#closes thing to heven we have

[whumpcereal]

the kennel, will & his dad reunited

part of the kennel. follows will's rescue; master list here.

content warnings for: graphic descriptions of bodily injury and scarring, med whump, mild body horror, references to mouth whump, references to past noncon, hospitals, absent parents, unconscious whumpee, aftermath of captivity, adult language

after will's rescue, the fragile cry

“Mr. Cartwright?” 

Brian looks up, blinking at the woman in front of him. She wears a navy pantsuit, and her dark hair is tamed into a tight, perfect bun at the nape of her neck, and maybe he would think she was attractive under any other circumstances. 

But this woman is here because of Will. She’s Brian’s handler, meant to keep the news of Will’s recovery underwraps until the Bureau is ready to put out a press release. Until they know what they’re dealing with. 

Brian Cartwright hasn’t seen his son in 293 days. 

He isn’t supposed to keep track–the counselor he’s been working with says that it isn’t necessarily helpful to watch the time so closely–but Brian can’t help it. He keeps a running tally of the days in the corner of his desk calendar. Sometimes, updating the long line of hatch marks is the only thing he remembers to do when he goes into the office. They don’t expect much from him, of course, and they won’t fire him; no one fires the guy whose son has been kidnapped. 

And Will was kidnapped. Well, worse than kidnapped, but Brian tries not to think too much about it. “Trafficked” is the word the FBI uses; Brian never would have thought the word could apply to his son. That there would be whole teams of people working undercover to recover whatever is left of his boy. But Brian’s spent the last 112 days coming to terms with it, ever since Tommy and Annie were rescued.

Brian waited with the Mahoneys that day. The team that raided Barker’s compound had been so sure that both boys would be there. After all, Will and Tommy had been–well, filmed together. Brian and Doug Mahoney had both had to positively identify their sons from one of Barker’s endless live feeds. The agents brought them in separately, at least, but what that monster made Tommy and Will do–what he made Tommy do to Will–it’s fucking burned on Brian’s retinas. He and Doug have barely been able to look at each other since. 

But the boys were there. They had proof that they were with Barker. That they were alive. 

Brian and the Mahoneys waited then, just like Brian is waiting now. He’d envied them then too. They had each other, someone else who understood the fear and the anguish of losing their child. Brian had tried to call Casey after Will disappeared, but she’d changed her number. He sat on the other side of the waiting room from the Mahoneys, and he’d tried to ignore the jealousy. He tried to feel relieved. But somehow, he couldn’t. He knew somehow, he guesses. 

When the ambulance came to the hospital, Will wasn’t in it. 

We weren’t able to recover him, sir. He wasn’t there. The girl–Barker’s daughter–she says he was sold a few weeks ago. 

Sold. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out for what. Not after what Brian had seen in those videos. 

Brian collapsed in the waiting room that day. Boom down, like Will used to say when he played with his G.I. Joes. Doug and Joanne were escorted back to be with their son, and Brian was put under observation for forty-eight hours. He thought he was having a heart attack. He wasn’t. His heart was just breaking. What was left of it, anyway.

He’s spent most of the last year wandering around with a hole in his chest. Truthfully, he’s spent most of the last fourteen years that way. Ever since Casey left them. He just never thought it could get any worse. He didn’t think of what might happen to Will. 

But who thinks of shit like this? No one. Because things like this, they don’t happen. Except, now, Brian knows, they do. 

“Mr. Cartwright?” the agent says again. Brian nods and forces himself to focus on her face. She smiles. “I’m Agent Madeline Hevener. I’ll stay with you until your son arrives.” 

Brian nods. There was an agent who waited with them before too. 

“What–” he clears his throat and stares down at the broad backs of his hands, “what do you know?” 

Agent Hevener sits two chairs away from Brian, but she angles her knees toward him. She glances up at the waiting room television. The cable news station is still talking about a late-season hurricane in the Caribbean. Soon, they will be talking about Will. 

“We know that he’s alive,” she says gently. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means that he’s coming home to you, Mr. Cartwright.” 

“But–” 

Agent Hevener crosses her ankles and sinks back into the vinyl chair. “We won’t know many specifics about his physical condition until the doctors here have a chance to examine him. He was unconscious when he was extracted, but Agent Derringer was able to speak to him briefly before transport.”

“What did he say?” 

“Agent Derringer?”

“No. Will. What did he say to Agent Derringer?” 

