#i rise from the ashes to spread one agenda

[safereturn]

let me hold your hand (and dance around the flames)

Another Ember Island Players Fic Word Count: 1956 Zutara one-shot Read on ao3

Zuko is sure his shame will consume him, obliterate him, turn him to ashes and blow him away in the wind. The only evidence of his existence will be that awful play and the wake of destruction caused by his own implosion.

And yet, it pales in comparison to the anger flowing off the water bender walking beside him. Fearing retribution, he keeps his gaze steadily ahead, focusing on the trio walking in front of them. Sokka, Suki, and Toph chatter about their portrayal; Toph lets out a roar that sends Sokka yelping into Suki’s side. Suki laughs so hard she snorts and slaps Sokka’s back as his cheeks tinge red. 

Zuko bites back a snarky comment. It’s simply propaganda, the events told with the inevitable agenda of a Fire Nation playwright, but at least they were written as comic reliefs. 

They weren’t failures and traitors. 

As they approach his family’s old vacation home, Katara’s sandal gets caught in the transition of cobblestone to sand. She loses her balance, but just as Zuko reaches a steadying arm out toward her, she rights herself on her own. Aang huffs behind him. 

Not to mention the resentment radiating off the young Avatar. Aang all but limps toward the house like a wounded puppy, head tucked into his chest. 

Katara pulls away from the group and storms off toward shore, back stiff, fists tight. Zuko slows to a stop as he watches her. She marches on to the beach, right where the tide stops overlapping the sand, and slumps to the ground, knees to her chest. 

The rest of the group carries on into the house. Aang sends one last glare at Zuko, then runs up the stairs and slams the door behind him, rattling the frame and sending an explosion of sound that evacuates nearby cicada-crickets from the trees. 

Zuko feels his chest constrict at the thought of following them inside the house. He isn’t claustrophobic–years spent at sea on a Fire Navy cruiser in close quarters with his crew desensitized him to any fears of being too enclosed. But there was a sort of heat burning under his skin. He was restless and itchy. Like if he walked into that house, he would explode, bringing the walls down around him in a terrible blaze.

Zuko glances over to the silhouette of Katara sitting in the sand again, still hunched, gently swaying back and forth with the tide. He’d seen her move like this once before, flying high over the ocean on Appa, the rain coming down around them. 

After confronting her mother’s killer, Katara had been near catatonic. They’d walked away from the quaking old man, but the further they got, the more she had withdrawn. Zuko had helped her climb onto Appa’s back, and she collapsed onto the saddle and stared blankly ahead. She might have been crying, but the rain had cast everything in a haze. As if it were all a dream. And then, like a child being comforted by a mother, she rocked herself side to side. 

She hadn’t spoken to him until they landed back at camp, and Katara had thrown her arms around him and granted him forgiveness. He remembers the warmth of her body against his, it had spread through his chest and she gave him a gentle squeeze before letting him go.

Zuko decides he would rather drown at her hand than suffocate amongst childhood memories. He approaches her as one would approach an injured turtle duck, softly and with no sudden movements.

“Go to bed, Aang.” Katara’s words are thick, tinged with finality that left no room for argument. It doesn’t escape him how maternal she sounds, as if she were scolding a petulant child. 

“It’s me,” he says. Karara peeks at him over her shoulder, then looks out toward the ocean. “I can go further down the shore if you want to be alone,” he offers, “but I’d rather not be in the house right now.”

He watches her shoulders rise as she fills her lungs with a long breath. Then, slowly, she places a hand on the sand beside her and gives it a pat. 

“You can stay.” She sounds tired now, but her tone is softer than her previous chiding. 

He sits cross legged beside her, sitting a little closer than intended, his shoulder brushing against hers. Zuko’s nerves were raw, his fingers had been trembling since the end of the first act. The gentle warmth of Katara’s arm against his was like an anchor, grounding him, giving him something to brace against. She doesn’t acknowledge it, she simply sways into him, then back, her chin resting atop her knees. 

“I’m sorry about tonight,” Zuko says. “That wasn’t a good play.”

Katara raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t write the play, Zuko.”

“No.” He grabs a handful of sand, it’s clumpy and coarse, still damp. Zuko squeezes it in his hand, then lets it crumble between his fingers. He does it again. “I'm just– sorry. I’m sorry you had to relive that. Relive me.”

She’s examining him. Zuko doesn’t dare make eye contact, but his skin prickles at the heat of her gaze on his face. It travels down his arms, to his hands, until she’s watching the grains of sand trickle between his fingertips. 

Again, he feels too large. He waits for his skin to burst open. 

“That wasn’t you on that stage, Zuko.”

“It was all the things I’ve done. All the ways I’ve hurt people.” 

How much good would he have to do to counter balance all the bad? Terrorizing citizens for any knowledge about the Avatar, burning down villages…

The Catacombs under Ba Sing Se.

The look of terror on Katara’s face, the smell of burning flesh, the cry that tore itself from her lips as she fought to get to Aang, fought to get them to the surface, fought against Azula, fought against him.

The look of anguish on Uncle’s face as he fought to keep Aang and Katara safe. 

Zuko chokes on a shuddering breath. His skin burns, his chest burns, his eyes burn.

“I’ve hurt so many people.”

So much blood.

Katara grasps his hand, grains of sand gently chafing against skin as she twines their fingers together. “Stop,” she whispers. “That was not you on that stage.”

His mind stutters, trying to pull himself from the memories. Katara squeezes his hand once and brushes her thumb over his knuckles. Back and forth. He sucks in a breath, then lets it whoosh out of his lungs. The tension in his shoulders drops. 

“You have done more than enough, Zuko.”

Enough. 

If there is wetness on his cheeks, Katara doesn’t mention it. She simply keeps rubbing soothing circles in his skin with her thumb. They watch the waves crash over the horizon.

 “Maybe I should apologize to Aang,” Zuko says, thinking of Aang’s glare. 

He can feel her deflate next to him, slumping into herself. Katara presses her face into her knees and heaves a sigh.

“He’s not angry with you,” she mumbles.  

“You didn’t see the look he gave me.”

Katara shakes her head and with a shrug says, “He’s angry with me. We had a fight at intermission.”

“What could he possibly be mad at you for?” Zuko saw the way Aang looked at Katara. He worshiped the ground she walked on, what could she have done that was so bad? And why would Aang take it out on him?

“It’s complicated.”

Zuko huffs. It’s not quite a laugh. “Try me.”

Katara gives him an uncertain look, then turns her gaze back to the ocean. Just when Zuko thinks she’ll ignore him, her voice breaks over the sound of the waves.

“Aang had… a hard time distinguishing between the play and reality. Ever since we met we’ve been really close. For months it was just me, Sokka, and Aang. And then Toph joined and it was the four of us. I always trusted them with my life, but it felt like Aang was on my side when Sokka and Toph pushed me too hard. He helped me through some pretty bad things, and I helped him, too.

“I found him in an iceberg, so I was possessive , I guess. He was going to save the world. My world. And I would have done anything–” Karata’s voice cuts off, followed by a frenetic breath. The waves wash higher on the shore, in time with her quick breaths. The water sweeps against their feet.

“I would have done anything to make him happy. He’s my best friend and of course I love him, but what he wants...” Katara heaves a shuddering breath. And then another. Her next words come quickly, garbled. “It’s too much. I’m trying to win a war, and so is he! But I can’t–I feel like I can’t even breathe.”

And then Katara makes an awful sound, a low whine cut off by a choked gasp. And then, even worse, she’s apologizing .

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, pulling her hand from his and swiping under her eyes. “This is stupid, just like that ridiculous actress.” Her hands leave behind grains of white sand on her cheeks. 

And for the first time, Katara looks defeated. Not even nine months ago, in a much colder continent, with her family's lives at stake and only a water whip to protect them did she look so small. She had built herself up with fury, indignation. She made up for what she didn’t know in determination. 

Now, with her eyes squeezed shut and shoulders hunched, there was nothing she could fight to make this hurt go away.

Zuko is at a loss for how to comfort her, and he hates himself for it. She so effortlessly brought him from the edge of panic. Forgave him when he was the face of everything that was taken from her. 

He thinks of her arms thrown around his neck. Her thumb brushing circles into his hand.  

And he does what he should’ve done when Katara sat numbly in Appa’s saddle. Zuko pulls Katara into his side, tucks her head into his shoulder, and hugs her. He winds his arms around her back, and sways her gently, his chin tucked over top of her head. Katara lets out a whimper, and then her arms circle around his waist. She buries her face into the crook where Zuko’s neck meets his shoulder. 

For a moment, all there is is the roar of the waves and his stiffness. He doesn’t want to jostle her, spook her. But her fists clench handfuls of his shirt and she is shaking, chest heaving with silent sobs. 

Zuko thinks of his mother and turtle duck bites and cries met with warm arms and soothing whispers. And he sways her, side to side, soothing a hand down her hair. She smells of sea salt and the old bath oils left in the wet room.

“Okay,” he says into her hair, “okay.”

It’s not okay. Zuko knows what it’s like to collapse under the weight of expectation, knows what it’s like to choke on the disappointment of others, knows the taste of desperation. It had almost killed him, back in that apartment in Ba Sing Se. And when he’d made it back to the Fire Nation on the basis of Aang’s murder, there were times he wished the fever had taken him. 

So much pain.

“Nothing like the actress,” he says. There is wetness and sand and shuddering breaths against his neck. “You are strong, this is strength.”

Katara takes a deep breath. Then another.

The waves wash back out to the ocean and quiet to a lull.

“You’ve given more than enough."

#zutara #avatar the last airbender #atla #is it romantic or platonic? squint at it and let me know what you find #zuko #katara #ember island players #ember island players fic #fanfiction #safereturn write fanfic #zuko has a panic attack #katara shoulders too many burdens #a civil wars song as a fic title #zutara fanfiction #Zutara fic #there is hugging #hurt/comfort #safereturn writes fanfic

[herstory5]

The Land of Paz

Our current society is plagued in a history of inequity and injustice. Marginalized members of society do not have the access needed to grow, thrive, and survive! “In order to rise from its own ashes a phoenix first must burn.” Butler (1993). These are the words that motivated me to create a new society, out of the ash from todays. These are the words that helped me to gather other like minds to rise up.

I envision a society opposite of our current. My society will be called, Land of Paz. It can be found 20 years from now off of a remote island. This is a future society full of sweeping landscapes, purple hills, blue skies, crystal clear waters and evergreen forest. There will be many species of animals and plants in the forest that are adapted to living there. Everyone has the same rights and opportunities. This will be a utopian society where people of all backgrounds are able to collaborate and live together harmoniously. Land of Paz will offer global citizenship to the ‘pure of heart.’ This society will be free of crime, famine, disease, pollution, domination and corruption. All racist, xenophobes, homophobes, supremacist, and vile humans have no place in the Land of Paz. Totalitarianism is exiled in this society. A protective layer shields the land from anyone who is hate-fueled.

Throughout history patriarchy has dominated society. In Land of Paz, I envision an elimination of any form of totalitarianism and an equitable distribution of wealth and power for all humanity within the community. The fundamental goal of this society is to end dominance, supremacy and promote unity and solidarity. In this utopia, everyone has the same freedoms, liberties, and responsibilities. There is no discrimination based on sexual orientation or gender identity. In this society, people are not marginalized because of race, class, status, gender or sexual orientation.

Land of Paz will be run by a public-run government which thrives off universal healthcare for everyone. There will be no crisis from global warming since all human activities are sustainable in this society, which will help it to thrive and survive. Conservation is essential in this society. We use the lands offerings as our nutrition, we harvest, respect, and treat our land as a living entity. To protect humanity, creatures, and ecosystems, it is essential to reduce emissions of greenhouse gases and adapt to the effects of climate change. Improved air quality and less water needed for energy generation are two additional benefits of solar power. In the Land of Paz, our sustainability is provided by solar energy and ‘Paz Herbs.’ Our solar energy produces a living molecule that triples the growth production of our plants, and one herbs. Our ‘Paz Herbs’ (peace herbs) are infused with vitamins and minerals that promote well-being, energy, fights off disease and results in longer lifespan. Our waters are the fountain of youth. The same molecule filtrates into the water supplies and contributes to the growth and sustainability of this society. All ‘Paz’citizens work together to sustain it.

 Education is essential in this society and shall be free. There will be fewer demands on students to get perfect marks and more on learning the subject matter. Compared to what we're witnessing now, students are being forced to study subjects that aren't of interest to them but serve the government's agenda, tests and exams are racially and socially class bias. Personal growth and a firmer commitment to upholding universal freedoms and rights will be central goals of education in Land of Paz. Education must support the upholding of paz (peace) and the spread of mutual appreciation, tolerance, and friendship among all living creatures. With personal growth and development lessons, we will encourage young people to follow their passions and learn to think critically. Students will take greater pride in their education if they are given options from which to choose. Additionally, there will be no memory erasure of history. Critical Race Theory will be indoctrinated into the educational institutions and lessons implemented into the curriculum of K-12.

The Land of Paz is a society in which social awareness and love for all humanity takes the place of religious doctrine and ideology. The primary objective would be for the populace to abandon their various religions and unite under a shared commitment to values of love, prosperity, peace, equality, and spirituality. We will apply these words into our ‘Paz’ morale, “All that you touch you change. All that you change changes you...God is change.” Butler (1993). These words will serve to fuel our society with hope. As a result, there will be fewer opportunities for animosity and opposition, and more incentive for people to work together toward a single goal: a world without hatred. God's love will guide our interactions with one another. Music and dance will serve as the culture within this society. It will be what keeps our faith and hope strong and what continues to bind us to our ancestors. Our ancestors will be closely connected to all ‘paz’ humanity and will serve to guide and ground us.

#dystopia #afrofuturism #parable of the sower #octavia butler #climate action #climate change #black femininity #black feminism

[goldenlie]

If I was a gambling man I would all in on a Georgebur MCC team announcement

#i rise from the ashes to spread one agenda #perhaps techno too considering him and George recently recorded together #i say recent it was a month ago #side note if the anon sees this i havent watched the dream smp in weeks but i will answer eventually #georgenotfound #wilbur soot #mcyt #wilbur #platonic -> #georgebur

[astraeagreengrass]

The Queen's Husband [3/?]

When her reign is threatened, the Queen of Ergona must find a husband to secure her throne.

Word Count: 2.096

Warnings: None! English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

A/N: No one is free from apprehension - not even queens! Luckily for our queen, she has found herself a pretty nice fiancé! This chapter is a little short and not exactly what I wanted it to be, but I decided to post it right away instead of keeping on battling my writer's block. I hope you like it! And, as always, thank you to the lovely, kind, generous people that take the time to read, comment and reblog. I appreciate you ♡

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Marble archways and red-orange torches were the only witnesses to yours and Steve’s late night conversations.

Your hand was in his as you ambled. It was fairly inappropriate, even if you were engaged, but you couldn’t help it in the darkness of the hallway. The touch of Steve’s skin was thrilling and your palm was sweating from the adrenaline coursing through your veins. The feeling was brand new and fantastic.

This tradition was something you both committed to once Steve moved to the palace, three weeks after your betrothal: he’d escort you to your chambers at dusk, the only moment you could talk in private, even if it sometimes meant you had to whisper. Every other hour of the day you were surrounded by your handmaids, advisors and political allies and you weren’t keen on them listening to your conversations with the Captain; not when the butterflies you first felt in the rose courtyard were still there, brewing a storm in your stomach whenever you gaze met his.

