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bestie-enthusiast · 3 years

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Chapter 1: Prologue

This is the Prologue to my PTA! Dad! Zemo fanfiction. It is the second of 11 chapters.

The Previous Chapter is for Character Introductions, if you want a more gentle introduction into this au, go check it out.

Fic summary: After the untimely death of both his wife and father due to a bombing, Baron Helmut Zemo takes his son and immigrates to America. He does not expect to find a family nor a romantic partner, and he especially does not expect to find the ability to heal. To grieve.

And yet, here we are.

This is a story about connections, growing, healing and mourning the past while still appreciating the future and all it has to offer.

Lenght: 1428 Words

If this interests you, keep reading!

“Are you ready, Carl?” Zemo asked his son, using their native tongue. He wanted his son to grow up knowing the history of their family, despite the fact that their country had been wiped off the map in all ways but physical. Carl was already fluent in Sokovian of course, as well as English and French, but he did not want his son to get rusty just because they were no longer living in Sokovia.

“Yes, papa!” His son responded excitedly, standing impatiently at the door while his father put his shoes on. He was starting at his new, American, school today. Even though he was sad to leave his home and old school, his new home was very big and exciting, and papa had told him that his new school would be “just fine.”

“Alright, come now schatz.” His father opened the door and gently took his hand. Carl eagerly skipped along the sidewalk as they walked to his new school. He was wearing his new clothes, and papa had said he looked like a gentleman. His papa was also wearing new clothes, he had a fancy coat with fur.

They eventually made it to his new school and Carl paused, looking at his father with uncertainty.

“Do not worry, my liebling. It is only for some hours and then you can come home.” His father reassured him, and Carl warily stepped into the school grounds. He continued walking, eventually finding a group of children playing hopscotch. They let him join, and soon enough he had entirely forgotten about his nervousness.

Zemo stared at his son, smiling slightly with relief when Carl found some children to play with. He was glad that Carl was able to find some children to join. The two children looked like brothers.

“Are you new to the neighborhood?” He heard someone ask beside him. He looked over, seeing a snarky faced woman. She had clearly dyed her hair a horrible blonde, and had a rather obvious fake tan.

“Ah, yes. We have just recently moved here.” He replied with a smile. It was difficult to take his eyes off of his son, but it would be more polite to look at the woman while they conversed, so he managed. He noticed her assessing his outfit and his smile grew a little more tense.

“Are you the one that bought that great big house over… oh whats the street name…” Zemo’s smile grew strained but he reluctantly prattled off the name. “Oh yes that's it! Me and my husband had been planning on buying it, you know but-” Zemo tuned her out, still politely nodding and making eye contact, but not really processing what she was saying.

“Carol!” Another voice shouted out, this time a kind looking woman. She bore a resemblance to the two boys his son was playing with, so perhaps she was their mother. Either way, she earned some respect from him, after all she was getting him out of this dreadfully boorish conversation.

The lady who he had been talking to scoffed under her breath, making him frown. How horribly impolite. “What do you want, Sarah?” She asked rudely, scowling deeply at the other women. Zemo was confused, this other lady, named Sarah apparently, appeared very kind.

“I just wanted to let you know that Hunter is throwing another fit.” Sarah responded, her once sweet smile turning a more sickly sweet, the smile of a woman who knew she had won. The rude woman, Carol, stomped off in a huff, over in the direction where a crying child was throwing themself around on the ground. Zemo grimaced slightly, some people should not have children. He turned to Sarah, giving her a slight smile.

“Hello,” He greeted, eyes flickering over to Carl briefly. He was still playing with the two boys. They had moved onto a different game, he noticed.

“Hey! Sorry about the intrusion, not that you looked like you were enjoying the conversation much.” Zemo let out a little chuckle, that was accurate.

“It is water under the bridge. You are correct, I was not all that interested in what she had to say. I apologise if this is impolite, but are those two boys yours?” He asked, pointing at the brothers that appeared to be teaching Carl some sort of game.

“Yeah, they are. Is that your kid with them then?” She asked back, and Zemo nodded. Carl seemed to be having fun, that was all that mattered. The loud bell suddenly rang, making him flinch slightly. He could see Carl jump in surprise, but he got over it quickly and rushed into line with his new friends.

“That’s a rather loud bell.” He commented quietly, waving to Carl as he went inside. There was a rather attractive man holding one of the doors open for the kids. That was one of the teachers, if he was remembering correctly. Mr. Barnes, although he went by Mr. Bucky, or more simply Bucky. Zemo licked his lips slightly, missing the beginning of Sarah’s reply.

“-get used to it. But considering how old your kid is, I’m assuming you’re not from around here?” Zemo shook his head, both in response and to clear it.

“Ah, no. My son and I recently immigrated from Sokovia.” He explained, watching as the last of the children trailed into the building. He took a deep breath and turned back to Sarah, who was already looking at him with a peculiar expression on her face.

“Sokovia?”

“Sokovia. It is a small European country located close to Serbia.” Sarah nodded and held out her hand. He gave it a firm shake, and gave her another small smile.

“Well, it was certainly nice meeting you, Mister…”

“Zemo. And you as well Miss...:”

“Wilson.” She obliged with a laugh, waving him goodbye as she started to walk down the sidewalk. Zemo spent a moment longer looking at the school, before starting his own walk home. He lived a fair distance away from the school, close enough that he could still walk with Carl on days with kind weather. On other days with worse weather? Well Oeznik could drive them.

As soon as he arrived home he jumped into his work day. Many things around the estate needed sorting out, and he was also sorting out all of his income and income sources. The day went by very quickly, and soon enough he was telling Oeznik to prepare the car so that he could pick Carl up. He flawlessly parked along the sidewalk and began the short walk over to the school.

The school day had yet to end, but he had spotted Sarah, so he made his way over to wait with her.

“Hello again, Ms. Wilson.” He greeted, giving her a slight smile.

Sarah looked at him and smiled back, hers much brighter than his. “Well, hello stranger.” She joked, hiding her smile when he once again flinched at the loud bell.

“It is so unnecessarily loud,” he complained under his breath. Sharon laughed and turned towards the school, prompting Zemo to do so as well. It took him a moment, but he soon located Carl, who was also with Sharon’s two sons. He waved and Carl waved back, weaving through the students and parents milling around. Zemo bent down and scooped him up, giving him a tight hug before setting him back down. He could see Sarah looking at him out of the corner of her eye as she greeted her own two kids.

“You really love him, huh?” She said quietly, looking at Carl as he gestured wildly in the conversation he had started with Sarah’s two boys.

“He is my everything.” Zemo replied, just as quietly, staring at his precious son. He suddenly cleared his throat, startling Sarah slightly. He would not start to cry like some of the other parents, he was a baron, nothing more, nothing less. “I will be seeing you tomorrow, yes Ms. Wilson?” He asked.

“Yes of course, and you can just call me Sarah.” She replied, giving him a soft smile. He returned it and gently rubbed Carl’s back, telling him it was time to go. Carl eagerly followed him to the car. It wasn’t the most fancy or expensive car he owned by far, but it was luxurious and comfortable. Once he had made sure that Carl was safely buckled, and started to drive home.

Carl told him all about his day, and for the first time in a long while, Zemo allowed himself to completely relax.

Tagging: @morganbritton132 (who provided the idea for this fic) and @i-ll-be-the-moon (who is very nice and wanted to read it <3)

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ask-ethari-anything · 4 years

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How did you and Runaan get together? Who confessed first? Did you kiss? Was it romantic? Awkward? Please tell us the story!

Well, we had a nice subtle courtship period, as all Moonshadows tend to--subtle to Runaan, anyway. I knew what he was about pretty early on, because he’s honestly terrible at flirting. But it was really cute to watch this self-assured assassin fumble his way through what he thought were stealthy romantic cues! Ahh, it was all very flattering! It makes my heart flip just remembering those days. I didn’t want it to end too soon, so I pretended I didn’t know what he was doing, hoping he’d be persistent, and boy was he! When Runaan decides something, that elf Decides. The Moon has surely blessed me with this elf who loves me.

I was very content to enjoy his fine attentions as long as he wanted to give them. I’m a master of the Long Look, the Gentle Accidental Brush of Fingers, the Double Entendre Compliment, and the Leaving Obliviously Just After Dropping A Comment Bomb. I absolutely kept his attention riveted on me while pretending I was doing nothing of the sort. But Moonshadows understand balance deep in our souls, so I knew that for all the dancing I was doing, keeping Runaan fixated on me, I’d have to let him take that first big step and say something. I owed him that much. And I really, really wanted to know how he’d say it!

How does a masterful assassin, a dealer in death, confess to the lightest thing in his life? What does that sound like? I needed to know. And I wanted him to feel that moment with his whole heart, because balance. Every chance I get to drag Runaan into a light and sweet moment, I do it. Because it’s good for him, and I want nothing more than for him to be his best, most beautiful, most balanced self. One foot in the light and one in the dark, bridging everything that being Moonshadow means. He’s exactly that dramatic, don’t deny it. So, I help him out with the light and soft things, like playing ignorant until he can’t handle it anymore and blurts out his true feelings for the first time!

We made a Moonshadow date of it, that day. I made a picnic because Runaan invited me outside the village, where no one else could overhear us if things didn’t go the way he hoped. I made way too much food, because I was so excited. I was finally going to hear Runaan speak his secret truth to me, I could feel it. And I knew that I loved him, too, that his secret would be very safe in my heart. But I had to play along, to give Runaan that one perfect moment.

We headed to a nice hollow a ways out, with a tumbling waterfall and an old understump ruin--an underground meeting hall for Moonshadows, long abandoned. And I brought the picnic and some weapon designs--we must be practical about these things, after all! Runaan picked the spot, and I really appreciated the waterfall touch. See, it was pretty loud, so we had to sit close together as I showed him my sketches and we talked them over. I wasn’t quite in his lap, but it was pretty close. I did take every opportunity to brush up against his knee, his hand, his arm, too! Oh, the little hitches in his breath were delightful. He had it so bad that day, because he knew what he was going to tell me. And I pretended I didn’t notice--because he hadn’t confessed yet, and that’s just polite. But it really fueled my soul.

You know the feeling when a cat chooses you to curl up with and fall asleep? When it trusts you despite its stabby ways, and graces you with its soft flexible beauty? Having Runaan fall in love with me was like that, but a thousand times better.

Eventually we got around to the picnic, and I made sure to brush against his hands every time I handed him things from my pretty basket. One time, he even glared at me as if I were purposely tormenting him--which I absolutely was--but then he caught himself and blushed, and aahh my heart leaped! I love Runaan’s blushes. Each one is a soft little gift, and I treasure them all. Because even now, he still does it.

I made Moonberry Surprise for dessert, with a special little twist in the recipe just so I could insist on feeding him a bite for his opinion of it. Yes, I absolutely bustled right over his objections and held out a spoonful of it for him, cupping my hand underneath, waiting expectantly for him to taste it. He blushed again at the very idea of opening his mouth for me, and I very nearly lost it. So close, I was so close to just kissing him. But I’d been planning to give Runaan his confession moment for a really long time, and I dared not mess up when we were so close to it. I begged the Moon for strength and managed to wait him out.

