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Far From Home Chapter 19

Chapter Warnings: None

Characters: Overlord, Sunder Froid

Other Tags: Unrequited love, Canon Divergent, Alternate Universe, Reader Insert, Gender Neutral Pronouns, Xeno, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Threats of Violence, Violence, Gore, Blood, Stockholm Syndrome, Mentioned PTSD, Implied Voyeurism, Character Death, Forced Relationship, Pining, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Swearing, Implied Abuse, Implied PTSD, Referenced Forced Relationship

Words: 2,170

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Froid makes his way through the forest, the doctor following close behind and you in hand. You sit silently, dipping the doll’s yarn hair in the small container in the bag. You decide not to take it out of the bag, not wanting to make a mess and risk Froid being more upset than he already is. The tension in the air between you two is thick and the words he whispered to you ringing in your mind.

What did he mean by that anyway?

Keep reading

1 notes

हिंसा पर दिल्ली पुलिस की प्रेस कॉन्फ्रेंसः कमिश्नर बोले- किसी भी दोषी को बख्शा नहीं जाएगा

हिंसा पर दिल्ली पुलिस की प्रेस कॉन्फ्रेंसः कमिश्नर बोले- किसी भी दोषी को बख्शा नहीं जाएगा

नई दिल्लीः मंगलवार को गणतंत्र दिवस के मौके पर किसान आंदोलन के दौरान हुई हिंसा को लेकर दिल्ली पुलिस ने आज प्रेस कॉन्फ्रेंस की. इस पीसी के दौरान पुलिस ने बताया कि लाल किले पर हुई घटना और हिंसा की जांच की जा रही है और दोषियों की पहचान कर उनके खिलाफ सख्त कार्रवाई की जाएगी.
दिल्ली पुलिस के कमिश्नर एसएन श्रीवास्तव ने प्रेस कॉन्फ्रेंस को संबोधित किया. इस दौरान उन्होंने बताया कि पुलिस द्वारा किसान नेताओं…

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mjolnir, writing in Descendant Academy, a part of Descendant:

It has been a decade since the closing of the Descendant Academy. Once the U.N. created the International Hero Association, I.H.A., the usefulness for such an academy dwindled. Every self titled hero or person with special abilities was registered, cataloged, thrown into a databank and given jurisdiction over a district. Depending on a heroes rank, they were assigned to neighborhoods, cities and sometimes, the most powerful, were sent to help an entire nation.

And this worked.

Sometimes the order and regulation of it all was tedious, but it kept certain heroes in line while protecting the world from threats domestic… and foreign. It wasn’t perfect, but it brought about a time of peace, although brief.

It was a year ago when it started happening. It began with the lower ranked heroes. They leave to go on a mission like any other, but never return. It was nothing out of the ordinary for a hero to go missing every so often. It was assumed they were killed in action by whomever the villainous threat was at the time. So, at first, no special proceedings were taken beyond the normal when a member of the I.H.A. went missing.

But then it grew more frequent. It started turning heads when it was happening all over the world rather than confined to areas like Manhattan. The I.H.A. and U.N. began looking into it all further while implementing more protocols for the heroes protection. But a month ago, when top tier heroes disappeared, the world went into a frenzy. With no one to protect them, what would happen when there was another attack like Thanos or Steppenwolf… or worse?

With no other choice, Phil Coulson and Alfred Pennyworth, who were left to look after the Descendant Academy after it close, sent out a distress signal. There was a secret hero network created before the I.H.A. and while it was ordered to be shut down years ago, it was kept up as a fail safe in case the new association was compromised. The message was around the world on the old frequency, to anyone who might be listening. The only information it gave was a date, time and coordinates.

For now… everything is quiet. Quiet, until threat came out of the shadows showing their true intentions.







