#all the things john overcame to get back to his family and take care of them and be the father he never had. ❤️‍🩹

[impala1967dwinchester]

Hello I just wanted to say ur amazing writer and I was wondering if I can request Winchester brother x sister reader where the reader is the youngest Winchester maybe around 16- 17 you can choose the fits but I was hoping u can do like where the reader is depressed and has ED (eating disorder ) and doesn’t tell the brothers and one day it gets worse and passed out the brothers are worried trying to help her out but it hard for her I hope this ok if not I can do different request it just I found comfort in angst topics with struggles I go through you know sorry if this doesn’t makes sense

It started years ago. To be exact it started when your father lost it, going mental on your oldest brother Dean. The three of you were thick as thieves and it physically hurt to see the complete and utter destruction your father left behind for Dean to clean up.

Living your life on the road was okay, you had two great older brothers that kept you up. Kept you in good spirits but it's hard when your whole world around you is crashing. You know it, your family knows but no one else.

How Dean and Sam ever dealt with the massive weight on their shoulders. It blew your mind. You. You weren't worth anything, especially not your mother burning on the ceiling. Your father resented you. You didn't need him to say it, because you could tell. Dean was his soldier, Sam was the disappointment, but the smartest out of the three of you. But you, you were the reason all four of you were in this mess. The reason why John was searching for that revenge every day.

Covering it up with the idea of saving people, but you were smart, so very smart. Sam had complimented you many times on your quickness, and sharpness when it came to the lore, but regarding your father, it was never the approval you were looking for.

Lots of things happened, to get you to the age of seventeen and drowning in the pit of your stomach all because you all no desire to be here anymore. You weren't helping your older brothers you were just in the way.

In the way of progress, a major setback to them. For them to prove to John that they would be like him, do like him. They'd have to leave you behind. It was for the best.

It started off as a way to conserve the little food the four of you had. At the ripe age of seven you learned quickly that offering your food to Sam was a better idea, or skipping off to lay in a shitty motel bed was better than eating. Yes your stomach would growl and the acid would burn, but anything to keep the weight of your brother off your shoulders.

As you grew up you learned that if you stayed at school as long as you could it was the best. Dean had just learned how to drive driving was his passion, reading was Sam. And yours... yours was to stay away, out of the way.

By the age of fifteen, you had your patterned packed down and tight. You leave with Sam since he drove you to school, and since he was a senior. You felt a wave of dizziness almost every morning. The night's dinner is still wrapped in its paper bag. Claiming to take it for lunch. Dean never argued with you. Kiss your forehead and hitting the pillow quicker than he hit on the girls that passed by the motel's door.

Your father was already starting to become absent. The shadow of what a perfect family no one ever talked about. You thrived in the school building though. Sam kissed your forehead his height greatly giving him the advantage before saying his goodbyes to you and running to meet with his senior friends.

You walked alone in the hallways. The bullying started almost immediately the second you stepped into the building. Near of my brothers were aware of the shit I went through on a daily basis. Years later they still weren't.

You had settled on never telling them about my dislike for eating, you hoped and prayed most night that they'd never find out. It was better without their acknowledgment of your weakness. Who knows they might be the same way everyone was at school.

The last year had been hard for you and your brothers, your father making less, and less of an effort with all three of you. Your relationship was already straining to stay alive, the burning and hurt in the bit of your stomach was something that was constant now, and from what you could tell it wasn't going to get any better.

Your brothers are now in their early 20's still taking care of their baby sister. Nights you guys sat down for dinner were odd, without John there. The quiet days where a now older Sam would drive you to school, along by yourself all day long. The teasing being relentless.

The whole idea, you were constantly dizzy, constantly on the verge of falling asleep no matter if you were in class, or at the crappy motel room with your brothers.

Tonight though, tonight your world fell apart as you walked in through the door, your final year of schooling was just starting your summer of staying inside and reading was over. The hot day of September had gotten to you more than you were willing to say. As you walked in through the motel door, the cool air hitting you in your face, and the hot air of the evening summer day kicking you in your ass.

It was too much, down you and your light bookbag went. Dean had been on one of the motels' beds when he heard you fall, Sam behind hadn't been able to catch you even with his long arms.

You don' remember much. You do remember hearing the sounds of your brothers frantically rushing around the room, one dropping his gun, and the other rushing over to your side.

"Dean what the hell just happened?" Sam asked in a frantically worried voice. "I don't know all I heard was the engine of Baby, and then her fall to the floor," Dean said rushing to your thin frame. Neither had noticed until now when they finally had time to pay attention to their baby sister that she was rather thinner than a normal seventeen-year-old.

Paler then normal, "Sam do you notice it?" Dean asked as Sam pulled the lightweight bookbag from your small shoulders. A small hum came from Sams's lips, maybe it was too much to say it. The words making truth when they leave his lips.

Sam picked you up feeling just how boney you were. "How did we let her get this bad Dean?" He questioned, Dean kept his head down grabbing her bag and following behind Sam to the bed's side.

When you woke up your two brothers were talking quietly in the tiny kitchen. Sam saw you try to get up their conversation stopped at a halt, and they both came over to help you.

Quiet overcame the room. Dean was the first to speak. "How are you feeling, Y/n?" He asked, you shrugged your shoulders, the ache in your body was strong, but not enough to make that your brother's problems.

"Y/n please be honest with us... Is this the first time something like this has happened?" Your brother Sam asked. Swallowing hard, before talking you answered Dean's question. "I feel fine guys really nothing to worry about." Answering Sams was going to be harder, you don't really remember the last time something like this happened, maybe last week in school, maybe a few years ago. "I don't remember Sam." That was all you said. Sad expression littered their coarse and worn faces.

"Y/n, how long have been like this?" Dean asked, furrowed brows as he asked the question. "Like what?" You replied. "Like how you don't eat at dinner and think we don't notice, how long Y/n? Just answer please." Dean said.

You tried opening your mouth, but the pressure of being truthful with your brothers was overbearing. Trying again and still, nothing slipped out. Sam ur interrupted your train of thought. "Since dad started on with his hunt for yellow eyes?" Simple questions always have a simple answer.

"If you want an honest answer I'd say seven or eight." You said, pushing yourself up from laying in the bed to sitting up against the headboard. The gasps for air were real between your two brothers. One hand came to rest on top of yours while the other paced around the motel room.

Your guess as to which was mad, and empathic wasn't hard for you. Dean pacing around the room meant he was angry, and Sam's empathic hand on top of yours meant he to wanted help. "Why didn't you tell us?" Dean questioned me, Sam turned to look at his older brother. "That won't help, we were talking remember. We need to help her, bot questions her about her actions or even her reason why." Sam said, Dean, calm down as he continued to pace.

Sam returned his attention to you. Hand still laying on top of yours, "Y/n why don't we, all the three of us help you yeah?" He said you laughed a little and Dean looked up from his pacing feet. "I don't think you guys could ever help me. I've been and felt this way for ten years now. This is just how I am now. Broken and worthless to this Winchester family." You said the strain of holding back was harder than you thought. Dean had paused his pacing staring at you and Sams's hand had engulfed yours.

Dean came over, putting his finger under your chin, grabbing your attention. "You listen here, to Sam and I. We care more about you than you'll ever know. We don't care what any person thinks, we don't care about Dad as much as we care about our little sister. Now believe me when we say that all we want to do is help you, helping you is what Sam and I are here for. Y/n you aren't alone, you aren't, worthless, and you most definitely aren't broken. We can help you all you have to do is let us in." Dean said sitting down next to you when he was down.

"We love you and don't wanna see so much potential be wasted especially when we knew we could have helped you," Sam added. You were having a hard time believing them, but nothing would stop you from trying especially when you had your brothers by your side.

[asphodel-storm]

So. If Cobra Kai were DC.

First off, the man who is the source of most problems, John Kreese:

Kreese’s mentor was an agent of the League of Shadows/Assassins planted within the military. Kreese was invited to take his place after his death. He trained with Ra’s al Ghul after the war and then left to found Cobra Kai as a covert recruitment operation for the League (not every Cobra alum became an assassin, only the ones Kreese saw that potential in). Johnny was on the path to recruitment and it was the loss against Daniel and resulting fallout that changed that. Kreese has been on League business every time he’s been ‘dead’. 

Mr. Miyagi:

Mr. Miyagi was a Green Lantern. The ring chose him a while after he received his medal of honor and he was protecting the universe secretly during the Karate Kid movies. When Daniel overcomes his fear in TKK 3, Miyagi retires and the ring chooses Daniel.

Daniel LaRusso:

Daniel was a Green Lantern for years (a secret from everyone except Amanda and Miyagi), but the lantern’s power never replaced karate for him because karate is part of the balance that allows him to use the ring in the first place. The ring started to reject him during the period where his resentment of Johnny was overpowering his will (season 1-ish). It chose him again when he got a handle on that, but by then he had already turned his attention to teaching and empowering young people. He gave it up and it chose his daughter after she overcame her own fear at the end of season 3.

Samantha LaRusso

Samantha LaRusso was chosen by a Green Lantern ring after overcoming her fear and facing Tory at the end of season 3. She enters season 4 as a newly minted super hero. 

Tory Nichols 

Tory witnesses Sam as a Green Lantern early on. She has a lot of anger inside of her and seeing her rival - the girl who in her opinion was handed everything in life - chosen by cosmic power pushes her over the edge. Kreese encourages and feeds this anger, of course, though he does it with the intention of making Tory a better assassin. When a Red Lantern power ring chooses her that’s honestly a bonus. 

Johnny Lawrence 

Johnny was nearly recruited to the League of Assassins as a teenager - he would have been shipped off to official league training after highschool if he hadn’t lost to Daniel (and, likely, if Kreese hadn’t impulsively burned that bridge before remembering the larger plan). Instead, he was approached by the representative of an anonymous east coast billionaire after high school and paid to use his connection to the ‘late’ John Kreese  - and pre-assassin training - to infiltrate and sabotage some activities the League of Shadows had going in the Valley. He never learned the full extent of what the League was or his or Kreese’s connections to it during this time (like, he probably could have if he’d tried, but he’s Johnny). He was inconsistent at best in his vigilantism after that, putting on a mask and patrolling more when he needed an outlet than based on the needs of the community. He was briefly the ‘Batman of the Valley’ when Batman first franchised out into Batman Inc. He’d given that up for years by the time he met Miguel, but dusts off his cape when he learns of new League operations in the Valley in season 4 (likely being run by Terry Silver). 

His ‘cape’ is actually a red leather bodysuit. He definitely calls himself something like DeathFist or DeathFang or whatever in the long tradition of people in red bodysuits being called stuff like that (DeadShot, DeathStroke, etc.). 

Miguel Diaz

Miguel will hit the streets patrolling with his mentor, but the transition to vigilantism also hits him at a time when he’s realized he probably shouldn’t have Johnny on such a pedestal so he’ll also use the opportunity to strike out alone or with friends. The transition also comes at a time when Miguel has noticed certain changes about himself he can’t explain - like how he destroyed Demetri’s tv with lasers that shot out of his eyes when he got a bit too competitive about Mario Cart.

Yeah, the bad man Carmen moved them to escape was not connected to organized crime. He wasn’t Terry Silver. He was General freaking Zod. Why does General Zod live in Ecuador? He’s building up forces there. Anyways, Miguel is half Kryptonian and just awakening to his powers since his body has been healing from the school fight. The injury was a kind of catalyst and as he heals he’s also becoming invulnerable. So much for his rivalry with Robby, right? Nope, that’s still on. 

Robby Keene

Kreese thinks a mistake he made with Johnny was not bringing him into the fold sooner and getting him excited about the prospect of the League of Shadows. He knows very well that Robby will march out of Cobra Kai forever if he mentions anything about assassins before he’s ‘ready’, but he does start letting him know about the secret society of warriors and introduce him to some alumni who are with the league now. Maybe show off some missions where they actually intervened for good. Essentially, he makes him feel like he could be part of something - something that feels like family - which is bigger than himself (which is already an established part of his schtick). 

As part of this pre-assassin buttering up, Kreese procures something special for Robby - gloves laced with kryptonite. He told him it would only level the playing field between him and Miguel, but it is enough to weaken Miguel enough to be killed. The plan is for Robby to go in thinking ‘Miguel is pretty much indestructible even with these gloves’ so he goes all out and kills him and then while he’s dealing with the trauma of having killed him Kreese can pull him fully into the League. While the plan won’t work, the path to it will see Robby getting a lot more weapons/assassin-specific training than Johnny did.

He will eventually take over Johnny’s suit and code name.

Eli ‘Hawk’ Moskowitz

Kreese’s plan for Robby is a more elaborate and thought out version of his original plan for Hawk. Hawk was never really a top priority for Kreese, but he spiraled so nicely that it seemed he could be plucked off into assassin-dom early. He saw Tory and Robby as better prospects than Hawk for long term use in the valley in part because he expected to have Hawk shipped off to train under Lady Shiva by now. He just had to rip the murder bandaid, and the plan was to push him until he killed Demetri. 

Because Hawk was on the fast track, and because he was so good at convincing himself he didn’t care what he’d done to Demetri’s arm, Kreese actually already let him in on the true nature of Cobra Kai. He didn’t know for long before leaving and its not like he had any strategically vital info, but he knows enough to make him a loose end. Kreese sends the Cobras (minus Robby, but possibly including a Tory who isn’t quite used to her new power yet) after him. Hawk is murdered. And isn’t that a waste? 

Kreese set it up, but when the likes of Tory and Robby almost leave over it he pins it on Kyler ‘going overboard’ and says it’s fine, they can save him. Hawk gets thrown in a Lazarus Pit and rises confused and angry. Under the grips of Pit Madness he temporarily forgets a lot (like leaving Cobra Kai and reconciling with Demetri and Miguel, but also things like his parents. Kid is a very angry blank slate.) and since most people think he’s dead its pretty easy to send him to the League. He’ll turn up again a few months later, when the League sends a squad to secure their interests in the valley. He breaks off when he can’t quite kill Demetri in a fight, but he doesn’t remember why and roams around the valley causing trouble or helping out as he sees fit until Demetri can get through to him (Demetri’s eternal struggle). 

He doesn’t call himself Red Hood, but you get the gist. Hawk is already a code name. 

Demetri [Insert Surname]

Got Eli back only to lose him for good. He thought. Until Not-Red Hood shows up and causes problems. But the slippery assassin keeps getting away before he can really talk to him! Miguel is steadily developing Super Powers and wants to help, but things are also heating up over in the Main Conflict and Demetri is left chasing Hawk alone a lot of the time. 

Maybe it’s that determination that causes his latent metagene to activate. 

Demetri only ever thought super speed was the second best superpower, but he rethinks that after he has it. In hindsight, his smart ass does fit the speedster profile and Eli definitely can’t get away now! 

His lightning when he runs is blue.

And yep, that’s all for now. I’ll never write a fic for this ‘verse it’s just fun to think about. More so about how after the San Fernando branch of the League of Shadows is destroyed the kids can all make up and form a cool super team. Also, if I were to write fic, it would be Demeli. As I'm sure anyone I've interacted with in this fandom knows.

[byorder-fanfic]

A Ghost Walked Through the Door

Summary: Anna Gray has been looking for her brother for a very long time.

Word count: 2637

Warnings: Mention of foster care and children taken from parents, swearing, implies abuse from Church (nothing explicit) and implies homelessness/ rough childhood.

