#so like with the hat 1 launch they used the last moment to violently cover all the tracks (both by having metis ‘buy’ all the stocks

[modpoppy]

canon phantom: elaborate plot dating all the way to the start of the international space race and trickling down an increasing number of deaths as they follow some unknown path to someones ends which we never understand the extent of, only the devastation it leaves in its wake

ace assurance au phantom:

unfortunately, you own bitcoin (fatal)

[121distractions]

22- BANLIEUE (housing estates)

My years in college are of no use to me. I do not like what I am learning, I do not like the people I am learning with and I do not understand what I am doing there. All I want is to fuck, dance and get well dressed. I let others decide for me and I ended up with an economy bachelor’s degree and now I am trying to learn law. The law (except the history of law) and the economy, are boring me to death. I like to draw women’s shoes, pants or hats; but even for that, I do not take myself seriously, it is a hobby, it is not a job. One must do law when one do not know what to do because it leads to everything. Lawyers, clerks of notaries, bailiffs, they are characters from Balzac novels, it is not my future. The students, there, behave like fascists and are homophobic. They are surprised that I do not want to do “military preparations”. They spend every weekend at the barracks and when they will do their military service, they will already be officers. No, I will not be a just a stupid soldier, because my military service, I will not do it. The faith in which I grew up forbid to do military service, non-violence was basic. Objectors of conscience must spend twice as much time in prison as they would have spent in military service. When a “brother” went off to do his two years in prison, there was a farewell party, gifts and a lot of prayers. We were all very proud. Some made the effort to visit them in Fleury-Mérogis and had to share their experience on the stage with the microphone at the desk. Even if the speech was spontaneous and would not be judged, it was necessary to pay attention to the gesture, the contact with the auditory and the construction of the message. The prisoners’ letters were read in front of the whole congregation. New prayers would follow. I have never been to Fleury, I was too young. Faith has become superfluous to me, but disgust for the primitive male universe has remained. The uniforms are beautiful and the adventures of Jeff Stryker in prison are very exciting but nothing works, I would do anything to be discharged, P4, psychologically disturbed!

The lesson is really too annoying, Nathalie offers to go to her home to listen to records. Nathalie was Catherine’s best friend at the Émile Dubois High School. They wanted her to repeat her 11th grade so her parents put her in an expensive private school. Catherine partied too many with me and did not get her baccalaureate; I had it in extremis and so did Nathalie. We are now together studying law. Nathalie’s world is very different from Catherine’s. She also lives in a recent building of the 13th arrondissement, but not in a project. It is a residence with intercom. Nathalie uses only her particle for her name but on the bell, there is her full name “Brugerolle de Fraissinette” It does not leave much room for first names. I finally understand why sometimes she initials with a BdF. I never dared to ask. So chic! The apartment is huge but with low ceilings. It is dark, the Venetian blinds are just slightly open, Chinese furniture in black enamel occupy all the space. Nathalie’s mother is Eurasian of Vietnamese origin. She is very typical. Very skinny with a lot of very black hair, she is doing her nails with a small YSL bottle. She really looks like Eartha Kitt! She does not get up to say hello, she does not want to ruin her nail polish. Nathalie teaches me the word “quadroon”, Nathalie Brugerolle de Fraissinette is very proud to be quadroon. For me it sounds more like a descendant of Crusaders knights, but it just means she is a quarter Asian. Nobody could imagine it. Nathalie is a little round and very white, there may be in her eyes a little sign of bridle but you really have to know. The father is an engineer on an oil platform in Abu Dhabi and is never there. We head giggling down the hall. Eartha Kitt understands right away that it is not today that her daughter will finally have a boyfriend. Nathalie’s room is tiny, but she has, for herself, a compact Philips Hi-Fi with record player, FM radio and “auto-reverse” cassette player. She loves “Mad World” from Tears for Fears. I had the feeling that last week when I told her that I did not have the money to buy it, that she had never heard of it, I am intrigued. Will she offer it to me? No, she offers me to share her “Ham-mashed potatoes.” There are so few, I leave her the only calories that she is allowing herself. It is time to go to the Luco. I say it is a good idea but what is the Luco exactly? I keep that silly question for myself. “Au revoir Madame”. Eartha Kitt has a nail that worries her a lot and launches a “Goodbye, Philippe” without lifting her head. We prepare our orange cards, the metro pass for the zones 1 and 2. We have “the ticket chic and shock” as the advertisement says and we leave for the garden of the Luxembourg; the “Luco” in student lingo.

The cheapest orange card is always zone 1 and 2. Zone 1 is Paris “Intra Muros”, zone 2 is the very near suburbs. I know that the real Zone is Malakoff and everybody in the suburbs are zonards. Less than 50 years ago, the former site of the fortifications of Paris was a gigantic wasteland covered with shantytowns. The border of Malakoff had nothing to envy to the Brazilian favelas. I read Celine’s “Journey at the End of the Night” (but in the edition of the Pleiades) and the hell he describes is my suburb, it is Malakoff, gloomy and sordid. Malakoff is in Zone 2, what a luck, nothing differentiates me from real Parisians. Zone 3 is too much of shame! Zone 4, it may be well if you live in Versailles or Le Vésinet but zone 5 is again the horror. Anyway, I also know that leaving Malakoff means having to provide for myself, and I am not ready for it yet. I must still endure the stepfather.

