to go, but the internet crashed and she lost the draft. DONATE TO OUR TOYS FOR TOTS BOX TO MAKE HER FEEL BETTER (AND ALSO HELP KIDS)

True Beauty GN Vol 1 -  Yaongyl

From the smash hit WEBTOON comic comes a story about self-esteem, love, and learning to accept yourself for who you are. True Beauty follows a high schooler named Im Ju-kyung who sees her social standing skyrocket when she masters the art of makeup from YouTube. Once bullied for being perceived as ugly, young Im Ju-kyung uses Youtube tutorials to transform into a beautiful popular girl. Caught in a love triangle between a mystery man and a bad boy, Ju-kyung navigates both high school and her personal life, while her self-esteem, romantic life and career are constantly in flux. How long can she keep her true identity a secret?

Voyagis #1 (of 5) -  Sumeyye Kesgin

What if one of the VOYAGER probes was found by aliens on an uninhabitable planet laid to waste by a wandering black hole? Their resources dwindling and under the thumb of a relentless tyrant, alien hero Sen's discovery of the probe leads to adventure - and possible salvation - for her and her people.

Movements & Moments TP -  Sonja Eismann 

Indigenous Peoples all over the world have always had to stand their ground in the face of colonialism. While the details may differ, what these stories have in common is their commitment to resistance in a world that puts profit before respect, and western notions of progress before their own. Movements and Moments is an introductory glimpse into how Indigenous Peoples tell these stories in their own words.

You’re Funny For A... GN  -  Sophia Zarders

Looking for your next laugh? This illustrated guide to women, non-binary, and trans comedians has what you're looking for! Showcasing emerging talent along with well-loved icons, you're certain to discover your new favorite comic in the stand-up scene.

I Hate Fairyland #1 -  Skottie Young & Brett Bean 

Eisner Award-winning writer SKOTTIE YOUNG (MIDDLEWEST, TWIG, THE ME YOU LOVE IN THE DARK) and artist BRETT BEAN (Marvel's Rocket & Groot) bring back the hit comic I HATE FAIRYLAND for an all-new ONGOING SERIES! Everyone's favorite green-haired, axe-crazed maniac returns in this Deadpool meets Alice In Wonderland adventure! Gert is all grown up and living in the real world. Times are tough, and the only job she's qualified for has her trying to find her way back to the place she hates the most...Fairyland.

Invader Zim 25th Anniversary Edition #1 -  Jhonen Vasquez, Aaron Alexovich & Megan Lawton

The comic that launched a thousand Girs: Invader ZIM #1 returns in this special Oni 25th Anniversary Edition!

Kroma #1 (of 4) -  Lorenzo De Felici

Imprisoned in a tower within the walls of the Pale City, Kroma is believed to be the most evil creature alive. But a chance meeting with the mysterious orphan Zet creates an opportunity for Kroma to escape her cruel... that is, if they can survive the strange dangers within the city walls and the monstrous threats that lie beyond!

Hell In A Bottle GN -  Kyusaku Yumeno & Honojiro Towoji

A beautiful book that can be enjoyed both as a short story and an artbook. The first in a series combining gorgeous contemporary artwork with literary classics of the early 20th century, bringing classic Japanese literature to a new audience. A children's Eden on a deserted island turns to hell, as a brother and sister face the ultimate temptation... Told in epistolary form, this bizarre short story takes on themes of faith, degradation, and transgression, accompanied by stunning original artwork.

Touring After The Apocalypse GN Vol 1 -  Sakae Saito

With a surprisingly upbeat tone, readers of Girls' Last Tour will enjoy this trip through apocalyptic Japan. All alone after the end of days, two girls bike through the empty ruins of Japan-and they're not about to let the collapse of civilization get in the way of sightseeing! Even when the world ends, their journey goes on.

Artist TP -  Yeong-Shin Ma

In Artist three artists are on the outer limits of relevancy in an arts culture that celebrates youth. They're caught in circular arguments about what makes real art and concerned about the vapid interests of their younger contemporaries, none of them are reaping the benefits of success. But there's always another chance to make it. When it comes time, out of the three, who will emerge as an acclaimed artist? More important, when one artist's star rises, will he leave the rest behind?

Door To Door, Night By Night #1 -  Cullen Bunn & Sally Cantirino

The Heritage Mills sales team travels from town to town, knocking on doors. They're the best at what they do... which also means they're the worst. They're broken, each and every one of them, haunted by closets so full of skeletons, they're bursting. When they discover a terrible secret behind one fateful door, it opens their eyes to a world full of real monsters hidden in every small town.

Embrace Your Size: My Own Body Positivity GN -  Hara 

A love letter to those who dream of being fashionable but consider their weight as an obstacle, this uplifting comic essay by a plus-sized author chronicles her own journey with body positivity and learning to love herself as she is.

Futari Escape GN -  Shouichi Taguchi

In this modern yuri romance, a professional manga creator and her slacker girlfriend try to relieve the pressures of adulthood by finding joy in the little things in life-and each other! Two young women-one an overworked manga artist, the other a complete slacker-try to escape the realities of adult responsibilities. Whether it's running off on a day trip instead of being productive or going into debt for an epic meal, the two always have fun when they're together!

Hirano & Kagiura GN Vol 1 -  Shou Harusono

Basketball players. Bad boys who aren't really bad boys. Roommates. Senpai-kouhai BL romance. It all started when Kagiura moved into the school dorms with what seemed to be a bad-boy upperclassman. But after he's left in the tender care of his mother hen of a roommate, Hirano, it's too much to ask for Kagiura not to fall in love...right?!

Last Flight Out TP -  Marc Guggenheim & Eduardo Ferigato

With less than twenty four hours before the last ark leaves a dying Earth, Dr. Ben Caewood's daughter Sara has gone missing. Finally, the critically acclaimed series about a father and daughter trying to reconcile at the end of the world is collected into a single, unforgettable graphic novel from Marc Guggenheim (Arrow, X-Men) and Eduardo Ferigato (Radiant Black).

The Panic TP -  Neil Kleid & Andrea Mutti

Ten strangers, trapped beneath the Hudson River, are forced to depend on their fellow commuters in order to survive an apocalyptic event. Those left must fight their way through more than rubble to make it to safety. But the darkness is closing in, and with it their own individual fears and paranoia. It'll be a long road to the end of the tunnel . . . that is, if they don't kill each other before they get there.

Notes From A Sickbed GN -  Tessa Brunton

In 2009, Tessa Brunton experienced the first symptoms of myalgic encephalomyelitis (also known as chronic fatigue syndrome). She spent much of the next eight years unwell, in a medical holding pattern, housebound and often alone. In 2017, she found a strategy that helped reduce her symptoms, and soon began creating the first installments of a graphic memoir. Notes from a Sickbed collects previously released and brand-new, unseen comics that recall her experiences with honesty, a pointed wit, and a lively visual imagination.

Gay Who Turned Kaiju GN -  Kazuki Minamoto

Bullied for being gay, teenager Takashi Arashiro wishes he could just be somebody else-but who could predict he'd morph into a giant-headed sci-fi creature?! Takashi's tumultuous emotions become the catalyst for personal and social exploration of the LGBTQ experience in this quirky, profound manga from prolific BL author Kazuki Minamoto.

Whatcha snagging this week, Fantomites?

[innepttia]

WIP Whenever

Tagged by @commander-krios 😭 thank you

Tagging: @angstyastro (you working on anything??? 😉) @zet-sway @spookyvalentine @callista-curations @hanarinhightown @skittidyne @bluerose5 and anyone else that wants to because I love you all and if I left you off it’s just because my brain is very smol.

