#and none of it requires the presence of a man to happen! crazy stuff right

[sexcandle]

the nature of trekkism is such one is even more passionate abt the episodes one hates than the ones one loves. because its like 90% of the time the premise itself is not without potential but somewhere along the way 20th century writers writing abt a 24th century world lost their fight with 20th century mindsets and the result is just extremely frustrating

[liptonsbabe]

Havoc [Thomas]

A Maze Runner fanfiction

//

Summary: When the reader, the second-in-command of the village goes out into the maze looking for a way out, the last thing she hopes to find is a whole new community on the other side of the walls. Much less, when it seems to be inhabited only by boys her age.

Warnings: none

A/N: Hey! This is my very first fanfic here and i decided to start with some tmr stuff ;) English not my mother language so please let me know if something is wrong. Anyways, enjoy!

Chapter one: Leaving home

YOU WAKE UP THAT DAY WITH AN INCREDIBLE MOOD, although things in the village were not encouraging at all.

The dew hadn't fallen yet when you were already in front of the maze, impatiently waiting for the doors to open. You were carrying a backpack with the breakfast on your back, the belt resting on your hips, and an awl strategically hidden in your back pocket.

You didn't understand why your heart was beating so fast even if the night before had been the worst of all. The disease was progressing, it was devastating the village and the parents were leaving their children alone. You trembled in your place. You've never seen anything like that before. The illness, the confusion, the tiredness, the agony. The desease was ending with all of you. If you and the trackers didn’t find a way out as you had promised, then the village would be devastated.

You couldn't allow it. You weren't going to give up. Maybe the answer was out there, waiting for you and you weren't going to keep it waiting.

Maybe the feeling of your restless heart was a good sign. Maybe your heart was sensing things that you could not know and, with a little bit of luck, get it right as he almost always did.

The village had exits from its four points, so, as the sun was in the west that day, you decided to start with the east gate, considering it a good sign. You pulled your hair up in a high ponytail, ate an apple as fast as you could, and waited for the doors to move.

A curtain of dust and pebbles rose in front of your face as you listened the doors opening. That day the main corridor to the maze had a strange smell, but you thought that your nose was already damaged by the medicines and infusions that you had been smelling in the nursery, so you ignored it. You adjusted your boots waiting for the stench to disperse when a strong pull carried you backwards, scaring you.

“What the hell...? Asenat! "You muttered releasing the grip on your shirt. The girl smiled haughtily, crossing her arms over her chest “How many times do I have to tell you to not pull me like that? I hate being pulled!

“You can do it as many times as you want, I honestly don't care, I'll keep doing it anyways”

“You're an idiot”

“Where do you think you are going?” Cassidy asked, standing next to Asenat, both of them staring at you with their arms crossed over their chests and frowning. You rolled your eyes

“To do my job, the same as you should be doing right now”

"You are no longer a tracker”

“I am the leader, I can give myself that position”

"Second leader," Asenat corrected you, "After Richard, and he was the one who gave you the order to stay in the village, remember?"

You clicked your tongue as the trackers were already leaving to the maze. Asenat caught your shirt between her fingers again preventing you from running. Cassidy sighed, shaking her head. If something was clear to them about you, it was how stubborn you could be.

“Yes, I remember”

"Do you still have those headaches?"

"No," you lied. You'd been feeling terrible headaches for a couple of weeks now, before Richard fell sick from what the villagers called the glow. The man, who was also a tracker, had found you in the middle of your section with a terrible bruise on the back of your head and a pool of blood surrounding you. He carried you to the village, and when you were sufficiently recovered, you mentioned having a terrible pain and falling unconscious hitting the stone. Richard didn't need to know more to remove you from your job, forbidding you to return to the maze until your headaches were better. Until the night before you hadn't felt any pain, so you assumed you were fine “I'm great, don't worry about me. It was an accident”

"Yeah, are you sure?"

“Completely”

"Even if it were so, you are not allowed to go out," Cassidy said, determined. "We need you here, my friend."

"I'll be back before dark”

"Things don't work that way anymore," Cassidy replied, looking at you with a frown. "Richard hasn't died yet." His rules are still ours and since when we can do whatever we want?

“Don’t say it like that”

"You know Richard is not going to survive" Asenat lowered her voice preventing any other villagers from hearing her "he will die like the rest of the infected and when that happens all this will be over. We can continue with the rules that he made, but that will not be enough. There are families dying every day, our duty is to take care of them. We have a pact, okay? Treat the disease first, look for a way out later”

"How long are we going to keep waiting?" You asked, taking a step forward. Asenat sighed, "Three? Four? Another five years? This place is falling apart. If we really want to help the remaining villagers we need to find a way out, take them home, give them a better life, heal them "

"Nobody assures us that we will be better out there than here"

"Let's take the risk, we won't lose anything just by trying"

"We have kids in here, even babies. Their parents have died and they depend on us.

"This time it will be different" you said looking at them pleadingly "It's crazy, but something tells me that today we will find the answers we have been looking for. I could assure you that. Do you believe me? Do you trust me enough to believe in what my heart feels?”

Cassidy and Asenat looked at each other. Richard was still sick, confined to his cabin with the doctors trying to keep him alive. The night before he had lost part of the skin on his arms and his uncontrollable anger had made them tie him to the bed, however, that didn’t mean that in his small lapses of serenity he did not realize what was happening in the village.

Asenat shrugged her arms, leaving the decision to Cassidy. In her role as a teacher, she had no say in that situation and she didn't really care too much. You were reckless and almost always clumsy, but you had good ideas and that had helped you become te mainstay of the village. However Cassidy as the third in charge represented the third head of the monster. She would be the leader at Richard's death and if you didn't get back from the maze in time and that terrified her. She was not afraid of responsibility, nor making important decisions, but that represented visualizing a future where the three of you were not together and she preferred not to think about it.

"You know we do," she replied. "There hasn't been a single day when we doubted in your good judgment, but ..."

"It's different," Asenat said rubbing her chin. "The village doesn't feel like it used to. We are used to death, we can handle it, but the feeling of having it lurking over our heads is unbearable. The maze is not better. It is changing. I listen to it every night. The steel lobsters clattering through the halls. The giant woke up and will not go back to sleep”

"Cassidy," you called her, squeezing her hands. The girl sighed, thinking of the possibilities you guys had. Staying with your arms crossed was not an option, but neither was breaking the trust Richard had placed in all of you. Asenat watched you. The three of you shared the same fear, the same confusion and the same dread of losing the entire village. There were children who required the presence of someone capable to guide them, men and women waiting in fear to be infected with the glow and babies crying to feel the arms of their dead parents. You clenched her hands tighter. You needed to be covered for a few hours only and, in return, you would find the way out. You could do it, you trusted your instincts “Please...”

Cassidy sighed.

"We'll cover you until lunchtime, that's all."

"I only need that”

"Come back in one piece, will you?" She begged, looking at a small boy approaching. You leaned down, taking him in your arms letting out a groan as you picked him up. George was eight years old, he didn't weigh the same as five years ago. You kissed his cheek, returning him to the ground “The boy would go nuts if something happened to you”

"Are you going back to the maze?" George asked looking at you with his huge brown eyes. You nodded. Then you were hit by the little boy's suffocating embrace “the lobsters will hurt you!

"They are asleep now”

"They can wake up!"

"I doubt it little one. Don’t worry, I'll be fine. I'll be back at noon and we'll have a snack together, what ya think?”

“You promise?

“I promise”

"Okay, you can go," he said. You laughed, ruffling his hair

"Thanks, puppy. Stay with Asenat, okay? She can scold you while I'm gone”

"Ya’ heard it, boy," Asenat said, rubbing her knuckles at the top of his head. George complained, "You will stay with me the rest of the day and help me teach the little ones how to count to ten.

“That's not fair!”

"Life isn't fair, brat." Come on, maybe we can grab some chocolate from the kitchen later, huh?”

Asenat held out her hand and George took it enthusiastically as they walked together towards the largest cabin that you used as a classroom. George spun on his feet saying goodbye with a bright smile on his face. You blew him a kiss and Asenat turned to show you her middle finger. You smiled

"Take care of him, will you?" I highly doubt that Asenat will do it properly”

"I'm going to watch her. Now go before I regret it. And (Y/N)” She said, stopping you as you walked towards the main corridor of the maze. You turned around, waiting for his words “Don't die out there. The maze stinks enough to add the stench of a corpse” You nodded. It was a fair deal

“No prob”

You finished your run in your section faster than you expected. The meal would not be until three hours later so you decided to make a stop to rest. You sat on the floor against a wall. Hot sweat was running down your neck and the fucking headache was back. You closed your eyes, tired. It was terribly hot, and the stench of rotting meat numbed your nose.

You drank water, the little sip you had left, and put it back in your backpack. You were going to eat some of the apple slices you took with you, but the pain in the back of your head kept you from even chewing. You stood up wanting to continue your hike when the headache went down your neck and then numbed your spine. You leaned against the wall. It was covered in vines, moss, and fungus. You wiped your palms on your pants and started walking again.

The migraine erased your sight. For a second the world around you seemed to move in luminous spirals forcing you to close your eyes. The sound lightened and you swore you heard a static signal on your eardrums.

The floor spined over and over again. You dug your nails into the palms of your hands feeling the blood pour out from the sides, staining the stone. You heard the drops hiting the floor and suddenly everything stopped.

You were sweating. Your soaked shirt stuck to your body, your hair matted on your forehead and you opened your eyes. Pushing back the hair you noticed that this was not your section, that in some inexplicable way the maze had changed drastically and there was no way to return home.

Your heart beat madly. You fell to the ground on your knees, your head aching every second screaming in agony. You crawled down the corridor without understanding its course, but recognizing small fragments of leaves pointing a path to the north.

was that the way out? You, without being aware of the pain, could you have operated some kind of lever, changing the composition of the maze, leaving it unrecognizable? You weren't sure.

You kept crawling. The leaves spreading across the path, turning into a corridor covered in dust and dirt. You complained in pain and in the confusion, you managed to hear voices from the other side.

You buried your nails in the stone rising up. You pulled forward slowly approaching until you reached the exit (or the entrance?) of the maze. The wind ruffled your hair. Then your hands touched the green grass and the pain stopped.

You stayed alert. Your senses fading little by little from fatigue. Your head ached, your hands ached, your back ached. You heard the clear voice of a boy and, unaware of it, you got up as best as you could.

You got up with the help of the leaves on the wall. You narrowed your eyes focusing on the meadow stretching out in front of you. It was not the village, it was not the exit. The walls of the maze were surrounding the meadow and you could only think that the pain had caused you allusions.

Then the torture returned. You clenched your teeth. Your vision became blurry, however you could distinguish completely unknown figures in the mist. Your ears recognized voices, men's voices, and, unable to bear another second, you fainted.

[kayeissherlocked]

His Homecoming: Chapter Four

A/N: Sorry for another delay. It was my birthday and I was celebrating with my family and traveling. Then I got sick and some personal matters came up. Hope you guys enjoy! Again sorry for the delay!

Pairings: Bucky and Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: None that I can think of.

Reminder: Trying to have this story in chronological order according to MCU.

Laughter and running were heard through the village as you walked through. The sun kissed your skin, the children smiled at you as you pasted by. Your mind drifted to T’Challa as he was in Vienna for the Sokovia Accords. Him and his Father King T’Chaka were to to ensure that the Avengers signed the treaty after Lagos, Nigeria. Those poor souls that were lost, both sides were to blame but you tried to not think about it. Today was a beautiful day as you went and got the chicken feed to give them their grain for the afternoon. Approaching the coop it seemed like they were waiting for you as they began to cluck loudly.

“Alright hold on.” You laughed as you entered spreading the seed for them all around. “You guys are so greedy for this stuff. Soon you’ll get too fat and they’ll tell me to stop feeding you.” Looking our to the fields as a gentle wind blew across the grain you noticed that Shuri hadn’t called you to the lab. Odd, she always did around this time, maybe she forgot or didn’t since you looked up and saw Okoye. You smiled at her but she didn’t smile back, she was the exact opposite of that. The closer she got to you, you could see the tears swelling up in her eyes. Something was wrong, very wrong.

“Okoye what’s wrong?”

“Y/N you have to come with me right away. Your presence is required at the palace.” Okoye said. You immediately dropped the chicken feed and left with her. Your nerves and anxiety was through the roof as you flew quickly back to the palace. You didn’t ask any questions as you arrived at the palace. There was a sense of sadness as you walked to the Queen’s private studies. Okoye opened the door you saw the Queen and Shuri with tears in their eyes. The door shut behind you as Okoye entered the room.

“What do you know of this man?” Okoye pressed down on her kimono bracelet and the face of the man you never thought you’d see again. A cold chill ran down your spine the long you looked at his photo.

“Y/N?” Shuri questioned. You snapped back to reality turning to her.

“He is the man I was suppose to initiate the breeding program. He’s the most deadliest assassin in HYDRA’s history.”

“James Buchanan Barnes?” Questioned Okoye

“I don’t know if that’s his name I only know him as The Winter Soldier or Soldat. Why? What happened?” You replied. Okoye pushes down on her kimono beads again and a video showed a building exploded due to a bomb. The media listed the casualties and one of them was King T’Chaka. You turned to the Queen and Shuri with tears in your eyes.

“Your Majesty I am so sorry.”

“You said he was the deadliest assassin for this HYDRA.” Okoye asked

“Yes. He is.”

“Then why would he do this?” Shuri looked at you with tears falling down her face.

“I don’t know Shuri. I mean there are dignitaries from every nation there. But there is no motive. After Black Widow released all of HYDRA’s cryptic files, every agent went into hiding including the Winter Soldier. Why after two years would he come out of hiding and put the target on his back? Honestly, I don’t think he did this.”

“But he was identified.” Said Okoye

“I know but I don’t think he did this. He has been under HYDRA’s control for over 70 years, if it was me I would try to start my life over. Continue to hide is what I would want to do. Is T’Challa safe?”

“T’Challa is safe.” The Queen replied. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you released it.

“Just hope and pray to Bast that T’Challa brings him to Wakanda.” Queen Romanda said

“T’Challa would need to work fast. He’s impossible to catch.”

After the events of Vienna Shuri returned diligently to the lab and you returned to the outer village. It wasn’t until T’Challa returned home that you were called to the back palace. You were so anxious to get back to the lab but upon entering Shuri stopped you.

“You can’t enter now.”

“Why Shuri?” You questioned

“Y/N ummm listen there is something you must know. T’Challa brought someone or people back to Wakanda and well...”

“Well what?”

“You might know them.” You walked with you to the lab where right there on the table was The Winter Soldier himself only without his metal arm.

“Y/N?”

“Oh shit.” You whispered to yourself as Captain America quickly walked over to your side.

“What are you doing here?” He questioned. His eyes showed confusion as well.

“I could say the same for you. And why are you here with him?” You pointed to the broken beaten man that laid on the table not known that he was watching you.

“He’s my best friend, my childhood friend. I’ve been looking for him for two years because I thought he was dead but you didn’t answer my question what are you doing here?”

“I can’t answer that.” You turn to Shuri with a confused look on your face as well.

“Shuri you brought them here? You knew that this man was coming? You questioned

“No.” she replied “T’Challa didn’t say who he was actually bringing.”