He took that bite for me, and his eyebrows shot up. I can make a perfectly delicious treat when I want to. But then, see, he had a little moonberry syrup on his bottom lip. What could I do but thumb it off for him? So I did, and he blushed harder. And then I licked it off my thumb while holding eye contact with him and asking him what he thought of the treat. He literally stopped breathing.

It was time to push the poor elf. I was having such a hard time keeping my cool. But I had faith in him. He’d planned this trip, and I needed him to complete that mission he’d given himself.

He stared at me, wide-eyed, for a few seconds, and then blurted, “Let’s go see those ruins. They seem very interesting.”

Doing anything with Runaan at that moment was well and truly fascinating, so I agreed immediately. We abandoned the food and my sketches and hunted for the entrance tunnel to the understump. And this is how off-balance Runaan was feeling: I found it first! I reached over and grabbed Runaan by the hand so I could tug him down through the overhanging vines and into the dimness. I babbled the whole way down to the hall about the glowing mushrooms and what sort of rituals they must’ve performed down here, and literally any thought that came into my head that had nothing to do with the fact that Runaan was about to confess his true feelings to me.

I thought I’d be okay, that I’d keep my head together, but I was suddenly really nervous, too. I’d been planning this whole thing out, and then it caught me up. Because I was in love, too. Just because I was more comfy with my feelings didn’t mean they didn’t overwhelm me sometimes! And they sure started to right then. My hand got sweaty in Runaan’s grip, and I started sounding breathless even to my own ears. Surely Runaan noticed, right?

I pulled him out to the middle of the hall, under the rooty roof, and took his other hand so I could spin with him for a moment in the light of the glowing mushrooms. “The magic here is deep and old, Runaan. Can’t you feel it?”

He tugged me to a stop. “I can, Ethari. But I also feel something new. And I hope that you do, too. But whether you do or not... I can’t keep it to myself anymore. It’s too strong, I can’t hide it, and... I don’t want to hide it anymore. I want you to know.”

I wasn’t playing anymore when I breathlessly begged him, “What do you feel, Runaan?”

He stepped closer, and his eyes roamed across my face. That soft smile of his broke out, and his eyebrows lifted. He rested one hand along my cheek and thumbed my cheekbone, and my eyes went wide. Runaan’s so careful about touching. But there he was, reaching out, being vulnerable. So I leaned into his touch and closed my eyes. I needed him to know that I was very very okay with him touching me softly.

When I opened my eyes again, he was staring at me so intensely, and his lips had parted, but he hadn’t quite said those words I needed to hear. So I cupped his hand with mine, turned my head without breaking eye contact, and pressed a quick kiss to his palm.

Oh, that did the trick.

“Ethari... Ethari, I’m in love with you.” His words came out uncertain but determined to exist, to be real. “Truly, deeply, and most ardently in love with you.” His voice shook a little, but his eyes were on fire. He took my face in both hands and looked up at me, breathless, his chest heaving, eyes clinging to my face.

And there it was. The moment he needed. He’d done it. He’d said the words, and they rang true.

And I realized that, for all my planning, I’d never once considered what my reply would be! Oh dear.

“Truly?” I echoed.

“Yes,” he murmured.

“Deeply?”

“Very deeply,” he assured me.

“Ardently too, huh?” I teased.

That got him to smile again. “Yes. Definitely.”

Something loosened in my chest, and I just let it open up. I didn’t need to plan my words. They’d come when I let my feelings out. “That’s such a relief to know, Runaan. I didn’t want to be the only one of us in love with the other.”

His eyes darted up and down, reading me, making sure all of me was saying the same thing. And then he threw his arms around me and melted into a full body hug.

He’d been holding back, too. Holding back so very much. And now, we both got to let it out. I held him close, nice and tight, and we took a long moment to just be together in the sacred silence. To be truly together, for the first time, with our hearts.

But I had a really pressing question I needed to ask. “Does this mean I can kiss you now?” I murmured in his ear. “Because I’ve been wanting to for a long time.”

Mmmm, that soft little gasp he made. “Please do.”

I took that sweet face in my hands then, slowly and gently, didn’t want to startle the assassin, and kissed him softly. When I looked into his eyes again, something much hotter was sparking there, and he kissed me then. Not gently, not slowly.

We danced together when we entered the village, held hands walking across the green, and Lain and Tiadrin came running up to give us their congratulations. And I’ve spent all my days kissing and dancing with Runaan ever since.

#ethari #runaan #runaan x ethari #runaari #ruthari #first kiss #story time #elf husbands

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zwiezraczek · 4 years

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6 + 1 Underground [Four x OC/reader] Chapter 5

SUMMARY: Sasha is a Polish girl, with a strange past. She has various skills, driving amongst others. So she becomes Eight. And you know that Four plus Four is Eight…

CHAPTER 1 - CHAPTER 2 - CHAPTER 3 - CHAPTER 4 - CHAPTER 5: Eight’s Mission CHAPTER 6

Sasha lives her first mission as the Ghost of Kubica. Adrenaline is there.

WORDS: 2.4k

TAGLIST (if you want to be part of it, leave a comment! ^^) : @kingniazx @imjustboredso @pandamanda99 @mustbeaweasleyginger @cooliosmosh @lillymitl

Sasha's hands covered in white gloves wandered on the steering wheel. She had waited for this moment since she joined the team, and here it came: she was in Paris, waiting for One and Two to come out of the Villa Saïd in the 16th Arrondissement in Paris to step on it. This was the adrenaline rush she needed right here and right now, and nothing else. Five sat by her side, nervously checking the entrance of the Villa, expensive cars going in and out every few minutes, minutes nearer to the moment Sasha could drive as she always did: Kubica had to be awaken. She sat in a nice black car, a black Renault RS, slender and not very noticeable, nothing too flashy as she was once told by Piotr and from then stuck to that rule. Unless told otherwise. But now, they had to blend in, as rich tourists waiting for anything, their husbands, their friends, girlfriends? Who cared as long as Kubica sat behind the steering wheel.

Three proudly called the two of them “bonitas” as he picked their disguises, flowery dresses and satin shawls on their hair, glasses for Five and none for Eight. They looked adorable, nothing suspicious in this chic district, and that was the whole point. Sitting in the front seat, nobody remarked them as they seemed to carelessly chat about the new Louis Vuitton's collection, the one with red scarves and leather bags, whereas Eight asked Five if she had any new information coming from Two. But still nothing. No blond head in sight, nor One's face, no running, no people covered in blood. As a small talk, Five told her how Two got injured in Florence, and what a bitchy patient she was moving around and even going out as she lost a shit ton of blood to shoot some of the guys: this women was unbelievable. Sasha smiled, hands stiff. She could feel the leather under her palms, she felt the engine, this clean machine only waiting to go faster and faster. She could sense it.

“Bonjour demoiselles,” Eight heard in her ear along with Five: Three's voice from the car parked near the Place de l'Etoile.

“Something wrong,” Sasha asked, ready to speed up at any moment.

“Twenty one still inside,” he asked.

“Yes, they are,” Five replied looking at Eight, a bit nervous. “This shouldn't take too long if... Mierda, here they are,” she shouted as she saw from the corner of her eye One, covered with blood and Two having his back as they advanced towards the car. Five went to the backseat, already taking her medical supplies as Sasha had her hand on the lever, ready to go.

“What the hell you did,” Sasha asked, as One was put into the car by Two before she shot some bullets towards the villa and making her way next to Eight.

“He fucked up,” Seven's voice resonated in her ear. He stayed on the top of the building facing the villa, ready to snipe, and apparently he saw the whole scene.

“Go,” Two shouted, as Sasha put her foot down, wheels screeching, One's head bumping on the door as Five tried to make him stay still, him and his bleeding arm.

“Gentle millenial,” he screamed, all painful and fussy.

“Fasten your fucking seat belt, you” Sasha yelled as she sped up on the Avenue Foch.

“Idiot,” Two completed calmly. “To the Place de l'Etoile. He got fucking shot as I tried to gently talk with the man hiding his stick. And this idiot out there threatened him.”

“Three, path's clear,” Sasha's voice was strong, waiting for a reply.

“For the moment yes, staying here until Seven joins me,” he confirmed as she heard a car following them on the avenue.

“I'm not an idiot,” One protested, wiggling and Five had no other choice than slapping his head. “What was that for,” he exclaimed.

“Don't move or I'll be obliged to cut your arm off or take you to a hospital,” Five seemed stressed, as sweat drops appeared on her forehead, but she didn't lose cool.

Sasha drove, wheels screeching, the engine roaring under her control, One cursing along with Five and Two looking peacefully at the road. Three made a good job, she heard him faking a foreign delivering some stuff to the souvenir shop around there, the mafia men weren't pleased at all as they cursed him, making Two smile under her breath. But Sasha had no time to laugh, focused and tense: everything she loved in this job. She remembered perfectly the ways she had to take to reach the Quartier Latin – without Two's help – to reach Four, waiting for them on an old building. A grand finale, he said to her with a huge grin. Nothing good, absolutely nothing good.

“Where are you,” she heard Four's voice inside her head now, as she tried to avoid the cars in front of them and not get caught by the guys behind as Two was ready to shoot some of them.

“Not so fucking far from Notre Dame with dogs... Pigs behind me, three cars for the moment” she correcter herself, One's cursing distracting her from talking as Five scolded him endlessly. “And the mafia of course, five cars. Hope your plan is bomb or I'll have to speed my way to the 91 as soon as I can!”

“We'll be able to lose half of them, pigs and mafia, so be ready to drive fast: trust me!”

“Do I have a fucking other option,” she yelled, a little smirk on her face as she avoided another car while turning next to the BVH Marais, feeling alive and ready. “I guess I have to trust the Eastern guy!”

“Hey, lovey dovey Eastern people,” One interrupted as he laid on the backseat, trying his best to not move as Five tried to get the bullet out of his arm, “we're not on a love mission, you're not Three and Two, so fucking do your thing before I lose my fucking arm,” he yelled, Two rolled her eyes, before looking at One who just mouthed yes I know.

“Coming to you,” Sasha replied, ignoring One's whining, focused on the mission, and the grand finale.

She turned down the road after the bridge, arriving until one of the universities, this was the old building Four talked about, ready to be destroyed it seemed. She sped up, as the cops and the mafia were trying to catch them. She prayed for Four's plan to work out, truly. And if not, improvisation. She improvised many times, in a city she knew but here she felt like in a damn maze, and was still impressed by her ability to find her way out there. As she entered the large street next the building, she felt gas. No way. She sped up, fingers crossed, hoping they wouldn't get injured even more. A great noise, dirt all around, the building fell. Right on the road, right on the cars following them. And now, she couldn't tell how many of them followed them, but she had a moment to lose them, taking another path, and fitting in the flow of the cars. To Corbeil-Essonnes. The place police feared and French mafia too, because these people were something. And luckily, they loved the ones messing with Frenchies.