A snippet from my moons haunted shrios fic:

Nuclear

“I saw somethin’.” The words came from Zaeed. They’d moved onto the second bunker after finding the first empty of any life whatsoever. The trio stopped, Thane and Shepard looking to the merc for further explanation. “I dunno, it was jus’a flash. Maybe I’m seein’ things but it was red.”

“Red.” Thane deadpanned. “Anything else of note?” Indignation flashed across Zaeed’s face.

“Now don’t go givin’ me any fuckin’ attitude. I saw it out the corner of my eye. Somethin’ red.”

“Zaeed, keep me updated if you see anymore. There doesn’t seem to be anything here with us now, but we need to be ready.” Why didn’t she tell them she had been seeing them since the first bunker? She couldn’t. Something was stopping her from saying the words. “Thane, you haven’t seen anything?”

“No, Shepard,” he said smoothly, always the professional when in the field. “But I will keep you informed.” But Shepard was watching Zaeed. His eyes were locked onto something past her, moving as if he tracked something. She turned to look over her shoulder, but saw nothing.

Zaeed was silent as they finished up the second bunker, finding nothing. It was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. And it got worse the moment they stepped into the third and final bunker.

The doors locked behind them and their comms filled with static.

“What the fuck?” Zaeed exclaimed as he opened his omnitool in a quick, fluid motion. He flipped over to their local comms, cutting the Normandy out completely.

“EDI?” Shepard asked loudly in the silent space. Thane cringed but didn’t switch over to local yet. “EDI!”

No response.

“Shit!” Shepard opened her omnitool to do the same as Zaeed. Thane followed her lead. She stepped to the door, running her hacking program to try to unlock the door. It beeped at her but stayed red.

“Whatever the scientists saw,” Thane began. “I bet it started here.”

“No fuckin’ shit,” Zaeed agreed. “Anythin’ this spooky has to be the beginnin’.”

“Have you seen more ghosts?” Thane’s eyes wandered over to Shepard, who stood with her back towards them as she ran different hacking programs on her omnitool. Of course he knew she had been seeing them without her saying anything. He knew everything about her.

“Yeah,” was all Zaeed said in reply. The door kept beeping. Shepard’s hand flew frantically across her omnitool as she tried again and again to unlock the door. “You?“

“No.” Thane stepped up to Shepard and put a hand on her shoulder. She tensed for a moment, her hand froze mid keystroke. “Shepard, we will find a way out. Do not worry yourself over it now.” Her shoulders fell in defeat. When she turned around, though, her face was defiant.

“You’re right. Whatever or whoever is in here will be letting us out of here.”

[thegreatweb-man]

Forgot to mention, but new profile picture

Zet time 

[euroadventure]

Dellach im Drautal - Villach - Faak am See (Drauradweg - 104km)

Donderdag 7 juli

Het is zeven uur wanneer ik al klaarwakker ben. Het maakt niet uit, ik sta rustig op en pak langzaamaan mijn spullen weer in voor ik vertrek. Zet nog een koffietje, eet een broodje en ben ready voor dag twee 💪🏻.

Inmiddels is het half negen voor ik echt wegrijd. Ik voel mijn billen na de eerste dag al best aardig en heb nog twee weken voor de boeg...🙈, dat wordt nog een uitdaging 😂.

Het is nog zonnig wanneer ik vertrek, maar als snel zie ik achter mij donkere wolken samentrekken. Ik hoop Villach droog te halen, maar heb alle spullen bij me voor als dat niet mocht lukken.

Onderweg rijd ik in het begin vooral door naaldbossen. De geur van dennen is heerlijk!

Vervolgens rijd ik veel door open valleien en dat alles in de buurt of direct naast de Drau. 

Ook vandaag is het genieten van de omgeving waarbij ik weer vooral de echte diehard fietsers tegenkom, bepakt en wel. Het leuke is dat deze 'gelijkgestemden' altijd groeten, terwijl de 'gewone' fietser vaak geen boe of bah zegt. Ik blijf in ieder geval volhardend in het groeten van iedereen die ik tegenkom, want wie goed doet...goed ontmoet toch 😉?

Uiteindelijk red ik het precies droog tot Villach. Achter mij hoorde ik het wel al rommelen en net wanneer ik gauw een Mc Donalds binnenwandel (hier hebben ze zoiezo goede koffie en wifi) , gaat het buiten opeens keihard los! Onweer en regen komt kort met bakken uit de hemel. Net op tijd binnen 🙃.

Na ruim een half uur lijkt het droog. Ik heb inmiddels ook een camping gevonden in de buurt van de Faaker See. Het is nog zo een 5 à 10 kilometer zuidwaarts fietsen, waarbij ik de Donauradweg even verlaat voor de R1b, een rondje Faaker See.

Ik ben nog maar vijf minuten vertrokken wanneer het weer begint te regenen...en steeds harder. Vervolgens raak ik even in de war of ik op de juiste weg zit. Een Duits stel die ik tegenkom helpt mij en vertelt mij dat zij op een leuke camping aan de Faaker See zitten. In plaats van de camping die ik had gezien, fiets ik nu achter hen aan naar hun camping. Het was niet ver, zei de Duitse man...uiteindelijk ben ik bij de camping en heb ik vandaag 104 kilometer op de teller staan...meer dan ik vooraf had gedacht 😆.

Ik ben inmiddels wel zeiknat geregend en het regen en is nog niet gestopt. Gelukkig kan ik binnen in het restaurant van de camping even wachten onder het genot van een latte uiteraard. Tegen 19.00uur is het al weer droog en ga ik mijn tentje opzetten, eten koken en daarna een warme douche nemen.

Ik loop nog even naar de Faaker See een paar honderd meter verderop. Prachtig avondlicht valt over het meer.

Het was een lange dag, maar ik heb wel weer genoten!

[sweeethinny]

just something that came out of nowhere, after spending a whole day reading about Bill and Fleur, which left me imagining this scene

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

''Harry!'' Teddy's voice sounded loudly in the room, full of panic and terror that Harry never wanted to hear, and so he ran into the room, accompanied by Ginny, in complete panic as he stabbed his wand and prepared to worse.

His godson was white as paper, his hair gray with fear, and his hands trembling. Harry looked for bruises or any injuries, but all he saw was an awkward shirt and slightly crooked pants from someone running

''What happened !?'' Demanded, feeling terror chilling his body, Teddy had gone through a couple of unpleasant situations, especially after he participated in a manifesto about Werewolves.

"Bill .."

"What happened to Bill?" Ginny was flushed, also ready for combat, even though she looked very scared

''He may or may not have caught me ... caught me at a slightly inappropriate time ..'' And before his voice continued, the fireplace clicked again, and an angry Bill jumped out of it, much like a ready wolf. to destroy his prey

Teddy ran after Ginny and Harry.

"Harry, I'm going to kill your godson"

Understanding perfectly what had happened - especially when Victorie jumped out of the fireplace too, too disheveled for just a trip by Flu - being followed by Fleur, Harry held his laughter, keeping his face as serious as an auror's as he walked backwards, trying to win distance between Teddy and, if Merlin allowed, his future father-in-law

''Bill ... '' He started, in a calm and friendly tone ''I'm sure we have a good explanation, and that's not what you're thinking about''

''A good explanation? Well, let's see what Edward has to say to us, when he was in my daughter's room, barely dressed, and without my knowledge'' Harry thought Teddy was the smartest of his kids, but apparently there are things that intelligence alone doesn't help. 

