#BECOMING ? THE ACCUMULATION OF EVERYTHING THEY AS A TEAM HAVE STOOD FOR ? FOUGHT FOR ?

[chieftn]

important side note    :    two  new  alphas   could     ...    have me   ?

[questionsonislam]

What are the negative effects of computer games and the internet on children? How can we eliminate these effects? Can you evaluate the issue in terms of the hereafter of the child?

What are the negative effects of computer games and the internet on children? How can we eliminate these effects? Can you evaluate the issue in terms of the hereafter of the child?

"He suddenly stood up and started to shout. He reacted too strongly because he could not kill the man who shot at him. He tried again. He sat down and stood up repeatedly, and tried to kill the person against him. He harmed his opponent seriously. When his opponent fell down drenched in blood, he burst into laughter. The incidents continued. He fought to death and did his best to harm his enemies. He did not stop playing though his mother called him several times. He was so engaged in the game that he was thinking of nothing but the game."

Similar incidents often occur in homes and internet cafes nowadays. Children and young people spend most of their time playing games on the computer. Parents allow computers because they think,''It is necessary to keep up with peers, innovations and technology; it will help my child in his/her studies.'' However, children generally use the computer to play games. Using the computer may start with a good intention but it deviates from the purpose in the course of time. 'Using computers without control", which is the common complaint of parents, is a very difficult problem to solve even for specialists.

How do computer games affect the subconscious of children and their lives in the future? Can games that could affect children positively be presented in a healthy way on the computer?

Computer games can be dealt with in two categories. Firstly, games that can be a means of developing skills, understanding life and inculcating moral values;secondly, games that do not enrich imagination, do not contribute to the world of thought, and that encourage violence and immorality.

The positive effect of games on the mental, bodily and spiritual development of the child depends on the content of the game and the amount of time spent playing games. This amount of time must not be very much or very little. It is possible to establish a balance regarding the issue by educating the child about using time efficiently. Children who spend their time doing unnecessary things can do the same thing when they grow up. To sum up, it is necessary to teach the child the importance of time one way or another.

Time spent unnecessarily in front of a computer screen causes children and young people to be inactivated. This increases stress in children. This inactivity causes accumulation of energy in especially active children and affects their behavior negatively. Discharging the energy from the body through sportive activities is helpful in terms of growth, development and learning to share. Exercise also helps to release growth hormone. Besides, time spent in front of a computer screen deprives children and young people of taking part in cultural activities like useful games, studying, sports, etc.

Most parents complain that their children cannot express themselves well and that they cannot communicate clearly with others. When you ask your child a question, you get either a very short or a predictable answer. Time spent playing computer games has an important effect on it. We see that violence in computer games is increasing day by day. Game industry regards everything permissible in order to attract children. Images and videos that are not suitable for their age cause the subconscious of the children to be shaped. Anxiety, fear, inclination to violence, sudden outbursts and regarding violence ordinary occur in children who are exposed to videos and images containing violence for a long time. The reactions of the children who watch violent films and play violent games change in time; they use more violence against their friends and the people around. They push and kick people when a slight disagreement occurs. Anxiety and sleeping disorders occur in children who are affected by harmful videos and images; their personal is affected negatively.

The anomalies mentioned above are seen more frequently in preschool children since the causes and effects of the behavior involving five senses are not questioned by them. The following incidents can be given as examples regarding the issue: "A 3,5-year old child who used to watch violent films practiced what he saw on TV and stabbed his brother to death. A child who thought he was a cartoon film hero jumped off the seventh floor with the intention of flying. In France, a child who could not be successful in computer games developed epilepsy." Unfortunately, we often hear about similar incidents. We need to provide our children with useful alternative games in order to fill the subconscious of our children with positive qualities like goodness, doing favors, compassion, charity and altruism.

Harmful games prevent children from learning their national culture hence causing cultural erosion. In those games, cultural values of foreign nations are often used; symbols of different faiths are placed in the subconscious of children and our children are affected by them without noticing them. Through these games, Islam is presented like a boogeyman and Muslims are shown like terrorists and targets to be hit.

The children who became computer game addicts are alienated from their environment. These children, who have difficulty in finding friends, become prisoners of computers and are isolated from the community. From then on, the only friend of the child is the computer; even if the child spends some time with his friends, he cannot get rid of the feeling of loneliness. Parents need to provide their children with activities appropriate for their development and to balance the time spent for computer games.

The bad characters shown in many computer games play a negative role in the formation of the child's personality . The messages given in these kinds of games like trying to be strong and powerful, ignoring lives of others, killing in order to live, despising moral values, ignoring feelings of others, not appreciating the people around and categorizing people affect the personality of the child negatively.

Games affect attention and learning too. The images changing frequently on the computer screen cause the child to be distracted, triggering lack of concentration. Besides, too much light might cause epileptic seizures in children.

In conclusion, computer games cause children to tend to regard everything in life as a game, to daydream all the time, to be mentally busy with the theme of the game even after the game, to convey this theme to the games with his friends and to his attitudes, and to reduce his family relationships and the time he spends with his family.

It is not possible to ignore the benefits of computers, which is a reality of this age. What is ideal is to benefit from the positive aspects of computers and to be protected from its negative effects. It is necessary to establish a balance between the time allocated for real games for the child's development and for virtual games. Games

- in which children can take part actively,

- that pedagogues and counselors recommend

- that enable the child to develop a consciousness of history and adopt his own cultural values,

- that support attention and development of reasoning,

- that enables the child to develop qualities like sharing, team spirit, charity, altruism, honesty and diligence,

- that arouse curiosity, facilitate learning and enable a child to love learning,

- that are possible to play with the parents,

- that enables the child to obtain the consciousness of duty and responsibility,

- that develop the ability to imagine, think and invent

need to be preferred.

When the organs like the eyes, ears, etc, which are among the important bounties given to man by the Creator, are kept busy only for entertainment in front of the computer screen, it means they are be used contrary to their purpose of creation. Therefore, the vital responsibility of the parents is to ensure that their children use their faculties like seeing, hearing, feeling and reasoning properly and positively.

[crewhonk]

Cookie Dough

AN: this is hot. I haven’t written anything in a while and @nomadsgrogers and I’d text messages have been... sinful at best. THIS WAS REQUESTED!

Warnings: filthy fuckin smut. Brief mentions of ptsd,

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN! IM NOT GONNA GET IN TROUBLE FOR DISTRIBUTING P*RN TO MINORS

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You hadn’t remembered why you had shot up out of bed, covered in a thin sheen of sweat which glowed in the moonlight that shone through the open curtains of your bay window. You hadn’t remembered why your fingers itched or your bones seemed to be wound too tight. You did know, however, that you needed to get away from the damp sheets which clung to your skin too tightly and the grey walls of your room which were surely moving to close in on you.

Your steps down the hallway of the Avengers compound were uneven at best, your vision seemed dark around its edges and your fingertips grazed the walls by means to steady yourself on your way to the light at the end of the hallway. The kitchen and living quarters opened up in front of you shortly, the couches and counters set against a backdrop of the glowing New York skyline. You blinked once, sucking in a deep breath of fresh air and squeezing your eyes shut to blink away the oil on your lids and the tears which had gathered in the corner of your eyes.

You rarely had nightmares of the Red Room anymore— the old Victorian architecture and soft sounds of piano keys seeming far away, but tonight, on the anniversary of her Great Escape the memories seemed so close— so loud. The gunshots and screams and the metal of the handcuffs against the metal of your bed frame echoed too loudly in your ears. There must be some way— some way for you to block everything out, some way for you to make the horrors of That night just a little further away.

So, you found yourself in the kitchen hips swaying in time with the spoon which mixed the cookie dough in the glass bowl you had curled in your arms. Your eyes were closed, whisper-singing the words of Beyonce’s new homecoming album under your breath. The bass and drum lines ringing in your eardrums made the reality of today's meaning seem far away. Your knees and hips and neck were loose under the beat of your favorite song, and you had been so lost in the music that you hadn’t heard the whirring of one metal arm and the thumping of two socked feet.

Bucky Barnes had also been woken up from a nightmare. One which had shaken him to his core— two familiar colored eyes blurred in the background of a gun barrel. It had been the night you had escaped from the Red Room actually. You had taken the commotion of the Winter Soldiers arrival at the Red Room and had worked with the situation, taking out most of the HYDRA soldiers and even a few of your own instructors— the harsh women who had raised you to be quick and efficient and lethal.

Their fault they found themselves an early grave, Bucky guessed.

He and you had fought in the front foyer, and the Soldier could see your desperation to escape in the sloppiness of your movements. The Soldier had pulled his punches and had faced the repercussions of that the next morning, but seeing you now with your hair loose and messy and hips rolling to the beat of whatever music you were playing made every lash and smack worth it.

Steve and Sam teased him almost every day about how you treated each other. Before you had arrived, both Steve and Sam were sure Natasha would eat Bucky alive, but you rolled into the tower with a white blouse and tight black jeans and a red-lipped smile and everything changed. Natasha had finally ended up making a move on both Sam and Steve, while you and Bucky found each other in the competition on the sparring mat. You teased him relentlessly about beating him That Night, and after explaining that he had pulled his punches, ended up caging you under him, thick thighs straddling your waist and fists on the floor inches away from your temple. You had, of course, been breathless under him and just as he was about to let you up, you ground your hips against his, and after a breathless moan from him, had flipped him over and pinned him.

And that had just been the first time you had sparred.

It had been a year since then. A year of teasing and absent-minded touches and sitting too close and watching each others back on missions. You were both a precise, deadly machine alone, but when there was the added factor of danger, you and Bucky would become an unstoppable team— one that even Natasha was nervous around.

You had turned around to the island he was sitting at and finally opened your eyes to start rolling balls of dough when you saw him sitting there, one brow raised and an amused smirk on his lips.

“О, Боже, Джеймс! Какого черта ты делаешь?” [Oh, Jesus Christ, James! What the fuck are you doing?]. You cursed, catching the bowl just before it hit the tiled floor and standing back up the glare at him. “How long have you been there?” You asked, a blush rising to your cheeks at the thought of him watching you unabashedly get down to the music blasting from your earphones.

“Long enough, Приятная вещь. It was nice to see you look so—“ Sexy. Powerful. Beautiful. “Relaxed.” You just rolled your eyes and tried to fight the sudden heat that crept up from your neck to the tips of your ears. He watched it creep up your skin and let his tongue glide across his lower lip. You tried your best to swallow the whimper that threatened to erupt from your throat, quelling it down enough to be able to cover it up with a cough. You were usually above a whimper— but the sight of him in front of you, added with the vulnerability of that day meaning and the accumulation of the past few months worth of sexual tension reduced you to a whimpering mess as the mere sight of Bucky Barnes tongue.

“What’re you making?” He asked, his voice a low timbre from a combination of the thick tension in the air and sleep. It seemed to rumble in your chest and your eyelids fluttered as you tried to process the words coming from his mouth.

“I— um. Cookies. Extra chocolate chips.” You replied, shaking your head minusculely, trying to clear your head of the sudden fog which had fallen over your brain.

“My favorite, but you knew that I think.” He smiled, resting his chin on his metal fist watching your hands dig into the dough and roll it into misshapen balls. His mouth watered as he watched your fingers and tendons in your hands flex and relax under your movements.

“I did.” Your lips pulled into a mischievous smile before you spoke the next words. “I also know they’re Sam’s favorite as well.” A giggle erupted from your throat as you heard Bucky groan at your words.

“But, I didn’t make them for him.” You whispered, breath catching in your throat as his sharp gaze flicked up to you. You rushed your next words, not willing to give him the whole worm before you let him have it. “I made them for me.” He smiled at you, noticing the playful glint in your eyes.

“Wanna try some?” You asked, voice quiet and nervous as if you were asking him to do something far worse to you. He flushed but stood— the soft fabric of his sweatpants doing nothing to hide the fact that he was already half hard. You pretended not to notice as he came to stand beside you leaning his hip against the marble counter and crossing his arms.

Okay, this is how this was going to go down, huh.

You steeled your shaking hands and pinched a small ball of dough between your thumb and forefinger and holding it out for him to take. Instead of taking the dough into his own hand, his flesh hand wrapped itself around your wrist and brought your hand to his lips. You sucked in a breath and could actually feel your pupils dilating as his pink lips wrapped themselves around your fingers, his tongue circling your fingers and hollowing out his cheeks just enough to make your heart stop dead in your chest. He pulled off of your fingers with a wet pop and a smirk at your stunned expression.

“Tastes great, Darling.” He mumbled, his eyes flicking between your eyes and lips which were parted both in shock and in sudden need of oxygen. His fingers which were wrapped around your wrist moved so his fingers could intertwine with your own, smirking when he felt that your fingers were still damp. His metal hand moved to dip on finger in the dough, and steeling his nerves, raised the finger to your lips, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of your lips closing around his digit, your eyes fluttering shut, and letting out a tiny moan which he could feel vibrate through the vibranium of his arm. Once you had sucked all the dough off his finger, your eyes fluttered up and you looked up at Bucky’s wrecked expression through your lashes.

“It’s really not bad, hey— mmph!” You tried to say before Bucky crashed his lips to yours, a hungry, growling assault that had your knees weak in three seconds flat. His lips were slightly dry, but warm and they fit themselves to yours almost too easily. His metal hand cradled your cheek gently, a touch which contrasted so greatly with the roughness of his lips on your own and the tight grip he had on your hand. Your chest was pressed against his own, and you could feel the hammering of his heart against yours, making you mewl and open your mouth against his. He took the opportunity to lick into your mouth, moaning at the taste of cookie dough and coffee and toothpaste. He stepped forward, not breaking the kiss and pressing you hard against the counter, making you gasp. You could feel his hardness against your stomach and you squeaked when he unwrapped his hands from you and picked you up, planting you firmly on the counter before using one hand to pull you back to him, your hot core pressing right against him, making you both cry out.

“God, Doll. Been waitin’ to have you putty in my hands since the first time I saw you.” He grumbled, pulling away to allow you to catch your breath as he continued to plant kisses over your jaw and neck, biting down and pulling the collar of your sleep shirt to the side to leave a dark, fat bruise on your shoulder.

You sighed and wrapped your fist in his hair, not pulling him anywhere but holding him and scratching his scalp light enough to make him moan against your neck. Your legs wrapped around his and you dug your heels into the back of his thighs— closer. You needed to be closer.

“Baby.” You whimpered, your free hand drifting under his shirt and just above the waistband of his sweat, scratching his skin and making him bite your neck in surprise, trying to repress his moans to a part somewhere deep in his chest. When you noticed him trying to be quiet, you tightened the fist in your hair and pulled him off you.

His gaze was dark, and his lips were beautifully swollen and moist and pouting. You pulled him to kiss you once more before backing away and narrowing your eyes slightly.

“Wanna hear you, Baby. Wanna know what’s good for you, okay?” You whispered, scratching the back of his neck lightly, making his eyelids flutter slightly. He just nodded, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer before crashing his lips to yours.

“Need you.” You whispered against his lips, and you heard his breath catch in his throat. You smirked, making your way to his neck and planting teasing, fluttering kisses to his pulse point and the spot just below his ear, making a small whine tear up his throat. You could almost hear his heartbeat increase as your fingertips dusted just below his waistband and drawing circles in the pubic hair on his lower belly. Your hand soon found itself on the spot just above his cock before you pulled away from his neck and looking at his wrecked, breathless expression.

“No underwear, Baby?” You whispered, looking into his eyes when your hand circled itself around the base of his cock. He made a sound and dropped his head to your shoulder and buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in and trying to not come on the spot.