Agent Hevener’s green eyes soften a little. “I don’t know, sir. He was likely in shock, and sometimes, people aren’t very communicative when they’re in such a state.” 

“Oh,” Brian says numbly. He doesn’t like the way she’s looking at him. Like she knows something he doesn’t. 

“The important thing is that he’ll be here soon.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I want to prepare you for that, sir.” 

Brian scrubs his face with his palm. “What do you mean?” He asks, even though he’s under no illusions that anyone can prepare him for what’s happened to Will over the last ten months. 

“I mean that the press attention on this particular case is going to be intense. After Barker’s compound was raided, it set off a tremendous interest in your son’s disappearance. Once the news breaks, Will is going to be the center of attention, most of it unwanted. The Bureau will manage as much of it as we can while he’s hospitalized, but it’s going to be difficult. People will assume they’re entitled to access to him.” 

Brian nods. “I–I know the Mahoneys have had to deal with some of that.” 

“Tommy’s case is a little different than your son’s,” Agent Hevener says, and Brian can tell she’s choosing her words with care. “Agent Derringer wanted me to communicate to you that Will–well, he likely will be very different than he was the last time you saw him.”

The hair on Brian’s arms stands up. “What does that mean?” 

“Again, we don’t have all the specifics just yet. But cursory appraisal of injuries–” 

“Just say what you mean.” 

“Agent Derringer’s initial reports suggest Will was very likely tortured, sir. In a way that’s left him noticeably physically scarred.” 

“Oh,” Brian whispers. The coffee he had an hour ago pitches in his gut. “Oh. Oh, God.” 

All he can think of is Will’s face the night Casey left. His big brown eyes hovering over full baby cheeks. His little body pressed against the front room window, roly poly in his Ninja Turtle sweats. It physically hurt Brian to look at him that night, to realize how small and fragile his son was. How he would never be able to protect Will from the hurt that was barreling toward them both. But this—this—

“Mr. Cartwright–” 

“No, go on. Please.” 

“It may be difficult to hear.” 

Brian shakes his head. “Just tell me.” 

“Agent Derringer also saw some indicators that Will was exposed to repeated sexual violence.”

It isn’t a surprise. Brian knew it was likely. The agents warned him when they found out that Will had been sold that Barker’s transactions were typically for the purposes of sex trafficking. And there was the evidence from the compound, of course. But that doesn’t make it any easier to hear. How could this happen to his little boy? 

The explanation worries the underside of Brian’s ribs like a blade. It’s his fault. If he’d only been more present, if he’d only done better by Will–

He can still see Will, his little face pressed against that damned window. 

She’s gonna come back, right, Daddy? 

Brian hadn’t answered his son. He let Will stand at that stupid window for hours because he didn’t know how to answer. He poured himself a drink and let Will cry, and he never answered any of Will’s questions. Brian retreated into his own world after Casey left, and he told himself he was doing right, that he was taking care of Will in his own way, that Will would be better off for it. Will didn’t need him.

But Will had needed him, and he wasn’t there. Brian buries his face in his hands. 

“It’s likely–” Agent Hevener hesitates, “In cases like Will’s, there may be some communication deficits. We know that he was quite literally silenced during his time with Barker, and he probably wasn’t allowed to voice his fears or concerns at any point during his captivity.” 

Brian blanches. It’s bad enough to be reminded what that sick fuck did to his son, but it’s the agent’s choice of words. Captivity. Like Will is some kind of animal. But after his time with Barker, maybe that’s exactly how Will thinks of himself. Oh, God. 

“And post-traumatic stress is almost a guarantee.” 

No shit. “Yeah. I–yeah, of course.” 

Agent Hevener ducks her head to meet Brian’s eyes. “What I’m saying is, Mr. Cartwright, is that, while you should absolutely be happy that Will is coming home, you need to be prepared for how difficult it may be to connect with him for a while.”  

Brian wants to laugh even as tears needle the back of his eyes. Like he’s ever known how to connect with his son. But none of that is Will’s fault. None of it. 

“And in the case that communication is a challenge, you may need special support when it comes to dealing with media attention. As I said, the Bureau will provide you with a consultant for the duration of Will’s hospitalization, however long that may be–” 

But Brian isn’t listening. 

“What did you mean?

Agent Hevener’s nose wrinkles. “I’m sorry?” 