“Four, do you copy,” Sasha asked, as the adrenaline rush came down. On the road around Paris, she almost lost all of them. Almost. “Four, do you copy,” she insisted, as Two looked at her, intrigued. “Three, you're still in Paris?”

“Oui, mes beautés,” he replied as she could almost imagine Seven rolling his eyes as Three spoke.

“Four went mia,” Sasha said, focused on the road between One's groans.

“We leave the kid behind, he'll be fine,” she heard. One's voice. She tightened her grip around the steering wheel. No, she wouldn't lose her Eastern partner in crime. She gave him a dark look through the mirror before addressing Five.

“Five, if he says that again don't you fucking dare taking that bullet off his arm, and if you do I'll fucking kill him myself,” she threatened as Two chuckled under her breath, nodding as she looked at Eight, before turning her head back abruptly at the window.

“Don't worry Eight, we won't leave him again, as One wanted,” Seven said through the device.

“Again,” Sasha exclaimed, her voice full of reproach. “You're a sick team, and a sick man One!”

“Stop talking and drive,” he retorted, hissing between his teeth as Five still tried to get that bullet off his arm.

“We're not leaving until we find this problematic boy of ours,” Seven said and Sasha could hear Three's humming.

“You see these guys, you see them,” One shouted, moving all around,as a car sped up until reaching them and Two grabbed her gun and pulled the trigger. One less. Five just sighed.

“We need to lose them, you can do this,” Two asked and Eight looked at them, smirking.