“Answer me, Honey.” You hummed, fingertips teasing the underside of him before drifting over the head, collecting the pre-cum and using it as further lubrication to start moving your fist slowly up and down his length.

“I usually— fuck, Doll. Jus’ like that Sweetheart. Usually, sleep naked.” His voice was husky and muffled but he skin of your neck and every organ in your chest and stomach fluttered at the thought of him just down the hall, naked every night for the past year.

“Bucky.” You whimpered, gripping him slightly tighter and moving quicker, making him whine and thrust his own hips in time with your hand. Your hips shifted against the counter underneath you, trying to find some form of friction which was so pleasantly rewarded when Bucky slipped his hand under your shorts and pressing one finger on your clit through the soft cotton of your underwear.

“Wet.” He mumbled, hips still thrusting lazily against your motions. He cleared his throat. “Wet for me, huh, Doll?” He said a little more strength behind his voice.

“Yeah, Buck.” You whimpered, gasping as his own fingers pushed your underwear to the side, teasing your folds before slipping two fingers all the way in, curling them upwards and pressing his thumb against your clit, making you see stars. It was only a few seconds of him moving inside of you, your own hand losing rhythm until the shocks of his movements made you see flickers of stars behind your closed eyes.

“Eyes open, darling.” His voice was a low baritone, and you opened your eyes to see his own inches from your own. You whined, a noise coming from somewhere in the back of your throat as your thighs started to shake around his hips.

“You wanna come for me, Sweet Thing?” He mumbled, the tip of his nose tracing over the bridge of your own. You nodded, biting your lips hard enough for the skin to turn white, and he took his other hand and pulled the lips from between your teeth. “Answer me, Honey.” He smirked, copying the words you had said to him not five minutes ago.

“Yes please,” you whined, leaning forward and grazing your teeth over his throat. You felt his moan tear through him and nipped at the skin over his Adam's apple. “Please, Bucky.”

“Not yet, Honey.” He replied, regretfully pulling his fingers from your core and you wanted to cry at the loss of him. Your fist was still wrapped around the base of his cock, your movements long stopped in the blackness of your own pleasure. He lifted his fingers to his mouth, sucking them both dry and pulling them away from his mouth with a pop.

“Tastes fucking perfect, Darling.” He moaned, kissing you again and making sure that you could taste yourself on his lips.

Instead of pulling away from you, he pulled your shorts and underwear down and dropped them on the floor, your baggy sleep shirt doing enough to cover your ass and pulled himself over the waistband of his pants and brushing the tip over your slick.

“Do we need anything, Doll?” He asked, his voice strained as he tried to fight just a little bit of the fog that lay over his brain. You winced, legs closing slightly.

“No.” Your voice was dark, yet another reminder of what today was for you. He blinked rapidly, and let a regretful expression fall over his face.

“Doll, I’m sorry—“

“It’s okay,” You mumbled, pulling him by the back of his neck to crash his lips to yours. He squeaked and pulled away quickly, hands coming to caress your face and wiping the dry skin under your eyes.

“No, It’s not. I’m sorry, Love.” He whispered. The sincerity in his eyes made your heart swell and your eyes flood with tears. Instead of letting him see your grief, you let your head fall into his shoulder and snuck your hands under his shirt, scratching your nails over his hips and waist.

“It’s okay, I promise.” You whispered, kissing his shoulder and shifting against him. The purple head of his cock brushed against your clit and you both jumped and moaned, almost forgetting how close he was to you.

“Are you sure, Doll?” He asked, his voice low in your ear as he kissed the bruise he had left on the muscle of your shoulder.

“Please, James. Need you.” And with that affirmation, he pushed all the way in, making you both gasp loudly. You arched your back and pressed closer to him, your legs widening to a near split, and then wrapping themselves around his waist. You dug your heels into his ass to pull him closer and he hissed as the soft skin of his balls rested on the cold marble.

“Move, Buck. Baby, please.” You whined, needing him to move or do something other than catch his breath. He started slowly— shallow thrusts as you stretched around him and he got used to the feeling of your silky, fluttering walls.

“Heaven.” He mumbled, his voice seemed far away as the curve of his cock completely stole the breath from your lungs. You sat back on your hands, throwing your head back and moaning, feeling every vein and ridge as his thrusts became longer. His hand played with the hem of your shirt before pushing it over your tits, leaning forward and sucking one nipple into his mouth while playing with the other, rolling the bud between two of his cold, vibranium fingers. You moaned again at the sensation and his flesh hand came to clasp itself over your mouth.

“Don’ want everyone to hear what we’re doin’ here, huh?” He grunted, thrusting harder into you, his pelvic bone brushing your clit and making a high pitched whine erupt from your lips, muffled by his hand. You pull his hand away from your mouth and lean forward, kissing him roughly and once more grasping his hair in your fist.

“Would that really be so bad, Sarge?” His thrusts stop at your words, and before you can second guess yourself, he’s pulled completely out of you, manhandled you and pressed your chest and face against the counter.

“Wanna play dirty, huh Kitten?” He grunted, slipping easily between your thighs and hitting even deeper than he had before. His vibranium hand was pressed against the space between your shoulders and his flesh hand gripped the fat on your hips, pulling you to meet every thrust and making you cry out against the countertop, your breath making foggy condensation marks against the surface.

“Harder Sarge, please.” You almost cry, hand scrambling to find purchase on anything. One of them finds the sink tap and you circle your hand around it, knuckles going white as he fucks even harder into you. He leaned forward, then, and you felt all consumed by Bucky Barnes— a feeling you would never be tired of. He started to bite the skin of your shoulder blades, soothing the red marks he left with the flat of his tongue as his hand lets go of its bruising grip of your hips and circling around your front to circle and pinch your clit.

“Fuck, Doll. ‘M close. Where are you.” He growled against your skin, rubbing his fingers harder and making your mouth open in a silent, drawn-out moan.

“‘M gonna cum, Sarge. Can I cum, please.” You half-cry half-beg and he swears you’re sent to him from heaven by God themselves.

“Cum for me, Kitten. Let everyone here know how good ‘m fuckin’ you, huh?” He grunts, pressing you hard enough into the counter that you feel your back crack as you tighten impossibly around him. Your thighs shake as your orgasm rolls through you, making your eyes roll into the back of your head and letting out a moan that comes from somewhere deep in your chest. Bucky feels his own eyes shut, balls tightening before spilling into you, warming you up from the inside and triggering a second, fainter orgasm ripple through your body.

He collapses on top of you, catching his breath against the fabric of your shirt that clings to you slightly due to sweat. His post-orgasm haze is interrupted by the feeling and sound of your giggling under him and he groans, chuckling into your back.

“I hope that perfect sound isn’t because of me.” He grumbled playfully, not opening his eyes.

“I broke the sink.” You laughed, and he opened his eyes, seeing the tap of the sink completely disconnected from its place. He joins you, laughing against the back of your neck and kissing it lightly. You opened your eyes again, sight landing on the bowl of raw cookie dough and groaning.

“I don’t wanna finish the cookies.” He chuckled, pulling himself out of you and pulling his pants back up. He picked up your shorts and underwear before putting the bowl in the fridge and scooping you into his arms. You squeak at the sudden action and cling desperately to him, afraid he would drop you. He kissed your temple, nosing it slightly and shushing you when you tried to wiggle free to wipe down the counter.

“Don’t worry, baby girl. We’ll take care fo it in the morning, okay. Right now I wanna see you curled up in my bed, okay?” He mumbled, his voice rumbling through his chest and making your heart swell with appreciation.

“M’kay, Sarge.”

“You’re gonna kill me, Kitten I swear.”

[nygmobblepot-trash]

Untitled

Part 1 out of ?

I wanted to write a fanfic that takes place after Endgame that deals with Dr. Strange, Peter Parker, and Thor. Someone else too, but they will show up later. They never got closure after the hell they went through. The movies and tv shows don’t come out for a while and i have had this idea for a while now. 

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Stephen Strange laid on the cold wood floor of the New York Sanctum. Outside he could hear the busy traffic and people living their lives. The commotion used to be welcomed, now it was a reminder that they had won. Now it was a constant reminder of danger growing every day. He had used the time stone months ago to see how Thanos could be beaten. The only foreseeable outcome involved messing with time. Countless times he has been warned not to mess with time, yet he never listened. What else could he have done? Allow half the universe to vanish? Would he let Thanos win if he saw what winning really meant? Strange didn’t know. He wanted to stop thinking about it. He wanted the questions to stop more than anything. One by one the Avengers had come by with their questions and one by one he could see that they blamed him for their fallen. No one had actually blamed him out loud, but he could see it in their eyes. If only he had looked farther in time or used the time stone sooner to see the incoming threat. If only they knew sooner Thanos may have not even won in the first place. Now he had no time stone and no idea how to fix the mess he made.

At first Stephen couldn’t stand any type of quiet. After the snap that was all that there was in the soul stone. Absolute nothingness and never knowing if he would ever be freed. Now quietness is all he wanted. He wanted the natural disasters to stop and he wanted to get Loki as far as possible from the space stone. The theory is that the two are connected. Fix the changes made and things should go back to normal. If he could get Loki away from the space stone maybe just maybe he can fix that time line thus fixing his. It was only a theory of course and it was possible he could make things worse, much worse.

The overwhelming nature of the situation made Stephen take solace on the floor of the sanctum while trying his best to ignore the outside world. The door had not been opened for anyone for months. The windows had all be blocked off. Dust was accumulating on everything, except his spot on the floor boards where he spent most of his days at nights. He does not know how long it has been since he has closed himself from the outside world, but he does not care. He just needs to rest for a little while longer then he will figure it out like he always has.

Arguing from outside brought Strange’s attention to the living world. He should really find some ear plugs.

He watched as the handle tried to turn slowly and carefully. He heard more arguing and then the handle jiggled harder. Strange tried to closed his eyes and go to sleep. The door had a spell and there was no possibility of intruders. 

At least he thought there wasn’t until he watched from the top of the stairs the door get off its hinges and land at the bottom of the stairs.

“THOR! What are you doing?! I told you that I could come back later. He’s probably busy and does not want to talk to me,” a panicked voice yelled.

Strange watched as Thor walked his way into the Sanctum followed by a terrified Peter Parker. “Nonsense Young One. If you wish to talk to the wizard you shall.”

Strange quietly groaned and put his hands over his face praying that they would leave.

“It’s dark in here. He isn’t here. Thank you Thor, but I am going to leave.” Peter turned to leave, but Thor simply smiled and held the Spider-ling by his shoulders. Thor then pointed to the top of the stairs where Strange laid. 

“Wh- Why is he laying on the floor like that? Is he okay?” Peter whispered to Thor. “Why is there no lights in here?”

“Go ask him while I fix this door. If he does not respond simply kick him.” Thor turned to the door to “fix it”.

“That will be quite unnecessary” Stephen muttered pushing himself off the floor. “I was only napping, Peter. I was up all night doing research.” Strange lied as he met the two men at the bottom of the stairs. Well half it was a lie to be fair.

“I am sorry to wake you. I tried to tell Thor not to break down your door. Oh is there a light switch somewhere?” Peter looked for a switch in the almost dark Sanctum.

Stephen paid no attention to Peter. Instead he focused on Thor trying to fix his door. Fixing in this case meant setting it carefully against the wall so it doesn’t fall through the hole. “What?” Strange quickly turned to Peter realizing he was talking to him. “Lights. Of course” Strange answered himself and snapped his fingers. All at once the lights flickered on, the door was placed back on its hinges, correctly, and all three were sat upstairs. Thor and Peter sat together on a gray couch while Stephen sat across from them.

“Do not start doing that again.” Thor warned.

“You were the ones who barged in here. Now can you please tell me what was so important that you had to disrupt my peace?” Strange shot back. He was in no mood to deal with the Odinson. He had not seen Thor since the funeral no words had been exchanged between them. After that he ran off into space. Stephen hoped it was because Thor had not business with him, but apparently that is not the case. Strange then laid his eyes on Peter who had not stopped fidgeting the whole time.

Thor put his hand on the boy’s shoulder once again. “I am going to looking around this sad place while you talk to him.” Thor then met eyes with Stephen. “I know he will answer every single on of your questions.” Stephen almost laughed. Was that a threat? Of course it was. Add pissing off the God of Thunder to the very long list of fuck ups.

Stephen watched as Thor left them alone to undoubtedly mess with the way he had left the Sanctum.

Peter. He had been dreading this day. He hoped it never came, but here they where. Maybe he isn’t here to talk about what happened. Maybe he just needs help. Fury did call him a while ago. That has to be it. Fury wants a team and desperately needs him to join. No Thor said he had questions. Of course he wants to talk about what happened.

‘Tell him you are busy. He obviously doesn’t want to be here. You can deal with Thor too.’ Stephen’s inner voice pleaded.

Peter suddenly stood up. “I-I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this.”

‘You’re right. Leave.’

Strange watched as Peter started to make his escape.

“Peter... come back here. We need to talk, please come back and sit down.” Strange commanded. 

Peter slowly made his way back to his seat. Strange sighed and rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. I am not feeling myself currently. Please tell me what you have come here to say.”

“Well, its about what you said to... Mr. Stark after you used the time stone to figure out how to win.”

‘Just yell at me already.’

“Go ahead Peter.” Strange faked an encouraging smile.

He asked you how many outcomes there were for everyone living. You said there was one. Did I do something wrong? Mr. Stark and the others should still be here. Is it because I couldn’t get the glove off?”

‘He blames himself. Good you should keep it that way.’ Strange shook his head in hope the voice would stop.

“No Peter. Stark asked me how many we won.” Stephen admitted against his own wishes.

“But that’s the same thing! Why would winning mean Natasha and Tony dying! If that’s winning what is losing?” Peter yelled tears streaming down his face. “Was this the outcome you were trying to get to happen?”

“Peter unfortunately this was the best one. Sacrifices had to be made. I never made them do anything, Peter. I am truly sorry.”

“You never got along with him. How do we know that you...” Peter trailed off not wanting to finish the accusation.

“Go ahead. I want you to say it.”

'Say what they are all thinking.'

“You told him this is the only way when in reality this is the one that benefited you. It’s your fault. He thought there was no other way, because you lied!” Strange could see the hatred burning in his eyes. He could also see his own reflection in the boy’s eyes. He looked pathetic and not like himself at all. He deserved this.

“I did not do it to burn Stark. You’re right though. I lead him to his death. I knew if I told him he would chose not to leave his family behind. It was two people or the entire universe. It was not fair for me to be the decision maker Peter, but I didn’t know what else to do. I still don’t know what to do. The Chosen One was wrong about me.” Strange bent over and out his head in his hands.

‘It’s your fault. It should have been you. They had a family. What do you have? Nothing.’

He heard Peter’s shallow breaths become more calm as he sat down next to Strange. “Listen, i’m sorry. I don’t really think you did what you did to hurt him or Nat. I fought someone a while ago. He was my friend, I trusted him. He lied to me and tried to kill me and my friends all because he was angry with Mr. Stark. I trusted you. No I still do. I’m just afraid to get hurt again. I had to make sure you weren’t lying to me.”

“Lies may not escape his lips, but he does keep the full truth to himself. Isn’t that right, Strange?” Thor said while rejoining them.

“What am I keeping from you?” Strange sighed tired of Thor’s game.

“Loki.”

“What are you talking about? You watched him die with your own eyes!” Strange yelled getting throwing his hands in the air.