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william richards
jr. fantasticx|xoutfitx|x#0b4a8b


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It had been nearly two months since William’s parents and the rest of the Fantastic Four disappeared. Classified as some of the higher tier heroes, they resided within the Baxter building as protectors of Manhattan but also the eastern seaboard of America and Canada. Before their disappearance, Will was in Greenland studding the polar ice caps and global warming. For over two years he had been working on a machine that would help make more glaciers. It was a large, autonomous machine that would be submerged into the Arctic Ocean and, essentially, make giant ocean ice cubes.

It took a few days for the news of the Fantastic Fours disappearance to reach Will. Although he hadn’t heard from his parents in a few weeks, that was normal considering his location. But when the news hit him, it still sunk like a brick in his gut. He knew heroes have been turning up missing and it had only been getting worse in recent months. Perhaps his remote location is why he was luck enough to not have fallen under the same fate? Either way, he had no choice but abandon his work and to return to New York to aid in the search for the missing heroes.

Some might call it tempting fate, how Will decided to return to the Baxter building and reside where his parents did as he searched for them. It’s unknown if they went missing from inside the tower or on a mission, but many others have been avoiding hero head quarters like they had the plague. From what he had heard the Avengers tower had been a ghost town for the better part of the year and even civilians will walk a block out of their way to avoid it. It was like everyone was scared that if they went anywhere near remnants of the heroes, they too would go missing.

But Will wasn’t the superstitious sort. His best bet was to stay where they were last seen and hope that some sort of clue or hint would turn up. It didn’t hurt that the Fantastic Four had one of the best labs in the world. And perhaps, a small part of him, wanted to use himself as bait. Every lead the U.N. and I.H.A. had ran cold. So, in his mind, the best information he could get would be from the attackers himself.

William had lost track of the last time he slept or found even a crumb of information to follow when the distress call came in. The beeping in the Baxter Building took him such surprise he nearly fell out of his chair. But it wasn’t a common alert from the many sensors, scanners and satellites he had skimming… well, everything. It was an old tune that chirped from the communications room.

Once he accepted the message, his heart sank for a moment when nothing came through. But just before he turned the machine off, it began to beep in morse code. Date. Time. Longitude. Latitude. Will could nearly contain the glimmer of hope that radiated from him as he quickly wrote it all down. This was it. This was the lead he needed. He hurried over to the large map and entered in the coordinates. Then the location pinged on the map.

The Descendant Academy.

Will froze as he stared at the blinking red light. This was either really good… or really really bad.

* * *


A strange sense of deja vu, or perhaps nostalgia, washed over Will as he turned onto the long drive toward the Descendant tower. It had been ten long years since he last looked upon the building. And while, one hand it hadn’t aged a day. It also looked like a barren ghost town. No buildings for miles, empty docks and weeds blowing in the wind through cracked concrete.

He half expected to arrived to a bustling throughway, with dozens of cars littering the lot surrounding the glimmering tower. But he should have known better. As his car slowly came to a halt near the entrance, he was surprised to find not a single vehicle, nor a light glimmering from behind mirrored windows. Was it all a ruse? Or perhaps this was how so many heroes had gone missing? It put him on edge, but he also couldn’t help the slight ping of hope that still shined in the back of his mind. He couldn’t afford to give up.

Will turned off his car, leaving it parked in the large round about area. On an other occasion he might have actually pulled it into a spot, or the garage below the building. But in the event he might need a quick escape, he wanted it readily available. And it wasn’t like there were others there to argue about him ‘parking in a no parking zone’.

He stood before the entrance for a long moment, adjusting his necktie and taking a deep breath. Will had to know. He had to. Before he could talk himself out of it, he reached out his hand and opened the large glass door. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t seeing Phil and Alfred standing in the foyer waiting for him like nothing had changed.

“Mr. Richards, it is so good to see you,” Alfred greeted him, crossing the lobby to offer his hand.

Still in bewilderment, Will took his hand and shook it before bringing the man into a friendly hug. “—The hell are you both doing here?” He then moved to Phil, giving him a similar greeting. “I thought this place was closed down years ago?”