In zone 3, there had been the year before Gilles. Gilles was only 16 years old, and I was not adult yet, we met in The Broad. He lived with his parents in Noisy-le-Sec. We waited until nine in the morning to have no one at my house in Malakoff. I was super tired but Gilles was very cute and a slut in bed. It was worth staying awake, three hours of fucking before having to go off again. I just had a single bed and it is in pretty jolly mood that I was driving Gilles in the big parental bed, the ultimate blasphemy. A bed made of rosewood with floral inlays, a legacy of Granny, the stepfather’s grandmother. After adding positions to the Kama-sutra, the sheets were not always very clean. We were leaving to the bathroom looking for a sponge, hot water and a hair dryer and it looked like nothing happened. It made us laugh so much. Gilles adored me, I think I was his first love. After a few weeks of our insomniac loves, I had to meet his best friends in Noisy. It was far but how to resist the curiosity to discover his home. Arriving in his housing estate, I had already the feeling that despite our identical proletarian social origins, our environments were very different. The north of Paris was much more “violent” than the south. My religious education had been very strict but had been an education. I had learned to read, alone, in conversation or in speech before an assembly, I had a vocabulary. Having read the Bible three times from top to bottom had eventually changed my view of the world. The representation of the blinds of Jericho by Nicolas Poussin in the Louvre, that was fascinating for me. Gilles’ 5 friends listened to rap that I never heard, … in French. They had looked at me, dismayed, I was just clean on me and a little classy. They wanted to shout, “Shit, what are you doing with a bougie?” but had only asked how we had met. It had not been a question, it had been an accusation. Gilles had tried to come out with me, but it was not going as planned. I had seen their universe collapse before their eyes, their childhood friend had just become a fag. Only the curvy girlfriend seemed a little interested in my presence and ready to adopt me. I had invented an excuse to slip away, … forever. It was really too complicated. If I had decided to disappear from Gilles’ life, he had not said his last word. I had found him back recently, more beautiful than ever, successively at the door of The Broad and then of Les Bouchons. He had seen me, talked in a low voice with the other bouncer and left a little while before allowing me to go inside. Was I dreaming? Another time, while Yves the door guy was alone, he told me he liked me but that I had not been nice with Gilles at all. He had been kicked out of his house after coming out, tried to reach me but I ignored him and he had very difficult moments. Now everything was better, but he was mad at me for it. I did not know yet that it would go even further. Two years later, he would have the main role in Jean-Daniel Cadinot’s new X movie “Under the sign of the Stallion” with, as a commercial, a beautiful picture of him in bleached blonde. I would watch the movie, but I would not recognize his cock, it was as if he had a stunt for the sex scenes. I knew his cock well enough! Later, he would die of AIDS, like everyone else. I DID NOT KILL GILLES! The suburbs killed Gilles.

Malakoff is still communist but more and more annexed by the capital. The Theater 71 is supposed to attract all the Parisian intelligentsia, the National Institute for Statistics has the largest building since 74 and the law section of the famous medical school Paris V is overflowing since 1976. Yes, I find myself in college 10 minutes walk from my home. Each train of the Métro delivers its hundreds of beautiful speakers apprentices but I arrive from the other side. I did not cross the ring. I hate not being Parisian. Jimmy Sommerville sings: “Run away, turn away, run away …” But how to survive? I think I am a suburbanite but I am wrong, I am already the worst Parisian. I suffocate as soon as I see these lamentable little pavilions and want to throw up in front of the projects. That is why, Gilles was not possible. My world is civilized, I do not get thrown out, it is me who decides when I go!

The stepfather, he works for TF1, the national television, in Paris rue Cognacq-Jay. He is a kind of a storekeeper. One day he brings back an ad from the collective notice board. A film director exchanges an independent room, not under the attic, in the 15th arrondissement for some hours of babysitting. Mom does not cry, Mom never cries, but she is sad. She did not see much of me anymore, but I was still living there. The former communist woman was so proud to have a son who was studying. Jimmy continues to sing: “You leave in the morning with everything you own in a little black case, Alone on a platform, the wind and the rain on a sad and lonely face”. I am not on the platform of a train station, but on the Métro platform and I am leaving only 3 kilometers away. I will come back for the Friday night dinners, those with the snails and the beautiful porcelain.

[closetofanxiety]

Beyond Wrestling: Americanrana 18

I got home after 1 a.m. today and woke up at 6 a.m. Then it was a full day of home improvement stuff. I’m tired. I’ve got ice on my bad foot. But I have some thoughts and impressions about the hottest US independent wrestling show of, uh, the month of July, at least. 

Big crowd: This was Beyond’s biggest live gate of all time, and at the same time the most-watched live stream in the young life of Powerbomb TV, AND the single event responsible for more new subscribers than anything else they’ve shown so far. At the venue, a Polish-American club in Worcester with oil paintings of the Old Country on the walls, people were berserk for almost everything that happened during the night. I don’t know how it came across on TV (or whatever, screen, I’m talking about watching it on a screen), but people were loud and excitable. Dan Barry got the biggest reaction Dan Barry has possibly ever had. People reacted to the surprise appearance of Anthony Green  like he was Mike Bailey, and they reacted to the surprise appearance of Mike Quackenbush like he was Steve Austin. It’s so much fun to be with a crowd of people who are just going nuts for professional wrestling.

Final appearance: Matt Riddle had what is almost certainly his last-ever Beyond Wrestling match, getting pinned by Nick Fuckin Gage during a tag match that pitted Gage and Matt Tremont (the New H8 Club) against Riddle and Filthy Tom Lawlor. It’s wild to think that a year ago he was putting his undefeated streak on the line in the main event at Americanrana 17, and this year he was in a mid-card tag match where he ate a pin. He’s headed for big things, though. Gage is great as the fan favorite, thanking people for willing him onto victory, and looking genuinely delighted when he got the pin. Awkward moment: the crowd, excited at the announcement that the winning team was now called “the New H8 Club,” started chanting “C-Z-Dub! C-Z-Dub!” despite Gage having gone over to bitter rivals GCW and Tremont wrestling his final CZW match on Saturday night. Just chant “Nick Fuckin Gage! Nick Fuckin Gage!” Speaking of which ...

Working blue: This was the sweariest Beyond Wrestling show I can remember for some time. They had pregame interviewers with Wrestling Social Media Personality Alicia Atout in front of a fancy Beyond/Powerbomb backdrop, and Janela and ring announcer Rich Palladino, of all people, kept using the word “fuck” like a comma. Kids in the room, gentlemen! 

Unpopular Opinion #1: I like intergender wrestling a lot, but in order for it to become a normal part of pro wrestling, promotions and wrestlers have to stop loudly drawing attention to the fact that THEY AREN’T AFRAID TO HAVE INTERGENDER WRESTLING, DAMN IT. The opening match on the show was a terrifically fun four-on-four pitting Team Pazuzu against “Team WWR”: Kimber Lee, Jordynne Grace, Mia Yim, and Skylar. It was fun and crazy, as you’d expect from that cast of characters, and Skylar did a good job of keeping up with wrestlers who are much more experienced and established than she is. But then after the match, Chris Dickinson cut a promo about how HE RESPECTS THESE GIRLS SO GODDAMN MUCH AND INTERGENDER WRESTLING IS HERE TO STAY. Good! I like that! But the more you act like it’s some remarkable anomaly, the more people are going to treat it like that. It’s just another variety of match, like tag team wrestling.

Oh, also: There was a GREAT moment in the match where Dickinson was about to give Jordynne Grace a Pazuzu Bomb, but she was saved by Kimber Lee, who then stared Dickinson down. This was a callback to the spot in Beyond years ago where Dickinson waffled Lee with a chair and then hit her with a crazy Pazuzu Bomb in a clip that went viral and gave both of them some not-entirely-wanted exposure to the wider world. The crowd, happily, recognized this immediately and went APESHIT. I loved it!