Peter whipped his tears away. He promised to help look after Thor after Bruce had explained to Peter that Thor had lost mostly everyone. “Thor, he’s gone.”

Thor crossed his arms. “Scott told me what happened.” He said simply.

Damn it Lang. Stephen told him that under no circumstances he could tell Thor about Loki.

“It’s clear that you are lost. You desperately need help, but you won’t ask for it because your ego will not allow it. I will not allow you sit here and feel bad for yourself.”

“Thor what are you talking about?” Peter asked clearly confused.

“Stark and the others accidentally created a universe where Loki escapes with the Tesseract after the battle of New York. I may need help Thor, but you are not the one to give me that help. I thank both of you for the talk, but I have had enought for tod-” Before strange could finish Thor grabbed his arms.

Thor leaned in close to Strange, his voice shaking with anger, “I told you, you were not going to do that anymore. I am not going anywhere. You are not the only one who feels guilty, but unlike you I am trying to do something about it. He promised me the sun would shine on us again. It will Strange.”

‘He’s right.’ 

“Alright, you win. Do not blame me when this does not go the way you want it to. Now if you please you can let go of me now."

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

Thank you for reading and I hope it wasn’t too terrible!

[abysskeeper]

Otpop trick reacting to him wearing the electrocution belt

Sometimes secret pasts collide when you and your definitely-more-than-friends-but-certainly-not-lovers partner go deal with a planet being eaten. SOR AU, or SOR AU adjacent.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

@trafuris

“Clever, Little Thief.”

Her hand shook, causing a slight tremor in her lightsaber as the possessed Jedi master fell to the ground. She felt more than saw Vitiate’s presence leave the three people she had just fought as they took their dying breathes. It was a momentary reprieve from his overwhelming presence on Ziost, but she couldn’t afford taking a full breath away from his suffocating aura. The feeling of lives being lost wasn’t much better than the feeling of him smothering their existence, it was simply a different kind of pain.

“He’s gone…” the Jedi at her feet mumbled, “I can…I can finally…”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she felt the last of his life fading. There was no time to mourn for him though, she could already feel Vitiate returning, more pawns he was stifling that she could just faintly feel screaming from under him. “May you rest well with the Force.”

The moment that morning when Theron called her requesting help in Imperial space, Trick had an inkling her day was suddenly about to get a whole lot worse. What Theron had rushed to explain wasn’t promising, civilians and slaves being fired upon for no reason, an entire SIS team gone dark, and the potential for this being the Emperor’s next move. The abrupt end to the call with nothing but echoing blaster fire in the background was only further confirmation of the hell she was about to enter into. Her head was already swimming when she shifted her ship into hyperdrive to get to Ziost, planning out a list of priorities and strategies for her to address the moment she set foot on the planet.

The instant she stepped foot on Ziost’s orbital station however, none of it mattered. Nothing could have prepared her for the utter sense of wrongness, the increasing emptiness, that the planet was emanating, and any plan she had made was immediately tossed to the wayside. She had been in a lot of bad situations before, she had gotten out of even more of them, but this was something else altogether. There was no planning for this, there might not even be an explanation for what this was.

The unease she felt only increased by how easy it had been for her to move through the orbital station. No one stopped her, no one questioned her, no one even seemed to spare her, a Jedi on the orbital station for Ziost, a glance as she strode through the area towards what appeared to be an unused transport shuttle. It was only exacerbated further when she took the shuttle and landed, and she could understand why no one had stopped her.

The planet was…lifeless. The feeling grew stronger and stronger as she moved closer to the surface, and now that she was on it, the feeling nearly enveloped her. Empty. Suffocating. A part of her burned. She could sense some people here and there, civilians and unpossessed soldiers. Lana was a bright spot even for being Sith. Theron she could sense faintly, which was a relief to know that at least he made it alive. But the overwhelming presence of Vitiate was…sickening. Aside from those few people she could sense, it was only him. Only the Emperor smothering or extinguishing everything else on the planet. Possessing everything to do his bidding. She looked down again at the two Imperial soldiers and the master Jedi she had just fought and killed.

This was depraved.

She heaved a sigh and stood up when the sound of footsteps behind her echoed through the building. She had allowed Vitiate’s next set of pawns to close in on her, there was no sense in trying to hide from them. But as she turned around to face them, she only watched as they were cut down by a lightsaber and blaster fire.

“Lana, Tavon,” she breathed a sigh of relief, a momentary true sense of reprieve from the madness that was going on around them.

She was glad that they were already on the planet, in some regards. She had considered opening a line of communication to at least one of them after Theron had contacted her, but between the urgency of the situation and the fact they were both Imperial, she hadn’t. Any information she could have given them probably would’ve been redundant at that point, though perhaps their information would’ve better prepared her for what she was about to get herself into. It didn’t matter now, she was just happy to see the two of them here and alright. Especially him. Tavon was a quiet spot in the Force, hard to detect even as he was standing in front of her. His presence was calming to the madness around them.

It was a short-lived feeling of relief.

“So my senses were correct,” Lana commented, eyeing her with a wary gaze for a few moments, “It really is you. You shouldn’t be here, Trick.”

“Did Theron send you?” Tavon asked, tone far less accusatory than Lana’s.

“What?” she asked, slightly surprised they already knew. “Yes, I got a call from Theron,” Trick confirmed taking only a moment to switch her attention back to everything at hand, “Not a very elucidating one though. Something about Ziost and the Emperor. I figured if nothing else, I could be of assistance,” she looked between them, “What the hell is going on here?”

“Vitiate,” Lana answered simply. Straight to the point, as usual. “The only information we truly have is what you have already witnessed. He is taking control of an increasing number of Sith and Imperial soldiers. His ultimate goal appears to be accumulating power. The more he kills, the stronger his presence becomes on Ziost.” She sighed and looked behind her into the expanse of Ziost before looking at Tavon, then back to Trick. Her immediate standoffishness seemed to fade with the realization the Jedi meant no harm, “Evacuations and stemming the bloodshed are our top priorities.”

“For me being someone who shouldn’t be here, you are quite forthcoming with information,” she quipped.

“It is in our best interest to accept assistance, no matter the form it comes in,” Tavon answered for her.

She looked between them again for a moment and didn’t miss the hint of unease with the Sith. So it was his idea then, that made sense. “Understandable,” Trick agreed with a nod. The answers were appreciated, and though they were no means what she wanted to hear, it was about what she expected. She glanced back at the bodies on the floor and swallowed the lump forming in her throat, “Ok, so me notwithstanding…why are the Jedi here?”

“Every Jedi currently on Ziost is thanks to Theron,” Tavon said, “That Jedi you fought was part of an SIS taskforce he apparently sent. The Sixth Line. A relative nuisance at the moment to the idea of ‘stemming the bloodshed.’”

“The Sixth Line?” she asked, unsure why she thought they would have any more information than she would. Jedi part of an SIS taskforce? Jedi that she didn’t know about? It just kept getting better.

“A group of Jedi that adhere to their own addendum of a sixth line of the Jedi Code, hence their name,” a new voice explained, as another man in an Imperial uniform joined them, “’There is no contemplation, there is only duty.’ Quite a noble and useful belief so long as you are not fighting against them.”

“Theron, what did you do?” she muttered, groaning as she tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling.

“That’s exactly what we would like to know,” Lana remarked, “Trick, this is Agent Kovach. Kovach, this is the former ally we were talking about.”

“A pleasure,” the man nodded at her and immediately turned back to Lana, “I’m sorry to intrude, Minister, but the probes we sent into the wrecked ship showed no one on board. And you have several calls waiting for you across the planet.”

“Minister?” Trick asked, but her eyes flicked to Tavon. He was already looking back at her calm…no, guarded. It was a subtle difference, but she could see it. Whatever this new position for Lana entailed, he was none too happy about it. She was curious, but now was certainly not the time.

“Yes,” Lana said and offered no further information. She clicked her communicator on and listened for a few moments before clicking it off again. “I am needed everywhere at once—” Trick felt a bit of sympathy and understanding at that, “—I trust that you two can handle yourselves out here?” she asked, looking to Tavon and then to Trick, “You did commendable work on Rishi and Yavin IV.”

“We can,” Tavon affirmed.

“We can but…” Trick agreed and looked at Lana, “Are you…safe…here?”

“If you are wondering if Vitiate can take possession of me, rest assured he has already tried and I have warded him off. He has given up for the time being,” Lana said, a ghost of a triumphant smirk on her face. It was a small victory given the greater war occurring right now. “I would suggest being more concerned with yourself. The Light Side alone clearly is not enough to fend him off.”

The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind since she landed on Ziost, but she supposed it was a valid concern. She glanced back at the Jedi master on the ground. To the outside world, she would be susceptible. But Vitiate hadn’t even tried since she’d been on Ziost…or if he had, he failed to the point she didn’t even notice an attempt. She doubted the latter, he knew he couldn’t control her, his new nickname for her confirmed it. Little Thief. A part of her still burned, but it was no danger. She was trying her best to ignore it altogether.

Not that anyone else knew that. Not that it was important now either.

“I have my ways, I’ll be fine,” Trick said and turned back to Lana, “Go.”

Lana nodded and turned on her heels, heading off to wherever she was called to next. Kovach followed close behind, leaving her with Tavon. It was better that way, honestly, probably what they both preferred. It was definitely what she preferred at least, they’d done better work together, alone, than with the whole group. Neither could explain it, but there was a synergy to their methods. They worked well together and had yet to hold each other back.

“You’ve been quiet,” Trick quipped, but she could see a subtle shift in his demeanor as Lana walked away. He seemed less on edge, ever so slightly. Given the circumstances and what they were about to trek back into, she couldn’t blame him, but it was ironic that he was more relaxed now with a Jedi than when he was in the presence of a Sith and another Imperial agent. She supposed she should be flattered.

“Lana explained the Force nonsense better than I could,” Tavon answered, and a small smirk hitched up one corner of his lips, “You probably understand it better than I do too.”

“Force nonsense is what I do best, unfortunately,” she sighed and stared out the opening of the building they were taking shelter in. The small talk and being caught up to speed were nice distractions, they had dulled the chaos and yawning emptiness that flooded her senses, but with the impending need to go back out there she could feel the disgust and desperation starting to rise in her throat again. “But even I don’t know how to deal with something like this,” she muttered.

“We deal with it by stopping Vitiate,” Tavon said and reached out, gently laying a hand on her shoulder. It only took a rudimentary understanding of the Force to know how and why she was so affected by this. “We have a plan, and honestly I am glad you are here to help with it.”

Trick shook her head and turned her attention towards him, “What can I do? How can I help?”

“Our first objective is getting to the armory and sealing it, once that is done we will discuss from there,” he answered.

She raised a brow, “That doesn’t seem like much of a plan.”

“I do not…necessarily agree with the objectives beyond that,” Tavon admitted, “Removing the planet’s defense system does not appear to be the best idea. And while we know Theron is planetside, I have no intention of capturing him should we encounter him.”

“Glad to know you’re willing to commit small acts of treason for us,” Trick teased.

“As I said, it is in our best interest to take all the help we can get. Given the status of the situation, I would simply prefer your help to leaving capable hands locked up somewhere, it’s only logical,” he shrugged. After a pause, he sighed and gave a small smile, “I am glad he was able to contact you though. I would rather do this with you than anyone else here, your assistance is appreciated.”

Trick gave a small smile in return, “You know I’ll do what I can.” She wasn’t really sure how much that was though, if anything at all. Everything seemed too far gone already, a lost cause. But then, what good were they if they didn’t at least try? She shook her head of the thought and moved back to the objective at hand. “As for the defense systems…that is certainly an…interesting take,” she agreed and shrugged, “Though I guess it would remove more weapons from getting into Vitiate’s hands. Or from a panicked public’s hands.”

“Which is why it is something to discuss once we are done with the armory,” he agreed, “If we die before then, it will all be moot anyways.”

“Comforting,” she deadpanned, but returned his wry smile with one of her own. She sighed again, smile slipping as she looked back outside to the rest of Ziost. There was no point in wasting anymore time, but another question suddenly popped into her head at the thought of going out there. “What about you? Are you safe?” she asked.

“What?”

“Lana said she’s already fought off Vitiate. I have my methods to the point I’m pretty sure he didn’t even try. But what about you?” she clarified, “Force sensitivity or lack thereof doesn’t really seem to be a factor in his possessing…so are you safe from it?”

Tavon let out a laugh under his breath and nodded, “Shockingly, I do have my own methods too.”

“I suppose it isn’t that surprising, considering it’s you,” Trick said, “But still. Good.” Wary eyes trailed back to the assault going on outside as another thought crossed her. “How…confident would you say you are in your methods?” she asked.

“Fairly,” he said, “Enough to know Vitiate shouldn’t be a problem. Why?”

“Look, I—” she paused and sighed, unsure of how to ask what she wanted to. Really, she didn’t know in full what she wanted or if it was something he could even fulfill. But she needed something out there. Someone close she could tether herself to in the otherwise expanding emptiness Vitiate was creating. “—I know you don’t have vital signs. And I know you aren’t particularly fond of the Force and all of its nonsense. But could you…try to be present to it right now? I don’t know if that’s something you could do, I’ve never exactly lived without the Force, but if you can I just need…it would just be appreciated, is all.”

Tavon looked over her once or twice, taking in her appearance. He hadn’t seen much faze the Jedi in front of him, and that spoke to a lot considering they had fought a reanimated man and stopped his plot to annihilate an entire planet. But now…well, they were fighting a reanimated man to stop his plot of annihilating an entire planet, but it was different. The methods were different, and it was apparent Trick was frazzled, even more so than Lana. He couldn’t help but wonder if the atmosphere was downright hurting her.

It wouldn’t hurt to try and acquiesce her request, would it? He was confident in his abilities to keep Vitiate out, and relatively comfortable Vitiate hadn’t bothered looking at him anyways. It was probably one of the few times being completely Force blind was beneficial regarding a Sith’s interest.

“Only for you,” he agreed.

In any other situation, Trick would’ve been flustered by his declaration. She doubted it was a simple task to try to stay open to the Force as it was, let alone in such a discordant place as Ziost currently was. That he was willing to do it at all spoke volumes, that he was only willing to do it for her benefit even more so. But now, all she could feel was relief as she essentially clutched to him with what sense she could.

He was an odd spot in the Force, with no vitals and an incredibly limited sense of it to begin with, but for the moment it didn’t matter. He was there, he was alive, and he wasn’t under Vitiate’s control. It was small, but it was enough to center herself on against the onslaught of the growing void outside.

“Thank you,” she breathed. She opened her eyes, not even realizing she had closed them to seek him out, and met his gaze, “Thank you,” she said again and nodded towards the door, “I guess there’s no point in wasting anymore time.”

*

The armory was secure, and after an exchange between Tav and Lana, she was only left with even more questions. Minister of Sith Intelligence, that’s what her title meant. No wonder he wasn’t pleased to be around her. Trick preferred to stay out of it, she had when they were first talking between themselves, but now that they were off to take the planetary defense systems offline, she needed something again. His presence alone was doing a lot, but the silence felt deafening in the face of the yawning chasm of Ziost. And even then, despite that he had been willing to let her latch onto him, something was bugging her about Tavon too.

There was a small, nagging sensation that hit her spine and crawled up to the back of her mind every so often. It was better than Vitiate and Ziost, but it was starting to drive her mad too.