“When you said Will’s different from Tommy? Tommy, he–what that bastard did to them–it was the same, and you’re not–you aren’t giving them–” 

It’s something Brian hasn’t voiced before, because who would he tell? What would he say? But it isn’t fair. It’s a ridiculous thought for a grown man to have, but that doesn’t make it any less true. He saw Doug Mahoney’s face just after they saw those videos. He sees the way that Joanne covers up her relief with pity. Because Tommy came home, and Will didn’t. Because even if Tommy was hurt too, it was Tommy who did some of the hurting. Tommy, who was worth so much more to Barker. And his Will–God, Will–

Brian gasps for breath. He braces himself against his thighs. 

“Sir–” 

“Will is just as strong as Tommy! He–he–” 

Agent Hevener moves discreetly into the chair next to Brian’s. She puts a gentle hand on his knee. “I’m sure he is, Mr. Cartwright. He would have to be to survive the things he’s been through.” 

“He’s a good boy. This isn’t his fault! I–” 

“We know. There is nothing Will did to deserve any of this.”  

“Then why–” 

Why was it Will? That’s what Brian wants to ask, but he knows that he can’t. There is no possible answer that will ever make any of this make sense. 

Agent Hevener seems to understand. “I don’t know, Mr. Cartwright. I’ve been doing this a very long time, and I still don’t know. But if I may–” 

Brian nods, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“He survived, sir. He’s coming home. And that’s worth celebrating, even if we don’t know exactly what it will bring.” 

They sit in silence for a while. Brian knows she’s right, that it’s a good thing that Will’s on his way home. But somehow, the warnings, the preparation, the fucking anticipation of waiting to see his child after nearly a year–it doesn’t feel quite the way he thought it might. What was it that song said? The waiting is the hardest part? That’s bullshit. Somehow, Brian knows it’s going to be the end of the waiting— the seeing, the knowing— that will kill him. 

Agent Hevener’s phone buzzes. “They’ll be here directly. The reception staff in emergency is prepped; they’re the only ones who know he’s coming.The ambulance won’t have any lights or sirens. No one will know he’s arrived until we break the story.”

“When can I see him?” Brian asks without hesitation. 

“I can’t answer that. But we’ll keep you here. This waiting room is a little further removed, and we can control who comes in and how you get out. Agent Derringer says there’s a good chance that Will may need to be prepped for emergency surgery–” 

“For what?” Brian interrupts.

He can hear the desperation in his question, but he doesn’t care. The answer doesn’t even really matter–it won’t change anything–but he’s suddenly greedy for knowledge of his son, how he’s feeling, what’s wrong, what will come next. He imagines Will in the back of the ambulance. Just now, in Brian’s head, Will is still a little boy. The broken young man in those videos—he isn’t real. Brian doesn’t know how to help the person in the videos; but he can help his little boy. He failed at that once, but he won’t now. He won’t.

Agent Hevener’s voice shakes him out of his reverie. “I don’t know, sir. But–” 

“--please! I just–I won’t get in their way. I just want to see my son.” 

He does, but he doesn’t. Once he sees, Will can’t ever be his little boy again. But goddamnit, Brian has to see him anyway. Has to touch his face or hold his hand or whatever it is people do. Brian has to let Will know that he will be there, even if he’s never fucking been there before. 

Agent Hevener looks down at her phone again and then at Brian. She doesn’t say anything. 

“Please, ma’am.”

“Mr. Cartwright, I don’t think you understand–” 

Brian shakes his head. “I don’t think you understand.” His voice is quiet; this isn’t a soap opera, and on some level, he knows this woman is just doing her job. But he won’t back down. Not this time. “He is my son. I haven’t seen him in a year–and what I have seen has–God, I can’t–someone hurt my boy. They hurt him so badly. I don’t care if you think I’m not ready–it doesn’t matter if I’m ready. I have to be. I have to be there for him, even if–even if he doesn’t know it for a while, Fuck, I–”

Agent Hevener holds up her hand as if to stop him, and for just a second, Brian’s ready to rip her hand right off. But she looks up from her phone, and her mouth presses into a thin line, and Brian knows. 

“He’s here?” 

Agent Hevener nods. “If you come with me—”

“Whatever you say. I’ll do whatever you say,” Brian says instantly. 

“He’ll be in the emergency treatment area until a doctor is able to fully examine him. You can be in the treatment room, but you cannot get in the way. If they need to move him–” 

“I understand. I understand.” 