Growing up as the heir to the throne of the Ergona, you’d been extensively schooled since your earliest days. Politics, mathematics, geography, english and other languages, diplomacy… You excelled in many topics, having been taught by the most brilliant minds in the world. Love, however, had never been in your syllabus.

Queens weren’t taught the ways of love and, as such, it was never your priority. Knowing you’d most likely marry for duty, with a suitor chosen by others, you focused on becoming a good ruler - a fair and honorable sovereign, born to love Ergona rather than a spouse. 

Steve’s confession had terrified you - not because you didn’t believe him but because you did. You weren’t lying when you said you thought he was a good man and maybe that was why his love for you was so mystifying. Steve was handsome, loyal and kind-hearted. He could have any woman he wanted and yet he chose to love the one who built walls around her heart higher than those surrounding the Dragon Keep in Albeon. 

Wariness was a hard lesson to learn but a necessary one: trusting the wrong person could cost you your kingdom, your crown and your life. No one told you how hard it would be – the loneliness and the doubt – but a Queen’s life was full of sacrifices. Yet now, every night after you bid your goodbyes to the Captain and laid to rest on soft feather pillows, your past decisions and insecurities kept you awake, taunting your mind with “what ifs” and lost possibilities. 

What if you’d smiled more? 

What you’d been less cold?

What if you’d been more talkative?

Maybe then you’d know what to do with the snake coiling around your lungs, crushing your breath while it screamed you were not good enough. Not for Steve and not for Ergona. 

After every sleepless night, you’d watch the sun rise. The golden glow would slowly but surely spread across the inky sky, making way for dawn. It made you think of Steve and the way the blonde strands of his hair reflected that same light: your fiancé, blessed by Helios himself.

Amidst the anxiety, his presence was soothing. It confused you how the cause of your worries could also be their healing balm. Your days, as busy and hectic as they were, now suddenly revolved around the prospect of these slow walks to your chambers, the dark shadows of the castle’s walls mere bystanders to the way Steve was carefully, day-by-day, breaching through the queen’s careful armor until he found the woman.

It was scary but exhilarating.

Your conversations were easygoing and light-hearted. He’d ask about your childhood, your life in Foghar, your favorite color and favorite foods. In turn you’d question him about growing up in West Ergona, his days in the military and his travels.

You learned Steve was a sickly child who dreamed of being a soldier. His best friend was named Bucky Barnes - “he’s a punk”. He loved visiting Asgard because it reminded him of his mother and was very grateful to Abraham Erskine, the doctor who healed him.

Steve never inquired about your political agenda or demanded to be part of small council meetings. Much to Lord Fury’s chagrin, while you sat in stuffy rooms negotiating tax administration, the Captain could likely be found training archery with Master Barton. 

He was tanned from his moments spent outside in the summer air. His already impressive muscles were bulging and his smiles were relaxed and frequent, as if joy itself had made a home in him. You’d never seen him so carefree.

Outside the fortress domains, Ergona thrived with the news of your nuptials. Apparently, there was nothing like a royal wedding to lift the nation’s spirits after a war and - unsurprisingly - the prospect of Steve becoming the new King was very exciting.

For the first time in your reign, you welcomed Western emissaries to the royal palace, including Steve’s father, the Duke of Arvenia, who was absolutely delighted with his son’s good fortune. A short, balding man who resembled Steve very little, the Duke arrived with an entourage of musicians, dancers and even his personal painter. His golden cape could rival a lion’s mane and his necklace was encrusted with the finest emeralds. A feathered beret completed his look, making him look every inch an exotic peacock. 

Despite the obvious luxury he surrounded himself with, the Duke wasted no time asking how profitable the engagement would be to his duchy. Steve was flabbergasted with his father’s audacity, his face turning a shade of red that could rival his stepmother’s rubies - a girl even younger than you were. In an attempt to soothe him, you placed your hand over your fiancé’s, delicately saying that if the Duke of Arvenia had any questions regarding the marriage, he should take them to Lady Natasha. 

She would sort him out.

You'd gripped Steve’s hand on instinct, your body’s automatic response to his discontent. It was organic, as if your own senses were attuned to his - perfectly synchronized.

When you felt him relax you let it go, even if the loss of his skin left an unpleasant tingling sensation. You weren’t expecting for him to grip you hand again a few hours later, under the dinner table, as Lord Pierce - an obnoxious marquess from West Ergona - made you uncomfortable by suggesting Steve’s virility would surely grant him many sons.

His answer to Pierce, in the same commanding tone he spoke to his soldiers with - made the older man wither like a flower in a snowstorm.

“I hope our first child is a girl, so that she may follow her mother’s footsteps and become a great Queen".

He then proceeded to toast to his words, his wishes dying in a smirk of wine-stained lips.

It was how you ended here, wooden soles clicking on the stone slabs of the corridor. After the second course you excused yourself from the dining hall. You thought Steve would chose to stay with his relatives - according to Natasha, he hadn’t seen his father in three or so years - but he rose from the table as you did, not even biding his farewells.

You missed the way Lord Stark pulled his squire from his belt, preventing poor Peter Parker from escorting you and Steve. No one else dared to follow you and, as soon as you left the room, Steve's hand reached for yours again - bolder this times, fingers entwining in a move so similar to the way his own soul was twisting and wrapping around yours. 

You walked in silence for the first time. No conversation to appease the tension or divert your mind from the heat shared between your palm and his?

As usual, once they saw you approaching, the two guards that kept watch outside your chamber’s door exited to grant you privacy. They’d return once Steve left.

The Captain cleared his throat and spoke:

“In Asgard, where my mother was from, it is customary for a man to give a ring to the woman he is betrothed to. It is a promise of his commitment to her until the wedding day.” 

From his jacket pocket Steve removed a navy blue velvet pouch. Long fingers loosened the cord that held the pouch closed - dexterous with a sword but delicate to the touch - and a ring fell on his palm.

The oval stone was the same shade as the velvet cloth - midnight indigo, dark as the depths of the ocean that crashed in Ergona’s shore. Dozens of tiny diamonds surrounded it, twinkling lazily in the warm firelight glow. Even more diamonds made up the ring band - and opulent jewel, made of the finest gems dig up from western mines and handcrafted by the greatest jewelers at the Duke of Arvenia’s disposal.

Too opulent for you and Steve knew that.

“I know it’s too much” he said apologetically. “My father is known for his grand gestures. But I miss my mother dearly. This ring is the only heirloom of hers I have left. I know it’s not your style, but it I would if you accepted it as a token of my affections.”

There he was, breaking down your walls again. Every carefully placed defense crumbled in the presence of his words, scattering to ashes when you couldn’t find dishonesty in them. You found yourself divided: one Y/N was rational, overzealous and logical, screaming at the top of her lungs to halt the other - wide-eyed and ingenue, desperate to break-free and be loved. It was the second one who said:

“Doesn’t Asgardian tradition say that the groom should place the ring on the bride’s finger?”

Steve beamed - a beautiful stretch of lips and cheeks and eye crinkles. He smiled with his whole face, making you wish for broad daylight so that you could better commit to the loveliness of it.

He slid the ring on the fourth finger of your left hand. The jewel was even heavier than it looked, engulfing your digit in blue lavishness. Delicately, Steve traced a line from the base of your finger towards your wrist.

“This is the vena amoris. It runs from your left ring finger straight to your heart. I hope you can see this ring and remember that my own heart belongs to you.”

He continued.

“And, if you allow me, I will cherish your heart as you have cherished mine.”

“How could I have cherished you heart if I didn’t know of your… feelings?” you replied. 

 He laughed - a short, breath-like laugh that tickled your nose.

“You did so by being you. That is enough for me.”

“I don’t know how to do this” you whispered, mentioning to the space between you, yet meaning it as more than the inches separating you. 

“Neither do I” he took your other hand in his - limbs and worries and dreams laced together in the  dark. “But I’m willing to try if you are.”

Wordlessly, you nodded, cracking a small smile as you swallowed your tears. You didn’t cry easily,  but you found yourself getting more and more emotional the longer you shared Steve’s presence.

With his thumb he caressed the outside of your eye, temple, nose, then slid it downwards and traced your lips. Gently, as if touching a cloud, he took you chin in his grip.

When Steve's lips touched yours, the butterflies in your stomach broke free from their prison,  spreading their crazy fluttering to your heart, your skin, your mouth. It was quick - the briefest of pecks - but it still left you breathless and wide-eyed.

“I'm sorry” he muttered, mistaking your awe for consternation. “That was too bold. Your Grace, …”

Raising your hand, you interrupted him.

“Don’t apologize, I beg of you. I’m just… overwhelmed. I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Now it was his turn to be surprised.

“Our acquaintanceship is changing me. Being in your company is bringing to life so many things I never wondered about or deemed important. In so many aspects I feel like a new person. And it's disconcerting but rewarding. You make me feel happy.”

“And I don’t know what this means or where this will take us but I hope you’re not afraid of going there with me. Because I’d hate to be alone again.”

“Your Grace…” Steve started but you interrupted him again.

“And I order you to stop calling me Your Grace. At least when we're alone”

Then, in a move that astonished both Steve and yourself, you rose to your tiptoes and kissed him again.

#steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #king!steve #king!steve rogers #king!steve x reader #king!steve rogers x you #king!au #marvel!au #marvel fanfiction

[sit-down-businessman]

Note: please go easy on me, this is my first posted fic, ever. Feedback highly welcomed! Will probably get edited later cause I guarantee I forgot something.

I hope to add chapters in the future...not 100% sure where I see this going yet.

************************************

Left Unsaid

Pairing: bakugou x reader

Warnings: cursing, sexual situation implied if you squint hard enough, eventual angst?

**************************************

Life was complicated.

As if that wasn't the most cliche thing possible. But why should you complain? You had almost everything you could want, including growing closer and closer with your boyfriend each passing day. Just about every hobby the two of you had complimented each other in some form.

His love off his Playstation went perfectly with your obsession of watching YouTube gamers.

Your green thumb helped provide fresh herbs and veggies for the dinners he loved to make.

The DSLR camera that rarely strayed from your bag was perfect for capturing pictures of the two of you overlooking the most beautiful views after a long hike.

Katsuki was everything you could have asked for. It was because of that strong connection that you grew worried.

As much as you loved the hot-headed Ground Zero, you knew he wasn't the one.

The first words he said to you did not match the ones so clearly inked on your right wrist. Thick leather straps often adorned that bit; a feeble attempt at denial.

You were head over heels for your man, soul mate be damned. It could be years, decades even, before the possibility of even meeting them.

Big if. Huge if.

You wouldn't let it invade your thoughts too far. The moment you were currently in was close to perfection and you subtly pinched your arm for proof that you were indeed awake.

Laying down across his bed, you watched as Katsuki took his stress out on the trap set in the corner of his room. How not one neighbor complained about the noise was beyond you.

Probably for the fact that he could be somewhat...slightly...intimidating, you figured. You were the only one fully immune to his scathing comments and screaming. He was like a teddy bear to you.

An angry, loud teddy bear.

The silence in the room snapped you from your thoughts. You focused your eyes on Katsuki and saw him staring right back at you. "Am I in those daydreams somewhere?" he asked, setting his beaten drumsticks across his snare.

You gave him a smirk and a raised eyebrow. "Kittens and hand grenades. So, close enough."

He let out a soft, quick chuckle and you saw his eyes flash downwards.

To your wrist.

Somehow during your mind wandering, your left hand had grabbed the leather wrap and was fidgeting with it.

"Am I a feral kitten, at least?"

You sat yourself up on his bed. "You wish. You're the cuddliest, cutest fluffball in the litter." You moved your hand up and ran it through your hair.

"You know," he started, standing up from the drum set and making his way over to you. "If anyone else but you said that, they'd be ash by now." He placed his hands on your hips and your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck.

"I guess we're both lucky I'm me, then." A devious smile played at your lips.

"Very much so," he agreed. "Or what I'm about to do to you next wouldn't be nearly as fun."

And with those words, he showed you why.

Over and over.

*********************************************

The morning sunshine found it's way past the sliver of window not covered by heavy curtains, straight to your face. Letting out a soft groan, you reached your arm behind you, only to find the bed empty.

"Damn you, early bird," you fussed. I wanted morning cuddles.

You heard Katsuki's voice from the living room and mentally calculated the possibility of dragging him back into bed for a lazy day. As your mind finally started to wake up and focus, you could make out your boyfriend's side of the conversation.

"Yeah, I know. It's been forever. Being a Pro Hero takes up most of my time, what's your excuse?"

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was mentally puffing out his chest.

"Domesticated, my ass."

Another eye roll.

"For sure. I'll see when she has a day off and get back to you...

...It'll be good to see you again too, bro. It's been too long."

Wow. For one of his conversations to not contain true insults or profanity was rare---

"Yeah, yeah. Fuck off."

---and there it was. It was an affection insult (for him), at least.

A few minutes passed without hearing his voice and you realized his phone call had ended. Curiosity won the battle over your laziness and you pushed yourself out of bed. Pulling open the door of the closet you shared with your other half, you didnt so much as glance at the side that held your shirts. Instead, your eyes fell onto his half, searching for one of the shirts you "only borrowed" from "time to time".

"Bingo" you said in triumph, pulling his faded Avenged Sevenfold shirt from its hanger. That and the boy shorts you were wearing were sure to catch his eye.

And you loved driving him mad.

Adding the cherry on top (you threw your hair up in a messy high bun), you walked out of your bedroom and made your way to the kitchen.

The smell of coffee had hit you as soon as you opened the bedroom door, and you followed it like something out of a cartoon. As you tried reaching up on your tiptoes to grab your favorite mug, you heard Katsuki coming out of his home office. You got your coffee together (more cream and sugar than dirty bean water), not realizing you had a pair of red eyes watching you from the doorway. It wasnt until your first sip that you could feel him behind you. You lifted your arms in an obvious fake stretch, feeling the shirt rise above your waist, knowing just where his eyes were looking now.

Still set on your lazy day, you turned around to find yourself face to face with your man. You could instantly tell he knew what you were trying to do by the raised eyebrow that greeted you.

"Morning, hot stuff," you said, nuzzling into his chest. "What's on the agenda today?" You pulled away to take another sip from your C-UNT mug. You let out an audible moan when the caffeine once again passed your lips.

"Well," he started, wrapping his arms around your waist, "I do have the day off..." he kissed your forehead and you sighed when you felt his warm lips on your skin. "A friend of mine from UA is in town for a few days. We were throwing around the idea of meeting up at the fair."

You stared up at your boyfriend in disbelief. Mr. Hardass. Mr. "I can't, I have to work."

Katsuki Bakugou wanted to go to the county fair.

"It wasn't my suggestion," he said to you, sensing the raised eyebrow you were giving him.

"I figured as much." You got onto your tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Today? The second day of the fair always has the best vendors."

"I'll give him a call back, but I'm sure that will work."

**********************************************

Almost two hours later, you and Katsuki were parking just outside of the fairgrounds. You could see the various rides lit up and whirring, and a packed crowd bustling around.

No matter how hard you tired to hold it back, a smile spread across your face at the thought of dragging your man to every single ride the grounds held.

Even the kiddie ones, if he complained.