“It was,” Coulson confirmed. “We’re more of glorified grounds keepers.”

Will’s brows furrowed as he tried to understand what exactly was going on. “So… I have to ask, what is going on here?”

Alfred looked to Phil before responding. “We should wait and see if anyone else arrives. Then we’ll explain everything.”





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myla murdock
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Manhattan had quickly become a mess with the absence of some of it’s most predominant heroes. The average crime rate was hard enough for Myla to handle alone, but then the audacity of criminals only seemed to rise with each new disappearance. She had been so focused on trying to help pick up the slack that her work suffered. Until, eventually, she lost her job… Which caused her to lose her apartment as well.

Luckily, her Uncle Foggy had been spending all his free time helping her search for her father or any other heroes in the area that might have answers. For several months Myla had been staying with him, although she was rarely home enough to call it that. His apartment became more of a glorified base camp to eat and shower before she had to leave again.

The only other hero she had heard of that was still… around was William Richards. The Fantastic Four were no strangers to media, and whether or not Myla would call it smart, he had been using this to his advantage. It wasn’t hidden knowledge that heroes were more myth than fact those days, but civilians were happy in their ignorance rather than excepting the truth. She had tried on a few occasions to contact the man, but she also couldn’t help but worry if it was a ploy to pull more heroes out of the wood work. Instead, she tried to reach the U.N. and I.H.A. to no avail.

It was the anniversary of her father’s disappearance and crime in Hell’s Kitchen was at an all time high. Myla was exhausted. She couldn’t remember the last time she got more than a handful hours of sleep before she heard more sirens or police scanners in the distance begging for her attention. Without the Avengers or Defenders, and half of the New York Sanctum empty, whatever heroes remained were pulled in several directions at once.

She had stopped five separate crimes in Midtown Manhattan already that night and the sun had barely set. Myla made a detour back to her Uncle Foggy’s just for a quick bite to eat and to address some wounds. With no sirens or distant cries for help, she allowed herself a moment to collapse on the couch. Just a minute of rest. No sooner did her head hit a pillow did she hear a foreign beeping.

With a groan, she sat up and followed the sound to a box shoved in one of Foggy’s closet. It was what they could muster up of her father’s belongings before his apartment was seized after his disappearance. Myla had all but forgotten about it. Neither herself nor her Uncle had the heart to sift through it’s contents. But if she had to hoped to get any sleep before she was needed again, she had to silence the damned beeping.

Hidden beneath a jacket, a few braille books and trinkets she had given him as a child, Myla found a small device from which the noise was coming from. It felt like pager, of sorts. But if there was a screen, there was no way she could read it and it her Uncle wasn’t home. She cursed under her breath, trying to understand the device best she could. There seemed to be only a single button, so she pressed it. Then a robotic sounding voice spoke out from the small box. “41.158558, -73.166693 September 23, 18 00 hours.”

Myla’s eyes widened. Was this a message from her dad?! Could he be found at these coordinates?! She quickly searched the apartment trying to find her phone or a recorder, repeating the information over and over in her head so she could repeat it before forgetting. As she felt around, her hand accidentally pressed the button again. “No. No. No,” she panicked, thinking she erased the information. But like before it repeated the data.

She let out a sigh of relief, holding the pager close to her chest. “I’m coming dad,” she whispered.

* * *


Myla could smell the sea salt in the air as her taxi turned down a drive towards the coordinates. It felt different than the city. Everything was more open and quiet. She could hear the sounds of the waves against the shore and the wind whipping around a singular sky touching tower. To the best of her ability, she couldn’t sense any other buildings in the general area. So, she could only assume that that was her destination.