“Sooooooo…?” Trick asked as they stepped back outside. She paused for a second to sense what was around them. Vitiate of course, he was somehow everywhere and nowhere all at once. But there was some distance between them and anyone else. They would likely have to fight again before reaching the defense systems, but not anytime in the immediate future. With that confirmed, she strode next to Tavon and looked at him expectantly.

“So?” he asked in return.

“Lana Beniko, Minister of Sith Intelligence?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, but the clenching of his jaw was obvious.

“I take it that happened soon after Yavin IV?” she continued to press. She was trying to get details as much as she was trying to just get him to talk about it. And as much as she was trying to use it as a distraction.

“Yes.”

Trick sighed, “And how is she doing?”

“She is—” he hesitated, choosing his words carefully, unsure how she would take to his true feelings on the matter. Despite their philosophical differences on the Force, the two appeared to have made an unlikely pair of friends. And despite her asking, she already seemed to know the answer to her own question, “—Making decisions.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes, “I should hope. Tell me, are you trying to put on a united Imperial front for my sake…or because it’s what’s expected?” she asked and she saw the slightest hint of a smirk on his face, “I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s kind of apparent she’s in over her head here. It’s also kind of apparent there are better suited individuals to fill that position.”

“You are correct,” Tavon agreed, “She’s undertrained, unprepared, and unqualified for the position.”

“Wow,” she chuckled and then immediately paused. There was that sensation again, ending in the feeling of…almost like electricity tingling the back of her mind. She stared at his retreating back for a moment before shaking her head and snapping out of it. “I didn’t think it would be that easy to get you to admit how you really feel,” she said, trying to play off her moment of hesitation. Her attention was caught though. It was definitely coming from him, now she just needed to figure out what it was.

“What is the point of continuing to hide it? You already knew what I believed,” he shrugged. He looked her over as she caught up with him and a brow rose, “Unless that is not what you were trying to imply?”

“No no, it is,” she nodded, “I’m just surprised you are that upfront, is all. I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. The Sith seem to have an annoying habit of inserting themselves where they don’t belong.”

Tavon blew out a breath in agreement. “I have voiced my displeasure over the situation to no avail,” he admitted. His gaze returned to what was ahead of him and his expression hardened, “Such is the Empire’s hierarchy.”

Trick frowned as he spoke. “You know it doesn’t have to be that way, right?” she asked and smirked when he returned his attention to her, “Offer’s still open to join the SIS. You like Theron well enough, he’d vouch for you, and Jedi don’t interfere there.” It was a joke that started on Yavin IV, she knew he’d never leave, but it was fun to remind him.

Tavon scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Except when they do, apparently.”

“The Sixth Line…” she sighed and frowned again, “Given that even the Council didn’t have any information on the Sixth Line leads me to believe they were very highly trained by the SIS alone. They don’t count.” The skeptical look he gave her as he motioned towards her made her pout. “Oh come on! I don’t count either. I was only called in after it was apparent that this was—"

There it was again. Trick froze in her tracks as she felt another jolt. It wasn’t the best idea to stop, Vitiate was on the move as much as they were, but feeling the jolt rattle through her skull again and finally identifying the source of it left her feet rooted to the ground. “Y-your belt?”

“What?” Tavon asked, turning around to look at her.

“Your belt?” she asked again, “It’s…shocking you?” That’s what the jolt was, a sense of pain from a dull, electric shock.

“Yes,” he nodded, completely unconcerned by this revelation.

“W-why?!”

He thought the answer was obvious, “I told you, I have my ways for dealing with Vitiate. Or any intruder of such means, really.”

“By shocking yourself with an electrobelt?!” Trick exclaimed, “That’s ridiculous!”

“I wouldn’t call it ridiculous,” he said and smirked at the timing, “Shocking, perhaps, but not ridiculous.”

She scowled when she felt another jolt hit her…him. “This isn’t funny!”

“I found that to be quite humorous,” he disagreed, “Besides, this hardly warrants such a reaction. It isn’t the most unheard of practice for such things.” He crossed his arms and frowned at her, studying her again, trying to glean if this was something more. It really shouldn’t be that surprising this was what he was doing. It was a simple means by which to force out any unwanted intruders perhaps, but it was effective. He had grown comfortable relying on it, at the very least.

It truly was hardly a concern, he had grown so used to it that he barely felt it anymore. Trick, on the other hand, was a concern. It had been obvious since they found each other on Ziost that her emotional state wasn’t the best. He had thought having an objective and moving through the planet had been helping her, she at least appeared to have calmed down. Now though…now he could feel his worry growing again.

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes warily looking over her for any greater changes.

“I’m fine,” she scoffed and shouldered off the notion he was implying, “But there has to be a better way for you to do this.”

And logically, Trick knew that was false. She knew it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. It was one of the less intricate and more effective ways to prevent possessions, especially for those without any Force tricks up their sleeves. It only made sense that he would be using it here, but logic didn’t prevent the revulsion from lodging itself in her throat. Not at him, not for using it, but at the piece of clothing itself. At what it did.

Maybe it was the current situation on Ziost that distracted her enough from it, but she understood now why the sensation kept nagging at her. Cutting at her and demanding to be recognized. It was a familiar type of pain, different in its location and intensity, but familiar all the same. He didn’t have to be hurting himself like this here, no matter how dull it was. No one deserved that, to be relentlessly shocked, voluntarily or otherwise. She knew what that was like, knew the annoyance, the pain, the…the burning and the ache left over…and the fact he felt the need to willingly submit himself to it only made it all the more horrifying and…and that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Parts of her had been burning since she stepped foot on Ziost, but this was the first time her neck burned in years.

“There just has to be a better way for you to do this,” she repeated quietly and took a step closer to him. She felt another jolt and reached her hand out to him. Her fingers curled before she actually touched him, but he could feel the sensation of her healing alleviating the pain of the latest shock.

Tavon watched quietly as she clearly struggled with something that was beyond him. Yet his worry still started fading. She was still her, that much was apparent by the fact she felt the need to heal him over something so minor, but something altogether different had taken hold of her concern. When the last of the sensation of her Force healing dissipated, he took her hand gently and, when she unclenched it, entwined their fingers. He hoped it served as much as a gesture to show he was fine as it served as another grounding point for her. “If the alternative is possession, I would much prefer the shock.”

“The alternative doesn’t have to be possession,” she insisted. She looked down at their hands and sighed, trying to will away the bit of nausea in the pit of her gut. This was too much, way too much for one day. “I don’t know if you have to do anything at all.”

“Unfortunately I do not have the same strengths as you…or even Lana in that regard,” he responded.

“I don’t believe that,” she said, and she didn’t. She knew him, she knew what he was capable of. He didn’t need to be reliant on this. “I’ve seen you, I’d like to think I know you well enough. That sort of strength doesn’t require the Force, it only needs…” She cut herself off when she felt his hand squeeze hers and looked back up to be met with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Your faith in me is appreciated, but misplaced—” It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t even necessarily a warning, but something in his tone and in his eyes told Trick to stop pushing. Her words of protest died on her lips, even as her horror urged her to keep going. He truly believed he needed this. “—If I weren’t trying to help you, perhaps I would consider, but even then—”

She recoiled, her eyes widening as she took a step back from him. If he had started this because of her…kriff. She would never be able to forgive herself. “If this is because I asked…you should’ve just told me! I can manage without you.”

“…But even then I would still desire to use it for my own peace of mind,” he finished, “Quite literally. Besides, I am more concerned for your current state anyways, this has the potential to affect you much more than it does me.”

“I’m…” Trick stopped herself before saying she was fine. She knew she wasn’t fine, and he knew she wasn’t fine. The mess she had found here had affected her too much at the start for her to more appropriately respond to it. And that only set the precedent for her to be unable to temper herself when she was blindsided with the shock belt. “I have dealt with Vitiate’s power before. Though it was to a far less tangible degree, I know how to manage.”

Tavon raised a brow, “Your ‘ways’ don’t exactly seem to be working out for your emotional wellbeing.”

“You try feeling a planet full of people being controlled, or killed and having their essence consumed,” she retorted, “And then finding out your f-friend is shocking himself to keep himself sane! That isn’t any side effects from the Force or Vitiate, that’s empathy and exhaustion. My Force nonsense for dealing with Vitiate attempting to possess me is working perfectly.”

He sighed and nodded, acquiescing to her point, “Very well. You still do not seem to be handling this the best, however,” he pointed out and flashed her a dry smile, “Enough that you would freak out over a man doing what is necessary to survive.”

“That’s not the Force either that’s…” she trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence. They were two completely separate issues, and while she could explain Ziost just fine, there was no direct way to explain her issue with the electrobelt. Not any way that didn’t lead to more questions that she definitely didn’t want to answer nor that they had the time to be discussing anyways. Her outburst here had already caused them to waste enough time as it was. “I’m so tired of feeling pain,” Trick chose instead, which technically wasn’t a lie either.

“In that case, you chose to lean on the wrong person,” Tavon said, wry smile returning, “If it helps any, I’ve grown accustomed to it.”

Her stomach twisted at the thought he’d been doing this long enough to grow accustomed. But then…she’d felt something similar on Yavin IV hadn’t she? Fainter when she wasn’t focusing on him, but it had been present. Kriffing hell. “Hardly,” she said and sighed in resignation.

It didn’t help knowing that at all, but what could she do? He wasn’t going to stop just because she asked, and it’s not like she could rightfully ask anyways. Not here, not on Ziost at least. It was a practical means for protecting himself, and she had asked him to potentially open himself up to be even more of a target. Something she wished she could rescind and knew he wouldn’t let her rescind anyways. Tav was doing what he had to, she just…didn’t like the method or the necessity. “…But I know I can’t ask you to just take it off. That wouldn’t be fair, no matter how much I dislike it.”

He stood staring at her for a few moments in silence, letting the relief over her acquiescing to his wish settle him. She still was unsettled though, that much was apparent by the look in her eye and uncomfortable shift of her feet, but he didn’t really know what else he could do to reassure her. He couldn’t understand her reason for being this upset to begin with. All he could think to do was reach out and take her hand again, “You understand that I am alright, correct?”

Trick swallowed against the lump in her throat. It wasn’t that she thought he wasn’t alright…but she wasn’t sure if he was alright either. She didn’t know what to think or believe or feel anymore, all she knew was that she was in no way prepared for the hell this day launched her into. And that maybe she should take Tav at his word. It was unsettling to her how unperturbed he was by the whole thing, but he truly did appear alright…and not possessed, which was most important. And his presence was still helping her, however much she might’ve wished it wasn’t now.

Finally she nodded, but said nothing, fearing that if she opened her mouth again, another outburst would fall out. They still had an objective to complete, and she knew there was still quite a bit of work to be done before they could even start considering their overall mission complete, let alone successful. She had wasted enough time as it was, she wasn’t looking to lose any more. She also wasn’t looking to dwell on it anymore either, not that anything on Ziost was a better option at the moment. Their desire to stop Vitiate was all that mattered, she could at least stay focused on that.

She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly through her nose, reciting the Jedi Code silently in her head in an attempt to force even a semblance of herself back under control. With that, she opened her eyes and looked at him for a moment before giving his hand a squeeze and resuming their trek, “Just…when this is all over, let me take a look at your back—” she responded finally. It was the least she could offer, “—I know a thing or two about electrical burns.”

The last part had slipped out. Trick could feel his eyes on her as she went around him, but she didn’t look back. It was better to just let him come to the natural conclusion that she was referring to Force lightning coming from the Sith. And while the scars on her neck still burned, she knew they were more than hidden enough that he wouldn’t see them.

Kriff, was Theron getting an earful when they found him.

[hellieheat]

Chapter One

He had promised himself that he would never allow it to happen again. Hot hands tumbling over his body, scratching claw marks over his reddening skin. Desperately, so desperately, he tried to clench the tears back, to stop them from falling down his face. He refused to allow his weakness to show. But in those deep, burning green eyes, he could see piercing steel blue reflected, and as the coarse patch of facial hair scoured his back, his mind raced remembering. Remembering the face of another…smiling…hurting him…hurting him…making him bleed.

***

It had all happened so fast. Laurent had had only moments to give the order to take his uncle in chains, to bind him and lock him away in the dungeons of Akielos. While so many eyes had looked on, desiring his uncle’s execution, Laurent had had only moments to realize that he was unable to give that order. He was unable to watch his uncle’s execution. So instead he had ordered him to be bound and taken away. To be dealt with later. But so many things had come first. Kastor’s near escape. Damen’s wounds. Laurent’s revenge.

In the moments after Kastor had fallen, Laurent’s only priority was Damen, the man who had given him everything…who had also taken so much away. As the bells tolled the rise of a new King in Akielos, a feeling of completeness overwhelmed Laurent. Holding his wounded warrior to his heart, he almost forgot about his uncle, shaking in a dank and dark prison underground. It seemed only fitting to him now that after everything, death should await the man who had taken his childhood, who had almost stolen his crown.

Damen’s eyes fluttered closed as he succumbed to his wounds and Laurent gently brushed a strand of dark brown hair back from his forehead, noting the sheen of sweat that had accumulated. How he loved this man…though he had yet to admit those words aloud. Was it possible, truly possible, to reunite the kingdoms of Akielos and Vere? To bring back together the lands that had become mortal enemies, that held so much hostility and animosity and prejudice between them?

If loving Damen, forgiving him of everything, had proven anything to Laurent, it was that it was possible. It had to be.

From behind him, Laurent could hear desperate footsteps racing up the stairs. “Damen! Damianos!” The footsteps stopped. “What have you done? What happened here?”

Nikandros. Laurent did not take his eyes from Damen’s face as he calmly said, “Find Paschal. Damen has been injured. Kastor is dead.”

Silence. Laurent knew Nikandros was observing his surroundings, taking in the blood and the chaos. Kastor’s dead body. Damen in Laurent’s arms.

“ You did this?” The deep voice was hesitant, almost frightened.

“Did you not hear me? Damen is injured .” Finally, Laurent brought his narrowed eyes to meet Nikandros’s, his brows drawn and his jaw squared. “Find Paschal or risk losing him.”

As Nikandros turned on his heel and began to run, Laurent turned back to Damen. Though his hands were shaking, he felt sure in his assessment of Damen’s wounds. Damen was not going to die, but it was best that those around them fear the worst. Laurent would take no chances at losing this man. Not now. Not ever.

“Laurent…” His name escaped Damen’s lips in a soft moan, the sound reverberating through Laurent, warming its way into his soul. Hesitantly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Damen’s forehead, cherishing their closeness. They were alive. All their enemies had been defeated. They had the rest of their lives to begin, side by side.

He could have scoffed at his own naivete. What would come next would not be easy. So their enemies had been defeated…would not more arise? It was an illusion to think that there would be peace after such an enormous upheaval. But for a moment, all Laurent wanted was to bask in this feeling, this euphoria, this calm before the inevitable storm.

Laurent held tight to Damen until Paschal arrived with Nikandros and several other Akielion guards in tow. He watched with studious and attentive eyes as Paschal began to tend to the wound on Damen’s side, cleaning it with a damp cloth and giving orders to the men around them. When finally Damen had been prepped enough to be moved, Nikandros lifted his king to his chest and carried him toward the king’s chambers. Chambers that only hours before had belonged to Damen’s traitorous bastard brother…and now belonged to King Damianos of Akielos.

Laurent followed behind, weariness settling in his bones. Now was not the time to rest. Damen needed him. Part of Laurent feared that in letting Damen out of his sight for only a moment, he might risk losing him forever. If Laurent had learned one thing in his twenty years of life, it was that those he loved were the most fragile, the most easy to lose. He wouldn’t leave Damen now, at his most vulnerable.