Katsuki flipped through his phone quick before speaking. "They're running behind-"

"They? I thought it was just 'he'?"

"He dragged one more along. They'll be here in an hour or so."

You grinned.

"Perfect."

*********************************************

Rides never bothered Katsuki much, maybe because of how he constantly blasted himself around on a regular basis. The only time he seemed to cringe was when you started screaming by his ear on the Zipper ride.

When it came to the games, however, his competitive side shown through in all its glory. You had found a stall that showcased stuffed, cartoonish versions of Pros, and gave him puppy eyes when you found the giant version of your hunny as a top prize. It took close to $50 to win it, but Katsuki was determined to get it for you.

"Yeah, I see it," he said into his phone, looking off to the right. "See you in a second." He clicked the lock button and put it back into his pocket. "They're over there...somewhere."

You were excited to meet another of his friends. Most of who you knew were from his agency, sidekicks mainly, and the couple times you guys bumped into "that damn Deku."

As you two walked up to the funnel cake stand, you heard a shout. "Bakugou! Dude!"

You turned your head and saw someone you already recognized. "Wait...that's Chargeb-"

"Don't," Katsuki warned, squeezing your hand. "If he knows that *you know* who he is, he'll never stop."

"Who won't stop what?"

Chargebolt was standing right in front of you.

"Y/n, meet Kaminari. The first of tonight's extras."

"I'm still waiting on one good word from you." Chargebolt sighed at Katsuki. He turned his attention to you. "So, you're the one that tamed the wild Bakugou."

The smirk you gave betrayed Katsuki's growl. You debated calling your boyfriend a teddy bear, but you knew that would lead to no good.

You'd risk it.

"He's an absolute t-" you started.

"BAKUGOU!" you heard a voice bellow from twenty feet away.

The three of you turned to the shout, and you were once again star struck.

"That's..." you faded off. His hair was different than usual; It fell downward, opposed to its usual spikiness. But you knew that face.

"Dude. You're late." Katsuki said to his friend.

Pro Hero Red Riot chuckled at him. He looked at you with a boyish smile. "Better late than never!"

Your heart dropped as your wrist burned. You instinctively pulled your hand towards you, but Katsuki's grip was tight. Looking up at him, you saw a mix of fear and anger fill his face.

Red Riot looked confused. "Right?"

You couldn't speak. You weren't sure if it was from being stunned or fear of returning words.

Looking at the man you loved, you turned heel and ran towards the exit, gripping your stuffed prize tight.

Red Riot.

The Red Riot.

Katsuki's best friend.

Was your soul mate.

#mha #bakugou katuski x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader

[warhammergoldenera]

ELDAR PART 2: #5 EXODITES You know that army everyone says their going to do, and then you never see anyone doing it? You know that concept that seems kind of bizarre and niche, but is always kind of fun when you think about it? Lets cut the bull, do you know about the Exodites? Yeah you know the ones I mean. The Eldar who where smart enough from the get go to realize that shit was gonna hit that fan. And by hit we mean, the shit was a dirty nuclear bomb, and the fan was spinning at Mach 10, and no one within a 1 million light year radius of it was going to not get shit on them? The Eldar that if they had a proper army dex, would probably be Toughness 4, Strength 5 and could break an Aspect warrior over their knee? Well fear not, because the Chaos Druid is here to tell you how it may be possible to have these “Salt of the Earth” Style Eldar as a force. -First off, the lore. The Exodites as we all know, where those Eldar who, at the time before the fall realized what was going to happen, and after trying to tell the rest of their race that the liberal agenda was a bad idea, went fuck it and took off for the distant Eastern fringe of the galaxy. Abandoning much of what their race had achieved, these highly attuned seer like Eldar went and settled many a wild and dangerous world. You could say they where Mountain Men of their race. Minus the Buckskins. When establishing a concept for your army, it should be important to note these sorts of things, and mayhap research our own real world history, looking for those who left behind more advanced surroundings to wander the wilds and tame or become a part of their new surroundings. Besides, whats not to like when coming up with a how did your army tame mutha fuck’n dinosaurs for an army concept than to read about people who did much the same thing? 

-How to represent it? This is the big hurdle to Exodites. GW never did give these backwoods space elves a codex of their own (sometimes I wonder if they where meant to be a mirror to wood elves from WHF) and so you have to be able to work a little bit of magic to bring them to the table. There are two ways of doing this: 1: Use a community created and tested Codex. This one is pretty simple. There are loads of communities on the net who enjoy making non-official but professional quality dexs that never existed, or that did and got left behind. This can be a good place to start if your unsure what exact kinds of units and characters you want to try and represent on the table. 2: Do a “Counts as army.” While this may seem a bit less interesting than going out in search of a quality fan made dex, believe it or not, counts as armies and models are some of the funnest challenges in the hobby. After all, who says you have to stick to one area? When it comes to a race as wide spread as the eldar, you can use all kinds of lists to represent your Exodites. From IA books, to the various inner factions and old codexes, you have a wealth of pre-made stats and rosters for your army, and it may even inspire you to create a Home Brew Dex of your own for use with friends and fellow Exodite fans, it can even be a group project!

-Modeling. Ah yes the next big hurdle in your quest to make this awesome idea come to life. But lucky for us, in this day and age of vast miniatures Renaissance, your never short on companies who produce all sorts of models for use in creating your own flavor of Exodites. Even the GW ranges can be put together via the various universes and factions to give rise to a unique and conversion heavy Exodite host. It’s these kind of armies that GW once upon a time used to really try and get their community interested in. Your own imagination is the only limit when making a fully converted army, and since everyone likes Dinosaurs, dragons, and laser guns, well, who isn;t going to have plenty of models ripe for bits fodder and base construction? 

-So then next, whats your theme? After all, Exodites can be as various as their craftworld kin. They don’t all have to be from the same sort of planet, or even have the same sort of unit arrangement. Think first to yourself, what wild and possibly feral world has my army tamed and guards as their own? Are they Jungle style folk, Eldar survivalists of the deepest jungle worlds know to the galaxy who could give catachans are run for their money? Taming giant lizard like creatures and avian like Dinosaurs for use in war, while using mainly Stealth and Guerrilla style tactics against invaders, blending seamlessly into the Jungle foliage to strike while using the elements of their home world to wear down an enemy, Maybe they are a desert folk. Having traversed the sands of a barren wasteland planet in the style of Dune. (Dune….Eldar. Ok I may have to do this now) and have grown hardy and strong from the unforgiving conditions. Training and using burrowing and dangerous desert creatures such as serpentine lizards, Scorpion and draconic scalies of fire and ash to their use. Able to blend in and traverse the known ways of the sands to out maneuver and flank their foes foolish enough to come after them (and now I also want to watch Lawrence of Arabia). An alpine people would also not be a far stretch. After all we have seen plenty of Jungle Exodite concepts. So what about their Highlands dwelling kin? Eldar who live off the rock and timber of a giant temperate and sub arctic worlds. Strong of limb and able to survive the cold and wild temperaments of their chosen homes. Going into battle atop heavy plated and massive dino/prehistoric mammal like hybrids, battering their foes aside by ferocity and strength much like our own history’s hardy people of the mountains regions. Truly when creating an Exodite army, any hardy and primal like folk of our own world can serve as an excellent source for theme and character.

-And that leads us to story. Yet another thing that can have infinite possibilities based off your own imagination. Are your Exodites of the first migrations away from their Stellar Empire? The ancient and proud ones who fled the fall of their doomed race and have since held onto life and world for thousands upon thousands of years? Are you a young and newly aspiring tribe of Exodite travelers, having only just now in recent years and light of galactic events decided it best to leave the constraining confines of a Craftword and forge a new and hard destiny for yourself? Are you a sanctuary to Outcasts and those who have been forced or chosen to leave their homes in the Craftworld or even the Dark City. Do you dream of rising once again to dominance, or have you accepted the humble life of survivors and exiles. Are your Exodites proud warrior like people, given over to tribal customs of battle, honor and glory in combat? Or have you attempted to become a peaceful and conservative folk, only drawing a blade when pressed by outside forces. Do you count many of the ancient seers among your ranks, or do the physically strongest and most warlike lead you? Have you shunned all forms of technology or do you harbor much of your ancient relics and tech for use to give you an edge over your environment and enemies? Again, the sky is literally the limit with the number of ways you can forge your own unique brand of Exodites. That is, at the end of the day the fun of non-official, but canonical armies. #6 CORSAIRS Everyone’s thinking it I’m just say’n it. Pirates! Ah yes, corsairs. Eldar Corsairs no less. A throw back to the original concept of these ancient Space Elves from the Rogue Trader era, where the Eldar, much like Orks, and even Chaos were cast in a more “Raider, Pirate, Freebooter” light than as giant interstellar empires of their own. And if I may be frank, my favorite style of all Eldar. Corsairs are in a league of their own when it comes to lore and the table top. If Craftworld Eldar are the Boomer parents, and the Dark Eldar are the teen goth phase kids, while the Exodites are the redneck uncle you visit during summer vacation, then the corsairs are that cool older sibling who always seems to have a few rings in his ear, rocks out to old style metal music and owns some sort of sup’d up car you love riding in. Over the years the Corsairs have had many attempts at army lists and most have fallen by the way side with each passing edition. So what is a pirate to do? Break out your Space Rum and lets find out. 

-Find your inner Outcast. This is the best place to start. Of all the Eldar sub factions, Corsairs are considered the Outcast. Too liberal minded and self serving for the Craftworlds, not into back stabbing, court intrigue and BDSM which counts the Dark Eldar out, and still too fucking full of themselves to go and play salt of the earth farmer with the Exodites. In all things the Corsair is the embodiment of the classic pirate trope. Those who live outside law and country. Content to ply the stars and do as they wish, when they wish, and save their own skin above all else. This type of “Sandbox” mindset can be used to create an eldar force with limitless background, style and character possibilities.

-What sort of pirate be ye? That’s your next question. Being Self sufficient and serving, Corsairs fit just about any niche you can think of when it comes to reaver like style. This also means they can be found just about anywhere, with just about anyone. Are your Corsairs a club for eldar only? Or have they allied to other even more unscrupulous characters? Corsairs can be found raiding alongside the likes of Rogue Traders, other alien species, and even among chaos warbands and Ork freebootas! And the reasons are just as varied. Are your pirates proud Corsair Princes/Princess’, plying the stars on an ambitious mission of their own? Are they fallen from grace renegades who have or will fall in with any dirty crowd? Are they the ruler of a pirate kingdom all their own, or do they sail the stars in a single infamous vessel like pirate stories of old, ravaging and stealing as they desire? Are they survivors of a larger group of CW Eldar, hiding amongst Exodites and teaching them the old ways of your people while trying to accumulate enough power and followers to rebuild what was lost? The options are almost limitless when forging a narrative for your Corsair warband.

-What is your goal? In the end, many a Corsair is an individualistic character. Shunning the Narrow dogmatic path of the Craftworlds, and refusing to become a corrupted sadist like the Drukari, they live a life of self fulfillment and ambition. So what motivates your band of pirates? Do they seek a sporting challenge as arrogant reavers of the stars? Are they after the ancient glory of their Race’s past when they ruled over the galaxy? Maybe perhaps they are altruistic, and ally themselves with whoever they foresee being a benefit to the galactic order of things. Fame and fortune? Women and wine? A warrior code dedicated to Khaine, or another esoteric group of reavers worshiping the many faded or forgotten gods of the past? Nefarious allegiance to chaos, or maybe a darker order of things. Maybe perhaps just indulging your own hedonistic desires without care to share them with others. Again, a corsair can have many a goal, which makes for all sorts of unique concepts regarding your army.

-Models models models. Ah yes, models, and what to use for your physical army on the table? Fortunately we live in a time where not only is there quite an expansive range of Eldar style models, both official and third party, but there are other factions with models that can be used to further augment your Corsair warband. The options are many. Maybe you use a combination of CW and Dark eldar models to achieve a rough reaver/noble look.  You can also dip into the Human side of models, utilizing Necromunda and RT faction models to give your eldar a much more grounded and space faring/gang like look. Even fantasy Elven ranges can be used to boost a more primal look to your Eldar, or perhaps Out of the way factions like Mechanicus and Warcry warbands can be augmented with Eldar models to produce some very unique Tech mash ups or tribal like appearances. Not to mention older far more grim looking GW models from Ebay can be used to add a spice of old to your model ranges. However you choose to do it, make sure your models are cut apart from straight up CW or Dark Eldar style figures. After all, your above that kind of crap. 

-Now we come to the final question, how do we play this army? As I mentioned before, there are older Corsair lists under official publishing one can use, as well as no doubt a bevy of fan made content. Like the Exodites, the Corsairs can easily be used as a counts as force, with even more options as you can pull from a number of different books in order to create homebrew allies and piratical alliances with your army. Once you have down how to create a list, its time to ask, how will yours be a unique pirate band? The cornerstone of any crew of pirates is Speed. After all, no need to hang around and risk your own neck am I right? This luckily is the Eldar’s forte, and can be done in numerous ways without too much overlap. On one hand, taking advantage of Eldar Air power is an awesome idea for Corsairs. Not only have they used in pass incarnations many of the powerful aircraft of the Eldar race, including the feared Void Dragon, other smaller editions have been made of time such as the handy Wasp, and fast moving Jump pack corsairs. Building off this concept, corsairs can utilise the various armies of the Eldar to kick into high gear. Between the DE and CW books, there is a wealth of fast moving raider vessels, teleporting and deep striking units, as well as high initiative and deadly close combat infantry. Depending on your list and homebrew rules, you may even have options to add other races in for flavor, such as Ork Meatshields…..I mean Ork allies that are very useful and cared about. Human RTs that can use various codex designs to function as an extra bulwark of strength and toughness and even Chaos elements if your feeling like you need the warp on your side. Maybe your corsairs favor Jetbike and light attack craft tactics and are made up almost completely of such units, along with jump infantry to help support your already fearsome maneuverability. There’s even ways to create an Eldar Corsair force that deploys almost exclusively from Deepstrike, entering the table at any point, ready to strike the enemy’s weak spot or run circles around their more cumbersome units. Always remember the enemy can;t hit back if they never see you coming, or are too slow to catch you!

It can be said, if the Exodites are a Modeling enthusiast’s dream, then the Corsairs are Narrative army creator’s playground. Enjoy Pillaging the stars fellow pirates! I can only hope this lengthy entry has given some of you new perspective or even just revivied old ideas on how to create and Eldar army of unique or simply enjoyable design. Sometimes I do feel as if Eldar are bottlenecked into repetative lists and story styles that leave little to customize, and rarely seem to fire the imagination. So really, these Pointy Eared ones arn’t just simple ELVES IN SPACE. There is little limit to what one can make of so many different aspects of this once great and powerful race.

As Always, Happy Hobbying!

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #eldar #xenos #exodites #corsairs #lore #insperation #hobby #miniatures #gaming #aliens #pirates #art

[margoshansons]

Here’s The News: q.b.

Quentin Beck x Summers!Reader// Yours Truly, 2095: 01. 02. 03. 04.

Summary— bright, beautiful, and broken

Warnings: swearing, lying, Manipulation

Notes: I want to reiterate that this is not meant to be an action-focused plot. I wrote this because I wanted to explore a relationship, not change FFH. I wrote this because I wanted to combine my favorite album with one of my favorite villains and I hate that I possibly have to use this as a disclaimer.