“Good.” Agent Hevener stands and smooths her pantsuit. She looks back at Brian and he thinks he can see sympathy in her eyes. “Remember what I told you: it won’t be what you expect, Mr. Cartwright.” 

Not might. Won’t. 

“I understand,” Brian says again. 

“Then, let’s go.” 

Brian follows the agent like a puppy, keeping his eyes on the lacquered hunk of her bun, which doesn’t move at all as they weave through the hospital hallways. It’s somehow too quiet back here, but Brian understands. The agents have taken control; every few corridors, there is a faceless person in a suit standing by. They are doing their best to protect Will. It’s more than Brian’s ever done. 

“Here, Mr. Cartwright,” Agent Hevener says finally. 

They’re in a nondescript hallway, all washed out neutrals and pastel hospital curtains. Agent Hevener quickly ushers Brian behind one of them. 

Will isn’t here yet. Brian stares at the empty hospital bed, willing himself not to picture Will inside of it. The monitors are dark, cords dangling listlessly, and the whole room has an antiseptic smell that Brian understands but wishes were different. This is not a homecoming. This is not what Will deserves. But then, Will has never gotten anything he deserves; Brian and the entire fucking universe have pretty much made sure of that. 

Brian looks around, unsure of what to do or where to stand or precisely how to handle this particular moment in any way, shape, or form. Agent Hevener glances down at her phone again. Brian presses himself against the tall storage cabinets in the corner of the room. He has to stay out of the way. He will stay out of the way. As long as he can see Will. 

Then, the silence is broken. 

A gurney pushes inside the curtain, flanked by four different uniformed paramedics. One of them rattles off information to a nurse in pink scrubs, and even though Brian can’t understand a word he’s saying, the nurse seems to know; she takes feverish notes on a metal clipboard, and the gurney is shoved backward to the side of the bed opposite Brian’s corner. 

And there’s Will. 

Suddenly, Brian is in a different hospital room. Casey’s hand is wrapped around his, squeezing his bones with some kind of wild mutant strength he didn’t know she possessed. She isn’t screaming like in the movies. No, the noises coming from between her grit teeth are far more primal. 

Brian can’t blame her. He tried to stand next to the doctor to watch the baby come, but one look told him that he wasn’t prepared for that nature documentary in the making; the nurse must have agreed, because she told him in no uncertain terms that no one would be helping Brian if he fainted.  

Casey’s grip somehow manages to tighten. An animal grunt. Brian lets go of her hand, and someone guides him through snipping the gummy cord that stretches from Casey’s body. At the end of the cord is his baby. Slimy and gray and impossibly small. Whisps of dark hair on a blood-tacky scalp. Scrunched eyes like white beans. Tiny fingers and toes. Tiny. Just so tiny. 

It’s a boy! Congratulations, Dad! 

But even with all the commotion, it is too quiet. The baby is too still. 

Why isn’t he crying? Casey asks, even as one of the nurses continues to maneuver between her raised legs. She is angry; Brian never quite knows what to do when she’s angry. 

A nurse has the baby–their son–and she pivots away from Casey’s bed. Brian can’t see what she’s doing. He feels like he’s frozen in amber. 

He’s supposed to cry, Casey says, her voice tight and breathless. Why isn’t he crying? What’s wrong with him? 

Nothing, Brian thinks. There’s a spark of annoyance that Casey is already looking for the cracks in the facade, and their son isn’t even a minute old. The baby is beautiful, even if he isn’t really beautiful at all. He is theirs. Brian knows that he’s being unreasonable, that Casey is just concerned, but still–

Brian! 

Terror washes over Brian. His scalp prickles with sweat, and he can’t look at his wife. He can’t watch the nurse with the baby. He can’t move. 

There’s a crib at home. A changing table with a weird embroidered pad. Blue walls. A mobile with cartoon animals. A chestful of tiny clothes. They’re prepared. But Brian never thought to prepare for this. 

The silence crawls on for what feels like years, and then, a fragile cry, so small and strange that it brings tears to Brian’s eyes, cuts through the air. 

Casey is gone, and the boy on the gurney is so much bigger than the baby Brian held in his arms, but that sound is embedded in Brian’s sense memory. He’s heard it in his dreams since Will disappeared, and even though it goes through him like a knife, he leans into the pain. It means Will is okay.That things progress as they should. And Brian wants nothing more than for that to be true. 

The nurse and paramedics are still going back and forth, but Brian can’t really hear them. He can only look at his son. He takes an unconscious step forward, and nobody stops him. 