“I absolutely can,” Sasha replied. Speeding up? She was born to do this.

~~~

Pretty quickly, Sasha managed to lose them all, with Two's help and her knowledge of the roads here – something Sasha missed truly to master this evasion properly. On the backseat, Five managed to get the bullet out of One's arm, not without him cursing for many, many long minutes as her and Two were trying to totally lose these guys. And they succeeded. And so did Seven and Three, finding Four.

“Good news,” Seven's voice almost blasted in everyone's ears, “Four's alive, his mic went off during the explosion.”

“Great,” One groaned, as Sasha sighed in relief. She grew close to all of them, but him and Five especially, and she dreaded the moment she would lose them under any circumstances. She already lost Piotr and Magda. “See, Eight? Nothing to be worried about with Four, he's a grown boy!”

“Yeah, thought you were too but you screamed during the whole thing as Five was trying to get that bullet out your arm,” she replied, driving calmly as Two just nodded. Eight made her laugh, sharp remarks, really nice to hear.

“... You have the right to remain silent,” he pursued and looked at Two to change the subject. “So, the usb key?”

“I have it, don't worry One.”

“I do worry, we never know with you,” he complained as Two rolled her eyes.

As Sasha drove towards the hotel they were staying in, Two and One discussed about the usb key, some details about what they needed there and how to get round the CIA's protections against intruders on their files. Three and One would certainly work on that.

They arrived in the hotel almost forty minutes before the others. Sasha was amazed by the calm of the man at the reception desk when he saw One's arm covered with blood, cursing as he held it. Two spoke to him in French, explaining some things Sasha had no idea about, as she looked at Five who just looked helplessly at her to escape One's ramblings. A sound, the doors of the elevator opened and two men with two massive guns came out, not even casting a look at the small group gathered around the desk. Two told them that this place was safe for any criminal, and that here having a gun was nothing abnormal, but seeing it with her own eyes, as she was accustomed to hide her weapons in Poland, made it look even more surreal than it actually was.

They had three rooms to share, Eight with Five, Two with Three and the rest of the group together. As soon as the group arrived to the room where the three men were about to stay, One decided to display all his electronic devices in order to begin to hack the whole key, with Two's knowledge. Five was still searching through the medical bag they carried in the car for some medicine for One, and trying to stitch his wound, as he typed on the keyboard. And Sasha, Eight, stood next to the large window from where she could see the parking lot, looking for the boys to arrive. And she saw them, her face lightened up instantly. Four was the first one to jump out the car, his hoodie on his blond locks and all covered with dust, she could see it distinctly from there. Seven carried his gun in one hand, not seeming to care too much about people who could see him – he must have noticed some men carrying weapons here – and Three had his sunglasses on, and walked confidently towards the entrance. Sasha told to the group that they arrived. A dozen of minutes later, Three opened the door, carrying a bag with him, followed by Seven and Four.

“Was it all worth it,” Seven asked as he put his gun on the bed that was his now.

“One says it is,” Two replied, looking over One's shoulder. “The man we got had many information, I worked with him in the CIA, and that key is our key to some true good information,” she continued, putting her hand on her hip.

“So what's the status of the research,” Three asked, standing next to Two.

“Either you fucking let me work this out, or you go fuck in the elevator or whatever,” One snapped, and Five put some medicine next to his left hand with a glass of water. She took a deep breath.

“Nasty move,” Seven commented. Four, who remained silent until now, leaning against the wall, only nodded with a hum.

“So sorry I'm not a romantic,” One ironically apologized, “but either you two move your asses and help me a bit with this or this mission will me meaningless!”

“I'm out,” Seven said, standing up to avoid the argument or the tension between the three of them.

“Coming with you,” Four stated, following him.

“I'm staying here Eight,” Five said to you, as you gave her a look. “Need to watch this bad boy right here,” she precised, pointing One's arm.

“Joining you guys,” Sasha finally said, Four still holding the door for her.

#ben hardy #four x reader #four x oc #four!ben #four billy #four ben hardy #6 underground ben hardy #6 underground #six underground ben hardy #six underground #ben hardy imagine #fanfiction

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years

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Dragon Dancer: Bondarev

We were so focused on our sword training that Johann and I didn’t notice that Mingfei, Nono and Crow were watching from a distance.

Mingfei and Nono had decided that there was enough information here to spend several nights studying and there was no point in making the long drive back to the shrine.

“As for me,” Crow said, “I have to go back to work!”

“You’re leaving us?” I asked with some worry.

“Oh yes, I have to make my daring escape from the S-grade rebels.” He threw one arm over his eyes. “I barely made it out alive!”

A quiet giggle came from my back.

Crow peeked out from under his arm. “Ah... our sleeping beauty has awakened.”

He walked over to stand next to me peering at Ru’Yi who was looking over my shoulder at him.

“Do you mind if I give her a kiss goodbye?” He asked.

“Sure thing, Prince Charming.” I rolled my eyes.

He planted a kiss on Ru’Yi’s soft hair. “I left some stuff here for her. As well as some food for you. Good food, not the instant noodles and beer I left for the others.”

Mingfei’s jaw dropped. “What are we, chopped liver?”

“Your bodies can take it! Carli has to eat healthy for the baby to grow strong!” Crow roared in response.

Then he turned and grinned at me fondly, becoming that profound and majestic persona, Saeki Ryuuji. “I am a street gangster, and so is my father. He could beat up just about anyone, but when I was a boy, my father told me that I should know how to protect girls, because girls will be mothers in the future. They can have children, and children can bring hope! If the girl is dead and the man is alive, how can he forgive himself?”

We pored over the esoteric manuscripts. Herzog had his own shorthand, abbreviations, and things only he understood. It wasn’t a code, but his lingo and jargon. It made it near impossible to figure out his reasoning.

Nono was using her profiling ability. A lot of these works weren’t complete, not because of his short hand, but because they were referencing other materials not in this collection.

It didn’t help that the man was so disgusting. He conducted hundreds of human experiments. Almost all the disappearances of people in Japan in the past 20 years could likely be traced back to him. For Nono, searching for valuable clues in this man’s thinking was like searching for a wedding ring in a pile of dog vomit.

“Herzog wasn’t basing his work on known dragon research. He’s making leaps in conclusions that shouldn’t be possible given how we understand dragons. Sometimes, he said things that are completely contradictory and yet in hindsight were absolutely right.”

“For example, he knew that the sacred skeleton was not actually a bone but a parasite.” Mingfei said. “Literally no one was saying this, not even among the Hydras, so how did he know?”

“The only way he would know is if he had direct access to someone with first hand knowledge.” I said, sitting with a sleeping baby in my arms. I’d taken the opportunity for her nightly feeding while I listened to them work.

Mingfei looked at me and so did Nono.

I didn’t tell them but I’d actually done something very similar to Herzog’s accomplishments during Code: Leviathan.

EVA had needed assistance in translating reams of dragon text in a short amount of time, but about 25% of that dragon text was completely new to the study. It would take months to decipher it all and our ability to investigate a nearby dragon temple depended on understanding these parchments.

Enter my ethereal twin.

Through my dragon’s scale, I had access to an entirely separate reality, a reality where the White King never rebelled and humans still were ruled by dragons. With her first hand knowledge, I was able to make leaps in interpretations that should not have been possible.

But the system wasn’t perfect. Once my soul twin realized that we were going to kill Leviathan, she hid information from me. It wasn’t until we reached the central chamber of the temple that we found out that we weren’t at Leviathan’s nest at all, but a temple devoted to her human lover, the Raj Yamir.

“What first hand knowledge? Dragons have been dead for ages. The Secret Society is the one with the oldest records...” Nono rubbed her chin.

I shrugged. “Let’s not dismiss a possible solution just because its so obvious. Not only did he know it was a parasite, he had prepared a host for it months in advance. He knew exactly what he was doing ”

That host was a child made from my genetic materials -- materials that he had bought for 500 million dollars.

“He knew exactly what he was doing.” I said, in a softer voice, remembering how helpless I was to stop him.

“Uh. By the way!” Mingfei said loudly. “Do you think Crow has a thing for you?”

I lifted my head, dazed. “Huh?”

“Yeah speaking of obvious...” Nono smirked at me. “I think you should go for it.”

“Oh please.” I rolled my eyes. “He’s very kind and... what he said was nice, but you could tell he was putting on an act.”

“Was making all these dishes for you an act? What about all the baby supplies?” Nono pointed out.

I looked over at it. “He said he’s always wanted kids... ”

I turned my eyes to Johann who was tucked away in a sleeping bag. “I’m already married.”

“He just doesn’t know it.” Nono pursed her lips.

I chewed my lip. “I can’t do that. I swore to death... not to memory.”

Nono tilted her head and cracked open a beer. “Well, I’m done for tonight.”

“Yeah... let’s take a break.” Mingfei said, looking at me with sad eyes.

The next day we were back to it again, this time searching for his sources. One name kept coming up again and again.

Bondarev.

“Herzog himself said that his original research was just going to help him to create a super army which... as far as villains go is not a very creative plot.” Mingfei commented. “He only started talking about the Sacred Skeleton after Bondarev came into the picture.”

By that evening, we had opened and closed at least a hundred books, taking pictures and searching for any references to Bondarev we could find.

We kept asking ourselves: Where did Bondarev get his knowledge? He claimed to be a Romanov, a family of Tsar’s that according to Secret Society information, were hybrids.

“But if Bondarev had inherited this knowledge from his ancestors, why did they go west to fight Hitler and not push into Japan to conquer them and get the most valuable treasure?” Nono said. “Japan was not really an opponent to them later either. But this guy is leading him step by step to becoming the White King on his own!”

“Herzog copied Bonderev’s route to becoming the White King pretty much verbatim.” Mingfei added.

According to Herzog’s notes, he killed Bondarev in a sneak attack, but it seemed too easy. Such a mysterious man was shot by Herzog through a cabin wall with a machine gun so that he died. “Herzog himself also said in the diary, ‘I don’t know if it is really Bondarev, I’ve killed.’”

The face of the deceased was Japanese, not Russian. Herzog guessed that it was Bondarev based on his body and figured Bonderev had performed some sort of plastic surgery to blend in and become part of the Hydra.”

We stared at each other a moment. After two nights, we had seemed to have gotten no closer to any answers. Nono, fed up, grabbed one of the books and pitched it across the room.

Crow, who had just walked in, caught it right in the face. “Wow! Good evening!” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Did I come at a bad time?”

“Do you see my face?” Nono snarled, crossing her arms.

“Aaah! So scary! I come bearing gifts!” He held up a bag as if to shield himself. “To make up for my oversight earlier. Fresh gift fruits from the Academy!”

We looked at the bag like it was a bomb. And it could have been given that the Gear Department wasn’t above hiding explosive devices in food.

“Ahahah! It’s fine! I tested it myself on the way here! The finest in Japan. The melon alone is about ten grand!”

Ru’Yi squealed when she saw Crow and he picked her up and squeezed her. “You’re too young for solid food princess!” He planted a loud raspberry into her cheek.

Ru’Yi reached out and grabbed his nose, cackling with a wide smile.

With his nose pinched, he said, “Moutong-sama, if you could please take a look at the video on my phone here. They’ve asked me to broadcast it all over Tokyo.”

He handed over the phone then turned to continue to play with Ru’Yi.

On the screen was a burly middle-aged man with a square face and a determined expression.

“Motong, if you can see this video, please be sure to watch it all the way through. This is a message from your family. You are in great danger. The people you are with are potentially violent and have committed serious crimes. Your family misses your safety very much and hope you will know how to return.”

“This Mingfei business has nothing to do with you. You are innocent. You have been deceived. No matter where you are now, as long as you fight to come home, call the following number and we have the absolute ability to ensure your safety....”

Nono tossed the phone back to Crow. “What does he consider me? A little girl who fell down a well?” She said, her tone cold.

Crow and Mingfei exchanged glances.

“So... he really is your father?” Crow asked carefully. “You don’t have a good relationship with him?”

“Can you see my face right now?” Nono circled her face with one finger.

When Crow tried to ask another question, Mingfei made a throat cutting gesture.

“Well if you don’t care, I’ll let it broadcast then.” He shrugged, pocketing the phone.

“This is... getting too heavy... Why don’t we go out to eat?” Mingfei humbly suggested. “I know a place near here. A 24-hour Ramen shop. We can decompress there.”

#Mingfei Lu #Lu Mingfei #Nono #Chen Moutong #Chu Zihang #Johann Chu #Luminous #Dragon Raja #Fanfiction #Writing

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sup-hoes-its-me · 5 years

Text

With Time (Tobirama x Reader)

A/N: I'm a terrible writer, I know. Tobirama x reader bc this guy doesn't get enough love. I really love the song anxiety by blackbear so here's a one shot inspired by the vibes i get from it.

word count: 4732

Part one/Part Two/Part Three

I am a Hatake. Naturally I loved dogs, right? They were our family’s summon, our most important companions (other than our human ones), and the one true beast we trusted with our lives. You’d think I’d get along with every dog and mutt out there, regardless of breed, right?