_________________________

She woke up surrounded by warmth, the sensation of Quentin’s finger brushing up and down her bare arm sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. She flipped over to face him, eyes locking onto each other as smiles crossed their faces.

It really was the perfect way to say goodbye.

“I have a meeting with Fury and Hill this morning” He whispered, still dragging his finger up and down her skin.

Y/N furrowed her brows. “There was no meeting on the agenda that I remember” She murmured.

Quentin’s expression shifted, “It was an emergency, something about an unusual spike near London, it’s probably nothing.”

Her hairs stood on the back of her neck again, empathetic perception clueing her into something that wasn’t quite right. “Why didn’t they tell me?”

A playful look crossed Quentin’s face, “I may have told them you had left for the airport already.”

Her chest burst in laughter, “And why would you do that?”

“Maybe it’s because I want you all to myself” Quentin’s expression was teasing, but his tone was something darker. Something she had never seen in him before. Something vicious.

It scared her.

“Mr. Beck!” She continued to tease, a smirk crossing her face as she pushed her fear away. The pair giggled, sharing a soft moment in a week filled with pain. She liked this. Waking up next to him, teasing each other like they were a couple. It quelled the butterflies that awoke whenever he was around, and he wasn’t bad to look at either.

“I have to go” he spoke, refusing to move.

Y/N pulled the sheets closer to her, “You should’ve woke me up earlier, I could’ve made you breakfast.”

Quentin chuckled, a rare toothy smile arriving on his face, “I thought that was my job as host.”

She shrugged, “It’s 2023, I thought we could shake things up a bit.” A thin smile passed her lips, “Besides if you had woken me up earlier you could’ve had some of my famous chocolate chip waffles.”

Quentin brushed her hair out of her face, the touch of his hand against her skin sending an unfamiliar feeling through her body. “You looked cute while you slept” He explained, “Besides, we have plenty of time to try new breakfast foods when we get back to New York.”

Y/N stayed silent, not wanting to tell Quentin about the real reason she was going back. Not wanting to tell him that this was as far as she wanted to go. That she didn’t do feelings. That there wouldn’t be plenty of time.

His lips gently pressed against her forehead, his warmth leaving the bed, creating a cold spot as he left to go get changed.

She missed him.

She pulled up her phone, double-checking to make sure Fury had actually called the meeting to quell her senses.

Quentin appeared above the bed once again, pressing another kiss into her hair before whispering a soft “goodbye”.

The door shut and Y/N stretched, the queen bed allowing her to sink further. All she wanted was to cuddle into the covers once more, sleep off what had happened last night. But her sixth sense was screaming, telling her to investigate every inch of this room. To turn every drawer and piece of furniture over until she found what she was looking for.

Desperate to find some relief from the bugging sense, she slid out of bed, the cold air making her shiver as she moved over to the dresser first.

Nothing.

She threw one of his shirts on for kicks before returning to her search, the comforting material shifting as she walked.

With every step, she proceeded with the standard SHIELD protocol search. Her hands ran themselves over every speck of dust, every inch of wood, every nook and cranny.

It looked normal.

Travel-sized toiletries, luggage bags, everything was reminiscent of someone who had made a fiscal trip to Europe.

“Or perhaps an interdimensional one” she murmured to herself, standing up from the floor to search the only place she had left untouched.

His desk.

Y/N swallowed the rising fear, cracking open the small drawer, revealing a series of scattered objects. But she knew better.

She ran her spindly fingers across each object until she found what she was looking for. The pencil that refused to budge. She pulled the board out of the drawer, revealing the false bottom underneath.

Papers littered the area, and as she flipped through them all she found files on all of them. Hill, Fury, Peter. Y/N scrambled, anxiety reaching ungodly amounts as she flipped to find her own name in his meticulous filing system.

It wasn’t there.

He didn’t have anything on her except what she had told him. She let out a deep breath, relieved at the revelation.

Taking her time to place each file back the way she found it, her arm bumped up against a small object in the corner of the false drawer.

It was small enough to be tossed aside, a tiny device that anyone else would’ve cast aside at the first glance.

But she was a SHIELD agent. She had worked along Tony Stark post-Accords.

No piece of tech was unimportant.

Carefully wrapping her hands in the towels in Quentin’s bathroom she gingerly placed the device on the desk, examining it for any sign of malicious intent. Instead, she was greeted with a small projection.

Y/N’s body crushed under the weight of the revelation. Everything finally made sense.

Because as she looked at the figure in the projection she discovered why her extrasensory perception spiked whenever she was around him.

Her chest constricted, the dagger of pain digging further and further until it spread through her veins, into her blood vessels, lighting up every area of her body as the stinging blade of betrayal lingered. 

She wanted to take last night back.

She wanted to take everything back.

Her sweet words, her vulnerability. She wanted to traverse back and time and stay in New York. She wanted to quit SHIELD like she should’ve done before the decimation. 

Had everything been a lie? Had last night been a lie? 

A single tear slid down her cheek at the horrible thought, but as she watched the repeated video of the figure in front of her, she couldn’t erase the terrible shame washing over her.

Because the figure before her was Quentin.

***

The atmosphere was wrong. 

When he had left Y/N that morning she had been nothing but smiles, now she was staring at her hands.

“What’s wrong honey?” He tried out the pet name, something unusual erupting in his stomach as he caught the slightest smile from her.

“I just realized” Y/N replied, meeting his eyes, “I don’t really know that much about you, I mean other than the usual.”

Quentin had been preparing for this moment. For the moment she would ask about the other Earth. About his life.

She couldn’t find out about London. It wasn’t time yet.

Just one more day of lying and then he could tell her everything. Once Peter was taken care of, everything would be his.

“In all fairness, you don’t talk much about yourself either,” Quentin countered, taking in the sight of her in his clothes. His eyes raked up and down her body, recalling every inch of it.

The memory sent a pleasurable chill down his spine, and his eyes followed her bare legs as they paced the room, ending up on the opposite side of the bed.

Her face was expressionless, jaw set.

The same face that had been moaning his name last night. The same face that had sent him shy smiles and giggled like a teenager whenever he was around. The same face that he wanted to worship every night and day until his death.

“You’re right” Y/N finally conceded, “So how about we play a little game of twenty questions?”

He had no reason to question the suggestion. It was an innocent ask. Simply trying to get to know each other better.

Except he knew everything he needed to about her.

She cared about the little man, her empathy put her positions of power, she was related to a leader of a fabled group, her brother had died, and she was exceedingly bright.

Bright, beautiful, and broken.

Exactly like him.

“I don’t think so honey,” He answered, gulping down his nerves. He needed to gain some control back. “I have to meet Fury in Germany in a few hours, If I don’t leave soon I won’t catch my plane.”

Y/N nodded, a solemn expression shadowing her face.

Quentin’s stomach did a victory leap.

He stuffed what he could in his suitcase, knowing that all he needed was his MoCap suit. But he needed to look busy. He needed to keep up the ruse for a little while longer.

Even though a shot of pain pierced through his chest at the sight of her pouting face. Even though he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with her, cuddling as his plan died in the ashes, forgotten by everyone except Peter Parker.

He shook his head in disbelief.

She was a dangerous woman to make him want to give it all up.

“I should be going with you” Y/N chimed in.

Well, he certainly couldn’t have that.

“No” Quentin commanded, softening his voice as he approached the woman, “You’re needed back in New York soon. If I need your help I’ll let you know, ‘kay?”

His finger brushed against her chin, the soft skin sending soothing waves through his veins as he tipped her jaw upward.

Y/N’s head nodded slightly, eyes falling. He brought his lips to her in a chaste kiss, knowing that if he left now, it would be so much sweeter coming back.

___________________________

This is a bit of a lame penultimate chapter, but this was always more about the relationship than the plot. I’m really not a fan of changing canon unless something strikes me.

TAG LIST: @thefuriousquake @rizamendoza808 @osric-the-l3m0n-l0v3-demon

#quentin beck imagine #quentin beck #quentin beck x reader #quentin beck x summers!reader #summers!reader #mysterio x reader #mysterio imagine #mysterio imagines #quentin beck imagines #quentin beck fic #mysterio fic #quentin beck fanfic #mysterio fanfic #spiderman ffh #spiderman ffh imagine #spiderman ffh fic

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

How would Canada, Prussia, and Romano handle every country but theirs dying? And the micronations. Asking since I'm writing a fanfic, and it's set in the future with time shenanigans. [And yes, america dies, italy, Russia, Germany, everyone but those three and the micronations since they're so small]

Hello, lovely!

This ask took me a bit to warm up to; Hetalia is my happy-go-lucky escapist fandom, but the more I thought about this, the more my own curiosity was piqued.

I took the liberty of assuming this was sort of a “sudden death” scenario, and that the lads find out the Others are missing at relatively the same times. I also tried to be optimistic, and I apologize if some of it is unrealistic.

Hope this is sufficient, and perhaps inspires you in your future writing ventures!

*

Lovi and Gil knew immediately that their brothers were gone. 

Lovino felt the hegemony fall to his shoulders as he was watching the sunrise, sitting on a dock with his feet under the water. He was immediate rage, cursing any name he could think of for the responsibilities now falling to him, for daring to take away someone so young. 

Gilbert, on the other hand, knew as he was brushing his teeth, bright pink bubbles swirling down the drain as he simply collapsed into himself, crumbling to the floor. “I was supposed to go first. Not you. Never you.”

Matthew was the first one to reorganize, take charge of the situation. With all major world powers gone, Canada was now the leader of what remained of the Free World, and he took his duty very seriously. Having been in Berlin already for a meeting, he hunted down the remainder of Germany, dragging the eerily quiet Gil along with him to find any others.

Mattie played the strong one, keeping a stiff upper lip throughout the first few weeks of the crisis. It’s not until he goes back to his house and sees one of America’s stray Converse and Mexico’s favourite hoodie that he completely breaks down.

The humans are in chaos, the global economy having crashed, and a large majority of them now gone. There is panic of an epidemic, of a possible apocalypse, with looting and strong alliances forming between any survivors.

It has been three weeks.

Gil remains stiff and silent, though he does consent to food, sleep, and bathing. Lovino hovers near him in case the idiot tries to do something foolhardy when he finally overcomes the shock.

Italy, what is left of Italy, ties with what remains of Germany for second in strength in this new world. Lovino keeps a stern face, greets each minute of regrowth with a solemnity that Feli and Toni would have teased him endlessly for. When Marcello bursts through the meeting doors one evening with news about refugees, he nearly loses his composure; Seborga looks more like Veneziano than Romano ever cared to admit.

The panic has mostly settled, and an eerie sense of calm and faux normalcy hangs in the air for humanity. There is no real normalcy- Most continue trying to determine if their loved ones are still alive, many don’t return to work, some carry on as if they had no interruptions.

After months of debate, Rome is once more declared the centre of the world, and Lovino and Marcello move permanently into their family home. Many of the micronations soon join them, adopting Ladonia’s preferred communication strategy of staying in touch digitally.

Lovino takes on his new responsibilities easily. He’s lost half his population before, led empires before, been at the centre of the universe before. So long as he keeps himself busy, he can ignore the missing sarcasm, ignore the missing “Fuck!” tossed around every five minutes. The big house is almost filled to capacity; it still feels too empty.

It has been two years, and Humanity is working together to connect everyone who remains to a proper global network. In times of distress, everyone comes together. 

Most migrate nearer to the micronations, seek out shelter in one of the three main remaining nations. But there are some who refuse to leave their homes, and efforts are made to ensure everyone has access to medicine, electricity, and clean water. 

There is more progress now, with no real economy to stop it.

Gilbert remains quiet, though he observes everything. He signs whatever forms need his attention, acknowledges any issues to be addressed. But he can’t help thinking that it should be Freidrich or Ludwig here, that they should both be here.

He misses his inside jokes with England, with Scotland. He misses raising hell with France and Spain and Denmark. He misses shit-talking with Japan, Belgium’s bounding energy, Seychelle’s fierce optimism. All gone, with the survivors trying to build a new world order out of the ashes.

Ten years, and Mattie officially moves in with Lovino. Castel Sant’Angelo has once more been renovated- now into a central home, with more than enough space for every representative to keep their own room. Mattie just shrugs when Lovi raises a brow at his luggage. “It was too quiet, and someone has to keep you in line.”

It has been twenty years; Gil still has yet to speak.

Several attempts have been made to create some form of economy. Each was shot down.

Humanity, now interconnected more than ever, has resumed interest in teleportation and space travel.

Twenty-five years, and everyone now understands at least three languages.

Thirty years, and Mattie sometimes swears he can see Ukraine keeping watch over the garden.

Thirty-five years, and Lovino and Marcello are thick as thieves. Seborga is finally as deadly a shot as Romano, and Lovi has started to embrace his more childish ways at his brother’s encouragement.

Forty years, and two of the Big Three are arguing over which Grecian deity most closely fits them. Lovino insists there is no way he could be Zeus, just as there’s no way in hell Mattie could ever qualify as Poseidon. The debate could have raged for hours, but a dark scowl from the unanimously voted Hades left them both feeling too sheepish to continue.

On the forty-fifth anniversary, Lovino snuck off to the north, taking a boat to explore what still remained of Venezia.

Fifty years later, and the first person to Mars smiled for the camera. In a dialect birthed after the Great Disappearance, she sent love to her family, and made a small speech about progress and adventure and all the hopes for the future.

Millions of miles away, from a small kitchen in the Black Forest, a grainy television delivers the message to a soul older than comprehension. The words sank in, the phantom of a firm hand resting on his shoulder. “We will continue to rebuild, and we will grow stronger.”

For the first time in decades, Prussia smiled.

Fifty-seven years, and no one questioned why Matthew is completely smashed during the first two weeks of July.

Sixty-three years, and Mattie was trying to dig Prussia, Sealand, Wy, and Hong Kong out of a mud pit, cursing up a storm as the four continue to throw more earth at their rescuer’s head.

After eighty-six years, Gil has stopped wearing black. He came to breakfast with a vintage white t-shirt that read “Spread Pages, Not Legs (the ace agenda)” across the front, and Mattie nearly choked on his orange juice before he finished reading.

One century later, and no humans are left alive that can remember the Great Disappearance, the only recounts in history books. The world has rebuilt, and the people have learned to move on.

The micronations have grown into their power, now hosting monthly meetings to discuss policy, agenda, progress, shipping- All the things that society needs to function.

Missing from today’s meeting are the three eldest nations, who had left early in the morning without a word. No one is sure where to find them, where they could be. They’re not gone though, so there is relief.

It is 5 am local time. The sun will be rising soon.

Matthew murmurs a chant, golden glow slipping past his lips and circling around the small trio. Lovino harmonizes with his own sounds, some deep, dark, and inexplicably ancient rasping coating each syllable, cold air tying itself to the dancing lights. Gilbert watches on for a moment, holding in his hand a pile of letters and Alisdair’s old lighter, waiting. The moment comes, and he sets the papers ablaze.

The winds of Lovi’s spellwork and the control in Mattie’s ensures not a speck of ash will hit the ground, and all three watch as their words fly up, disappearing in seemingly midair.

They wait until they are satisfied, then begin the hike back to their car, parked on the old A303, Mattie nearly tripping as Gil rushes past him, desperately trying to beat Lovi in their impromptu race. The Canadian snickers quietly as both of them fall in the process, underestimating the steepness of the hill. Taking the initiative, he rushes past them, outright cackling at the outraged squawks of protest behind him.