As Nikandros settled Damen on the made bed in his new quarters, Laurent’s eyes never left his lover’s sleeping form. Silence surrounded them then, as Paschal leaned in close and pressed a cloth to Damen’s head. From the corner of his eye, Laurent could feel Nikandros’s cold glare. He crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to acknowledge the scowl he knew was etched over those dark features.

“You going to tell us what happened, Your Highness?” That voice was harsh, the tone tinged with a sharpness Laurent had grown used to over the past several months.

“Kastor attacked Damen. After they fought, he stabbed him with the intent to kill him. I stepped in.”

“You killed him.”

Laurent’s lips drew together tightly. “I did.”

“It’s interesting that there is no one around to corroborate that story…”

Laurent rolled his eyes, still not meeting those of Nikandros. “Damen will corroborate when he wakes.”

“ If he wakes. And you better hope he does.” Nikandros had drawn nearer. Though Laurent still refused to look at the barbarian, he could feel the warmth of his breath as the larger man leaned over him. “If any further harm comes to him…”

“If any further harm comes to him, it won’t be at my hand. In case you haven’t noticed, he is quite good at getting himself maimed and wounded,” Laurent spat. Finally, their eyes met, cold blue steel meeting hot chocolate amber. Laurent could feel the power and force radiating from the Kyros, this man who loved Damen perhaps as much as Laurent himself did. Laurent forced himself not to look away.

“Your Highness!” Jord’s panicked voice abruptly broke Laurent’s focus and he turned to see his Captain, trembling wide-eyed in the doorway. “It’s your uncle…he’s…gone…”

Laurent’s heart skipped a beat in his chest as the world crashed down around him. “Gone?”

“He’s not in his cell. We…can’t find him anywhere.” Jord’s eyes held a terror Laurent had rarely seen. After everything they had fought for, everything they had achieved, this one moment, this one mistake could ruin it all.

“Send a search team to surround the palace. Find him.” Laurent did his best to keep the fear from his voice, but he could feel the tremble reverberating through his core. He watched Jord’s retreating form disappear from sight with his heart in his throat. This couldn’t be. It couldn’t .

Again, he could feel the weight of Nikandros’s stare pressing down on him. “So what now?”

“Now, we find my Uncle and this time, we don’t hesitate. I’ll execute him myself if I have to.”

“Well now we know you’re capable of it…Killing kings seems to be your specialty…”

“My uncle is not the king. He never was.” Laurent’s voice was terse, his tone clipped, though rage flooded his body at those thoughtless words.

Movement at Damen’s bedside drew Laurent’s eyes as Paschal rose to his feet. His knowing look met Laurent from behind his glasses, seeing everything Laurent so desperately wanted to hide. This was the man who had seen the worst of which Laurent’s uncle was capable, this man who knew how deep were the wounds with which his uncle had left him.

“Your Highness,” he said calmly, silently acknowledging the anxiety Laurent knew must be visible on his face. “Perhaps you should take a rest, clean yourself up. With your uncle displaced, your country needs you now more than ever. We should not take longer than necessary to return to Vere.”

His words startled Laurent, though he knew the truth behind them. If he was to make his claim to the throne known, he must act quickly, while the timing was right. But he could not help his eyes drifting back to Damen’s slumbering form. How helpless he looked when he slept. It was all Laurent could do not to approach the bed and wrap himself around that large bulk of a man.

“I won’t leave him. Not until he’s well enough to lead.”

Nikandros stirred impatiently where he stood. “And you think you’re to rule in his stead, then? Two kingdoms at your command?”

“I have no desire to rule Akielos, Kyros . Your King is more than capable of ruling from his bedside. But there is much to be done. And this country cannot wait for Damen to wake. The people need action. They need to know that those loyal to Kastor will be rooted out and made to kneel.”

“And our brother of Vere will be the one to make them kneel?”

Laurent nodded. “I will do what I must to secure this kingdom for Damen. He would have done...he did do the same for me and mine.”

Nikandros was watching him now with suspicious eyes. He remained silent, but Laurent could tell there would be no winning his trust…at least not yet.

Paschal seemed uneasy, twisting his hands as he observed Laurent. “Your Highness, I really must insist on haste. Vere needs its king.”

Laurent nodded. “Vere will have its king. But not before Akielos has theirs. We will return to Vere after Damen’s coronation. We’ll begin plans immediately.”

“And if he doesn’t recover?” Nikandros’s voice was hard.

“He will,” Laurent said, willing it into reality.

[allxrd]

October 2029: The War Has Come Home

It seemed inevitable, that the fight should come to their front door.

It wasn’t so much a door as their property line, but it was still inevitable. They knew the price they would have to pay when their last dinner guests didn’t make it to dessert. 

Always, Allard preferred one-on-one encounters where he was entirely in control. He’d never brought it into their home, but he’d brought it into the one he inherited from his grandmother in Italy. The only room where dust didn’t accumulate in that house was the basement, where he was the one who decided what came next. 

These large plans, though, he preferred to just plan and not be part of the execution. Too many things got out of his full control. He had a mind for the strategies, not the actions. It was why he loved to watch chess and come up with ways to win, yet rarely played himself. When he actually played, he felt like nothing more than another of his opponent’s pawn. 

Some plans had worked - some hadn’t, and they’d lost numbers equal to their enemies. When they took Hogwarts, everything seemed certain and sure. Now, that victory seemed minuscule compared to all they’d endured in two years. Amid all the planning, hiding, lying, sacrifice, and death, everything that triggered it seemed so amateur. 

Not once had they forgotten what they fought for, though. Not once had they stopped talking about what they would do to repair the collateral damage of their war.

Now, war had arrived to challenge how much Allard was willing to destroy of his own for this fight.

He’d sacrificed already. He’d barely touched his violin in a year, instead training with his element to better utilize it as a weapon and a defense. He’d sent hit-wizards after Aurélie and his son and then sent their bodies to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. He’d barely spoken to his parents, to keep them out of the fighting as much as possible. The mistresses and the liquor and drugs went the way of his instruments, too. There were more important things to dedicate his time to in these past months.

There were two things left in his life that would truly be a sacrifice to lose - his home and his wife. 

Now here he stood next to her, at the top of the staircase, looking out a broad window that gave them a full view of the forces gathering at their property line. Their own allies were stationed throughout the home and the grounds, with several hovering in the clouds above ready to drop at any moment. The sun was still rising, cloaking everything in a brilliant golden hue.

“It looks beautiful.” Lara sounded incredulous, maybe at the fact that they could still recognize beauty or because they could still recognize it in the face of what was about to become of their home.

“We’ll remember it this way,” Allard muttered. He hoped they would, and that they had the chance to remember anything at all.

The sun was rising quickly. The gold was slipping away, and the footsteps on the staircase were the signal that it was time to move. Side by side, the couple walked down to the main floor as dozens of others rushed up around them. Jon was in no rush, the air of a natural, calm leader emanating from him as he passed by. The acknowledgement he gave Lara was more substantial than the one he offered Allard, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on something so petty.

House elves pushed the door open for their masters, and the two made their way onto the grounds before parting ways. Little more than a quiet wish for luck and a brief kiss were exchanged, as if they were merely going separate ways before one or the other took part in some kind of competition. And then Lara was off to her precious garden, and Allard apparated to the roof where several other air elementals were already waiting. 

From such a high vantage point, even more could be seen. The forces that were gathering on the opposing side were larger than Allard expected, but they had their own strong army. Scanning the grounds, Allard could pick out several dozen figures that stood out to him. 

Mia Selwyn was in the garden with Lara, not trailing after Jon like a shadow as she had been months before after they sustained a significant loss and Jon was injured. Their relationship had been strained since the incident with Auror Anton, of which Allard didn’t know all the details. Did it really matter if she was there, wand at the ready to fight for them? She’d never left their side, like some people. And she’d even gotten the vampires on their side. Something else he didn’t know many details on, and didn’t care to considering the ring she started wearing around when it happened.

Sitting casually on the ledge of their relatively knew “reflecting pool” by the side of the house was Joshua Radley. In the sunlight, his hair almost looked blonde again. The man grayed so fast many wondered if he’d just been using a dying potion for some time. There were rumors, though - that he created a spell that was killing him, that he’d been taking a de-aging potion since he arrived in Hogsmeade and was really at least ten years older. Allard noticed it all happened when he stopped spending so much time with Alice Longbottom and more time with one particular strawberry blonde, but whatever caused his physical transition also caused a transition in his approach. What had once always been a dedicated approach alongside Lawrence became borderline overzealous. Allard had personally practiced and sparred with Joshua on multiple occasions. He’d been present when the decision was made for Joshua to command his own small army of Inferi. He’d taken a cue from the past to hide them underwater until they needed to be summoned.

Hovering on a broom near the property perimeter was, of course, Garrett Abernathy. In his backpack were dozens of feet of parchment and hovering next to him was his quill that would take down every note he dictated to it as he watched the fighting around him. Even from this distance, Allard could see the massive coffee stain down the front of the man’s shirt. Ridiculous that someone like him, Mayte or not, was being considered their official historian and scribe. He could admit that some of the notes Garrett took were very helpful, though.

Also noticeable from the distance was the front lines of the self-proclaimed “light side.” He knew exactly who was leading the charge from the ground to the sky. He knew exactly who was there to destroy nearly every important material item in his life.

The golden hue from the sun was gone. Dew clung to any flora in sight. It was cloudy and misty, but the sky that poked through was a stunning light blue. It was so peaceful for a second that there seemed to be no real build up before both sides suddenly surged toward each other. 

Spells and counterspells flew through the air. Bodies were already falling. One portion of the flying faction for the other side came straight for the roof, and the air elementals prepped themselves. In the lead was a face Allard never would’ve recognized six months ago, but since, she’d become a thorn in his side. She was a former Seeker with no family left and nothing to lose - the kind of combination that made an aerial lead actually someone to be concerned about.

The combined power of the air elementals present was enough to generate a small tornado that dragged down Poppy and every one of her followers until they were in a heap with their broken brooms. Allard managed to dodge a curse, but some of the others were stunned or recovering from gashes and other pain-inducing spells. It all happened so fast Allard didn’t even realize they were injured until after their enemies were on the ground, and by then there was no time to waste. He screamed for a medic and mounted his broom that had slid dangerously close to the edge of the roof. 

Another aerial team came in, but the dozens of flyers who’d been waiting in the clouds above the property descended swiftly. Allard hovered in the middle, sending Cruciatus curses at the backs of any successful attackers as they flew by him. A stunning spell hit him unexpectedly and he slipped off his broom almost immediately. For a moment, he was absolutely certain he was going to die. It was an idea he was becoming too familiar with. 

Someone snatched him up by the cloak, counterspelled him, and managed to drape him over the front of their broom before both were deposited on the ground very unceremoniously. Allard scrambled to his feet just in time to put up a shield against a hex, but not soon enough to avoid someone casting a spell to splice him across the back, right between his shoulderblades. It was merely a papercut to him after some things he’d endured, but there was still that initial reaction of a gasp and gritted teeth against the pain. He spun, sending a stinging curse at the person who’d first attacked him. Tambora. Of course. Was it really a fight if a Weasley didn’t cut him up?

The brief exchange of curses and hexes left him with another gash down his bicep, this time with a curse that left the wound burning to the point of feeling nearly immobile. What spell was that? Where had she learned it? File it away, come back to it, fight now. Tambora found a better target, Allard dodged someone else’s curse, Allard moved closer to his home.

Closer and closer, inch by inch. A step backward with every shield he threw up and every curse he sent flying - stunnings, Cruciatus, and even a Killing Curse that missed its target (it was so much less fun in a big fight like this compared to something one-on-one). Everyone was closing in on the home. From the music room there was a sudden ball of fire that crashed through the window. Allard didn’t have time to watch the burning shards of his broken violin fall to the ground. 

When his heel hit the first step of the house, he sent up a strong shield around himself and looked around. He caught Joshua’s eye in the distance as the man was in the midst of a battle that looked very personal. Allard nodded, and Joshua nodded back. He knocked back his opponent. With his jaw agape more than he realized, Allard watched as the Inferi rose from the water. 

Shield still up, Allard quickly Apparated to a room that overlooked the garden. The window was already shattered and much of the room scorched or destroyed in another means. There was a body curled up in the corner, either dead or nearly dead based on the blood that was pooled beneath it. Ignoring the potential corpse, Allard stepped up onto the ledge of the window and looked over the battles ongoing in the garden. The ground was cracked in multiple places, every single plant had turned into a dangerous weapon, and flower petals were whirling in the wind. 

Lara was nowhere to be found. 

All was exactly how it should be. 

Allard jumped down from the windowsill and started to whip the air up even more, gathering all the petals into a mass that was big enough to blind anyone. He sent it upward and brought it down fast on the garden, discombobulating everyone presently fighting and causing enough commotion for the popping that came with disapparating not to be heard. When the petals settled, none of the earth elementals from his side were to be found. Those that remained from the opposing side looked ready to converge on him, but Allard vanished, too.

When he landed in his study, exhausted from the constant apparanting, the ground was already starting to shake. Jon arrived as it became more severe, and Allard opened a cupboard to reveal the illegal portkey awaiting inside. From behind the cupboard he pulled a new broom. Nothing needed to be talked about. Jon was gone before Allard even got the window open. There was the distinct smell of building dust and something burning. Now able to see the back of the manor, he realized a fire had begun in the kitchen that seemed to be spreading fast. On the other side, a back corner of the house had been completely blasted to pieces and left the guest quarters totally exposed. 

The shaking of the ground was so strong by the time Allard pushed off that he lost his footing and fell uncomfortably hard on the broom. Letting out a groan, he peeled up toward the sky and over the roof of the manor again. The flames from the music room were also growing stronger, and people were getting sloppy enough with their attacks on the Inferi and each other that they were hitting the building more than other bodies. Joshua was using the Inferi like cattle dogs, rounding people up and herding them toward the manor.

Allard was breathing hard. He was physically tired, and mentally on overdrive. The cuts on his body were stinging and burning incessantly. He was fairly certain that whatever hit him that he thought was a stunning spell was something more, making it difficult for him to take deep breaths. It was difficult to focus on anything as he soared across his property, and he nearly missed the signal - a bat darting across his line of vision. Placing his wand to his throat, he muttered, “Sonorus,” before pursing his lips and letting out a brief whistling tune. 

Right after, there was a sudden and loud popping sound as half the people on the property disapparated. Allard knew he should’ve kept going, but he came to a halt right on the property line and turned to watch as the ground split in a dozen different places beneath his home to send it into ruin.

[elizabeth-234]

Chapter Ten

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18560182/chapters/44557171

Someone to Care

Chapter nine

“I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.”

His breath came in short bursts as he stared at the man in front of him. The man who for a long time Tony had counted as a friend, a brother. They had been through a lot together. As a team they had save the world and Tony never thought he would live to see the day where the Avengers fought on separate sides. This was actually happening. It was no longer apart of the dreams he woke up from breathless, damp sheets encompassing him. Tony had been convinced for the longest time that they would be able to talk it out. He had no real reason before to think that they couldn’t.

They were both reasonable men. Steve wasn’t a bad man and actually Tony looked up to him for his selflessness and honor. Both men wanted to do the right thing in the end and work toward the same goal. But somewhere, the journey toward that goal got derailed and now they were bound and set on different tracks. Presently on this evacuated airfield they were face to face, only a few feet apart but a world of feeling separated them. Tony imagined a giant moat coming between their two factions. He wished it were really there so no one would be able to cross over. He stared at the self-righteous face across from him and all the stress and worry he had been hording inside himself within the past couple of weeks came rushing forward. God that helmet was ridiculous.