Author’s Note: In the show, Anna’s age is all over the place so I’ve decided that she is a year older than Michael (born in 1902) because I really like the older sister dynamic. Hope you enjoy xx

Anna stood outside the wooden gate, staring into the typical country garden: green grass (that surely would've been vivid in any other season but the grey winter) that stretched as far as she could see, and slap bang in the middle of it all was the little brick cottage. The fire was lit. Perhaps he was there, the person she had been searching for as long as she escaped the boat. Perhaps this was it- the day she found herself. Her shaking hands did not reach to open up the gate. Not yet. The rusted old car of Jack Low's had clunked its way down the dirt road many minutes ago, leaving behind a trail of smoke and her. She was lucky she had found someone to drive all the way to the front gate, and Jack was quite kinder than she'd expected when she saw the white-haired bloke. It was because of the fur lining her throat and wrists, the newly gained winter's coat showing off a majesty of wealth she did not have. If Jack had noticed the thick chunk of mud clinging to the bottom of her leather boots, or had he clued on to her makeup less face behind her slick bob and fringe, or even saw the dimness of the plastic beads as she rolled them between her calloused fingers, he hadn't asked. Thankfully. Maybe Michael would- he'd probably be impressed with her finery, especially if the farm life was all he knew, and then he'd probably be a bit disappointed with how she acquired each luxurious item.  Finally, her hand (pale and shaking with more than nerves- why hadn't she taken Alberta's gloves that she'd had her eye on?) pried open the gate with a creak, as she walked into the garden. The sound of her quickening breath thrummed in her ears as she kept on going, heels clacking and tangling in the field. She made it to the door. Laughter boomed inside- could it be Michael's? Eagerness overcame her as she rapped on the door, politeness replaced with loud booming knocks that scraped her already bruised knuckles. The voices quieted, a quick "I'll get it!" from a woman. Michael's foster mother, perhaps, would she let Anna see him? The weight of a knife in her pocket proved that hypothetical pointless. Heels tapped closer. And closer. And- the door swung open, Anna's heart nearly burst. She was a portly woman, a warm smile on her face as she observed the girl with evident surprise. "Hello there, can I help you?" She asked kindly, hand still on the door frame. "Yes, please." Her eyes flickered behind her, where photos lined the walls, but she couldn't make out the one face she needed. "Are you Mrs James?" She nodded, yes she was. Another breath fell from her, a smile curling on her lips. The nun hadn't lied, then. "I'm looking for Mich- Henry, I mean. Henry Johnson. Your son, I believe." The other name still seemed so wrong on her tongue. Mrs Johnson's face fell, sadness and suspicion souring the woman's once kind expression. "It's Michael Gray now," she spat out. "Those Shelby bastards took him back to Birmingham with them." Anna breathed in deeply- her entire family was reconciled, all but her. Surely, if they found Michael, that meant they knew about the documents. Fuck. "When was this?" Her voice was meek. Maybe she could stop any real damage before it was done, stop Michael and her mother from mourning a girl still alive. "Two years ago," she said in a solemn voice, her eyes growing glassy. "Why?" "I'm Anna Gray," she stuck out her hand. Mrs Johnson hesitantly accepted it, eyes wide again in shock. "I'm looking for my brother." "Don't." She shook her head. "Those Shelbys are the devils, dragging my boy," she paused, "my Henry, into their Peaky Blinders nonsense. Your Michael...he isn't that boy any more." "He's my brother," she said, trying not to feel too offended at the disgust directed at her cousins. "He's all I have." "Very well," Mrs Johnson conceded, although obviously still disapproving from the look in her eyes. Motherly, Anna would call it, if she even remembered what having a mother was like. "They live in Watery Lane, Small Heath. Everyone there knows them, so just ask for directions." "Thank you!" Without entirely thinking it through, Anna pulled the older woman into a quick hug, pulling away when she felt her tense. "And thank you for looking after my brother all these years. It's good to know he had a good woman taking care of him." She couldn't call Mrs Johnson a mother, although she knew from the grief in her tone and photographs still hung up, that she was exactly that. But her mother was still alive- her loyalty was to Elizabeth Gray, first and foremost, even if she felt pity for this woman here. Just as Mrs Johnson had said, directions to the Shelby's betting shop (now Shelby Company Limited, she was impressed to hear) were easy to come by. Although she was getting odd looks from the men in uniform caps and coats, who were obviously comparing her clothes with that of most Small Heath citizens. Her years of searching were finally over and yet she couldn't find herself to knock on the bloody door. Or even walk down the bloody street. She loitered around the Church, not daring to go in, but not straying from its sight. The rosary in her pocket was wrapped loosely around her battered fist, as she uttered a silent prayer. The nuns and priests from the orphanage had jaded her to all things Christian, but this was a gift from Peggy. The good Catholic girl that took one look at the girl on the streets and decided to befriend her. Well, friend wasn't exactly the right word. She felt a burst of courage at the feeling of the wooden beads now, the crucifix hanging on the end of it no longer bringing vomit up her throat. "Oi, you there!" She jumped at the accent. It wasn't Brummie, sounding closer to Isabela's voice: another girl that friend wasn't the right word for. She looked at the boy, who was lighter skinned that Isabela, and wore the same cap and coat of many men in Small Heath. However, he himself couldn't have been older than Anna. "You coming in, or am I allowed to lock up?" "I'm just leaving," she said. Her voice wasn't from Burmingham either, immediately making the other boys eyebrow to shoot up in suspicion. She didn't really have an accent, just a blend of all the places she'd been and all the people she'd ran from. Despite her statement, her shoes stayed firmly on the path. Michael and mum were just a walk away, and she was stuck outside the Church as the boy faffed with the keys.  "So," he came up behind her, tilting his head. "Just leaving anytime soon, or...?" He had a smirk on his face and a teasing glint in his eyes, that immediately took in her appearance with curiosity, stopping at the rosary. "Just getting courage," she held up the beads before putting them back in her pocket, tapping over it to make sure it was safely in. "Whatdya need courage for?" He asked as he lit up a cigarette, standing stationary besides her. "Need to get to the Shelby betting shop," she shrugged her shoulders, hoping that'd get Church boy to stop asking. She hadn't missed the almost fearful nature her family was spoken in. But not Michael, of course- her Michael wasn't a Shelby. "Oh, really?" The boy put the smoking cigarette in the corner of his smirk. "Cause I'm just going there." She groaned internally, knowing this meant she actually had to go. "Alright," she snapped. "Could you show me the way?" "Course," he held out his elbow like he was a gentleman. Anna didn't stop her self from rolling her eyes as she took it, with only a little smile. "I'm Isaiah Jesus, by the way." "I'm Sally." Only the nuns ever called her that, in an attempt to pacify the girl screaming for her mother. Everyone else called her Anna, and Sallyanna if she was in trouble. "No last name?" "You'll find that out soon enough." For someone who seemed so talkative, Isaiah sure knew when to shut up. "Alright, Ms No Last Name," Isaiah teased as he held open the door, gesturing for her to go inside. "Here we are: Shelby Company Limited's very own betting shop." She was slow as she walked in, head turning to the pale pink wallpaper and the floral sofa. A cross hung up on the wall, alongside a number of Biblical quotes. There was a double set of doors, painted green, that were thrown open. Inside, a crowd of men and woman sat as numbers were called out, typewriters clicking and Peaky Blinders smoking. Isaiah walked past the frozen Anna, welcoming into the shop with cheers of greetings. "Hey there Isaiah!" One boy yelled. He was round faced and freckled, taller than everyone else and skinny as Anna was behind her thick coat. "Who's that you got with you?" "Sally here wanted to come to the betting shop." Isaiah gave a shrug, revealing that was all he knew, as he sat on his desk. Three men looked up from the table: one looked a lot like the skinny boy that had noticed her, but older. Not Michael. The other was broad shouldered and intimidating, with a moustache. Not Michael. The third man had hair as dark as Anna's, with the bluest eyes. But Michael had brown hair, and hazel eyes.  "And why do you want to be here?" The blue eyes man questioned, voice cold. She recognised the three vaguely, mind scanning for facts she once knew as well as the sky was blue. "Tommy?" She asked, eyes squinting, then she pointed to the other two. "And you must be Arthur and John, then." She didn't heed the curious glances as she stepped further in, head turning around to the people staring at her. "Finn, I'm gonna guess, although I never really knew you." The freckled boy had a shocked look on his face, as he turned to Isaiah in a "who the fuck is this" kind of look. "So, where's Michael?" Her voice was stern as she looked around again for the brown hair she only barely remembered.  "And why the fuck do ya wanna know that?" John, Anna thinks, stood up, arms folded as he watched her scan the room. "I've been looking for him for fourteen bloody years," she cocked her head, seeing a light flicker in the blue eyes of her cousin. "Now tell me where the fuck Michael is." Suddenly, a door opened, two sets of shoes walking through as they muttered to one another.  "Mum, there's abso-fucking-loutely no way I'm gonna do that," a voice said as he walked into the betting shop. The round face she remembered had sharpened out, his skin tanned (probably from the farm) in ways she knew her pale skin would've had she gotten onto that boat. His mousy brown hair was tidily gelled up, a smart suit on his broad build. He didn't walk in it like he stole it, she noticed proudly. His hazel eyes widened as he looked at her. The woman at his side was frozen too, watching the betting shop's sudden pause. "Who is this?" The woman snapped, dark eyes falling on Anna. She had the same dark hair, although hers was longer and in curls, and their eyes were just the same. No one could answer for her, and she seemed too absorbed in the two figures in front of her to bother with formalities.  "Anna," Michael's voice was barely a whisper, but is shattered everyone. Next to him, Polly trembled, pale skin suddenly whitening as she started to draw the same comparisons to the baby she had held what felt like a life time ago. "Hiya Mikey," Anna said in the same soft voice she'd use when they were little. She opened up her arms. "You too old to hug your big sister or what?" In a second, her brother fell into her, arms wrapped so tightly around her torso that she thought she was going to suffocate. If the fur on her coat was itching his face, he didn't seem to mind as he pressed his face against her neck, tears spilling from both of them. "I missed you so fucking much," she croaked into his ear, not daring to look up to her mother's broken face, or her cousin's undoubtedly confused faces. "I thought you were dead." Michael sobbed a little, pulling her closer as if to check she was real and not just the ghost Polly used to have nightmares about. "They said you were dead, gone to fucking Australia so I couldn't even see you." "I didn't even get on the boat, Mike. Couldn't leave. Not with you in England." They finally broke away, as Anna allowed her rough hands to wipe away the tears on her little brother's face (not so little anymore) and giving the biggest smile she'd ever worn for the longest time. "Been looking for you for years, been from orphanage to orphanage trying to find Michael Gray. Turns out that wasn't even your fucking name." "You were looking for me?" Michael's voice was an echo, sadder and on the verge of more tears spilling. "Course. Wanted to find you so we could come back home together." She took a dramatic turn of her head, grinning. "Although you didn't seem to share that sentiment, huh?" He tried to chuckle a little, shyly wiping off tears and snot with the sleeve of his probably expensive suit. "Went all the way to the fucking countryside only to be told that I had to go all the way back to Small Heath. Honestly, couldn't have waited a few years for me?" Her teasing tone was second nature, a whisper of the what was. "Bus fare wasn't cheap, you know?" Not that she used the bus. Or paid, with her own money at least. Still, it got another smile on his face as he hugged her again, letting her breathe this time. "Anna?"  The broken voice was enough to get Michael to back away, falling by his sister's side to allow Polly a proper view of the much longed for daughter. "No, it can't be, I thought- they said...but...you were alive this whole time?" She barely whispered, shaking the dark locks of curls with her head. She took a few strides forward, lifting her hand. Despite the great comfort she felt in the woman's presence, she flinched at the sight of the manicured nails being bared. Ever so gently, Polly placed her hand (too cold for comfort, but Anna had felt colder) against Anna's cheek. Bringing another hand slowly up to pull back the dark fringe that covered her forehead. Like this, she could see her wide eyes that had once looked so big on her bald head, the little pout that would tremble when John took her toys, the curves of her face that were so like Michael's, and her dark eyes that could only be Polly's. "My girl, my Sallyanna." "Mum," Anna smiled as she fell into her embrace, letting the woman hold her like she should've done for the last fifteen years. There was no tears this time, just soft smiles and tight arms clinging to each other like she had done when the coppers came knocking. Only she was grown now, and she wouldn't let them take her from her family ever again.

[rucbarthatbowtiesarecooldw]

Sunday Morning Session

On this day of joy and gladness

Redeemer of Israel

I Love to see the Temple

 Elder Ulisses Soares

Christ offers us the glorious possibility of eternal salvation.

 “Salvation could not come to the world without the mediation of Jesus Christ. God … prepared a sacrifice in the gift of His own Son, who should be sent in due time to prepare a way, or open a door through which man might enter into the Lord’s presence, whence he had been cast out for disobedience. From time to time these glad tidings were sounded in the ears of men in different ages of the world down to the time of Messiah’s coming.” – Joseph Smith

How can you allow the atonement of Christ become fully effective in your life?

Christ is ever aware of the adversity and experiences in mortality.

The ultimate spiritual caregiver.

On the vary most grief filled days the Savior is there with His arms stretched out.

 Sister Reyna I Aburto

Mourning is one of the deepest expressions of pure love. . . . the only way to take sorrow out of death is to take love out of life.

The spirit will give you comfort in difficult times.

Thanks to the resurrection of the Lord eventual resurrection is a possibility for all who follow Him.

Side note: A beautiful talk but I had trouble concentrating because she inspired some song lyrics I had to get down before I forgot them.

He will embrace us in His arms of mercy.

 Elder S. Mark Palmer

To be believing is to not doubt God or the Savior and their promises.

Faith gives us hope.

Families can be bound together forever.

If you feel sorrow place your faith in Christ and act in faith – follow the whisperings of the spirit and you will find joy in life.

 Elder Edward Dube

Press toward the mark on the path toward God and Christ.

Side note: Jokes on you I always feel overwhelmed and inadequate so.

Never look back, look ahead at what we need to do.

It is not up to you or anyone else, it is up to God whether this pain will leave.

Are you willing to let your will be swallowed up in His?

Let us focus on the goal of pressing toward the mark.

He overcame all to help us.

I Am a Child of God

 Elder Jose A Teixeira

Make our way back and remember the Savior.

1 remember that we are children of God.

Knowing who you are changes how you feel and what you do.

2 remember the foundation that protects us.

Put our trust in the safest place: in our Redeemer.

3 remember to be prayerful.

Seek answers from heaven – we can search for anything in a moment, we need to remember to search for answers from God as well.

4 remember to serve others.

Loving service to others guides us along the path to our heavenly home towards our Savior.

May we remember and follow Him home.

 Elder Taniela B Wakolo

The Savior's universal love is the motivating force behind everything he does.

How does HF manifest His love for you?

1 relationships with God and family manifest His love.

Let us have face time – ig time without devices??

2 by calling prophets.

Ministering to thousands of One

3 chastening can be a manifestation of God’s love for His children.

Tells us He knows us.

A “spiritual surgery” to bring about change in our lives.

Happy is the man whom God corrects.

 Elder Chi Hong Sam Wong

Be determined to let God prevail, learn to hear His voice and use our energy to help gather Israel.

If ye will hear His voice harden not your heart

How can we let God prevail in our lives and not the adversary?

Earth and hell combined against us cannot prevail if we let God prevail.