None of them see the hazy figure sitting atop the bluestone, smiling softly before fading away.

The world is finally at peace.

*

And one addition, in case anyone was curious:

#asks #writing #so much writing #apocalypse #alternate universe #post apocalyptic #post apocalypse #headcanona #timeline #aph prussia #aph romano #aph canada #i will headcanon gilbert beilschmidt as asexual until i am dead #featuring ghost England #Stonehenge #venice #rome #black forest #writeblr #yay depression #i am tired #naptime #it is 630 am ace that isnt a nap #prussia #romano #canada #lovino vargas #matthew williams #gilbert beilschmidt

[siremasterlawrence]

The Super Soldier Sereum Project # 1.

Sam Mikuluk professional Olympic Athlete was my first choice, and he will be the very first one to be the recipient of my one take on the super soldier program. I had it all set up in my lap with the formula I would inject, upon out fortunate meeting I will inject him, and he will literally be open an receptive to all I say. It well works like this, the machine straps him in as a needle in the chair injects, and it sticks him in the neck.

The fluid injected into him quickly spread all over his body, it alters his state of mind to be compliant and his body to be easily molded to my specifications. I say behind my computer in a deep focus as I analyze his data, I upload all of it to my laptop as it expanded, and I look on exploring every nook an cranie of his brain. In what was no time press another button as I slip in my drive. I the drive activates as the lap top glows all shades of colors, and then starts to whirl.

The chair Sam was strapped to glows as pain from the needle increases, it digs deeper as a ray goes to work rewiring his brain, and finally my program uploads as it erases his mind to put in mine. The computer starts to spin like crazy as my plan goes into action, Sam world was being altered to my reality, and the people in his life were no longer even aware he exists at all. As the machine stops heals his wound in the back of his head, the chair unstraps him so he can stand up, and he drops to his knees.

“Master Lawrence, What was that lode I had before this? I mean I know I am still a Olympic level gymnast and all, but I am your slave nowmost importantly.” He says to me as he kneels at my feet, he was all mine no hidden agenda, and actual good slave to me. I command him to stand as we kiss slowly, he admits he never felt this good in his life, and he loves being my Slave. He was all to happy to serve me in all my epic glory, and he kneels before me as he kisses my hand.

“Now, we need to begin your last and final process. Here is your costume Sam, and your knew villain name is Phoenix.” I say as he smiles as he gets dressed in front of me an a bank looks so good, I send him to rob the big State Bank of New York. He leaves my side after a quick kiss, immediately he grabs on to a pole, and spins propelling his body to the top of the building. He pulls up the window drops into the building, he backflips through all of the high tech rays.

He opens the vaults with ease as he attaches another device to it, an he sneaks in grabbing all of the money as it unlocks and he jumps back out. He draws a anagram of the Pheonix rising from the ashes, he laughs crazily likea fox as he drops the spray can, and he flips onto the main platform jumping out of the big window. He holds onto the pole as he spins out to the ground, he lands outside as he hits the ground, and he make me me smirk as I watch safe from my home.

“You did an excellent job my boi Slave Sam Malikuk.” I tell him as he smiles greatly In utter excitement.

The end.

#Super Soldier Serum.

[thepoetofabyss]

The birth of a purgatory. Chapter 1: The journey of a crippled soul. Was it a mere spark of light? A vivid dream of a sacred beam into the darkness as it spread? The sun was burning fiercely over the cracked ceiling as I noticed the curtains wet! Absurd was reality or not, I got the feeling of being controlled by somewhat of a strong spirit. As a well sought bait. Camouflage or sorcery, Which ever suits your fancy. The ambiance was astonishing, And displayed the aura of a message; A threat. "Was it truly a necessity for me to go astray, demented with enigma of might to see where it ends?" As I whispered softly to myself again and again- "Maybe this is the end". "In my beloved rusty old den" With sheer grin on my face, Like never before, as it never had been. Was it fate that opened infinite courtyards; ghastly, in surprise? A figure appeared from absolute nothingness. A ghoul like shape appeared with a large scroll in hand, trivially visible. But curiously immense was the size. Was all of it happening for real? Right in front of my bare eyes? As the stubborn reflex within my guts tactfully held a tight grasp of the scenario that had me haunted. It kept bothering me, whether I lose to my insecurities. My fears, the saddening disabilities. Writhing, fiercely as I felt the chivalry within me left in shreds. Yes, by the time I was gravely afraid. Whether it is time for me to carve my own gravestone, and hire a fellow undertaker to put me into eternal rest. Is the sands of time slipping? Am I dead? Trembling in awe, I flipped another thought. Was it my weakened intuition?Intentionally diving into the depths, inside the iron-weilded core of the hollow in my crippled bed? Or was it just another day, vulnerable, under my shed? For the moment you might offer or ask, whether it is about time for me to reveal that illusive matter, the trance. Apparently we had never learned it in ease to bear a scar from a scratch, translating life from a hollow dent. As I realized that it was only for the one to decide why darkness led me to light that never bend. This was the dawn of a new era. The age where none will ever dare practice inception in their self initiated horrors or slightest to apprehend. Behold. Chas to be witnessed. The life of a spiritual kraken, addressed. Surely, I haven't seen an end, yet. An end of a bargain, Rogue was the state, in an ambiguity of the possibilities it had me sent. I fell. And I fell deeper. In a superficial speed of light and further of any example which I could ever display in a logical, rational mind.. And I crashed; into the burning red sands of a land which I always sensed above in the earthly lands. In the beginning of my journey nothing significantly made sense to me, but a class of few- Uncountable thousands of those offspring born as men, who sinned blindly in spellbound manifestations. Screeching louder than their ken. Alongside, wretched diva's who lured innocents in their blackened caves of lust and bondage. Molested, abused and raped their own children, constantly off their courses, and heartlessly slain them. The terror was dense. Aborted children howl in agony, in a baffled unity of destruction unleashed everywhere. An enormous sore tone billions; the cacophony was immense.. No end of a timeless torture; the crooked hands lent. As they are were in a literal sense no more, neither am I in their sorted folklores, be it a messy gore as flesh bitten off and tore. I had no possible description of what might sound ever sound pleasant. In the early steps of my journey, I stepped into the dreams of those beloved, for whom silent prayed. Casting myself to all those, Who deserved, the cowards, the great. The key was this; none of my emotions had importance to those for whom I did, as the least was understood as a universe I had been thrown to I meant. In pleasure, in pain, in every drop running through my narrowed veins, I took a leap of faith as I hopped into whatever it had me led. This wasn't the first time I felt my soul numb and dead. I got crushed, scorched and battered, hanging me in flesh the occult gathered. Raped by variant monstrous creatures in their barracks, the torture, inside the boundaries of an endless barricade. Reincarnated in every fatality as I constantly bled. Tearing off my guts, playing with my genitals and throwing pieces of my limbs to the hellhounds they fed. So, it was true I realized ,that after reckless years spent in a lifetime, the vast pile of memories within we're caved, left in stock pile over by those I had met. And those I threw as pebbles by the shores, the special ones, as desperately I regret. Those I loved, and the ones I tried my earnest best, to hate. They were all present by my side, each dropping through the darkened tunnel for a head on crash over a volcanic plate. For flesh and bones are as good as void matters, without a divine gift, the will of a renegade. But ridicule me for this. Till this very day, none had ever escaped. Now this I have decided, in my selfish mind resided, to be myself once and for all, whatever the path ahead. For I have time till I'm awake, till I observe in solidarity, balancing a power of an attack on each one of my final breath, as I resurrect. This was the set agenda. To rise from the ashes. Like a phoenix lit with stardust. A perfect time to raid. Break my zeal every time and I'm fearless. I'm capable of summoning an eclipse over any dimension you choose to seek refuge, but unfortunately every dire attempts mislead. I kept failing miserably in the hollow, the path shortened to staked gallows. Yet my belief was thorough, as I passed by my wickedest nightmares dissolving in the shock waves expanding possibilities in split second-light years, as it bred. The breeding kept on; some screamed their hearts out and some repented, and mourned. Silenced were voices, eradicated temper, reborn. Their was nothing left to live for after an eternal continuity of massacre, as bodies lie in counts of billions, severed and thorned. Every moment hereafter, the cacophony, the maddened laughter. The sufferings where more than one could imagine in endless life times and here I was unaware that truest agony had merely just begun. The rotten lord of underworld awaits. Tyrant entertainment, disgusting his attainments. Howling praises, dancing wild his attendants circling by the sides of his throne. "Come forth! Embrace your misery! For once in a while, celebrate my wrath upon you as a gift I bestow upon you, alone!" As the tortured souls are tied like puppets in his dreadlocks, he wore a tainted dark fog of a gown, with a smile similar to the lips of once I came by an unhappy dead clown. Landing on the playground with a dynamic impact, as the tribe of his minions formed a tact, the most cringe-worthy laugh put a mute shock as he shook the entire hell and all he looked upon. He stared at those he fancied, those who he wanted to burn, And all the pyre, the screaming Had eventually bored him in turn. So in shift of the pulse. A telepathy he commanded a cannibalistic holocaust. The worst of evil and insanity. Beyond human recognition but similar to vices when crocodiles prey on their own born. What a scene I had to adorn. And was this the reason why I was destined to be here? To indulge into the dance of Satan, the hades in despair? I still remember the reasons why I chose to give in to this lair. For this was God's will. For me to snatch whatever was rightful from this sarcastic heir. Enough said, Enough blamed. It is time. To decide. Who's prey and who's game. Time to rip his heart out with powers he had never been able to obtain. Neither had he been fit to keep whatever he had contained. It was about time to take over the empire he acquired through treachery. Through madness, pride and the most horrible of adulteries. And with time, I created the alliance with spirits of all sort despite the pain we endure. Yet we stay put, keep aside of what's impure. On the farthest valleys of the sixth circle. Where legacy of the mystical pond was clear and visible. With jinxed tails of satires attached to each end for protection, kept the verses to his destruction at the depths of the centerfold. But had not we ever sought. Using of wit he had also fought. Not just with fragile men, but the supremacy, the divinity of God. And accomplished reasoning to his way into sanctuary. Have we given it a thought? The master of disguise, the evil of all evil, the endless outrage we despise. So tact is not what conquers the magical ornamented pond, it was above human reach and beyond. The trickster had always took the liberty to make us go through absurdity for unaccountable loops. Inertia is not a luxury as we long. So first, We need to rise against the troops! Yes, the dog-headed militants of anubis and carnivore sluts in the chambers of babylon. But here in hellfire. A different emotive shall prevail and with this manifestation we work on. If love and affection had changed dogs, men and women before for better. Even if we fail to this, we will try repeatedly, as there is no one left with earthly bodies to recover. I summon those of you together. Who had loving earthly pets, and those of you who were vets. Healers, whisperers and soothsayers are invited as well! This is war. A story God foretells. There is nothing we have to lose rather than what we decided to keep close. So let the game of God begin! Perish evil with empathy, crawling towards defeat it will undoubtedly bow down to good as gliding out of chaos is our win! Chapter 2: Change of power. The fallen has risen at it's peak. With no mercy it had seek. No land left for those willed weak. Those standing as a sacred wall against the forsaken. The time paused dramatically as the brethren, the women and guided children, awaken. Scorching his lands as awaits the eternal defeat. The terror of silent prayers spread quick. Henchmen, warlords and even hellhounds conjoined, significantly a brick. Contributing to every inch of the wall, standing tall against territories which were infected with his reign of blasphemy towards all. Abnormally silent he grew, with no muse of that terrifying shrewd. Was it a sign of a patiently organized cacophony or a glimpse of the fallen's retreat? The agony may have paused. As the nemesis shows no applaud. Seemed generous of the fraud. To be awake and yet hide inside that darkened castle, without the concern of casting wrath over those he once tortured, impossible. Impossible,I realized; was for him to summon willfully hide behind and speak aloud. Suddenly, appeared a massive cocoon. With a heart-throbbing boom. A screeching noise; A familiar voice. Tearing off the pale outer skin. Tangled tentacles, a gruesome giant cyclops with steamed blood dripping off a disgusting grin. It was him. In his truest, most hideous and violent form. The holy chain in vain, into a clot. In a glimpse, slaying all out. A bloodbath; a hurricane in a plot. Without tyrant not leaving a chance for all the flesh suits to rot. Rattling bones as they reincarnate in the vice of this unholy storm! He laughed with rage in his eyes. The slightest mercy he denies. Boiled blood, desperate cries. He spoiled every soul into a slave and granted sanctuary for those who supported his rise. A new era begun. The age of madness, revised. Fear led courage to drainage. Heads turning into self-carnage. Eating termites from the garbage. Others pleasing each other in vice. The thrash of evil had reached a brave new awakening. As he rode his griffin overhead. Making it impossible for one to believe in existence, and indulge into the victory of the fallen. The sands turned to raging lava, Whatever stood above it, ravished and melt, a death leaving no ashes. Continued for ages. Celebrating... The rise! Chapter 3:- An invitation. I felt nothing at this point. No hope, in a motiveless mind. Lost my sanity, my sight was blind. I felt nothing; Nothing that I wished to rewind. A sinister had arrived, as greeted me with a smile. It was amazing to see such a scenario in a while. "How have you been?" he asked. "The lord had sent me here to you for a task" "You might not recognize me but it was me who guided you here behind the mask". My agony ended here, alas! He grabbed my hands as a portal had opened. I was unsure where will I be taken. But not a trivial thought had bothered me to question. And we vanished into a warp of light. Paralyzed. The very next moment, I was in a land which resembled a lot like the stories I've heard before of the paradise. Still numb to my cores; From endless agony, the gore. The sweet smell of grass and earth was awfully a bore. The mystical ocean, the beautiful woman dancing, singing by the shore. Nothing. Absolutely nothing had my interest into the enigmatic aura, the beautification around me was nothing more to me than a meaningless metaphor. "Are you a son of God?" "A special breed? A lord?" The maidens kept asking, As they giggled and it made me feel the least to give it a thought. All I could think of was the misery from which my guide had me brought. Not more or no less of what I have learn and the endless nightmares I had entangled myself and uncountable others that had rot. My guide whispered with a smile- "You have endured much more than I could bet with my dear lord" "For this is where you earn your glory, from the things you have been taught." "Behold, you have been appraised by the lord himself." "The never changing fate of the spear of destiny, was engraved into the depths of your heart long before your earthly ancestors stepped foot in existence; the brightest cores of mortal might was only and incredibly for you to enthrone." "A decree has been sent for you." "A message you have been aware of ever since" "The prodigal child" "The sacred birth from the core of the of the womb of underworld." .... And I fell. Fell into the voids of the trance. The power was unleashed. I fear nothing but the one who had created me. Out of the spirit of a dwarf star, consuming anything that comes across. I felt the necessity of nothingness, the simplest of a void, over frequencies and actions of any immaterial atom reacting towards my alpha. Anything was perishable. No matter the spark of the ignition lit inside to reproduce, recreate, or replicate. Invincible. Subtle. As my surroundings smashed, Systematically erased; trashed. Into the purgatory. Into the darkness embraced. Souls are spared. Darkness, cleared. Muse of terror fled. No rule of termite or giants, A different dimension appears. Do I really ask myself of my identity? If time itself had never mattered, should I care? No more of these question had left me amazed, anymore. I was the galaxy. As a whole. As one. - ThePoetOfAbyss

[i-w-p-chan]

Miss- err, Mr. and Mr. Croft, Part 5/Angel of Darkness, Part 3

Important Author Note: Unless it is specified who says which part, the dialogue typically alternates between Tsuna and Hayato.