In the distance, Myla though she might have heard another car but it was far more quiet than she was used to. So, rather than concern herself over it, she focused on whatever might come of this meeting. She hoped, that she would step out of the taxi and there her dad would be, like nothing had change and it was all part of some elaborate ruse to fool some big bad that was threatening the world or something. But she knew it was wishful thinking. She still found herself saying a silent prayer before the car came to a halt and the driver announced that they had arrived.

She gathered her bag and cane, but before she was able to open the car door, it opened for her. “Allow me,” a deep, yet somehow familiar, male voice greeted her. Myla sensed his hand extended out to her, but he must have noticed her cane because he then took her hand. Sometimes she forgot that when she was 'just Myla’ people saw her as blind, not the daughter of Daredevil.

“Thank you… Mr. Richards,” she replied as she let him help her out of the car. He didn’t say anything, but she imagined the twisted confused expression on his face. Myla smiled. “The media does love you. I don’t think I can go a day without you on the news. I have an ear for voices,” she concluded pointing to her ear. “And the stretchy arm gave you away.” Feeling no need to keep up the act, Myla collapsed her seeing cane and tucked it under her arm before heading toward the entrance.

William lingered behind for a moment, his brows furrowed in confusion. He quickly stretched out his arm, extending it past Myla so that he could grab the door and open it for her. His feet hastening to catch up to the woman. “Forgive me, but I thought you were blind?”

“Very,” Myla responded and then entered the building.

She could only sense two older gentlemen in the room but no others. No booby traps, soldiers laying in wait or silent alarms signaling her arrival… and no dad. Her heart sank a little, although she knew the chances of finding her father here was slim. But there was some relief knowing that this all wasn’t a trap to take her as well. She partly regretted having her suit and billy club in her bag, but she could never be too cautious.

One of the men approached her, offering her a hand. “Hello Miss—”

“Myla. Myla Murdock.” She took the man’s hand and gave it a friendly shake.

“Ah, Matt’s daughter, I presume? I am Alfred Pennyworth. And this is Phil Coulson.” He motioned to the other gentleman who gave her a similar greeting. “And I see you’ve met Mr. Richards.”

“It’s hard not to know of him if you have a television.” She flashed the tall male a playful smile. “Although I do think I perplex him.” Myla then took a step back towards Will. “I do want to thank you though, for helping look for the missing heroes. I thought I was the only one. My father… You probably know him as Daredevil, he was one of the first to disappear.”

“I remember hearing about that. I am sorry for your father.”

“And I yours… And your mother.” Myla’s lips pulled back in a sympathetic smile. It was an easy topic for either of them. But there was some solace in knowing that she wasn’t alone and that someone else was trying to find them as well.

“You both are welcome to take a seat while to wait to see if any others will join us.”

William motioned his hand toward the sofas in an 'after you’ manner. Myla nodded her head slightly and took a seat. Will followed, helping himself to the same couch but was sure not to sit too close and invade her personal space. “I have to ask…”

Myla chuckled before finishing his question. “How can I see if I’m blind?”

He nodded his head in acknowledgement and quickly realized she couldn’t see that. But before he could audibly agree, she seemed to know he nodded and proceeded to answer. “Well…” Then as they sat their, waiting to see if anyone else arrived, Myla explained her gifts to Will, whom seemed far too excited to learn something new.





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zehara el sayid
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Zehara never was one to call herself a hero. She knew what was in her was a monster and after seeing what her mother was like and what she did, she could never consider herself good. But that wasn’t for the lack of trying. She live the nomad life, flitting from one place to another wherever whispers carried her. For a couple months it had carried her back to her homeland of Algeria.

The hero disappearances were old news and nothing Zehara particularly worried herself about. She wasn’t a hero. And if she did disappear… Well, her captors would have to deal with the Cheetah, not herself. But the missing numbers only seemed to keep growing. She had no intention of involving herself, but when locals from her home showed a particular worry when Monet St. Croix turned up missing, she couldn’t tell them no when they asked for her help.