Fear clouded over his body and like an addicting mist Tony inhaled deeply. Chaos surrounded him every way he glanced. He was flying toward Steve, coming down hard and slamming his friend’s head with his fist. Steve staggered and retaliated with his own hit. T’Challa and Barnes were in hand to hand combat. The kid was facing off against Wanda; holding her own. He even spotted Nat and Clint squaring off in the corner of his eye. Nothing sat right about this and his vision kept shaking and tunneling in. All right Tony, just focus. Make sure they don’t make it to the Quinjet, collect Barnes, report to Ross, and make sure your team is all right. Make sure everyone is all right.

Even though he was wearing his suit, his more protective skin, Tony could still feel the punches reverberate through his body. The contusions he got from Wanda’s parlor trick via cars earlier were still aching. One of Clint’s arrows came rushing toward him. There wasn’t enough time to react and it came into contact right above his reactor. A light exploded all around him and the pressure seized his body. A deafening sound followed after as more arrows started exploding all around him. His attempts at destroying each one were useless against the endless barrage coming his way. Clint was such a pain in the ass. He continued his assault on Clint who could run surprisingly fast, ducking between crates in hopes to impede Tony’s efforts.

Then the kid had a brilliant idea. Somehow Scott Lang, aka Ant-Man, as Friday reminded him, had become an even bigger pain in the ass, literally. The kid’s plan was crazy. But crazy enough that it just might work. Tony could see the webbing wrapped securely around the giant’s legs from his vantage point in the sky. Rhodey and him flew directly up Lang’s body and both hit him squarely in the jaw, snapping his neck back and causing Lang to loose balance. He could hear the kid’s infectious laughter from the coms and felt a smile creep its way onto his face. One more down.

The laughter bubbling up from his throat fizzled out as he watched the red and blue suit they had worked so hard on fly through the air and crash into a mound of crates. There was no movement that he could see coming from the splinters of wood and scattered trail of dirt. The anger from earlier melted away and was replaced by nothing. It wasn’t even a feeling of numbness, which made a person aware of it by the hole left from the curious absence of feeling. This nothing masked itself in a gentle manner, designed as relief until the person was trapped in an eternity of blankness.

Tony flew down, landing next to her fragile body. He frantically tossed some planks of wood away and oh so carefully wiped some dirt off of her shoulder. His hands hovered over the side of her face and on top of her hand; which was grabbing at her side. What if her spine had broken? If that was the case there was no way he could move her. It would be paramount to keep her still and could cause even more damaged if her body was jostled about. Carefully, without putting strain on any of her muscles Tony slipped her mask off of her head. The eyes that had barraged him with so many questions in the past were scrunched closed, unnaturally tight. Her lips were cracked and a tint of red congregated at the right corner. A strangled sound escaped them. He could see she was attempting to move onto her back. The red colored arms came up in a defensive manner, protecting her body and her eyes shot open when he rested his metal hands on them. The muscles strained underneath his hands as she fought him, punching and scratching in order to fend off the threat she perceived. God, what was he thinking? Bringing her into an actual battle. It was beside the point that she wasn’t actually supposed to be fighting.

He tried to speak to her, to bring her back to the present. “Kid, are you okay? Come on, Peyton. It’s Tony Stark.” Her hands continued their movements. Fear clouded over her face and rooted themselves in her widened eyes, their glassy quality reflecting the harsh sun above them.

His grip remained as gentle as it could be while restraining her and again tried to reach out, “Kid, you’ve got to calm down.” She didn’t stop moving and in fact his voice just spurred her, causing her to fight even harder. More pain graced her face as she moved her battered body. Tony wasn’t sure exactly how strong she actually was, but thought if she was working at full strength he wouldn’t have been able to stop her; suit or no. At least she wasn’t as severely injured as he thought because she was moving on her own.

“Peyton, you are okay. Look at me.” Her movements were becoming slow and held less momentum as she tired herself out. Sweat accumulated on her forehead and upper lip as her breaths became more laborious and shallow. After a few minutes her eyes started to clear and a glint of recognition crept into them. She looked at him with such an expression of relief, like he had just saved her. Tony swallowed and for a moment forced himself to stare into her eyes while she still wasn’t fully aware. To face everything that could have happened. He wasn’t a savior. It was his fault the kid was hurt. That she was there on the ground in pain. He turned away, unable to see into those eyes anymore. He needed to get away from here, couldn’t bear to face what he had done anymore.

He spoke firmly over the coms, “Get down here Happy. Yeah, it’s over. Gotta take the kid back. I can’t and I’m telling you to.”

A sound escaped the kid and he moved so he could look at her again. She stared for a second. Then smiled at him causing her lips to crack and blood to congeal in the crevices. A smile for him. She had no business looking at him, much less with a pleased expression. He had led her into this fight. Led a fifteen-year-old child into a fight with superhuman adults. All their provisions and safety measures didn’t mean shit when this was the result. “You promised me you wouldn’t fight, kid. I took you at your word.” He could see her trying to shrug, which caused his expression to sharpen. How could she be so nonchalant about it?

“I’m sorry Mr. Stark. I am, but I don’t regret it. You needed all the help you could get and I could give some, Sir. I wanted to.” She was so naive; Tony bet she didn’t even comprehend what could have occurred. Ant-Man hadn’t even been trying to knock her down at the moment and look at the results.  “Plus, I made that sick entrance. Did you see me take Mr. Captain America’s shield?” She had made a noise that kind of sounded like a laugh but just rattled around in her chest, turning into a violent cough. Her head thumped back to the ground and she winced at the feel of the gravel. He gathered her mask and silently lifted her head up a bit. Not an expert at hair he tried his best to gather it out of the way and tucked the folded mask where her head came into contact with the ground.

“Kid, I will never forget that. Friday got it all recorded and I will be watching it on repeat. You have. You should have listened to me.” No response. “Can you get up?” He held out his hand and prayed she could get up. Reaching in response, she grasped it tightly. So similar to how she did at the cafe where they first officially met. How long ago that day seemed and how shocked he had been upon meeting her. Over and over again she had proven to him not only that she was an amazing hero but also that she was just an all around good person. One that made Tony want to be better.

Over his coms he heard Rhodey yelling for backup and the sounds of the fight came through it, disintegrating the peaceful moment.  Reality came back to Tony and distracted as he was didn’t notice the slight flinch Peyton made when she stood up. He still had a fight to win. This wasn’t the end yet.

“Come on kid. Happy’s going to get you back home. I have to take care of some stuff here.” He made sure that she was standing and okay before blasting off. Not even letting himself look behind to make sure that she would find her way. Happy could find her, he told himself.

They were going after the Quinjet; they had to stop that plane. This was their last hope. He could feel the turbines pressure more closely now. The air gliding around his suit feeling heavier the faster he was going. Friday informed him that Falcon was on their tails but he wasn’t worried. Their main goal was in front of them. Almost there! Then he saw Rhodey falling from the sky. It wasn’t even a decision in Tony’s mind. He spun around and started flying full acceleration after him. Rhodey’s voice came over the coms, this time a heady panic was present. He pushed his suit even harder and he held his arms as tight as they could go against his body, trying to control the shaking.

Impact.

The earth spread out underneath the robust, silver suit, dust erupting from underneath and settling like a halo on the raised edges of the depression. Tony landed besides his friend leaving his own indentation and without thinking tore his friend’s mask off. Rhodey’s eyes were shut in what looked like a peaceful sleep. The only thing giving it away was the bruising around his nose and a trail of blood leaking from there and down the side of his face under his suit. The shaking in Tony’s hands became fiercer as he hastily gathered his vitals.

Heart rate was faint but still beating with major contusions and severe whiplash. And then the worst came. The words spinal cord injury appeared in front of him. A diagram came back showing some of the lumbar nerves highlighted; L2-L5 affected. Friday in her most clinical manner informed Tony of all the repercussions of such an injury could have. Paralysis was one of the words that Tony kept circling back to. Loss of function. Friday made sure the paramedics were on their way and he sat there, his friend in his arms.  

The doubts began to crowd around him, yelling their hateful words. What if he couldn’t fix this? He wasn’t god and there was only so much one man could do. What if this was the limit? What if this went too far and there was no way to help Rhodey? Oh, Rhodey. His best friend had always been there for him. Throughout it all Tony could always count on the man between the ups and downs, and there were a lot of downs. If nothing else in his life, this pushed him over the edge and he was sure his spot in hell was now cemented in stone.

Images came faster now and Tony’s worst fears came true before his eyes. A dark mahogany box sat at the end of an isle. People clad in black lined the pews and bowed their heads. The blurred images of two chocolate-eyed children, whom would never be, appeared before him. Their beautiful faces burning the accusations and sadness on the back of his eyes. Tony remained crouching in the dirt while the nameless children stared. Time seemed to slow for him as people rushed back and forth around the site. Medics came and with care pried his hands off of his friend and carried him from the ground. They put him on a stretcher and transported him out of his sight. Tony stayed there, kneeling in the dirt, arms at his side, fingers dragging in the earth. His arms empty now.

Tony’s mind was whirling not allowing the words to sink in past the tempest inside him. There was no way this could actually happen and to all people Rhodey. His Rhodey. What if it was worse than Friday had thought? He had to fix this, make sure Rhodey was okay. Tony could do anything. Fixing things was his thing. All he had to do was create another suit, another something to help his Rhodes out. He could do this. He had built his company up from something harmful. Had created the Iron Man suit inside a cave in the desert. If there was a way, Tony Stark could find it. A sob worked its way up his chest and droplets darkened the maroon color of the suit on his chest. He hadn’t realized it had started raining. His vision blurred and another sound came from him. As her wiped his face the metal on his gloves came back slick and he realized the droplets were coming from him. This was his entire fault.

He stood up then, the metal suit encasing his cracking knees and aching ribs, which both simultaneously protested the movement. His cheeks now tacky and dried up. First though, he needed to get to Rhodey and make sure he was going to be okay. Make sure he got the best medical attention. And then, once again, he had to get to work. The sky loomed closer as he fly upward. He programmed the autopilot and closed his eyes, seeking some peace from the giant war he had just created. He found none.

Thank you for reading! 

Chapter Eleven

[love-god-forever]

Reflection About Life: What Can Bring Us Real Happiness?

By Chen Jiaxi

Everyone wishes to have a successful life surrounded by others’ admiration and praise, and we throw everything into this pursuit. But few have ever reflected upon this: What can bring us real happiness? What is the most valuable thing we should pursue? This article will explore the meaning of life with you.

In order to be successful and lead a superior lifestyle, I, just like all my friends in my village, had been working hard to equip myself with various skills.

Several years later, we all grew up and had our own family and career. Among my friends, some had a company of their own, some bought a car worth millions and returned home a man of wealth, and some had carved out a place in their business. Yet compared with them, I just had a stable family and a pretty ordinary life with no fame, fancy car, or big mansion. Unwilling to be left behind, I then started up my own pig farming business.

Running this business in the beginning was really tough for me, but with the conviction that “No pain, no gain,” I didn’t surrender to the difficulties I was confronted with, but persisted in tending those little piglets from dawn till dark. After a period of hard work, I eventually became a well-known livestock raiser in the local place. Constant TV interviews, the government’s commendation, plus my friends’ flattery greatly satisfied my vanity.

However, misfortune came upon me unexpectedly. Frequent outbreaks of plague coupled with the rapid decline of the pork price made my business sink into slump. At the same time, I was diagnosed with thyroid tumor as a result of long-term fatigue and enormous pressure, which made my situation even worse. “I haven’t achieved something. Am I going to die like this?” I really couldn’t accept this fact. Yet in the face of the illness, I could do nothing but helplessly await the judgment of my destiny. Fortunately, my tumor was later diagnosed as benign. I told myself: Since I dodged a bullet this time, I will definitely have good fortune in the future. So I became more determined to carve out a career for myself.

Later, I got into direct sales business, where I saw some people who came from a lower level in society had overnight turned into “successful men” and gave lectures to thousands of people on the stage, surrounded by flowers and applause, looking so dazzling and brilliant. There I seemed to catch a glimpse of hope, feeling that success was beckoning to me ahead.

In the following days, I traveled around the country learning how to establish a new market in a strange place, how to build up friendships with people and win their trust. Even though sometimes the meeting I attended finished at midnight, I didn’t feel tired at all. I kept telling myself, “No pain, no gain.” After a year of hard effort, I finally managed to establish a team of my own. But at that time I was still not content with what I’d achieved, and continued striving for a higher position.

Finally, I had a bit of a name in this line of work, and was frequently invited to give lectures and share my experience in many places. Whenever I stood on the platform and saw the admiring gazes of hundreds or even thousands of people below, an unspeakable sense of contentment and achievement would well up in my heart. In that moment, I felt all the effort I had paid was worth it.

However, good time didn’t last long. Just as I was immersed in the joy of success, my team suddenly lost two markets, which meant all my previous effort was in vain. Unable to accept this fact, I locked myself in the room and burst out crying. I felt so exhausted that I really wanted to give up. Yet as I calmed down, I thought, “Over these years I’ve been working hard to accumulate experience. Am I gonna give up so easily? No, I cannot. I cannot just live a life so ordinary. I must pick myself up!”

Thereafter I started all over again. In order to broaden my connections and establish markets, I learned how to flatter and toady up to others and even stoop to compromise. Yet when I reestablished my markets, all this bitterness and suffering seemed to be cast into the back of my mind and I started setting higher goals and traveled around the world to study. During that time, I was designated by a top leader as director of the training center in Hong Kong.

As I was interacting with all kinds of higher-ups, all I saw was how they schemed and fought with each other for fame and fortune. I couldn’t help asking myself: I’ve always been striving for higher positions and greater interests, but what good is it even if I achieve my goal? Living in this society where the strong prey on the weak, could I keep my integrity? Is this what I really want, a life full of strife? Gradually, I grew tired of this kind of life, but in order to keep what I had owned, I had no choice but to force myself to hang in there. During that period, every day I returned home I felt weary and I kept asking myself: I’ve won others’ admiration and praise and lived an aristocratic life, but why don’t I feel any happiness or joy?

Finally one day, I found the answer in God’s word, which says, “So Satan uses fame and gain to control man’s thoughts until all they can think of is fame and gain. They struggle for fame and gain, suffer hardships for fame and gain, endure humiliation for fame and gain, sacrifice everything they have for fame and gain, and they will make any judgment or decision for fame and gain. In this way, Satan binds man with invisible shackles. These shackles are borne on people, and they have not the strength nor courage to throw them off. So people trudge ever onward in great difficulty, unknowingly bearing these shackles. For the sake of this fame and gain, mankind shuns God and betrays Him, and they become more and more wicked. In this way, therefore, one generation after another is destroyed in the fame and gain of Satan. Looking now at Satan’s actions, are its sinister motives abominable? Maybe today you still cannot see through Satan’s sinister motives because you think that there is no life without fame and gain. You think that, if people leave fame and gain behind, then they will no longer be able to see the way ahead, no longer be able to see their goals, their future becomes dark, dim and gloomy. But, slowly, you will all one day recognize that fame and gain are monstrous shackles that Satan uses to bind man. Until the day you come to recognize this, you will thoroughly resist Satan’s control and thoroughly resist the shackles Satan brings to bind you. When the time comes for you to wish to throw off all the things Satan has instilled in you, you will then make a clean break with Satan and will also truly loathe all that Satan has brought to you. Only then will you have a real love and yearning for God.”