Fear not to do good, my [children], for whatsoever ye sow, that shall ye also reap; therefore, if ye sow good ye shall also reap good for your reward. Therefore, fear not, little flock; do good; let earth and hell combine against you, for if ye are built upon my rock, they cannot prevail. – D&C 6:33-34

Where are you building your house? And what is your foundation?

If we build on a foundation on Jesus Christ we cannot fall.

And now, my sons, remember, remember that it is upon the rock of our Redeemer, who is Christ, the Son of God, that ye must build your foundation; that when the devil shall send forth his mighty winds, yea, his shafts in the whirlwind, yea, when all his hail and his mighty storm shall beat upon you, it shall have no power over you to drag you down to the gulf of misery and endless wo, because of the rock upon which ye are built, which is a sure foundation, a foundation whereon if men build they cannot fall. – Helman 5:12

How will you prepare for what is coming?

We cannot change what is coming, but we can change how we prepare for what is coming.

How often do you fill your life with the gospel.

The Gospel is not part of our lives, our lives are actually part of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Our lives are part of the gospel not the other way around.

Mortal life is only a part of the plan of salvation.

God knows the details of the details of the details of our lives.

For his word ye shall receive, as if from mine own mouth, in all patience and faith. For by doing these things the gates of hell shall not prevail against you; yea, and the Lord God will disperse the powers of darkness from before you, and cause the heavens to shake for your good, and his name’s glory. – D&C 21:5-6

 Elder Michael John U Teh

Do we only know about the Savior, or are we trying to come to know Him?

·The atonement of Jesus Christ applies to us personally.

 President Russell M Nelson

You will feel the Lord’s unfailing love for you.

The blessings of the gospel are for every land, race, and people. The Church of Jesus Christ is a global church.

No other message is so filled with hope; or can eliminate contention.

Faith in Jesus Christ is a conduit to divine power.

Allowing God to prevail begins with faith that God will take care of us.

True repentance begins with Faith that Jesus Christ has the power to heal, cleanse, and strengthen us.

Exercising faith can be overwhelming.

It is our faith that unlocks the power of God in our lives.

A small but growing faith

The Lord does not require a perfect faith for us to have access to His power – but He does ask us to believe.

Start today to increase your faith.

What are your mountains??

They will vary but the answer is to increase your faith. Lazy learners and lax disciples will have problems because this takes effort.

1 Study. Become an engaged learner. Immerse yourself in the scriptures. Internalize the truth that the Atonement of Jesus Christ applies to you.

Central to faith is trusting His will and timetable.

Only unbelief will prevent God from moving the mountains in your life.

The Savior is never closer to you than when you are climbing a mountain with faith.

2 choose to believe in Jesus Christ and stay faithful.

Take your questions to the Lord and other faithful sources.

Don’t look for inconsistences.

Do not increase your doubts by rehearsing them with other doubters.

Doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith.

3 Act in faith.

What would you do if you had more faith? Think about it, then do it.

4 Partake of sacred ordinances worthily.

5 Ask your Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus Christ for help. Faith takes work, revelation takes work. God will help.

But he that asketh receiveth .

Ask then ask again.

It takes faith to follow Prophets rather then popular opinion.

Our faith will always propel us forward. Always increases our access to Godly power.

Your faith will move the mountains of misery in your lives.

Jesus Christ will not fail you. His church will not fail you.

The people in the church definitely can and sometimes will fail you - but His church and gospel will not,.

 That Great Easter Anthem He is Risen

[merakiaes]

All Grown Up - Finn Shelby

Pairing: Finn Shelby x reader

Requested: Yes.

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: Sorry if this is really bad, I had a hard time coming up with something good for this request for some reason. It’s not proofread so sorry in advance for any possible mistakes. I really hope you like it, let me know what you think xx

Wordcount: 2367

Summary: You’re pregnant with Finn’s baby and you’re both very happy with it. The only problem is that he’s still treated as a child by his family and that no one takes your relationship seriously. The only one who does is your best friend, Michael, but he turns out not being such a good secret-keeper as you would have thought.

Exactly one week had passed since you found out that you were pregnant with Finn’s baby.

You had known each other your entire lives and been together romantically from the second you reached your teenage years.

You had lived with your mother for the first thirteen years of your life, right next door to the Shelbys, and had been taken in by them when she passed away in influenza.

Finn and yourself were now twenty years of age and in no way too young to become parents, at least not in theory.

The problem, however? Everyone treated Finn like a literal child and no one took your relationship seriously, only waving it off as a teenage puppy love despite the fact that you had been together since you were twelve, had only been romantic and intimate with each other that entire time and were engaged since three weeks back.

Out of everyone in the entire Shelby clan, Michael was the only one who didn’t treat Finn like a baby and saw that you were both serious about loving each other to the point where you would live the rest of your lives together.

Michael had only stepped into your lives a few years ago, but you had clicked immediately, and grown really close since then.

You were best friends. You told each other everything and whenever one of you would have a problem, you would always confide in the other before talking to anyone else.

And this time was no different, even if it had taken an entire week to gather the courage to speak to him about the matter at hand, with Finn’s approval of course.

You were gathered in the Shelby household for a family meeting. Usually, Esme, Linda, and Lizzie would be present as well, but today it would only be you, Polly, Michael and the Shelby brothers.

While Finn left your side to file into the betting shop with the rest of them, you grabbed a hold of Michael’s arm when he was about to follow, pulling him back slightly.

He looked down at you at that, his eyes instantly filling with worry at the sullen look on your face, practically being able to feel the anxiety radiating off of you.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, being sure to keep his voice down so that he wouldn’t alert the others of your conversation in case it was something private, which, in this case, it was.

“I need to talk to you.” You answered quietly, your grip on his arm tightening slightly.

He said nothing more, only nodding his head and leading you into the kitchen for some more privacy. 

Once inside, you sank down in a chair and he followed your example, pulling out a chair in front of you and sitting down, taking your hand in his in an act of comfort.

“What’s wrong?” He asked again, staring at you with worry. “Has something happened?”

You could only nod your head, feeling how your hand started clamming up with nervousness. 

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you took a few seconds to think, trying to figure out how you were going to tell him, but soon realized it would just be for the best to come out with it straight away.

You looked up at him, answering quietly. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re-“ His eyes grew wide with shock and he straightened himself up slightly before a huge smile overcame his boyish features. “That’s great! Congratulations!” He laughed, but his smile soon fell when he realized you weren’t smiling with him.

“Isn’t it great? Does he know?” He asked, turning hesitant, to which your lips tugged into a smile.

“He knows, yes. He was so happy when he found out. It’s amazing. Unbelievable, even.” You told him, shaking your head with a small laugh before turning serious again. “I just… I worry about what your mum and cousins are going to say. You know how they are, and we’ve already decided to keep it, there was no doubt in our minds about it. But their opinion and support still mean the world to us. To him, especially.”

Michael looked at you in understanding. “I’m honored you trusted me enough to tell me. I’ll support you in any way I can. Your secret is safe with me until you feel ready to tell them and when that time comes, I’ll be there and back you up if you need me.”

Your lips tugged into a smile, tears out of a mixture of happiness, gratitude, and anxiety stinging your eyes. You nodded your head. “Thank you, Michael. I’m lucky to have you as my friend.”

He smiled, squeezed your hand and then stood up, wordlessly leading you into the room where the rest of them were gathered, their heads looking up at the sight of you.

“There you are.” Polly spoke from her seat.

Michael wasted no time in leaving your side and going over to where his mom was sitting, sliding into the seat next to her and grabbing the glass of whiskey she had saved for him, while you moved over to where Finn was sitting, getting into the chair next to him.

He instantly put his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side.

“Alright, now that everyone that should be here is here, let’s get down to business,” Tommy said, bringing out the last empty glass and giving you a questioning look. “(Y/N)? Whiskey?”

You glanced around the table, seeing that everyone but you, Finn included, had a glass either in their hand or in front of them, and nodded with a small smile, getting comfortable under Finn’s arm. “Sure, thank you.” You accepted.

He started pouring the golden liquid into the crystal glass, but before he had even filled it up halfway, Michael’s voice cut through the air.

“You shouldn’t. I’ve read that alcohol isn’t good for the baby.”

Your blood turned cold in your veins at his words and Finn froze beside you. Your head snapped towards Michael, seeing his eyes growing wide with realization and regret the second the words passed his lips.

“God damn it, Michael!” You exclaimed loudly, frustration and anxiety bubbling up inside of you as everyone had now frozen in their spots and turned to look at you and Finn.

“Baby?” John was the first to ask after a moment of silence. “What fookin’ baby?”

Tommy sat up straighter in his chair, looking at you from across the table. “What’s he talking about, (Y/N)?” He turned to Finn, now having forgotten all about your drink. “Finn?”

Neither of you said anything, only exchanging a hesitant glance.

“Are you pregnant?” Polly demanded from where she sat, eyes hard and stern, and causing you to swallow thickly as you nodded.

“We were hoping to find a more convenient time and way to tell you but yes, I’m pregnant.” You confirmed, and almost immediately, they all started showing their disappointment in one way or another.

“How long have you known?”

You shared a glance with Finn before answering. “A week.”

“A week?” Polly scoffed in disappointment. “And you haven’t told us?”

“We didn’t know how to.” Finn finally joined the conversation, holding your hand comfortingly in your lap, away from everyone’s eyes, and glaring at pretty much everyone around the table. “We knew you would disapprove.”

Arthur snorted, speaking up for the first time. “Of course we fookin’ disapprove. You’re not old enough to have a baby.”

Finn turned his glare to him, eyes squinting in anger. “John was seventeen when he got Martha knocked up for the first time.” He pointed out, but Arthur only glared back.

“He was ready. You’re not.”

You could feel the anger getting more intense by the second inside of you. “How is that fair?” You exclaimed, Finn exclaiming right afterward.

“I’m tired of you always treating me like I’m still a child!”

“You are still a child.” John pointed out, and that really got you going, having you standing up from your chair with such force it fell to the floor behind you.

“Okay, so Finn didn’t go to war!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms out in exasperation, glaring at all of them – but most of all his brothers. “He hasn’t seen the things you’ve seen. But just because you have a different outlook on life and things, in general, doesn’t make him immature. I know for a fact that you don’t want him to be like you, that you want him to be better, so why are you always treating him like he’s ten years old when he’s doing just that?”

Finn grabbed your hand in thanks and in an attempt to calm you down but remained seated, too angry to move a muscle. Michael, however, much to everyone’s surprise, took a stand, nodding his head in agreement with you.

“She’s right, Tommy.” He said, looking at his cousin before looking around the table. “It’s time you start treating them like adults. Because that’s what they are. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t have been in this position in the first place.”

Only when Michael came to your defense did Polly actually realize that he was right, her stern facial expression slowly softening as she turned to look at you, eyes now much gentler. “No matter what anyone thinks, no one can make the decision but the two of you.”

“We’re not getting rid of it if that’s the decision you’re referring to.” Finn instantly spoke back in a defensive tone, glaring at his aunt in all his angry glory. “We’re keeping it, with or without your support.”

Polly remained calm, nodding her head and taking a drag out of the cigarette hanging from in between her fingers. “We will support you, whatever you do.” She said. “We’re so used to taking care of you I guess we just haven’t wanted to admit to ourselves that you’ve grown up and become your own man.”

She was talking to only Finn now and you knew her well enough to know she considered Finn as her own child as she had been the one to raise him from the very same day he was born, and that she understood quicker than the others because she, herself, had been in the exact same position that you were in right now – pregnant, scared and with everyone she loved against her.

Her words seemed to have gotten everyone’s brain gears spinning and when they all turned quiet, deep in their own thoughts, you allowed yourself to sit back down, Finn now having brought your chair back up from the floor.

When you sat down, so did Michael, and as no one was arguing or going against you anymore, you felt Finn relax significantly beside you.

For a good minute, the only sound that could be heard was the ticking of the clock on the wall and the faint sound of the crackling fire from the room next doors.

But soon enough, Tommy broke out of his thoughtful state and raised his glass of whiskey to his lips, tossing the rest of his drink back before slamming the glass back down and speaking, now with a much softer voice.

“If you say you’re ready to be parents, then I take your word for it.” He spoke slowly. “We will help you in any way we can. We’ll stick together like we always do.”

He clearly still wasn’t happy about the fact that you were pregnant, but he seemed to have accepted it now after Polly had given her opinion on it.

You and Finn nodded your head in thanks at him and another thick silence fell over you, this time almost unbearable. But you didn’t seem to be the only one who couldn’t stand it, as Arthur soon stood up from his seat, cutting the silence short.

He threw his arms out and started approaching you. 

“Well, I guess congratulations are in order.” He laughed, and you and Finn stood up to accept his embrace, a smile automatically rising to your face as you realized the worst part was over and that everyone would be able to be happy and get along again.

Once Arthur had hugged you, everyone else got to their feet too, all getting their turn at hugging and congratulating you.

Michael was last, coming over and hugging you in congratulations despite the fact that he had already known. 

He squeezed you tight and you squeezed him back. “I’m sorry I ruined it.” He mumbled into your hair, clearly guilty that he had let it slip.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him. You had been to a start, yes, but now you knew he had only been looking out for you and your unborn baby’s best interest.

“That’s alright.” You assured him. “You didn’t ruin anything. It would have come out eventually, anyway. It was probably for the best it happened like this.”

You pulled apart and he gave you a wide smile, one that reached all the way up to his eyes, that held nothing but sincerity. “You’ll make an amazing mother, (Y/N).” He said, and your smile instantly widened.

“Thank you, Michael.” You answered, nodding in gratitude.

He then turned to Finn, his youngest cousin, and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. 

“And you as well, Finn.” He nodded, looking between the two of you. “You’ll be great parents. I know you will. And so do they, they just have to come to terms with the fact that you aren’t children yourselves, anymore.”

He nodded his head towards the others who were now conversing among themselves at the table again, having gone back to the business at hand that had been forgotten during the conflict. 

And true to Michael’s words, they did.

It took a while for them to wrap their heads around the fact that their soft little brother was going to be a father, but eventually, they did, and when the day of your daughter’s birth came around, they finally came to the realization when they got to see it with their own eyes, that you were both all grown up and ready to go live your own lives. As adults.

[ghostxofxartemis]

OC Asks #3, #15, #25, #36, and #41 please? For ALL the OCs. Please and thank you!

Thank you for asking my friend! Sorry it took so long to get to this! (Also I’ve taken out Jane and John from my ShepShep pairing, also both John’s are similar in personality -even with complete different backgrounds-, haven’t written much of them to know them as well as the others.) 

from this list here. 

3. What does their safe space look like?

John: Is his team, his family. They’ve all seen him at his best and at his worst and not once thought bad of him at his worst. They all saw how much pressure he was under during the war, but they were also there with him and know he’s only human and was pushed beyond his limits. They were able to see him as Commander Shepard, but also AS Shepard. They are the only people he feels he can be himself with. Especially Ashley, she witnesses a lot more when they are alone- a lot of nightmares out of survival guilt that truly never go away. His cabin is another safe spot for him. He likes to stand by the fish tank and just watch them swim around mindlessly. 

Alex: Finds her safe space in her family. When you think about it, she’s pretty much been a nomad her whole life. Born on the Normandy and spending her time split between the ship, the apartment on the Citadel, and Grissom Academy it’s difficult to find a steady safe space. As long as mom, dad, and little brother Kaidan are around, she knows she can find someone to talk to and to feel safe with. 