Her investigations were turning up short and Zehara had no more information two months in than when she did the day she arrived. Even with feline level tracking, it seemed like Monet just vanished. There was no trail, no clues, no blood. Nothing. She spent day after day combing over everything with the hero’s home trying to find anything that could be of use. But again, nothing. No strange sightings, no remnants. Everything look like she just left for the store and never returned.

Zehara had all but given up. She gave a new definition to double checking because double checked her double checks. It was frying her brain and frustrating her. Not to mention her hunger was growing out of control. One night when the rest of the town was asleep, she snuck out to feed on gazelles and the occasional jackal.

Not satisfied, but full, she returned to Monet’s to try and give it one fresh look before delivering the sad news to the locals in the morning. But upon entering her home, Zehara heard a quiet, sad beeping, like a watch that’s batteries were dying. She quickly searched the house, trying to find the source before it went quiet. It lead her to a loose floor board in Monet’s room. Zehara was mad at herself that she hadn’t notice this the first ten times. Cursing under her breath, she lifted the board and found an odd looking pager. The screen was dim, nearly out of juice, but numbers flashed across the screen.

Not wasting anytime, Zehara used her claw and quickly scrawled the numbers into the ground. She managed to get the last number down just before the screen when dark and the pager died. With a sigh, she sat back on the ground, staring at scratches. She was quite sure if she was excited to have any lead… or worried that it could lead her into a trap like the one Monet must have fallen into. One thing was certain, she was relieved to return to the locals with some amount of hope… even if small.

* * *


Zehara had never been a fan of flying. She had only done it once or twice in her life, but this was by far the longest flight she had ever been on. She had heard a lot about America, everyone had. But she had never traveled there before that day. It was a long and stressful flight, but she’d take it all over again rather than the strange looks she got from the white minivan moms as she exited the plane and walked through the airport.

Luckily, no one approached her or tried anything, because while she might not be an overly mean person, her resting face scared away most who might try. She didn’t waste her time on them. Zehara hadn’t heard too many overly wonderful things about Americans and her time there wasn’t to socialize and decide if she wanted to immigrate. She minded her own business, got her taxi and promptly zoned out staring at the scenery as the driver took her to her desired location.

It wasn’t long before she arrived at the tall building, that stood out against the back drop of the ocean and surrounding nature. It was like someone decided to place a sky scraper in the middle of a forest. Zehara couldn’t decide if it was beautiful or obtrusive. But it seemed… vacant. The grass around it was overgrown and weeds had broken their way through the concrete. And aside from a single parked car and a leaving taxi, she would have assumed there wasn’t a soul there.

Zehara didn’t know what to expect as the taxi came to a stop, but there was nothing that churned in her gut or made her hair stand on end. So, she took that as a good sign. She took her bag and paid the driver, before ascending the steps up to the entrance. It wasn’t until she started opening the door that she notice a couple people already inside. Normally, this might have put her on edge or made her defensive, but she felt safe… relatively. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but these people didn’t seem quite so different. Although she didn’t know why.

Feeling the need to explain her presence, she dug the dead pager out of her pocket and held it up. “I was hired to search for Monet St. Croix,” Zehara spoke with a heavy Algerian accent but spoke perfect English. “I found this in her house… The coordinates lead here before it died.” She held it out towards Coulson who was approaching her.

He took the device with a slight smile. “Well, then you are in the right place. Welcome.” Phil motioned his hand for her to be welcome to take a seat.

Zehara gave a slightly awkward smile as she looked around at the others. The one tall brunette male looked vaguely familiar but she couldn’t put her finger on it. So, rather than poke around for names, she decided to take a seat quietly. If she asked questions, then they would ask questions about her. Somehow, someway the Cheetah would be the topic of conversation and she’d no longer be welcome. Instead, she opted for keeping that quiet for as long as possible… At least until she got more information that would help her find Monet.