Will may be grown, but somehow, he has never looked quite so small. Brian can hear Casey’s voice. What’s wrong with him? 

Everything. Brian shakes his head, and his hand moves to his mouth as if pulled by puppet strings. Everything is wrong. 

The smell is overpowering. Urine and shit and sweat and blood and who knows what else; the filth on Will’s sallow face is caked on, an unsettling streaky brown. Dried blood clings to the corner of his lips and the underside of his nose. His dark hair hangs around his shoulders in thin, greasy clumps, and his cheeks are dusted with patchy suggestions of beard; there are smatterings of white hair in both. When hands shunt Will’s slack body from the gurney to the bed, his mouth doesn’t move. Brian’s gut lurches when he realizes that Will’s jaw is still wired shut. 

But even with the commotion around him, Will doesn’t stir. His gaunt body seems to sink into the white sheets on the bed. Even under the space blanket they’ve wrapped him in, Brian can see how Will’s bones swell where there used to be flesh, how skeletal his arms are, the way his head lolls on a neck that is too long and thin for the body Brian could have sworn he knew. Will’s neck is collared, of course. Brian saw that in the videos, but this close, he can smell the reek of infection beneath the electrical box. Brian thought he was ready. He thought he knew. 

He didn’t know anything. 

The space blanket is peeled away, and Will’s body–what’s left of it–is exposed beneath the harsh exam room lights. Brian only just catches himself against the wall. 

“Mr. Cartwright–” 

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Just don’t.” 

And then he looks away, because he thinks he might collapse if he doesn’t. 

It isn’t that he can count Will’s ribs like ladder rungs or the way that his hip bones jut into space. It isn’t the chunky leather mitts where Will’s hands should be. It isn’t even the smears of blood between Will’s bony thighs; Brian can’t even begin to process that little tidbit. 

No, it’s that every inch of Will’s skin is marked. Veins of raised silver curve and snake from Will’s collarbones to the tops of his feet; there is more scar tissue than there is filthy skin, or at least it looks that way to Brian. Whorls and curlicues and precise lines that were all laid down on his son’s withering flesh with careful intention. 

Brian doesn’t have to stare to know that this DeAngelis monster spent his months with Will treating him like carving wood. The fucker bought Brian’s child just to ruin him. The patterns are deliberate, cruel–and they are permanent. Brian closes his eyes, and he can see Will’s little pink body wrapped in the striped hospital blanket; he can see the soft white neck peeking out from those rumpled Ninja Turtle sweats; he can see the boy who was almost a man, desperately uncomfortable in his own skin. 

You don’t get it, Dad. I’m just–I’m not what she wants. 

Brian got it. He understood better than Will knew what it was to feel lost, to measure yourself and constantly be found wanting. But this, Brian will never get. He will never understand this kind of cruelty, and he will never understand what Will is feeling, not ever again. How could he possibly? 

But even so, even though his mind and body are buried beneath layers of incomprehensible pain, Will is still the most beautiful thing that Brian’s ever seen. Because he is here. Because he is real. Because he is all that matters. He is all that’s ever mattered. 

Agent Hevener’s hand is firm on Brian’s shoulder. “Mr. Cartwright?”

“Can I–” Brian watches as the nurse begins to hook Will up to the various monitors, manipulating his thin arms as easily as a doll’s. Brian’s throat aches, but he doesn’t bother to try to stop his tears from falling. “Can I touch him?” 

“I’m not sure that–” 

“Please. The doctor–there isn’t a doctor yet. Just until they come. I won’t–I’ll be careful. Please.” 

Agent Hevener sighs, but her grip relaxes, just a little; it’s answer enough for Brian. 

Somewhere in the space of the last few minutes, someone has cut the mitts from Will’s hands. His fingers are gnarled bones, barely fingers at all, and the backs of his hands are scarred, just like the rest of him. When the nurse moves out of the way, Brian eases into the space next to the bed. He reaches over the plastic strut of the bedside, and he touches trembling fingers to Will’s wrist. He can feel a rigid line of scar tissue beneath his fingertips, and he lets out a kind of wet gasp. 

Will is too quiet, too still. But he is real. He is here. Maybe this isn’t the reunion Brian pictured, if he ever let himself picture this moment at all, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. 