Leah: is Kaidan. Kaidan is her Safe Space. She can’t explain why, because it was suppose to be so. But She doesn’t feel safe unless he’s around. It was something she found out while on Mars when they were finally together again as as a team (not a couple yet still) that she truly felt someone had her back. Doesn’t mean to say she doesn’t trust the other friends from the original Normandy, but there’s just something about Kaidan, he’s the only one she’ll let her guard down with, and feel comfortable pouring out her feelings that have been buried a long time.

Reagan: she finds a safe space in her cabin during the war while Coats isn’t there. Otherwise, she found a safe place with him once they overcame their differences (funny enough their difference are actually very similar). 

Axel: Is space. He’s a spacer, something about being on the ground makes him on high alert. He feels to exposed, and feels there’s too many opportunities for traps or ambushes - this feeling came along more after Elysium while on Shore Leave and the attack came. He doesn’t like living on Earth very much, but he does it for Kaidan. That’s why they found a home more secluded along the ocean. He doesn’t feel safe unless Kaidan is home watching his six. 

15. What is the first thing people notice about them?

John, people just crush all over him. He’s just has that captivating aura about him that make people turn head quickly notice him. But he just has that commanding, leadership presence that’s hard to miss. 

Alex, is her bright blue eyes and her freckles. People will automatically associate her with Commander Shepard because she has John’s blue eyes, and she’s mastered his powerful commanding presence - a presence pretty much everyone knows right away. She has that same commanding stare he has and people notice that.  But also, she has bubbly personality and that’s another thing people notice, her personally is very capturing to others. She’s a very happy kid.

Leah and Reagan, would be there scars. Their cybernetics scares are pretty intimidating, but also they both have glare that can make people shake in their boots. 

 Axel, like John people crush all over him, but also, probably just his very friendly personality. I haven’t really considered much for him. 

25. What are somethings they find difficult to do? Or say?

Oof, 

John has a hard time opening up about his past. Especially the lost of his mother. When people ask him about it, he tends to shut down, it’s too much of a sensitive touchy subject for him. He’s not proud of his past self. 

Alex, is stubborn like both parents, and isn’t afraid to say things as is. Probably takes that more from her mother. Having Shepard and Williams blood flowing through you will do that lol. 

Leah, expressing her feelings. She does everything to push everyone away because she doesn’t want to lose more people. Even with Kaidan sometimes it’s hard for her to express her feelings many years after the war. She’ll use touch instead, Kaidan learns the “I just want to cuddle touch” vs the “it’s sexy time touch” he never pushes her to express her feelings. 

Reagan, doesn’t care what people think of her, so she has no issues saying it as is and being aggressive. A lot of times, she was the one sent to come get your money during her Red days. She’s very scary, but also knows how to play the “you can trust me” act.

Axel,  has a hard time saying no. He learns to eventually, especially during the early years of becoming an officer in the Alliance. But he was raised to always please “yes sir, no sir, yes ma’am, no ma’am.” 

36. Tell us something about your OC that doesn’t make it onto the page?

For this one, I haven’t written enough of Leah, Reagan and Axel to answer this one for them. 

But for John his and Ashley’s sex life if very downplayed. Probably down from rated R to M? If that makes any kind of sense. 

for Alex hmmm that’s a good question... I guess I haven’t written enough of her either to decide. Though I have noticed her friendship with her brother hasn’t been mentioned a lot yet. They’re very close since they spent a lot of time together on the ship and are the only kids on there, so they had only each other to play with when the crew was on duty. 

41. Your character has been punched into the face. What’s their reaction?

John after recovering from the shock would probably put them in armlock and keep them pinned until the authority arrives. Unless Ashley is around they tend to take matters in their own hands lol.

Alex, she’ll knock them off their feet and walk away. If they come after her again, she’ll punch you back.

Reagan,  she’ll automatically punch you back, then grab them by the collar and pin them and threaten them. 

Leah,  her biotics will flare, that usually tends to make them back off and no further action required.

Axel, his biotics would probably flare too, but he’ll usually try to talk them down first before doing anything. 

Thanks for asking!! 

[tracybirds]

:DD I finished!! Part 2!! of my Man from TB5 AU!! yay!!! A reminder for those who don’t recall last week let alone last month, this is based on a prompt by @kenzie-running-free :

A 'what-if' story based on "The Man From TB5" where the Hood recognized John in the scene when he makes himself known (instead of John stuttering).

Uh and so I did that and then John got kidnapped. Full backstory here: [Part 1]

Super many thanks to @gumnut-logic and @plantmuffin for reading parts and chatting plotting with me :D You’re both lovely!

Enjoy!!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The silence that followed John’s dramatic exit was the hardest part. No one spoke, the only sound the roaring of the wind and the faint beeping in John’s ear that told him the connection had not yet been re-established. Perhaps, it wouldn’t. The Hood had intended for Penelope to call his brothers to her, and crucially away from him, so it followed that the frequency disrupter was concealed on his person.

If it were him in his ‘bird, he knew how to trace the dead air that a comm jam inevitably created. There was a trail that would follow, maintenance reports and upgrades listed. There was sudden news spreading online of short, unexplained communication failures, a flurry of online activity that burst into life the moment the disruption ended.

He wasn’t in his ‘bird. He didn’t have access to a vast network of datastreams and information caches and statistical modelling programmes. He had a radio that was only connected to a single network and magnetic socks for all the good they would do him. And he had thrown away the one item that might have been useful as a weapon.

After that impulsive choice, he wasn’t certain he could claim his brain as an asset.

One problem at a time. He knew how to calm a racing mind, knew how to create order out of apparent chaos.

Three goons.

One mastermind.

No control over the mechanism strapped to his body.

Wind chill.

No way to contact his family and make his position known.

Yet.

The steady beeping of an unconnected comm was replaced by crackling static. A stationary frequency disruptor then, not on the Hood’s personage at all. It would make things harder for Penelope and Parker to get out of the mess they were in, if they needed to destroy the jamming technology themselves, but it gave John a chance. He twisted slightly in his harness, the unforgiving metal tugging at his skin.

“You won’t get out, boy,” sneered the Hood. “And where would you go? Fall to your death like your mother? Like your friends back at the hotel will?”

John ignored him. His arm snaked higher, feeling underneath the lapel of his suit. He shuddered at the bite of metallic thread, the icy burn spreading outwards from his fingers.

His hands were clumsy and the cold already beginning to muddle his mind as he worked, fighting his instincts to curl up and preserve heat instead of picking at frozen circuitry.

The static dropped into the familiar, faint beeping as they flew through another patch of destructive signal interference. He worked through it, twisting at the threads to create a receiver that would remain open and linked into the iR comm line. To hack into his own network was no mean feat and more than once John had to abruptly shift from fiddling with the electrical components to scratching his chin as the Hood or his men peered back at him. A quiet Tracy was a dangerous Tracy. The Hood had learnt that lesson long ago.

He couldn’t allow more than a sharp inhale of excitement as the radio receiver caught the first snatches of conversation on the air.

“It’s been nearly an hour.”

“And he hasn’t called any of us?”

“EOS, you’re sure this isn’t you?”

“Positive!”

He couldn’t leave a transmission line open, not without creating a signal of his own that would draw attention to himself from unwanted parties. Especially as he couldn’t guarantee it would attract his brothers’ attention. Better to wait.

A new voice broke through.

“Calling International Rescue, we have urgent need of assistance.”

“Lady Penelope?” Scott and Gordon’s voices intertwined, although one displayed considerably more anxiety than the other.

“Lady Penelope, what’s happened to John?” demanded Scott. John could almost see the withering glare he gave their younger brother, almost daring him to speak.

“John’s not… he’s been…”

“Kidnapped by the ‘ood,” cut in Parker. “Begging your pardon, m’lady.”

A loud thump.

“I told you we should take it seriously,” hissed Alan.

“How was I to know it wasn’t his stupid AI being the devil incarnate again?”

“I said it wasn’t me!”

“What information can you give us?” Virgil’s voice was low and calm. John could almost feel his warm hand dropping on his shoulder, his eyes intent and serious.

“I don’t know where John is,” said Penelope, letting out a shaky breath. “But we’ve just destroyed a frequency jammer that was affecting all our communications, and there are three devices slowly cutting through the cables holding up the infrastructure of the hotel. We have nearly 300 civilians that need help now.”

A splutter of outrage came through the earpiece.

“John–”

“Don’t argue with me, Scott Tracy,” Penelope snapped. “Do not think for a second I don’t care about your brother because I do. The Hood wants something from him specifically, he’s not in any immediate danger. But we have experienced altitude shifts from a loss of tension twice in the last forty-five minutes, and we cannot afford to wait much longer.”

“She’s right,” murmured Virgil.

There was an awful silence. John held his breath.

“Thunderbird One and Thunderbird Shadow are our fastest planes,” said Scott. “Kayo, let’s move. Gordon, you and Alan, get up the hotel specs up in the comm sphere, start running timeframe simulations. We need to get those people out of that building.”

“I’ve forward you boys all the information I can.”

“Virgil, can you–”

His stomach in his mouth.

Wind whistling in his ears, drowning out the words.

A drop in altitude, a spike in terror.

He groaned as his body jolted in the harness, the fall abruptly ended with cruel laughter from above. Slowly the mechanical wings retracted and again gravity overcame him. A numb jolt shot up his legs and he crumpled to the hard tarmac. The fall was only a few feet high, but it was enough to cause serious ground shock which slammed through his nerves like a lightning bolt.

John looked up, squinting in the harsh sunlight.

Above him, the Hood and his henchmen circled like vultures, almost lazy in their descent. They would never be able to reach him if he could make a break for it.

‘If’ very much being the operative word.

John looked around him. The mountainous landscape cut off any obvious escape routes. There was a car nearby, evidently left for them to use as a getaway for the next phase of transport. Black, hard top, driver’s seat on the left. He noted the make and model before checking over the sprained wrist he’d sustained as he’d fallen forwards. He grimaced as he tested its range of motion, thanking his lucky stars he was right handed. Gingerly, he dabbed at scrapes beneath his torn dress trousers, doing his best to clean them.

He risked a glance upwards to see how many more precious few moments alone he would be given.

Hunched over his wounds, it was time to make a signal disruptor of his own. He needed a device that would draw attention not only to his existence, but his location. He huffed on his hands, his fingers still stiff and clumsy from the cold. A localised disturbance in the comms network would do it, he knew the precise frequencies that the comms would be operating on and would be able to target a destructive pattern much more efficiently that the broad spectral disruption that the Hood’s device had used. And if he could code a message into the pattern of disruption, all the better.

‘If they can find it.’ He pushed the thought away. His brothers were still chattering in his ear, their focus on the rescue at hand and unaware of his eavesdropping. He knew they were close by, close enough that the comms would record the disruption even if they weren’t looking for it. He just had to hope someone would at least note the regularity of the anomaly when they reviewed the mission logs. He tried not to think about the fact that that someone was usually him.

He had to trust his brothers.

The binary of Morse code made it easy to incorporate, able to be read through the on/off of the signal disruption. They could all recognise a simple SOS message, it had been one of the first rescue lessons their father had drilled into them from childhood. He set the signal to repeat.

Rough hands pulled John upright and he stood on shaky legs that struggled to hold his weight. His adrenaline level was decreasing rapidly, and the resulting shock was beginning to crash his system.

“Get him in the car,” said the Hood, barely glancing at John. “Move quickly, International Rescue will fly over this region soon enough and I want us long gone before they get a sniff of this place.”

“Yes boss.”

John was frogmarched to the back seat and strapped into place. He hadn’t sat in a middle seat since before his first growth spurt and he shifted uncomfortably with his knees around his ears.

“I want something from you, John Tracy.” The Hood sounded bored, merely reciting a daily script with a stranger. “It is a mistake to say I need it. All I want is for you not to have it.”

A soft click drew John’s attention. The cold impression of a barrel against his ribs left him certain of the Hood’s intent. The blood pounded in his ears, the mental instructions he sent to calm his heart rate unheeded by his body.

“I am not concerned how I get it.” John could see the man’s cold, glittering eyes in the rear view mirror. “Do we understand each other, John?”

John licked at his dry lips. His voice was merely a rasp and he hated himself for betraying such an obvious physical reaction.

“We do,” he whispered.

“Excellent.”

John was feeling dizzy. The reality of his situation flashed through his mind, sudden images of being thrown from the hotel, forced out of the sky, the gun that was pressed into his side. He closed his eyes. Faintly, he thought he could hear Alan’s excited voice, his words indistinct as hysteria threatened to overwhelm him.

He couldn’t give that level of satisfaction to his worst enemy.

He wouldn’t allow his emotions to control his responses.

He needed a cool head and all his wits about him if he were to get out of this mess.

The car was speeding along the mountain road, isolated with nobody nearby for miles.

He opened his eyes. Alan was still talking into his ear.

“Guys, I know that’s John.”

“What, so the comm signal drops off nearby and you immediately assume it’s John?” scoffed Gordon. “It happens, alpine regions are always sketchy. It’s back now anyway.”

“Exactly,” said Alan. “Signals that drop off don’t just come back. It’s not random noise either, look at this projection of signal strength. And it’s moving.”

“Kayo, go check it out,” ordered Scott. “It may be nothing, but let’s not take chances. Virgil and I can finish up here, we’re almost done.”

“FAB Scott.”

“Alan, try to make contact. If it is John, I want confirmation of his situation.”

A high pitched frequency assaulted him. Audio feedback, a misplaced connection in the radio receiver and John yelped, bringing his hands up to protect his ears.

He froze, eyes watering.

“Pull. over.”

The Hood’s voice was as silk, a smooth, low, furious sound that demanded obedience.

John didn’t move, didn’t dare draw attention to the radio embedded in his jacket. He could lose the earpiece, despite the anguish it would cause to lose a stable connection to his family. Without the radio itself, their link to him would be destroyed.

Rough hands grabbed at his arm, ignoring the sharp cry as his injured wrist bore his weight as he was hauled from the car.

A hard shove sent him sprawling.

“Get him up,” said the Hood. “Stop wasting my time.”

Revulsion rose from John’s stomach as the Hood stepped closer. His head jerked away, only to be captured in the Hood’s other hand, yanking his ear down to eye level.

“A speaker,” he muttered, plucking the earpiece from its place. He lifted it to his own ear, cocking an eyebrow at the voices that emanated from it.

“So, you’re in contact with them. Clever. And yet you haven’t alerted them to your whereabouts?”

John said nothing.

“There must be a receiving unit. Presumably a transmitter as well – ah! A textile radio, how delightful. Did Brains cook this up for you? But of course he did.”

The jacket was ripped from his body, leaving John shivering in the mountain air.

“How does this work, John? No, don’t tell me. Brains’ inventions are always so intuitive. Very convenient in an emergency, wouldn’t you say John?”

He threw the earpiece back at one of the henchmen holding him in place.

“Best give this part back, we don’t need it.”

The man hesitated.

“Get a move on,” growled the Hood.

John flinched as the earpiece was replaced, his head filled again with the sounds of his family calling to each other back and forth.

The Hood fingered the lapel thoughtfully.

“I can open a transmission to them. Should I do that John? Let them know how helpless you are? How helpless they are?”

“Thunderbird Five calling unknown operator, come in please.”

“They’ll find me. They won’t stop searching.”

“Such faith in family.” The Hood peered into John’s eyes. “Do you really believe that? Surely you recall their past failures. Their prejudices. Their arrogance.”

“We have received an SOS from your location. Please respond.”

He leaned closer.

“John, if you’re out there, give us a sign. Anything. Please.”