Wrong.

There was one absolute dog that I could not stand. His name was Tobirama Senju. He was the bane of my existence.

Ever since we were children growing up together, I couldn’t stand him. I was always close with his older brother, Hashirama, or as I nicknamed him, “Hashi-kun”. We would run through the forest together, playing silly games like cops and robbers, and pretending we were explorers from a far away land. Then, when we grew of age, we started to train together in our shinobi natures. While he was the only living person known to use the Wood nature, I inherited the Lightning nature from my father.

We were raised in the Warring States period, and although most clans were at war during this time, the Hatake and Senju never had issues with each other (idk if this is even true, just go with it, fam). It was mainly us against the terrible Uchiha who threatened our lives each time we battled. When we were old enough to engage in combat, we did. That’s how our childhood was. We fought for our lives if we could use our chakra, if not we stayed at home and did what we could to support our clans.

For the most part, I was a friendly, easy going girl. I liked normal things, like eating dango and climbing trees and making friends. But for some goddamn reason I could not bring myself to like Tobirama. Frankly, I thought he was a grumpy bitch, and I didn’t want anything to do with him.

Still, Hashirama insisted that I attempt to become friends with him. After all, they were brothers, and if I was to be one of his best friends, I would need to be civil with his only surviving brother.

But it was just everything about that mug that made me want to punch him in the face. His stupid spiky gray hair that almost matched that of my clan. I hated the way he marked his face every morning with that red paint. His face protector was the ugliest, stupidest thing I’d ever laid eyes on.

And god, was he rude to me. Always had been since I first met him at six years old. Six! He was five and I was six, and he completely embarrassed me in front of my friends by telling me my lightning release was weak, and his baby brother could do better. The comment was far from necessary, and it made me fume.

Not to mention he had to be better at everything. He had to best me at Water Release, and he always one upped me when we trained. Hashirama would laugh and always congratulate both of us for our skills, but I was always shamed I couldn’t impress anyone. He always had to show off in front of his clan, my friends, even my dad.

Even my summon, Popo, had taken a liking to him after I specifically told the dog that the boy was pure evil.

To put it simply, Tobirama was my rival and a pain in my neck. I’m not sure he was fully aware of how I felt because I tried to keep things civil, but I could tell from sideways glances and scoffs that he knew something was up between us.

The first time I actually spoke to him alone, without the comforting presence of Hashirama was almost eye-opening. I was sitting in a tree, the ripe age of seventeen. It was my birthday, and I spent it alone. Ever since my father died, I spent the majority of holidays alone.

I let my feet swing below me, hanging from the thick branch. I pulled one of my knees to my chest to hug, pressing my nose to my skin to hide my face. I wouldn’t cry, but I couldn’t help but feel empty. Being isolated in this way really damages a person.

The tree I sat in was producing bright green apples, and they hung around me. They were still sour, not quite ripe yet. I could smell them, the intense scent of freshly picked apples, like the ones my mother used to bring home to bake. They reminded me of a time when my older brother ate so many sour apples because of his and got so sick to his stomach he was throwing up for two days.

Suddenly, I jumped when an apple came hurtling my way and knocking into the trunk I leant against. I cursed under my breath and glared down at the ground, looking for the culprit so I could give them a good whack on the head. Instead, I was met with someone unexpected, and most definitely unwelcome.

“What the hell, Senju?” I growled at him, picking an apple by my head and throwing it down at him with deadly accuracy. He sidestepped it though with a soft ‘tsk’ under his breath. When he said nothing for another few moments, I persisted. “Well? Do you have an issue because I’d rather not be harassed by-”

“Shut up, Y/N. I’m not here to give you a hard time,” he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “I’m actually here to give you something.”

“Sure you are.” I rolled my eyes as I replied. He had to be pulling my leg. I mean, what would he have to give me other than a bad day and embarrassment. I crossed my arms over my chest and waited with my nose stuck in the air. He looked just as unimpressed and irritated as I did, but I could see some foreign emotion flashing through his red almond eyes. I questioned flatly, “What is it?”

He pulled a small box from his pocket, about as big as the palm of his hand and tossed it to me. I caught it in my hand and held it up to inspect it. It didn’t look dangerous, but it could have a paper bomb inside for all I knew. I pulled the box into my lap so I could glare down at him.

“Why are you giving this to me? What is it?”

“It’s just something I had lying around. Don’t think much of it, Hatake,” the boy told me gruffly before turning on his heel. Just as he made it a few steps in the other direction, he abruptly came to a stop and tilted his head forward. I wondered if he was contemplating something as he stood there with his hands strictly shoved in his pockets. I thought for a second to throw another apple at him, but decided against it. I’m so glad I didn’t.

He peered over his shoulder for a quick second before looking away again. “Happy Birthday, Y/N.”

I gaped at him as he walked away. When he was out of my sight, I looked down at the small box in my lap and narrowed my eyes. Was this really a birthday present from my rival? I took a deep breath and untied the wire holding the lid closed.

Hesitantly, I opened the lid and put it to the side. Inside the box were two absolutely beautiful shuriken. They were razor sharp, two of the best I’d ever seen. They were so new and polished that they glimmered in the sunlight. I gasped as I picked one up and held it in my hands. It was weighted perfectly and sat in my hand like it was made for me.

There was no way he just kept shuriken of this quality just sitting around. Tobirama must have bought these special for me. For my birthday. No one cared about my birthday anymore. Not even my brother who lived with his wife and family. As I held the shuriken in my hands, I let out a hitched breath.

Tobirama, you bastard.

_______________________________________

The second time I was alone with Tobirama was actually during a confrontation. Never in my entire life did I think I would defend the Senju, actually protect him from harm like I cared about him, only that’s precisely what happened when he encountered a certain Madara one day when he was in the forest training.

Tobirama had a special place he preferred to train. It was right at the edge of the forest beside the river. He was so skilled in his water jutsu and worked on this developing one. I forgot what it was called, but it involved beautiful water dragons. I watched him conjure it once while I worked on the side with Hashirama. I was completely captivated. It was beautiful, what this man had created.

I was walking through the forest with my summon by my side. He was a majestic husky with intense blue eyes and reddish-brown fur mixed into the white. I loved him like my own family, and often let just walk around with me when I was lonely. He was nice company.

He knew all about my conflicted feelings towards Tobirama. He knew how I thought that his jutsu were gorgeous, and that I’d been moved when he gifted me those shuriken for my birthday. He knew all about it. And he often teased me. It was like having an annoying older brother around, I swear.

“Are you aware that you’re leading us directly to where Tobir-” I swiftly cut Popo off before he could say anything else.

“I just wanted to visit the river today and sit on my favorite rock, Popo. I doubt he’ll be training this late, anyway.” That was a lie. I knew Tobirama would be training at this time. He trained nearly every day at six sharp, and it was a little after seven. He probably wouldn’t finish up for another hour.

I didn’t quite understand why I wanted to see him, but I was convincing myself it was just to thank him for the shuriken he gave me a week ago. That had to be it. I wasn’t going to visit Tobirama for my own satisfaction, was I?

My dog laughed to himself, but continued at my side obediently as always.

The forest was oddly tense as we approached the river where he would normally be. I could faintly make out his figure from where I was, but also there was another figure just beyond him, dressed in all black with black hair. My gut immediately told me, Uchiha, and I gasped. My hand subconsciously slipped out one of the shuriken from my pocket, clutching it tightly between my fingers as I approached on silent feet.

And as I listened in on their conversation, narrowly avoiding their range of sight behind trees and thick brushes, I realized the danger in this confrontation. I bit my lip and fiddled with my weapon, ready to pounce on Madara if needed. Strangely, I felt the need to protect Tobirama. It was like this odd burning desire in my stomach, and I desperately wished to smother the thought.

Only, my mind was on more important things.

I could barely make out what he saying at first, but finally I could hear what Tobirama was saying, and it left my heart racing. “-the only way to end this is to kill you.” He sounded so serious, his voice deep and terrifying. Although these two boys were only teenagers, barely seventeen, they were fully capable and ready to slaughter each other.

My back pressed to a tree, feeling the bark scratch my skin through the fishnets. The shaking through my hands was almost uncontrollable, and I had to steady them to keep from dropping my weapon. I was scared. I admit it. I was terrified. I didn’t want to just stand here and let Tobirama get hurt, but Madara, all of the Uchiha really, were terrifying.

“The day I allow you to raise a hand to me will be the day you die, Senju,” the other boy replied.

“So be it. We will see who really is superior.”

Then, the sound of a sword unsheathing made my head snap up and breath to suddenly inflate my lungs. The fear for myself left my body as I rushed out from behind the tree. I felt like crying as tears gathered behind my eyes. There would not be a fight to the death on this day, at this spot, if I could help it.

I threw myself between the pair. I thankfully kept myself on my feet as I gasped, gritting my teeth to keep myself from crying. I held up a hand towards Madara, as if I had a chance of keeping him from destroying me and getting to Tobirama with the snap of his fingers. My entire body was trembling so violently that I could barely keep my balance.

Tobirama was completely shocked to see me, his eyes wide and concerned. He noticed the glint of his shuriken in my hand and the tears streaming down my face. He was beginning to say something, but only my name left his lips.“Y/N-”

Madara rudely interrupted, his eyes scanning my quivering, minuscule form with amusement in his eyes. “Who is this? You’re little Hatake girlfriend? Can’t defend yourself, Tobirama,” he mocked. I glanced up at him finally, having enough courage to face him. He had no emotion in those blank black irises. Nothing. I felt another rough tremor run through my body at that.

“Please, don’t. N-Not here. Not now, M-Madara,” I whispered through my teeth. I took another step closer to Tobirama until I could feel the heat from his body. I kept my eyes on the Uchiha though. He had no right to threaten my friend like this. He had no right to cross this river where Tobirama trained and threaten to steal his life. “Tobirama, please,” I whimpered. His rough, calloused fingers touched my upper arm before wrapping around and tugging me closer to him, almost behind him in a protective stance.

His gaze was enough for the Uchiha to get the hint. It was not the time. “Fine,” he replied grimly. “Another day we will finally see who prevails.”

With those words being his last, he left into the forest.

I let out a sob, pressing my hands over my eyes to cover my pathetic tears. Why was I even crying? I wasn’t sure. Was it because of my fear, or because of my overwhelming rush of adrenaline? I felt like I was drowning in my emotions, and the only thing I could do was cry.

Tobirama sighed, brushing a few strands of my hair behind my ears. “Y/N, why did you do that?” he mumbled.

“I couldn’t just let you get hurt. I thought you might die, Tobirama!” I cried, burying my face further into my palms.

“Do you doubt my abilities?”

“Tobirama, please. I-I just couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt; even if you are strong, you can still make a mistake, you idiot!” I bawled, finally taking my hands off of my face. Before he had the time to protest, I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and pulled him close to me, burying my snotty nose and salty eyes into his shoulder. “You dumb idiot. Are you trying to get yourself killed?” I scold him against his collarbone, my lips just barely skimming his skin.

He was awkward and tense, wrapped his arms strictly around my shoulders and patted me on the back.

“Don’t do that again!”

“Y/N-”

I hissed against his skin and tightened my grip on his neck. “Shut up. Just promise me!” I cried. He nodded begrudgingly, but that was enough for me. I melted in his hold and kept crying until all the tears had drained from my body. And he didn’t utter another word.

___________________________________________

The third time was different. The third time I knew I felt something for Tobirama at this point that I would have never even given thought to before. I was twenty, living alone in my single room apartment. I was a weak shinobi that woke up every morning, wore nearly the same outfit, drank the same tea from the same tea shop, saw the same faces on the street, and reported to the same hokage each morning.

But I rarely slept. My sleeping schedule ran wild and irregular. It was because I could never get him off my mind. The brother of the first Hokage, the boy who gifted me those shuriken when we were seventeen. The boy who threatened an entire clan and could probably succeed. The boy who held me when I cried and promised me things would be okay.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he smirked when someone did something stupid, or the way he rolled his eyes when his brother spoke about gambling and laughed like a complete lunatic. I couldn’t stop thinking about his face, and how he looked just right when the sun was shining in from the east. I liked the color of his hair, and that his eyes were a unique red, unlike the sharingan, but perfect for him.

His jutsus were outstanding, and his speed rivalled that of no other. He was amazing.