Loco spotfests: There was an announced four-way tag match with Team Tremendous, the Gentlemen’s Club, the Beaver Boys, and the recently renamed Massage Force. There was also an unannounced Chikara showcase, with Solo Darling, Fire Ant, someone working a “Dasher Hatfield’s kid” gimmick, and Quack himself against a Dungeon of Doom-esque cast of characters. Also Travis Huckabee. I honestly groaned when I heard “Chikara showcase,” but they tore down the house. Quackenbush may be a guy who talks like Darril and wants to turn wrestling into TED Talk fodder, but he’s one of the most important US indie wrestlers of all time, and I had never seen him wrestle in person before. At one point, a sea creature or maybe the Gimp or someone picked Quackenbush up by his feet and heaved him backwards over the rope, and he sailed higher and farther than any person I’ve ever seen launched out of a wrestling ring. It was just a hugely fun match, and the four-way tag managed to top it. There was no “storytelling” or “psychology” in either match, and honestly, that’s fine for a big-spectacle show like Americanrana. Just have a bunch of talented people come out and do stuff they don’t normally do in a show, and go wild.

The plot thickens: The big news from the four-way tag is Dan Barry’s betrayal of beloved partner Bill Carr (there was a loud, enthusiastic chant of “Bill Carr fucks! Bill Carr fucks!” after the big man launched himself through the ropes. “Oh my God, I love it! I love it, you guys!” he yelled back. He is like a big happy golden retriever and it’s impossible to think negatively about him). Betrayals don’t always work on the indie level, and I’ve seen my share of partners turning on partners that are greeted with shrugs by the crowd, but people went NUTS after Barry screwed over Carr. A louder, more sustained negative reaction than I’ve ever heard in Beyond. Should be a hot feud! In further plot twists, MJF was injured and couldn’t wrestle Gresham in their blowoff, so Trent was drafted as a surprise Dream Team member. The match ended in a DQ and Gresham roughed up Stokely Hathaway while MFJ watched helplessly from the outside. THIS SETTLED NOTHING. Presumably. 

Unpopular Opinion #2: I think PCO’s run as the TV veteran who has inexplicably become an indie darling is nearing its conclusion. I also think that run does not sit as well on PCO’s shoulders as it would Gangrel. It should be Gangrel out there, getting the big paydays and the crazy receptions from crowds. PCO does not have a lot in his toolbox, if I’m being honest. He had a sloppy, overlong match with Brian Cage that was full of blown spots and awkward pauses. Let’s all focus on Gangrel from now on. 

A new favorite: I’ve done a total 180 on “Hot Sauce” Tracy Williams, who used to bore me to distraction. I really like him now. I think it’s because I’ve heard him on commentary a bunch, and he reminds me of friends who lived in squats and punk houses in the 1990s but who now live in Brooklyn and have respectable jobs in the low six figures, but who are still capable of smashing a bottle in the face of a Nazi skinhead. 

Mayhem: What can I say about the main event, a no-ropes barbed wire death match between David Starr and Joey Janela, to settle a feud that’s been simmering on and off for years? It was extremely violent and bloody. It lasted 22 minutes but felt like 10. Starr won, and cut an absolutely searing promo afterward, calling Janela “a glorified stuntman” who only came to prominence because someone else made goofy Internet videos about him; seriously, it’s one of the best promos I’ve heard an indie wrestler give. Bile and bitterness from a man covered in his own blood; there would be no Triple H Handshake of Respect between these two gladiators.

Grace notes: This was the most efficiently run Americanrana I’ve ever attended. The doors were supposed to open at 6:30, and they opened EARLY. An indie show! This was good, but it trapped one of my friends outside, because he had gone to a bar, assuming it would take forever to get inside the building. I mean, he made it in eventually, he just had to wait at the back of the line ... There was a nice shoutout to Dominki Dijakovicokowiczogonov, gone but not forgotten from Beyond: during his match with AR Fox, Anthony Greene did the Feast Your Eyes and hit Dijakulakovich’s poses while the crowd chanted “Feast Your Eyes! Feast Your Eyes!” ... Chuck Taylor hit a Rainmaker during the four-way tag match and screamed “This one’s for you, Little Kazu!,” which is a reference to an ongoing Twitter joke that I’m almost ashamed to have recognized ... I bought a hat from David Starr and we talked about the need for national healthcare, which is a conversation topic that wouldn’t work with most wrestlers .... I don’t know why or how they do it, but Americanrana really feels special. Everyone seems to raise their game for the show, and the fans are really in a holiday mood. It’s not a show I ever want to miss ... The crowd went from skepticism over the Chikara wrestlers - one guy grunted, “Fuckin’ Vince Russo gimmicks” when the bad guys came out - to joyous acceptance, capped when the same guy yelled at the sea monster character, “Look at this big green bastard! How’s he able to breathe on land?” ... One of my favorite parts of the day was sitting in the bar downstairs while they broke down the ring and set up the barbed wire. Just seeing a bunch of the wrestlers relaxing and enjoying themselves, having a (non-alcoholic) drink with my friend Mike, enjoying the air conditioning on a summer night: this was a good night ... after the show, we stopped at a service plaza on the Masss Pike to get some unhealthy snacks and use the bathroom, and on our way in we passed Solo Darling. “Great match tonight,” we said. “Thank you!” she said. On our way out, we passed a much less happy Solo Darling as she walked over to the counter to give the McDonald’s people hell. “I distinctly said no cheese on ...” she began, as we hurried out. 

Final thought: There was a 20 or 25 minute break before the main event, where they set up the barbed wire and all that. Mike and I went downstairs to the bar while Mark stayed up in the hall. The first person we saw in the bar, sitting by himself at one end, was David Starr. He was hunched over a glass of water and a shot glass and staring into the middle distance, at nothing in particular. In a few minutes, he was going to walk upstairs and wrestle the most violent match of his career in front of 500 people and you could see the concern on his face as he went over the possibilities: barbed wire, steel chairs, staple guns, cinder blocks, baseball bats. One spot that goes a little sideways and someone leaves the building in an ambulance. That glimpse of David Starr brooding put the whole night - put all of wrestling, really - into perspective. This wasn’t an angle, this wasn’t a promo, he wasn’t in character: this was a man working up the courage to do something reckless and potentially dangerous because he wanted to do it more than anything in the world. It was the look of a man who has willingly taken a great weight onto his shoulders, as many of us have, or will have to one day. It was a wordless rejoinder to all those snide comments about how wrestling is fake: looking at David Starr’s face, sitting alone and being left alone by his friends and peers, his staring eyes showing exactly what he was prepared to do, one thing was clear to anyone who was paying attention - nothing is more real than wrestling.