WARNINGS: OOC, Language (there is a lot of cursing), Violence, Indiscriminate Killing (Tomb Raider Typical Killing- applies to humans, animals, and mythical creatures), Dialogue Heavy, Set In The Tomb Raider Games 'Verses, So May Not Make A Whole Lot Of Sense If You Don't Know TR (unless you, like me, don't mind that), Uses Dialogue From The Game, Collection of Snippets/Drabbles/Scenes Featuring Tsuna's And Hayato's Adventures In The TR Games, Beware Of Unexpected Mood Whiplashes, Ship Teasing, Slight BoyxBoy (why do I even warn about this anymore?), Platonic 5927 (To The EXTREEEEEEEME!), Snark, Badass Tsuna And Hayato, Badasses In Dresses, Perverted Swords, Cute Hammers, And As Always: Shameless Self-Indulgence/Ridiculousness.

Disclaimer: Don't own TR or KHR.  

.

The moment Tsuna sensed Hayato's flames, he knew that something surprised Hayato more than usual.

When he didn't sense the flames get back under control a few minutes later, he worried. It was unusual that Hayato's calm was shaken so much that his temper reverted back to how it was back when Hayato was a teen.

Tsuna kept the flames in his mind's eye as he tracked its progress out of the Louvre until it was pulled back under control right outside of the museum. Tsuna headed there.

The moment he arrived, he halted in his tracks; Hayato was on his back, unconscious, with what looked like a strange blue and white dagger next to him on the ground.

Tsuna took a second to blink in shock at the scene before he rushed over towards Hayato. Tsuna picked up the dagger and started to shake Hayato.

"Hey, Hayato. Hayato. Wake up, Hayato. Hayatooooo."

With a groan, Hayato shook his head and opened his eyes. He blearily looked up and, at the sight of Tsuna above him with a dagger, gaped, "You really are going to kill me."

Tsuna looked, contemplative, between Hayato and the dagger, and then smiled. Hayato shuddered.

"Hmmm." Tsuna played a bit with the dagger. "Maybe some other time?"

Hayato sagged in relief.

"Now, how about you fill me in on what happened after we parted?"

Hayato stiffened, "Ah. That."

"Yes, that."

.

"What do you mean he groped you?! I'm going to kill him!"

.

Bouchard found them after Hayato successfully calmed Tsuna down and managed to get the dagger from him.

"What are you doing here?"

"No time now. Quickly!"

Tsuna and Hayato shared a look. It was time to get to Werner's apartment to find clues on what happened, and lucky them, they have a guy they can commandeer for a ride.

.

As the three piled into a car, Hayato took the chance to ask some questions, "What were you doing at the Louvre?"

"Trawling police short wave. You were attracting a lot of attention in there. I figured you might need some help."

"Thanks." Well, color them surprised. But Hayato was still suspicious; Bouchard probably had his own agenda.

Bouchard put his hand on Hayato's leg, just above the knee, "Wouldn't you prefer somewhere safer than your friend's apartment?"

Hayato stared blankly at the hand, the urge to violently rip it off rising in his chest. Tsuna leaned over, grabbed the hand and deposited it back in Bouchard's lap, all while he had a sickeningly sweet smile on his lips, "I found some leads in the Louvre that may link to his death. I have to check his apartment."

"We're almost there. There's something you should know. The police bands were full of details of another Monstrum killing- in Prague."

Prague? Hayato looked at Tsuna, wasn't that guy, Mathias Vasiley, mentioned in Werner's notebook staying in Prague?

"Would it be a dealer named Mathias Vasiley by any chance?"

Bouchard looked at them, "Yes. You knew him?"

"No." Tsuna opened the door of the car, and got off, closely followed by Hayato.

"I'll… wait here."

.

"What a mess." Tsuna looked around the apartment.

"Let's spread out and look around."

Tsuna side-eyed Hayato, but nodded his acquiescence.

.

Tsuna and Hayato had finished their search and were standing in front of the wall that held the red symbols all over it when a man with a rifle entered and took aim at them.

.

Hayato leaped at the man, grabbed him and threw him off the railing to the stairs below. Tsuna ran after him, gun raised and trained on him, but the man was unmoving.

And his phone was ringing.

Tsuna proceeded to search the body for anything useful while Hayato who just joined him pulled out the dead man's phone and answered.

"Is she taken care of yet?" Came Bouchard's voice from the other end. "Hello? Is she dead yet? We have to get back to Prague."

"No, Bouchard, she isn't. But your little friend is. I'll take care of you later." Hayato ended the call and threw the phone away.

Tsuna raised a blue card, "It's time to go to Prague."

.

"Well, look. It’s Bouchard." Tsuna mouthed to Hayato, then took out his gun and used to it knock out Bouchard.

"Time for some Q&A."

.

"He's dead? What the heck?"

"More importantly, how?"

"Let's get out of here."

.

"We've got an Obscura engraving and the pass. Off to Strahov."

"You're so excited to storm the place."

"Well, why wouldn't I be?"

.

"This reminds me of that one time at the Russian base."

.

"Tsuna?"

Hayato stared worriedly at Tsuna who was stock-still in front of him. The two had just watched Eckhardt murder someone in front of their very own eyes. The smell of burning flesh wafted up to the ventilation shaft, where the two were hiding, and into their noses.

Tsuna turned to look at Hayato with orange eyes, "I don't know why, but it feels like that bastard is mocking us. I want to burn him to cinders."

"Well." Hayato paused momentarily, what should he say to that? "That's the spirit. Now, let's keep moving."

.

"I can't believe that babbling wacko gave us the slip!"

"'Babbling wacko'?"

"Hush."

.

"Not only crazy plants, but also crazy creatures! Just what the heck?!"

.

"What the heck is that thing swimming in the water?"

"I take back every bad thing I ever said about crocodiles."

.

"I never thought I could feel so murderous, Eckhardt is teaching me new things about myself."

"The guy just rubs you the wrong way, doesn't he?"

.

"It's locked?" Tsuna uselessly pushed at the door.

The guy from the Louvre walked in front of the transparent part of the door. Tsuna's features immediately blanked. Hayato sighed.

"You really have made a mess of things, haven't you?"

A self-satisfied smirk crept over Tsuna's face. Hayato sighed louder.

"Who for? The stalker who stole my painting?" Tsuna scoffed.

"What do you need with the painting?" Hayato interjected, if he let Tsuna lead the conversation, he'd just rile the guy up.

"Maybe I'll explain later, miss Croft, but for now I need to go and turn the power back on." The guy just wasn't endearing himself to Tsuna.

"Leaving me here." With a progressively more annoyed Tsuna? Scratch that about the guy not endearing himself to Tsuna, he wasn't endearing himself to Hayato.

"You've caused enough problems over the last two days." Yeah, just stroke Tsuna's ego over that some more, it won't help your case though.

"Safer for everyone if you stay in one place for a while."

Now that, Hayato couldn't fault. Except for the part where Hayato himself is stuck with an annoyed Tsuna.

"You'll be okay in there."

Yeah, Tsuna would be. But Hayato wouldn't be. He'd have to listen to Tsuna's whining. Tsuna had a lot of things to whine about, and as long as he and Hayato kept moving and working towards an objective, Tsuna didn't have time to whine. But now…

Tsuna snapped Hayato out of his horrified speculation by slapping the dagger he picked up outside of the Louvre against the door while keeping it in clear sight of the guy on the other side of the door.

"And this?"

"My Periapt Shard! You…"

Periapt Shard? They heard that name before. From that woman that was eaten by that strange creature (or plant, they didn't really know or want to know).

"Picked it up at the Louvre, yes. After you stole my painting." Hayato winced at that.

"All this can wait. I know where you'll be. Take a breather from damaging things why dontcha."

Hayato leaned his forehead against the wall; that may as well incite Tsuna to damage more things.

The guy saluted them and left.

Hayato groaned.

"'Take a breather from damaging things' huh?" Tsuna squared his shoulders, his flames springing forth to surround his body. "This measly chamber is nothing; I'll tear it down and chase after you. Easily."

Hayato knew it.

Then Tsuna did something unexpected, he dispersed his flames and mused with a smile on his face, "Maybe I should actually just stay here."

Hayato was shocked, what?

"Let him come to me."

Ah. Hayato relaxed, all was right in the world again.

.

The two laid in wait for the guy on the ceiling of the chamber, right above the door. They were rewarded when he entered and looked around but didn't look up.

Tsuna was the first one down, disarming him and training his gun on him. Hayato jumped down just in time to see a mutated human-like creature behind the guy. Tsuna's flames sprung forth, devouring the strange creature and reducing it to ashes. Tsuna's flames retreated but didn't go away, they merely draped themselves across Tsuna's shoulders and down his back.

"Thanks." The guy was blatantly staring at the flames. Hayato's eyes bore into him, he was more perceptive than any other person Tsuna and Hayato met (heck, he was more perceptive than gods Tsuna and Hayato faced off against).

Tsuna didn't respond, even though it was a perfect opportunity for him to say something snarky to the guy, he merely stared at the guy.

"Name's Kurtis." Kurtis (and what a relief it was to have a name for a face, Hayato got tired of referring to him as 'the guy' in his head) offered his hand for a handshake, while his eyes were still trained on Tsuna's flames.

Wow, so brave of him.

Tsuna still didn't respond so Hayato did instead, "Lara. And this is business."

Hayato grabbed Kurtis and pushed him towards the wall, searching him in a style similar to the one Kurtis used with him in the Louvre. So, okay, Hayato still held a tiny grudge over what happened in the Louvre.

Tsuna, the current unflappable bastard, still kept his gun trained on Kurtis.

"I owe you one." Seriously? Hayato wanted to punch him.

"You owe me a painting." Yes, a tiny grudge.

"Sorry. That went AWOL at the Louvre."

Didn't even have the decency to hold onto it, gah.

"What brings you here from Paris?" Hayato asked as he threw the metal disk with retractable blades away. The sound it made as it hit the ground felt satisfying.

"Eckhardt. We have business that only one of us will walk away from. You?"

Kurtis turned around to face Hayato. Hayato looked at Tsuna, then back at Kurtis, "Personal reasons."

Kurtis stared at him, and proceeded to spill to him and Tsuna what he knew about Eckhardt's plans. So, he really was willing to explain things.

"Eckhardt is the original Black Alchemist-" The retractable blades on the metal disk on the ground sprang forth, the disk in itself was surrounded by an orange glow as it began to spin. "-and now he's very close to finding the last painting."

The metal disk flew into the air and began to circulate around the people in the chamber.

When it came close to Tsuna, Tsuna's flames reached out and engulfed the disk, then they yanked.

Kurtis stumbled back in shock.

"You-!"

The flames retreated from around the disk to return to their position wrapped around Tsuna, they sparked in metaphorical satisfaction. The disk itself was still rotating in mid-air, except that this time, the orange light was different, instead of creating an aura around the disk it surrounded it like an extra layer, and the edges of the blade sparked with Tsuna's flames.

Well, Hayato observed the disk, that was new.

Kurtis stared at them in shock- wait. He actually was staring at them. His eyes flitted between the two of them, as opposed to how before he stared at their general area.

"You… you are not Lara Croft…"

He could see them!

Tsuna's eyes bore into Kurtis, who was staring at Hayato with a gaping mouth, "You're the one from the Louvre."

Hayato propped his chin on his fist, "You remember which of us you saw where now?"

"Yes. You, at the Louvre. Him, exiting the tunnel. Both of you before at the café, the club-"

Tsuna holstered his gun, effectively cutting off Kurtis. Tsuna narrowed his eyes at Kurtis, and put his hands on his hips.

Hayato huffed in amusement, "Looks like you won't be killed any time soon. I'm Hayato, this is Tsuna."

"You said," Tsuna interjected, "That Eckhardt is very close to finding the last painting. Does he know where it is?"

Kurtis stared for a moment before he answered, "Yes. It's hidden in the Lux Veritatis Vault beneath the Strahov. That painting must be destroyed, and to do that I need the Shard you picked up at the Louvre."

"There should be three Periapt Shards."

"Eckhardt has the last one. If all three Shards are united, they can destroy him permanently, so he keeps it safe."

"Oh?" Tsuna put his index finger to his lower lip, "I can't just… reduce him to nothing via fire?"

Kurtis subtly swallowed. Hayato waved a hand in front of Tsuna, "Ignore the pyro. Tell us about the Shards."

Kurtis refocused on Hayato, "They're ancient weapons of the Lux Veritatis. Two of them were entrusted to my father. Eckhardt murdered him to stop them passing into my hands. He failed."

"So Eckhardt went after your father. And you want revenge."

"Justice!"

"We should work together." Hayato looked meaningfully at Tsuna. Tsuna rolled his eyes and threw the Shard to Kurtis and let the disk drop into Kurtis, fire gone and blades retracted.

"You're… trusting me?"

"How can they be used to kill Eckhardt?" Hayato gestured towards the Shard in Kurtis' hand.

Off to the side, Tsuna sniffed; Hayato ignored him.

"He must be stabbed with all three Shards."

"We can divide the forces against us if we split up." Tsuna looked sharply at Hayato at that. Hayato raised a placating hand, "Not like that Tsuna. You know it's useless anyway." Hayato refocused on Kurtis. "They won't be affected by me and Tsuna going after them as two separate people, the two of us are still considered 'Lara Croft', a single person. Kurtis, you need the third Shard so you should go after that. Tsuna and I will find the last painting and destroy it."

"Okay. Eckhardt guards the Shard in his old Alchemy lab in the lower regions. I can find my way there."

Hayato pulled out the engraving and beckoned Kurtis closer as he held the engraving between them, "The engraving shows the painting hidden in something called the Vault of Trophies. Here. The entrance is underwater. No problem."

Tsuna turned around and headed out of the chamber, Hayato followed after him as Kurtis went the other way.

.

End chapter 5

#miss- err mr. and mr. croft #khrtr #khr #tomb raider #sawada tsunayoshi #gokudera hayato

[totalfanfreak]

One of Three - Chapter 3

One of Three

Chapter Three – How the Braid Unraveled

 They gave her directions to the restaurant, she could tell when she pulled up on the graveled lot that it was cozy, like a diner, a place where people went where they could get home cooking when they couldn’t get it at their actual home. She kept in a smile. It screamed a place for single men. The place was very busy inside, boisterous noises around the island to the bar, several of the men screaming at the television as whatever sport played on it. She continued to look around as the boys went to talk to the hostess at the podium, she could tell this wasn’t their first time here as they leant over the table with ease, talking to the girl who shoved them playfully as she laughed at whatever they said. They didn’t seem to have a problem with talking to people, comfortable and in their element when it came to chatting with whoever came in their path.

I used to be like that.

She had, she had been very in tune with people. Now she could hardly look at someone without thinking they had a hidden agenda against her. She looked back up seeing them turn to her, and the girl beamed at her too, until she saw Shepherd. It was second nature to her to bring him everywhere, and since she had stuck to only a choice few places to go those people had gotten used to seeing the dog by her side. Pulling up her purse, she began searching for her wallet, skimming through for the little ID card. She could hear the boys saying something to her, but she thrust the card at the girl, her hand shaking with nerves and a bit of shame. The girl’s eyes drifted to the card, her eyes widening with realization.