A spell class, however, would be very useful to keep them hidden, just as he used it several times while Ginny still lived in The Burrow.

"Dad, please," Victorie whimpered, trying to pull the man back. Harry took a few more steps

''Bill, please, the two of them are old enough to know what they are doing'' Ginny attacked, and Harry was happy that she had taken the position to go against her much taller and bigger brother.

''When it is Lily's turn, we will have this conversation''

''Well, when it's her turn, I will be her friend enough that she doesn't have to bring her boyfriend hidden in our house... We all did it, what's the difference for her?'' She pointed at Victorie, who looked scared for the fight

''The difference is, Teddy is older than her!''

"Oh, you and Fleur graduated together" Ginny said sarcastically, and Harry elbowed his nephew slightly when he heard him chuckle.

"Shut up," he whispered, wanting to turn around and slap the boy on the back of the head, saying he was defying death if he wanted to laugh at Bill's face when he was close to ending any source of pleasure that Teddy could have.

For the whole life.

''Next time, instead of trying to terrify your daughter about the normal things in life, how about talking to her? It will happen whether you like it or not, so why not make it easier? Neither you nor Charlie would exist if Mom had someone adult to talk about contraceptives and this things.’'

Teddy remained hidden, even when Bill carried Victorie into the Flu and disappeared next to Fleur, who smiled sheepishly and apologized;

''Ze's not handling it well, but it will zet better''

When there was only the three left, Harry burst out laughing, watching as Ginny turned angrily towards his godson, slapping him on the shoulders and arms

''How can you make a mistake like that?! Didn't I tell you exactly what time he got home? Can you imagine what would have happened if we weren't here?! Harry, stop laughing, because it's your fault that Teddy doesn't know how to sneak well, you're the one who should have taught him about it!'' The man laughed even harder, running out of breath ''You lost your brain in the middle of Vic's legs?! I can't believe I had to defend a man this big ...''

Ginny left the room, denying it while still babbling about how she had passed the exact instructions and how incomprehensible Bill was with the normal things in life - that he did a lot!

''Boy ... you have so much to learn'' Harry tapped Teddy on the shoulder, shaking his head and wiping tears with his other hand '' But I would give my fortune to see his face when he opened the door''

''Don't want to ... I think I'll have nightmares for the rest of my life ... Is celibacy really that bad? And you never got caught?'' The boy's voice sounded a little sarcastic, as if challenging him. Harry denied

''Of course not'' Ginny laughed falsely from the kitchen, before screaming;

“Who are you lying to, Potter? The only difference is that you are good at making people dizzy'' She appeared again in the room, deftly peeling a banana ''What I really recommend you learn, Teddy, if you want to continue having moments of happiness'' Ginny broke the fruit in half, taking a bite a little hard. Teddy beside him shuddered. ''Or, celibacy life is always an option''

[ghostxofxartemis]

Six Sentence Sunday

Got tagged by @scribblesdg, Thanks love, for some WIP Whenever. 

Tagging: @zet-sway, @miniature-space-hamster, @screwyouflightlieutenant, @rosenkow, @halesshepardn7, no obligations of course! 

Been putting a lot of work on Reagan and William Coats’ backstory for NaNo. Here’s a little Snippet. 

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

Their host doesn’t know they’re here for the drugs. They think they’re just here to have a good time, drinks, some sex, and she and William will be out the door. That’s just the cover. William’s job is to give Reagan enough time to search the bedroom where they might have stashed the drugs or the whereabouts they could be hidden at. Infiltrate. There’s risk involved; this could get ugly real quick if either of them is found out. Whatever happens, they’ll cover each other’s back. They always do. 

William sighs. His pupils dilated. He scans the area. He’s hyper-focused on their surroundings. Beads of sweat trickle down his forehead catching Reagan’s attention, and she tilts her head to the side, her gaze following the sweat. 

“Will?” 

“Don’t worry. I got this.” He smiles half-heartedly as he looks at her briefly before the door opens. 

“Hey, you guys made it. Come in.” Tyrone steps aside to let them in. 

Reagan figures it’s not his real name. Doesn’t matter though, it’s a one-time meeting. At least she hopes so. Tyrone has been known to be extremely violent. Reds call him Killer for a reason. Who knows what Killer’s nickname is in his gang is. Reagan’s lips curl in disgust, but she quickly gathers her composure. She hates The Killer Angels. They think they’re so tough. 

“I figured you guys would tuck tail and run.” Killer’s smile is disconcerting. 

Reagan reaches for William’s hand, he gives her a reassuring squeeze. He’s here. He has her back. She senses his uneasiness. Now, more than ever, she does want to tuck tail and run. She scans the area. There’s a lot of frames on the walls in the hallway as they make their way to the kitchen, lamps, all things that could be used as a weapon.  

“Couldn’t pass this opportunity up,” William smirks at Killer. Reagan’s thankful for his stone-hard face when it comes to this type of situation. Hard to read to anyone else, though to her William’s an open book. His eyes soften when he glances at her, telling her they’re going to be okay, and harden back again when he looks at Killer. 

“Can I offer you a drink?” Killer turns his back to them. He pours a drink into two glasses, but Reagan can’t see the contents.

She looks up to William who shakes his head. Don’t drink it. Number one rule. Never get yourself stuck in an impossible situation. 

Killer walks back to them offering the drinks. William takes the glass and sniffs the contents. “You look like a Whiskey, guy. Imma right?” Killer smirks. There’s such evilness behind it. 

Reagan watches William closely as he pretends to take a sip. He always goes for the illusion. His eyes locked on Killer, studying the man. Reagan sees Killer’s eyes darkening. Her stomach churns, she starts to sweat more profusely.

“Can I use your washroom?” She asks. She’s going to have to hold it. She can’t blow the cover. 

“Sure, darling. It’s back down the hall, you first left, then on your left once more. Facing the bedroom where we’re going to have all the fun tonight. You can take a look inside if you want. Got everything laid out and ready just for you, love.” Killer leans in close to her, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, and she flinches away. William pulls her back behind him slightly. 

Reagan squeezes William’s hands before letting go. It’s up to him now to keep Killer busy while she gets to work. 

She heads back down the hall they just came from, making a left. She closes the door to the bathroom and goes to the bedroom on her right instead. She closes the door gently. She hugs the door with her back, taking a deep breath to try and calm down some of the nerves that have been building up since they approached this bloody apartment. 

Reagan squeezes her eyes shut, her stomach feels like it might betray her. It takes a moment before opening them again. She opens her purse, reaches for the bottle of water, untwists the cap and drinks it down. Her stomach gurgles uncomfortably as she throws her bottle back inside her purse. I need to hurry.

[seemedesignnl]

Een tas als het ultieme en functionele accessoire voor elke vrouw

Ik geloof dat de meeste vrouwen dol zijn op tassen. Het is met tassen net zoiets als met schoenen: je kunt er niet genoeg van hebben. Want zeg nou zelf: een handtas is niet alleen een trendy accessoire, het is ook nog eens heel handig. Wij vrouwen stoppen namelijk van alles en nog wat in onze tas. Helaas moet je zo nu en dan ook afscheid nemen van een tas, gewoon, omdat het echt niet meer kan. Of omdat de tas gewoon echt op is.