Alan’s voice broke. John could hear the shuffling motion of a brother pulling another close. Gordon’s calm, steady voice took over the call.

“You’re about to find out what I learnt long ago. Family lets us down. Family leaves us behind. Family don’t look forever.”

John’s heart thudded in his chest. The Hood’s lips twisted into a cruel smile, a knife twisting in the wound he’d just dealt.

“Of course, you already know that.”

>>>“Dad, we need you.”

>>> “Dad, we won’t stop looking.”

>>> “Dad, please.”

>>> “…”

>>> “Dad, they need me. They need Thunderbird Five.”

>>> “Scott says we have to stop.”

>>>“Dad, I think he’s right.”

John knew. John remembered.

The Hood opened the channel.

“Wait, wait Scott, we have a connection.”

“Can he hear us?”

“John? John?!”

“Anything you’d like me to pass on, John?”

The Hood smiled, a triumphant figure.

“Last chance.”

“Go to hell.”

He laughed, fingers playing on the edge of the jacket lapel.

Twenty-two thousand miles above them, his laugh echoed across a suddenly silent space station.

[Part 3]

[crimsonredemption]

It’s over, isn’t it?

follow-up Oneshot to never enough 

Javier x GN!Reader  /  platonic Arthur x GN!Reader   //     Angst      //          ca 2800 words  //  a huge thank you to @cupofcowboys for beta-reading!

TW: Death, Chapter 6 spoilers

Only four days had passed since you left Javier’s tent, but you couldn’t get yourself to leave camp completely - not yet. You hated Beavers Hollow, hated how tense everyone was, hated the way Dutch seemed to care less and less about those he swore to protect and love, hated to see Arthur getting sicker by the day. But worst of all was seeing Javier drift into an abyss of anger and bitterness, blind loyalty guiding his way. The two of you avoided each other, not having shared a single word. But sometimes you could swear you feel his gaze linger on you, just for a moment but when you turn, he’s gone. He was there in flesh and blood, and yet, you felt haunted by him as though he were a ghost. 

You weren’t the only one who noticed the ongoing decay of your big family; some people had already left camp in the dead of night, slipping out while they still could. You couldn’t blame them. Leaving was what you wanted to do as well, but with every day that passed you felt the life you had hoped for, the life you had wished for, slipping through your fingers like fine sand, and there was nothing you could do about it. Something always held you back from leaving, one day it was the bad weather - the next day Arthur needed your help, it was never a good time. 

Your mind wandered back to Javier, eyes scanning camp for him almost automatically. He sat next to Micah, a sight all too common in the past few weeks. Just thinking about the way Micah slithered his way into Javier`s trust made the hair your neck stand up, it was almost ironic. Javier never had any respect for Micah, never once shared more than two friendly words with him and yet here they were - close and tight. 

The weight of a hand on your shoulder snapped you out of your thoughts. Raising your chin, you saw Arthur looking down at you, the usual half-smile on his lips. Looking at him, your eyebrows furrowed visibly, his condition worse since the last time you saw him.

“Look at this mess we made Y/N,” he said in a voice low and breathy, always on the edge of coughing and you found yourself anticipating it, but it didn’t come. 

“It’s a mess alright,” you whisper.

“I always thought...you know, the two of you would make it outta here. I hoped to see you and Javier leave and live, you know...a happy life.” Arthur adds, his eyes searching for something in the distance.

Your hands were kneading a piece of cloth while you fought the urge to cry, to just let out all your frustration and anger at the world. But while your emotions weighed on you like a mountain, only a single tear found its way along your cheek, only to land on your hand that was laying in your lap. You didn’t dare answer him, you just couldn’t. But seeing the way your shoulders tensed up and how tightly your hands were clenched, Arthur laid an arm around your shoulder - offering you all the comfort he could provide for the moment. 

You were both content in your embrace until Arthur straightened his back, signaling that he was about to get up from the log you were sitting on. You expected him to get up and leave, but to your surprise he squatted down in front of you, cupping your hands with his. 

“Things are about to get messy here Y/N, I’d rather you’re not here to see it. If you don’t know where to go, search for Charles. He’s with the people in the reservation.” he explained in a hushed voice as if he was afraid someone could hear. Only now you saw that he had one of your bags around his shoulder. You were at a loss for words, opening and closing your mouth to answer him time and again, but no words left your lips. Your eyes left Arthur’s face and searched for Javier, who only a few minutes ago had been sitting not too far from you, but now he was gone. Your heart ached for him, to see his face one last time before you left the hell that was Beaver Hollow. But what exactly did you hope to see? Eyes that once held so much love and care for you, now carrying no more than resentment? No. It was better he wasn’t here to see you leave camp for good, it would make things easier for you. 

Once you had your belongings and weapons on your horse, you were ready to go. It was awfully quiet at camp. After taking in a deep breath you turned to face Arthur. “Thank you, Arthur, for everything you’ve done for me, for all of us. These fools don’t know half of it.” you murmured while leaning in to hug the bigger man.

“Don’t mention it.” was all he said, he was a man of few words after all. 

After saying your goodbye to Arthur, you led your horse down the trail that leads away from camp. Sunlight was shimmering through the treetops as you walked on, and lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice when you passed Javier, who was standing a little offside the road, hidden between the green of the bushes. He stepped out of the shadows trailing you for a bit, but somehow his presence eluded you. 

“It’s over, isn’t it?” 

Hearing his voice made you stop in your tracks, your horse following your example after the grip of your hand on the reins hardened. It wasn’t much of a question, but more of a statement, an unshakable truth. For a moment you considered ignoring him and to just keep walking. You pondered on what to answer when a noise in front of you demanded your attention. A look over your shoulder confirmed your suspicion - Javier had a finger in front of his mouth, signaling you to keep quiet. Your eyes followed the movements of his hands and with one swift motion, he took out his knife and threw it in the direction the noise originated from. A muffled moan reached your ears and in a heartbeat, you had closed the distance between you and the man who had been hiding behind the thicket. 

“A Pinkerton?” you gasped your own knife now at the man’s throat. He struggled visibly before you, Javier's knife hit his shoulder and he was bleeding heavily. 

“Are there more of you?” Javier asked, expecting him to explain himself and their plan. Instead of giving an answer, the man spat at Javier. “This time your lot won’t have time to run...we made-” but before he could finish his sentence, Javier slit his throat. “That was all I needed to hear, Bastardo.” 

“We have to warn them, Javier, they will over-run them if we don’t.” 

“I know, you go. I’ll hold them off.” he says but you weren’t having it.

 “Javier, you only have one revolver. I have all my weapons here, I can buy you some time!” 

“But Y/N...” there was an honest concern in his eyes, and you fought off the urge to run to him. 

“No buts! Hurry now, I got this. He was only a scout, but soon the place will be buzzing with this scum!” You prayed that your nerves wouldn’t get the better of you and show how afraid you were. You didn’t know how many exactly there were, but there was no other way. His eyes were still locked with yours when he took the first few steps back in the direction of camp but soon he started running, leaving you behind for good. When he was out of sight you turned to face the other side of the road. Whatever it was coming for them, you would make sure to stand in their way.

Or so you thought.

You had been searching the area for what seemed like an eternity; realistically it was about 10 minutes since Javier left, but every minute felt stretched out indefinitely. Soon the sun would set, making it almost impossible to find people in the dark of the forest, so your best shot would be to return to the gang and help them pack up as quickly as they could. You mounted your horse and made your way back when you heard a gunshot. A sense of foreboding overcame you and you fastened your speed, making your horse give their all to you. 

When you arrived at camp you rode past the other horses, well into the camp and what you saw was far from what you had imagined the scene to look like. Instead of packing, the gang members were standing in two separate groups, one group only consisting of Arthur and John, whereas the other was made up of the rest of the gang, everybody pointing their guns at the other group. A scream escaped your mouth when you saw the body of Miss Grimshaw lying in the mud. You hurried to her side in hope to find any sign of life, but it was too late. Tears streamed down your face while you were holding her lifeless body close to you. You had always loved her like a mother, and even though she had been harsh on all of you, you knew that deep down she cared deeply for every one of the gang. 

“What happened here?” You closed the lids of her eyes before getting up, slowly and shivering with rage. “And what’s with all this bull shit here, pack your damn guns away! There are Pinkertons coming right now!!” 

Micah was the first to open his mouth. “This doesn’t concern you, pick a side or get lost!” he snarled, but you weren’t paying attention to him. Your eyes were on Javier, who had his gun out but didn’t point it at Arthur or John, unlike the others. A thousand thoughts running through your mind as you started walking towards him. Javier lowered his gun slowly, a look of bewilderment mixed with joy on his face. The thought of you returning to camp in this situation and picking Arthur’s side...he could never point a gun at you, not for everything in the world. 

“Mi Amor,” he started while reaching out for you and he wanted to say something else, but you threw yourself at him, wrapping your hands around his torso, and started weeping. There was no holding back anymore - all the bottled up emotions, fears and crushed dreams fought their way up to the surface and you could barely hold yourself up straight. An uncontrollable stream of tears wet Javier’s blue Jacket, but you didn’t care. All you wanted was to be held by him, to be comforted by the man you loved so much while the world you knew seemingly crumbled to pieces around you. You had almost forgotten how good his arms felt around you, how much you loved feeling his skin on yours. The world around you seemed to fade away, though you could hear the other man arguing with each other. Javier’s hands were stroking your back when you opened your eyes, only to see a handful of Pinkerton Agents emerging from the woods, pointing their guns at your family. Everyone else was too busy with themselves, not noticing the danger coming for them. 

Before you could open your mouth to warn them the agents opened fire, aiming for the outlaws closest to them. Javier was still holding you tightly when the first shot was fired and without so much of a second thought you turned with him, so it would be you facing the agents with your back. It was intuition that led you to do it, and not a second too late. The sound of the shot still ringing in your ear, you felt a stinging pain in your back that made you cling to Javier for a moment before your legs gave into your weight, Javier going down to the ground with you. He was still holding you, a look of complete horror on his face. You saw his mouth moving as if he was saying something, his body moving in frantic waves. You were too focused on the pain to make out what it was what he was saying though. It was different than anything you had ever felt before. You knew you were in pain, but at the same time, you felt as if your body was numb to the feeling, as if your brain couldn’t catch up to it. Slowly you started hearing the tumult around you again, screams and the sound of the fighting reaching your ears again. 

You felt your body being lifted from the ground and found yourself in Javier's arms once again, as he was carrying you away from the fight into the woods, taking the risk of stumbling onto other Agents that might still be out there. Breathing was getting harder and harder, the urge to cough omnipresent. You wanted to talk to him, but barely a noise left your mouth. As the seconds and minutes passed on, you watched Javier’s face, a variety of emotions visible on it. 

“Y/N! Please...stay with me, okay? You’re gonna-” he said while placing you on the ground before adding, “You’re not going to leave me, alright? Stay strong, mi amor.” 

A weak “yeah” left your mouth when you felt Javier’s hands on your side, trying to get to the wound to see if there was a way, any way, he could save you. His jaw clenched when he saw that the back of your blouse was completely red, soaked in your blood, and the familiar smell of it just now hit his nose. Javier inhaled sharply, his mind frantically searching for a solution, but he feared that there was nothing he could do anymore. They were way too deep into the forest to reach a doctor in time and he couldn’t go back to camp, either. 

As you watched him through half-closed lids, you slowly but surely became aware of your situation. You weren’t going to make it out of it, not this time. But strangely you weren’t sad or angry at the fact that you were dying. A weird sense of self-awareness came over you. 

“Javier?” you managed to call out to him, which made him crawl closer to you instantly, taking your hand into his and bringing his face closer to yours. 

“Yes, Y/N, I’m here. I won’t leave you.” he answered, patiently stroking your face with his thumb. 

“I think I’m dying Javier and I want you,” you coughed heavily before continuing “I need you to know that I love you. More than anything else.” Your voice was barely more than a whisper by now, the rattle in your throat making it hard for you you to talk. 

“I...I...Mi amor, I’m so sorry for everything. I can’t let you go without letting you know that I was the biggest fool alive. I..”

You cupped his face with your hand and he understood your silent plead - he closed the distance between the two of you, slowly placing his lips on yours. He was incredibly gentle and loving, and you felt your heart swell with love for him once again. Javier whispered a quiet “I love you” against your lips, smiling. But his eyes betrayed him, tears swelling in the corners of his when he saw that your eyes were closed. Your body grew limp in his arms as he tried to sit you up against him; if you had to go, he wanted to hold you in his arms while it happened. 

He didn’t know, of course, that you could still hear him. You heard when he surrendered to his emotions, loudly crying and sobbing and calling out your name. You didn’t know how much time had passed, but after a while, he gathered himself and started to hum a melody. 

You listened to his quiet singing, surrounding you like it was all that was left on this earth, which in a way it was for you. He had never sounded more beautiful than he did now, and as much as you wished to listen to him forever, it started to slowly fade away and finally eluding you completely until there was nothing more. The last thing you saw was Javier’s face, the last thing to touch you were his lips, and the last thing you heard was his voice, singing you the softest words. You were happy in the end, and when you finally took your last breath, all was well. 

[sleepypeaky]

its all fucked

2/2

part 1

shelby!reader

au where michael is chill with tommy, gina isnt there, and aberama lives

Summary: in the immediate aftermath of season 5, tommy desperately tries to find ways to take Mosley down. You might have a way,,, and its not one they were expecting.

Warnings: violence, sexual themes, hehhe, i mean,,,,, obvs swearing

You knocked lightly on the heavy wooden door and awaited your entrance. 

The Mosley’s London house took up the whole block, and was plastered over with white. The street was empty of cars, and there were no pedestrians at 12 o’clock on a tuesday afternoon. Everyone, much like your cover story, would be out to lunch.

You turned back to the door as you heard the heavy metallic latch being drawn back.

You took these last 3 seconds to calm your nerves. Utter surety overcame you when you remembered that at the end of all this, that horrible son of a bitch would be missing the back of his skull.

That put a smile on your face, a smile that you greeted the woman who stood in the doorway with.

_________

Sunday

“Because i’m fucking Mosley’s wife. And therefore i am the only one who can kill him.”

The silence was broken after a long while by Arthur.

“You fucking what?!”

You rolled your eyes and pinched your nose.

Tommy still stared at you with his mouth slightly open. Upon closing it, he furrowed his eyebrows and trod over to where you were seated.

He looked down at you,

“When the fuck were you going to tell us? You could have fucked this up for me! What the fuck were you thinking!? Do you want to get yourself killed?!”

You returned his gaze,

“I should ask you the same question! Fucking assassinating a very powerful man in front of hundreds of people? And for your information, who i decide to fuck does not concern you!”

Tommy scoffed,

“You are unbelievable! Everything concerns me. You are a fucking Shelby and were interfering with my business!”

Before you could yell back Polly stood up.

“Enough!”

She slammed her glass down on the table.

“Stop bloody bickering and focus on what really matters right here and now.” She turned to you.

“(y/n) does Mrs. Mosley know that you are a Shelby?”

You shook your head. You had resigned yourself from most family affairs at the age of 16, and left to travel abroad before the Shelby name became renowned. And that, paired with being the 4th child (between Ada and John), you were virtually unknown, and definitely not assumed to be affiliated with the Shelby’s.

“Ok so thats a start.” Polly sighed. “Tommy do you have any immediately pressing questions?”

Tommy clenched his jaw. Running his hand over his chin he asked,

“What makes you think you can kill her husband and get away with it?”