“Look he’s not a killer, he did not kill to T’Challa’s father. He’s a good man.”

“A good man that has killed more people you know.”

“Look T’Challa said he would help him hopefully bring the Bucky that I knew back Bucky.” Said Steve

“Is that a nickname he had growing up?”

“I know you.” Whispered the soldier on the table. You turned realizing that he was pointing directly at you stopping you in your tracks. Frozen with fear but not in complete and total fear of him.

“I know you.” said Bucky

“You know her?” questioned Steve

“Yes.” said Bucky “I know her from HYDRA.” Steve his tracks as he turned to you.

“You? You’re a HYDRA agent!” Commotion started as Steve grabbed you pushing you to the closest wall. The fury he had in his eyes was scary. No one has ever seen Captain America get angry and to see his composure gone was scary. Before any other words were spoken T’Challa walked into the room.

“What is going on?” he said looking at all of us like a father would with his children after a fight.

“You brought a HYDRA agent into Wakanda?” questioned Steve

“I am not a HYDRA agent!” you yelled back at Steve.

“Then who are you?” questioned Steve “because he obviously knows you from the only place he knows and that’s HYDRA.” The pressure of his hands on your arms got tighter and tighter. You tried to not show any weakness as Shuri stepped in.

“This isn’t the best time to argue in front of him. He needs to get cleaned up and rest so if you want to argue please step outside.” She spoke harshly to both you and Steve. He grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the lab. Forcefully remove his hands off of you he pushed you against the wall again.

“Tell me who you are because I’m not gonna have you be in the same room is Bucky.”

“You don’t understand I’m here under asylum. HYDRA tried to kill me, my plane crash in Wakanda and I asked for asylum. There’s only one thing the HYDRA wants for me and that is to breed super soldiers. I was part of their breeding program it was the only way I could escape. T’Challa saved my life and I owe him so I seeked asylum that is why am here.” you yelled at him.

“That still doesn’t answer my question as to who you are is Y/N really your name?” questioned Steve

“Yes that is my name and my last name is Y/L/N- Romanoff because Natasha Romanoff is my sister that is why HYDRA wanted me.”

He took a step away from you, shock entered him as he realized that his partner or one of his partners the Black Widow had another family member out there

“I... I didn’t know. I don’t even think Natasha know so she has a living breathing sister. HYDRA wanted to create super soldiers and stead of wasting grown human beings, they wanted a super soldier born with the serum in their blood. Because I come from an assassin family they thought that assassin and a super soldier blood with the serum in them would do the trick. So here I am in the first one there was suppose to initiate the program. Me and James or Bucky as you call him. ” You let it all out.

“You’re really her sister?” Steve questioned you.

“Yes, he has the paperwork if you want to see it. All my records are in there my life. You could take a look for yourself Captain America.” The sarcasm dripped off your tongue as he pushed away from you and turned back into the lab. Giving yourself a couple of minutes to compose yourself you walked back in as well. T’Challa was over with Steve looking at your file and Shuri was attending to Bucky. Realizing your return she waved you over, you did not like where this was going.

“I need you to clean this wound here. I have to get a bandagefor his arm.” Shuri handed you the cloth and went to another part of the lab. You couldn’t make eye contact with him as you dabbed the cloth in peroxide and cleaned his wound around his nose. His exhale blew across your skin as you cleaned him gently. The feeling of it sent a chill down your spine as your eyes drifted to his lips. He had the most perfect lips your thoughts wondering of soft they would feel. Someone cleared their throat and your concentration broke. You looked at Bucky and the look in his eyes sent a feeling to your core that you’ve never felt before. Stepping away from him you noticed Shuri smirking, turning you hand the cloth back to her. You needed some fresh air.

TAGS:

@papi-chulo-bucky @gummiibunnii @iheartsebastianstan @sebastianstanrocks @imnotcoolmasterrr @rogue-barnes-16--main-account @marydragneell @theonelittleone @mizzezm @orowit @callmedaddys-blog @crazy-basement-collector @moli1497

[ikesenhell]

Summoning Circle XIX

This is a continuation of Summoning Circle and the finale. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTE: Tagging @katriniac and @forallyourikemensengokuneeds at their request. Also, there is smut / NSFW content.

She touched down on solid ground and staggered forward, barely catching herself on an outcrop of... rock? What did one even call the shimmering stuff Purgatory was made of? Barely had she righted herself before she tottered backward and dropped hard into the springs. 

Wait. Wait! Surfacing, she realized in one joyous moment that she’d done it. She’d found it. Restraining her laugh, she lapped to the side of the pool and squelched back onto dry land, staring up at the stars shimmering overhead. 

“Alright,” she whispered, shaking her arms dry. “Alright.”

What now? So she was out here, and now... what, exactly, did she think she was doing? All at once her spirits deflated. Okay. Well: step one, get out of Kenshin’s prison. Step two, locate Mitsunari and Mitsuhide. But how exactly did she do that second step? Clasping her hands open and shut, she realized with a start that the book had stayed behind. Of course it had. Nothing could be that easy. 

But... she exhaled, watching the plume of her breath disperse around her. She was out. She’d done it. Clasping her hand around the necklace resting on her chest, she considered her next moves. It didn’t feel possible to just summon them there with the necklace. Eyeing it warily, she even tried--but no. Nothing but a faint pulse in her palm like a heartbeat. 

Off in the distance, something howled. Conventional wisdom said that you stayed where you were when lost, but she was pretty sure conventional wisdom didn’t apply here. Lurching back onto her feet, she jogged in place to get out the drips and set off down the path. 

“I told you,” Yukimura huffed, “She’s not here anymore.”

“This is the last known location of the signal.” Nobunaga stared down his nose at the demon, his presence pulsing ruby through the swirling clouds around them. “And you mean to tell me you don’t have her?”

“Had her.” He frowned, crossing his arms tight. “We had her, and then she disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Mitsuhide asked. “A human does not simply disappear. They aren’t like us.”

“Maybe not, but that’s what happened. She figured out some kind of crazy reverse summoning technique and spirited herself out.”

Mitsunari frowned. “That’s impossible.”

“Apparently not.”

“No one has used that kind of a technique that I know of. It isn’t even written in our records. I would know.” Spreading his hands apart, an illusory book stretched between them, frantically flipping at his behest. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“I’d let you go and check, but you know how Kenshin and Shingen feel about--”

“Nobunaga.” Out of the mist came the man himself. Kenshin eyed each of them with barely-concealed suspicion. “I suppose you came for the humans?”

“Where is she?” Mitsuhide managed politeness. “Yukimura said she disappeared.”

“So she did. Made a reverse circle. Wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it.” But that apparently was the least of his worries. “I have another inside there. He’s working on a way to stay the fraying of our barriers and prevent creatures from breaking into the other realm. Were you aware of that? His name is Sasuke.”

“Sasuke?” Mitsunari repeated with a smile. “I know him, but I didn’t think he was here.”

“He is. Apparently the goal of their trip was to find you two.”

Without a word, Mitsuhide opened his map again, staring intently and waiting for that pulse of a signal. Kenshin continued. “I have other concerns, chiefly with that woman. If she managed to create magic purely on her own, with nothing but a single--poorly written--book to reverse engineer, then we are dealing with two highly intelligent humans. So I have a concern.”

Nobunaga hummed. “Do tell.”

“It is no secret that the monsters here are alluring to the curious.” And those mismatched eyes settled straight on Mitsuhide, holding him in his sights as he continued. “And deadly.”

“What are you saying?” Mitsunari cut in. “We don’t mean her any harm.”

“Don’t you?” Kenshin continued, unperturbed. “First you take such a personal interest in a fragile thing, then you involve her and risk her life by maintaining closeness, and now she is so invested that she willingly subjects herself to the horrors of Purgatory, even eschewing the safety of my residence. Is that not endangering her?”

“She makes decisions of her own free will.” Mitsuhide swirled the map under his fingers.

That icy gaze hardened. “You evade my point.”

“No. I don’t.” And he glanced up at last, his yellow eyes flashing. “We’ve tried to prevent this. I even took the extreme of abandoning her, against my better will and Mitsunari’s protests. You cannot ask me to do the same thing twice.”

Mitsunari’s purple eyes shone like a spotlight. “You mean it?”

“I do. I’m so, so sorry Mitsunari. You tried to tell me this was the wrong choice, and I didn’t listen. Please forgive me.”

Kenshin appraised them both sourly. “This will mean her death.”

Nobunaga spoke up. “Their circumstances are not yours, Kenshin. Let me see this other human you have there.”

The fog lifted, and she could see the pathway stretching out before her as she entered what looked like a town. Rather, it was meant to be one--all of the buildings were that same, shimmering purple, like a video game with none of the textures loaded. She tried to rest her hand against the wall of one of the low, thatched roof cottages and watched as her hand phased right through it. Huh. Curious, she took a deep breath and stepped through. 

Inside, the room was small and cozy. A translucent fireplace cast its light around the wavering room, an old wooden table set with dinner for a family that flickered in and out of memory. They wore old clothes--from the seventeen hundreds, maybe?--a mother hunched over a small baby in a makeshift highchair, a hard roll of bread and some stew set out before them. What was this, a memory? An installation? A town that was never finished? She wanted to reach out to them, but it was nothing more than smoke, so she walked outside once more. 

Out in the distance, something howled again. 

Now that sounded like the vampire. Shaking her head, she quickened the pace. Well, Ieyasu’s house hadn’t been too far away from the hot springs, but she didn’t remember passing through the town. There was a chance it was the wrong direction, but--

Something barreled into her. 

Alarmed, she flung her arm, smacking something coarse and hairy straight in a wet nose. Oh no. She didn’t need Mitsunari’s knowledge to draw a hard assumption about what it was snarling over top of her, luminous yellow eyes glaring through the purple mist. Around her, more werewolves howled. 

Frantic, she drew back her leg and kicked it hard in the jaw.

It didn’t expect that. The creature fell back with a dog-like whine, scrabbling back to its hind legs as she rushed for the town again. No good. Five slavering mouths panted and drooled behind her, their hot breath swirling around in pursuit. She was going to die. She was going to die, and Mitsunari and Mitsuhide would never know what became of her--

That stopped her feet. 

She danced to the side as one of them charged toward her, dashing into the house once more to get her bearings. At least they couldn’t see her properly through the walls. Think, think! She wracked her brain for a solution, acting more on instinct than real effort. Could she even draw on Purgatory’s pathways? Taking the marker from her pocket, she started on a sigil on the center of the kitchen table, marveling that she could draw on a memory. God--she had no idea what she was doing, but it was all she had. 

The first one burst through not long after. On a whim, she took the necklace Mitsuhide had given her into her palm and tried to flip the table--and it worked. Instead of phasing straight through, the rough grain of the wood connected with her hand and she flung it into the creature’s face, watching as her sigil flashed and enveloped it completely. 

“Fuck yeah!” She did a jig until another one broke through. Damnit. Necklace still in hand, she grabbed the table from the floor and wrenched it back with all her might, using it as a shield. That one fell through as well, but as soon as it did, the sigil faded from the surface. “Fuck!”

Outside, three more prowled. She could feel their huffs of breath through the walls. Slicking back her hair, she uncapped the marker and drew again. 

“It’s as simple as an algebra problem,” Sasuke explained. “Really.”

The three demons and vjelko in the room with him stared as if he were the cosmic abnormality, not them. He sighed politely and arranged his diagrams on the table. “So you are summoned by a specific set of symbols in a pre-arranged pattern, yes?”

“Correct.” Nobunaga agreed impatiently. “You’re saying that just another sigil should lock the holes in the barrier, but I’m here to advise you that we’ve never had much luck with that.”

Sasuke shrugged and shoved his glasses back up his nose. “I’m willing to try and publish my findings for replication.”

“Do what?” Kenshin asked, then irritably changed his tune. “Nevermind. Do you have any success yet?”

“I have some theories. I haven’t implemented them yet as it would require having access to one of these tears, and I cannot personally navigate Purgatory.” But he patted a hand over a machine sitting on the desk. “I am at least seventy-two percent confident that this should work, provided I have your assistance.”

“How so?”

“Well, clearly you don’t have much in the way of batteries here, nor can I just hook it up to an outlet. Solar power is right out, as is wind. However, I think a basic source of nuclear power should service it perfectly fine.” Sasuke motioned to some of his notes. “And as best as I can tell, the way the demons I’ve observed here have manipulated matter appears to be through a variant form of nuclear fission.”

“So you want one of us to power it?” Mitsunari asked, his eyes wide. “That’s brilliant!”

“Yes, though I suspect it would take a long-term investment on the part of whomever volunteered to power it.”

The men were all silent for a long moment. At last, Kenshin squinted at Sasuke. “If it doesn’t work, can we stop?”

“Of course.”

That was all he asked. Quietly, he announced, “Then I will do it.”

Out of nowhere, Nobunaga’s eyes dilated. Sniffing the air, he turned toward Mitsuhide and Mitsunari. “Does your woman frequently use sigil magic?”

“Not that we know of,” Mitsuhide answered.

“Though apparently,” Mitsunari added, motioning at the remains of the circle drawn behind them, “We could be surprised.”

The Vjelko chuckled. “You’re about to be. Someone is running rampant with it in the Ghostly Township, and I have a feeling it is who we are looking for. Sasuke, Kenshin--if you don’t want the barrier to be ripped open further from all the activity, I’d suggest you get a move on with that.”

A third one burst through the wall and the sigil exploded, which she hadn’t expected. The creature screamed bloody murder and fell back out, its fur a wild orange blaze. Around her, the house shivered. Was it becoming more solid? That didn’t bode well. God, if only she had Sasuke here to theorize. 

But she didn’t. She just had two more werewolves prowling around the house, a marker, and a suddenly very real table in her grasp. When had that happened?

“Alright, you fuzzy fucks,” she mumbled, scrawling another circle onto its wooden surface. “Try and get me.”

As if it heard her, a fourth one plowed through the wall, and this time it splintered rather than just allowing passage back and forth. She screamed and wrenched the table between them. Kra-kow! Icicles shot like bullets, snapping her table and putting the beast down in one.

“Damnit.” She thrust the useless half of the table down, still clutching the marker tight. Now she was good and trapped if she decided to remain in the house, and the only way out was now that hole. One more werewolf prowled out there somewhere, but it was the only chance she had. It wasn’t as if she could hide here. Screwing down her resolve, she sprinted out of the hole in the wall. 

Sure enough, barely had she cleared the wall before a massive, clawed hand swiped down and took a chunk out of her arm. She screamed and collapsed to her knees. Get up! Rolling to the side saved her life; the creature leaped bodily onto where she’d just been kneeling, saliva spraying from a hungering maw. She struggled for her marker, trying to draw something, but her arm wouldn’t respond.

Someone stepped in front of her. 

“You don’t touch her.” Mitsuhide swept out his arm, a swirling mass of energy pooling in his palm, and the light blinded her. The werewolf’s frantic squeal echoed out through Purgatory, and then--nothing. Her eyes adjusted again, the light gone, and two sets of arms wrapped around her. 

Mitsunari whispered, kissing her forehead, “Are you okay?” 

“Y-y-yes,” she managed, still too shocked for coherent thought. “Hi, Honey.”