[avaalons]

Chris Evans Fic: Outnumbered (2 of 2)

Okay, here we go! Part 2, and probably the last thing I’ll put in the ‘Four Kids’ verse for a while, just so I can get my other WIPs finished off.

Just a warning, this is very, very NSFW 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Enjoy!

*** The next morning, you awoke fairly late after the patchy sleep you’d had during the night. Even so, this was unusual for you since the kids didn’t tend to sleep in. The bed was empty apart from you but Chris’ side still had that tell tale warmth that indicated he hadn’t been gone long.

You still felt exhausted from the stress of yesterday and its ensuing argument, Chris’ words niggling in the back of your mind as you hauled yourself upright and threw your legs over the side of the mattress, planting your feet on the soft carpet. Your eyes were heavy and the groggy fog of lack of sleep swirled around you.

Part of you didn’t want to go downstairs at all, wanted to leave Chris with the kids and hide upstairs all day, just for an opportunity to regain some semblance of sanity. But, you knew that eventually one or two or all of them would come looking for you. So after a quick visit to the bathroom, you pulled your thin robe over your short pyjama set and padded down the staircase, fluffy slippers adorning your feet.

And what you saw downstairs in the kitchen surprised you a little, it was true. The kids were sat at the breakfast table, each on a stool apart from Connor who was in his high chair, watching intently and with amusement, their father flipping Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes across the kitchen island, applauding and laughing when he managed it. All turned to look at you as you entered.

‘Morning Momma!’ Freya was the first to call out. ‘Daddy’s making us pancakes!’

‘I can see!’ You answered her back animatedly. You continued over to him and, with a hand gently and tentatively resting on his lower back, spoke quietly in his ear. ‘It’s been a long time since you did this.’

He at least had the decency to look a little sheepish as he admitted, ‘I think I’ve probably got some making up to do today.’

You tilted your chin upwards in acknowledgement just as Grace called out to you, ‘Sit down with us mom, you can have pancakes too!’

'Should you be eating pancakes this morning baby?’ You referred to her sickness bug from the previous day. Moving over to her, you placed a hand on her forehead, judging her temperature.

'I feel better today,’ she assured you desperately, not wanting to miss out on pancakes.

'Hmm, your temperature has come down and you’ve got some colour back in your face. Are you sure you haven’t felt sick this morning?’

'I’m sure! Promise!’

'Okay then, but go easy. Have a banana first.’

Grace obediently hopped down from her stool to retrieve a banana from the fruit bowl as you sat down on the spare stool, bemusedly watching the elaborate performance Chris was putting on for the kids and feeling the tension that had been plaguing you ebbing away somewhat. How could you stay angry at him when he was wearing a chef’s hat and an apron that had 'No. 1 Grillmaster’ on it? He had been born to be a father and he was excellent at it. No one could look at him now and think he regretted his family.

The kids watched the show and each time a pancake was successful, he placed it in the warming drawer of the oven and when he’d used up all the batter, he served them on to plates and laid all manner of fruit, yoghurt and syrup accompaniments on the island so that the children could help themselves.

You all sat down to eat together, Chris chopping up Connor’s pancakes and fruit on his high chair tray so that he could enthusiastically eat his breakfast with his fingers. As the kids chatted happily, you couldn’t help but feel a little… cynical really. All of yesterday’s chaos seemed to have vanished and there was a tiny part of you that resented how easy he made it look, how it made everything that happened yesterday seem completely trivial.

Part way through, Mason piped up, 'Dad, can we tell mom about her surprise?’

You raised an eyebrow and looked at Chris quickly, 'Surprise?’

Chris just gave you a small, and, what you interpreted as an ever-so-slightly smug smile, 'If you want to, go ahead buddy.’

'So, after breakfast today, Dad said we can go bowling but we thought that you might like some relax time so you’re going to the spa. I heard Dad on the phone this morning and he’s booked you some treatments!’ Mason was clearly excited about bowling, having seemingly forgotten his feelings of being left out from yesterday.

'I’m going on a spa afternoon? And you’re all going bowling together?’ You indicated to the five of them with your index finger. Five identical smiling nods bobbed in front of you.

'Right,’ you tried to keep your voice light as you wiped your hands on a napkin and laid your knife and fork atop your empty plate, 'I better go and get ready then.’

You pushed your chair back, turned on your heel and left without another word, fleeing upstairs where you could be frustrated in private.

But, it wasn’t to be. Chris followed you shortly after, having picked up on your frosty attitude.

'Babe, help me out here, is there something going on? You seem…not happy with anything this morning. Did you want to come bowling with us? I thought you would have liked a few hours to yourself today.’

You were pacing the bedroom, getting more and more worked up as you went, fists clenched at your sides.

And then it all came tumbling out of your mouth in a torrent that you just couldn’t halt.

'It’s just so easy for you, isn’t it?! You make them some pancakes, take them out for the day, keep them happily entertained for an afternoon. Being Dad is easy peasy.’

'I’m always the moody, stressed out one that’s snapping at them because I’m dealing with the day to day shit. All their bickering, the days when they’re naughty, their strops, their illnesses, their grumpiness when they’ve not slept well, the school runs, the lunches, the laundry. I basically work for them, and you just get to swan in and do the fun stuff.’

'It’s like everything I go through everyday, trying to raise four kids, is just trivial when you’re around, because you don’t see it. You had four perfect little cherubs sat in front of you this morning. You came in last night and a couple of words from you had them all sorted and tucked in bed asleep after I’d been trying to do the same thing, without success, for a solid hour.’

'I feel like - like - like a maid in this house more than a mom or a wife!’

You sat on the edge of the bed as you finished your tirade, worn out from letting go of all the bottled up frustration.

Chris was still and silent for a moment, probably trying to process what he’d just heard, before slowly sitting down next to you.

'I… had no idea you felt that way,’ he admitted quietly.

You didn’t know what to say to that without causing an argument, so you stayed quiet.

'I’m sorry that I’ve unknowingly contributed to this,’ he continued, 'I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought we all needed some cheering up today.’

'It’s not just today, Chris,’ you told him wearily, 'Whether we meant to or not, we’ve somehow stopped being a parenting team and fallen into the trap of being good cop and bad cop.’

His hand snaked to yours, clasping it firmly, 'I guess I thought you had it all covered. You’re so good at being a mom that the more kids we added to the family, the less you needed me to fix things, because we’d done it all before.’

You shook your head violently, 'No, I don’t need things fixing all the time, but I still need your support, and not just when they’re being little angels.’

Chris went into solving mode, 'So how do we get back on track then? What’s the solution? Do I need to work less now? Projects that are closer to home and that take me away less?’