I was entranced by Tobirama Senju, and no one was to know. Not even my best friend, Hashirama. Definitely not him. He would no doubt attempt to meddle and ruin everything. He would be ecstatic and tell me that his plan or whatever worked out, that he was jumping for joy that his best friend was interested in his little brother.

The mere thought of that man’s reaction made me want to be sick.

I’m not sure why I suddenly had this infatuation with the light haired warrior. I wanted I drown out those thoughts, but they kept coming back. I could barely keep my composure when we were working together. He was so handsome, and each time we touched I felt jolts go up and down my arms. Not only was it embarrassing, but incredibly frustrating. I couldn’t get my work done properly with him around.

The only one to know about my feelings was, of course, Popo.

‘Y/N, I’ve known since you were five years old that you were interested in that Senju boy,’ Popo would tell me as if he really knew this would happen all along. He would say, ‘Although, he doesn’t seem like the dating type, and is quite cold, I believe that you two have history and chemistry to work through the dents.’

And I always scoffed. I did not want to pursue a relationship with him. He was still the annoying Senju I’ve always known, only now he’s grown up and isn’t as rude and ugly anymore. He might even be helpful and attractive...at times. That’s all I’m saying.

Anyway, after the village was created and Hashirama took place as Hokage, he was quick to let me take the place as his personal assistant, which basically meant I just helped him with paperwork and advised him on some important issues facing Konoha. Tobirama was also there to make decisions. We all worked together to keep the village afloat and developing.

I sat beside the long-haired man’s desk with Popo sitting by my side, his head resting in my lap. I stroked his fur softly with my free hand as I filled out paperwork with the other. Hashirama drank tea and scanned over his lotto tickets from earlier that week. He was quite the gambler, and he’d even passed the trait onto his granddaughter, Tsunade. Cute little girl, I tell you, but god was she stubborn.

I took a break from the work to sip at my own green tea, my eyes sliding from the work to my friend. He caught my gaze and grinned. “Y/N, you really don’t have to fill that out if you don’t want to. It’s my job after all.”

“It’s fine. Gives me something to do.”

“Or we could just talk, like old times! What do you say?! It’s been weeks since we had a long, fun conversation, don’t you think, Hatake?” he asked with a chuckle. I nodded, a smile growing on my lips as well. I set down my tea and placed my pen into the ink pot.

“How’s life? Treating you well?”

I nodded, wondering why he was asking. He saw me everyday, and asked the same question each morning, and then after lunch. “I mean, yeah. I don’t have anything to complain about,” I replied, trying to come up with something other than “fine” or “good” like usual.

“Any suitors yet? I know you’ve been single for a long time.”

“Hashi-kun, you know me. Lonely as always. None of the other shinobi catch my eye,” I lied through my teeth. And as always, my cheeks turned a bit red. They always did when I was thinking about Tobirama. When he mentioned suitors, I hated that my mind immediately went to him. “Well, there might be one person, but it’s not plausible.”

He quirked a brow, and I noticed the bright smile growing on his face fill with mischief. I guess this is why he’s my best friend. “Oh? Care to share?”

“Not particularly. I don’t want to get your hopes up,” I laughed, but it was obviously to cover up my nervousness. He noticed.

“Ah, I see. Well, if you need help, I’m all ears, and I can be quite the matchmaker.”

We talked about some other stuff, like his family and my dogs, especially Popo, who remained asleep in my lap for the conversation. The door finally swung open an hour or so later after the sun had begun to set and our tea run cold. Without a knock or anything, the door creaked open and in entered Tobirama in his casual clothes, forehead protector nowhere to be seen. That was my favorite time to stare at his face, as weird as that is. He just looked so...manly. Kinda...well, hot! He was hot as fuck with his hair falling down and his face clear.

He froze when he noticed me sitting at the desk with his brother and my summon. Eyes scanned my form, and I felt myself shift under his gaze. “Tobi,” I hummed the sweet nickname I adopted about a year or two before.

Tobirama rolled his eyes at my nickname, still not used to the casualness behind it. His hand went to rub the back of his neck. “Y/N, I didn’t know you were here.” He averted his gaze from me to the floor.

I noticed when he walked it that he looked clean and rid of sweat and dirt. He must not have trained today, or a least not at the usual time. He maintained that evening practice long into his adulthood. “I thought you would be training. Normally you’re out until eight or so working on your new jutsu,” I said.

“I decided to relax today.”

Satisfied, I smiled up at him and clapped my hands together.“That’s great. You deserve a break, you know. After all, you work so hard during the day trying to bring peace to Konoha and all.” It felt awkward: what I saying, praising him this way, the way he was looking at me as if I was the only one in the room that mattered.

Hashirama noticed the air between us, smugly crossing his arms across his chest and flicking his gaze between us. I gaped at him like a fish and quickly ducked my head, burying my face in my dog’s fur. He stirred from his slumber, but didn’t move, only sighed.

“I hope your conversation wasn’t too important-”

“Nope. We were actually just discussing you.”

I bit my lip, trying not to explode. What the hell were you doing, Hashirama? I screamed in my head. If he exposed me, I would kill him. Godlike shinobi or not, I would actually murder him.

Thankfully, Tobirama said nothing.

“What did you need, brother?”

“Tsunade was calling for you. She wishes you read her a story before bed,” he muttered sheepishly, a phrase I never thought I would use when talking about the man. Sheepish. He was the most blunt, brute man that I knew. Hashirama laughed as he stood from his desk, nodding his head.

He really adored his kin. I admired that about him. He had so many children and grandchildren, no wonder he was such a happy man. I peeked up from Popo’s fur to see my friend leaving the room. He waved to me and saved me a wink for when he was shutting the door. Dammit, Hashi. Like I thought, he was a meddling bastard.

“Y/N, how are you this evening?”

I bit my lip and looked to the side, not daring to look in his crimson eyes. My heart would no doubt skip a beat.

“I’m good, I guess. Just a lot of paperwork,” I told him softly, just barely below my normal speaking voice. He nodded firmly, and suddenly I couldn’t handle the tension between us. If possible, you could cut this tension with a knife. It was awkward and tense, and I could feel my pulse in my chest with every anxious, confused breath.

I stood from my place at the desk and brushed down my skirt, straightening my top as well. He scanned my form; I could feel it from the corner of my eye. I placed the files and papers in a neat pile on the desk, threw the pen in the bucket, and patted Popo on the back, as a signal we were about to leave.

He raised a non-existent brow at me, judging me with that dog logic of his.

“Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, well, Hashirama is gone, and I don’t have any more work tonight so-”

“Right, right. I won’t keep you,” he agreed, his voice lacking his normal confidence. He seemed tired, or even disappointed. Yet, I was too distracted with my own feelings to take much notice. “It was...nice speaking with you.”

I tried to gaze up at him, a small, lopsided smile on my lips. But his face was just too much for me to handle. I loved the way his lip was curved up in a weird grimace, almost a smile but almost a cringe. He looked hilarious. I liked the way his eyes stared out the window as if he felt nervous. He held his head high, chin in the air, but he looked so timid at the same time. He was completely adorable.

No doubt my cheeks were red as I turned my head down once again. “It was nice seeing you too, Tobi-kun.” My voice, as light as a feather sighed. I started to walk to the door and had my hand on the knob when my dog grabbed at my sleeve, making me pause if only for a split second.

But that second was enough.

“Y/N.”

Swiftly, I peered over my shoulder at him. The strange urgency in his tone made me take a second guess. I wasn’t sure how either of us were feeling in that moment. His emotions were hard to read that night. I felt like I was staring at a puzzle, an impossible one.

“Yes?”

“It’s nothing. I don’t know why I called your name. Carry on, Hatake.” My heart broke when he called me by my surname for the first time in years. Once again, I turned around and grabbed the doorknob, only this time I pushed the door open and left the room.

Popo sighed loudly as he trotted by my side down the long corridor. “You are a fool, Y/N. An absolutely foolish little girl.” And I couldn’t say anything back. I knew he was right.

#naruto #naruto x reader #tobirama #tobirama senju #senju x reader #tobirama x reader #naruto imagine #naruto shippuden #second hokage #wow i cant believe i wrote this long of a fic #i finished all three parts before post tho so check them all out #the ending is worth it #at least i hope it is #writing #mine #oneshot #naruto one shot

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letstalksymphogear · 5 years

Text

Symphogear, EP. 3 (Cont.)

“aight fellas im here for the fortnite session where we droppin boys”

Hibiki shows up, ready to participate in this four player game of sociological tension.

“hope hibiki’s doing okay. im worried about her. ryoko, stop resting your arm on my head.”

“ryoko does as ryoko pleases baby”

Vibrates angstily.

“im missing my wife for this guys please lets just do this”

“wish i had a wife too instead of this vase filled with fucking ashes” SLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORP

The squad analyzes the statistics of all Noise outbreaks over the last month to see if there’s a pattern somewhere. Somehow, Hibiki is regarded as an authority on this, despite being just a normal girl.

This is not the face of someone who has a degree in Noisology, let alone even listened to a Noisia album.

“looking photogenic while this girl describes how these horrible, lovecraftian entities butcher entire populations will look great on my acting resume”

Strained sounds of holding back laughter at this absolute clownery.

*coughs quietly*

Exposition goes on about the UN acknowledging the existence of Noise, but them existing for far longer, existing in myths as demons and monsters of long ago. This makes little sense, but fuck it, just roll with it. They also say the Noise is rare, but this being Symphogear, the Noise will be here forever, until the end of time.

“its like the noise are a metaphor........................”

Hibiki, looking dead inside as the average overnight studying student would, muses whether someone is behind the noise. She also asks if you can hear the sound of one hand clapping.

Tsubasa makes a very relevant observation that the school is smack dab at the center of all these outbreaks. In retrospect, you probably should have asked her first. She points out it may be because someone wants their get their hands on the almost complete relic hidden away in the 2nd Division: Durandal. Why anyone wants an old ass french sword is beyond me.

“yeah i can do exposition too, fuck you”

Finished relics are extremely rare and as a result extremely powerful. Incomplete ones are pretty powerful, but need to be rebuilt a bit.

“i discovered all this, conveniently, as the only person left to do so! totally not suspicious at all.”

“anime plot hurting brain. bullshit levels make think no good.”

“wish i got hired for a macross anime instead, they get to go to space”

“being meguca is suf- wait, im confusing my roles”

The exposition goes on to note that America wants the relic. This is one of the few shows that depicts America in a very serious and antagonistic light. America never cooperates in any useful way except once.

“it should would suck if someone was sending us them noise monster all on purpose-like”

“yeah............! suuuuuure would suck.... mmmmmmmmmhmmmmmmm...”

Tsubasa and Ogawa quietly plan idol ruminations. This animation used to be far, far worse.

This is the moment where Tsubasa becomes sword-kin. From here on out, she will always refer to herself as a sword. This is law. Literally every single season has this same deal. She believes she is a sword. I know it’s not literal, but I like pretending it is.

Succ Intensifies

“gonna get her number later after the season is over, damn”

Hibiki muses on the nature of war.

“why we gotta fight”

“cause yall suck”

Ryoko then says some very not nice things that we’re just going to walk right around because Ryoko is a little bit of a weirdo and should probably keep her flirting to the short haired lady working on the bridge.

“i will call the cops, lady”

Hibiki starts her next day at school as she spots Tsubasa during her choir class.

“forget my nintendo switch with the latest smash bros game in the classroom goddamnit”

“hibiki please tone down the gay for five seconds while we try to get through this dumb singing class in one piece”

“i smell a homewrecker”

“THE GAY CAN NEVER BE TONED DOWN, IT CAN ONLY BE TONED”

Hibiki is then fed by multiple classmates for this statement.

The Anime Janai crew is fond of Hibiki, much like a group of Lords being fond of the royal court jester. Hibiki clowns it up by working on a report she procrastinated until the very last minute. “Your life sure is an anime!”, one of them says. Hibiki then says, “I wish!”. They smile in unison at the irony.

Look at how they mock the threads of reality. Absolute monsters.

Hibiki nails the report at the skin of her teeth, Miku’s gonna get ready for the meteor shower, everyone’s real fucking happy, the evening looks peaceful, all is well.

“i cant wait to do all these fun things we promised several times over!”

Unfortunately, the worst case scenario happens.

Her tiddies start ringing.

“no.... fuck.... my tiddies... they’re ringing...”

She knows now she cannot go.

In retrospect, she probably could’ve blown them off. I mean, what are they gonna do? Fire her? She’s practically irreplaceable. Alas, her conscience is too strong. The ringing from her tiddies too loud to ignore.

“okay im back for the thing you promised we’d do repeatedly that we planned for a good amount of weeks now”

“...”

“i got fucking ghosted didnt i”

“cannot fucking believe i got ditched on my hot date with hibiki. bet its because her tiddies rang, isnt it. always her and her... GODDAMN tiddies ringing ALL THE TIME. LET ME BE WITH HER... god...”

“bae. im sorry. the tiddies rang. i have no choice.”

Miku tries to keep it together. Neither of them are happy about this state of affairs, and rightfully so, because it’s fucking stupid. Hell, it would have made more sense of Miku knew but still got jealous anyway, because she feels her job is establishing too much distance! And they talk those problems out instead of issues that only arise if everyone’s a goddamn moron about communication!