“Oh, oh, okay ma’am, come this way to be seated.”

She hiked her purse strap back up on her shoulder, she followed the girl, keeping her head tilted to the floor so the boys couldn’t catch her eye. They were placed in a booth near the window, and she took a place near the edge seat, facing towards the outside. They were still focused on her, but she felt herself relax, their laid back demeanor calming her.

“Care if we smoke, lass? Know this one didn’t think ta ask beforehand, but don’t wanta ruin yer appetite.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “I don’t mind, appreciate you asking though.”

Gif by memoriesinatrunk

They pulled the ashtray between them, both lighting up simultaneously. She kind of felt the urge to clap at that. Casting a look at her, Connor waved his hand to disperse the smoke that was wandering towards her.

“I’m fine, really.”

He nodded. “Hope I don’t offend ye, but yer not blind are ya, lass?”

She grinned. “I hope the DMV isn’t giving the blind licenses now. No…I’m epileptic. It’s not a big deal or anything. But since I developed it I always had a service dog with me, and I’ve gotten used to it. I like having Shep with me.”

Murphy nodded, his eyes tender. “Can tell he’s a good one, we weren’t meaning anyting by it, we’re just curious. So how long you had ‘im?”

She petted Shep, his head sitting on the vinyl seat. “Ten years, give or take a few months. He’s been a good friend.”

“He protect ye well?”

She looked through the smoke at Connor. “He does. Though I’m pretty good at taking care of myself.”

The question had thrown her off, making her suspicious again. Why would someone need to know if the dog guarded her or not. But the chuckle that came with her answer released her tension.

“That’s good, all the shit happenin’ the last few months, a girl needs ta protect herself. Would it bother ye if we asked how you…err?”

The way he gestured and the shame in his eyes, she knew Connor was wondering about her ailment.

She shrugged. “It’s okay, I don’t mind talking about it. It’s just the looks you get with it, I don’t like people to feel nervous around me, definitely not sorry for me. But it happened when I was about five we were staying at my grandparents’ house for the summer. Their house was by a lake, and we stayed by the water a lot. One day, I’m not even sure what my parents were doing but my brother and sister and I decided to play on the dock since the tide had rose. We kept seeing who could get in the most without leaving the dock. Well, my luck I fell in face first, and sunk like a rock, I ended up tangled up in some rope, and when I didn’t rise up my sister got my parents while my brother jumped in after me. He got me loose, but the lack of oxygen for so long it rewired my brain you could say and I started having seizures. But like I said I manage.”

She inhaled looking back up at them, and was a bit startled that there was no pity in their eyes but something of nostalgia, affection.

“Good ya had yer brother and sister, saved ye. Been a sad day if we didn’t get ta meetcha.”

She snorted making their smiles expand to grins. And she noted that they were the same as well. Yes, their looks were different, but the mannerism of it. The way their lips slowly parted spreading until all their teeth showed like a kid on their birthday, eyes lighting up as they crinkled on the sides. Happiness taking over their whole face. It was wonderful, and faltering.

Murphy flicked his ashes before pinning his gaze back on her. “Connor says you’re a triplet, yer brother and sister named after angle hierarchy as well?”

“Told ye, they’re named fer jewels. Ye never damn listen.”

“I fuckin’ listen, ye didn’t say nothin’ bout it.”

“Did so.”

“Níl tú nach raibh fucking. Tá sé tú ag iarraidh a dhéanamh dom breathnú cosúil le asal.”

(No you fucking didn't. It's you trying to make me look like an ass.)

“I don’t think you’re an ass.”

Murphy looked startled a minute while Connor chuckled. “Already forgot ye can understand us.”

“So what gems were you named after then?”

She smiled. “My mom was a gemologist, so she studied the uses and everything for all the jewels…it was actually supposed to be me and my brother so she had to come up on the spot for my sister, but Selene and Seraphine for Selenite and Seraphinite. Both gems were said to be used to communicate with angels, our poor brother got the worst of it though. He was named Sapphire, which was supposed to symbolize heaven and devotion to God.”

Both boys had started cackling before she finished and she couldn’t help but join them.

“Feel sorry for yer brother, how the hell yer ma could do that to him?”

She shrugged. “She thought it was unique. But when we were old enough he quickly shortened it to Sapph, and anyone who called him otherwise was likely to get beaten up for it.”

“Except yer ma and you girls?”

“Meh, mom and Selene were fine, but Sapp and me fight all the time. In case you thought I was demented it’s why I smile when you two go at it, I know it’s not anything mean or personal just something you do. It’s like a hug but with open hand slaps.”

They laughed again, nodding in agreement.

She grinned, her eyes then catching the smoke rings coming from Murphy’s mouth. “Oh, that’s neat.”

Gif by Katieshox

She let her finger poke through, changing the ring’s shape.

“All in de tongue, love.”

“All I can do with mine is roll my rs’s and make one of those clover things.”

Their brows lifted at that. “Well show us lass, we could use some good luck.”

She chortled shaking her head, glad to see the waitress coming. Giving their orders Connor ducked under the table before looking back at her.

“Ain’tcha goin’ to order for the pooch?”

“Oh, no, he’ll get his dinner when we get home.”

“Aww, come now, love, yer the one that said he’s why ye fetched me. He deserves a reward don’tcha think?”

She looked to Murphy who shrugged. “Told ye lass, I would’ve let him drown out there, though it’d be wrong to make him watch us eat with nothin’ for him.”

Lucky for her the place had hard boiled eggs so she got two for Shep as they settled down with their drinks.

“So ye ma works with gems and such, so what’s yer da do?”

So they hadn’t caught the past tense in her sentence. And her dad…she didn’t really want to talk about him at the moment.

“Oh, no, that’s enough about me. You boys tell me something about you, besides being too manly for umbrellas and having a knack for languages.”

Snubbing out the cigarette, Connor leaned closer to her. “Aye, and what would ye like to know lass?”

She shrugged. “Anything I guess, have you always lived in Boston? Do you like what you do? What’s your favorite thing to do? Anything.”

Murphy answered then. “Connor and I moved here around seven years ago, left Ireland with what we could carry on our backs.”

“Why’d you come here? Was there something you wanted to do or…?”

They both shrugged. “Seemed like what was right fer us. The American dream and all that, wanted ta see what the fuss was about over here. Knew Boston was full of the Irish so best settled down here, right? Got offered the job at the plant, make enough money to get a good place ta live and some to send off to our ma. S’good enough.”

Her stare softened. “That’s sweet that you take care of your mom like that. So you do like it here? Does it feel like home?”

Connor rubbed his face in thought. “Well now, don’t know how ta exactly explain that, nothin’s quite like Ireland, but yeah, it’s home…I guess anywhere is, ya know?”

She did know. She knew exactly. “Because you have each other, that’s what makes it home.”

They turned to each other before back to her, astonished glee in their eyes.

They answered her at the same time. “Exactly.”

She took a sip of her water before nodding. “I get it. I wish I could be with my brother and sister right now.”

“Why aren’tcha lass?”

She gulped on that, various emotions setting in.

Because I can’t.

She fiddled with the napkin ring, Shep feeling her discontent whimper as she patted him.

“I –“

Their food was brought over then, and she was glad not to have answered. Making herself busy by cutting up the egg for Shep before twiddling potatoes around her own plate. They were still waiting on her, expectant, their faces clear of judgement encouraging her to answer.

She pursed her lips, voice low to keep the trembling out. “We lost her, Selene, about a year and a half ago. We couldn’t protect her, and after a while Sapph thought he couldn’t protect me so he went on his own. I still hear from him but not as much as I’d like. I miss him. I miss them both.”

Every minute of every day I miss them.

It was quiet, and she started to look up when she felt herself surrounded on both sides. Her breath hitched when two pairs of arms wove around her. She lurched, surprised by so much contact, and yet so comforted, the familiarity welcomed.

Her ear was warmed by Murphy’s voice. “Couldn’t imagine goin’ through anything like that lass, you’re a brave one, no doubt on that. I might get aggravated by the stupid shit but I don’t know how I’d cope without him. Ye shouldn’t be alone though. And if ye need somebody…”

Her heart hammered, the fullness being too much. She wasn’t sure what they were offering to her, wasn’t sure if she even wanted anything from two people she just met, but she didn’t want to let go yet to be undone for so long, now being woven again, it felt joyous and torturous at the same time. Before long they pulled away, the warmth diminishing and giving her the chance to breathe again.

Licking her lips she looked at her plate. “Thank you.”

She sighed, not knowing why her hands wandered to her bag, Selene’s bag. Her hand clutching around a gaudy keychain that held a picture of them in it, she handed it to the boys. It was an unflattering picture of her, her face scrunched up with uninhibited laughter lying on her back with Selene collapsed on top of her with her own giggles, Sapph was next to them knees drawn up wanting to be angry but laughing in exasperation. She couldn’t remember how they had gotten in the exact position but Sapph had been dumb, putting his new cell phone in his back pocket and unaware, had fallen back to sit somewhere cracking the screen to pieces. All that money wasted her and Selene poked fun at him, the result being this, a friend taking the photo when they weren’t paying attention. Always the best pictures, the ones when you’re too caught up in the moment to care about everything else.

“I know we don’t look too much alike.”

They didn’t, but they did. Of course they weren’t identical, triplets hardly were, but they had similar features. They all had auburn hair from their mom, though Sera’s was the darkest borderline chestnut, Selene’s near a strawberry blonde and Sapph’s somewhere in the middle. They all had hazel eyes, courtesy of their father, green overtaking with hints of a golden brown surrounding it. Her and Selene looked more alike, both having something akin to cherub cheeks while Sapph’s had diminished as he grew older the cheekbones more prominent.

“Now, that’s a lie love, all three of ye have the same secret smile going there. Like ye have something ta tell but you ain’t goin’ to.”

She felt bad when they left, like she had put them out and through the ringer. She was glad to not go into too much detail on things but it was still enough to be off putting. Dropping them off at what she thought was a warehouse though they had assured her they lived there, they had both given her a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek and she was sad and a little glad she wouldn’t be seeing them again.

#the boondock saints #boondock saints #connor macmanus #murphy macmanus #connor and murphy macmanus #norman reedus #sean patrick flanery #my ocs #chapter 3

[biguns60plus]

The entire world HAS BEEN and is ( MANIPULATED TO BE AND IS ) participating in an satanic black occult corona-initiation ritual, although hardly anyone will OR IS realizing it! WAKE UP see the truth and their evil agenda...Give yourself the gift of reading the following, especially if you call yourself a Christian.

The measures and policies which governments have rolled out worldwide ever since Operation Coronavirus began –

such as quarantine,

lockdown,

hand-washing,

mask-wearing,

social distancing and more –

are in fact aspects of occult initiation ritual.

These aspects have been cleverly adapted to the current fake pandemic and disguised as genuine public health strategies.

As I covered in previous articles, this pandemic is a 9-11 type event which has been meticulously planned for decades.

The people who run the world, whom I often call the New World Order (NWO) conspirators, leave very little to chance.

They are black magicians, and they are running this live exercise in a similar fashion to how they run their secret Satanic rituals.

In both cases, the goal is the same:

to take initiates out of their normal mode of existence,

break them down,

engender submission,

remold them in the likeness of their leaders,

and then finally,

return them to a new normal where they cannot return to their old ways and lives.

Corona-Initiation Ritual: Lockdown and Quarantine (Isolation)

Any good ritual requires preparation.

The first part of an initiation ritual is isolation.

This isolation serves to separate the initiate from the mundane (“of the world”) affairs of his life.

It is often done by cutting all ties with the outside world.

Sometimes, the initiate may be sent into a dark room or cave; this also suggests a coming re-birth from a dark womb.

Nowadays this isolation also requires separation from technology and everything that comes with it (phones, computers, emails, social media, etc.).

The sensory deprivation sends the initiate afloat where she is less tethered to beliefs and behaviors.

In Operation Coronavirus, the lockdown and quarantine were the isolation aspect of the ritual.

Those aware of the situation noticed that quarantining an entire community of healthy people was a contradiction in terms, because the very word quarantine means “a state, period, or place of isolation in which people or animals that have arrived from elsewhere or been exposed to infectious or contagious disease are placed.”

Thus by definition one cannot quarantine uninfected,

healthy people;

one can only quarantine infected, sick people.

However the agenda was to isolate people by any means necessary to achieve the first step of initiation.

Corona-Initiation Ritual: Hand-Washing (Rejection)

Another element of the ritual has been the obsessive and compulsive focus on hand washing.

While hand washing in general is a good hygienic activity which can help limit spread of disease,

Operation Coronavirus has taken it to a completely new level of OCD, obcessive compulsion disorder; anxiety (by design, of course).

Symbolically, the washing of hands is reminiscent of the story of Pontius Pilate from the bible, who washed his hands of the matter regarding the fate of Jesus of Nazareth, and refused to either punish him or set him free.

From this perspective, hand-washing is about rejection.

But who or what is being rejected?

The ‘old normal’ of freedom?

Corona-Initiation Ritual: Mask-Wearing (Censorship, Submission, Dehumanization, Alternate Persona)

Fourthly, masks are often used by the elite themselves at their parties and rituals.

Remember the Satanic sexual orgy scene from Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut?

Masks hide identity.

They hasten the ‘death’ of the old identity.

Masks create an alternate persona.

This ties in with the incredibly important theme of Satanic Ritual Abuse (SRA) and mind control.

In mind control, a ‘handler’ uses torture and abuse to force the victim to dissociate.

This is where their minds split off and detach from reality in order to deal with the tremendous pain which is being inflicted upon them.

It’s an inbuilt mental defensive strategy.

However, in doing so, the victim creates multiple ‘alters’ or personalities which are disconnected from their base personality.

These alters do not know about the existence of other alters;

thus the victim can be programmed to do things (e.g. become a sex slave or an assassin) and not recall doing them,

because an alter can be triggered to come forward and then return to the subconscious after the event.

When it comes to mind control, masks are symbolic of the hidden aspects or personas of ourselves which the NWO controllers are deliberately targeting with their subliminal propaganda.

Mask-wearing is a huge topic in many ways.

In the article Unmasking the Truth: Studies Show Dehumanizing Masks Weaken You and Don’t Protect You

I covered some of the medical reasons why wearing a mask is not only medically useless if you want to protect yourself from COVID,

but also potentially harmful to your health.

However, there are many layers deeper when it comes to the ritualistic aspects of masks.

Firstly, masks connote censorship,

the covering of one’s mouth,

gagging

and the suppression of a free voice.

Think how many images depicting censorship show a person with tape over their mouth.

Censorship has been a massive part of this agenda, even before it officially happened,

with all the Event 201 aficionados practicing their simulation for hours about how they would control the official narrative and censor alternative viewpoints.

Secondly, masks symbolize submission,

the giving up of unrestricted access to oxygen.

This entire agenda is not about the virus;

it’s about control.

It’s about forcing people to submit to the will of the NWO manipulators,

even when it is legally and medically unwarranted.

Thirdly, masks are reminiscent of robots.

They are dehumanizing.

They remove one’s ability to see fully into another person’s face.