After reading God’s words, I came to understand that pursuing fame and gain is walking on a wrong path and that fame and gain are shackles Satan uses to bind us. Satan plants these poisons deep within our hearts, such as “No pain, no gain,” “People struggle to go upward, but water flows downward,” and “Distinguish oneself to bring glory to family and ancestors,” so that more and more people take getting ahead of others and standing out from the crowd as the goals to pursue in life. In order to acquire fame and gain, they are willing to pay any price and in this pursuit they contend and fight with each other, so much so that they are becoming more and more evil and corrupt until they finally end up being devoured by Satan. I was just a living example. Deeply affected by this poison of Satan, “No pain, no gain,” I had been very arrogant and ambitious since I was a child, pursuing to be outstanding and bring glory to my family. I believed that such kind of life was honorable and most valuable. So when I saw people around me all led a superior life, I was not willing to fall behind them, and thus began to run a pig farm in the hope of being successful. Even when I ended up in failure and was afflicted by illness, I still didn’t give up my pursuit of fame and gain. When I saw those who came from the low level of society obtained both fame and gain in the direct sales business, I was consumed with envy and then threw myself into this field. In order to achieve success, I busied myself day and night with no regard for my health, and later I even abandoned my dignity as a man by bowing to others. The pain and suffering were really beyond telling. However, when I finally succeeded and gained others’ admiration and praise, I didn’t feel happy or joyful at all. It was then that I came to realize that fame and gain were traps Satan set for man. Even though I had gained them, they didn’t bring me happiness or joy but instead made me lose my direction and become more and more depraved. Realizing this, I no longer wanted to be deceived and afflicted by Satan, so I began to look for the right path in life.

Then I saw these words of God, “The first thing one must understand, when one sets foot on this earth, is where human beings come from, why people are alive, who dictates human fate, who provides for and has sovereignty over human existence. These are the true assets in life, the essential basis for human survival, not learning how to provide for one’s family or how to achieve fame and wealth, not learning how to stand out from the crowd or how to live a more affluent life, much less learning how to excel and to compete successfully against others.” “If one views life as an opportunity to experience the Creator’s sovereignty and come to know His authority, if one sees one’s life as a rare chance to perform one’s duty as a created human being and to fulfill one’s mission, then one will necessarily have the correct outlook on life, will live a life blessed and guided by the Creator, will walk in the light of the Creator, know the Creator’s sovereignty, come under His dominion, become a witness to His miraculous deeds and to His authority.”

Pondering God’s words, I came to understand that God bestowed life upon us and brought us into this world so that each of us can have the opportunity to experience His work and gain a clear understanding of His authority and sovereignty, and that it is also for us to bear witness for God to others and fulfill our duties as created beings. As a creation, I should pursue to know God and try my best to fulfill my duties, which is the only way for me to stay far from Satan’s harm and receive God’s blessings. And only living in this way has value and meaning. I thought of how, during the first half of my life, I didn’t have a knowledge of the Creator, and even less did I know where I came from or the meaning of life. As a result, I kept pursuing fame and gain and didn’t stop even when my health broke down. I always worried about gains and losses and lived in inescapable torment. Although in the end I acquired fame and gain and enjoyed a short period of satisfaction, in my heart I didn’t feel a hint of peace or joy, but instead I became more and more hypocritical, losing my dignity and integrity as a man. Every day I lived in the trickeries of Satan, feeling extremely miserable. I was very grateful to the guidance of God’s word, for it allowed me to find my direction in life.

Since then, I often gathered together with my brothers and sisters, we fellowshiped with each other about our own experiences and knowledge of God’s words, pursued the truth and sought to be honest people. Living a life like this gave me a kind of assuredness and peace I’d never felt before and I also gained the faith to follow God. Besides, I always had this feeling that I should preach God’s gospel to more people so that they could return before God and stay away from Satan’s affliction. So I later resigned my position as senior director. Though I’m no longer admired and praised by others and do not earn as much as before, I have more time to pursue the truth and fulfill my duties in the church. Every time I shared the testimony of God’s work of the last days with people around me and they accepted it, I would feel an inexpressible sense of contentment, thinking that I had done something most righteous, and I felt living like this was especially meaningful. It was God’s words that transformed my erroneous perspective of pursuing fame and gain, showed me the right direction in life and allowed me to understand the value and meaning of life. I thank God from the bottom of my heart!

[tancong]

Resharpened Blade

Sorry for not putting out any more of the usual content. I’ve been meaning to finish my League fic and get back into writing more gency but I still have a lot of summer classwork ... And this super cute couple of mine keeps distracting you. So please enjoy another short piece about them~

Word Count: 1929 Rating: General Audience Warnings: None Summary: After their reunion, both Alanea and Nyxorio find out that they had many things to reflect upon in both themselves and what they were going to be from now on. 

Alanea sighed as she finished her cup of tea, winding down after a long day. It was hard to believe that after all these years, she finally found him again. In the Void, no less. Granted, he was partially responsible for them getting injured trying to fight their way out of that hell hole. The combination of their Dark Star and Star Guardian auras apparently attracted the Voidlings, leading to a massive rush out of nowhere. It almost seemed like a miracle that they were still alive, albeit injured.

Or, well, Nyxorio was. He had insisted on healing her when they got back, simple and quick. She felt as good as new, with not even a single wound to show for the battle. As for him … Well, he couldn’t heal himself. He wouldn’t even let her repay the favor by bandaging him.

He made her curious. She knew that she wanted him, but for what reason? Did she just want to sleep with him, to get a chance to see the prowess that she could only imagine from all those years ago? Or was it to repay him for saving her life, no matter how little it may mean to him? If not … then what did she really want from him?

Having spent all this time wondering whether she would see him again, Alanea is confounded by the fact that she had no idea what to do now that he was right there in her house. Actually, why was he here? She had half-expected to have to convince him to stay, some way or another. Sure he was injured but couldn’t he have gone back with the other star guardians? She knew that those goody-two-shoes wouldn’t just leave him if he asked for help. Yet … He chose to be here. With her.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard a sound from downstairs. A frown came upon her expression as she drew her blades, walking downstairs without making a sound. Nyx was supposed to be sleeping, resting up from his wounds. In that case, there shouldn’t be anyone-

As she silently slid the door of her basement training hall open, Alanea blinked before sighing softly and sheathing her blades.

“Nyx, I thought we agreed that you needed to rest.”

The hologram of a Voidling found itself disintegrated as Nyx brought a dagger through it, another one in the near distance meeting the same fate as the other dagger flew through its body before being reeled back.

The simulation was stopped as Nyx turned to face Alanea. “Well, I do recall you telling me to do that and me agreeing. However, I have realized that my training would not impede my healing, so I figured I would get some done before going to sleep. As you recommended.”

Alanea sighed, she was not going to tolerate having to babysit this man, let alone having someone so reckless and stupid on her team. As much respect she had for him, if he didn’t concede then she’d have to reconsider her priorities. Was this how all Star Guardians were?

“Look, I don’t need you keeling over or being useless to me. I already have enough to deal wi-”

“So you want me to just sit back and do nothing after every mission? I refuse to let you just have to work to protect me when I came here to do the exact opposite.”

Alanea raised an eyebrow and placed her hands on her hips, “That is not what I meant. I meant that you should just rest for today and-”

“I’m tired of sitting around and doing nothing but worry about my own life.”

The change of tone in Nyx’s voice gave her a pause, bringing her eyes up to meet his. She saw there a flicker from his usual calm confidence, as if on the verge of giving away to something else.

“All my life, I’ve been fighting for myself and by myself. When I look back at the time I spent at the Star Guardian house, I keep asking myself, what was my purpose? Was this some sort of reward for my struggles in my past life? That I was supposed to just sit back and enjoy life now, just being a medic and forget about everything in the past?”

“The people I’ve met. The people I’ve murdered. The skills I’ve learned. The struggles I faced. They couldn’t all just accumulate to this. How could I live with myself, just sitting around doing nothing? With no true purpose.”

“Justice? Compassion? Love? Family? Companionship? Peace? I can’t pretend to just know what these things mean. And given everything I have done, learning these things would be more of a dream than defeating all the Voidlings in the universe.”

Alanea took a step toward him unconsciously. There was … a waver in his voice, a crack in his cool countenance that made her want to step closer. To make sure that he was alright. To get a chance to ... see the real him.

“If killing is all I can do, then if I can’t even properly do that without dying … Do I deserve to even live? All my life … I’ve only known how to fight. Even if this First Star decides to teach me how to heal … Are they asking me to reject my past? Everything that I am? Am I supposed to become worthless, unable to even defend the people that I am supposed to help? Just to wait for them to return, barely alive to my care?”

“If so, perhaps they’re right. I shouldn’t even deserve to fall in love and have a family. I don’t fight for justice or have compassion. I’d just be doing a job, sitting there, unfeeling and ignoring the people that are dead because I can’t do anymore. How could I live with that? I might as well be-”

Nyx paused as he found his head pulled into her chest. It was soft, a tender feeling that washed away his thoughts for a moment. He raised his hands to push her away, to distance himself from her in that moment of his weakness. Yet … his arms refused. His body refused. And so did his mind. How could he push her away, when she was the one who was so kind as to treat him, a useless and confused fool, to such a silent comfort. A comfort that she knew words couldn’t do to him. A comfort that no one else had ever given to him.

“I … When you had to cover me so much, refusing to let a single Voidling take me down even as we made our way out, I felt ashamed. That I had thought … I’d be the only to save you from your loneliness or foolishness. Yet, it was me who was holding you back … Endangering you needlessly … making assumptions that I had no right to make. When I realized that earlier … I just … wanted to prove to you … hell, maybe just myself, that I can fight. That I can be strong again … That the person you saw all those years ago didn’t truly die … That this second life and this gift .. won’t be wasted on a worthless soul.”

The hand on his head simply held him there, not stroking his hair. Alanea simply gazed down at his head, silent and with a soft but pondering expression as he moved just a bit, to meet her gaze for a moment before looking away.

“So … Just for today … Let me be selfish and reckless … just for a bit longer. Then, I’ll be sure to get rest and not be a burden to you.”

Alanea thought for a moment before letting out a soft sigh, letting him move properly away from her. She pursed her lips and looked at him for a moment before looking at the clock mounted on the wall. “Thirty minutes.”

Nyx nodded and took a moment to recompose himself as he stood up, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. And just like that, he started up the training program once more.

“Don’t worry about me. I promise I won’t make you worry about me any longer. I’ve already done more than enough of that.”

Alanea found herself a seat nearby, watching as he got in motion again. Her mind was a mess, wondering what she had just gotten herself into. Who was this man in front of her? What was she supposed to do with such information? Why was she so invested in him, out of all the men she could have in the world? Why would he entrust her, out of all the women in the world, with the information he just gave her?

Why did she have this feeling that something just changed between them? In them? Especially in him. Her eyes traced his motion as he concentrated on the simulation, not a single glance spared toward her direction. She watched as his attacks became more refined by the second, each of his motion finding their target more definitively. It’s as if his attacks had a purpose now. To strike, to kill, to protect.

All … for her.

Alanea smiled to herself, pushing away the thought. Hardly, why would he do such a thing for her? Even if he had told her all that, that did not mean that he thought anything more of her. Perhaps he would have done it for anyone, even that Star Guardian girl. Still … wasn’t it such a sweet thought to have?

Alanea found herself starting to move toward him as he got struck by a hologram, albeit not physically, and hurts himself by twisting his body too much to try and dodge. He fell to the ground, a red spot blossoming from the reopened wound under his shoulder bandage. However, before she could move any further, Nyx was already standing up again. After touching his shoulder gently, she watched as he put his injured arm behind his back and started up the simulation again, using only his other hand and the legs at his disposal.

“I promise I won’t make you worry about me any longer.”

She watched as he fought with all he could, his eyes sharpening with each blow as he found his next target. His strikes flowing through to the next, as they carved a new path in his life. His body glimmering with sweat, beads that washed away the regrets of his path to create a new man for the future.

At that moment, she caught herself thinking that, just perhaps, if this was what he truly wanted then she could follow him to the end of time to help him pursue his goal. She knew that he probably did not want that. Even so, if it’s within her power, she’d do it. Perhaps on the impossible and endless journey, she’ll find her own purpose. A purpose that would let her dance with him on the battlefield that was life. As fellow assassins, as comrades, as friends. And … perhaps, more.

As she left the room to prepare some tea and a snack to leave for Nyx after his exercise, she smiled gently to herself. After all, she was so looking forward to their reunion with the Star Guardians again. When they meet him next, they won’t just find a doctor. They’d find an assassin.

An assassin that, just perhaps, she could truly fall in love with.

[shingeki-no-scenarios]

Title: Goodbye, My Love

Characters: Marco Bott x Fem!OC

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Language, Depression, Attempted suicide, Self-harm

Summary: She had to say goodbye to her lover in the most difficult way.

A/N: Taken from this request :) This song gave me some inspiration to write this :D I hope you guys don’t find this weird and enjoy!!

“Hey... Marco... Is that you?”

He couldn’t believe the sight that laid before him– his best friend, Marco, was reduced into a decaying corpse. It was obvious that a titan attempted to eat him, but only got the right half of his face and body. His handsome and kind best friend, the one he could rely on for anything, is now gone. Never mind not having someone to listen to and believe in him, how would he explain this to his girlfriend? He wouldn’t want the sunny lady to see Marco like this, lest her light fades away.

“Whatcha got there, Kirstein? This entire place has dead bodies all over.” upon hearing a familiar female voice, panic surged through him. It was obvious that the love of Marco’s life was approaching him, and was about to come face to face with his remains.

“Nothing. I can handle it.” Jean replied gruffly, trying to hinder her view by stepping in front of her. She, on the other hand, remained stubborn and playfully shoved him to the side.

“I got it, Jean. Everyone knows I’m more capable of carrying a body.” she playfully chided. Her ability to keep her jolly and sunny disposition at a time like this was amazing, given that they were surrounded by death.

“Hey, I really think you should met me get this one.” his voice was laced with urgency, but it was only ignored. She continued to fight her way past him and eventually saw what Jean had been trying to hide.

“Marco?” she whispered. Though she refused to believe it, she had to. Her best friend and lover was gone now, and the promise of them leading humanity in victory, getting married, and raising three kids in Jinae was impossible to act on. He’s been dead and decaying for two days now, making it obvious that medical help was out of the question. Nothing can save him now.

She wanted to scream, cry, and hold his remains in her arms. She wanted to carry his body on her shoulders and pray that perhaps the medical team could do something. However, she stayed rooted to her spot, the light and life on her face slowly leaving her.

“Look, I’m really sorry. I tried to stop you from seeing this.” Jean placed a hand on her shoulder while the other lingered behind her, ready to catch her in the occasion that she faints. While he knew that he and the other trainees would have difficulty taking in Marco’s death, he couldn’t imagine the pain she was feeling. “Nothing’s going to be okay, but that’s temporary.” he hoped and prayed that his words would bring her comfort.

“No. I’m okay.” she harshly shrugged his hand off. “It’s fine.” she faced him, the stoic expression on her face sending chills down his spine. It felt like he was facing a different person– it wasn’t like her to be this serious and icy. Before he could retort, she moved forward to pick the body up and take it to the cart bound for the communal funeral pyre.

“Back to work, Kirstein. He’s not the last one.” her voice was flat and void of all emotion, making him even more anxious– of course she wouldn’t take his death well, but this was scary. In a split second, sunny disposition had been replaced with a dark cloud hovering above her.