Dé tassentrends 2021 van handgemaakt tot larger than life tas

Gelukkig is dat niet zo erg, heb je weer een valide reden om een nieuwe tas aan te schaffen. En als je toch al bezig bent: kijk dan vooral naar de heersende trends. Op die manier heb je een fashionable accessoire dat bovendien functioneel is. Overigens hoef je je niet te laten beperken door een bepaalde trend. Belangrijk is is dat de tas aansluit op jouw wensen.

 Hieronder ontdek je alle handtassen trends 2021. Deze trends variëren nogal, waardoor elke vrouw een tas naar haar smaak kan vinden.

1. Back to the ‘90’s retro design handtassen

Het is geen verrassing, heel veel trends uit de jaren ’90 komen dit jaar terug. Dat zie je bijvoorbeeld ook met sneakers.  Wat de handtas betreft kom je dus de jaren ’90 retro ontwerpen tegen met een upgrade. Denk daarbij aan handtassen in halve maan vorm: simpel en tegelijkertijd hartstikke chique, zoals bijvoorbeeld de tas van Prada. Overigens is deze tas een grote hit onder Instagrammers. Grote kans dat dit de it-tas 2021 wordt. Met een neutrale kleur is deze tas een blijver voor de komende jaren.

2. Handmade with love

Goed nieuws voor iedereen die handig en creatief is: dit jaar mag je zelfgemaakte tas gezien worden! Ga aan de slag en brei een leuk tasje of kruip achter de naaimachine en ga met quilts aan de slag. Je kunt het zo gek niet bedenken of je mag ermee gezien worden. Pimp de tas met gouden details of een lange schouderriem en je bent ready om met je trendy accessoire de deur uit te gaan.

3. Franjes en veren

Deze trend zien we vooral in de eerste maanden van 2021, zoals de winter en de lente. Tassen voorzien van franjes en veren zorgen voor een speels element. Bovendien is het een knipoog naar de jaren ’70 toen deze trend helemaal hot was. Als echte fashionista weet je er natuurlijk je eigen draai aan te geven. Op die manier maak je jouw tas tot de echte eyecatcher van je outfit.

4. Mini tassen

Hou je van simpel en vooral functioneel? Dan is deze tassentrend 2021 echt iets voor jou. Met een minitasje waarin ruimte is voor het hoognodige (denk daarbij aan sleutels, geldpasje en misschien nog je telefoon) kom je de dag wel door. De tassen zijn iets kleiner dan clutches en  verkrijgbaar in de meest uiteenlopende designs. Denk daarbij aan een heuptas, een tasje geschikt om aan je ketting te bevestigen of een tas die je net als een clutch simpelweg in je hand draagt.

 5. Unieke tassen met een apart design

Ben je er één van geen duizend in een dozijn? Zoek je iets dat je onderscheidt van de rest en toch trendy en hip is? Speur dan eens het internet af op zoek naar een tas met een apart design. Dat mag een grote en opvallende of juist een handtas zijn. Belangrijk is dat de vormgeving anders is en uniek. Een tas waar je niet omheen kunt, waarmee je gezien mag worden.

6. Tie Dye tassen

Het was de trend in 2020: alles werd getiedyed. Omdat we nog geen afscheid kunnen nemen van deze trend, zet deze zich voort in onze tassen. Een mooie kleurverloop of verschillende kleuren die in elkaar overlopen: zo een tas is uniek en een blikvanger op zichzelf. Combineer deze met de juiste outfit en je zult gegarandeerd de aandacht trekken.

7. Functionele tassen anno 2021

Als de hele situatie ons één ding geleerd heeft is het wel het feit dat dingen vooral functioneel moeten zijn. Dit is ook de grote designers niet ontgaan. Zij komen met praktische ontwerpen waar je ook echt iets aan hebt (of niet). Neem je drinkfles mee in een door een designer ontworpen tas. Of kies voor een tasje dat je makkelijk en snel aan je riem kunt bevestigen. Ideaal als je er weer op uitgaat voor een lange wandeling door het bos.

8. Comeback van de saddle bagAls je echt geen keuze kunt maken of door de bomen het bos niet meer ziet, dan is er altijd nog één tas die je móet hebben, namelijk de saddle bag. Een tas die veel weg heeft van een crossbody tas met als verschil dat de tas voorzien is van een flap die over de tas zit. Je draagt deze net als een crossbody tas over je schouders.

https://www.seemedesign.nl/

[greatshell-rider]

Bennet waved the next person in line forward. “Next,” ne called, in Wide of course.

A human in desert wraps stepped up to ner desk, pulling down the cloth covering their lower face as they did so. Bennet busied nemself with setting up the new travel form in ner typewriter while Nev, the sketch artist on duty, began outlining the traveler’s face.

“Name?” Bennet asked once the writer was ready, ner fingers poised over the keys.

“Is that necessary?” the traveler asked instead, pointing at Nev.

“Uh, yes. Standard procedure shadow-ward of the Abyss. You have nothing to worry about though, ’long as you aren’t an escaped convict smuggling forbidden goods.” Bennet rapped two knuckles against the typewriter in amusement, glancing up to catch his reaction to the joke. But the human stared back in grim silence.

That was . . . worrying.

“You didn’t smuggle anything in, did you?” ne asked, looking the traveler over in concern. He seemed mild and nonthreatening enough, lean and muscled as he was. No suspicious bulges in his short tan and gray robe. Simple strips of cloth wound around his limbs from wrists to elbows and ankles to knees. Dusty goggles hung around his neck beneath a face rough and reddened, lips a firm straight line below a single pair of keen, dark green eyes.

“No,” the traveler said, as if testing it out. “Nothing.”

Bennet tore ner gaze away from the curls of black hair sticking out from his hood. “Uh, well, good.” Nev finished their sketch. Bennet hurried on. “Please sir, your name?”

“Bij.”

Bennet typed it down. “Place of departure?”

“Raknik ’Scape, before a transfer to Halfwalk Oasis.”

Clack clack clack went the typewriter. Nev sat bored, their pencil tapping against the drawing of Bij’s face. “Reason for travel?”

“Work opportunity. My sister’s joining me soon for the same.”

Bennet nodded, only including the first part on the form. His sister could fill out her own form when she came. “And your travel number?”

Bij told it, and Nev got up from their stool to fetch his luggage from the rack in the tent’s back room. While he waited, Bij tugged down his hood and the rest of his headwraps to pull his fingers through his sweaty hair, half-turning to look out across the port, gaze flicking from person to person. Bennet wondered what or who he was looking for. After a quick comb-through, Bij began braiding his hair back. He started close to his hairline, deft fingers weaving the black strands until they grew too short and he tied them off in a short tail that just barely brushed his shoulders.

Abyss take me, but he’s hot, ne thought, the scale beneath ner right eye itching, right as Nev returned with the luggage and Bij turned back. Protocol called for Nev to search and Bennet to type out a description for each item before they were returned.

First item: Simple knapsack with a change of clothes and three bound scrolls within. Tied shut with drawstring and ivory button. No magic detected.

Second item: Double-edged sword, steel well-cared for and polished but hilt worn. No further ornamentation or enchantment on either blade or scabbard.

And third:

Taped cardboard box, a corner bent in from transport, filled with paper-wrapped chocolate bars of neither the poisonous nor transformative recipe.

Bennet raised an eyeridge—ne’d heard humans did that with their hairs—while Nev retaped the box and ne typed it out on the form. “Didn’t expect that last one.”

