《constant peril → d. dixon》e l e v e n
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Maisie was pissed when Rick forbade her from going on any runs, but she understood where he was coming from. Rick was a leader who had to protect his group and family. Not to mention Maisie had been doped up on medication for a week.
Her stomach and hip gave her hell when she walked and turned, and she knew it was gonna be a rough few weeks until Denise removed her stitches.
Blearily, Maisie saw a teenaged boy enter the infirmary.
"Carl, can you help me?"
"I'm not Carl," the boy told her, chuckling nervously.
"Then who are you?"
"The name's Ron, Ron Anderson," he said, and held his hand out to her. "I can still help you though."
"Alright," Maisie shrugged, draping her arm across Ron's shoulders. "See ya later, Denise!" she called over her shoulder as they hobbled out together.
The sun blinded her tired eyes but she didn't say anything about it.
"What's your name?" Ron asked suddenly.
"M—"
"Maisie!"
Maisie turned at the sound of her name and saw Carl jogging towards them. She gave him a smile as he slowed to a stop.
"What're you doing?" Carl demanded, his eyes on Ron.
"Helping a beautiful girl out," Ron replied casually, shifting his hand on her waist. Carl glared at him. Maisie could sense a tension between the two.
"She's outta your league," Carl spat.
"And age range," Maisie butted in. Ron gave her a quick once over and shrugged. He didn't seem to care.
"I can take her from here," Carl told him, drawing himself to his full height. Ron immediately did the same, only to be outmeasured by an inch or two.
"Would you guys knock it off?" Maisie sighed, pulling herself from Ron's grasp. "Thanks for the help, I need to talk to Carl," she said, giving the kid a nod and watching him walk away.
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Carl saw her sway slightly as she walked. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I just have a headache," Maisie muttered. She felt Carl's hand under her elbow, steadying her while being poised to grab her if something happened.
"So, what'd you wanna talk to me about?"
"Nothing, I just wanted to get away from that kid."
"He was totally checking you out," Carl laughed, accepting the friendly punch to his shoulder.
"Gross," Maisie laughed.
"How old are you anyway?"
"Twenty-six."
"Really?!"
"Yeah?"
"You look younger," Carl said quietly, his face flushing at his outburst.
〄
After three days, Rick had learned something very, very important.
Maisie whistled when she saw the RV returning from the Hilltop, signalling for Spencer to yank open the gate. The RV passed through and Spencer locked it up tight again, Maisie watching him double check the lock. She knew he didn't want a repeat of the wolf attack, after he'd accidentally left the gate unlocked.
"What's the news?" Maisie called, leaning casually against the railing, her rifle strung over her shoulder on its strap. Rick ignored her and strode away. He was mad about something.
"Glenn, get up here!" Maisie hissed as the man exited the RV. After looking everywhere for her voice, he finally pinpointed her location to the guard tower and climbed up the ladder.
"What's with Officer Friendly?" she asked, holding her hand to her
forehead to block the sun that shone in her eyes. "He looks royally pissed."
"He is."
"Why?"
Glenn explained what happened at the Hilltop: Jesus had informed them of a man named Negan and his followers; Saviors, they were called. They took half of what the Hilltop scavenged and grew, and how Negan had once killed a sixteen year old kid right off the bat
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—(—
to show he meant business.
"Well shit," Maisie exhaled.
"Gregory asked about you," Glenn told her, a sympathetic look on his face.
"What'd he say?"
"Well, I shouldn't say he asked for you, specifically. He asked for the 'young blonde, oh, what was her name? Molly?'" Glenn quoted almost comically, smirking at her.
"Shut up," Maisie growled, trying to keep the laugh from her voice as she delivered a friendly but solid punch to his shoulder.
"C'mon," Glenn said, nudging her to the ladder.
Scowling at him, she made her descent and waited for him to join her before she started walking back to her house, briefly nodding at Aaron as he walked by to take her spot in the tower.
"Gregory gives me the creeps," Maisie muttered, turning the handle and pushing open her door. Immediately they could hear Jackson's nails clicking against the hardwood.
"I don't blame ya," Glenn responded, stooping down to pet the excited animal.
"So, Rick's just mad that Negan's taking stuff from the Hilltop?"
"No, he's mad that Gregory was stupid enough to try and cheat Negan. We're gonna refuel and take out an outpost Jesus said had many, many saviors inside."
"Tonight?" Maisie asked, filling a bowl with water and putting it on the floor.
"Yup."
"Sounds like fun. When are we leaving?"
"We?" Glenn demanded, making a face.
"Yes, we. I've been cooped up inside these walls for days!"
"Cause you're injured!" Glenn retorted.
"I'm injured, not disabled," Maisie spat. "Besides, you can't stop me from not going."
"Wanna bet?"
"Yes, actually."
"Alright, you asked for it," Glenn muttered.
Maisie shrieked as he bent down and wrapped his arms around her knees, draping her over his shoulder. Grabbing a chair from the kitchen table with his free hand, he carried Maisie and dragged the chair to the hall closet.
Releasing the chair, he pulled open the door, dumped her inside the empty closet and quickly jammed the chair under the knob.
"Glenn! Let me out! Right now!" Maisie snarled, her voice muffled through the door.
Glenn sighed as she began to pound on the doors with her fists.
"Let me out!"
"Sorry, Mais, it's for your own good," he told her, striding away.
"Wait! You're not leaving me, are you?" Maisie asked, panic rising in her chest. She got her answer when she heard the front door slam shut.