His petal-soft breath hitched against her ear. “I still get to be Honey?”

“Yes, Honey, always.”

“I’m so sorry.” Mitsuhide kissed her bloody shoulder, prying away strips of her ruined sleeve. “I’m so, so, so sorry. I thought you would be safer. I thought you could just forget us. I’m so sorry, please forgive me--”

Words failed her. Instead she leaned heavily into his arms, resting her forehead against the curve of Mitsuhide’s neck, and he fell silent. It’s okay, she thought, but the sounds wouldn’t come out, so she just kissed the exposed edge of his collarbone instead. Something dripped hot onto her cheek and she wondered for a moment what that was, but--no, it was Mitsuhide, and he was crying against her. She squeezed his arm. 

“We love you, Honey,” Mitsunari soothed her, petting her hair. “We love you. You’re safe.”

Sasuke set up the machine on the edge of the township, angling it toward the house that steadily became more real. Kenshin tied up his sleeves.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Sasuke offered for the thousandth time. “If anyone else might want to do it--”

“I owe it to someone,” Kenshin snapped. “If not for me, she might have lived.”

He didn’t ask again. Instead he switched the machine on. The demon reached out his arm and forced a beam of light into it, and it whirred into life, projecting a thousand sigils across the far reaches of Purgatory like a beacon, forming a massive web of orange energy. 

They spent three days doting on her. 

Every time she woke, Mitsunari or Mitsuhide were there, if not both, changing her bandages and presenting her with something lovely to eat. Ieyasu visited frequently to check on her arm. Even he seemed less sour now. 

“What you did was sort of impressive,” he mumbled. “Kind of.”

After he left, Mitsunari wrapped a gentle hand around her throat, drawing a fine line with his thumbnail down her skin. “Whose are you?”

“I’m yours,” she murmured against his mouth. With a teasing smile, he bit down onto her lower lip. 

“Of course you are, Honey.”

Sasuke visited one day, drawing up a chair beside her bed. “So we successfully stayed the fraying of the barrier. It would be safe for us to go home now--but there is a catch.”

“What’s that?”

“Well.” He shoved his glasses back up his nose. “For any walking back and forth between the barriers, it is necessary to shut the machine on and off. While that is possible, it also is quite a bit of exertion onto Kenshin, and I think it would be best to avoid that.”

“So what you’re saying is that when we go, we’re basically gone.”

“Correct.”

It didn’t feel like much of a choice. She stared out the window before her, watching the stars of Purgatory swirl around, the rivers of dreams flowing in a silver stream. What a beautiful, terrifying, incredible place it was--and she was alright with that. “Then I’m staying.”

Sasuke didn’t fight her. He just smiled his typical muted smile. “I thought you might say that. Purgatory is a fascinating source of study and research. I’m going to stay myself, then.”

When she finally felt better, Mitsunari and Mitsuhide prepared a home made meal for her on the balcony. 

“Masamune had to make it.” Mitsunari admitted. “We don’t know how to cook on Earth, let alone here in Purgatory. We’ll have to make a number of allowances in regard to food preparation to make sure you have something to eat.”

“But that won’t be difficult.” Mitsuhide took a long draught of some silver-black liquid, eyeing her. “Did you enjoy it?”

She smiled up at them, wearing a beautiful black dress they’d gathered for them. “It was delicious.”

“Perfect. And now--”

“Now,” Mitsunari grinned, his eyes sharpening, “We have to punish you for scaring us.”

“Scaring you? You two scared me!” She scoffed, but Mitsuhide gently cupped his hand over her mouth. 

“Shhh,” he murmured. “Precious things like you don’t get to talk right now.”

Oh. Her pulse quickened as their hungry eyes bored through her. Without further ado, Mitsuhide swept her up from the chair and carried her back inside, setting her in Mitsunari’s lap on the bed. Together, their practiced hands peeled the dress from her body, dropping it in gentle swaths to the floor. 

“My love,” Mitsuhide murmured, kneeling between her legs. “There is nothing in the world I can do to make everything up to you.”

“I thought I was the one getting punished, not you?” She managed, her breath hitching.

“Well,” Mitsunari offered, his bright voice entirely at odds with the leash he produced in his hand. “You could fix that. I can punish the both of you.”

She fixed the collar back around Mitsuhide’s neck and gave him a gentle tug on the leash, watching his yellow eyes go hazy. Eagerly he dove between her legs, clutching at her thighs and running his tongue along the slit of her. 

“O-o-ohhhhh,” she gasped, writhing back against Mitsunari. The other demon laughed and cupped his hand around her throat. 

“What a good little plaything you are,” he crooned, soft and sweet in her ear. “I do enjoy using you. You’re my little toy.”

“Yes,” she gasped, her soul practically vibrating out of her body from Mitsuhide’s attentions to her sex. “Yes, yes, yes. I’m your toy.”

“Good girl. Good, good girl.”

Mitsunari liberated the leash from her hand and jerked on it. Mitsuhide growled in protest but obeyed anyway, rising between her legs to his partner, and from there, they kissed each other. She watched Mitsunari run his tongue over Mitsuhide’s dripping lower lip, absorbed in the taste of her, and it made her heart burn with desire. 

“Honey,” Mitsunari whispered to her, grinning like the devil, “Do you want more?”

“Yes, please.”

“Then you can undress me.”

Her hands shook as she undid his robe, and barely had the fabric left his shoulders before he pulled her up into his lap and lowered her onto his cock. She groaned, barely able to take all of him. Mitsunari tugged the leash again. “Get down there and get back to work.”

It was almost too much to take. Mitsuhide’s mouth sucked on the tiny bud of her, the whole of Mitsunari sliding in and out of her, glorious pressure hitting every sensitive part of her. She cried out and writhed, but he pinned her back against his chest with a hand to her throat, nipping at her ear. “Are you happy?”

“Oh my god,” she managed, her voice cracking with pleasure. “Oh my god, yes.”

“Thank me.”

“Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you--”

Mitsuhide played the tip of his tongue along one especially sensitive part of her and she screamed, finally releasing, her mind swirling into some heavenly place. Both of the men stilled until she stopped writhing. 

“Aw, look at her,” Mitsunari crooned, brushing her hair from her face. “I think more would break her.”

“Please,” she gasped, almost insane with need. “Please.”

Mitsuhide rose and unclasped the collar from his neck, setting it around hers with a final click. It felt so right that she didn’t resist. With practiced ease, the men transferred her onto him and she cried out as she sank down onto Mitsuhide, Mitsunari following again only a moment later. 

“I love you,” she babbled incoherently, “I love you. I love you. I love you both. Please don’t leave me.”

“My sweet, sweet Princess,” Mitsuhide whispered, tugging meaningfully on her collar. “Don’t imagine that we ever will.”

[thepaperpanda]

When surprise goes wrong || Curtis Everett x Reader one shot

Words: 880

Warnings: none

SUMMARY: You were packing a gift for Curtis. It was hard for you to smuggle it, so you panicked when Curtis found out you're hiding something.

Author: Rouge

A/N: this one shot has been written for @caplansteverogers writing challenge

Another Christmas in the train weren't happy at all. Curtis walked between people checking over everyone like everyday. It was his duty as a leader of rebellion.

You growled deeply trying to wrap a brand new shirt into the piece of old wrapping paper that you randomly found. You really wanted this gift to look magnificent, only because of it, whole process required extra effort to get such a gift here. It took you a long time to smuggled this thing from the upper class. You weren't really good at wrapping stuff, right now you were just sitting on the ground trying to finish your work, cursing yourself in your thoughts. Curtis talked with Tanya about the planned coup. It was when he picked a curtain up and took a step ahead spotting you on the floor.  "What are you doing, Y/N?" You jumped up quickly hiding gift behind your back. "Curtis! It's you! I mean... of course it's you! I mean... What are you doing here?" You asked smiling like an idiot still holding a piece of string between your lips, you planned to tie it around your packets when you will be done. He frowned. "Making a checkout. And you, Y/N? I thought everyone went listen to Wilford's wishes?" Curtis glanced over you and your place. "What are you hiding there, Y/N?" You blinked looking at him. "Wilford's wishes.... YES! Yes, of course, I was listening. Merry Christmas and all these nice things." You nodded slowly, then you realized you still had the string in your lips.  You pulled it out really quickly and hide in your pocket still smiling like a mad person.  The truth was that you were too focused on gift. You looked a bit scared at him. "Me?! Hiding something?? How could I... it's not like there are Christmas or something."  In this moment you slapped yourself in your thoughts, you acted like crazy. Curtis, being even more confused, took a step towards you. "I've asked you a question and I expect you to answer," he repeated slowly and firmly. "You behave strange since few days, Y/N. Are you scheming with our enemies?" You hide your gift into a pocket that was inside your coat.  You showed Curtis your empty hands.  "Look. Nothing. Empty. I have nothing." You shrugged, smiling at him sweetly. "Come on, Curtis, you know me. You good know that I am a good girl. I am not scheming with anyone." Curtis giggled distinctly rolling his eyes. "And it's here where problem lies. I KNOW YOU. And I know what you can do when nobody's watching. You play on two fronts, Y/N," he walked to you taking his hat off and looking you in the eye. "Tell me now when I still want to listen." You gasped. "Me?! And playing on two fronts?! Never! Who do you think I am." You smiled touched his nose gently. "I don't know if I ever told you but you have beautiful eyes. Now, Excuse me but I need to.." You muttered, looking around. "Talk with someone... important." You explained trying to walk away He blinked and grabbed your hand. "Wait. Not that quick, Y/N." He pulled you closer.  "Who is that important person? Wilford? Huh? What are you playing in?" You rolled your eyes and smiled.  "I go talk with my friend who is an important person to me. So please let me go, Curtis." You said frowning. "And I am not planning anything." You muttered biting your lips softly. His forehead was almost touching yours. "What did you put to your pocket, huh?" You sighed heavily and pulled out messy packed item.  "Here you go... Merry Christmas. I hope you gonna like it." You said with soft sadness in your voice. Curtis blinked taking the gift into his hands.  "Y/N? What? I mean... How.." He looked at the gift and then at you. "Smuggling, Curtis... I smuggled it from upper class. It wasn't easy but I really wanted to get a gift for you this year. Like you see I tried to wrap it for you but I didn't have enough time." You explained. He slowly unwrapped the gift.  "You didn't have to, Y/N.. You know it's danger to bergain with them. They could kill you for it," man whispered. "It's beautiful.. Thank you." You smiled.  "Hope you gonna like it and I know it's dangerous... but I know how to be careful. Merry Christmas, Curtis." You said and hugged him. He hugged you tight and kept you in his arms for a while. It was first time in the train when he has received something without fighting for it. He slipped hand under your chin and forced you to pull head up. You looked up at him with a soft smile.  "What is it Curtis?" You asked. He only smiled at you briefly, then he crushed his lips on yours. "Merry Christmas, Y/N." You giggled and nuzzled to him, purring quietly.  "Merry Christmas to you too, Curtis." He enjoyed your presence more than the gift, so since that moment his hand was wrapped around you as many times as it was possible. And even when the rebellion was about to happen, you were still by his side, ready to fight alongside him.

Gif: X

[bucky-bear-barnes]

Left At The Altar - Part 4? (Bucky x Reader, Steve x Reader)

Title: Left At The Altar (Part 4?)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader, Steve Rogers X Reader

Genre: Angst?

Summary: Steve and (Y/N) have good news to share. But Bucky doesn’t seem too pleased. 

MASTERLIST

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 5

(Y/N) paced around the hangar, fingers fiddling with her cellphone. Natasha called with news that although the entire team was on the way back from the mission, there were some injuries sustained. (Y/N) managed to attain permission from Pepper to leave the office early to go wait for the quinjet’s arrival.

As the quinjet touched down on the compound’s hangar, (Y/N) waited anxiously for its passengers to alight. The sound of heels clicking from behind her caused her to turn to see Jenny hurriedly making her way to where she was standing.

Settling herself next to (Y/N), Jenny whispered harshly, “God will you please just stop hovering around your ex-fiancé, my boyfriend. There’s a reason why you were left at the altar alright. And I’m telling you, its got to do with how suffocating you are.”

(Y/N) stared at Jenny, looking aghast at what she was hearing. She was nothing but polite and civil to this bitch that seduced her ex-fiancé and she decided to drag her?

Just as she was about to teach Jenny a lesson or two about the consequences of messing with the wrong person, the door to the quinjet opened and Sam was the first out.

“Hey pumpkin, we’re all back in one piece and I’m killing for some of your homemade double chocolate mint cupcakes,” Sam said as he made his way to give (Y/N) a hug.

Giving Sam a once over to make sure he was unscathed, (Y/N) replied, “I got worried the past week so I made dozens trying to help distract myself. I’ve filled the fridge, Sammy.”

“Thanks, sweetheart! Now, go look after your darlin’ ol’ captain.” he said, throwing her a wink.

(Y/N) frowned at that, her mind wandering to the worst possible scenario. Did Steve do something stupid again? Jump of another freaking vehicle? God forbid that he ran into another collapsing building.

Every ticking second made the girl more antsy than the last. The sound of boots on metal caused her to look up to see Steve hobbling out of the quinjet with Tony helping keep him upright. Right next to him was Bucky supported by Vision.

Just as he stepped out of the quinjet, Bucky’s eyes landed on (Y/N). Memories of when she used to wait for him post-mission resurfaced and he angled his body to walk towards (Y/N) - he wasn’t sure if it was muscle memory or if it was the sense of comfort he had with her.

“Shit! Steve! What happened?! We need to get you to the med bay right now.” (Y/N) yelled out, breaking Bucky from his reverie.

“Language, doll! And I’m back on time and in one piece for the date you promised me.” Steve teased.

“Goodness Steven Grant Rogers! You are going to be the death of me one day. And James Buchanan Barnes! You as well! Both of you off to the med bay!” (Y/N) chastised.

A small smile formed on Bucky’s face as he heard the worry in (Y/N)’s voice. The girl was probably too nice, she shouldn’t be worried about him at all but here she was fussing about them both.

He looked longingly at the girl who looped Steve’s arms around her, helping him walk. Jenny stalked over to Bucky and demanded his attention.

“Bucky! Your girlfriend is right over here, hello?” Jenny yelled, pulling Bucky’s attention back to her.

Bucky let out a sigh and turned to face her, “Hey Jen, follow me to the med bay?”

In the med bay, Bruce and Doctor Cho worked simultaneously on the two super soldiers. Steve had (Y/N) sat next to him, his hand intertwined with hers. On Bucky’s side was Jenny who fussed over Doctor Cho who was examining his wounds.

“Hey, you. Cho? Was it? Will you please stop touching Bucky everywhere?” Jenny demanded, causing Bucky to close his eyes in frustration.

“Hey Bruce, will you change with Doctor Cho, please? I think she’s about to implode.” Steve suggested, rolling his eyes at Jenny’s antics.

As the super soldiers were getting treated, FRIDAY’s voice came through the med bay.

“Ms (Y/N), your friends are contacting you once again regarding your high school reunion this coming weekend. They require an RSVP by tonight. Would you like for me to do so for you?”

(Y/N)’s grip on Steve’s hands loosened slightly making the captain frown.