Bij shrugged, knapsack on one shoulder as he belted on the sword. “I have a sweet tooth.” His eyes traveled up Bennet’s torso, slow and considering, before stopping at ner eyes and holding ner gaze steadily. Ner throat-scales flushed red, the horns along ner jaw pricking out, and ne hurriedly bent over the typewriter, grateful beyond the Abyss that Nev then handed Bij the box, taking his attention off nem.

“Anything else?” he asked, tucking the chocolate under the same arm carrying the knapsack.

“Oh, uh, yes,” Bennet said, fingers fluttering over the keys before ne remembered to switch papers, handing the completed travel form to Nev, who stapled it in front of the portrait sketch. “One more question. Um, actually the reason you’re in this line. You requested an additional service . . . ?”

Bij nodded. “The sister I mentioned, I was hoping to send her a message.”

Ne quickly typed it out, fingers steadier as ner scales cooled and horns relaxed. “To let her know you arrived, of course.”

Bij hesitated. “Yes,” he finally said, as if unconvinced it was a real word.

Bennet nodded, embarrassed again. “Very well. Uh, speak as you want the letter dictated. Begin.”

“Lace: It’s midnight and the milk isn’t poured yet. Stop. No smell of smoke. Stop. Cookie crumbles soon, don’t sneak down the stairs. Stop.”

Clack clack clack. Bennet said nothing at the bizarre message and Bij offered no explanation, just shifted his weight, hand settled comfortably on his sword hilt as he waited for nem to finish. Maybe the words meant something more cohesive in Bij’s native language.

Bennet tore the letter free and handed it to the mech-crow on its perch. It took the paper in its beak and flew away, inner gears and cogwheels whirring as it did so. “That will be sent to Halfwalk Oasis and kept in hold until you or your sister claims it, and upon pick-up will cost two zets. You pay two now for shipment.”

Bij handed over a zet and three kgois, which, while unconventional and would make a moneychanger curse, would do.

“And that’s all,” Bennet announced, both relieved and disappointed to see the desert traveler go. “Welcome to the Endscape, Mr. Bij.”

“You don’t happen to know a nearby tavern?” Bij asked. “One room for a night?”

Bennet hesitated, glancing at Nev. But they paid nem no heed, busy doodling a loopy border around the edge of a blank page. “Not a tavern,” ne said at last, typing out a short list of directions on the writer. “But, well.” Clack clack clack. Riiiiiiip. Ne handed Bij the slip of paper. “If you can’t find another place.” And ne dared another knuckle-tap, just one, with a single, cautiously optimistic, finger.

Bij scanned the lines, an eyebrow—yes!—lifting. Bennet sweated. Then he tucked the paper in his pocket and looked up. “Sounds good,” he said, then, with a small curve of his lips, “I look forward to it.”

Bennet’s throat-scales flushed again, and before ne could respond, the human turned and stepped out of line, walking shadow-ward. His frame was small and barely illuminated against the massive swirling hole of darkness slowly eating away at the ’scape’s horizon. Scratching at ner cheek, Bennet watched him merge with the crowd of other travelers, those both entering and leaving port, and disappear from sight. Nev cleared their throat and ne shook nemself.

“Next!” ne called, preparing the next form. Ne also looked forward to the end of the day, when ne could go home and see what waited for nem there. After all, with the Abyss tearing more of the ’scape away each day . . . sweet things were to be savored.

[o-captain-elcapitan]

Steel Horses - Chapter Two

Title: Steel Horses Author: ElCapitan Game: Dragon Age Characters/Pairing: M!Adaar x Dorian Disclaimer: All recognizable content belongs to Bioware

Summary -

Valo-Kas M.C. is not a 1% motorcycle club. The security work that they do is above board, legal and licensed, squeaky f*cking clean. What their clients get up to, however, is none of their business. And their strict “look the other way, ask no questions” policy is what keeps them in business. That is until a new Tevinter client puts the MC in federal cross hairs. Ozet Adaar wants to protect his sister and save his club. When a Tevinter ambassador knocks him on his ass his heart is pulled in yet another direction and there’s nothing more terrifying than knowing that he can’t protect them all. His twin, Ozena, might consider herself “barely a mage” but that’s still enough to damn her if the wrong people find her out. Federal scrutiny is the last thing they need. Maker only knows if they can shake it with their lives in tact.

Read on Ao3

[Prologue]

Ozena

Pulling her attention from Zet’s back, she left her twin to his confident forward march and focused on the shipping containers stacked like building blocks around them. As the MC strode toward the waiting humans, Ozena did a mental rollcall of the heat she was packing. The nervous energy that had been cycling through sailor knots with her intestines now had the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, too. The rusted jumbo blocks were piled high, a towering mazework of mismatched storage units forgotten and left to rot on Seagrave’s restless coast. Salty sea air was winning the fight against the metal containers, devouring them slowly. 

Her passing curiosity on the contents of all these shipping units was an afterthought, irrelevant. Ozena’s only and immediate concern had to do with their surroundings and the blaring warning bells of her instincts on edge. She had the sense that they were being watched by more than the humans anticipating their arrival. 

When Ashir caught her gaze and dipped his chin, Ozena was already moving, ready for the wordless command and eager to act on it. She peeled away from Valo-Kas to check the perimeter, the east most containers her responsibility while Nysris investigated the west. An odd choice if only her officer’s patch was considered. But almost everything Ozena knew about weapon handling and close quarter combat she’d learned from the half-vashoth. Nys was the club’s treasurer, but she could have been Sergeant just as easily. Her training was as extensive as Ash’s. Unlike Ozena, who’d picked up everything she knew from the club’s other members. 

She removed the 9mil from the holster under her cut and the hunting knife from the sheath strapped to her thigh. The hand gripping the knife steadied her gun hand as she slunk into the shipping yard’s shadows. They should have done a perimeter sweep before meeting these Ferelden wannabe tough guys. Ashir had said as much, but there hadn’t been time. Now she wished that he’d insisted, because the time and location of this meeting were all the right components for an ambush. 

Resisting the urge to light up the night, Ozena searched the darkness gathered between each stack of shipping containers. She didn’t want to give away her position with floating orbs of sourceless light, not if it’d cost her the advantage of sneaking up on someone. Behind her, at the meeting she’d left to cooler heads, came the deafening discharge of firing guns rat-tat-tatting into the night. She glanced over her shoulder, pausing her search to gauge the sound. Ozena had seen the human remove the rifle from the case Zet had been holding, she knew it had to be him, taking the thing for a test drive. But she held her breath and strained her ears anyway, as if she could interpret the tone of the gunfire and identify its intent. 

Just a kid with a new toy, taking it out for a spin. 

She’d all but convinced herself of her club’s safety when something moved out of the corner of her eye. Ozena aimed her gun at the shifting shadows, too late. A forceful energy slammed into her and threw her into the shipping container behind her. Her muscles went taut on impact and the barrel of her gun illuminated, lightning and thunder that was followed by a pained shout. She was the first to gather her bearings and flung herself into the fight, lowering her gun and raising her knife as the figure ducked to the side then stepped in closer, their fingers glossy as they held their limp arm. 

Something primordial rippled in her, a radiant energy that flexed; like recognizing like. Ozena reached for that effervescent glow. A drop was pulled from the shallow pool and manifested along her surface. Just as the figure hurled themself at her, brandishing a shard of ice that gleamed as sharp as her own knife, a layer of bark formed on her skin. 

Ozena lifted her arm as they moved. The added layer of oaked armor deflected the ice shard the hooded mage flung at her. She side stepped their tackle and raised her knee to catch them in the gut before they could tumble past her. When they doubled over, gasping for breath, she slammed her elbow into the back of their neck. The mage collapsed to the ground and Ozena re-holstered her gun before she flipped them onto their back. 