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jameson blaze
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It’s no secret that the Ghost Rider is always the most revered hero or kept in tight circles. Maybe that’s because James’ dad wasn’t always the most amiable. But James took on the mantle of Ghost Rider, he wasn’t kept in close communication with other hero organizations. He often wondered about the country, going wherever his bike took him. It rarely steered him wrong, taking directly toward whomever the spirit wanted next. It wasn’t particularly a glamorous job like Superman or Iron Man who had international fame. But he did his part… whatever that was worth.

He knew about the heroes that had been disappearing. You couldn’t go anywhere without hearing it, but it hardly affected him. No one he knew was gone, and even if they were what could he do? James had no connections or networks. And most people saw him as more of a plague rather than a hero, regardless of what good he tried to accomplish. So, rather than meddle in business that wasn’t his place, he kept to himself and did what he did best… smiting assholes and dragging their souls to hell.

James was somewhere on the Pacific Coast Highway between Santa Cruz and Los Angeles when he got a phone call. “James?”

Hearing his dad’s voice nearly brought tears to James’ eyes. “Dad? Dad, is that you? It’s so good to hear your voice! I thought with all the disappearances that maybe—”

“I got a message.” His father cut him off, cold and indifferent. It sounded like he was pained to have to speak with James and was merely doing it out of formality and wished to end it as soon as possible. “It’s for the Ghost Rider… Which is you, not me.” He then began to read out coordinates, a date and time. James did his best to write it all down on his arm because he knows his day would only relay that information once and couldn’t care less if James got it down correctly or not.

“Dad—”

“If you go missing, don’t think we’ll come looking for you. You’re already gone to us.” Click. The line went dead.

James sat there on his bike on the shoulder of his bike, lost in bewilderment for the better part of an hour, staring down at the scratchy information on his arm. Part of him wanted to wipe it away and forget he ever heard about it. He didn’t want to give his dad the satisfaction of him going. Or maybe he should go, get captured, disappear… die. Then that’d be one less mess up in the world. He could go straight to hell taking the spirit with him and then he’d no longer be anyone’s burden.

It was a tempting option. But a part of James, the little boy still wanting his dad’s approval, wanted to prove himself. He wanted nothing more than to make his dad proud, which only made him hate himself more. He sighed, running his hands back through his hair before he started up his bike and sped off down the highway.

He pulled over at the first gas station he found. He went inside and grabbed an atlas. For the next hour, James sat on his bike flipping through it page by page until he came to the map of Connecticut, where the coordinates finally lined up. Bridgeport. This city was nearly as far as possible within that damned country, but he had to try… for himself. He made a shitty route plan and then took off, making his way east.

* * *


James lost track of how many hours he hand be riding when he finally reached Bridgeport. He only stopped when eat, or showering at a truck stop was a necessity. Traveling cross country, especially on a motorcycle, was no easy task and was nothing short of exhausting. Somehow he managed to only get two speeding tickets, which is a feat in and of itself. He didn’t know what he expected going into this and often on his ride he asked himself why he was doing this. There was no definite answer. Curiosity… and something in his gut telling him he had to go.

He came barreling down the drive toward the tower going nearly double the recommended speed. Then just before reaching the front of the building, he brought his bike skidding to a halt, nearly missing the bumper of a Tesla that was worth ten of his ride. The engine was barely off and the kick stand down, when James hopped off the seat and hurried towards the doors. He rushed inside, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw several people sitting around in mid conversation.

James swallowed and pulled off his helmet. “Sorry I’m late. I rode non-stop for two days…” He sighed trying to catch his breath as he looked around at the people that filled the room. All looking to be from very different walks of life and even then he felt like he stood out like a sore thumb. He instantly began to regret his decision to answer the call.

The oldest of the men approached him, offering a kind smile and a hand. “That’s quite alright Mister…?”

“Blaze,” he took the mans hand with a weak smile. “Uh, Jameson Blaze.”

“Alfred Pennyworth,” the man responded with a firm shake and motioned towards the chairs for him to take a seat.