They create distance and separation in people,

make it harder for us to communicate via body language

and make it harder for us to have empathy for others,

since that empathy is often based on truly seeing another person.

Corona-Initiation Ritual: Social Distancing (The New Normal)

Once the ritual heads towards completion, the initiate comes out into a new mode of thinking and a new manner of behaving.

He is remade in the image of his handlers or manipulators who conducted the ritual.

In the case of COVID, the end goal is the new normal where everyone is permanently separated and disconnected (as well as tested, tracked, contact traced, monitored, surveilled, medicated and vaccinated).

Social distancing is really anti-social distancing;

it’s all about removing the human touch from our interactions.

That touch is what makes us human.

The Overarching Goal of the Ritual: Destroying the Old and Creating the New

If I were to sum up the entire corona-initiation ritual with one concept, it would be this old, tried and true one.

Ordo ab chao.

The Hegelian dialectic.

Problem-reaction-solution.

The phoenix rising out of ashes.

All of these phrases point towards the same method:

destroying the old to make way for creating the new.

The true purpose of ritual is to alter one’s mind and character, and it can be done

consciously or unconsciously,

wittingly or unwittingly.

Ritual can be used for white magic just as much as black magic, e.g. you can use this technique to conquer destructive habits within yourself and become a better person.

It’s just that in the context of the worldwide conspiracy, this method is used by the NWO conspirators to make the world a less free, less peaceful, more controlled and more hierarchical place.

Final Thoughts

Operation Coronavirus is a worldwide ritual, and its many elements are highly symbolic.

People are being led along as unwitting participants without a clue as to how they are unconsciously supporting the deeper agenda (e.g. by cooperating with their own enslavement, acquiescing to ridiculous restrictions and even actively policing their fellow citizens).

The fact that this fake coronavirus pandemic is a ritual is not surprising, given that the inner core of the NWO are Satanists who practice black magic.

As surviving whistleblowers attest, some of their Satanic rituals involve rape, hunting humans like animals, mass orgies, drinking human blood, cannibalism and child sacrifice.

We must remain vigilant to the deeper symbolic aspects of this agenda if we are to truly retain our rights and our freedom in the face of this darkness.

By Makia Freeman / Editor and senior researcher

( OUR CHILDREN HAVE BEEN KIDNAPPED INTO THE GREATEST BLACK MAGIC SCAM THE WORLD HAS EVER KNOWN. 90 % OF SOLVING ANY PROBLEM IS UNCOVERING AND UNDERSTANDING IT!

WE AS AMERICANS ( CHRISTIANS) CAN STAND UP AND DEMAND ENOUGH IS ENOUGH, THANKFULLY WE HAVE GUNS. WE CAN DEMAND OUR DIVINE INALIENABLE RIGHTS. TIME TO GO BACK TO WORK, OUR CHILDREN BACK TO SCHOOL, AND THESE BLACK MAGIC CRIMINALS INTO JAIL. PERSONALLY I BELIEVE DONALD TRUMP, PATRIOTS, ARE LEADING THIS FIGHT.

IGNORANCE IS NOT BLISS. Copy/ Paste email to every church you belong and/ or know. Maybe their ministers can wake up their congregations to truth.

William Wyttenbach, M.D.

August 1, 2020 Hon. Discharged Major USAF commonlaw copyright my comments above).

Makia Freeman is the editor of alternative media / independent news site The Freedom Articles and senior researcher at ToolsForFreedom.com, writing on many aspects of truth and freedom, from exposing aspects of the worldwide conspiracy to suggesting solutions for how humanity can create a new system of peace and abundance.

(Source: wakingtimes.com; July 16, 2020; https://tinyurl.com/yysnempv)

[everlasting-gospel]

New Post has been published on Present Truth

New Post has been published on https://presenttruth.info/preach-the-gospel-december-2018/

Preach the Gospel - December 2018

On His last face to face encounter with His disciples, Jesus commanded, “Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel* to every creature” (Mark 16:15). This is a momentous task, yet we are not left to do this alone. Jesus assured us, “All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth. Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. Amen” (Matthew 28:18-20). His command to preach the gospel to the world is accompanied by His promise that He will always be with us (Matthew 18:20; John 14:18), and that He has been given “all power.” With help like this we can do all things (Philippians 4:13; 1 John 4:4).

_______________________________________ * Please request the study entitled, “What is the Gospel?”

The Bible says that, “God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Ghost and with power: who went about doing good, and healing all that were oppressed of the devil; for God was with him” (Acts 10:38). When Jesus was here, His great success depended upon His Father being with Him doing the works (John 14:10). Our success in preaching the Gospel today is dependant upon God being with us through Christ (John 14:23; 15:1-5; Titus 3:5, 6). Without Christ in us, we can have no true success in sharing the gospel. If you want success in ministering to the world, strengthen your connection with the source of love (1 John 4:7, 8).

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Jesus said, “Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid. Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matthew 5:14-16).

We are the light of the world, yet Jesus explained, “I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life” (John 8:12). Being a light in our part of the world is dependent upon allowing Christ to direct our steps and live through us, for He is the real light of the world. We are only the light of the world in proportion to how much of Jesus we are allowing to shine through us.

Jesus gave an important lesson when He said, “Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me. I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing” (John 15:4-5).

Is your light flickering, barely producing light? The solution is to abide in Christ; let Him shine through you. It will not work to try to manufacture your own light (Isaiah 50:10, 11). Rely on the one who knows best how to lead you to the most productive path in life. With Christ inside, good things are bound to happen.

An Analogy

I heard an analogy recently that I really like. It goes something like this:

You are holding a cup of grape juice when someone comes along and bumps you causing the juice to spill everywhere.

Why did you spill the grape juice?

“Well because someone bumped into me, of course!”

Wrong answer!

You spilled the grape juice because there was grape juice in your cup.

Had there been lemonade in the cup, you would have spilled lemonade.

Whatever is inside the cup, is what will spill out.

That is such an important principle. The Bible says, “Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life” (Proverbs 4:23). Jesus said, “…how can ye, being evil, speak good things? for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh” (Matthew 12:34).

When faced with difficult situations, what is on the inside will come out. If you squeeze a grape, grape juice comes out. It would be weird if lemon juice came out. If you squeeze a Christian, Christ should come out. It would be weird if anything else came out. Our reactions to situations demonstrate who is on the inside.

A driver cuts us off in traffic. Whatever is inside the heart, is what will spill out.

Someone makes fun of us. Whatever is inside the heart is what will spill out.

A coworker takes credit for our work. Whatever is inside the heart is what will spill out.

The person in line in front of us is causing a tremendous delay. Whatever is inside the heart is what will spill out.

Someone is stranded beside the road. Whatever is inside the heart is what will spill out.

Someone is sobbing as you walk by. Whatever is inside the heart is what will spill out.

Someone is struggling to carry a load. Whatever is inside the heart is what will spill out.

A heart filled with the love of God will respond one way. A heart filled with anger, bitterness and ingratitude will respond another. Whatever is inside the heart, is what will spill out. I pray that you will be so filled with Christ and His love that whatever life throws at you, Christ will spill out.

Increasing our success in preaching the gospel to the world depends upon increasing our connection with Christ on a personal level. The more filled you are with Christ (Ephesians 3:14-21), the more people will be drawn to you with a desire to have what you have. Your ministry to others does not depend upon how dazzling your presentations, or how engaging your public events, but on how much of Christ you allow to shine through you. Jesus said, “And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me” (John 12:32).

Shining Out to Others

Ministry has often been sidetracked from what is really important. Many people have gotten caught up in vain religion that does not truly help people. (For a compelling study on this, please request the study “Vain Religion”.)

The Bible says, “Behold, ye fast for strife and debate, and to smite with the fist of wickedness: ye shall not fast as ye do this day, to make your voice to be heard on high. Is it such a fast that I have chosen? a day for a man to afflict his soul? is it to bow down his head as a bulrush, and to spread sackcloth and ashes under him? wilt thou call this a fast, and an acceptable day to the Lord? Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke? Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh? Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thine health shall spring forth speedily: and thy righteousness shall go before thee; the glory of the Lord shall be thy rereward” (Isaiah 58:4-8).

Pure religion is manifested in two ways, 1) by helping people with their basic needs, and 2) living a life in harmony with God’s commands (James 1:26, 27). This can only be accomplished with Christ abiding in our hearts. “Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee. For, behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people: but the Lord shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon thee. And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising” (Isaiah 60:1-3). I pray that God will arise in your heart so fully that everyone around you will be stunned with the brightness.

An Inspiring Quote

I read something that was truly inspiring, which says, “Christ’s method alone will give true success in reaching the people. The Saviour mingled with men as one who desired their good. He showed His sympathy for them, ministered to their needs, and won their confidence. Then He bade them, ‘Follow Me.’ There is need of coming close to the people by personal effort. If less time were given to sermonizing, and more time were spent in personal ministry, greater results would be seen. The poor are to be relieved, the sick cared for, the sorrowing and the bereaved comforted, the ignorant instructed, the inexperienced counseled. We are to weep with those that weep, and rejoice with those that rejoice. Accompanied by the power of persuasion, the power of prayer, the power of the love of God, this work will not, cannot, be without fruit” (Ministry of Healing, pages 143, 144).

Jesus said, “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matthew 5:16). Take every opportunity to let Christ shine through you to those around you. When you go to the store, don’t think you are there just for the item you are purchasing, you are there to let Jesus shine through you. Open yourself to the possibilities around you for sharing God’s goodness with others. Pray for divine appointments that will fill each day with evidence of God’s guidance in your life and bring joy to everyone you meet.

Ministry Ideas

Door to Door Evangelism: Going door to door to talk to people about the Lord can be intimidating, but it can yield some incredible experiences and bring people closer to the Lord. Recently three of the men in our study group went door to door to share the love of God with people. We went without any agenda to sell anything or to get people to join a denomination. Rather we went with the goal of allowing God to shine through us to bless the people we met in whatever way He wishes. Because we were not trying to get money we were not rushed to get to the next house. We were open to spending as much time as necessary at each location to be the best blessing we could be. At the first door where we knocked, a man invited us in. This brother had wanted to find fellowship with others who could encourage him on his journey with the Lord. We spent an hour sharing testimonies and studying with him. He asked if we would be willing to study with him each week. Going door to door is easier if you go with someone. Jesus sent the disciples out two by two (Mark 6:7).

Hospital Visitation: On several occasions a few of us entered a hospital visiting people we didn’t know to see if we could pray with them or somehow be a blessing. Most people in a hospital are very happy to have someone pray with them. On one occasion a man expressed his gratitude, stating that when his father was in the hospital, just before he died, a chaplain came to his room to pray with him and walked him through accepting Jesus as His Saviour. This man explained that his father had been an abusive drunk all his life, and that the chaplain had accidently gone to the wrong room, which actually turned out to be the right room in God’s plan. He strongly encouraged us to continue doing what we were doing. Now, on that occasion we had no official permission from the hospitals to do what we were doing, but God blessed anyway. Sometimes we were asked to leave that area, so we moved to another. Always be courteous and respectful to the staff. Just recently I became an official chaplain for a nearby hospital, but you can bless people without that credential. A lot can be done just in the waiting room. Mingle with the people waiting, and see how you can be a blessing to them.

Volunteer Fire Department: Six years ago a neighbor whom I had never met came to my house and asked me if I would like to join the fire department. My initial thought was, “No,” but I told him I would pray about it. The Lord impressed me to join, so the next day I joined our local Volunteer Fire Department. This is not a work for everyone, but it is an avenue that has allowed me to interact with my community and be a blessing in some amazing ways. If you believe the Lord wants you to do that, contact your local fire department. There are also many other volunteer opportunities available where you can be a blessing to others in practical ways.

Jail Ministry: Six years ago a man in our local study group asked if I would like to do jail ministry. Of course! Three days later we were in the jail sharing the gospel with the inmates. God opened the doors very quickly for that to happen. Soon afterwards we started ministering at the juvenile jail. This outreach has been a great blessing for us as well as to the inmates (Proverbs 11:25). If you are interested to do jail ministry, contact a jail nearby, and ask to talk to the chaplain. See what is involved in ministering there. Some jails are harder to get into than others. If one does not work, try another one. The jails I work in now are about an hour away, but it is well worth the drive. I bring books and tracts to share with the inmates. Doing jail ministry through the mail is another way to bless inmates. Check with a chaplain to see how this can be accomplished.

Local Bible Studies: We have been having local Bible studies in our community for several years, but within the last two years we have made a greater effort to encourage local friends and neighbors to join us. God has blessed in this outreach. Establish a place to study, and then start inviting your neighbors to study the Bible with you. Be consistent. There have been several times I was the only one who showed up, but I have kept with it, and now we have a good little group who meet regularly, and faithful men who lead out in the Bible study when I am away.

Literature Outreach: There are many ways to share literature. We purchased small, clear, plastic display racks that can be set on a table or counter and hold about ten of our newsletters. Most of the smaller businesses have been happy to display them for us. Currently there are about 20 businesses in our local area that are displaying our newsletters for people to get their free copy. Some from other states have been displaying them in their local areas as well. If you are interested in this outreach, let us know and we can supply you with literature. Some people leave materials in public areas, bulletin boards, bathrooms, etc. Some will go door to door and leave them on the porch. Others find a blessing in sharing them door to door by talking and praying with people. The blessings of this work is greater than words can express. This experience is extremely valuable for anyone including those who will be moving on to other areas of evangelism work.

Going through a Campground: At a recent camp meeting several went through the campground talking to people about the Lord. Every day we had rich experiences that encouraged us to go out the next day.

List of Contacts: Start building a list of contacts so you can have it available to invite people to Bible studies or other events, or send them literature or interest cards.

Benevolent Work: Find out if there is anything you can do to help people in need. In every community there are needs you can help with and thereby let Christ shine to people with whom you would not have otherwise interacted.

Build Relationships: Get acquainted with the people around you and build relationships. Often it is not about what you know, but who you know.

Pray for Divine Appointments: Ask God to lead you to someone or some way you can be a blessing each day. Take risks! Paul went where God led him even though he was put in some dangerous places (2 Corinthians 11:24-28).

Nursing Home Ministry: Visit a local nursing home and see how you can be a blessing there. Some have setup weekly times to sing or read the Bible. This is something that can allow participation from people of all ages.

Telephone Ministry: Some have called numbers in a phone book to pray with and encourage people in that way.

Street Witnessing: There are numerous opportunities to do ministry in parks or public areas where many people gather. The apostle Paul did this type of ministry (Acts 17:22-31; 16:13-15).

Conclusion

The list of ways to preach the gospel is endless, but the bottom line is, go out and mingle with people around you so the light of Christ can reach your community. Make a difference! Be the change! This starts with surrendering your own life to Christ so when people see you they will see Christ. You don’t have to be perfect for God to bless people, but the more you are submitted to Christ, the greater your success will be in sharing the gospel. Your first mission field is your family. A family patterned after God’s order is one of the most powerful witnessing tools (1 Corinthians 11:3; Ephesians 5:33-6:4).

Make yourself available for God to direct you in your everyday life. If you get an impression to do something to bless others, obey the call. Don’t put it off for another time or for someone else to do. God gave you that impression for a reason. He wants to use you, and there is no better place you can be than in the center of His will (John 12:49, 50).

Preach the gospel always, and if necessary, use words.

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