Lifting her palm, she tapped again into the small pool of primal power. A small globule of pale green light took shape in her hand, a floating orb that shone weakly in the dark and only gave off just enough light to see by as she crouched down on top of the mage and yanked their hood back. One hand was held up in surrender while the other pressed down on his bleeding shoulder. Her hunting knife on his throat kept him still as she scoured his human features. 

She ripped down the collar of his coat then peeled his bottom lip away from his teeth. “Who sent you?” demanded Ozena, still searching him for colors. 

“P-please,” coughed the human, raised hand trembling. 

No. Not trembling. Moving. 

Too late she noticed the glif he’d subtly drawn into the air. The now glowing sigil pulsed and Ozena was flung back again, thrown fifteen feet like a damn ragdoll as the mage scrambled onto his feet and disappeared into the shadows before she could think to mark him with her magic. She slammed hard into another storage unit. The collision punched the air out of her lungs. Ozena caught onto the container’s rust roughened exterior to keep from falling while her brain did a hard reboot and tried to get the breathe-in-breathe-out cycle going again. Distantly she registered the deafening exchange of gunfire cracking nearby. 

Ozet. The club. This was an ambush after all. 

Coughing, she pushed away from the cargo container and stumbled toward the sound. Every step closer was surer, more steady than the last. There was a clarity to her heartbeat, a certainty to her desperation. Ashir called it a battle calm, and the other once-soldiers in Valo-Kas agreed that it was a real thing. Time slowed, darkness lifted, Ozena’s mind was suped up on NOS. Her instincts took hold and everything else moved onto the back burner. 

She only realized that she’d freed her gun when she lifted it with steady hands and squeezed the trigger. The hooded figure on top of a crate stack fell from his perch. His wet thump landing went unnoticed as Ozena lined another shot. There was another figure behind Valo-Kas, another mage casting a barrage of spells at their backs, as if they were pulling each attack from the tome levitating before them. She squeezed the trigger, unloading a rattle of gunfire and each bullet slammed into a shield they’d erected around themself. 

Stepping forward as she shot, she knew her clip would be empty before she could get that barrier down. There was hope, though, when she noticed the cracks in the forcefield. The magic was crumbling under the assault. Fissures spider webbed over the bubble and, when he finally turned his attention onto her, Ozena’s barkskin deflected the glowing missiles he hurled her way. 

The shell encapsulating him disintegrated in a burst of light and Ozena lowered her head before charging him down. She rammed into him, horns first, and knocked him off his feet. Before he could gasp for breath she sat on his chest, grabbed hold of either side of his head, and beat it into the cement. Once, twice, again and again, until his body went limp beneath her. Until blood pooled like ink and his head came away lighter from the ground, if stringy when she pulled it back. 

“Pull back, pull back!” Shokrakar sounded the retreat and it was the near panic in her voice that snapped her out of her battle calm. 

The world slid into focus with screaming and exploding weapons. She scanned the scene as she moved for cover behind a shipping container, scouring the slaughter ground for her club. They were easy to locate in the chaos, an organized unit, a localized tempest. Shok and Zet were guarding their client, the small Tevinter woman tucked under Zet, between him and the crate they were both ducked behind. Shokrakar and the client's body guard were behind a nearby stack of crates, each peeking from cover whenever there was an opening to offer cover fire as the other members worked their way back from the gunfight. 

By the dead humans splayed near the docks, she knew that this business meet was a bust. All Valo-Kas cold do now was get the client out alive. And, more importantly, themselves. 

Ozena slid the empty magazine from it’s compartment, letting it fall to the ground in a clatter. A fresh metal jacket glided into place and locked there by a bump from the heel of her palm. She leaned out from behind cover, barrel first, and added to the cover fire. They needed to get to their bikes, but she wasn’t going to go anywhere without her brother. 

One by one, Valo-Kas drew back. Between reloads they found cover further away from the docks, within the walls of shipping containers. She kept her weapon trained on the elevated shooter. Before she could wish that she had a deeper pool of magic, or a more refined hold on the magic she did have, blood misted from his chest as two shots hit home and dropped him out of the fight. She was better with a gun anyway. 

Nys touched her shoulder as she passed, instructions in a squeeze she barely felt. But Zet was still out there and she wouldn’t budge. With the rest of the club retreating a safe distance away, Shok and Zet finally peeled away from their crates after giving their client and her driver coverfire. Once the two were safe, Valo-Kas’ president and vice president slunk between the containers before they could get pinned down. And with them on the move, Ozena also made a mad dash for their waiting bikes. Gunfire and shouting still sounded from behind them, but none of them looked back. 

As she sprinted through the shipping yard toward their motorcycles, the roar of several engines joined the night’s deadly cacophony. She was racing toward her own bike when a scream stopped her in her tracks. Ozena turned back to watch the driver fall face first to the ground. His back was a mess of mangled flesh and shredded fabric. Their client struggled from Zet’s holdas he half dragged her toward the SUV. She managed to slip his grasp, ducking under his arm to race toward the fallen elf. 

Ozena’s focus left the screaming woman and panned over to the hooded figure who’d picked up one of the heavy weapons their client had brought for show and tell. Her heart stopped and blood chilled to ice as she watched him lift the weapon to his chest and line up a shot. Zet lurched forward, arms outstretched, ready to throw himself between the client and a spray of bullets. 

‘NO!’  she screamed from the depths of her soul, unsure and uncaring if the word managed to claw up her throat and tear through the night as well. Arms thrown out, hands splayed in front of her, Ozena emptied all that remained of her magic into protecting her twin. She imagined a second skin, not of bark like hers, but something otherworldly, impenetrable, pure hermetic power as unbreakable as their bond. 

Ozet’s skin flashed with a vibrant blue glow that dimmed as her magic settled over him. 

The moment it did the maelstrom was unleashed. The machine gun’s barrel sparked white. A ceaseless cracking cut like a machete through the night, vicious and deadly. Zet threw himself in front of it just as the hooded figure sprayed the night with a flesh shredding volley of lead. There was a squelching sound of pierced skin and blood spray, and Ozena screamed in horror, convinced her too shallow pool of magic had failed her, failed him, had damned them both. 

But Zet’s skin flashed blue again and again, a strobing light that was followed by the clatter of bullets falling to the concrete around him. 

Before she could process the heaving breaths of his curled form protecting their client, a replying crack shot from behind her. The machine gun slipped from the hooded figure’s hands. His hood fell back with his head, revealing a hole between his eyes. He collapsed to the ground and Ozena was moving before his body made impact, racing for her brother as Shok shouted commands. 

“Get her the fuck out of here!”

Ozet stood from his crouch with the human in his arms. He saw her running his way and issued his own orders. “The keys.”

“On it,” she said, sprinting past her brother toward the dead elf. She skidded to a stop beside his body and turned him onto his mutilated back to reveal a front that wasn’t much prettier. Patting his pockets down, she found his keys just as more hooded figures appeared from between the shipping containers. She didn’t wait for them to unleash their guns or magic. Ozena shot back onto her feet and scrambled for the same SUV Zet was running toward. 

“Zet,” she shouted as she neared him. When he turned she said, “Trade me,” and tossed him the keys.

He caught them in the hand under the human’s knees, who he slid into her arms once Ozena had stopped in front of him. Zet opened the back passenger door and she climbed in with the human in tow. The door slammed shut before she was fully settled. Outside Ozet shouted, “Go, go, go,” and the roar of revving engines met his command, then the crack of gunfire popped in rebuttal. 