You responded without a beat,

“She hates him. He’s a faschist, abusive, monster to whom she was practically forced to marry. And add to all that, she evidently does not care for men.”

“Have you ever discussed killing her husband before?”

“No, tommy. I’m not a complete idiot. But she has told me many things; its easy to infer.”

Tommy nodded slightly in acceptance.

“Fine. This is our best choice so let’s see what you got.”

_________

Monday

Tommy paced the room while twirling a pen in his hands.

“We need to perfect this. There can be no flaws.”

You lay back on the couch, rolling your eyes.

“Tom, i know! Do you really want to go over everything again?”

“(y/n) you know the answer is yes.” Polly replied, taking a drag of her cigarette.

After yesterday’s meeting Ada, Michael, Finn, and Arthur had returned home. Polly stayed to make sure you and Tommy didn’t strangle each other. (she always said that you two were too alike and would try to kill each other if left unsupervised)

You sighed.

“Ok here it is again.”

The plan was simple: You would meet Cynthia Mosley at your usual time, 12 noon on tuesday. There were only 2 servants at the London House and they both kept to themselves, only thinking that you were a friend who called weekly for lunch. You would eat, talk, and go up to her room. You both never feared the appearance of Mosley, as he was in the house of commons for a few hours, and then would always retire to his office where someone would keep him occupied for much of the later afternoon. Tomorrow, however, Tommy would catch Mosley before he got to his office and give him cause for suspicion. Mosley would return home to find his wife in bed with, well, you. Then bang. You would then break the bedroom window and scream. The goal was to make it seem like one of Mosleys enemies had shot him through the window. Before any serious inquiries could be made, Cynthia would be on a ship headed for america, along with the 2 maids. And you would have left before you were seen.

All set.

_____

“Hello Sally”

You greeted the maid who opened the door.

“Mrs. Cynthia is in the study, ma’am. You will be taking lunch in there.”

You thanked her and made your way down the hall.

Lunch.

Chitchat.

You climbed the stairs.

She sheds her clothing.

Tommy pulls Mosley aside.

Whispers in his ear.

Mosley’s face flushed with anger.

Cynthia moans.

The car screeches to a halt.

The bed hits repetitively against the wall.

You hear the door open below but double your efforts to make sure Cynthia doesnt hear.

___

Mosley enters the house with a bang. The maids are nowhere to be found. He waits for a second and sure enough, hears enough to confirm his suspicion. He throws his hat to the floor and flies up the stairs. 

He kicks the door open, causing it to slam against the wall with a loud crash.

Cynthia yelps and opens her eyes, which widen with shock as she sees her husband.

Mosley only sees you, frozen in shock and confusion as you lift up from between her legs. 

He is so confused that his normal instincts dont kick in when you reach under the sheets and produce a gun. 

His eyes finally widen, too late.

“Courtesy of Tommy Shelby.”

You pull the trigger. Mosley slides to the floor, blood fanned out behind him on the wall.

You stand and look down at his lifeless body, spitting at him fro good measure.

“take that you faschist fuck.”

You turn back to the much stunned Cynthia.

“Ok,” you start. “I guess i should explain.”

_______________

_________

____

_

[sargentism]

Before the great war, Surge was training to join the International  Police. At the time, it was a starting concept, and they were training low ranking officers to keep the peace in cities and towns of various regions. That was the hope anyways. Before he could really devote himself fully to the organization, a war broke out between Johto and Kanto.  At first, other regions stayed clear of  the conflict, and even when Kanto seemed to have the upper hand, no one really stepped in until Unova finally did, dragging in Kalos and Galar.

Kanto pulled Hoenn and Sinnoh to it’s side, and within just a few years of conflict, it turned into a World War. Towards the peak, Surge, his brother John, and his sister-in-law Jane were sent to the front lines. He now was a Staff Sergeant, going through the rankings rather quickly with his can do attitude and his resolve.  The men respected him, and the senior officers were more than happy to have a new face leading them into the fight.

His brother was in this group, lower ranking but they still worked together rather easily. Jane, was a nurse on the front lines helping those who needed it, soldier or civilian. During one raid, they thought they countered the enemy, they thought they had considered all options- unfortunately they didn’t, and the opposing military quickly overcame them. At the end of it all, Surge was blown out of his post and nearly lost his limbs and life, his brother was shot in the back multiple times after crossing in the line of fire, and Jane was killed in the explosion that hit her brother in law. 

The war continued another couple of years, Surge was sent to the hospital in a coma for months before waking up finally. He was honorably discharged and sent home after recovering from a bulk of the injuries. He grieved their death with his parents, who now were continuing to take care of their young son, Shaun. And he found out his finance had left him, not before cheating on him while he was  away. Surge turned to alcohol, and it would be another couple of years before his parents managed to get him into an intervention, and therapy for the mental trauma he endured.

Here, he decided to move to Kanto and start a new life with his nephew, give his parents the life they needed to enjoy, and figure out a new purpose for himself. He didn’t know the language, he didn’t even know anyone there. No one would hire him, and for a while he thought it was hopeless until he saw an ad for Team Rocket. It promised him great things, a chance to fit in, a family. A place to belong. So he went to see what he could contribute to the cause, blinded by the need to belong and find a purpose- a job to take care of Shaun, lovingly nicknamed Spark now. 

As it turns out, he was more useful than he thought, a former Staff Sergeant, and electrician, Surge was easily integrated into his new role as lead Trainer, training grunts into the organization, and lead Electrician. He managed to get his foot in the door of the Vermillion gym, a spot in the power house near by, and loved his jobs. He respected Giovanni, and along the way made two friends. He finally found something to live for, Spark was doing excellent, life was great.

Team Rocket has since been disband, but Surge has never really stopped being apart of it. He might not be doing much now, but should the need arise, they know where he is to call him back should they want for him.

[horsegirl1h]

Only Thing Left

Summary: John goes to Van Horn stable to retrieve the one of the only other things he would have left of Arthur, his horse.

Warnings: Angst, Grieving

A huge thank you to the lovely @verai-marcel for taking a look and giving me some pointers!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks after the events at Beaver Hollow, John was laying low at Copperhead Landing. He couldn't help but think of the last moments Arthur spent with his horse on the mountain. Remembering him talking about his other horse he kept in the Van Horn stable, John decided that he had to see if his horse was still there, hoping the stable owner hadn't thought to sell him since his owner hadn't come in for a while. The day John was getting ready to head out, Abigail wasn't too keen on the idea.

"Have you lost your mind John? We just escaped all this mess. Don't be a fool and walk right back into it!" she hissed in a harsh whisper, trying to keep her voice down so as not to wake Jack.

John ran a hand over his face, frustrated. "Abigail, listen, this is something I have to do. Arthur saved me. You know how he was about his horses. I have to at least see if it's still there. He would do it for me." He lowered his voice at the last sentence and looked away, but not without Abigail noticing the mournful look on John's face. 

She came up to him and put her hand on his forearm. 

"I'm sorry. I just...I just got you back and I don't want to lose you again." Her voice quavered as she spoke.

John put a hand on Abigail's cheek and gave her a small smile. "You ain't gettin' rid of me that easy woman. I'll be back before you know it." He wiped a stray tear from her face before giving her a kiss in its place. 

Waiting until after nightfall, John said his goodbyes to Abigail and rode to Van Horn from Copperhead Landing, straying from the main roads as best he could. 

He tried to suppress the memories that plagued him all at once. He missed the way things were before they all went to shit. Hell, even when they were at Horseshoe Overlook, he didn't think things were terrible. He missed Old Boy. He missed Sean annoying the hell out of everyone, Hosea and his brilliant schemes. He missed the laughter of the gang after a score was successful and called for a celebration.

But he missed Arthur most. 

Coming upon the stable, he could see there were a few horses outside in the pen, but none he recognized to be Arthur's. Trying not to get his hopes up, he hitched his borrowed Walker to the post outside and collected himself before walking in.

Here goes nothing. 

The stable owner was towards the back of the barn, giving hay to the night’s residents. Appreciative nickers could be heard as John stopped just inside the doorway. 

"Excuse me, sir?" 

The owner turns to look at John, albeit weary of his rather late night arrival. 

"Can I help you?"

John clears his throat and replies, "I'm sorry to bother you so late but I'm looking for a horse that belonged to a friend of mine. He uh..recently passed." 

"Well what kind of horse is it? You got any papers?" 

"I believe it's a Foxtrotter. Champagne in color. And no, I don't have papers. The only thing I can tell you was the man who owned him was named Arthur Callahan." John sighed, his hope of finding the horse slowly vanishing. 

The owner hummed in thought, seeming to decide if this man's story was true or not. 

"I think I remember the name. And we rarely have any that color out this way except for a handful. He's out back, but I'll warn ya, he ain't been too kind."

John followed the man behind the stable to a separate pen from the one he saw earlier. When he actually saw the horse with his own eyes, he was surprised, to say the least. 

"Thats…that's the one. But why is he separated from the others? And to be honest, he don't look that great." John stood next to the fence, hands on his hips in slight annoyance for the horse not being taken care of. 

"That horse ain't been right in a few weeks. I ain't puttin' myself or no one else in danger ‘cause he wants to be a bastard to anyone that gets within ten feet of him."

John turned to look back at the stallion, shaking his head. The horse was standing against the back of the pen, ears almost flat on his neck with his head lowered to the ground. He was dirty, and he looked like he could use a few bales of hay. 

"I'll tell ya what, if you can get close to him and lead him outta here he's yours. I'm tired of dealing with him." The stable owner nodded towards the troublesome horse before stalking off into the barn.

Turning back to the horse, John slowly walked through the gate and shut it behind him. He walked the perimeter of the pen, the stallion watching him as he went. The closer John got, the more anxious the stallion became. Snorts of anger and stomping of hooves caused John to take a few steps back. The movements brought back the memory of the day Arthur brought the beast into camp. They hadn't been at Shady Belle but maybe a few days when Arthur had brought him in from a day’s ride, with only a rope for a makeshift bridle.

*****

"Where'd you find that beauty?" John chuckled as he walked up to the pair and watched the stallion snort and stomp as Arthur dismounted. 

"Found some bastard tryin' to put a bullet in him after he ran him so hard he threw him damn near 'cross the river." Arthur gave the stallion a few pats and fed him, trying to calm the beast's nerves. 

"Christ Arthur, these mean ones will kill you one of these days." John chuckled as he shook his head at the older man. 

Arthur put a hand on John's shoulder and smirked. "Maybe so Marston, but at least if he throws me in the river, I can swim out." 

John rolled his eyes and shook off Arthur's hand in mock offense. "Real funny, Morgan."

*****

The memory that flooded John caused him to chuckle out loud. He only wished Arthur were here now to guide him.

John calmed himself as he backed up against the fence and sat down to watch the stallion, and waited. He pulled a carrot out of his satchel and gently tossed it toward the horse, who gave a snort and tossed his head. 

Minutes turned into hours, and soon the early signs of dawn were approaching. John was beginning to think it was a lost cause until he noticed the stallions body language had changed. He had walked closer to John, ears pricked forward although still uncertain the human before him could be trusted.

John stood up slowly and held his hands out toward the horse to see if he would get closer to smell him. 

"Easy boy, it's just you and me now. I won't hurt ya. C'mon, you don't want to stay here with that mean ol’ man, do ya?"

Slow, careful steps toward the horse. Now that the sun was rising, John could see the horse more clearly and just how bad of shape he really was. His ribs were almost showing and layers of dirt kept the sheen of his once shiny coat hidden. His mane and tail had tangles from a lack of brushing.  

The horse stayed rooted where he was standing, and to John's surprise he let him walk up to him, although the horse watched him closely. He sniffed John's hand and nickered. John carefully reached into his satchel and pulled out his brush and began to groom the dirt away. He felt a tugging at his satchel and turned to watch the horse. He was trying to get as close to his satchel as possible and even turned in towards John trying to get closer.

"What is it boy?" John dropped his hand by his side and he swore he could see the flash of recognition on the horse's face and that's when it dawned on him. He had on Arthur's satchel. He realized the horse could still smell Arthur's scent and kept nudging the satchel. He nickered softly and turned back the way he was before, his ears now in a neutral position, with his head lowered. 

John walked around to the front of the horse and put his hands on either side. The stallion stepped closer and rested his forehead against John's chest. 

He couldn't help but look up at the sky and let a tear fall down his face. He realized that the horse possibly knew Arthur wasn't coming for him and maybe he was even grieving himself? 

John let out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes as the ache in his heart overcame him. The stallion nudged him gently, almost as if he was trying to offer comfort. For the first time since everything went to hell, since he'd lost his best friend and had the only family he'd ever known ripped apart, he wept. 

The two of them could start healing together, a fresh start in a new place, the memory of Arthur imprinted on them both forever. 

[youknowjustfandomstuff]

TRoS: A Spoiler Review

Quick note: I just got back from seeing the film, so I’m sorry if this review comes off as overdramatic or harsh. My emotions are running high at the moment. So please view my thoughts knowing that!

Pros

Daisy Ridley’s performance was particularly phenomenal, as was Adam Driver’s and John Boyega’s. I wish the latter two were given more weighted scenes to work with.

The Leia scenes felt very believable in the story and were incorporated well.

Ben and Rey kiss. Basically all their scenes together were engaging and entertaining, but I credit that to the actors.

Naomi Ackie. I really liked what little we got of Jannah.

Cons

I’m not going to tag any of the writers, actors, or crew in my opinions, but TRoS was just so...stupid. As shown above, there were a few scenes I loved. But the rest made the hope inside me crumble to pieces. Let’s start at the beginning: the scroll.

Instead of giving us context of where the galaxy stands, the normally succinct but holistic scroll info dumps about Palpatine and the supposedly huge threat he poses to everyone, despite him being absent in the first two movies. 

Then our first shots reveal Kylo, and subsequently our heroes, looking for Sith wayfinders. Which every character takes in total stride. I get that there was a time jump, but the stakes aren’t just higher or lower than in the previous two films - they’re entirely new stakes, foreign to the plot of the sequel trilogy. 

Rose was side-lined to random generic one-liners, Finn spends half the movie hammering it into the audience’s skulls how worried he is about Rey (which like - fine, sure, we got that I guess from the 50,000 times you scream “REY!” but that’s mostly it. 

Poe at this point feels like a character who's been reconstructed about half a dozen times given all the different traits and histories pasted into him throughout this trilogy. I like his relationship with Finn, but part of me wonders guiltily if maybe he should’ve died in TFA. We spend wasted time in TRoS learning more about his past, which I can’t imagine anyone cares too deeply about at this point...I mean, it’s the final film. 

Besides, we’re too busy learning all the answers to Rey’s lineage. They couldn’t have just let it rest. I’m not against exploring more of her history with her family, but the way Rey gets bludgeoned over with questions about her “family name” and the painfully-constructed concern the movie crafts for learning just who Rey’s parents are was tiresome and irritating.

- Pause for quick spoiler-y rant, possibly with swearing:

I fucking hate that they turned Rey’s parents into parents who loved her and only left her on Jakku to spare her life. Like, it couldn’t possibly be that any parents would abandon their child on a desert planet and have her fend for herself. Rey just wouldn’t have been able to come back from that, they had to have loved her. There was so much potential for her character to be someone who overcame parental neglect, a really relatable struggle that I don’t think is explored enough. To me, this swerve took something important away from her character. I kinda burn with grief when I think about it too much.