“Thank you, FRIDAY. I will follow up accordingly.” (Y/N) replied the AI, her eyes brows knitting in frustration.

“Trying to avoid the questions about your failed wedding, (Y/N)?” Jenny questioned causing Bucky to grunt in disapproval.

The man dragged her out as he mumbled an apology to the red-faced (Y/N).

Showered and changed, Steve had (Y/N) sit in front of him between his legs as he helped the girl towel dry her hair. Deciding that it was a good time to breach the subject, Steve wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s waist and settled his chin on her shoulder.

“So, what this thing about a reunion I hear?” Steve murmured into her shoulder.

After a short moment of silence, (Y/N) let out a sigh and replied, “It exactly what you’ve heard. I have a reunion coming up and I’m not sure if it's a good idea to go.”

Turning her body slightly towards Steve, (Y/N) rested her legs on Steve’s thigh as the man tightened his grip on her waist.

“I know I shouldn’t be afraid of what others have got to say. And I know it isn’t my fault that my wedding didn’t happen. But, I just can’t help feeling as though I’m flawed and that why it happened to me. Being left at the altar was such a drama cliche that I didn’t think would ever happen to me. And some of my classmates were right out there waiting for my wedding to happen! This is such a mess.” (Y/N) ranted, her eyes filling with tears.

Pulling the girl closer to himself, he stroked the exposed skin of her waist, trying to offer a sense of comfort to her with his presence.

“Doll, if you’d like, we can go for this reunion together. It has been almost a year since the wedding and I’m sure most have forgotten. But I’ll be with you every step of the way. And if, only if you would like… I could… I could go with you as your… your…boyfriend?” Steve offered, his face and neck a bright red.

Fully turning to face the blushing captain now, (Y/N) has her eyebrows raised as she looked at Steve to try and find any ounce of joke on his face. Finding none, (Y/N) rested her hands on the sides of Steve’s face, her thumbs lightly brushing against his cheeks.

“Steve, if you would have me for who I am. The girl who worry too much sometimes. Who would fuss around to make sure everyone is well. Who binge watches Disney even though she’s all grown up. The girl that was left at the altar. I’ll be more than honored to have you.” came her reply, her smile contented and sweet.

“Oh thank God.” was all Steve said as he landed a kiss on her lips.

Sunday came by in a wink and (Y/N) was getting ready for the reunion she was heading to with Steve. The sundress she had on was a simple lilac color and as she was finishing up with her makeup, Steve came into her room looking as dashing as ever.

Helping him straighten his tie, (Y/N) said teasingly, “You look absolutely dashing Captain. Do I have to be worried about anyone stealing my boyfriend later?”
 “Not with you by my side doll. Everyone would be too busy marveling at you.” Steve replied giving her a quick peck on her lips.

The couple made their way to the common room to inform the group of their plans for the afternoon and was met with Tony and Natasha staring intently at the screen in front of them.

“Hey, guys, (Y/N) and I are heading out for her reunion so we will be back late,” Steve said, causing Natasha to snap her attention to the couple.

“Reunion?” came Bucky’s voice from behind them.

“Dol-(Y/N), you can’t possibly go for this reunion. They-they’ll want to ask you questions and… Just please…” Bucky pleaded.

“Look, I can go with you and we can… we can pretend that everything is alright and that the wedding is simply postponed!” Bucky offered, his voice loud and rushed. Somewhere deep inside Bucky was pleading the Gods to make her accept his offer so he could spend one more day as her to-be husband.

Steve resisted the urge to place himself between (Y/N) and Bucky, knowing that the girl was more than capable of protecting herself from this jackass he couldn’t even recognize as his best friend.

“No James. We are not going to pretend to anyone. If they have questions, I’ll answer them, with the truth. I was left behind on my wedding day and that's the fact. I’m not blaming you for it. I’ve stopped trying to find someone to blame months ago. It is what it is and we’ve all got to face it. You found your someone and I have too. Steve and I, We’ll protect each other and face whatever is to come together.” (Y/N) replied with determined eyes as she moves to grasp Steve’s hand in hers.

“You’ve got your chance at protecting her and you gave it up. Its now my duty to watch over her, Bucky.” Steve said, locking eyes with Bucky.  

Giving Bucky a final smile and Steve’s hand a little squeeze, (Y/N) turned and made her way out with the captain.

“I am not too familiar with karma myself but I’ve heard some stuff about it. It seems like karma’s here for your ass Barnes.” Natasha said, her tone unforgiving.

“You left her hanging to face the music with family and guests on her wedding day. She let you off good, ya know? I had a whole series of revenge plans made out for her but rejected them all and said she understood where you were coming from, I mean seriously? That girl’s crazy. So don’t get all soppy about her leaving you behind now.” Tony said with a roll of his eyes.

Bucky trudged back to his room and as he stepped in, he was greeted with Jenny rummaging a cardboard box. Glancing at its contents, he noticed the framed photo of (Y/N) and himself smiling widely at the camera, the backdrop a bright blue ocean - a picture taken from their trip to Hawaii two years back.

“I’m going to get rid of this box, Buck. That girl came by to drop it off even though I told her you wanted nothing of hers.” Jenny huffed.

“Leave.” Bucky’s voice was deep and cold.

“But Buck-“

“Leave and get out. Now.” the finality of Bucky’s voice sent a chill down Jenny’s spine as she hurriedly left the room.

Bucky sat on the corner of his bed, hands clutching the framed photo, as his first tears since the winter soldier fell. The tears kept dripping on the picture as he whispered out to himself.

“What have I done?”

Thank you all so much for the comments, likes, reblogs and messages about the previous chapter! I hope this was enjoyable and I would love to hear from you all. Throw me asks and we can discuss where the plot could go too! As usual, feedbacks are most welcomed! Comments, likes and reblogs are fuel to a writer’s writing ya’ll.

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[blatherkatt]

Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 25: Round 2 

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Abuse, violence, blood(writing only theres none visible in the art), (im pretty sure thats all of them but if i missed any pls tell me i just woke up and im impatient); Illustrated

Author’s Note: this one’s not going to be as bad as some future chapters, but like. PLEASE if you have any issues w/ violence/abuse be really careful in these next few chapters. up til now any abuse has been through a filter - karkat heard stuff going on in another room or various characters saw the aftermath or dave was describing an event that had happened. that’s not always going to be the case in this next section. please please be careful 

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Well, Dirk had spent plenty of time the past few months mentally going over what he’d done wrong last time he’d fought his father. It was nice of the universe to drop round two into his lap, really. Gave him the chance to test out his theories.

Swallowing down the urge to panic, he focused his thoughts on the situation at hand, unconsciously shifting his weight into a fighting stance.

Check the odds. This’d be a two on one fight; Dave was still inside the house and unarmed, whereas the old man had his sword, and the other guy had an aluminum baseball bat (battered-looking, scratched and a bit dented on one side; either it saw regular use or it had been his weapon of choice for years, either way the guy probably knew how to use the thing). He’d fought the old man before, knew how fucking dangerous he could be; the other guy was an unknown, but compared to Derek, he looked a hell of a lot more nervous about this situation, and the way he balanced his weight was less ‘trained warrior’ and more ‘experienced street brawler’. Not as much of a threat, then, at least.

They were standing outside the backdoor to the house, which was closed, and as far as Dirk was aware, locked; that’d make things at least marginally harder for them to get at Dave, but. The fact that they were in between Dirk and the house was… Not good. He’d need to keep them both preoccupied, somehow, or else find a way to get past them both and into the house. There was the river on one side, and he was a pretty damn good swimmer, but the water was too low to swim in this time of year and would only slow him down if he tried to get back around to the front door that way. To the other side was forest, and he could traverse it quick, but he’d be doing so with his father hard on his heels. Too risky. The best route was to go right through the both of them to the back door, see if it was unlocked after all, or to try and fight long enough that the old man’d be unable to follow him fast enough as he looped around the front.

If he could just get inside, maybe retreat to the top floor or the observatory, somewhere where they’d have the high ground, he and Dave might be able to hold things down until help arrived. Might even be able to beat these two, have ‘em all trussed up nicely for the police. Or maybe Dirk’d get himself killed, trying this crazy, reckless plan. Fuck, it was the best chance he had, it’d have to do. It was either that, or find a way to get Dave outside, grab him, and hightail it into the woods. Derek hadn’t lived here in over a decade, Dirk was sure he’d know the forest better and be able to avoid him until Mom got home.

And that should be enough, right? There was no way it was a coincidence that he made his move while she happened to be gone. He’d gotten her out of the house intentionally, for sure, which meant he considered her enough of a threat that her presence would likely chase him off or at least give him a harder time.

Hell, maybe they wouldn’t even bother with hiding, they might just be able to fucking run.

All of these options required Dirk to first get to Dave, though, and there was really no way of doing that without picking a fight with dear old dad.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen up and sound casual as he spoke. “Took you long enough to turn up,” he said, staring his father down. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about us.”

The old man smoothly hefted up his blade onto his shoulder, his posture casual as hell, as if his own mind wasn’t surely calculating just as quickly as Dirk’s. “Wouldn’t miss this family reunion for the world, kiddo,” he said.

“Jesus, he looks just like you used to,” the other guy said with a nervous grin, flicking his eyes at the old man. “Little thinner, but aside from that, God damn.”

“Sure does,” Derek drawled, taking a step to the left. Dirk, in turn, slid carefully to the right, keeping his distance. He knew this sparring ground like the back of his hand, that’d be another advantage. Granted, it was just flat ground with a bunch of circular wooden posts, but it was something. “It’s just a shame he got his mom’s bleeding heart. He’d’ve been a helluva asset if I’d gotten to him,” the old man continued on, “but, just my luck, I got his useless fuckin’ brother instead.”

The ploy nearly worked. Dirk jerked, ready to lunge forward, before restraining himself and continuing to mentally map out the various routes he could use to get to the house. Swallow down the anger; the old man had used that same trick before, praising Dirk and insulting Dave in the same breath, to goad Dirk into making hasty, stupid mistakes last time. He wasn’t going to fall for it again. Had to keep his cool.

“If you’d taken me, I’d have found a way to kill you myself,” Dirk said. He wasn’t sure he believed it — much as he was loathe to admit it now, there had been a time, long before Dave was taken, when he’d looked up to the man — but that didn’t matter. Keep him talking, keep stalling for time, maybe find a jab that could get the old man to be the one making stupid mistakes. “It’s a shame you didn’t take me, really. I could have spared the world a lot of misery.”

“Hm,” Derek said, a short, sarcastic almost-laugh. “Well, it’s been great talking, kid, but we’re on a tight schedule, here. So I’d advise you either stay out of our way,” he unshouldered the blade, pointing its tip low to the ground, “Or stop beating around the bush and get to the part where you try and prove you’re not all talk.”

Somewhere behind him, what was likely that same crow from earlier took off into the air, its call acting like the starting gunshot at a horse race. Dirk saw his father brace to flashstep forward in the same moment he did, and then there was no room in his mind for the crow, the forest, the river, nothing but the constant calculation of the absolute necessities of this fight. Dust kicked up everywhere as they both sped forward. The impact of the first sword-on-sword contact let off a loud clang, the sound itself seeming to resonate painfully through Dirk’s very bones — Jesus Christ, he was pretty sure the old man hadn’t been swinging nearly this hard last time, had he really just been toying with Dirk back in Houston? — but he kept his grip on his weapon, and took a quick swipe at the bastard’s throat, only to have it easily deflected. He darted backward momentarily, trying to circle around to get at his father’s back, but he’d scarcely taken two steps before the old man was on him again.

The thought crossed through his mind that, for all the old man liked to make himself out to be some ferocious beast of a man, Rose wouldn’t even have let Dirk take one step before being in his face again. Old man must be getting slow with at his ripe old age of thirty-seven if a sixteen year old girl could outpace him, hah.

This was nothing like fighting Rose, though. If fighting Rose was a relentless choreography of balance and speed, fighting the old man was more like mixing the raw ferocity of a pissed-off Kodiak bear with the careful strategy of a chess match and the precision of a brain surgeon, all poured into every half-second of action. There was no room for error, not when every few seconds he could feel the wind off of a barely-dodged strike that would’ve ended the battle in a heartbeat, not when every strike seemed powerful enough to split him in two from head to toe. The man was a goddamned machine.

But Dirk was holding his ground. He could do this. He had a — right, the plan, fuck, he’d been so focused on just surviving, he nearly forgot — he refocused his efforts from fixating so much on the old man himself, no matter how badly he wanted to sink his blade in between the bastard’s shoulder blades, and onto carefully edging closer to the house. It was slow, painful going, every inch closer costing a dozen blocked strikes that promised to make his arms burn later, but — there, he was closer to the house than the old man, now, he could —

He wasn’t expecting the blur of silver in his peripheral vision, opposite where his father stood, and wasn’t able to react in time as the mystery guy struck. Time seemed almost suspended for a moment as Dirk’s thoughts raced, as the bat arced downward, as he tried in vain to react before the blow landed. When the fuck did that guy get over there, he’d been by the house the whole time, hadn’t he, or had he been circling around this whole time while Dirk was distracted?

The bat collided heavily with Dirk’s leg a little below the knee, and he heard more than felt something crack. Dirk swung wildly, just missing as the other man ducked and scrambled backwards, Dirk’s balance was off — fuck, this was bad, he knew adrenaline was all that was keeping him from being on the ground in pain, he wasn’t going to have long to use his leg, he needed to get inside now —

This time, it was his father who surprised him, fist and sword handle colliding hard enough with Dirk’s jaw in a fierce uppercut that his teeth clicked painfully together and he was tipped backwards, directly into one of the wooden posts.

Another sharp pain, on the back of his head, this one lasting only for the briefest moment before everything went out of focus. He was vaguely aware of his body hitting the ground, probably on his side, but it felt like all his senses were being filtered through a filmy camera lens — touch seemed distant, vision blurry, sound was muffled except for a constant, high-pitched ringing; he couldn’t think, couldn’t piece together any understanding of what was happening but the dull pulsing pain now starting to swim through his head and the equally distant roaring of his pulse in his throat.

Something was going on, the old man hadn’t moved. Someone new entered his vision, standing close, facing towards the old man, all Dirk could see were the fuzzy shape and color of a pair of jeans and a red-and-white shoe — Dave…?

Couldn’t move, couldn’t think…

Darkness took him.

“Don’t hurt him,” Dave wheezed. Fuck, he’d been too late, he’d heard the swords clanging and had checked outside, seen fighting, rushed to get his shoes on (because, being real? he knew he wasn’t gonna be coming back. He’d known this would happen eventually — not now, though, fuck, they hadn’t even tried to contact him about this shit, they’d just turned up, what the fuck, Bro), and bolted out the door just in time to watch Dirk go down to a brutal uppercut, smacking his head against a post hard enough for Dave to hear it from a fair distance away. He’d flashstepped in between where Dirk had fallen on his side and where Bro and Ben stood, hoping to maybe convince them to stop there — fuck, there was blood on the post, fuck fuck fuck — “I’m here, I’ll, let’s just go, just, don’t hurt him anymore, please,” Dave begged.