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- In Serial100 Chapters
{The Dragon Within} (Completed)
Meeting his fate at the hands of seven great heroes, the wicked drake now stands in Death's hall. Met with the Grim Reaper itself. Defeated and its pride broken, the drake doesn’t beg or grovel, it simply awaits judgement. It waits for the God of the afterlife to send it on its way, to either the heights of bliss and peace or where it knew it would be sent. The depths of agony and torture, the halls of Tartarus, the father of monsters. Grim looked up from its oaken desk and down at the creature that would have otherwise, if grown wiser and older, matched the reaper itself in power. Its faceless guise, hidden by a black hood and whirling shadows, it briefly stared at the drake. “You are unfit for the sky yet also too fit for the abyss,” Grim spoke, its voice a cracking whisper. “Your time came too soon, the actions you have taken will lead your world to ruin…Be reborn, pitiful serpent. Yet remember what you have done, see what your actions have made that realm into. Let me show you, how your greed and gluttony have warped such a wonderful place and time.” Grim raised its black-feathered pen towards the beast “Be reborn, as the weak pitiful creature you should have been born as. Take this both as a punishment and…a learning experience. For failure, can be the best teacher.” The drake took a step back, hoping to escape this cruel fate. Yet none escaped Death, less so its embodiment. Screaming shadows engulfed his form, ripping away at his body and shape. Fangs of darkness sinking deep into his draconic flesh, warping it, changing him into something else… Opening his eyes, the wicked drake felt none of its power, none of its magic and none of its might. As it stood at the edge of a cliff, looking down upon a ruined valley of rot and miasma. It glanced down at itself, seeing none of its sturdy scales or sharp claws. The drake had been reborn... As a Human. Will also be posting on CreativeNovels found here; CrN Where chapters will be posted earlier than RRL.
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My guild was transported to another world, but I'm just the Illusionist Enchanter
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. 🐉 . The City of The Forever-Peace witnesses a pale young Buddhist Monk fighting his fearful thoughts of whether to cross the borders to Nepal and India against the death penalty. Why would that matter? In that September Autumn night of circa A.D.655, Emperor Táme’ Tie’-Zeon has been ruling an empire spanning 13,000 miles from the East to as far as the Baikal Sea in the Western Regions bordering the Middle East kingdom and the Rome Empire. Meanwhile, news has traveled that his Dharma-Son, Pan G. Monk faces an incredible Guillotine Execution that will chop off his waist in halves. The Empress Wǔl Zénder-Tan’ couldn't be careless. Why would that matter to the imperial family? Monks are just officials with equal vicarious duties and privileges. She would then spare her resourceful energy to maintain the fruitful relationship intertwining The Grand-Khan Jurchen-Warlords Clans in the North-East Desert in attempts to affirm her fate as the first and only female-Emperor, in the Medieval Ages of the Great City of the Dragon. Whereas The Abbot Master Xend'-Zeon of the Jade-Lotus Temple faces factions of religious politics. Particularly in the present, the Empress needed to manipulate the Master’s reputation to desperately seek life and/or the after-life merits. She decreed to be addressed as The Old Buddha Grand Father. The Master has had ideals of service to sentient beings since he was young. He could have traveled the Silk Road to the Far West entrance-point bypassing the five beacons as shortcuts save that he lacks the pertinent travel documents. Instead, he chose to cross the 800-mile овь-Gobi Desert that is as vast as the Baikal Sea, on foot. A route that is impossible in the history of the Buddha dharma. His heart never withers to support the mage of the red lotus that promises the Enlightenment of the Buddha-Land. Except that no one has ever endured the latitude of the heat. The pain. Alive, out of the desert sea. But he is also vulnerable to recognize the un-staticity of The Truth, The Truth itself, and the truth of seeking passion and mission for compassion in humankind. The mind and body reciting The Sūtra and The Heart, A phenomenon they knew better as if souls in chemical layers of their physique. Realizing enhanced mind training attaining controlling powers of life and death. Realizing the transformation of the unbearable pains and grievances he thought possible. . 2 . 🐉 . Meanwhile, dreams have been watching him to open The Third Eye, at The City's Amethyst-Jade Palace of the Second Emperor, Third Emperor, and Fourth Empress. Old Monks at The Nālandā Temple at the Far West Buddha Land; Householders Masters and Kings of the Jeek’-Foot Mountains of The City of the Naga-Dragon Twisted; in the Far West of The City of the Ever-Peace witness adventures of The Master. Lives at brinks of suicidal choices slaughtering ordeals. Who have inadvertently neglected the Master's karmic inflictions that would paradoxically affirm in a point of Near-Death Experiences; The Two-Profound-Reflective presented upon attaining The Deep-Active-Meditatitive Flow of Equanimity Samādhi. Eventually, The Seer Consciousness sees the Active Heart that is replete with The Latent Unconditional Love, Compassion And Empathy; that had been so close to us that we could not see it; as if one cannot see her own face. . 3 . 🐉 . Meanwhile also, the Imperial Criminal Affairs Clerk Ewen Hawk-Jean suffers too much seeking possession of desires and relief from a certain situation. Pan G., the Assistant Dharma-Translator to the Abbott Master Xend'-zeon has voluntarily or otherwise fallen into the supposed conspiracy or plain indifference. The imperial family's agenda of the Imperial Family of The Fang’-Chucks of course longs for a waist cut in halves not simply as souvenirs. Awaiting the Abbot Master is to come out from the disturbance. Incredibly transformative factors of the Mind-Transcendence-Samadhi are profoundly desired to spare the Monk Pan G. from the Post-Autumn Guillotine Execution that will chop off his waist in halves...... …But why would it matter to You?
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