Zet slammed into the driver’s seat. The engine started with a soft rumble, the machinery too expensive, manufactured for silence and elegance that could never match the bassy roar of a motorcycle’s V-twin engine they were used to. When he stepped on the gas it shot forward without a gurgle of protest. He didn’t look away from the night darkened road ahead when he asked, “How’s she doing back there, Zen?” The question was followed by the scraping sound of bullets cutting through metal and shattering glass. 

She didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Ozena stared desperately at the human bleeding all over the luxury leather seats. She was choking on it. Crimson dribbled from her mouth, it stained her teeth as she coughed it up. Ozena moved her hands from where she was holding them to her middle. 

A murmured, “Fuck,” left her as she looked up from the human’s abdomen to her tearful brown eyes. 

“Well?”

She cut him off with a harsh, “ Shhh ,” and placed her hands where the woman’s had just been. To her brother, she instructed, “Let me concentrate,” and shut her eyes to do just that. 

Taking deep, slow breaths, she reached again for that ever glowing ember, but it was dim, so fucking dim. All that was left was the smoldering glow of a candle starved of air, all but extinguished if not for sheer stubbornness. She harnessed it anyway, gathering the dredges of magic she still had left and poured it into the human. Thinking mending thoughts, of flesh stitching together, blood receding, smooth, unblemished skin, her hands glowed with a white, purifying energy. The light speared dimly between the cracks of her fingers, from the tight space between her hands and the woman’s middle. It was healing magic, and it wasn’t enough. 

The wound was stitching together too slowly. She’d lost too much blood. There was too much damage. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes and into her dark hair. Long lashes fluttered and she groaned, sobbing, still choking on her blood. Her near black eyes were on Ozena’s face. She tried to speak but the effort looked like agony. It took too much out of her. The woman blinked and her gaze was past Ozena, distant and unseeing, the life draining from them with every second. 

“No, no, no, no. Come on, you Tevinter bitch. Don’t you die on me.”

“Zen.”

Ignoring her brother, Ozena moved her bloody hands from the woman’s middle to the space between her breasts and started doing chest compressions. “Don’t. You. Dare. Die. You. Stupid. Fucking. Bitch.” Each word was punctuated by the forceful press of her stacked palms to the woman’s sternum. After she breathed into her mouth, she started again.

She barely noticed when Ozet pulled off to the side of the road, just kept doing chest compressions to the unmoving body staring blankly at the ceiling. The passenger door opened to let in a wave of cold air, and Ozena didn’t look up to see her brother standing there, staring. She already knew what he was going to ask, what he’d suggest, as if she hadn’t already considered it. 

“I’m tapped,” she grunted between clenched teeth, still not looking up from the Tevinter woman that had almost gotten them all killed. “There’s nothing left.”

Zet’s hand settled on top of both of hers, stopping her from another round of compressions. “Enough, Zen,” he said gently, pulling both her hand and her attention away from the dead woman in the backseat until her gaze met his. “She’s dead. It’s over. There’s nothing you can do.”

He held his hand out to her and Ozena hesitated just long enough to glance down at those dark, vacant eyes before she put her hand in his and let him help her out of the SUV. She gulped down fresh air then doubled over with her hands on her knees. The wave of nausea and exhaustion that hit her wasn’t because she'd seen a woman die right in front of her. She was drained and her body was punishing her for it. There was nothing left and if she tried to force it she wouldn't be able to keep her dinner down. 

Ozet rubbed her back as she gulped down the cold night air. It wasn’t long before the rumbling of motorcycles closed in on them and she’d rather not be hacking up the whole of her stomach while the club deliberated their next move. 

Ozet

He was rubbing circles onto Ozena’s back when the rest of the club pulled up to the SUV and dismounted their bikes. A breath of relief eased out of him after a quick head count confirmed that all of Valo-Kas was accounted for. Prepared as he’d been for the night to go to shit, he still hadn’t anticipated casualties, and maybe his relief made him a bastard, but he wouldn’t apologize for being glad that his people weren’t counted among them. His gaze dropped down to his twin, who still had her hands braced on her knees as she breathed through her nausea. 

It’d been a close thing. Too close. This couldn’t happen again.

Shokrakar approached, gravel crunching under her motorcycle boots, her gaze on their faces before she glanced toward the open back passenger door. “The girl?”

“Dead,” he supplied with a shake of his head.

“Shit,” grumbled the president as she rubbed a ring covered hand over her mouth and jaw. “Shit!”

Zet agreed with the sentiment. This was bad for them. Dead clients weren’t the best representation of the quality of their security work. Not to mention the mess they’d been left with. A body and his and Ozena’s prints all over the bloody, bullet hole riddled vehicle that was probably a rental and would be reported stolen sooner or later. 

What a fucking shitshow. 

Patting the front of his leathers, Zet reached into his cut’s inside breast pocket and pulled free the pack of cigarettes and lighter he kept there. He tapped the cigarettes to his thigh a few times before lifting a butt to his mouth and holding it between his lips as he offered the pack to Ozena. She pushed off of her knees with murmured thanks and, while she picked one out for herself, he thumbed the flint wheel behind the shield of his hand. The flame was joined by an exhale of smoke, and he kept it burning long enough for Zen to light the tip of her own cancer stick before he flipped the lighter shut and returned everything to the pocket he’d pulled them from. 

Around them, others were also lighting up. Apparently they weren’t the only ones that needed a nicotine bump. After the night’s many close calls he knew that more than a few would want to drown the tension with Sword Swallowers and alcohol, and there’d be plenty of both waiting at the clubhouse for their return. But first there was a mess to clean up. 

To Shok he said, “I’ll get rid of the car and the body, but Zen’s and my bikes are still at the shipping yard.”

She glanced over to the elf, a command in the question posed as his name. “Ash?”

Dark eyes shifted between him and his twin. Thoughtfully, he supplied, “Four of us can double up, ride back to the wharf and bring your bikes home.”

Zen shook her head. Flicking the butt of her cigarette with her thumb, she knocked the ash from its tip and argued, “That’s a lot of unnecessary back and forth that might draw attention. I’ll go with Zet to deal with this,” She motioned vaguely at the SUV. “We’ll pick up a car and drive back to the shipping yard for our bikes. After everything that just happened we should lay low. The fewer of us on the streets, the better.”

“She’s right,” Ashir agreed, but Zet didn’t like her part in this new plan. 

He observed her wan skin and hollow eyes. She looked sallow and exhausted, and he didn't like the idea of walking her back into potential danger when she looked dead on her feet. “I’ll take Vercer,” he said, exhaling a plume of grey, still watching his sister closely. “You should go to the clubhouse and get some rest.”

As always, she was quick to argue. “Like fuck you will. I’m going.”

“Zen--”

“She’s fine,” Shok interrupted his argument, arms folded in front of her chest as she also observed his sister. But if she was willing to let Zen charge back into a fight, she clearly wasn’t seeing what he was. Moving her gaze onto him, she said, “Get rid of the body and wipe the car clean. I don’t want anything to trace back to us.”

On a sigh, Shok’s gaze took in the MC and she shook her head. Heavy eyelids slid shut and she pressed the heels of her palms into them. When she dropped her hands from her face she gave them all another once over, then the SUV they’d be getting rid of, then sighed again. “We’ll deal with the rest in the AM.” She sounded as exhausted as Ozena looked.