She pressed a kiss on the back of his hand before piling him on top of the other corpses, taking a little bit of her time to take one last look at what remained of his face. He’s so handsome. Sniffing, she fought back the tears that threatened to fall and acted like nothing ever happened.

“Goodbye, my love.” she whispered.

––

She took one glance at her meal before lightly pushing the tray away and shaking her head.

“Again? Really?” Sasha groaned, hanging her head. "Look, I know that you’re on a diet but this is too much.” she added, hoping that it would convince the other lady to take a bite.

It’s been months, yet it has been difficult for the squad to get the girl to eat, talk, sleep, or even bathe. They lost count of how many pounds she’s shed and how many times Mikasa had to give her a bath. Surprisingly, nothing serious has happened to her health-wise, and they would find her having sudden surges of energy during missions that made her narrowly escape death, as if an invisible force pushed her to carry on.

“She’s not on a diet, Sasha. She’s fucking grieving.” Connie hissed, lightly kicking Sasha under the table to get her to keep quiet. Thankfully, she shut her mouth and minded her own meal. “Sorry about that.” he mumbled before shoving a piece of bread in his mouth.

Abruptly standing up, she ignored the comments made towards her and left the mess hall, making her way to the ladies’ toilets.

“Go follow her.” Eren muttered to Mikasa, worried that leaving the other girl alone would push her to do something unimaginable. Mikasa immediately stood up and quietly followed her, though her presence was left unacknowledged.

––

Glancing at the mirror, she noted how deep her cheeks have sunken in while her skin had accumulated an ugly gray undertone. What would Marco say if he saw how ugly I’ve become?, she thought as she ran her fingers through her brittle hair. Whatever, I wouldn’t have to deal with this any longer.

Shrugging off all thoughts, she carefully pulled out the pocket knife she has been hiding in her handkerchief. While its sharpness scared her, she knew that she had no other choice– if she wanted to see Marco again, this was the way to do it. With bated breath, she lifted the knife and hovered it over her left arm, angling it vertically knowing that it would be quicker that way. She let a tear fall from her eye whilst slowly lowering it towards her skin.

"Holy shit!” her moment was interrupted upon having a black cat jump from the window to the spot right in front of her. She dropped the knife in shock, stepping backwards clutching her chest afterwards to calm her racing heart.

The cat turned to face her, as if it wanted to make eye contact. She noted how its eyes were warm, brown and familiar– too familiar, in fact. Upon thinking of the only person who owned eyes like that, she felt a shiver down her spine as she backed away from the creature. The cat let out a rather fierce meow at her in return, before taking the knife by its handle and escaping through the window with it. While she wanted to run after it and get the knife back, it was way too fast and she couldn’t move due to shock.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Mikasa’s voice called out from the other side of the door. Hastily making her way to the door, she quickly cracked it open and threw herself on Mikasa, sobbing onto her shoulder. The other wrapped her arms around her, whispering words of comfort to pacify her.

Strangely enough, she felt like she was saved from what would have been a tragic incident.

––

“Get out of there, cadet! Retreat! Now!”

While her squad leader yelled with everything he had, she was unable to act on it and stood rooted to her spot. She could clearly see the 9 meter titan approaching her, drool spilling out of its mouth upon spotting her. It was obviously hungry, and its hunger would be satisfied once it gets a hold of her.

Despite the circumstances, she didn’t care. In fact, she wanted the titan to come and get her. That way, she could die the same way Marco did and perhaps reunited with him in the afterlife. How lovely, she thought, a small smile making its way to her lips.

“Have Eren’s suicidal tendencies rubbed off on you? Get out!” she heard Connie yell from a distance, running past her to retreat. She ignored him, however, and quickly put her blades back in their respective sheaths, ready to embrace death.

“Hey, baby.” a warm, soothing tone called out. The familiarity of the voice made every hair on her body stand up as she turned her head to the side to see the source. Alas, it was the person she has been wanting to see for years now– Marco. She immediately closed the gap between them and lost herself in his warm, bone-crushing embrace and let hear tears fall.

“Am I dead?” she managed to whisper through her tears of joy. She had been dying to join him as her life had become completely pointless without him, and she was happy that they were finally reunited.

“No, baby. I just decided to pay you a visit.” he muttered soothingly in her ear before pressing a kiss on her temple. “What are you doing?” his voice was laced with disappointment, making her ashamed of herself.

“I... I wanted to see you.” she replied in a shaky voice, obviously embarrassed at how upset he was because of her. “I thought that a life without you is not much of a life. I don’t want to live alone.” she added, glancing up at him and resting her cheek on his shoulder.

“No, no. That’s not the way to handle things. It’s selfish.” he gently reprimanded, looking down at her and smiling softly once they met eyes. “The people around you still love you, and they truly care for you. Do you know that?” upon seeing her gently shake her head, he chuckled and placed on hand on her hair to stroke it. “Your parents, your friends, and even our fellow cadets will be a wreck without you.”

“You have a point there.” she mumbled, feeling stupid for trying to take her own life. At this point, she was thankful that the titan moved slowly as it gave her a chance to turn back.

“I want you to keep on living.” he said, lifting her spirits. “I want you to keep on living for yourself. There are so many great things waiting for you out there. Life is so beautiful.” he muttered into her ear before gently kissing her forehead.

“Thank you, Marco... Thank you.” she replied, feeling her tears fall faster down her face. “I promise you, I will. Just... Just let me know you’re still there.” she begged, to which he nodded and assured her that he’s been watching over her all along. She gave him one last hug and pressed a kiss on his lips before unsheathing her blades.

“Now, go get that titan!” he ruffled her hair exactly the way he used to, smiling upon seeing the light and life return to her face. “I love you so much.” he smiled warmly at her, brown eyes glittering with sincerity. 

“I love you too, Marco.” she replied sweetly. Looking back, she saw that titan hasn’t made much progress, thus giving her enough time to retreat. Smiling at him one last time, she quickly ran away from the titan and from him.

“See you soon, my love.” he whispered.

[fear-god-shun-evil]

Reflections on Life: What Is Happy Life?

By Chen Jiaxi, Hong Kong

Everyone wishes to have a successful life surrounded by others’ admiration and praise, and we throw everything into this pursuit. But few have ever reflected upon this: What can bring us real happiness? What is the most valuable thing we should pursue? This article will explore the meaning of life with you.

In order to be successful and lead a superior lifestyle, I, just like all my friends in my village, had been working hard to equip myself with various skills.

Several years later, we all grew up and had our own family and career. Among my friends, some had a company of their own, some bought a car worth millions and returned home a man of wealth, and some had carved out a place in their business. Yet compared with them, I just had a stable family and a pretty ordinary life with no fame, fancy car, or big mansion. Unwilling to be left behind, I then started up my own pig farming business.

Running this business in the beginning was really tough for me, but with the conviction that “No pain, no gain,” I didn’t surrender to the difficulties I was confronted with, but persisted in tending those little piglets from dawn till dark. After a period of hard work, I eventually became a well-known livestock raiser in the local place. Constant TV interviews, the government’s commendation, plus my friends’ flattery greatly satisfied my vanity.

However, misfortune came upon me unexpectedly. Frequent outbreaks of plague coupled with the rapid decline of the pork price made my business sink into slump. At the same time, I was diagnosed with thyroid tumor as a result of long-term fatigue and enormous pressure, which made my situation even worse. “I haven’t achieved something. Am I going to die like this?” I really couldn’t accept this fact. Yet in the face of the illness, I could do nothing but helplessly await the judgment of my destiny. Fortunately, my tumor was later diagnosed as benign. I told myself: Since I dodged a bullet this time, I will definitely have good fortune in the future. So I became more determined to carve out a career for myself.

Later, I got into direct sales business, where I saw some people who came from a lower level in society had overnight turned into “successful men” and gave lectures to thousands of people on the stage, surrounded by flowers and applause, looking so dazzling and brilliant. There I seemed to catch a glimpse of hope, feeling that success was beckoning to me ahead.

In the following days, I traveled around the country learning how to establish a new market in a strange place, how to build up friendships with people and win their trust. Even though sometimes the meeting I attended finished at midnight, I didn’t feel tired at all. I kept telling myself, “No pain, no gain.” After a year of hard effort, I finally managed to establish a team of my own. But at that time I was still not content with what I’d achieved, and continued striving for a higher position.

Finally, I had a bit of a name in this line of work, and was frequently invited to give lectures and share my experience in many places. Whenever I stood on the platform and saw the admiring gazes of hundreds or even thousands of people below, an unspeakable sense of contentment and achievement would well up in my heart. In that moment, I felt all the effort I had paid was worth it.

However, good time didn’t last long. Just as I was immersed in the joy of success, my team suddenly lost two markets, which meant all my previous effort was in vain. Unable to accept this fact, I locked myself in the room and burst out crying. I felt so exhausted that I really wanted to give up. Yet as I calmed down, I thought, “Over these years I’ve been working hard to accumulate experience. Am I gonna give up so easily? No, I cannot. I cannot just live a life so ordinary. I must pick myself up!”

Thereafter I started all over again. In order to broaden my connections and establish markets, I learned how to flatter and toady up to others and even stoop to compromise. Yet when I reestablished my markets, all this bitterness and suffering seemed to be cast into the back of my mind and I started setting higher goals and traveled around the world to study. During that time, I was designated by a top leader as director of the training center in Hong Kong.

As I was interacting with all kinds of higher-ups, all I saw was how they schemed and fought with each other for fame and fortune. I couldn’t help asking myself: I’ve always been striving for higher positions and greater interests, but what good is it even if I achieve my goal? Living in this society where the strong prey on the weak, could I keep my integrity? Is this what I really want, a life full of strife? Gradually, I grew tired of this kind of life, but in order to keep what I had owned, I had no choice but to force myself to hang in there. During that period, every day I returned home I felt weary and I kept asking myself: I’ve won others’ admiration and praise and lived an aristocratic life, but why don’t I feel any happiness or joy?

Finally one day, I found the answer in God’s word, which says, “So Satan uses fame and gain to control man’s thoughts until all they can think of is fame and gain. They struggle for fame and gain, suffer hardships for fame and gain, endure humiliation for fame and gain, sacrifice everything they have for fame and gain, and they will make any judgment or decision for fame and gain. In this way, Satan binds man with invisible shackles. These shackles are borne on people, and they have not the strength nor courage to throw them off. So people trudge ever onward in great difficulty, unknowingly bearing these shackles. For the sake of this fame and gain, mankind shuns God and betrays Him, and they become more and more wicked. In this way, therefore, one generation after another is destroyed in the fame and gain of Satan. Looking now at Satan’s actions, are its sinister motives abominable? Maybe today you still cannot see through Satan’s sinister motives because you think that there is no life without fame and gain. You think that, if people leave fame and gain behind, then they will no longer be able to see the way ahead, no longer be able to see their goals, their future becomes dark, dim and gloomy. But, slowly, you will all one day recognize that fame and gain are monstrous shackles that Satan uses to bind man. Until the day you come to recognize this, you will thoroughly resist Satan’s control and thoroughly resist the shackles Satan brings to bind you. When the time comes for you to wish to throw off all the things Satan has instilled in you, you will then make a clean break with Satan and will also truly loathe all that Satan has brought to you. Only then will you have a real love and yearning for God.”

After reading God’s words, I came to understand that pursuing fame and gain is walking on a wrong path and that fame and gain are shackles Satan uses to bind us. Satan plants these poisons deep within our hearts, such as “No pain, no gain,” “People struggle to go upward, but water flows downward,” and “Distinguish oneself to bring glory to family and ancestors,” so that more and more people take getting ahead of others and standing out from the crowd as the goals to pursue in life. In order to acquire fame and gain, they are willing to pay any price and in this pursuit they contend and fight with each other, so much so that they are becoming more and more evil and corrupt until they finally end up being devoured by Satan. I was just a living example. Deeply affected by this poison of Satan, “No pain, no gain,” I had been very arrogant and ambitious since I was a child, pursuing to be outstanding and bring glory to my family. I believed that such kind of life was honorable and most valuable. So when I saw people around me all led a superior life, I was not willing to fall behind them, and thus began to run a pig farm in the hope of being successful. Even when I ended up in failure and was afflicted by illness, I still didn’t give up my pursuit of fame and gain. When I saw those who came from the low level of society obtained both fame and gain in the direct sales business, I was consumed with envy and then threw myself into this field. In order to achieve success, I busied myself day and night with no regard for my health, and later I even abandoned my dignity as a man by bowing to others. The pain and suffering were really beyond telling. However, when I finally succeeded and gained others’ admiration and praise, I didn’t feel happy or joyful at all. It was then that I came to realize that fame and gain were traps Satan set for man. Even though I had gained them, they didn’t bring me happiness or joy but instead made me lose my direction and become more and more depraved. Realizing this, I no longer wanted to be deceived and afflicted by Satan, so I began to look for the right path in life.

Then I saw these words of God, “The first thing one must understand, when one sets foot on this earth, is where human beings come from, why people are alive, who dictates human fate, who provides for and has sovereignty over human existence. These are the true assets in life, the essential basis for human survival, not learning how to provide for one’s family or how to achieve fame and wealth, not learning how to stand out from the crowd or how to live a more affluent life, much less learning how to excel and to compete successfully against others.” “If one views life as an opportunity to experience the Creator’s sovereignty and come to know His authority, if one sees one’s life as a rare chance to perform one’s duty as a created human being and to fulfill one’s mission, then one will necessarily have the correct outlook on life, will live a life blessed and guided by the Creator, will walk in the light of the Creator, know the Creator’s sovereignty, come under His dominion, become a witness to His miraculous deeds and to His authority.”

Pondering God’s words, I came to understand that God bestowed life upon us and brought us into this world so that each of us can have the opportunity to experience His work and gain a clear understanding of His authority and sovereignty, and that it is also for us to bear witness for God to others and fulfill our duties as created beings. As a creation, I should pursue to know God and try my best to fulfill my duties, which is the only way for me to stay far from Satan’s harm and receive God’s blessings. And only living in this way has value and meaning. I thought of how, during the first half of my life, I didn’t have a knowledge of the Creator, and even less did I know where I came from or the meaning of life. As a result, I kept pursuing fame and gain and didn’t stop even when my health broke down. I always worried about gains and losses and lived in inescapable torment. Although in the end I acquired fame and gain and enjoyed a short period of satisfaction, in my heart I didn’t feel a hint of peace or joy, but instead I became more and more hypocritical, losing my dignity and integrity as a man. Every day I lived in the trickeries of Satan, feeling extremely miserable. I was very grateful to the guidance of God’s word, for it allowed me to find my direction in life.

Since then, I often gathered together with my brothers and sisters, we fellowshiped with each other about our own experiences and knowledge of God’s words, pursued the truth and sought to be honest people. Living a life like this gave me a kind of assuredness and peace I’d never felt before and I also gained the faith to follow God. Besides, I always had this feeling that I should preach God’s gospel to more people so that they could return before God and stay away from Satan’s affliction. So I later resigned my position as senior director. Though I’m no longer admired and praised by others and do not earn as much as before, I have more time to pursue the truth and fulfill my duties in the church. Every time I shared the testimony of God’s work of the last days with people around me and they accepted it, I would feel an inexpressible sense of contentment, thinking that I had done something most righteous, and I felt living like this was especially meaningful. It was God’s words that transformed my erroneous perspective of pursuing fame and gain, showed me the right direction in life and allowed me to understand the value and meaning of life. I thank God from the bottom of my heart!