You shook your head, 'I’ve never wanted you to sacrifice your career for us.’

'Baby, it’s not a sacrifice. This is our family we’re talking about. Number one priority.

But you think you knew what the solution was. It wasn’t the family or the kids that were the problem, it was you.

'I actually think it’s me that needs to make a change,’ you began, and Chris squeezed your hand tighter, 'I think I need to go back to work. When we go back to LA after the summer.’

You could see the cogs turning in the expression on Chris’ face and he began nodding slowly, 'It makes sense. Connor’s in nursery now, the rest are in school. We can get a nanny. I can cut back a bit so there’s more wiggle room in our schedules….’

'I think I just need that little bit of my identity back and I would have gone back earlier, except we kept having more kids and it never seemed the right time.’

'Sweetheart, if this is what you want to do, then I’m on board one hundred per cent. You want to go back to Victoria’s Secret?’

You nodded, 'I’ve kept my contacts there. I’m not sure in what capacity they’ll have me back as a model, but I’m still relevant enough, thanks to my Hollywood husband,’ you nudged him with your shoulder, 'to be able to launch my own underwear line in collaboration if I wanted. There’s ambassador roles too, presenting roles, there’s a lot of stuff I could turn my hand to. My walking days might be over but photo shoots and catalogues will probably still be open to me.’

'Babe, you’re hot as hell, if you wanted to walk, I think they’d put you on that runway before you could blink. You can do anything you want. Call them tomorrow and get some meetings set up for when we’re back in LA. I’ll start putting the feelers out for childcare and I’ll talk with my lot about what the next couple of years are going to look like for me.’

You felt like a huge weight had been lifted from your shoulders and you leant into him.

'Thank you,’ you whispered.

'There’s nothing to thank me for. I just wish I’d picked up on this.’

'You’re not a mind reader, Chris. And I think I’ve only truly realised it myself in the last couple of days,’ you tilted your head to look up at him from where you were cradled against his shoulder and he smiled down at you before pressing his lips to yours, both of you lighter and happier now the air had been cleared and you had a plan in place.

Just then, a loud crash that made you jump followed by a raucous laughter was heard from downstairs.

'Jesus, what have they done now?’ you smiled against his mouth.

'I’ll go and sort them out. I’ll do my best to be bad cop,’ he gave your hand a final squeeze before standing up from the bed, 'So did you want to go to the spa or did you want to come bowling?’

'Are you joking? Babe, they are all yours today. I literally can’t wait to be lay down in silence with a hot, young, shirtless man rubbing oil into my skin,’ you grinned at him as you headed towards the bathroom.

'Damnit, I should have thought this through,’ Chris joked as he left, but lifted the hem of his shirt up as he backed out of the room to show his still-impressive abs, raising one eyebrow in question, 'Hotter than this?’

'Tease. You know I can’t do anything about it now,’ the loud laughter of your children was still ringing through the house.

'Later,’ he promised in a whisper with a wink before fleeing the room to go and assess the situation downstairs.

You smiled to yourself as you climbed into the shower, his promise dancing around your mind.

***

The spa had been blissful and just what you needed after the emotional rollercoaster of yesterday and that morning. You felt rejuvenated and positive as you climbed in your car to drive yourself home, ready to get home and spend an evening with your husband and your children. It was a warm evening and, with Chris’ 'No. 1 Grillmaster’ apron still in mind, you thought getting Chris to fire up the outdoor grill on the patio would be the best way to finish off the weekend.

But when you stepped through the front door, it seemed extraordinarily quiet in the house. Thinking the kids and Chris might be outside, you walked through to the kitchen to check the garden out of the back doors. You found, however, Chris in the kitchen by himself, sautéing something in a pan over the stove and, looking out of the floor to ceiling bi-fold doors, you could see there were no children in the back yard. Where were they?

'Hey sweetheart,’ you greeted him, confusion filtering through your voice as you approached him. You were close enough now to see the chicken pieces he was manoeuvring around the heavy-bottomed pan. There was a pot of spaghetti bubbling away on the back of the stove too.

'Hey baby,’ he pulled you towards his side, free arm that wasn’t cooking chicken wrapping around your shoulders. He planted a kiss on your forehead as you slid a hand across his back, the other resting against his chest, 'I didn’t hear you come in.’

'Did you have a good day? Did you leave the kids at the bowling alley?’ you joked.

'I was close, but no, I brought them all home in one piece,’ he smirked back.

'Oh.’ you were no closer to finding out what was going on, 'So where are they? It’s unnervingly quiet here.’

'Well, after bowling, we came back and packed up some overnight things and now they’re all at my mom’s,’ he announced casually, still moving chicken around the pan.

'All of them?’ you clarified, pulling back a little to look at his face and check he wasn’t joking. 'There are no kids in this house?’

'Nope,’ he popped the P, clearly proud of himself, 'Not a single child. All night.’

'And you’re cooking? For us?’ Hope and excitement filled your voice.

'Yep. It’s just carbonara but I figured we needed some fuel food to keep us going.’

You knew where he was going with this but decided to play dumb as you innocently enquired, 'Keep us going at what?’

He pulled his attention away from his cooking then , grinning cheekily, 'Just you wait, Mrs Evans. Now go and sit at the table in the dining room while I plate this up. The sooner we eat, the sooner I can get you naked for the best make up sex you’ve ever had in your life.’

***

The food had been delicious, and Chris had laid the table so that you were seated next to each other on a corner. He’d set out flowers and candles and he ate with one hand resting on your thigh. Occasionally, he would lean in close and tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear or use his thumb to wipe away a spot of creamy sauce from the corner of your mouth, but he was in constant contact with you throughout the meal.

Chris was, it had to be said, always incredibly tactile but at this moment in particular, his touches were just an extended round of foreplay. The atmosphere was tense, but not like it had been yesterday and this morning. The air was filled with anticipation. Excitement bubbled in your lower belly as you ate and touched and chatted and flirted.

When you had finished, Chris carried out the plates and the cutlery back to the kitchen, determined you weren’t going to do a single thing, but you followed him out quietly and wrapped your arms around his middle, your front flush against his back, as he stacked the items on the counter near the sink.

'Thank you,’ you mumbled into his back. You could smell the light scent of his cologne through the soft material of his shirt.

He turned around in your arms, lifting them up by the wrists to wrap around his neck. His own hands gripped your hips and pulled you gently to him as he leaned against the counter.

'You’re more than welcome,’ he drew his face close to yours, mouth hovering only an inch from your lips as he spoke, before closing the gap between you. Your fingers creeped up the back of his neck and into his hair, keeping him pressed to you, as you kissed him fiercely, pouring all of the emotion of the last couple of days into it.