“but thats the point of the pl-”

NO! IT’S NOT CLEVER! IT’S FRUSTRATING! THERE ARE CLEVER WAYS TO SHOW A LACK OF COMMUNICATION BESIDES A CHAIN OF OBSTACLES TOO STUPID TO EXIST!

Miku takes the whole thing with grace even though I’m absolutely certain she threw her phone at the wall in raw, gay frustration.

Hibiki, understandably, is pretty fucking pissed.

“im gay. im angry, and im gonna fuck yall up for RUINING MY DATE AFTER HAVING FINISHED MY DAMN REPORT”

Hibiki fights the Noise. She’s gotten slightly better at fighting, but for now she’s still sorta trash at it. A grape themed Noise throws bombs and crushed her under rocks from a ceiling.

You’re a student. You’re the lone survivor of a concert that you got flak about for years. You go to an institution for singing with your best friend and basically get shoved into a life of crime fighting unwittingly. Your only teammate hates you and tried to kill you. You don’t get to hang out with your best friend anymore. Your teachers hate you. And you’re losing against the abominations that may have potentially warped your life negatively, forever.

This is probably the pivotal moment where Hibiki fucking snaps and decides she ain’t taking shit anymore. She’s not at her strongest yet, but mentally? She has decided to tell the world to go fuck itself.

“MY WIFE THINKS IM CHEAAAAAATING, MY TEAMMATE THINKS I SUUUUUUUUUCK, AND I’M SICK AND TIRED OF IT”

My, Hibiki, what big fangs you have. All the more to grit your teeth and beat the shit out of things with, I assure you.

Needless to say, even without having the skill, she’s starting to understand and get more comfortable with the full extent of the power her suit provides her.

She’s gotten so mad that even the illustrators are afraid of her.

To note: this isn’t just anime drama silhouette stylization. She is actually physically turning into a red eyed shadow. You’ll know why later down the road.

“YOU WANNA FUCKIN FIGHT ME NOW TSUBASA? HUH? HUH? YOU WANNA FUCKIN’ FIGHT ME?!”

Needless to say, her rampage goes on for a while.

She manages to dispatch all the Noise except for the Grape themed one. Up in the hole it made, she sees the meteor fall from the sky...

Wait, look closer. Is it a bird?

A plane?!

No, it’s...!

“i aint gonna tell her i just did a wish on her”

Sword!

“why the fuck does SHE get jetpacks?!”

Hibiki randomly yells out she wants to protect things too, for absolutely no real reason. Who would even break the ice with that. Hibiki, please.

They sorta stare each other down in a field awkwardly, like a bad high school reunion. But, a mysterious voice breaks out of literally fucking nowhere.

“didnt know they legalized gay marriage in japan already, otherwise id be showing up to this joke of a marriage sooner, you absolute buffoons”

“did this bitch just insinuate id waste my time getting married to this complete idiot, let alone even contemplate getting married in a public park as opposed to having a customized karaoke based marriage in the FUCKING HILTON?!”

“hey time out dont say that shit im already married and my wife already feels enough like im cheating so please keep those comments to yourself okay please”

“eat my ass, nerds. id tell you to come to the park in 15 minutes for an ass kicking...

but we’re already here, now aren’t we?”

#symphogear #symphogear season 1 #recap #anime

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sgtbuckyybarnes · 6 years

Photo

“That was almost the exact opposite of what I meant…” Yazmin x Fangs

Requested by @isaaclahys :)

“And you remember what we said right?”

Yazmin glanced to her brother out of the corner of her eye, pausing applying her lipstick to let out a long sigh “Yes Xander I’m not an idiot,” she said with a roll of her eyes before she turned back to the mirror “…what’s the bar called again?”

The knock at the door echoed through the trailer before Xander could answer. Simply looking at her in exasperation he got to his feet and made his way over to welcome his sister’s date “Good luck with this one tonight man,” he said jabbing his thumb over his shoulder once he’d greeted Fangs.

“Ignore him,” Yaz interrupted, bumping her brother out of the way with her shoulder before brushing her hair down with her fingers and sending Fangs a smile “I am totally ready.”

She missed the unconvinced glances the two boys shared as she made her way out of the door.

His hand slipped into hers when he joined her on the path and his fingers gave hers a squeeze “It’ll be fine,” he said, talking to and reassure himself more than anything, as they began their walk.

Her boots crunched in the gravel and the expensive perfume she only let herself wear on the odd occasion filled Fangs’ nose as she turned to him “So, did Cherry Blossom decide to join us tonight?”

“It’s Cheryl babe,” he corrected her, squeezing her fingers once more. He’d never seen her nervous before but there was a slight tremble to her hand as she reached up to push her hair from her face “And Toni said she has decided to grace us with her presence after all yes.”

Nodding her head Yaz chewed on her bottom lip, trying to remember all of the things Fangs and Xander had told her to focus on instead of the usual thoughts with escaped her mouth on impulse. Don’t mention Toni’s height. No power battle with Cheryl. Do not, under any circumstances, mention the sexual tension between Della and Sweet Pea.

They came to a stop in the carpark of the Whyte Wyrm, Fangs tugging her around to face him and arching his eyebrows over to her “I think you’re perfect just the way you are,” he said reaching over to cradle the side of her face, his thumb ghosting along her cheekbone as she rolled her eyes.

“But just switch off every urge I have for the night?” she asked tilting her head to one side and letting out a laugh when he pulled her closer “I’ll be nice,” she promised against his lips before she captured them into a quick kiss.

As they parted she shook her hair from her face and the protective front he had grown used to her putting on emerged “I’ll get the drinks in,” she said as they made their way through the door “Just beers all round?” she asked even though she knew the answer, keeping a hold of Fangs’ hand for a little longer before letting him go off to find his friends.

She insisted on carrying the six beers on the very scuffed looking tray herself and she put a big smile on her face as she struggled to carry and balance on her heels “No, no it’s alright!” she insisted when she spotted Fangs kicking Sweet Pea under the table before she leaned over to set the tray down “Wow this place…” she began glancing around as she made her way to her seat “…is really good at not insisting you have your ID!”

She kept the smile on her face as she plucked her own drink from the tray, knowing she was bombing it already when Fangs tried to hide the fact he was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well she’s not wrong,” Sweet Pea said as he too reached for his drink “It’s definitely my favourite thing about this place,” he continued with a shrug and even daring a smile over to where Yazmin was looking at him with wide eyes.

She felt herself relax into her chair after that. Leaning against Fangs’ side she did her best to take in the conversation around her, to laugh at the appropriate moments even if she didn’t quite understand what was going on and to not say anything to offend anyone. She did manage to make a comment on how cute Toni was but was able to breathe a sigh of relief when she, thankfully, took it as a compliment.

“So,” she began, taking it upon herself to carry the conversation on when their chatting died down “What does it take to join your…” she paused to wave her hand around them “Group. Like. Officially.”

She had promised Xan earlier in the day that she would get as much information as possible for him in his quest to join the Southside Serpents but what she found herself hearing made her want to keep it all to herself.

“So you got punched in the face??” she asked turning to both Toni and Della with a horrified expression on her face.

“No!” Fangs exclaimed quickly, leaning forward in his chair before the two girls could retaliate over whether or not they would be able to get through the boys part of the initiation “The girls do something different, they…dance.”

An amused look he wasn’t sure he liked came to Yazmin’s face as she glanced between them all before her eyes headed over to the pole on the stage “Like, up there?” she asked, her mouth forming an ‘o’ in shock when the girls nodded “Wow. So when did you do it?” her question was directed toward Della first.

“Thirteen months and two weeks ago,” Sweet Pea answered almost automatically as he raised his bottle to his lips.

Yaz looked as though all her birthdays had come at once as Della sent a questioning gaze over to the boy she had always insisted was just her friend “Okay Sweet Pea calm down,” she said with a giggle “You answered that so fast, is that how long you’ve lusting after her or something?”

“Dude?!” Sweet Pea exclaimed, gesturing wildly between his friend and the amused looking Yazmin as both Della and Fangs choked on their drinks.

“Amazing!” Toni exclaimed as she and Cheryl fell about in laughter, leaning over she held her hand out for a hi-five “Good one Princess!”

Her grin was wide as she turned to Fangs “I got a nickname,” she said looking pleased for herself and not realising it had been what they’d all called her behind her back this entire time. Her face fell slightly when she saw the look he was giving her “What? You said to banter with Sweet Pea!”

“I mean…that was almost the exact the opposite of what I meant but,” he craned his neck to where Toni was ruffling Sweet Pea’s hair and Cheryl was wriggling her eyebrows at the eyerolling Della “I think it worked,” he continued pulling her close once more for a kiss.

“Okay, okay get a room!” Sweet Pea’s voice boomed, laughing when the two sprang apart “Hey Princess, you wanna learn how to play pool?”

#THIS IS THE WORST EVER BUT I NEEDED TO DO IT #also i changed it a little bit to fit better #ocappreciation #allaboutocs #toalltheocsivelovedbefore #Yazmin Kinsella #Yaz x Fangs #fic: Empty Gold #prompts #this is the first yaz thing i'm posting and it is tERRIBLE WHY AM I TAGGING IT IDK #my writing #yxpr

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jatamansi-arc · 7 years

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Shabbat Sh’mot 5777

20 January 2017 Rabbi Michael Adam Latz Shir Tikvah Congregation

Cry Unto Pharaoh!

ויקם מלך חדש על מצרים אשר לא ידע את יוסף

A new pharaoh rose up over Egypt who knew not Joseph. Now, when we ended the book of Genesis last week, Joseph and Pharoah had a close relationship—you remember how cozy those two were, saving all the Egyptians and the Children of Jacob by planning ahead; well, the Jews thought they had it made in the Egyptian shade. Not so much. Over the years, this new pharaoh strategically and intentionally made life more and more difficult for the Israelites: taking away their rights, enslaving them, beating them, challenging their basic dignity.

וַיֵּאָ נְ ח֧ ּו בְ נֵֵּֽ י־יִ שְ רָ אֵּ ֵ֛ ל מִ ן־הָ עֲבֹ דָ ָ֖ ה ַוִי ְזָָ֑עקּו

The Israelites groaned under the bondage and cried out;

The new pharaoh was cruel and paranoid, indecent and violent. So we cried out to God—

We cried out to resist tyranny. Because we knew in our bones that slavery and human dignity are incompatible.

Raise your hand if you know the name of the person who delivers your mail? How about the name of the person who picks up the garbage or the recycling or the compost from your house or apartment or condo? This is how white supremacy works, how racism works—it seduces us with a fallacious notion of radical individualism that says we can and must do everything on our own. But in reality, it isolates us so that we don’t even know the names of the people who are intimately involved in our lives: people who pick up our trash, serve our food, draw our blood, clean our streets. It divides us. It dehumanizes us. You want to be a religious person? Learn people’s names. Listen to their stories. Share your own. Break down those invisible but potent barriers. Story telling is a radical act of resistance.

Tonight is a night for stories.

I want you to know the names of two women who remade the world—and without whom, we wouldn’t be here tonight: Shiphrah and Puah.

Shiphrah and Puah were the midwives who delivered the Hebrew babies. And when Pharaoh decreed that all the Israelite boys must be killed (he got paranoid the Israelites would form a mass army and rebel), they engaged in history’s first act of civil disobedience. They refused to do what the almighty Pharaoh demanded.

Pharaoh was furious! “Why are you disobeying me?”

Shiphrah and Puah answered him, “The Hebrew women are vigorous! Their labor is so short—they give birth before we arrive.”

C’mon folks. Shiphrah and Puah lied. They lied to save those babies. They refused to destroy innocent human life because of the ravings of a megalomaniac lunatic. According the Egyptian legal system, they broke the law! But God rewarded them and their households.

And we remember Shiphrah and Puah—and their epic moral courage—this night.

The Exodus story recalls our people’s liberation from slavery to freedom. It wasn’t an easy road to freedom. You might remember the story? Moses didn’t walk up to Pharaoh in his palace one day and say, “You know Sir, we’d like to talk. You see, while we really enjoy working seven days a week in the hot Egyptian sun and don’t really mind our task masters beating us or throwing our baby boys in the Nile, we’ve decided that this just isn’t the right match for us Israelites. Thank you for your time, but we’re going to depart to worship our God in freedom. How does next Tuesday at noon work for you?”

C’mon!

This liberation wasn’t easy! Pharaoh’s heart was stone. The Israelites spent 400 years being treated like garbage. Moses had a hard time speaking in public and the people had Egypt in their hearts. Few of them could imagine a different life—a world where they were free. In fact, the rabbinic commentators explain that the Israelites couldn’t even hear Moses at first—mi-kotzer ruach v’avodah kashah—they were being worked so hard they couldn’t even breathe, much less imagine freedom.

That’s precisely why there were 10 plagues before Pharaoh let the Israelites go free. Why? To remind us that freedom doesn’t happen over night.

You and I—we’ve got a lot in common now with Shiphrah and Puah: as of noon today we are called to engage in ancient acts of resistance. We’re gonna get uncomfortable. Are you ready to get uncomfortable? Are you ready to disrupt business as usual?

That’s hard for a lot of us. We like things orderly. We’re Minnesotans. We’re nice.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. wrote in his famous letter from a Birmingham Jail, “I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection."

Today, in 2017, the same folks who are demanding a Muslim registry are likely some of the same folks calling in bomb threats to JCCs and bringing guns aplenty into mostly poor, mostly Black and Brown neighborhoods; they’re the same pharaohs who want to take social security away from old folks and health care away from the sick; and blame all our problems on Brown immigrants and Transpeople using public bathrooms as they engage in the cynical politics of division and distraction—all the while never doing a damn thing about Aleppo or the rising oceans or public education or building a bridge or creating a job for anyone not selling oil to Russia.