“You’re in no position to be making any kind of fuckin’ requests,” Bro said, his voice low. Fuck, he was really pissed. “He wouldn’t be hurt at all, if you hadn’t been a dumb shit back in June.” Dave flinched. “The hell did you even do? Get caught sneaking out? Or were you fuckin’ babbling to yourself again with someone in earshot? And where the hell is your goddamn sword?”

Dave paused.

He. He didn’t know that Dave had told Dirk about that before it happened, then. He’d assumed that Dave had just fucked up.

Jesus Christ, that was so fucking lucky, holy shit.

“I think the police still have it,” Dave said, ignoring Bro’s disgusted scoff. He probably didn’t know that Dave had gotten arrested trying to help Karkat escape, then, so Karkat probably was actually safe where he was, thank fuck, thank fuck — he could work with this. Bro didn’t let failure off lightly, but he was a hell of a lot less cruel about a fuckup than direct disobedience. And if Dave just went with them now, then that’d be the end of it, it’d probably never come up again, Karkat’d be safe, Dirk — Dirk was groaning softly, so not dead, thank fuck — Dirk’d be okay soon as they could get him to a doctor, everything’d be fine. “Yeah, uh, I fucked that up hard, but. Listen, let’s just go, okay? Get this fuckin’ tour on the road, the groupies are gettin’ restless and I think the manager’s bout to kick us out the —“

“Shut the fuck up,” Derek said, and Dave’s jaw pulled shut involuntarily. “I’m thinkin’, gimme a minute.”

Ben shifted his foot. “Shit, we mighta overdid it,” he said, looking at Dirk. “I definitely hit him harder than I meant to, uh.”

“He’ll be fine. He’s tough,” Bro said. “S’ inconvenient as hell, though. He saw your face, might be a problem…”

“Mm, yeah, but not very close, and with a hit to the head like that, he’s probably not gonna be able to tell the cops much,” said Ben. “And anyway, he won’t remember me to identify me to the cops, I’m sure. He was only a toddler last time he saw me. Wouldn’t know my face is a significant one at all.”

“Still not a risk I wanna take,” Bro drawled. Dave gulped.

“He — it’ll be fine, just don’t hurt him anymore,” he babbled. Bro’s face snapped toward Dave, and every muscle in Dave’s body went rigid.

“Fuck it,” Bro said, with the faintest of sighs. “Take ‘em both.”

“Wh- Derek, come on,” Ben said. Dave felt his blood run cold. Shit, no, that wasn’t what he’d wanted at all. “We don’t have anything set up to deal with Dirk, we’d have to keep him hidden unless he agrees to join us, and it’s gonna be a pain in the ass to explain him to the rest of the guys.”

“He’s not getting anywhere on that leg without help,” said Bro. Dave glanced backwards; both of Dirk’s legs seemed fine to him…? “Keep ‘im down in the cellar with Dave. That way, he can’t give the police your face, the other boys don’t gotta know he’s there until we work out what to tell ‘em, and as a nice bonus, we have a bit of extra incentive to make sure Dave puts some goddamn effort into doing what he’s fucking told.”

“I can do that without taking Dirk hostage!” Dave yelled, and instantly regretted it as Bro’s shadow fell across him. Dave shuffled backwards, his heels bumping against Dirk’s chest.

“If that were the case, we wouldn’t fuckin’ be here,” said Bro. “But you can’t even follow simple instructions without fuckin’ it up, so we had to come up in person and make sure things went right.”

“You —” Dave swallowed hard, “you didn’t give me any instructions this time, I haven’t heard from you in months!”

“Yeah, that’s why this plan’s fuckin’ working. Or it was, but then you somehow still found a way to fuck it up. So now, we’re gettin’ some extra fuckin’ motivation for ya: Behave, and I don’t fuck Dirk up worse. Got it?” Dave nodded. “Now, go help Ben get your damn brother into the car before I change my fuckin’ mind about lettin’ him live.” Bro stalked off toward the river — low enough to wade through, it looked like — and disappeared under the trees.

Ben sighed. “C’mon, Dave,” he said, “You know how it is when he gets like this. Sooner we get your brother to where we’re going, the sooner he can get some proper rest. Guy’s probably got a concussion.”

“I’m sorry,” Dave mumbled, as Ben leaned down to grab Dirk’s shoulders. He gestured for Dave to grab Dirk’s feet. Dave wasn’t even sure anymore who he was saying sorry to, just…shit.

After wading through the river and navigating the trees a pretty good long ways, they loaded Dirk into the back of a beat-up pickup truck with a fuckton of dents and a blue paint job so old and chipped, there looked to be more exposed metal than paint left on the thing. Dave climbed into the back, too, Ben shooting him one more sympathetic look before closing the thing up and presumably climbing into the front. Dave pulled Dirk’s head into his lap immediately. There was definitely blood on the back of Dirk’s head, he didn’t wanna wait to bandage that shit, but they weren’t exactly on steady ground right now, so it’d have to wait until they hit the actual road and Dave could shift Dirk over onto his legs long enough to tear off some fabric from his shirt. Tthe forest floor was so bumpy, it took most of Dave’s concentration to just keep Dirk’s head steady. The guy probably had a concussion, and Dave was kind of freaking out about that, and he didn’t know much about head injuries but was pretty sure that jostling around on the unprotected floor of a truck’s trunk was probably not the best thing for Dirk right now.

Soon as the truck pulled onto more level ground, Dave tried to level his legs out more — fucking uncomfortable as hell when he was trying to stay out of view of the windows at the same time (no one had told him to not get seen, but he really didn’t wanna push his luck) — so he could rearrange positions so that he could try to tear his shirt. Took a ridiculous amount of effort and tearing with his teeth, but eventually he managed to rip off a strip of fabric just long enough to wrap around Dirk’s head twice and get tied into a small knot. It wasn’t much, but it’d have to do.

Time passed like that, Dave just carefully trying to support his brother’s head, praying for some sort of fuckin’ miracle to fix this god-awful situation as the world sped by outside.

God, it felt like Bro was trying to hit every fuckin’ bump on the road with a vengeance. Or maybe Dave was just a little hyper-aware right now. Or maybe being stuck in the covered bed of the truck instead of safely tucked into an actual seat made a big difference.

Dave shifted Dirk’s head a little where it lay on Dave’s stomach. Still unconscious as fuck.

Dirk shouldn’t even be here, none of this should be happening, they hadn’t even tried to tell Dave they were coming — truth be told, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have tried to warn someone sooner this time if he had known, and he felt kind of guilty for that, whatever — but. They were here for him, not Dirk.

There was no point in thinking all this, but his thoughts were racing like a shih tzu on cocaine. He kept replaying what had gone down over and over as he tried to hold his brother’s head steady.

God, he was so fucking lucky that the trolls weren’t here, Bro woulda killed Karkat for sure — but Dirk was hurt, that sucked, and he was caught up in this bullshit now, which sucked worse, and…everything was going to hell, holy shit.

They’d been driving for a good while, probably at least a couple hours. Dirk had almost woken up a couple times, but it’d been a bleary, obviously-not-all-the-way-conscious sort of waking up in which he’d mumble some question and be out cold again before Dave could answer. He was actually really worried that Dirk probably needed, like, a hospital visit.

Dirk probably had his phone with him, he could call the police —

Fuck that. Fuck that idea and set whatever part of Dave’s mind that came up with it on fire, holy shit, no, that would be a great way to get him and his brother both killed. There were a lotta rules Dave’d break when he was sure that Bro wasn’t paying attention, sure, but he’d taken the ‘do not contact people without permission ever’ one to heart, the fucking scars on his cheek and his upper back were enough of a fucking reminder of that. There’s no way Bro wouldn’t just know, somehow, even if Dave did find a way to tell the cops where he was, and he’d react so fucking bad, and just, no. No, absolutely not, no, fuck no. He wasn’t gonna risk popping up into the window to wave at other cars, either, because fuck, what if Bro or Ben looked back and saw him? Nevermind what they’d do to him, Dirk was fucking helpless right now! And Bro’d only promised that Dirk wouldn’t get hurt anymore if Dave behaved, so better to not push things at all for now.

“Please be okay,” he caught himself whispering. He was pretty sure the bleeding had long since stopped — it wasn’t like a massive wound, or anything, just a pretty nasty looking bump and a bit of torn skin — but Dave wasn’t sure how long people were generally unconscious from a hit to the head like the one he’d taken. There was a bruise forming under Dirk’s chin, too, Christ.

At least he wouldnt be alone this time.

…Yeah. He. He really did feel bad that Dirk was caught up in all this, but…fuck, going back to the way things were supposed to be was gonna already feel like plunging into ice water directly after spending ages under Houston’s own Deep Frier of a sun, but at least he’d have one bit of the old life to hang on to.

Fuck, Dirk had a life outside this shit, though, didn’t he? He had his own friends, and college, and whatever weird shit he did down in the basement. This was gonna rip him away from all of that, and Dave was sitting here, feelin’ fucking glad about it? God.

The car pulled to a stop.

Dave heard the front doors swing open, and a moment later, Ben pulled open the back. Dave took a quick look around as he helped Ben get Dirk’s still-out-cold dead weight out of the trunk. They were in a forest, still, but this one looked…older than the one near Mom’s house, the trees taller and the branches woven together so thickly that barely any light pushed through, with the exception of the dirt road leading up to the house, and the house itself. It was a one-story affair, even more beat up than the truck, and the floorboards creaked like crazy as they maneuvered Dirk down into the cellar (there was a dirty mattress lying on the floor, hidden behind some shelving — probably Dave’s new bedroom for as long as they were here. Not even raised off the ground this time, damn, he was in too much trouble to even get some fuckin’ cinderblocks).

“Do you know if there’s a first aid kit here?” was the first thing Dave asked, soon as Dirk was settled on the mattress.

Ben rubbed his head. “Uh, in the bathroom, I think,” he said. “Just across the hall from here.”

“Thanks,” Dave mumbled, and rushed past. He barely got a step out of the cellar before a sword thudded down point-first into the floor in between his feet, quivering with force, a note pinned under its tip.

“Outside. Now. You want the kit? Earn it.”

There was a crude drawing of a first aid kit underneath the words.

Fuck.

Dirk woke slowly to a pounding headache, dizziness, a desperately aching leg, and a dark, completely unfamiliar room. His head still felt fuzzy, but as he clawed his way into consciousness, he managed to piece together enough words to note that he had no idea where he was.

Sitting up took several tries, and he ultimately had to lean against the wall to do so. God, he was tired. God, everything hurt. He felt distantly that he should probably be scared, but that sounded like it’d take so much energy, and he just…

There was the sound of a door creaking open, and someone trying and failing to be quiet on a few very squeaky steps. A fuzzy shape rounded the shelves, resolving itself into Dave, a white box in hand.

“Oh, holy shit you’re awake, thank fuck,” Dave said, dropping down next to Dirk on the mattress.

“Where…?” Dirk started to ask, unable to grasp the rest of the words at first.

“I don’t know,” Dave said. “Think it’s Bro’s new base of operations, some old house out in some shitty forest. I didn’t keep track of where we were going at all. Can you lean forward a little?”

Dirk blinked, then obliged. Dave’s hands, trembling though they were, reached for the knot on a piece of fabric Dirk hadn’t noticed around his head. Dave snapped open the white box, seemed to think for a moment, and then grabbed a small piece of gauze, pressing it to the back of Dirk’s head before rewrapping the other cloth.

“Fuck it,” Dave muttered, “I got no way to restock if this kit runs low, better to save what we got. The fuckin’ shirt bandage’ll do, the bleeding’s mostly done anyway. Uh, okay, Ben said your leg’s broke, so I need a splint, uh…” Dave looked around, and as he did, Dirk noticed a clean tear on the shoulder of Dave’s shirt. It took him another couple seconds to also notice that the rip was surrounded by still-wet blood. The realization was like a shot of pure caffeine. Shit, Dave was hurt, too, shit —

Dave got up, searching around the room (a cellar, Dirk finally realized), and was out of sight when Dirk heard him make a triumphant noise. He returned with a long chunk of wood.

“Dave,” Dirk said, but went ignored. Dave flopped down on the mattress again, and Dirk could see exhaustion in his movements, Jesus, what had happened while he was out?

“You know which leg’s broken?” Dave asked.

“Right,” Dirk said, “Just under the knee. Dave, you’re bleeding.”

“It’s not a bad cut,” Dave said, laying the stick he’d found beside Dirk’s leg. A couple more strips of gauze were used to tie the stick to Dirk’s calf. “Okay, that should do it, I think? Uh, you should probably try to stay awake for a while, ‘least that’s what Ben said, uh.”

Dirk reached for the kit and tugged Dave closer, ignoring his brother’s surprised yelp.

“Your turn,” Dirk muttered, tugging at Dave’s shirt.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Dave said. “Uh, fuck, lemme…” He shifted, pulled his arm out of his sleeve to free up his shoulder, and Dirk sucked in a harsh breath. There were a lot of newly forming bruises all along Dave’s side and back. “Don’t…worry about those,” Dave said, “Or the cut, really, it’s nothing, Bro just…he’s fucking pissed at me for being a giant fuckup, what else is new, so he made me fight ‘im for the first aid kit. Turns out: not practicing for five months can make you pretty fuckin’ shitty. Who knew. Uh, on a sort of related note but not really, though, I gotta talk to you about…”

Dave kept rambling. Dirk focused on tending to the wound. The cut wasn’t very deep, but Dirk took great care bandaging it anyway.

(It was nothing compared to the other scars under Dave’s shirt, especially the fucking mess of scar tissue between his shoulder blades, holy shit, holy shit —)

As Dave pulled his shirt on, Dirk managed to piece more of the puzzle together.

“I’m a hostage,” he said. “Fuck.”

“Uh, I mean, yeah, unfortunately,” Dave said. “Dude, did you hear me about the June shit, though? Like, that’s actually important.”

Dirk shook his head. “Shit, no, sorry,” he said. “Head’s still cloudy. Fuck.”

“Okay, basically, uh. It probably won’t come up, but just in case, if they mention the shit that went down back in June, just…the story I went with is that you caught me sneaking out, and I accidentally blurted out that it was my last night, and you all forced the rest out of me,” Dave said. Dirk tilted his head slightly. “Like, they don’t know that I told you on purpose,” Dave went on, checking over his shoulder and lowering his voice. “And I wanna keep it that way, alright? Bro’s a lot fuckin’ nastier when I straight up disobey him, so I try not to get caught doin’ it too much, and right now, by some fuckin’ miracle, he doesn’t know about this instance of it.” He grinned nervously. “I mean, he’s still pissed, but it’s a manageable sorta pissed, you get me?”

“I…” Dirk’s head was spinning again. Fuck. Overload. He was so tired. “Alright,” he said, “I’ll…yeah. I got it.”

[imaginingcriminalminds]

Spencer Reads (Dr. Spencer Reid x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Title: Spencer Reads Author: grufflepuff-writes-stuff Rating: G Prompt/Summary: This is based on an imagine from this very blog: “Imagine spending a whole Sunday afternoon reading with Reid.” The two of you are reading together, but the plan shifts a bit when Reid’s incredible reading speed starts to bother you. Main Character(s): Spencer Reid Trigger Warning: None. Maybe a little bit of self-consciousness/angst if you’ve ever worried about your own intelligence, but it doesn’t last long. Word Count: 2641 Beta/Editor: None Multishot: No. Author’s Notes: There are other writing projects I should be working on, but this little plot bunny has been taking up all the space in my head. I hope you like it. Any spoilers for either S11 or S12?: No. In fact, no spoilers for anything.