“I didn’t realize Johnny had retired,” the other standing man commented.

“Unwillingly,” James responded with a vague answer before going to take a seat in a chair that sat across from a majority of the others that sat in silence. He gave his best, semi-apologetic smile before setting his helmet on the ground, not really keeping prolonged eye contact with anyone.
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el se pone violento por mi culpa, siempre es mi culpa y siempre lo va a ser.

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Day after farmers’ protests, Twitter suspends 300 accounts | India News - Times of India

Day after farmers’ protests, Twitter suspends 300 accounts | India News – Times of India

NEW DELHI: A day after farmers’ protests turned the Capital into an arena of violence, Twitter said it has suspended at least 300 accounts for violating its “platform manipulation and spam” policy in relation to the incidents. In a statement released on Wednesday, the microblogging platform said the accounts were suspended to prevent physical harm. “We have taken strong enforcement action to…


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Day 3 of Sefikura Week. The Prompt is: Puppet

AO3 Link

Based on this post

Summary: It’s hard to tell where Cloud ends…and the real Sephiroth begins. 

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“With a weapon, solitude is shared. One is one’s self and one’s duty. Self and… another character who is invisible but present and who changes name depending on the case. Self and… triumph or death. Alone, one manages. Either one surrenders or one gets away without being bothered since one is unarmed. The enemy pursues not so much the warrior as what makes the warrior: his weapon. It’s not true that one can easily throw away one’s rifle, machine gun, or knife and slip off. If the exchange of charms between the weapon and the warrior has taken place in accordance with the rites, if it was consecrated by combat and the prestige of a chief, bonds are formed between the weapon and the warrior, bonds that it is harder for a man to cut if he is valorous himself, and his valor—I’m so glad—leads him to his death.”

- Jean Genet, Funeral Rites.

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Here’s how rampaging mob unleashed violence at Red Fort

Here’s how rampaging mob unleashed violence at Red Fort

A day after thousands of farmers vandalised Red Fort in the name of protests and hoisted the flag of a particular religion from the ramparts of the historical monument, Zee News Editor-in-Chief Sudhir Chaudhary visited the Red Fort to give an exact ground of the violence and vandalism unleashed by the so-called farmers at Red Fort. Zee News hugely popular show DNA was not done from studio but it…


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“Because I envisage theft, murder, and even betrayal as emanating from a bronzed, muscular, and always naked body that moves in the sun and waves, they transcend this ignominious tone (which was an attraction for me) and find a nobler one, which is more closely related to solar sacrifice.”

- Jean Genet, Funeral Rites.

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No one will be spared: Delhi Police Commissioner

No one will be spared: Delhi Police Commissioner

While the farmer leaders were on the back foot, announcing cancellation of their Budget Day rally plans, the Centre pushed back firmly on Wednesday, with the Delhi police arresting 19 persons and detaining 50 others, while confirming further action against all farm leaders who broke the routes protocol that had been agreed upon for their tractor parade on the Republic Day.
Delhi Police…

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“However, the most heinous crimes are embellished with a bit of light when they are committed by a handsome person who lives in the sun and is bronzed by the sea, and I had to rely on a little physical beauty in order to attain evil.”

- Jean Genet, Funeral Rites.

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किसान मोर्चा ने कल की घटना को बताया केंद्र की साजिश, 1 फरवरी का कार्यक्रम रद्द

किसान मोर्चा ने कल की घटना को बताया केंद्र की साजिश, 1 फरवरी का कार्यक्रम रद्द

नई दिल्ली। किसान मोर्चा ने कल की घटना को सत्ता की साजिश करार दिया है।  उसने कहा है कि पिछले 7 महीनों से चल रहे शांतिपूर्ण आंदोलन को बदनाम करने की साजिश अब जनता के सामने उजागर हो चुकी है। कुछ व्यक्तियों और संगठनों (मुख्य तौर पर दीप सिद्धू और सतनाम सिंह पन्नू की अगुवाई में किसान मजदूर संघर्ष कमेटी) के सहारे, सरकार ने इस आंदोलन को हिंसक बनाया। मोर्चे का कहना है कि लाल किले और दिल्ली के अन्य हिस्सों…