Rey Palpatine. I’m sorry, but that was the most ridiculous theory I’d ever heard of. I’m pretty sure it was even joked about by the actors during TLJ press. I have no words, only laughable disbelief.

All the fake “deaths” - except for when it mattered. In this film, we see Chewie get exploded in a ship and are led to believe that Threepio’s memory gets wiped for good. Both are cheerfully explained away with dubious excuses. And yet, you’re telling me you can’t come up with a Force reason to resurrect Ben Solo who shares a powerful force bond with Rey? There’s not Force power that can bring him back? If nothing else, they could at least have had the decency to show him as a force ghost in the end, or show Rey looking for a way to bring him back. I understood Vader dying. He’d gotten his trilogy as Anakin. But Ben Solo was a young man who’d just found redemption and love. I hate this message of redemption = death. It’s bullish*t. He already “died” when Rey stabbed him on the waterfront - there are such things as metaphorical deaths in stories. Killing him off felt wrong and utterly hopeless. This was not Star Wars.

Overall, the writers basically abandoned the sequel trilogy in favor of resurrecting already resolved plots from the OG trilogy, and then re-finished them off in confusing and pathetic ways. In doing so, this movie rendered so many actions of the past films weightless. And I’m not even talking about killing Ben, which is what personally hurt me the most. TRoS is jarring in how it screams “this is the end!” with every scene, somehow attempting to provoke nostalgia but warping the feel of the whole saga in the process. I wasn’t even buying what I was watching by the end. 

I’m sure there’s more I’ll think of later, but my brain is too overwhelmed. A disappointing conclusion that I will likely rewrite/finish in my head.

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

A Letter to Rev. Moon

Dear Reverend Moon,

Although you have passed into the spirit world, your followers say you are now omniscient and omnipresent so I feel I can still address this letter directly to you.

I myself followed you for a number of years, received your blessing and looked forward to living in the society of co-prosperity you promised us (DP page 445). It took me some time to realize that prosperity was only meant to be enjoyed by yourself and your family, because as you said:

‘The only thing that matters is that my children take up positions as the leaders of the cosmos.’

There are of course a fair number of church leaders who also manage to enjoy a modicum of prosperity – which is, I’m afraid, the only reason why many are still ‘believers’.

I know you deserved to enjoy the good things of life to make up for all the indemnity you say you kept paying. Unfortunately, I’m still unsure about your indemnity – in all the years I knew about you I never saw you working, cooking for yourself, doing your own laundry, making your own travel arrangements, doing your own tax returns, taking any care of individual members or even of your own children, so apart from giving directions to your assistants and talking to church members, what was the indemnity you say you kept paying? Ah! It must have been prayer. No, I’m afraid not:

‘I haven’t prayed for the last twenty years. Mother was very surprised to see me start praying again, but I knew the time would come when I had to guide Heavenly Father.’ USA 1999

So you started praying again in order to guide God, very considerate. So if you weren’t paying indemnity by praying how were you doing it? Fasting? Not according to your overworked kitchen staff. Ah! Fishing for long periods? But you loved fishing, and like most fishermen, you were happy to stay out all day. So maybe it was talking to the members for long hours? But again you loved that – all the adoration and sycophantic applause. No, sorry, you’ve got me beat– I can’t see the indemnity anywhere.

Something else I’ve found difficult to understand is to do with the matching and blessing. I was originally given to believe that God was working through you during the matching process, but on at least two occasions in Europe you matched physical brothers and sisters together, and I heard of it happening in Japan and America also. So what gives? I know you said in one of your speeches that Jesus should have married John the Baptist’s sister – who according to you would have been his half-sister – so maybe such relationships are allowable in your kingdom of heaven. Either way, you changed those matchings after being informed they were brothers and sisters, but isn’t it strange that God didn’t know about them?

So anyway blessed couples are supposed to produce children substantially free of original sin, and your children are especially pure – being the progeny of the messiah and his bride. But, I then read one of your speeches where you said, ‘I knew this time would come, (when some of my children would disunite with me) maybe I should turn to the son of the concubine. The children of the concubine are better because there is more passion.’ (involved in their conception) Korea 1996

Now here I’m really mystified. If the child of your concubine is better than those from your marriage, where does this leave the idea of the blessing?

Let me think awhile. Adam and Eve fell because they had sex out of wedlock – they fornicated and because of that the original sin was passed down through the generations. So, the messiah, the Second Advent, is supposed to restore this by establishing the blessed marriage (the marriage of the lamb) and then the children from that marriage are supposed to born without original sin and establish a new lineage, thereby creating the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth.

So where does the excuse for the concubine come from? In order to restore the sin of fornication does the messiah have to commit it again but this time for God’s sake? Does he have to restore Cain’s sin by murdering someone for God’s sake? What about all the other sins? Where does it end?

I know you were trying to restore gambling by spending many hours in casinos. I also know you said you had to enjoy the luxuries of life sometimes, because otherwise when the rich people die and go to the spirit world they would be ashamed in front of you – because they enjoyed the high life and you didn’t. So you stayed in luxurious hotels, were driven around in expensive cars and flew in private airplanes all for the sake of the rich people, again very considerate.

You know, I really have to come back to this concubine thing. If, as you said, the children of the concubine are better than those from a blessed marriage then surely that means the blessing has no value whatsoever, and that blessed children are no different to any other. That must also mean there is no restoration providence and that you weren’t really the messiah after all.

I’m sorry Reverend but I’m starting to have serious doubts about this whole business.

Another aspect of your vaunted dispensation that I found confusing was your use of numbers. Most of the people counted in the 360 million couples blessing didn’t even know they were blessed. For example, in India sachets of holy wine were thrown into reservoirs and anyone drinking from them was counted as being blessed. The amazing thing is, however, that you then announced that all the newly blessed couples should now make a ‘total living offering’ of $10,000 and come to Jardim Training Center in Brazil for a workshop.

Considering that $10,000 is more than most of these Indians will see in a lifetime, that they don’t even have a hope of affording a flight to Brazil, and that they have no idea they’ve been blessed, then surely your expectation of 360 million couples turning up at Jardim with suitcases full of cash was a little fanciful to say the least.

This ancestor liberation is something else I find confusing. After only a few thousand members had attended these liberation ceremonies it was announced that 36 billion ancestors had been liberated. Later it was said that more than 360 billion had been liberated. Now considering the most generous statistics state that only about 150 billion people have ever lived on this planet in the past, I’m left wondering where the other 210 billion are from. Mars maybe? Maybe all these numbers are just symbolic – except of course until it comes to financial offerings.

I was extremely happy to read your speech of June 14th 1999 where you said,

‘There are no more hardships or indemnity.’

Again on Sept. 9th 1999

‘Satan has completely surrendered.’

Sept. 10th 1999

‘Therefore the time when Satan can oppose us is passed.’

And finally my favorite was on Oct. 27th 1999

‘No more indemnity is needed. The providence of restoration is completed.’

However, after Young Jin’s suicide in Las Vegas (as reported by the Las Vegas Police Department) you changed your tune yet again.

Nov. 14th 1999

‘Take responsibility by paying indemnity.

‘Satan tried to attack True Parents directly.’

‘Can you live a life of complete indemnity?’

Now while I have every sympathy for the loss of Young Jin, who appears to have been a very nice young man, this still does not explain this complete contradiction in your speeches. If Satan had completely surrendered how was he still able to attack your family? And if the providence of restoration is completed why were you asking the church members to continue paying indemnity? (Which anyway appears to be a waste of time because you said,

‘Did you pay indemnity? No. Only Father and Mother together did.’)

I’m getting really confused now, because you said on Aug. 8th 1999

‘The lord of the Second Advent is a person with no property.’

However, on Jan. 2nd 1996 you were boasting as follows:

‘You may not know, but I already own a small airplane company and have several airplanes.’ And you also said ‘In Montevideo I built a landmark hotel, which is the biggest and the best in South America.’

‘I have the desire to become the richest person in the world…’ Dec. 1st 1997

‘I could buy a Mercedes Benz 600 series if I wanted to.’ Feb. 13th 1997

And I suppose the palace at Cheongpyeong and the new one on Geomun island off the coast south of Yeosu are solely for God to live in. Oh, my mistake. I forgot you had become ‘the god of the day’, the incarnation of God on earth.

There are actually quite a few of your statements that I have difficulty with:

‘While Oriental people sleep on their backs and face God, asking Him to embrace them, Westerners sleep on their stomachs, facing down like animals; that’s why free sex and homosexual problems predominate in the Western hemisphere.’

Has the world really waited 2000 years to receive such wisdom from the Second Advent?

‘I did not blink my eyes for three hours once. So I overcame the number three.’

It’s lucky number three didn’t call in four and five or you’d have been well hammered.

‘A woman who does not love Father is not a complete woman: something must be lacking.’

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the most delusional of all?

‘Our goal is to create a world where everyone has affection for me.’

Really? So whose definition of the Kingdom of Heaven would that be then?

‘That is why widows, widowers and people who do not marry are to be pitied. They have no place to settle in love, so they just fade away. They have no foundation for eternal existence.’ Feb. 7th 1999

So all the monks and nuns, all the young unmarried soldiers who died in war, (even the Korean one that was supposed to have been fought just to save you,) all the children who have died throughout history – all of these poor souls will just fade away and have no place in the spiritual world?

I’m afraid your concept of the Kingdom, whether it be in this world or the next, appears to be very cold and heartless – and does not reflect anything of God’s loving parental nature.

‘A person with no descendants will have no place to rest or play in the next world.’ Feb. 4th 1999

So all the church sisters who were kept fundraising for so long that when starting their married life they were too old to have children, they will have nowhere to rest or play in the spirit world?

Let’s get this straight, Jesus, the Dalai Lama, and all those celibates throughout history who honestly dedicated their lives to God or the betterment of mankind, they will just fade away, but someone like Genghis Khan, who was responsible for the slaughter of millions but fathered hundreds of children, after serving his time in hell he will eventually be able to live it up in heaven? Give me a break!

When I originally joined your church we were told that the dwelling place of God was in the ‘Original Mind’ of man. This apparently was some unpolluted area of the spirit mind that always directs man towards goodness. Now, however, His abode appears to have changed.

‘My sexual organ is the original palace of love… the palace where God can dwell.’ Jan. 1st 1997

This to me would seem a rather appalling drop in living standards to inflict upon the Almighty. I also find it a little difficult to understand, because surely you don’t take that organ with you when you enter heaven, whereas your spirit mind is eternal (unless of course you are unmarried).

Anyway, maybe I should put aside all my doubts, sell everything I possess and use the money for a trip to Cheongpyeong. I could then donate much of the cash to liberate the spirits of the Martians or Venusians or whoever we’re liberating now. I’ve heard the people in charge of Cheongpyeong are also selling houses in the spirit world – very useful because it means you don’t have to spend time finding a real estate agent once you cross over, because you know what crooks real estate agents can be.

              Yours in search of sanity and a good laugh,      

              Sloe Gin

P.S. All of these quotations were carefully checked against the original Korean.

_______________________________________

Unification Church shampoo for evil spirits

Cheongpyeong: Evil spirits stop Korean and Japanese women from having children.

“Ancestor Liberation must be done” Hak Ja Han 2015

Sun Myung Moon and Hak Ja Han bow to a pig’s head

Moon is God’s original sperm

Sperm in the Holy Wine of the Unification Church

[anerdquemoraaolado]

Through Chrissie’s eyes

Stubborn Patient

They insisted that I should go home, including Brian, but I couldn't leave him there. At least that first night at the hospital I wanted to stay there. Dr. Reeves who had attended and cared for my husband so far ended up agreeing. John Reid and the boys said goodbye to us, wishing Brian could get well soon.

Now I was sitting in the chair where Roger was before, watching my husband, no matter how tired and weak he was, Brian refused to sleep.

"You must rest," I insisted.

"And you, too," he muttered back, "I didn't want to give you all this trouble, I worried you, I made everyone worried, even Roger was in despair."

"John told me how you were, it wasn't an exaggeration their reaction," I said, "but ..."

I stopped talking as I realized that what I would say out loud would sound strange and even cruel criticism. Since knowing Brian I knew that being a musician was one of his biggest dreams, and now he was living it all, shows and more shows, trips, recordings, but I figured that all that rush was what had probably made him sick. As much as it was a dream, was all this madness worth it? It was unfair for me to make such a comparison, I couldn't measure things that way. If I were to stop to think, all the professions had a risk.

It wasn't only that which had made me sad, the way the receptionist barred me, as if I were a mere stranger, or a reckless fan taking advantage of the situation, it was as if I were being forbidden to see my husband just because he was a famous guitarist and I could be pretending to be his wife just to see him. How absurd!

I didn't notice that I was staring at the bedroom door, one hand on my chin, my index finger tapping nervously on my cheek until Brian called.

"Chrissie, what's wrong?" I turned to Brian and noticed how worried he was.

"I ..." I tried to recover from my daydreaming "I was just wondering if ... Did you feed yourself and rest properly during your trip? Maybe that's why you got sick."

"I rested as best I could, but maybe it was an accumulation of tiredness," he said thoughtfully, "about the disease, I'm calmer now, I'm just worried about you."

"I'm fine, Bri," I tried to disguise, "I think all we need now is to get some sleep."

"Okay," he insisted no longer, the tiredness finally overcame him.

I lay on his chest, hugging him tightly, being with him there reminded me that regardless of what had happened and what I had thought, at that moment he was just my husband, who promised to love me forever, to the rest of our lives, no matter the circumstances.

The next morning, however reluctant I was, I returned home and left in order what I needed. Dr. Reeves, after doing some more tests, concluded that it would take four months for Brian to fully recover. He accepted this time with some sadness. One thing that Brian hated was to be standing idle for a long time while he could be studying a new scientific fact or making new music. But it was more than that that worried him. I also saw that to keep up with his state I would have to leave my job for a while.

"Don't do that, Chrissie" Brian told me when I told him, "you can't stop your life for me ..."

"It's not what I'm doing, seriously, it's my decision, you need me, I love you and I will take care of you, don't start with"stop your life for me," you are a very, very important part of my life, Brian understood?" I sounded kind of angry, but he understood that it was for his own good.

Sometimes we let our insecurity show. In the midst of this situation, a truce that arose between us was that we agreed I'd spend the day at the hospital and sleep at home. Gradually we got used to this hospital routine, the boys and the girls came to see us always, and for now Queen had stopped all their activities.

"That's not right, folks," Brian snapped when they told him about the break "I'm ... not helping... you should ..."

"Continue the band without you? Replace you?" Freddie guessed it "yeah, maybe we'll do it ... Maybe we'll get a smarter guitarist than you ..."

"As if you could find another astrophysicist guitarist out there" John added.

"It's serious, guys" Brian laughed, but then he grimaced, feeling the pain of the medicine "I'm afraid, even if you put someone in my place ..."

"Nobody will replace you!" Roger hit the bed, which made Brian moan in pain again "sorry ... But if they do it, they'll get a lesson from me."

"It's good to know that you miss me ..." My husband smiled at his friends, moved.

Roger, Freddie, and John said good-bye, and when we were alone, I had to ask.

"Did you really fear Bri, of having to leave the band?" that was enough to break my heart, and forget all the bad consequences of fame.

"I don't want to have to do this ever" Bri couldn't contain his tears. "They're my family, Chrissie."

"I know, and you saw, if you depend on them, you're not going anywhere," I said firmly, so he wouldn't doubt it.

"My love, do me a favor?" Brian called again.

"Of course, tell me" I was willing to take his request.

