A/N:...I'm tired.

More than that, I hate delaying updates.

Everybody Wants to be My Enemy and What Could Have Been are fighting me. Slifer can't help this time, as he's busy with Partner's in Crime, which should be ready next Wednesday. Meanwhile we have Forgotten Son, a MASSIVE chapter now, but still not ready. Needed to include the Field of Fire bit.

Then we have Embers of Hope, Take the Girl, and all the Elden Ring updates. Sorry, I'm not as quick as I used to be.

Don't get me started on Blood Upon the Snow and the Fate stories as a whole.

I'm not rushing chapters anymore. They'll be ready when they're ready.

With my fifteen year anniversary on this site here, I find myself reflecting on the little things in life. What was once a lazy pastime meant for me and a few friends really grew and evolved over time. There are days when I look back on the last fifteen years here and I wonder if anyone will remember me; if I made an impact, despite never making a single cent on any of these stories. Some days were happier than others, and some stories I enjoyed writing WAY too much; to the point where I'd stay up all night working on them.

And of course, there are times when I look to the future and wonder what will become of things when I'm gone.

Of course, I try not to dwell on the latter overmuch; I'm still alive and still writing. In an ideal world, I'd like to keep doing so for as long as I can. But old age is catching up to me and these days, the world is filled with so much madness and death. The recent earthquake in Turkey/Syria serves as a terrible example. Even before that, so many friends and fellow writers I once knew are gone, now. Will I still be here in twenty years? Ten? Five? Its a chilling thought. But for now, I'm still here, still writing.

This is just a fun little bit from Beserker, which I'm currently trying to hash out at the moment.

Call this an OVA or what have you. I'm trying to shake of the rust here.

Why can't I keep my eyes open? I shouldn't be this tired...

"See this? This is my fist. Its going to meet your face if you don't dodge...now!"

~?

A Most Unlikely Spar

Why did Berserkers hit so damn hard?!

Mordred barely had time to ask herself the question; then she struck the ground like a meteorite. Her armor saved her body from the worst of the impact, sending her hissing and spiting as she tumbled across the dirt. It did absolutely nothing to salvage her pride...or Archer's. A screaming Atalanta struck her a second later and the duo went down, tangled up in each other. Having a physical body sucked in that regard. Getting injured like this bloody hurt.

"Move, damnit!"

"Ha?! You're the one who landed on me-

They were still sprawled there when a wailing Avenger -Jeanne!- crashed down atop them. "Owww!"

A giggling Assassin landed -gently!- atop the three of them. Jack clapped happily, utterly delighted. "Again, again! Do it again, Papa!"

"Now, now." Naruto lowered his fist and tutted softly, grinning at them. His smile stretched the burns Karna had left on his face; they contrasted nicely with scars carved into his neck by the Grail. He wasn't even using his cloak, yet he almost seemed to glow gold in the early morning light. "What have we learned?"

Semiramis sipped languidly at her tea, indifferent to them all. "That engaging you in a fistfight is foolish?"

Atalanta groaned into Avenger's thigh, still thoroughly dazed. "Kill her. I'll absolutely kill her...

"Now, now, that's not the lesson." Naruto looked her way. "What about you, Mordred? Learn anything?"

Saber felt her heart skip a beat. Those old war wounds made him seem more real somehow. Learn something, he said. She was beginning to learn that she had a thing for guys with scars. That, or lovable idiots who went to hell and back for her. Probably the latter. She was still figuring it out. Plenty of time to do that now.

All the time in the world, really. Things were good and peaceful as they were. Why change them?

And yet it felt like she was forgetting something.

What was it?

Assassin's hand shot up with startling speed. Even then, her answer surprised them all. "Mama Mordred is staring again!"

Mordred flushed to the very roots of her hair. "Mama?! Why you little...?! That was a cheap shot!"

Jeanne grinned as only a former saint could. "And yet you're not denying it."

Atalanta tutted at them with a fond smile. "No, she isn't."

Mordred made angry Mordred noises.

A Most Unlikely Spar indeed.

A/N: Aaaand scene. But was it real, merely a memory, or an illusion?

Such is a fragment.

Once more, we're sticking with the "Embers" rule for this story, and others. Meaning folks don't like this, it won't be continued. If the story itself ain't popular/well-received...well, I won't be able to continue it. I'm working two jobs, holidays are here too, meaning I barely have time to write; as such, I cannot afford to write something folks don't enjoy.

So by all means, speak up! Your voice matters! Make yourself heard! As ever, reviews are the fuel that sustain me. Without them I cannot write a single word. Simple as that. Working nearly all hours of the day keep me absurdly busy, and I can't bring myself to write something folks don't like.

So...in the immortal words of Atlas...

...Revieeeeew, Would You Kindly?

No previews. I'm exhausted.

And so very sad...T_T

R&R! =D