“Mr. Cartwright–” 

“No,” Brian snarls. They will not take his boy again. “No,” he says, softly this time. He wraps his hand around Will’s curled fingers and exhales, breath shaking. “Bud?” Brian leans close and presses his lips to his son’s soiled forehead. “Bud, I’m so glad you’re home.” 

It’s stupid. Will doesn’t hear, and even if he did, he couldn’t answer. His ruined fingers don’t move; his breath barely lifts the battered plane of his chest. But Brian doesn’t care. He will wait until he hears the fragile cry that will let him know his boy is still in there; that someday, somehow, Will will be okay. 

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[random-meme-bot]

Special Halloween Post (AKA "I talk about one of my favorite games that just so happened to be slightly Halloween related")

Sorry for the wait, I'm ready to take you now.

Where? On the Four year journey of the soul, of course.

Im Random-Meme-Bot and tonight I will be your travel agent, so, prepare yourself and please, relax because tonight we won't be dancing a "Cheerfull Tango", but more of a:

[I will try to keep this as Spoiler free as posible, but since it's imposible to talk about a piece of media without spoiling some of it, the only part's I will be covering are the ones that the Manual tells you about (These come in the form of locations and plot points that I will try to make as subtle as posible to keep the surprise)]

Wellcome to "The land of the Dead".

Im sure you have many questions right now, like "Where am I?" "Wasn't I supused to go to heven/hell?" and of course the always classic "Journey‽" & "Travel agent‽".

Well...

You see, death isn't as simple as TV shows try to make it look, there is no "Heaven" nor "Hell", once someone dies (AKA: You) their soul it's brought to the "Land of the Death" by a Reaper of the Departmen Of Death [D.O.D] (AKA: Me), here you will have to embark on a 4 year journey to the 9th underworld, the land of eternal rest, I can't lie to you, it will be hard and dangerous.

Unless...

There is a way to make your journey easier, you only have to buy a travel packet from us with the money you were buried with, or if you were really a good person on life, you coud even get a ticket to the number 9, our deluxe express train, "To the land of the eternal rest in 4 minutes instead of 4 years".

Let me check your archive...

Hmm... it seems that your only avaliable option is our cheepest one, "The Excelsior Line"

What's this you say? That you were a saint in life and you deserve something better than a cane with a compass?

Don't be silly, if that were the case it woud apear in our records, or are you perhaps implying that the D.O.D steals their clients packages for profit?

I will let that slide for now, and continue as It seems I'll have to show you the locations that you will be traveling through.

A Dead aesthetic for a Dead World.

On your journey you'll experience the many wonders that this land has to offer, all of them presented on a beautyfull "Art Deco" arquitecture mixed with the Aztec roots of this world.

Your first stop is the Capital of the Land of The Dead, "El Marrow" were the D.O.D offices are located, full of souls that have abandoned their journey or just work in hopes of some day being able to afford a better travel package, today is "Dia de Muertos" so, why don't stop and enjoy the festivities?

The Main Entrance of the D.O.D [It was so expensive that the year it was build we didn't get any bonuses, so you better enjoy it]

The Carnival of the "Dia de Muertos" on the main street [Go on and get some "Bread of the Death" I think you deserve it]

When I said the compass on the Excelsior cane™ was gonna come in handy I wasn't liying, you will be needing it if you plan on entering our next destination, "The Petrified Forest", the most Dangerous part of your Jorney* a labyrinth of caves and branching paths full of creatures so deadly it woud scare even the toughest Australian fauna.

*Due to the worring rise of "sprouted" souls this may not stand true, the D.O.D is not held responsible for any close to 2º Death encounters you may have.

Say Goodbye to "El Marrow" [Because you might never see it again]

Don't worry if you lose the compast, there are signs to guide you [Please stop stealing the Sign Posts, It's the third one this week]

Our Final location on the tour is Rubacava, "The City that never Dies". You better get accustomed to it, because here is were you will have to board a ship to the other Edge of the World, and there's only one a year so chances are you will have to prolong your stay here.

"The Blue Casket", a night club were a lot of ""diferent"" poets hang out and pass the time [If the "Dead Poets Society" isn't your thing, I've heard a new Café is opening soon...]

"The Feline Meadows", the biggest gambling establishment in all land of the death [Just don't gamble your death away, ok?]

Let's customize your package to your liking.

Are you by any chance a native speaker of any of these languajes?

English, Français, Italiano, Español, Português, Deutsch.

Then you my friend are in luck because, you will be able to experience your journey entirely in your native tonge, and at no extra cost too!