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‘Farmer leaders betrayed us’: Delhi Police chief on R-Day violence; lauds restraint showed by personnel

‘Farmer leaders betrayed us’: Delhi Police chief on R-Day violence; lauds restraint showed by personnel

The Delhi Commissioner also informed the press that as many as 394 police personnel were injured during the clashes while 30 police vehicles were damaged, adding that the police showed extreme restraint in handling the situation

Delhi Police Commissioner briefing the media about R-Day violence on Wednesday. ANI

Blaming the leaders of the farmers’ movement for Tuesday’s violence, Delhi Police…


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farmers protest tractor rally violence delhi police press conference we not spare any culprit ngmp | हिंसा पर दिल्ली पुलिस की प्रेस कॉन्फ्रेंसः कमिश्नर बोले

farmers protest tractor rally violence delhi police press conference we not spare any culprit ngmp | हिंसा पर दिल्ली पुलिस की प्रेस कॉन्फ्रेंसः कमिश्नर बोले

नई दिल्लीः मंगलवार को गणतंत्र दिवस के मौके पर किसान आंदोलन के दौरान हुई हिंसा को लेकर दिल्ली पुलिस ने आज प्रेस कॉन्फ्रेंस की. इस पीसी के दौरान पुलिस ने बताया कि लाल किले पर हुई घटना और हिंसा की जांच की जा रही है और दोषियों की पहचान कर उनके खिलाफ सख्त कार्रवाई की जाएगी.
दिल्ली पुलिस के कमिश्नर एसएन श्रीवास्तव ने प्रेस कॉन्फ्रेंस को संबोधित किया. इस दौरान उन्होंने बताया कि पुलिस द्वारा किसान नेताओं…

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Fissures among farmers in the aftermath of R-Day violence

Fissures among farmers in the aftermath of R-Day violence

Following the Republic Day violence, two farmers’ unions dissociated from the ongoing protests while the rest, organised under the Samyukta Kisan Morcha (SKM), said there was a “conspiracy” to defame a two-month-long peaceful peasant movement by the Centre, anti-social elements and groups that had associated with the struggle. The SKM has called off its Budget Day march to Parliament on February…

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‘अगर कृषि कानून पर किसान नेता हमारे साथ समझौता कर लें, पर आंदोलनकारी उनकी बात न मानें?’

‘अगर कृषि कानून पर किसान नेता हमारे साथ समझौता कर लें, पर आंदोलनकारी उनकी बात न मानें?’

कृषि कानूनों के खिलाफ गणतंत्र दिवस पर उग्र हुए प्रदर्शनों का किसान संगठनों पर उल्टा असर पड़ सकता है। जबकि केंद्र सरकार अब इस मुद्दे को उठाकर संसद में अपना बचाव करने की तैयारी में है। माना जा रहा है कि लाल किले और दिल्ली के अहम इलाकों में हुए हिंसक प्रदर्शन के बाद केंद्र आंदोलन में शामिल उग्रवादियों के मुद्दे को भी भुनाएगा।
एक सरकारी सूत्र ने बताया- “हमारी रणनीति आगे जरूर बदलेगी। कोई भी बल प्रयोग…


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man who flur flag on lal quila identified tarantaran resident ngmp

man who flur flag on lal quila identified tarantaran resident ngmp

Farmers protest

जुगराज के परिवार में उसकी मां, पिता, दादा-दादी के अलावा एक बहन है. जुगराज की दो बहनों की शादी हो चुकी है. परिजनों का कहना है उनके पास दो एकड़ जमीन है

जुगराज के परिजन.

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