Cigarettes were smoked down to the filters then flicked across the pavement, into the dry, roadside shrubs, except for Ashir’s; which was pocketed to be properly disposed of later. Brief goodbyes were made, embraces exchanged, along with promises to meet back at the clubhouse before they went their separate ways. The club got back on their motorcycles and drove into the night as he and Zen slid back into the SUV and drove in the opposite direction, back toward the coast. 

It was a quiet ride and he might have been thankful for it if it weren’t for the tension blasting off of his sister in a heatwave. She was angry with him, the razor sharp silence a dead give away that she was stewing in it. If he had the energy to lock horns with her, he’d have asked what was up, but it’d been a long night and Zet really didn’t want to fight with her. 

It’d been a good long while since she’d tapped herself out like she had tonight, longer still since they’d had this close a shave. Anger was how she coped, but thirteen hours of sleep would also do the trick; which was why she should have gone home instead of climbing into the passenger seat and exhausting herself that much more. 

One hand on the steering wheel, the other softly tapping along the edge of the center console dividing them, Zet’s gaze was trained on the headlight illuminated road and strips of yellow paint that zipped under the SUV like they were going lightspeed. A heavy sigh flattened his chest at the thought of the body in the back seat. 

Livia Herathinos had left them with quite a mess, but he was more interested in the trouble she’d been getting  herself  into. 

From what little of the business meeting had actually gone down, Zet had gathered that she was selling guns. More than that. She’d been selling military grade heavy weapons, or at least had that level of firepower in stock. Face time with her buyers had been short, but they’d seemed small time, with neither the funds nor need for that kind of arsenal. So what had that meeting  really  been about and why had they been ambushed? Had the hoods come for Livia, or her buyers?

Fuck. They were knee deep in it now, with no idea what the fuck they were wading through. 

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and took a slow, steadying breath. They’d deal with one thing at a time. First the body and the car had to disappear. Everything else could wait until after a hot shower, big meal, and some much needed shut eye. 

Shok had said it best: they’d deal with the rest in the AM. 

The SUV came to a stop in front of a canal not far from the Seagrave coastline, a ways away from the shipping yard, at a dock that saw so little traffic that the signs had all rusted over and the dock itself had collapsed with rot. There was an incline where one might back a boat into the water, and the advisory posted nearby suggested that doing so was a bad idea. This was so far off the beaten path that it’d probably be years before the SUV was discovered and, by then, there wouldn't be a scrap of evidence left to link Valo-Kas to this crime or anything else that had happened tonight. 

He pressed the start button to kill the engine, muttering, “Come on,” as he pushed his door open and stepped out of the vehicle. The door was left open as he moved for the back passenger seat. They’d have to move Livia into the driver’s seat before they wiped the whole thing down. 

While he hooked his hands under her arms and dragged her body from the backseat, Ozena felt under the seats and searched the compartments for the emergency roadside kit. It took a few minutes of impatient grousing and some frustrated snarls before she yanked a lumpy red satchel from a compartment in the trunk. Zet knew better than to comment and instead focused on situating the body in the driver’s seat and strapping it in. 

When Zen tossed him a pair of clear, latex gloves, he squeezed his fingers into them, watching as she did the same. She’d found a bottle of some hydrogen peroxide and tossed it to him, along with a packet of gauze. He tore it open for the woven pads inside and began to spray down anything he might have touched. 

In the back and the rest of the SUV, Ozena was doing the same. Since they had the time they did a thorough job of it, emerging nearly half an hour later confident that neither of them had left a trace of themselves behind. He glanced sidelong at his twin and frowned as what he saw made him turn his face to really look at her. 

She was covered in blood. Her hands, her clothes, even her face. She’d need to wash off before they hit the road again, would probably need to lose her shirt, too. The blood on her pants wasn’t as easy to spot on the dark wash denim. 

“Give me the gauze,” she growled instead of the ‘ what the fuck are you looking at? ’ he saw burning in her eyes. 

Zet handed it to her, along with the rest of what she’d given him, and watched her stalk over to the patchy shrubbery to kick up some dirt. Zen dug a shallow hole in the earth then dropped all their steril smelling and blood stained trash into it. Shrugging out of her cut, she held it out for him to take before pulling off her tank top to toss onto the pile. When she held out her hand it wasn’t her cut he placed into it, but his lighter. 

She lit up the last square of gauze and let it fall into the hole. It wasn’t long before everything inside was on fire.

This time when she held out her hand he returned her cut, watching wearily as she shoved her arms through the holes and adjusted its fit on her shoulders. Watching the fire burn away the evidence of their ever being in the SUV, Zen peeled off the latex gloves and tossed them into the flames. 

“Do you want to explain to me what that was earlier,” she demanded, still not tearing her scowl away from the small, makeshift fire pit at their feet. 

He folded his arms in front of himself. Nothing he said would be the right thing, but he tried a tenuous, “You’ll have to be more specific,” on for size and immediately regretted it. 

Zen’s flaying glare snapped onto him. She turned away from the fire to face him fully and hiss, “You almost died tonight, Ozet. For  her .” She threw a hand toward the SUV, gesturing at the dead body strapped in the driver’s seat. 

A deep breath filled his lungs and it he let it out slowly. He wet his lips before he dared to answer. “Sometimes the jobs we take are dangerous, Zen. You know that. It wasn’t a big deal.”

She shoved his chest then got in his face, teeth bared as fury flashed in her violet eyes. The same eyes as his. “The jobs we take aren’t worth your life.  She  wasn’t worth your life. You threw yourself between her and a machine gun and the  only  reason we’re not pushing you into the canal right along with her is because of me.”

Staring down at his sister, Zet searched her outraged expression for the fear he knew was behind it. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “What do you want to hear, Zen?” He shook his head in a curt side to side. “That I’m grateful? You know I am.”

“I want you to fucking think! For once just consider that your life is worth more than the paycheck that Tevinter bitch had cut us. You could have died tonight and it was almost for her. For  nothing .”

All he could do was shake his head again. “That’s the job, Zen.”

Again she shoved him, harder this time, and Zet forfeited a step to her anger. “The job is security, not pointless self sacrifice, you fucking idiot!” The fire flared brighter in her eyes and he thought that she might take a swing at him, but her jaw ticked and her nostrils flared and, after a second, all she did was shut her eyes, drop her chin, and shake her head, bumbling, “If something had happened to you…”

“Zen--”

Before he could try to comfort her, to reassure her that he was fine, they were both fine, the screeching howl of sirens tore through the night. They looked at each other and cursed as they moved, Zet to push the SUV into the canal and Zen to wash off as much of the blood as she could from her hands, forearms, and face. They’d also need to wipe down and get rid of their weapons, and their clothes were still bloodstained. 

There wasn’t enough time and he barely managed to push start the engine and throw the gear shift into neutral before a team of headlights closed in on them with a flash of red and blue lights. They didn’t even have time to run, not with how many cars had converged on them; they wouldn’t make it far if they tried. 

When a voice came on a megaphone, he and Ozena shared a look. He wanted to scream at her to run, but knew they’d just shoot her down before she could make it two steps. One look at the horns, at the blood covering them, and their guilt was decided. If they found out that she was a mage…

He stared pleadingly into her fearful eyes as he slowly lifted his hands and begged her to do the same. Maybe cooperation would buy them some good favor. The odds were stacked tall against them, but he couldn’t let anything happen to his sister. He’d do whatever he had to. They weren’t going to take her. He wouldn’t let them.

___

I hope you’re enjoying the read. Likes and reblogs would be -*chef’s kiss*-