Spencer Reads

There were a lot of benefits to dating Dr. Spencer Reid. He was beautiful, of course. It was hard to keep your hands off of him, and when you inevitably ran your fingers through his hair or stroked his cheek, the way his eyes would flutter closed and the little sigh he always made would drive you to distraction. Even when he came home after solving yet another case in some state far from home, with victims and ghosts darkening the skin beneath  his eyes and leaving him with that awful, haunted expression that you hated, he was beautiful.

(Read More goes here, if you don’t mind?)

When you got to spend time alone with him, he was so funny, but also so tender. When you’d first gotten together, a part of you had thought that he was being so kind to you in hopes of making up for all the times he got called in to work or something, but you were well past that honeymoon period where you both were trying to be the best you could be, and he still hadn’t let up. You had never been with anyone half as considerate as Spencer Reid. Even now, after months and months together, you still sometimes caught him looking at you with this…awestruck kind of expression. Sometimes—often on his first night back after a long case, but not always—you woke up in the middle of the night because you felt him caressing  you. Even when he thought you were fast asleep, he touched you so gently, so carefully. Sometimes his fingertips trembled against your skin. No one had ever touched you the way he touched you, looked at you the way he looked at you.

And he was brilliant. Of course. Conversations with him were always exciting—it was like he knew these little facts about everything, and when he shared them with you it was almost like he was sharing a part of himself. Most of the time you didn’t even feel self-conscious or silly about not knowing as much as he did, because no one knew as much as he did. But he even used his intelligence for kindness. When you got into yet another of your heated conversations about a story you’d seen on the news or politics or something silly like whether your cat could understand you when you spoke to her, he never tried to shut you down by correcting every single little thing you said. You had known plenty of people who did just that—insisted that, because someone had made a mistake in an argument, they were inherently wrong and somehow unworthy of their time. Not Spencer. If anything, he came alive during those conversations, laughing and verbally sparring with you and seeming to take some kind of delight in you when you came up with something ridiculous.

Now, you were educated. You’d gone to school and gotten a degree and you liked to think that you were pretty well-informed about the world around you. It just so happened that a quirk of Spencer’s brain chemistry made it possible for him to retain and access a hell of a lot more information than the average person. He never lorded it above you—above anybody. It was just one thing about him, like the freckles on his back or the way one of his ears was ever-so-slightly lower than the other.

Which was why it was ridiculous, right now, that he was making you feel so frustrated.

It was one of those glorious rare Sundays where his phone had not jerked the two of you awake before the sun had even risen. You had dragged yourself out of bed while he was still snoring, hoping to surprise him with breakfast. You probably shouldn’t have been surprised, not twenty minutes later, when you’d heard him come padding into the kitchen. You’d eaten together, and showered together and, without much discussion, settled into his couch together with a couple of books.

Even when the man wasn’t actively speed-reading, he was a fast reader. Now, you knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose. Hell, as far as you knew, he wasn’t even aware of your presence beside him anymore. (That wasn’t what bothered you; you yourself were pretty good at completely immersing yourself in a book and losing awareness of the world outside.) But in the time it was taking you to finish a page in the book you were reading, Spencer was getting through what sounded like an entire chapter in his own. You knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t intentionally flipping the pages with…such vigor—it was probably a much safer bet to assume that he was just deeply, deeply involved in whatever he was reading.

Flip.

Flip.

Flip.

Suppressing a sigh, you closed your book as quietly as you could manage (this wasn't his fault—you didn’t want to disturb him) and carefully got to your feet. Spencer almost always insisted on doing the dishes after you’d done the cooking, but this morning the two of you had left the whole mess sitting out in your…ah…haste to get into the shower together. You’d take care of the dishes now, and when you were finished, maybe you’d be somewhat less attuned to the sound of pages turning.

You slid the book back onto the shelf and made it into the kitchen without attracting his attention. Good. He didn’t get enough slow peaceful days like today, especially lately.

You set about clearing up the dishes from breakfast. You were generally a pretty tidy cook, so it wasn’t too much work. The task was simple, but required just enough of your attention to keep your mind from drifting to other things. This time, you didn’t hear his footsteps. In fact, you didn’t even notice that he was in the room until he had wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and buried his face in your shoulder.

“That’s my job,” he murmured against your skin. He slipped his hands under your waistband and let them rest on your hips. For someone who wasn’t crazy about being touched, he certainly seemed to like touching you. “Why’d you leave? Is everything okay?”

Oh, god. Feeling weird and slow and frustrated because he was so smart was one thing, but trying to explain it to him? Forget about it. You nodded, not entirely trusting your voice. He made a noise, a hum like a question, and nuzzled the side of your neck. Pleasant chills erupted immediately, and ran the entire length of your body before subsiding. But you could feel the question in his touch, in the way he kissed your skin. He wanted an answer.

“It’s…the dishes. I started thinking about them in here and I couldn’t get them out of my mind.”

You felt him lift his head to look at you. Without even looking at him, you could picture the way his forehead would crease as he drew his eyebrows together with concern. “You’re a bad liar,” he said gently.

You laughed. “Hey, don’t pull that expert profiler stuff with me, buddy. The little girl down the hall can tell when I’m lying. You’re not that special.” Which was, of course, another lie—he was perfect—but he didn’t contradict you. Carefully, you turned around to face him, and leaned against the sink. You didn't want to tell him, but to keep insisting that nothing was wrong would really only drag this out and make it a bigger deal than it really was. “It’s silly, okay? Just…I’m warning you of that right now, so you won’t laugh at me when I tell you.” You offered him a sheepish smile, but the concern in his features didn’t lessen a bit as he leaned in to you. With a self-conscious groan, you pressed on: “I just got…frustrated? You were over there speeding through your book while I just plodded along through mine at…like, a fraction of the speed. I just started to feel…kind of…slow, or something.”

For a while, he seemed at a loss for words. The long silence—and the way he was looking at you—really only served to make you feel even more stupid, so finally you reached out and covered his eyes with your hand. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, okay? There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re amazing. And don’t you dare even think about dumbing yourself down to make me feel better. It was just a weird…I don’t know, quirk of my brain or something. It’s fine. I know better than that. It’s done now.” Or it would be, anyway, as soon as this whole awful conversation was over.

But that, finally, seemed to spur him to action. He pulled your hand away from his eyes, but then immediately released it to cup your face in his hands. He brushed his thumbs along your cheekbones, and then slanted his lips against yours. He didn’t kiss you like this often—fierce,  demanding—but when he did, it was always enough to steal away your every conscious thought. He pressed ever closer to you, pinning you there against the sink with his body. Your hands found his hips, squeezing desperately. When he finally broke the kiss, he pulled back just far enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“You are everything to me.” His voice was rough. It was strange, meeting his eyes from this distance, but you tried it anyway. He swallowed hard. It looked like he was trying to figure out exactly how to say whatever else was on his mind, but he couldn’t quite do it. Your heart fluttered in your chest. He was not often at a loss for words. Even when he was flustered or nervous, he could always pull out some relevant piece of information from the recesses of his mind. But right now, he was just…looking at you.

You drew in a steadying breath and lifted your hands to brush his hair away from his face. “I know that, cowboy.” You tried to come off as calm and collected, but there was a tremor in your voice that betrayed just how much his words had affected you. He had to have caught it, you knew. So you just gave him another sheepish smile and stretched up a little to kiss the very tip of his nose. In a softer voice, a voice that was more like yourself, you added, “I love you.”

It was only then that he pulled away from you, but he clasped your hands in his so that he could pull you with him. “I have an idea,” he said, eyes flashing. “Come with me.”

You really didn’t have to be told twice. The dishes were all done and anyway, with the way he was looking at you, you would have followed him into the depths of hell. Instead, he led you back into the living room, sat back in his original spot on the couch, and then tugged gently on your arms to get you to join him.

“Use your words, Doctor Reid,” you teased gently. “What’s this big idea of yours?”

He didn’t answer right away. He pulled one of your hands up to his lips to press several gentle kisses to your knuckles before releasing you so he could reach out and pick up a book again. He leafed through it effortlessly with his free hand and then settled back against the cushions. “If I read out loud, we can both enjoy the same book at the same time. Is that—would you—eh… Can I? Would you listen? Is this weird?” His forehead was creased again, but this time it was more out of worry that he’d done the wrong thing. Your heart swelled in your chest and you bit the inside of your lip to keep from smiling.

Now it was your turn to pull his hand up to your lips and kiss his knuckles before pulling your hand free. You turned away from him, but it was really only to get yourself comfortable on the couch beside him. You laid down so that your head just barely rested on one of his legs (leaving enough room in his lap, you hoped, for the book he’d chosen) and then finally smiled up at him. “I would listen to you read the phone book,” you told him softly. He must have heard the truth in your words because a tender smile curled his lips as he  brushed a bit of your hair away from your face.

“Well…I think this is more interesting than the phone book.”

“We’ll see about that.” Even after all this time, he was still so easy: you couldn’t hold back your smile as you watched the confused, almost offended expression play across his features, followed immediately by realization, and then a bit of exasperation. Your comfort and happiness bubbled out of you in laughter as you reached up to caress his cheek. “God, you’re beautiful when you think I’m insulting one of your authors.”

His brows knit together in a scowl, but it was impossible to miss the smile that threatened to overtake his mouth. He was playing along. You loved him like this. “You know…I don't have to read out loud. I could just go back to reading everything in my head, and then where would you be?”

“I’d be bored,” you answered with a pout. “And lonely. Please, Spencer, won’t you tell me a story? I'm ever so sorry…” Somehow you managed to keep an innocent expression on your face just long enough to convince him. He blew out a puff of air—part laughter, part sigh—and bent to kiss you. When he sat back again, he held the book in front of him, took a moment to fix you with a steady gaze (likely making sure you were going to keep behaving: you assured him that you would with another very-picture-of-innocence expression), cleared his throat, and began to read to you.

The two of you stayed there together like that for most of the afternoon. Spencer had a lovely reading voice, calm and even, and it was just as easy to get swept away in his storytelling as it was when you were reading by yourself. Sometimes you drifted  a bit, but you always kept your attention focused on his reading. When he wasn’t using his free hand to turn the page, he absently worked his fingers through your hair. Where before that odd storm of self-consciousness and frustration had taken up so much space inside you, a peaceful happiness began to take over.

Gentle raindrops began a quiet patter against the windows, but both of you were too wrapped up in the book and in each other to take any notice of them.

[lichlairs]

Checkout our new post over at https://lichlair.com/daily-monster-27-tiamat

Daily Monster #27: Tiamat

Yeah. You read that right. Of all the 1561++ monsters currently available over at dndbeyond I somehow managed to roll the living avatar of an actual god. Now you get why I had to reroll yesterday’s monster, right? This is why. Luckily for us (mostly me, really) it so happens that I’ve felt Tiamat’s wrath first hand. Without any further ado, let us talk about one of Dungeons and Dragons most well known figures...

Tiamat

The numbers

Oh boy, where to start with this one. There’s a reason Dungeons and Dragons has mostly stayed away from giving Gods and deity like monsters their own statblocks. Even this statted version of an avatar of Tiamat has some truly game breaking stats. We’re talking about a +8 in WIS and INT, +9 in CHA, and +10 STR and CON. Even their lowest stat, DEX, is an average +0.

Tiamat’s saving throws are very much as godly as she is with a +9 to DEX, +17 to WIS, and ridiculous +19 to her STR. She could literally roll a Nat 2 and still succeed most saves without even needing to burn a legendary resistance.

Speaking of which, “resistance” is definitely a word that pops up a few times in this creature’s block. Like any boss monster worth his or her salt, Tiamat has not one, not three, but FIVE Legendary Resistances. Sorry, did I say resistances? I meant to say immunities. We’re talking about immunity to Acid, Cold, Fire, Lightning, Poison, a bunch of conditions, and the typical non-magical weapon attack resi– immunity. Oh yeah, also? Anything below a 6th level spell immediately fails since Tiamat has Limited Magic Immunity. If you’re wondering how your players are supposed to stop her, well, the simple answer is they can’t but do keep reading for the longer version.

If you thought we were done with the crazy numbers, you’re in for a treat. This gargantuan fiend (yeah, not a dragon or celestial for some reason) has an AC of 25, a hit point pool of 30d20+300, a flying speed of 120ft, and a passive perception of 36.

Yeah, that’s a +26 to any perception checks. Say goodbye to your Sneak Attacks, my fellow rogues. Oh, Invisibility? Enjoy Tiamat’s 120ft Truesight, as well as her 240ft Darkvision.

As if we didn’t have enough resistances and hit points to blow through, Tiamat also has a pretty neat Regeneration feature that just, tops her off for 30hp at the start of each of her turns.

But let’s talk about some of the damage that she can dish out instead. Of course the main “feature” if we want to call it that for this creature is that fact that, like a Hydra, there are multiple heads to deal with. Each of which has their own possible Legendary action for a Breath Weapon, at a cost of 2 of her 5 available at each round. I’ll spare you the details but just know that the averages for damages are between high 60s and low 90s. If you’re wondering what exactly you’re supposed to do with that last Legendary Action, well, you can just take a big chunk out of the Paladin with a Bite attack. Or you know, just take 5 bite attacks per round on top of your Claw-Claw-Tail Multiattack for a total of 8 attack rolls per round.

As if this monster didn’t already have enough things at its disposal, Tiamat also gets a 3/day access to the 7th level spell Divine Word, which can just instantly kill player depending on their current number of hit points.

I know I was trash talking the huge numbers this creature gets earlier in the article but, if anything I think the 240ft area to her Frightful presence should be increased. Just make it like two miles or something because holy sh–.

Oh, and just in case you somehow manage to “kill” her, she can’t actually die. She’ll just reform back at her place and plot revenge on whoever did the do.

The lore

Drawn from Babylonian and Sumerian mythology, Tiamat was known as the Goddess of the Sea. Although there are slightly different versions of the stories, basics are that she get betrayed by other gods and eventually births dragons as part of her revenge.

In terms of Dungeons and Dragons, she has been part of the world ever since 1975 when she was introduced as The Dragon Queen and although she has accumulated many other titles throughout the years, she continues to be an iconic figure in 5th edition.

She is known are one of the two primary Draconic Gods. Together with her brother Bahamut, she was once part of a single dragon deity named Io, who represented creation and was thought to have created the multiverse. Flash forward an unknown number of millennia and Io was defeated and cut through cleanly into two parts from which spawned Bahamut and Tiamat.

Chances are that if you’ve been playing Dungeons and Dragons for a bit, you will have heard of Tiamat’s and Bahamut’s rocky relationship. While their rivalry and hatred for each other is well known, this wasn’t always the case. Nowadays though, it is most certain that if Tiamat were to escape her imprisonment she would focus on bringing about the destruction of all Metallic Dragons as one of her very first acts.