His tongue swept your bottom lip lightly and his hands began to wander over the material of the snug tshirt dress you wore, caressing your lower back and down to cup your backside, all the while his lips covering yours in a perfect fit.

It wasn’t long before his fingers began to tug the material of your dress upwards to reveal the skin of your upper thighs and your ass and his mouth began to pepper kisses down your neck.

You sneaked your own fingers under the hem of his shirt and ran them lightly over his back and around to his ribs as he left hot, open mouthed kisses just under your ear, the sensation sending tingles down your spine.

Your hands went up and up until his got the idea and pulled back to reach behind and remove his shirt over his head with one hand.

'Better?’ he grinned as you ran your fingers up and over his defined chest.

'Much.’

You hooked a hand around his neck and pulled his mouth back to yours, arching your back into him and pressing your hips to his as you went.

He walked you backwards until you bumped the kitchen island behind you and he pinned you there with his hips, his hands gripping the edge of the counter, your hands gripping his biceps. You could feel your body temperature rising rapidly and you still had all your clothing on.

When his fingers went back to your lower half, running a pattern from your ass to your back to your hips, you decided you just wanted it all gone now.

'Take it off,’ you demanded against Chris’ mouth, 'All of it.’

'Yes ma'am,’ he cheekily saluted before shimmying his hands under the material of your dress and sliding it up and up before tugging it over your head. You shook your hair out, feeling freer, and Chris instantly dropped to his knees, running his mouth and nose along the lace of your panties from hip to hip, teasing you. His palms gripped your hips, keeping you firmly in place as his mouth finally dipped lower, spreading heat through your core.

He hooked his index fingers in either side of the lace and pulled the material down, past your knees and then lifted up each leg by the ankle so he could unhook them from your feet, cool air hitting where you had been so warm and wet.

Chris nudged your knees further apart to give himself better access and ran one teasing finger from your clit to your entrance and back again, spreading your wetness with it. Circling your clit once, twice, he then went lower, dipping a finger into your heat and back out again, setting up a maddening circuit. He gazed at you, fascinated, watching his finger trail from place to place, building your pleasure every time he passed Go.

You threaded your fingers into his hair and closed your eyes, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth as you focused on Chris’ ministrations and the coil slowly unraveling low in your abdomen. Eventually, he added a second finger inside you and set up a lazy, pulsing rhythm, changing the angle of penetration ever so slightly each time, building the sensation, hitting different nerve endings with each slide.

Your breath was hitching in gasps and when his mouth closed over your clit, you barely needed three swirls of his tongue before your legs were shaking and you were clamping involuntarily around his fingers.

'Oh, I wish I hadn’t waited until the last second to put my mouth on you. I want to taste you some more.’

You were still catching your breath, your muscles still pulsing around the fingers inside you when he withdrew from you quickly, stood up and lifted you up by the hips so that your bare ass landed on the cool surface of the counter. He pushed you back so that the V of your legs was level with his mouth when he leaned over and, cupping your ass with his hands to tilt your hips towards him, his mouth was on you again, this time mercilessly fast.

'Chris - I can’t - I’ve only just -’ you tried to sit up but your jelly-like muscles wouldn’t comply.

'You can baby, you can come for me again,’ the reverberations of his voice rumbled through your centre, igniting the beginnings of a new flame inside you, and then he was back, sucking, kissing, swirling, probing with his tongue like his life depended on it. His beard only added to the pleasure, tickling your sensitive flesh wherever his mouth went. Your feet scrabbled against the edge of the counter, trying to find purchase to propel your hips even closer to his mouth but he simply hooked your knees over his shoulders and held your thighs firmly with his hands. You were captive as he teased your second orgasm to the surface.

After you’d already felt his fingers inside you, though, you just wanted that feeling of being full again and, not wanting to come without it, used all your core strength to pull yourself up, place a hand on each side of Chris’ head and tilt his face up to you. It was a battle of wills but you were going to win this one.

'Get those pants off now. I don’t want to come again unless you’re inside me.’

He nodded and stood, unbuckling his belt, popping the button and pulling trousers and snug boxers off in one smooth motion. You moved to the edge of the counter and hopped down in front of him, wrapping your hand around his cock and pumping it gently a few times, before turning around so your back was to him.

He knew instantly what you wanted and brought his hips to your ass, pinning you again between him and the counter. He swept all of your hair over to one side, running kisses up and down your exposed neck and shoulders, using a knee to nudge one leg then the other so he could snake a hand between your bodies and guide his sensitive head through your heat, coating himself in the aftermath of your first orgasm.

'You want to go hard or slow for this one?’ He spoke into your ear, low and gravelly.

You barely recognised your own voice when you replied. The things he did to you.

'We’ve got all night to go slow. For this one, I want you to fuck me into next week. I want to be sore tomorrow and know that you did that, right here against the kitchen counter.’

He sucked in a breath at that, 'Jesus baby, you’re killing me here.’

His hips had set up a slight thrust against your ass and his head glided across your clit. You knew that if you closed your legs, clamping him with your inner thighs, you could make him come in barely any time at all and you could watch him spurt white and glistening all over your thighs. But maybe later. Right now, you really needed him inside you as soon as possible.

A hand at your mid back told you that you were about to get what you wanted as Chris snapped open the clasp of your bra and let the straps fall off your shoulders. You threw the garment away and let out an excited giggle as he applied enough pressure to your shoulder to bend your compliant body forward until your breasts were pressed into the cold counter, the feeling against your nipples a shock to the system after being so warm everywhere else.

'You won’t be giggling in a second if I have anything to do with it,’ his voice was practically a growl at this point; you knew how much he loved taking you in this position. You felt him pull back slightly, a hand ghosting over the skin of your hips and backside, and you knew he was taking a moment to admire your ass. You gave your hips a gratuitous wiggle, just for him, and encouraged him to hurry up.

'Please baby, don’t leave me hanging.’

'Just another second while I ogle my beautiful wife’s backside.’

You felt his lips against one ass cheek and then the other before he positioned himself, lining himself up at your slick entrance, circling with his tip and teasing you.

Then, without warning, Chris sheathed himself fully in one swift movement, pressing you into the counter and shunting your body forward, nipples dragging on the counter. Your mouth dropped open, eyes scrunched closed, and the two of groaned in unison. This is what you had wanted, the feeling of him filling you completely.

He let you adjust for a second or two and then set up his pace: fast and relentless, pounding away, hitting you with his cock deep inside with each thrust. You could feel him jutting his hips out towards you, arching his back away to get a better view and, in your mind’s eye, you could see what he was looking at. You could imagine Chris looking down at your legs and ass spread wide, your back straight at ninety degrees, his dick disappearing into you over and over again and coming out each time even wetter than before.