"When you go home, take and bring my notebook and Red Special" he told me, making that face that could convince me always, but not now.

"No way!" I disagree and made a face "you are in recovery and rest, that face of yours won't work now, no sir, and besides, this is a hospital, you know, there is a basic rule that you need to be quiet, and playing a guitar does make noise, so I'm sorry, my love, but I won't be able to do that."

"Chrissie ..." Brian covered his eyes with his hands and began to laugh, I didn't know if it was of anger, frustration or of my face.

"Yoy can laugh how much you want, I won't bring your guitar" I giggled, too.

"So do this" my husband took a deep breath, ready to propose another truce "arrange a piece of paper and a pen for me to at least write,it doesn1t take that much effort to write."

"All right" I was able to agree and I granted this request.

Even as he lay back on the hospital bed, Brian wrote and muttered a melody, the way he was use to composing. As enthusiastic as he was, that composition would have to wait a little longer to be ready.

[packhuntcr]

☼ - appearance headcanon

Ahhhhhhh Jakey-boi. My walking contradiction.

Dude simultaneously cannot give a single solitary fuck… and is shockingly vain. Like let’s take a look at this little shit:

Credit to @hollandvalleythotpatrol for the photos. What would I do without Banni? Maybe she’ll write him for me next.

Handsome motherfucker. There’s a lot going on there. Like dude is scarred as fuck, obviously. Chemical burns, rashes [Gulf war syndrome, anyone?], dirty as all get out. Actually, that’s pretty fuckin’ clean for Jacob. I still insist his jeans would stand up on their own. But… lots of evidence Jacob doesn’t care about his appearance. Buuutttttt also a good bit of time invested into it as well. His beard’s trimmed, kept fairly neat. No ZZ-Top knock offs here. I’m 80% sure that’s dirt on his neck, not stubble. The same transfers over to Jacob’s hair. Shaved close, no peachfuzz stubble rising on the sides. Plainly, Jacob kept the military habits up {once he decided to live rather than wait to die}. Speaking of haircuts: Jacob’s pushing those army regulations.  

“The hair on the top of the head must be neatly groomed and may not be trendy, spiky, or disheveled in appearance. The hair must be tapered and conform to the shape of the head, and the neckline must be tapered. Hair must not be allowed to fall over the ears or touch the collar (except that the taper at the neckline may extend past the collar).”

My Lieutenant Colonel at Fort Hood brother says he wouldn’t consider Jacob’s hair Army Regulation without a good trim [my brother’s also a hard ass and annoyed by me, so take that with a grain of salt and me hearing what I want to hear]. So Jacob’s gone a little rogue here. Neatly trimmed sides, maintaining the shape, but “too long on top”. Who can blame him? At 47 (presumably) he’s still got a nice, thick head of hair. Not a grey in sight. Buttt… if we look at his beard here:

It’s a bit patchier on this side, thinner where the scarring encroaches on the jaw. So it’s safe to assume that his scarred skin has been damaged to such a point that it doesn’t reliably grow hair. And let’s keep looking at that scarring. It extends up the temple and into the hairline.

This side:

–shows the same thing: scarring into the temple, a patch above the ear that looks to be a graze or more of that chemical burning. If the scars aren’t growing hair consistently, Jacob with a full head of hair is going to be patchy. And not receding hairline patchy, but inconsistent male pattern baldness patchy. Das es no bueno [ignore my bullshit German/Spanish hybrid. I’m tired and have to ramble to get this shit out onto the page].  Jacob’s vain–again once he decides to give a shit and participate in life. {and can you blame the handsome bastard. Even all scarred up he’s a looker] So he’s gonna cover this… or shave it off. But nooo not completely, Remember that full head of thick red hair? So does Jacob. He likes his red hair. He likes that he carries only a passing resemblance to their father. A father that was too uneducated and stubborn to realize that red is just a recessive gene and yes, Jacob is, in fact, Old Mad Seed’s child. But, Jacob enjoyed the fantasy that maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he wasn’t that sadistic old bastard’s git. So he likes the red hair the old man hates and keeps shaved close most of Jacob’s young life. He likes that he doesn’t quite fit in with the family. So he’s keeping the hair, even all these years later. Best of both worlds it is. Long on top where there’s minimal scarring, shaved away on the sides that would be patchy. Work what you got, boy. 

Moving on!

Jacob’s god-awful clothes. Jesus. You bet your ass there’s more than one hole ripped in the crotch of those poor jeans. The man’s like a walking stress-tester for denim. I swear to god--I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again-- those jeans are so grime-coated and interwoven with sweat and dirt that Jacob could step out of them and they’d remain upright as if he hadn’t. 

They’re ripped to fuck and then neatly patched. And it’ll just keep going. An endless cycle of clothing abuse until that article is so beat to hell and cobbled together that it’s but a ghost of the original. That’s pretty much his habit. Undoubtedly John purchased an abundance of clothes after they brought Jacob home like a puppy. And Jacob still has most of them: neatly folded, tags intact, tucked into a drawer somewhere in Saint Francis for when he needs them. He does this thing where he doesn’t keep more than two or three of each article of clothing. He also just doesn’t wear underwear because it’s a pain in the ass. Just enough clothing for a change, something to wear on the rare occasions he’s actually washing the other set or needs to be cleaned up quickly. As soon as something wears out beyond redemption, he grabs one single solitary replacement to throw into the rotation. 

Part of it’s practicality-- using something as long as he possibly can, keeping things ready for a future need somewhere down the road. The man loathes excess and waste. Another part is that apathy that overcame him for years when he’d lost what he saw as his only purpose and the army declared him unfit for service. Meh, Jacob wants only to be clothed and doesn’t much care what in as long as it’s practical. The exception being his BDU jacket. He’s got an attachment to that, to the purpose he held while wearing it and how his service shaped his identity. Everything else? Fuck it. Jacob Seed will wear pink with purple polkadots... as long as it’s functional and blends in with the environment.  

Another thing I’ve noticed is that Jacob’s got pretty shit posture, which I find surprising for a military man. The only exception is in two circumstances-

1. He’s on display. Think of him peacocking his way over to stand behind Joseph during the initial arrest. Dude is ramrod straight--also sexually, but we’re not going there today-- shoulders back, chin up, chest pushed out. Why? He’s got purpose. He’s there to protect, to intimidate, to lead his troops. So he’s going to present something worthy of that function, of the leadership.

The instant he’s out of sight? When he’s unwatched? Instant slope shoulders, watching the ground as he walks. Because there’s very little pride in himself, pride in Jacob Seed rather than The Soldier. 

Look at him here, in front of the Deputy and Pratt:

Neither one much matters to Jake. Pratt’s a human squeaky toy to the man. The deputy’s a tool. No need to parade. No need to intimidate. Why bother? He doesn’t have to prove he’s above these two. He knows he is. To him, pea-cocking in front of those two would be like showing off for a leaf-blower. So he’s relaxed, shoulders not quite rounded, but certainly no military bearing.

Compared to here:

See the difference? Guess what: he’s working again, giving his ‘Cull the weak’ speech. Fuck, sorry, how far I’m scrolled down on the page is giving me an eyeful of thigh-holster... wow. Thank you, UbiSoft

Alright back on topic.

But Jacob’s working. He’s serving a purpose. His purpose. So he gives enough of a fuck to scrape together his pride and stand upright, project the image that Joseph and the Project need from him. He sure as shit won’t do it for himself. 

Exception number 2. While holding a rifle. Which is really just more of the above. Blahblahblah purpose. Buuuttttt... there’s also a good bit of pride in that. Jacob grew up poor in the suburbs. Maybe there was an old family shotgun. Maybe. But, I very much doubt he ever had opportunity to use it [other than plans for Old Mad Seed the next time the bastard hit John]. Same goes for at the slave-labor foster family. If there’d been ready access to and familiarity with a weapon, you bet your ass Jacob would have shot the man rather than hit him with an axe handle. Sure as shit not getting hands on a weapon while in Juvie soooo the first time Jacob handles a firearm is in Basic.

And the kid’s shit with the fine arts. He’s absolutely dyslexic {More detail coming on that in the next HC post} and not inclined toward flowery things. But... he’s got math down. Understands geometry and physics quite easily. So understanding a sight picture is gonna come naturally. He’ll understand how to adjust that picture to compensate for drop, changes in elevation, weather, etc. So he’s already got the bones of a good shot. Pair that with shooting well is likely the first time this kid has heard any kind of praise? He’s gonna throw himself into it. 

Every chance he has, Jacob is out there throwing hot lead down the range. For hours at a time, days on end. Surely he has a few favored weapons, but, for the most part, he’s got a handle on anything you throw his way. Natural talent plus dedicated practice and Jacob’s a terrifyingly good shot. An amry Expert Marksman badge good shot. Which means hitting 36-40 stationary and pop-up targets of 40 during qualification testing in supported prone, unsupported prone, and foxhole positions. Jacob got 39. Under pressure. I haven’t played the game (motion sickness can’t handle FPS), but I’m told that he outstrips Grace Armstrong, who was an Olympic medalist, as a GFH in terms of accuracy. Which very well may just come down to years of experience and the ability to practice daily. So the point of that long ramble isssss: he’s proud of himself with a rifle. It’s the only time he’s standing upright even without observation and not directly related to his purpose within the Project. 

Everyone’s favorite Sasquatch for demonstration:

So the final thought I have, I’ve already touched on: Jacob’s gangling appearance. I’m just gonna link that here and then just run through the basics

Basically, Jacob is not meant to be a lean man. Look at the size of his hands compared to his forearms. Look that he’s basically a column from shoulder to hip. I mean, he was never going to be a Chris Evans Inverted Dorito, but dude should have a bit of tapering from shoulder to waist. He’s a man who had a good bit of bulk to him in his twenties and early thirties, a man who filled out the frame the genetic lottery threw his way (because John and Joseph don’t have the same shape as Jacob. They’re both built on lithe, tapering lines. It’s redhead, recessive gene, trial run Seed who only shares the blue eyes and a single freckle on the left nostril with John). Jacob is meant to be a big fucking boy. He’s made to carry broad shoulders and a powerful chest, strong arms. But look at him! He’s lanky, his bones are larger than the muscling on them. By the time we see him in Hope County, Jacob’s been out of the military since the mid- to late-nineties. In that time he’s experienced extreme muscle deterioration from damn near starving to death in the desert. Then he’s severely traumatized, obsessed with hoarding away food so he’s not eating what he should to gain back all that muscle lost. And he never will. That obsession with taking just enough, with keeping himself moving, but never indulging in excess. And bulking up requires excess. Maintaining that bulk requires excess. Jacob’s not the ‘I’ll pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today’ type. He’s budgeting for the looming nuclear winter, for increases in population with decreasing resources. So Jacob stays skinny. Fed. Functional. Certainly no wilting flower... but, comparatively, skinny.

Soooo yeah. I’m petering out on the manic HC fest. 

All photo credit to one Banni of @hollandvalleythotpatrol You’re a gem and I love you. The gif... I lost the original source. Someone not rushing to go to work can point me toward a source if they’re so inclined or it can wait until I get home and have time.

Next up are HCs on Jacob’s family and hobbies/quirks

[aussie-the-hedgehog]

Fighting to Rest

Life can be hectic. Commitments are everywhere. Work, family, friends, the list goes on. While we enjoy these things, we easily get burnt out when we do not make time for ourselves. We get so wrapped up into all we do that we neglect self-care.

Has it ever felt like you wake up one minute, then it’s time for bed the next? 

I know I have felt that way lately.

It feels like one minute I am doing my morning devos before work, and then the next I am changing into my pajamas and getting into bed for the night. It is crazy just how fast life can go if we do not stop to listen.

Rarely have I made the time to just rest under the grace and sovereignty of God, knowing I am His, and enjoying the reality that I am His child because of my trust in Christ for the forgiveness of my sins. With life going so fast around me, I need to slow down more often and rest under His tender mercy.

This is where the main topic of the post comes in - a song about how we fight to rest in the mercy and grace of God.

Tenth Avenue North wrote a song entitled, “The Spark” on their album Cathedrals, released in 2014. It is a song that encapsulates how we are to slow down and rest in whose we are amidst the busyness of life.

In Scripture, it seems we are given two sets of commands. There are strong commands that declare, “Run the race with perseverance,” “Fight the good fight,” and “Make every effort.” 

Yet, there are gentle ones that come in the Bible as well, such as “Take my yoke and rest,” “Be still and know that I am God,” and “There is no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus.” 

Which is it then? Are we supposed to run or be still? Should we run the race of faith for God, or rest in His grace? Which path do we pick?

Actually, we do both. Lead singer Mike Donehey said in a devotional about the song, “We do battle with our minds and deceptive hearts so we might lay our souls down upon the grace of God.”

Yes, you read that correctly. We fight to rest. We are to daily submit our fickle mind to the restful grace God has provided for us. 

This is no easy task though. The Christian life is a battlefield. Throughout His ministry, Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble” (Jn. 16:33), and “You will be hated by all for my Name’s sake” (Mt. 10:22). The apostle Paul, in the last chapter of his letter to the Ephesians, used the analogy of a knight’s armor to portray the intense battle of spiritual warfare. He said in v.12, “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” He also went on to say in his second letter to Timothy, “Indeed, all who desire to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (3:12). 

In reading all this, you are probably feeling overwhelmed. There are not only the daily commitments of life. There is spiritual warfare with the devil himself, and the guarantee of persecution. How can we possibly fight to rest if we have all this trouble around us? Is rest even possible? 

I am here to tell you it is more than possible. I say this not because of our performance, but His. After Jesus said in John 16:33, “In this world you will have trouble,” He goes on to say, “But take heart; I have overcome the world.” Through His life ministry and death on the cross, Christ overcame every evil in the world and now reigns at the Father’s right hand.

Furthermore, in that same passage in Ephesians 6 where Paul talks about spiritual warfare, he also encourages readers to “put on the armor of God.” This includes “the gospel of peace” as shoes for your feet (v.15), a “shield of faith” for defending yourself against Satan’s attacks (v..16), a “helmet of salvation” to remind you of whose you are (v.17), and the “sword of the Spirit,” which is the piercing Word of the Scriptures (v.18).

These Scriptures convey to us that God has equipped us well to fight the battle of the faith. He gave us His Son, the ultimate sacrifice. Not to mention, Jesus endured every temptation in His ministry (Hebrews 4:15). He is with us always in the battle (Matthew 28:20). Also, He has given us many weapons to combat the devil - the gospel, the faith that God is perfecting in us, and the Scriptures. 

The Christian life guarantees persecution. It guarantees trials and tribulations. The devil will not stop telling lies to the children of God. He will continue to trip them up day after day. I also circle back to our daily lives. There are commitments everywhere. Our schedules are constantly crammed with things to do. 

May we lay our doing down at the foot of the cross daily. Let us lay every burden that binds us to Jesus. He not only can handle them better than us, but He also invites us to do it. I mentioned it earlier, but Christ said in Matthew 11:28, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

Father, may we all heed Christ’s gentle command to come as we are. Life throws us in all sorts of directions, and we are quick to run to anything else to give us comfort. When trouble comes our way, may we rest in the mighty yet merciful name of Jesus, who brings everlasting comfort and peace. May we fix our eyes on Him daily, knowing He is with us and will never let us go. Give us the grace to remind ourselves of whose we are before we begin each day. “You are where my soul finds rest

You are where I lay my head

Your grace lets me catch my breath,

and lets me fall into Your arms again”