Although no longer included in her statblock for 5th edition (thank god), some of the lore for older editions described Tiamat as being able to watch and listen up to a 10mile radius around her, and being able to “poison” water or any substance containing water such as potions. She could also charm reptiles and teleport around planes and locations as wished. Just when you think she couldn’t get any more broken, am I right? Thankfully, as mentioned before, none of those seem to be current parts of her 5th edition skill set. What does remain as part of her stat block is the fact that she simply cannot be killed and will eventually reform and reappear to cause trouble.

Similar to most of her dragon children, Tiamat often presents herself a woman with dark hair, a sorceress sometimes known as the Dark Lady.

If you’ve ever fought an ancient chromatic dragon in your campaign, there’s a slight chance that they were in fact spawned directly from Tiamat and one of her multiple consorts.

As a Greater God, Tiamat doesn’t just represent all even dragons and reptiles, but also the ideals of conquest, greed, destruction, tyranny and a bunch of other nice stuff. Her hunger for power is such that she has in fact been killing and absorbing other Gods and their power for a very long time. Many believe this to be one of the reasons that prompted her getting banished.

If you’re wondering where exactly you can find this fiendish creature so that you may slay her once and for all, look no further than Avernus; first layer of the Nine Hells. Although trapped here, she is free to roam as wished. In the untold years since her imprisonment she has built a massive fortress from which she rules as she continues to seek for means to escape her imprisonment. Of course if you are thinking of approaching her there, you might have to deal with large numbers of other devils, as the Dragon Queen has a decent amount of support from Asmodeus himself.

Back on the Material Plane, the Cult of the Dragon, also known as Church of Tiamat, and the Keepers of the Secret Hoard are always hard at work attempting to free the Dragon Queen. The cult is explored in great detail in the 5th edition modules Hoard of the Dragon Queen and Rise of Tiamat, but for now, just know that Tiamat’s followers tend to be just a greedy and power hungry as she is. Those who achieve a certain amount of power and notoriety within the ranks become known as Wyrmspeakers. In terms of her dragon followers, chromatic dragons often commit atrocities and mass destruction in her name.

The execution

Look man, I get it. Dragons are cool and in a game half named after them, we definitely want to fight them, but Tiamat? Seriously? It’s your fiery funeral, but okay, let’s see…

Actually, let us start by discussing how we’re meant to fight her in one of WoC’s own modules. I suppose the whole article is a giant spoiler for the Rise of Tiamat Module as it is but just in case: Spoilers ahead!

At the end of the Rise of Tiamat module (second part of the Tyranny of Dragons adventure set) the party of heroes is meant to race against the Cult of the Dragon as the rush to complete a ritual that will free Tiamat from her imprisonment in the Nine Hells. It is stated several times throughout the book that the chances for the players to defeat Tiamat, if she is successfully summoned, are extremely slim. So slim in fact, that the adventure places several ‘clauses’ for the ritual that allow the players multiple ways to either stop the ritual completely or greatly weaken Tiamat’s avatar once she comes through into the Material Plane. From reducing her hit points and number of Legendary actions and resistances to lowering her AC, all so that the players might have a chance, just a chance, of sending her back to Avernus.

I bring this up because, unless you’re planning on this encounter to TPK your players and wipe out the board, you will definitely need to come up with some ways to give your players and edge and weaken Tiamat.

And this is just Tiamat (ha!) that we’re talking about here. If we’re going by lore alone she will definitely not be by herself when the time comes to rise. She will have a massive array of allies from cultists, to chromatic dragons and devils. What I’m saying here is that this is definitely not an encounter to through at your players lightly. It will require extreme balancing and preparation on your part as the Dungeon Master.

If your Rise of Tiamat players are unfortunate enough to not stop the ritual in time, or if you’re still set on subjecting your group to Tiamat’s wrath, do try your best to make the encounter memorable! Go all out and don’t be afraid to get creative with combat. This should be the kind of be all or end all final battle where all the player’s effort finally pays out as their allies assemble and prepare for a final assault against Tiamat’s forces.

Oh boy, that was a long one but I definitely enjoyed doing all the research needed for this piece. Even learned a few things I didn’t know despite having played through the Tyranny of Dragons module.

As always, thank you for reading and, if you enjoyed this article, consider following us on our social media to never miss out on our new content. We post new articles every day.

[htstalybridge]

Thought for the day:8th July

Hi Church: hope all continues to be well with you all.

Consider your own call, brothers and sisters: not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are, so that no one  might boast in the presence of God. (1 Corinthians 1.20-29)

I expect many of you, like myself, have spent at least part of the last few months looking for things to do. Early on I even cleaned both our cars which I never do; I’d rather pay a fiver up the road. Among other things, some useful and some not so useful, I have read a number of novels, a couple written by the post war novelist R E Delderfield that I’d missed and, along with a few others, a new novel by Robert Harris. I bought it on publication day from Amazon; don’t normally do that either!

‘The second sleep’ is set several centuries in the future in a post apocalyptic world. The nature of the apocalypse is not clearly defined however it’s result is; the complete collapse of the World Wide Web. This results within twenty four hours with the collapse of banking (money simply vanishes) and the total collapse of food distribution. ‘Most Londoners are six meals away from starvation’ a report to government had said in 2022. The apocalypse came in 2025. What has emerged several centuries later is a totally none industrial society, as yet no one has re-invented the power of steam, let along electricity. However what I found fascinating about this story was that in this post apocalyptic world England is ruled by a King who administers law and order through the Church of England. The Church of England itself has reverted to the 1549 Book of Common Prayer of Thomas Crammer, so much so, the common language of the people is Elizabethan English. Needless to say life is not a bundle of laughs. There is more than a passing nod here to ‘A Handmaid’s Tale’ (Margaret Atwood, published in 1985) although generally speaking life in Tudor style England is probably preferable to that in Gilead; despite power crazy Bishops.  

The Church with coercive power reminded me of a sermon, talk, address (which ever) I heard many years ago given by Tony Campolo. For those of you who didn’t go to Spring Harvest in the 80’s and 90’s Tony Campolo is an American Christian speaker with a background in sociology who, when he does speak, sounds like a member of the Italian mafia. On this occasion he was talking about power being contrary to the nature of God and there were two sentences that I particularly remember. “You can love someone or you can exercise power over someone but you cannot do both at the same time” and “the worst thing that ever happened to the Christian Church was the Roman Empire got a born again Emperor.” Tony Campolo’s pitch was that such is the nature of God’s love he is unable to exercise power over us. Consequently as Jesus followers to seek to exercise power over another person is un-Christ like.

In order to get our heads around this we must first look at two Greek words. Usually when we come across the word power in the New Testament it is a translation of the word dunamis (δΰναμείς). Dunamis often refers to helping, enabling, strengthening or making things possible. The power of the Holy Spirit enables or strengthens the believer for instance. The second Greek word is exousia (εξουσιά) and it refers to control, domination and manipulation. In Mark chapter 10 we read: “So Jesus called them and said to them, ‘You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.’  Here the Greek word is exousia and Jesus goes on to say that his way, the Jesus way, is totally the opposite. When Jesus goes on “to give his life a ransom for many” he is showing that the apparent powerlessness of love is the only power that God has at his disposal.

There is something very profound here. God will never seek to control us. God will never seek to impose his will on us and he will never bully or badger us. Why? because he cannot. The reason why it appears God allows bad things to happen is because “love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends” (1 Corinthians 13) This is the only way that God can function because love is always an invitation, an opportunity, it is never a demand. If truth be known we sometimes find such a reality deeply frustrating for the lure of power, the easy fix of control, is deeply attractive. “This is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya, punk?” (Clint Eastwood - Dirty Harry 1971). Where would Hollywood be without problem solving gunmen? Or aliens. In the re-make of ‘The day the earth stood still’ aliens save the planet Earth from humans by quite literally switching everything off; very apocalyptic! If ever we dream of God taking total control of the planet I wonder if we would really be up for the consequences. Take a look at the Sermon on the Mount for instance. Western life style would be a huge casualty.

In 1 Corinthians 13 love is a translation of our old favourite agapa (άγάπή) which is not the easiest word in the NT Greek lexicon to translate. In the Authorised Version it is often translated as ‘charity’ which gives us a better clue. If I give to charity or put a fiver into the hands of a street homeless person it is at a cost to myself for which I can expect nothing in return. God’s love for us is mega costly for it ends on a cross but nowhere does God say look at what I have endured for you so now you have an obligation to respond and if you don’t I will make you. In Luke 17 only one of the ten lepers Jesus heals returns to offer thanks to God. Perhaps one of the most amazing aspects of God’s love is that it causes him to be constantly ignored which of course the Bible recognises as sin and the path to self destruction. “Your choice” we hear God say. “I have shown you the alternative but you have to decide.” This is tough stuff but it helps to explain much of what goes on in our world.  

So where is this taking us? Coercive control is now enshrined in law as a recognised form of domestic violence but taking the log out of our own eyes before removing the speck from others the question for all who seek to be Christ like, followers of the Jesus way, is this. How often do we all subvert loving behaviours with controlling behaviours be it in our marriages, our families, at work, at college, in church? By how much do we contribute to the mindset of a society that often seeks controlling solutions rather than loving solutions, recognising that the latter will cost us time, energy, money and understanding. Having worked as a prison chaplain in HMP Holloway my wife Lynda will tell you that 70% of women in prison have been subject to sexual abuse and coercive control and that whilst the justice system usually sees them as perpetrators they are in reality very often victims. Of course the Daily Mail will tell you otherwise but surely Jesus followers don’t adjust their mindset according the Daily Mail!

The reality is that the Jesus way is so radical, so counter cultural and so challenging that most of us will take a life time getting our heads round it and even then will probably still not fully succeed. When Jesus talks about the narrow way that few will enter he is not just referring to deciding to become a Christian he is pointing to the reality that the way of the cross demands a totally different world view, a totally different life style, a totally different mindset that eschews power and control and requires the giving of self at whatever cost with no promise of a return. “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it.” (Luke chapter 9)

To take up the cross daily requires abandoning all controlling behaviours for nowhere was Jesus less in control that on the cross. The Apostle Paul says that to the Greek/Roman mind such a concept was ludicrous yet “the folly of God is wiser than human weakness and the weakness of God stronger than human strength.” 1 Corinthians 1:25

A number of years ago Tony Campolo posed this question to right wing American evangelicals. “When you have spat on gay people, when you have beaten gay people to the ground and when you have put gay people in prison how will you ever tell them that God loves them?” Good question.     

Stay safe - wash your hands - Jesus loves you

Michael Hughes

[marilynngmesalo]

Roger Penske ends banner season with NASCAR Hall induction

Roger Penske ends banner season with NASCAR Hall induction Roger Penske ends banner season with NASCAR Hall induction https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

CHARLOTTE, N.C. — There was no need for Roger Penske to stay awake for Daytona’s 24-hour sports car race. Penske has people to do that for him, and hanging out atop a pit stand watching telemetry for two trips around the clock is slightly below his paygrade.

When he did it last year, Team Penske’s return season to sports cars racing, somebody had dared “The Captain” to hunker down for the entire Rolex 24 at Daytona. It was an impressive effort many who are far younger than Penske have failed to complete.

Once he had finished the first 24-hour race it seemed silly to do it again, particularly during the cold and blustery rainstorm that drowned Daytona International Speedway on Sunday.

But Penske had committed to be part of the team for the entire event and Team Penske, so organized and unflappable, had meticulously prepared for the conditions.

Penske’s transporter was stacked with thermal underwear — “I’ve got my ski stuff here,” he said — heavy water-resistant coats and black beanies branded with the Penske mark. The pit stand had been renovated to create additional space so Penske didn’t have to sit all night, a lesson learned from last year’s race, and overhead heaters had been installed.

When the poor weather finally hit the speedway, the crew zipped clear flaps and enclosed the pit stand to escape the wind and torrential rain.

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A month shy of his 82nd birthday, in the heaviest rain many racing veterans had ever seen, Penske pulled his beanie down low and hunkered down for an all-nighter.

“He doesn’t even want to sit down, he’s just standing there and it’s crazy,” said Juan Pablo Montoya, winner of the 16th of Penske’s record 17 Indianapolis 500 victories. “That’s why he’s the big man and we are not.”

His reasoning? Should he step away even briefly and one of his two cars had some sort of problem, Penske wanted to be present for problem-solving and strategic decisions.

“I could never do that, I could never stay up,” said Penske driver Ricky Taylor, who noted after the final practice session before the Rolex that Penske had noticed an irregularity on the track and found Taylor to show him where to avoid.

Helio Castroneves, winner of three Indy 500s for Penske, wasn’t at all surprised to see his boss there for the long haul.

“When you are passionate about racing like Roger, he has no reason not to be here for all of it,” Castroneves said. “And three-four hours is all he needs to charge his battery. He has a very quick charger.”

Penske had a sensible rebuttal for Castroneves’ claim that the boss rarely sleeps.

“Guess it all depends on if it is something worth staying awake for,” he said.

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Next up is Penske’s Friday night induction into the NASCAR Hall of Fame’s 10th class, which was one of the most competitive elections in years. Jeff Gordon is the headliner, along with Davey Allison and Alan Kulwicki, drivers both killed in aviation accidents at the prime of their careers. Team owners Penske and Jack Roush, a pair of Detroit fixtures who intertwined their many business interests with the automotive industry and motorsports, were elected together.

“Listen I’m just glad they let guys in from the North,” Penske joked about his induction with Roush. Both team owners had been on the ballot several years before they were voted in last May, shortly before Will Power won Penske another Indy 500 title.

“For us going in with Jack, a Michigan guy like we are, a business owner like we are, it’s a big honour for the family, all the people before us who helped us open the doors, and I was surprised when I was picked. You never know when is the right time to go in — is it because of your age? What’s the right time?”

Penske was elected based on his entire body of work, even though this Hall of Fame is specific to NASCAR. The voting was done five days before the biggest Sunday in racing of the year. Penske started his day with four Chevrolets racing at Indianapolis, where Power won, then the action resumed in North Carolina at the Coca-Cola 600 with three Penske Fords and a fourth affiliated car in the field.

The election was one part of a season in which Penske won both the IndyCar races at Indianapolis Motor Speedway, the NASCAR race at the Brickyard, the organization’s 500th overall victory and NASCAR’s cup title. Penske’s long-awaited return to sports car racing was completed last season with a two-car Acura effort, and Scott McLaughlin won the Virgin Australia Supercars title one week after Joey Logano’s surprise Cup championship.

Across all his platforms, it was the most consistent season for Penske, who in NASCAR now has two Cup titles and two Daytona 500 victories.

“It’s our 52nd year in racing and I guess it was time to make it all happen,” Penske said. “It was the culmination of all our hard work, and we’ve had great seasons and maybe just don’t get all the PR buzz down in NASCAR. Our guys have stayed under the radar, I guess except when our drivers get into a mess, but the NASCAR championship was really, really important that I get that done the year I go into the Hall because that validates and gives the team and me validation to be in the Hall.”

Penske leads by example with standards that require immaculate, crease-free uniforms and a commitment to excellence and professionalism. When Alexander Rossi was hired to join Penske’s Rolex lineup, he shaved his beard on his final day of Christmas vacation and arrived in Daytona with a clean face for the first time in years. No one told him to shave, he just assumed it was the Penske way of doing things.