It didn’t take long before you could feel your body climbing towards orgasm and you clawed at the counter, your fingers finding nothing to grip on to against the smooth surface and having to make do with splaying out wide on the granite. You kept your legs as straight as possible, the angle helping Chris hit your g-spot each time. His rhythm was faltering slightly, favouring speed over elegance, and you knew he was close to the edge, your own climax just beginning to unfurl, but you wanted, more than anything, to topple over into ecstasy with him simultaneously.

'Chris - baby - touch me, please,’ you all but sobbed, feeling wanton and vulnerable but absolutely safe with your husband. He knew what you needed and he reached around, thrusts never letting up, to press two fingers against your clit, sliding against it, soaked as you were.

Your muscles tensed, your body preparing itself to shatter, and then you were both there, a high pitched keening leaving you and a deep guttural moan leaving Chris, explosions of nerve endings everywhere. You felt him collapse against you, one arm wrapping under your body and around your hips as he still thrust shallowly, almost animalistic, against you, milking everything he had into you, as he had done many times before, your body receiving it gladly as you came down from glorious heights.

You don’t know how long you lay there, spent and wrung out, as Chris peppered kisses across your back but he eventually withdrew, sliding out of you with ease. He pulled you up to standing and hooked an arm under your knees, your own arms instinctively winding around his neck.

You planted kisses along his jaw as he walked through the house, towards the stairs, admiring his flushed cheeks and knowing that you were the reason. He would glance down and give you a smile and a shake of the head every so often but mainly he focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

'What are you shaking your head at?’ you fished for information, wanting to know what was going on inside his head.

'You know how people think it’s so adorable that penguins and seahorses mate for life, mainly because it happens so infrequently among humans?’ Chris explained as he lay you gently atop the bed sheets in your bedroom. You simply nodded in reply.

'I was just thinking - you are definitely my penguin. Like, I’m really sorry, but you’re stuck with me for life,’ he lay down next to you, pulling your naked body to his, not able to get close enough it seemed.

You laughed, sated and euphoric, nuzzling into his neck, letting his beard scratch your skin, 'Only you would be thinking about penguins at a time like this. But I take your point. I think you’re right Evans, I think we are penguins, or seahorses, we’re together forever, 'til death do us part, I’m with you until the end-’

'You dare finish that quote and you can wave goodbye to any more orgasms tonight.’

You pretended to zip your lips, lock them and throw away the key and Chris nodded at your, in his opinion, good decision making, laying back against the pillows and closing his eyes while your fingertips swirled on his chest.

'Chris?’

'Hmm?’ he sounded sleepy.

'I hate fighting with you but I fucking love having make up sex with you.’

He lifted his head from the pillow, grinning smugly, 'I know, right? But babe, do you mind if we have a nap before round two? I’m not as young as I used to be.’

'Literally, nothing would make me happier. I’ll wake you up in a little while. Probably with your dick in my mouth, if you like.’

'Jesus. Yes, yes I would like. Very much.’

You threw your leg over his hip, your bodies pressed together, and pressed a kiss to his collarbone before letting your eyes drift shut.

[50funny]

Mage:Chapter 51- Beginning A New Search

Written By 50Funny

Part 1- Starting The Search

Liz, Bip, and Alex slowly dragged themselves down the bustling streets, their eyelids darkened and body slouched over. Liz raised her hand to her eyes and began to gently rub before turning and looking to Alex.

“These early morning and late nights are really starting to get the best of me,” Liz said.

Alex’s mouth began to stretch open mimicking Liz’s yawn.

“I get what you mean, I'm exhausted,” Alex mumbled through the yawn.

“You’d be tired no matter what so don’t complain,” Bip replied in a croaky tone.

Alex and Liz bother turned to look at Bip surprised by his aggressive demeanor.

“Where did that come from?” Asked Liz as she met Bip's grumpy, sunken eyes.

“I get grumpy when I’m tired.”

Alex and Liz looked back down the road as they walked, seeing the yellow tape of the cleanup sight getting closer. The sight had been nearly picked entirely bare leaving only a few large chunks of rubble scattered around behind the tape. A group of workers wearing hard hats and high viz gear sat around some of the heavy moving equipment eating their lunch.

The group ducked under the tape and walked towards the workers. One of the workers turned around revealing himself as the man who the group had talked to before.

“Oh god not this lot again,” the man mumbled under his breath.

“Yo old man, you know them?” another one of the workers asked.

“Yeah something like that, just let me do the talking ok.”

The man stood up as the group reached him.

“Ahh there’s my favorite group of Mage’s, what brings you back here today,” the man asked.

Liz let out another yawn as she began to talk, mumbling her words to the point incoherence.

“We wanna find out more about that curse you told us about,” Alex said.

“Oh, sorry but I told you everything I know already.”

“that’s why we wanted to find that guy you were telling us about, the one whose kid you said got taken away,” Bip chimed in.

“you mean Benno? He took some time off to sort out his life,” One of the other workers chimed in.

The man turned around to his coworker with a scolding glare before turning back to face Liz, Bip, and Alex.

“Ahh, you must mean Benno… he’s taken some time off after everything that happened to him. If you wanna find him he lives on Neejns road, number 25 I think. Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t talk too much though, last time I sore him he seemed pretty down in the dumps,”

Alex and Liz look at each other before turning around and walking back the way they had come. Alex raised his hand and waved as they walked off.

“Thanks… that’s all we needed.”

The man turned around to face his companion.

“You idiot, those were mages, you need to be more careful around them,” the man said in a hushed tone.

Liz focused her ears towards the man as she continued to walk away.

“You have no idea how dangerous they can be,” He continued

Part 2- Getting The Inside Scoop

Liz, Alex, and Bip stood in front of a small building that seemed quite and completely devoid of any signs of life. The windows had been covered up with dark sheets from the inside and several pains of glass in the frames had been smashed.

“What a hovel, you really think someone’s Living here?” Asked Liz.

“Guess there’s only one way to find out,” Alex said as he began to walk towards the house.

Liz and Bip followed Alex as he reached the front door of the house. He raised his fist and gently knocked it against the door. After a few moments of waiting Alex's eyebrows narrowed before he once again raised his hand and knocked again, louder and more vigorously. After a few seconds, more of knocking Alex lowered his hand and let out a loud huff.

“Guess no one’s home,” said Bip.

Liz lightly pushed Alex aside and raised her hand to knock.

“I’m coming I'm coming,” came a groggy voice from inside after a few moments.