Those 10 plagues were as much to challenge the Egyptians and the Pharaoh as they were to show the Israelites that we had the power of endurance; the plagues helped the Israelites slaves build the requisite faith and the spiritual muscles to resist tyranny. We build faith step by step, story by story, person by person.

Those 10 plagues were the original politics of disruption; humanity’s boldest wake up call.

You beat these slaves? We’re gonna ruin your water!

You overwork these people? We’re gonna wreck your crops!

You won’t pay them? We’re gonna block your roads!

You won’t free them? We’re gonna turn off the lights!

You deny people their basic human dignity? We coming!

After 10 plagues, Pharaoh’s hardened heart finally shattered and our people marched to freedom!

Because enslaving people, discriminating against people, denying people their innate dignity is such a profound theological affront to God that business as usual just isn't possible. We must never forget where we've come from and who we are: We were slaves in the land of Egypt, you and I; those are the words we recite every Passover seder. This. Is. Personal. Human dignity is our ultimate theological concern. And when that means interrupting business as usual to break the chains of bondage, then it is both our religious inheritance and our moral obligation to rise up against the tyranny that prevents all people from being fully human.

In the next four years, I imagine there are pharaohs who will tell us— or tweet us—something that assaults the deepest promptings of our conscience. Will we stand in the moral breech like Shiphrah and Puah? In our hands will be the decision to join Pharaoh or to engage in moral resistance. Sometimes it will involve rallies and letter writing campaigns and testifying to legislative committees. At times, like Shiphrah and Puah we will be called to proclaim there is a higher, holier purpose and we must be emotionally, spiritually, and ethically prepared to do what is necessary to make manifest those ancient values. Values that cry out like the babies the midwives kept alive— because we know we cannot break that which is already broken—our task is alive with hope and compassion, promise, and redemption. This moment cries for our spiritual and moral resistance to normalizing hatred and violence against people who are different, who look different and pray differently—because we believe what we were taught when we first embraced Torah—that humanity was created in God’s image… That Love. Trumps. Hate.

The Exodus was a theological revolution. It is time for a new theological revolution, a new moral revival!

Every synagogue and mosque and church most now call ourselves to compassionate activism, to stand up for the poor, the stranger, the widow, the orphan, the poor, the sick, the immigrant, the Muslim, the Gays, the Trans, the person of color, the elderly, those with disabilities.

If our belief in God does not demand the mitzvot—the commandments—of love, compassion, generosity, and a robust commitment to healing our planet, if it is only focused inward, on the self, its simply narcissism.

The time has come for authentic people of faith to rise up and resist the blaspheming of our religious traditions: Jesus hung with the prostitutes in the hood, Moses crossed the border with a motley band for former slaves with no papers, and Muhammed proclaimed that our attachment to worldly possessions would destroy our ability to see God in the world.

It is time for a theological revolution in America:

A theological revolution where we wake up to the suffering around us and strive, together, to find ways to build a community and society with compassion as the cornerstone of our social policy and human dignity and mutual respect at the heart of our politics.

A theological revolution where people of faith proclaim that racism and sexism and the worship of guns are blasphemy and addressing mass violence and the need for decent public education and quality affordable health care and work that pays a sustainable and thriving wage are not merely rights in a civilized society; they are moral commitments we must make to one another and the next generation.

It is time for a theological revolution in America where we are willing to listen to people who disagree with us because we hold their humanity and our collective future in our hearts and because, to be a person of faith means that hope is a commitment we make to ourselves and to our children.

It is time for a theological revolution that brings to life the Golden rule—do nothing hateful to another human being precisely because we are our sister's and our brother's keepers.

And it is time for a theological revolution that says if and when we invoke the name of the Eternal we better be prepared to defend all of God's creatures and creation with every fiber of our bodies and souls—especially the ones who drive us bananas.

Today, we inaugurated a president who traffics in hatred and colludes with white supremacists. There are those who choose to cozy up to him and his administration, or worse: who suggest we wait and see. No! When you appoint a white supremacist as your chief adviser, when you nominate a man who does not believe in fairness to people of color as your attorney general, when you nominate a climate denier to head the Environmental Protection Agency, when you boast about grabbing women with impunity and you mock those with disabilities, when you threaten to register my Muslim sisters and brothers, when you threaten the health care of 18,000,000 of our fellow citizens, you have shown that you do not share the values of people of faith in this great nation. Our moral tasks are resistance, resilience, and repair.

We will not stand idly by while you make our neighbors and our planet bleed with the stench of xenophobia and racism and sexism. The prophet Elie Wiesel (z”l) taught that we might not be able to stop all injustice, but we’ll all be damned if we don’t try every chance we have.

Our moral task in the next four years is clear:

1. Resistance! Shiphrah and Puah paid attention to the challenges and the world around them. Disrupt and interrupt cruelty every time you witness it. Let no racist joke get finished, no sexist commentary to go unchallenged, no locker room talk be spoken in our presence, no rejection of people who look or pray or believe differently. This is what chutzpah looks like. It means defending what is right, speaking out, and resisting normalizing cruelty even when it doesn’t make you popular. Especially when it doesn’t make you popular.

2. Resilience. If you belong to Shir Tikvah or another spiritual community trying to live into our theological and moral commitments—awesome! If you are not yet a member, what are you waiting for? The only way we’re going to get through this moral swampland is by holding on and joining one another, fiercely. That means supporting the organizations who provide moral leadership in this time of moral crisis. We are powerful, together.

3. Repair. Show Up! Be present. Stretch Spiritually. We’re going to be asked to be present and it’s going to be hard. Its gonna be cold. (Its Minnesota folks; weather is always gonna happen). We’re gonna be tired. And still we need to show up. To rallies. To protests. To the halls of the State Capitol. To congress. To City Hall. As people of faith. Because we believe in human dignity and that our public leaders are servants of the public—not the other way around.

4. Finally, Keep Going. Eight years ago, then Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton spoke about a famous New Yorker, Harriet Tubman. Tubman, as you know, guided more than 300 slaves on the Underground Railroad, from the southern slave states to the free states in the north. “And on that path to freedom, Harriett Tubman had one piece of advice.

If you hear the dogs, keep going.

If you see the torches in the woods, keep going.

If they're shouting after you, keep going.

Don't ever stop. Keep going.

If you want a taste of freedom, keep going.

Even in the darkest of moments, ordinary Americans have found the faith to keep going.”

We who believe in freedom cannot rest.

We who believe in love, compassion, and human dignity cannot rest.

We who believe that ours is a nation of immigrants cannot rest.

We who believe in the equality, justice, and care for our planet cannot rest.

We who believe that Shiphrah and Puah were right and just when they defied Pharaoh’s immoral decree cannot rest. Keep going!

#jewish things #ooc #sort of #this is my synagogue's standard fare #and people wonder why i'm like #'ahh yeah erik lehnsherr is so jewish let me tell you'#what would ever give me that fucking impression ever

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sharionpage · 5 years

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The Voice Inside Your Head: Puzzle out the Mystery with 5 Straightforward Questions

The Self Improvement Blog | Self Esteem | Self Confidence

Since the rise of civilization, our ancestors tried to clear up the confusion about existence. Leaving no stone unturned is not a guarantee for getting to the bottom of this mystery. Over the course of thousands of years, notable figures from the past exerted themselves to break the spell of ignorance.

By quoting the famous phrase of Albert Camus, you’ll get a glimpse of what eminent personalities tried to convey:

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”

Hitting the nail on the head as a process proved to an arduous journey or an adventure that not everyone had the guts to embark upon.

In all honesty, resolving the enigma for the ordinary minds in the past was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Each habit supposedly poses a threat to unraveling the cause of empty-headedness, and hence a person had to embroil in this battle stripped of all mental and social concepts to get the idea.

The voice inside our heads is the alpha & omega in this regard; the real pillar of society, which stands behind every decision ever made. Everything that occurs is, in fact, a sheer projection of our own imagination that is fueled by the indisputable energy of the mind.

The following 5 Questions, will help you determine whether the Voice is your friend or your greatest adversary:

1. What is My Life Purpose?

You can spend a lifetime without even asking this question. The mainstream thought of the 21st century requires a new mindset which incites people to immerse in providing value for the community and perceive it as the ultimate goal. What life has in store for us no one knows, so there’s no point in untangling its clues, right?

Well, not quite!

Eckhart Tolle sums this up nicely by saying:

“You do not become good by trying to be good, but by finding the goodness that is already within you, and allowing that goodness to emerge.”

This generosity and graciousness ought to be the trigger for asking yourself the following question or use it as a stepping stone for overcoming mediocrity.

2. What are My Core Values?

Each morning is a chance to put your values and moral principles to the test. Each passing second you spend doing something acts as irrefutable proof of your intentions and strategies in life. If you are not aware of your urges, you are already drifting off course.

For a survivor, weighing your options and looking for a way out is probably the only path. The consequences of your actions are in tight correlation with your values that you’ve begun developing since the day of your birth.

The former US President Ronald Reagan during the Cold War conveyed mind-blowing words:

“The ultimate determinant in the struggle now going on for the world will not be bombs and rockets but a test of wills and ideas-a trial of spiritual resolve: the values we hold, the beliefs we cherish and the ideals to which we are dedicated.”

The theory of questioning your values is proving to be life-altering, especially for those who are still on the lookout for their innate skills.

3. If I Had a Magic Wand, How Would I Arrange My Life?

Just to be clear, you don’t have three wishes, just one to rearrange everything. How would your life unfold if you had all the power in the universe? Truthfully, these tendencies and demands emerge as a result of unfulfilled ambitions.

By now, the Voice dwelling inside you has found a good hiding spot from which it pulls the strings. Likewise, we are inclined to agree that our preferences had imprisoned us; we have become slaves of our personal creation.

In the meantime, you place confidence in these internal phenomena and refuse to acknowledge that you are no longer a force to be reckoned with.

Jose Eduardo dos Santos believes:

“There is no magic wand that can resolve our problems. The solution rests with our work and discipline.”

4. If I Fail in Accomplishing My Goals, What Would be My Next Step?

This is the bridge where most people show their backs and flee, and just a handful of individuals manage to cross it under “heavy fire” from the mind. In other words, this is the decisive point that makes or breaks a person.

Whatever misleading info you possess regarding the traits you require to come out a winner, at the end it all comes down to the mindset. The step you take after an eventual failure should serve as a reminder of your endurance and agility to cope with the pressure of today and tomorrow.

The habits you cultivate allude to all aspects of your personal agenda that you wish to enforce upon the world.

Napoleon Hill in one of his classics “Think and Grow Rich” shared his thoughts on the power of the mind:

“There are no limitations to the mind except those we acknowledge. Both poverty and riches are the offspring of thought.”

5. What Do I Love About This Life?

Is there something that you wouldn’t want to change? Something that keeps you motivated on a daily basis and lit a fire in your heart when the life-trajectory takes an unexpected turn. All things considered, you should really focus on these cheerful moments and nurture them.

This is, in fact, the breakthrough you’ve been waiting for so long. Refrain yourself from commenting and immersing in meaningless activities.

The bottom line is you should seize the day by being thankful for what you already have.

Let’s put Oprah on the line and hear what she has to say:

Be thankful for what you have; you’ll end up having more. If you concentrate on what you don’t have, you will never, ever have enough.

There you have it. Now I turn it over to you.

As Mark Twain said: Sail away from the Safe Harbor; allow the wind to lead the way. Turn on the adventurism by identifying the culprit which stops you from exploring the uncharted areas of life.

About the Author

Emir Zecovic likes to be perceived as the go-to guy for new ideas. A real poster boy for finding the right words which can be put into action. Momentarily, he offers his time, energy and heart to 12 Min. Blogging about productivity, self-help and personal development is his unquenchable passion; you can follow him on Facebook.

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