The organization is indeed buttoned up to Penske’s preferences, but it’s not as straight-laced as outsiders perceive.

“He’s such a people person, he has such a charisma, everybody likes him, everybody wants to work for him and the way he runs the team is unbelievable,” Montoya said. “It’s really funny because from the outside it looks very serious and very strict, but we actually do have a lot of fun and a really good time.”

They understand Penske is the man they must please and that he prefers winning but mandates a standard of excellence to all his processes.

“His ability to lead by example is second to none. He doesn’t have to go in the locker room and give the big pep talk like other coaches and owners have to do in other sports. His presence is enough,” Logano said. “Everybody knows who they’re racing for, who they’re working for and what he expects out of you.”

——

More AP auto racing: https://apnews.com/apf-AutoRacing and https://twitter.com/AP–Sports

Click for update news Bangla news http://bit.ly/2Toq0Wb world news

[joshuazev]

On not quite slowing the ranty tangent down:

I know I’m not saying anything new, but it is quite sad how the media determines the label for mass murderers/killers that are white as opposed to mass murderers/killers from different nations and of a different skin tone.  According to many articles the man responsible for the largest mass shooting in USA history this past week was called a “lone wolf” in many articles, whereas others in the past who committed similar acts, but were of a different race, were called “terrorists.”  None of the white males who have done horrific things within this country have ever been associated with that term.  I suppose it depends on which articles you read.  Super left, left, center, right, or super right.  I was looking at my Facebook feed and noticed a lot of reposted articles drawing attention to this failed discrepancy.  Someone also mentioned how the government has a tendency to hone in on Islamic groups with such fervor; combatting them is their agenda and their number one priority.  However, when a terrorist attack happens in the US, such as the recent incident, there is little movement from the government to alter some of the policies of the NRA.  Like everyone, I’ve watched some of these news reviews of the Las Vegas attack in utter awe.  How the hell did this guy bring so many guns up to his room?  How did he purchase so many guns to begin with?  There’s no register of gun buyers that sets off an alarm when people have more than a certain amount in their name?  Seems like a flawed system.  I don’t know why I was thinking this the other day, but maybe I was caught up in all the conspiracy theories going around of what happened during the attack and why it played out the way it did?  My first thought were to the supposed conspiracy theories surrounding W Bush when the Twin Towers were attacked.  A lot of people thought it was an inside job.  Next thing you know the Iraq War is happening.  My parallel thoughts with respect to Trump made me think about all of the shit he was dealing with.  The Hurricanes, Puerto Rico, all of the ridiculous NFL stuff.  He was under heavy fire for everything, not to mention his approval rating was hitting new lows and a louder call for an impeachment was starting to reach more ears.  I thought maybe Trump had a hand in the mass murder, sad to say, to create a distraction and take the attention off of him.  The fucked up thing about it and what ends up being the spoiler for my theory is that the victims were mainly white people and it was at a country concert.  Something tells me Trump wouldn’t want so many white people to die at his expense.

I keep thinking of an apocalyptic time that we are headed towards.  Something always brings me back to Suzan Lori Parks’ play, “The death of the last black man in the entire world.”  The way black people are treated today I wonder if it is totally out of the equation to think that a genocide could take place.  I know we like to think that this era is far too PC for something like that and so many other countries wouldn’t let something like that happen, but is that awful, bleak, grim possibility totally unbelievable?  I sincerely hope it is.  I hope humanity has advanced enough in the past centuries to not go completely fucking crazy.  Then again, there are examples of craziness and insanity every day.  I just wonder if white people would take it upon themselves to stop something like that from happening.  They would be an intrinsic part of the resistance.  People in general, white people especially, are known to make situations a “me vs. them” scenario.  If a fascist regime like five steps beyond Trump suddenly called for the elimination of the black race would white people go into enough of an uproar to impede it.  The problem is that this is a nation divided and maybe not all the fucked up, out of their heads, people on the lunatic side would allow that to happen and sit by and watch, but a lot of them would.  That’s an extreme thing to say.  It really is.  Let’s not forget that we have thousands upon thousands of white supremacists and neo-nazis and fucking holocaust deniers who would not give two shits if the Jews had been completely exterminated.  The holocaust happened in Europe and a lot of people in America didn’t care one bit.  Slavery, black oppression, racial inequality has happened and still happens to this day.  Those same deniers don’t care if that racist movement is revitalized.  Half the country is still living in ancient times.    

Let’s slow this ranty tangent down.

I don’t know exactly where I’m going with this next thing, but I catered for the second time today and again was in awe, felt refreshed, and proud of all of the cultures and countries represented tonight.  There were several moments where people split off into their little groups.  A group of Brazilians laughing about something I couldn’t understand very well, but could when a couple of Dominicans joined into the conversation.  There wasn’t as much of a Eastern European population as there was last time, but I met up with an Australian and a Puerto Rican/Dominican dude and we shot the shit for a while.  That was the staff area every time we had a break.  Maybe that’s New York.  Maybe that’s not an accurate sample of the rest of the world, but not to sit here and write on my soapbox—it was comforting.  It was inspiring.  I’ve seen it enough to not feel sobered when I see people from all over the world interacting and treating each other as equals.  Let’s say the white south was all of a sudden inhabited by people from the Caribbean, South America, and Africa to the point where the white people already living in the area became the minority.  Would it be tiki torches and hate groups going after them?  Maybe.  I think so much of racism is formed in ignorance.  So much is created through lack of information.  Lack of exposure.  Would their opinions change?  Would their racism lessen?  Would the presence of international peoples be enough by itself to set them off?  I wonder, indeed.  I wonder sometimes how I compare with the average person living in America with respect to self-guilt.  It’s almost become taboo for someone to mention the complete obvious that this is the Native Americans’ land, we’ve contributed to their genocide and they have become a severely severely endangered peoples.  The other day one of my family members was telling me how his wife went to work down in New Mexico on a Navajo Indian reservation.  His wife didn’t know what to expect, but was surprised at how different everything was.  The husband said the attitude of the Navajo’s was a little jarring and there was an obvious feeling that they didn’t want any visitors there.  I was thinking to myself, “well, that makes sense.”  I mean, we are talking about a native people who used to be the rightful owners of their native land and their home has now been reduced to reservations.  I mean how fucked up can it get?  I would be more surprised if they acted like Stepford Wives and invited every visitor over for dinner when the only thing that gesture has gotten them in the past is a whole bunch of dead people.  I remember in high school when we used to read segments from Howard Zinn’s “People’s History of the United States.”  Unfortunately, we weren’t required to read all of it, but I remember some passages vividly.  We were required to read all about the Native American displacement, the Trail of Tears and how their land shrunk and shrunk and shrunk until it was reduced to almost nothing.  That’s another movie idea that no one has made yet.  Native Americans taking back the US.  Knowing the media and the movie industry, they’d probably dumb it a horror film.  Knowing the media and the movie industry, they’d probably dumb it controversial.  And knowing the audience for movies nowadays, people would probably rather see the eighth rendition of Spiderman and the fourth rendition of Star Wars before seeing a movie that would cool their blood and make them think.  A movie that would sober their alcoholic movie accessories and American popcorn.  Could it ruin their taste buds, dare I say?

How many people actually moved when Trump became president?  Anyone got a Canadian census I can borrow?  Anyone move to Texas or Puerto Rico or a Caribbean island and then move back to their original home?  Outside of all of the marches—and there have been several—who has moved at all?  Who has moved their asses and their fingers instead of just their fingers?  (So much for slowing the tangent down).  I had a funny thought.  In “West Side Story,” the Sharks are fighting the Jets.  The Europeans against the Puerto Ricans.  If that movie was modernized (please, please don’t get any ideas Hollywood) I think both groups would resist Trump.  Who knows?  

Food for thought, ladies and gentleman.  I hope my lactose thoughts didn’t upset any stomachs.        

[thetroysshortstories-blog]

Welcome to Earth.

Meedin’s palms were becoming more and more clammy. His anxiety became palpable, and you could see as soon as you looked at him. “Will you relax?” Argnot said in a dismissive voice, “Everything will be fine, these humans are not so scary.”

“You don’t know that!” Meedin snapped. “We only know what we’ve seen on our holotable”

The two were aliens from a planet far away. Their objective was to scout out the planet Earth and find out what they could while trying to blend in.

“We will only be down there a couple of hours” Argnot reassured. “I’m telling you, it will be okay!”

“Yeah, but you always say that! And every time something bad happens.

“ Meedin rebutted, “What? Name one time something went wrong.”

“How about the time I got eaten by a snaggle beast because you thought calling his mother fat was a compliment?”

“Oh yeah, sorry abou …”

“Or the time I was nearly vaporized by the Sordelian lava queen because you thought her robes were toilet paper!”

Right …”

“OR the time …”

“Enough! I get it!” Argnot interrupted.

“Look, I’m sorry about all that stuff. But I promise on all seven of my mothers graves you won’t be harmed.”

Meedin looked at Argnot’s bulbous head and lifeless black eyes for a long time with as much of a scowl as he could muster. Argnot always got them into trouble. And for some reason, even though Meedin was the responsible, well-educated, rule following one of the two, it was always him that suffered from Argnot’s recklessness. It never made sense and his promises were always the same. Meedin wouldn’t get hurt, and every time, that promise failed. Meedin had considered getting cloning attached to his life insurance policy should something happen to him; He could also send his clone in to get killed rather than himself.

“Okay …” Argnot finally said after being stared at menacingly for a while, “I’m going to go prep for recon.”

As Argnot began to walk towards the prep room, he couldn’t help but think about why Meedin hated him so much. Sure all the lady aliens preferred him and he was never getting hurt but Meedin got all the credit for everything; all the awards and accolades. None of that mattered to Argnot, “But still” he thought.

Meedin strolled into the room shortly after. He walked and grabbed his holographic projector and slapped it on his wrist. It was a handy little device (no pun intended) that would disguise you as a required species. Its only draw back being you had to get a DNA sample from the desired being, which was not always easy but it was Argnot’s favorite part.

“ Are you ready?” Argnot asked.

“As I’m going to be, but you’re right. These humans don’t look too bad.”

“That’s the spirit!” Argnot cheered.

They boarded their landing craft and within minutes were on the ground. The fog from the ships depressurization faded and the two aliens descended the ramp onto strange new ground.

“Okay, first things first,” Meedin started, “Find our disguises.”

“Right,” Argnot excitedly replied, “The fun part!”

They walked out of a clearing of trees and onto the street in front of them. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There were just some habitation units and transportation pods of varying size. They shifted their sights trying to get a feel for things when they spotted something disconcerting.

“Wha… Do They?” Argnot started.

“Decorate their homes with the bones of their own species?” Meedin said, “It looks like it.”

“What are those orange things?”

“They look to be some sort of offering. They light them as some sort of warning?” Meedin guessed.

Then they were silent for a moment when hands were placed on both of their shoulders out of nowhere from behind! It’s important to note the two aliens had very different responses. Argnot immediately pulled the hand over his shoulder and body slammed the unknown creature then assumed an extraterrestrial martial arts pose. Meedin’s response was a high pitch squeal similar to that of a small earth born girl with arms at both sides and mouth wide open.

After Argnot and the apparent human watched Meedin scream for about 15 more seconds until it slowly stopped, Argnot returned his attention back to the human. While still in his stance Argnot started,

“Who are you and we come in peace… Maybe..”

“Whoa dude, relax!” The human man said.

Admittedly the two aliens mistook this man for a female initially due to his long hair, which, according to his studies, Meedin thought was a female trait.

“I was only gonna say you two look awesome man!” The human continued.

Argnot didn’t flinch and even though he was silent, Meedin’s mouth was still wide open. Argnot moved into a normal standing position while closing Meedins mouth.

“My name is Chase! I think you two are totally rad! You’ve got to come to Devil’s Dungeon with me! I’m meeting some friends there!”

“You mean,” Meedin started inquisitively, “You and your friends visit a dungeon? With excitement?”

“Yeah man! It’s the best haunted house in town!” Chase said in a tone the suggested some type of substance abuse.

“What’s a haunted house?” Argnot asked.

“What?!” Chase exclaimed. “You two crazy cats have never been! You have to come! It’s where all of your friends go to get the adrenaline rush of the year!”

“Speaking of friends, what are you names?” Chase added with huge eyes that were dilated.

“Ummm.” Meedin started. “Debbbborah?” he finished unsure of himself.

“Alright! Rad man!” I’ve never met a dude named Debbie before!” Chase added, “And you?” Pointing at Argnot.

“Argnot,” Argnot said with a stupid smile on his face.

Meedin just scowled at him.

“Cool! Well the party is this way! Come on!”

Chase said while walking away.

“Argnot. Really?” Meedin asked annoyed.

“Deborah?” Argnot replied.

“I DON’T KNOW!” Meedin shouted while throwing both hands up.

They followed Chase down the road and talked about how fortuitous it was to stumble upon a human who appreciated their appearance. What confused them was, to their knowledge, no Alien from their planet had ever been to Earth, but it was like he recognized them. They rounded a corner and all of a sudden strange sounds blared through the air.

“What is that?” Meedin asked.

“Are you kidding?” Chase replied in awe. “That’s the monster mash! Gee, it’s like you two are really from another planet!”

“Right…” Argnot added, “What a crazy idea.”

The two aliens caught on. Clearly, some of their species landed here eons ago and have made their presence normal. It wasn’t long before they had made it to the ‘haunted house.’ As they were walking Meedin stopped in his tracks and his mouth dropped open.

“This is it dudes!” Chase exclaimed. “Devils Dungeon.”

The building had dark red lights from every window and demonic figures hanging from ledges and pouring out of the building. All around them were different species they weren’t prepared for or other humans in extravagant dress or military garb.

Meedin still in his same jaw dropped position began letting out screams in bursts in the same shrill tone. Argnot also stopped in his place. Chased got behind them and pushed them on their heels toward the building.

“Don’t worry dudes,” Chase reassured, “this ones on me! Three please!” Chase gestured to the ticket booth.

“People pay for this?” Argnot asked.

“Yeah man! Times a wasting!” Chase said wile running in. “Let’s go!”

The nightmare began. The two aliens cautiously entered the building and followed on Chase like moths on a light.

“Hey relax dudes! It won’t be that bad.”

In that same moment a large green humanoid thing with bolts in it’s neck rounded a corner with a roar. I’m sure you’ve figured out what kind of scream Meedin had, but Argnot’s turned into a low rumbling, sort of like a cow. They kept on moving all the while never taking a breath. At one point Meedin cam face to face with a zombie and the screaming/moaning match began. Chase had to drag him away. It went on and on like this for twenty minutes.

It was over. They made it to the end and the light from outside was in sight. In the light of the door stepped a large bulking man with a hockey mask and a chain operating roar machine. He raised his machine above his head and let out a wail!

“That’s it! That’s it! That’s it!” Meedin said sounding like a broken holorecord, while Argnot maintained his bovine-esk scream.

The two with movements and screams that defied logic, they sprinted by the beast out the door and into the woods where they came from. Chase followed them out of the door to see the ship they came in on take flight and disappear into the night sky.

“Aw wow! They were really aliens! Bummer. They totally would’ve won the costume contest!” Chase said.

                               The End.