Liz turned to look smugly at Alex.

“You got lucky.”

There was a slow shuffling from behind the door followed by a loud thud. The sound of locks being unlocked began to sound off one after another. After a few second the door violently pulled open before quickly coming to a stop leaving a small crack in it. An awful odor came pouring out from the crack in the door before a thin man with a sunken expression popped his head up to look at the group.

“Who the hell are you?” the man slurred in a deep, groggy voice.

“You’re Benno right? We’re Mages with the guild of the silver sun… were here to ask you a few questions about your son?” Liz spluttered out, avoiding inhaling the foul air coming from inside.

The man scanned the pair up and down intently before slamming the door in their faces, leaving the group somewhat confused. The sound of more locks being unlocked. The door once again came swinging open revealing the man behind wearing a stained white shirt several sizes too big for him.

“Come in come in make yourselves at home,” the man said, gesturing for the group to follow as he walked deeper into the house.

The group looked to each other with concern before following the man into his house. Liz glanced around the dimly lit room only illuminated by the glinting off of the countless empty bottles strewn across the floor. The man continued to stumble his way towards his lounge before turning around and falling backward onto his couch.

“So… what can I do for you three today,” the man continued as he grabbed a half-finished bottle from between his couch cushions and began sipping on it.

“We need some information on the curse that took your son away.”

“Ha… yeah right,” Benno chuckled as he took a sip of his drink.

Liz eyebrows narrowed in confusion as Benno continued to drink.

“So you’re not the guy who lost his son to the curse?”

“I definitely lost my son, but it wasn’t to some curse.”

“you sound pretty certain about that? How can you be so sure.”

“ha… that easy,” said Benno, looking away and taking another long drink. Once the bottle was empty he lowered it and look back to the group, a more serious expression etching itself onto his face.” I sore who did it.”

Part 3- He Came In The Dead Of Night

“I got off work late that night, it was already ten o'clock by the time I got home. I decided to go straight to bed after my exhausting day. Just as I was crawling into bed with my wife I heard someone walking down the stairs. I grabbed the baseball bat from under my bed and went to go check out the sound.”

Benno slowly pushed his bedroom door open and slipped his way through the doorway, closing the door carefully behind him. He tiptoed his way down the stairs, hiding behind the wall as he listend to the intruder slowly walk around the room behind him. He peaked his head around the corner to look into the other room seeing a small figure standing by the kitchen. He turned the corner and walked into the room towards the figure.

“Troy? What are you doing up so late.”

Troy continued to stand completely motionless looking out into the room.

“You ok buddy? You get hungry or something?”

Troy once again didn’t respond, looking towards the door as if in a trance. Benno reached his son, kneeling down to his level he looked at his son's black expression in confusion. He waved his hand in front of his face once again getting no response.

“What the…”

Benno turned his head to follow Troy’s eye line only to see the dark outline of a figure standing in the front door. Benno jumped up pulling his bat up ready for a fight. He moved to stand in between the strange figure and his son.

“Who the hell are you. Get out of here before I drop you,”

The man continued to stand completely motionless unfazed by his threats. He suddenly felt a pushing against his lower back. Benno turned around and looked down to see his son mindlessly walking into his back trying to get past him

“What the,” He said as his son managed to slip past him and began walking to the strange man's side. “Troy… Troy get away from him,” Benno pleaded, his tone becoming more and more desperate.

He looked back up to the strange man still standing unfazed by Benno's presence. He clenched his fist tightly around the bat as he watched beginning to let out a threatening, low pitched growl.

“You bastard,” He yelled as he launched himself towards the stranger.

Benno raised his bat up over his shoulder as he grew closer to the man. With a loud, vigorous shout he sent the bat flying forwards. The stranger raised his hand up casually, grabbing the bat in hid air and stop Benno in his tracks. Benno’s eyes filled with terror as they met with the strangers. With a powerful shove, Benno was sent flying backward, slamming into the kitchen bench and falling to the ground. he grabbed his back and let out a pained groan of pain. He looked up to see the man reaching out his to grab his hand as he turned and walk out of the house, leaving Benno still straining his mind to proses what had happened.

Part 4- A New Lead.

“My wife heard all the commotion and ran downstairs, just in time to miss everything that happened. I tried to explain to her what had happened, that our son had been kidnapped by some strange man but no matter what I said she didn’t believe me. She was always superstitious so she blamed the curse for our son's disappearance and by extension me for not taking the whole thing seriously. She left me not long after that and with no real leads to go on the police refused to believe anything I said. And so that’s how all this came to be,” Benno said as he went to take another sip of his drink.

“Hmm… so someone kidnapped him,” Liz said as she rubbed her chin. “You think that it’s the same person taking all the kid?”

“It might just be a coincidence, but I’ve got a sneaking suspicion it's all linked somehow,” replied Alex.

“Damn it, looks like we’re out of leads again, looks like the universe just doesn’t want us to solve this one,” Bip huffed from behind the group.

“I wouldn’t say you’re completely out of leads yet,” Benno interrupted.

The group looked up to see Benno reaching across to a small wooden draw next to the couch. He slid open one of the draws and reached inside pulling out a strange object. It was silver with a metallic finish and looked like a semi-circle with a bar in the middle meeting the two sides together.

“what… is that?” Liz questioned, looking down at the item in confusion.

“Don’t know exactly, I think it might be some kind of weapon but I can't seem to get it to work. I found it after the man left, he must have dropped it at some point.”

“Do you mean that belong to the man we’re looking for? Hold on a second,” Bip said as he floated over to Benno.

Bip reached his paw out and touched the strange object. He closed his eyes and focused intently on the object. The group watched on as a light green glow began to emanate from the object before slowly beginning to dissipate. Bip opened his eyes and looked back around to his companions.

“I think I’ve got him, I should be able to trace his magical residue through the city.”

“Wait really, that’s great, come on let's get moving,” Liz said before turning to face Benno before nodding her head at him. “Thanks for all your help, we promise we'll do all we can to find your son.”

“Huh… yeah good luck,” He slurred uncaringly as he fished around in between the cushions for another drink.

Liz, Bip and Alex looked to each other with concern for the man who appeared to have lost everything. The group turned off and walked towards the door lead by Bip before running off down the street. Benno continued to search for a few moments before stopping and looking down at the ground. He clenched his fist tightly before looking up to the open door letting light stream into the darkened room.

________________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading chapter 55 of mage. If you like what you see consider checking out my AO3 at this link https://archiveofourown.org/users/50Funny to see all new chapters 3 days early. If you feel so inclined please consider following my tumblr for all updates and other tid bits. Until next time , have a good day.