Our original version of the "Grim Fandango" travel package was starting to show it's age so we "Remastered" it. Giving it better textures and lightning as well as better controls, and the ability to not randomly corrupt your safe file [We only want the best for our clients] and if you're the nostalgic type you can change to the OG graphics with only the press of a button, want to know more about the creation of "Grim Fandango" then you might be interested on the Concept art gallery and Directors commentary.

Enjoy the trip, & who knows maybe you'll be back next year...

So now you are ready to experince "Grim Fandango". "An Epic tale of Crime and Corruption in The Land of The Dead", as our marketing team calls it.

Why didn't I brought up the narative earlier?

Well, because "Dead men tell no tales".

Grim Fandango remastered is avaliable on:

PC/PS4/PSVita/XBoxOne/IOS Android (Is not longer avaliable on the Play Store so only as APK)

[taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me]

Heven

The past couple of days have been quite unexpected. To get some pece and quite Euphemia and Fleamont went away to visit some friend of theirs, leaving the kids alone. James was the one incharge, but everyone knew it was actually Lily.

They all were having fun, going out at night, coming back late and then waking up with a percing headache. While Regulus and Y/N had their own type of fun. Every night, when everyone went out, they went on their own adventure.

Sometimes it was bringing up, what the muggles called a TV to their room and watching movies. And sometimes it was leaving the house to go to the pool they had found, not so far from home.

That pool was their safe haven. They could talk about anything there, do anything there. There was no one to tell them what was right or what was wrong. It was them, the water and the lust they felt for each others body.

As of now, all the 7th years were sleeping, while Regulus and Y/N were in the scorching sun, swimming. While wandering around they stumbled upon the place they now call their own little getaway.

Regulus had claimed the ledge at the end of the pool. That was where the sunlight generally came and reflected in the water, where he read. He called that place heven.

"Are you in heven?" Questioned Y/N, sitting on the other side of the pool with just her legs in.

"Yes." Regulus replied, laying down with one foot in the water.

"Are you enjoying it?"

"Yes." He replied again.

"Are you enjoying this trip?"

"Hmm."

"What does that mean?" Y/N asked again.

"That means hmm..." Regulus answered.

Y/N looked at him for a few seconds, not understanding her answer. She wanted to know whether he was liking it here, liking her. But if he kept answering like this, nothing would come out of this.

"What's your favorite part of the house?" She asked once more.

"I don't know." He answered.

A few more seconds pass, "What's your least favorite part of the house?"

"I don't know." Regukus said looking over his glasses to see Y/N nod her head, thinking of thr next question to ask.

"What's your least favorite part of the trip so far?"

"This interrogation."

That made her shut up. She looked up to find him looking at her, his glasses now off and the book closed.

"What's up?" He asked.

"Nothing." Y/N shrugged. "Why?"

"You never generally ask me a lot of things. You just accompany me here and stay quite, only speaking when something horrible happens in thw boom you're reading."

"I-i, I just wanted to ask you things." Y/N stammered.

Regulus now got up from heaven and walked over to the beach chair Y/N was sitting on. He sat near her legs, at thw loot if the chair. Y/N was not looking at him, which he found ood.

"Y/N, tell me what's up?" He asked again, slowly this time.

After a few minutes of silence, Y/N finally got the courage to say -

"Do you like me?"

"What?" Confusion was clear on his face.

"Do you like me? As a friend, or maybe something more?" Embarrassment now took over hers.

"What? You think I like you?"

"Oh fuck." Mega embarrassment.

"Oh darling, I worship you."

With that he grabbed hold of her face and crashed his lips into hers. It took her sometime to respond, but when she did, it was with equal passion.

He mover closer and closer, and she took him in more and more. There mouths were intertwined with each others. His hands were on her waist and hers were on his shoulders. Soon enough, Regulus puller her down and was now on top of her, still devouring her mouth.

Se pulled away to get some breath while his attack continued on her neck. A few moments later she said "I take this as a yes."

Making him laughter against her skin, giving back to her mouth, just to whisper "Oh fuck yeah."

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

The rest of the day was spent with the kissing.

This was the stat of something new, something great, something tragic, something magic, near the pool.

@lendeluxe @mostycool @s-we-e-t-t-ea @allise4 @ogstark @kazbekkarluvbot @alexandra-001 @itsamusical4life

[yosoyawriting]

From Dust We Rise

Chapter Two

I awake to see a small frail lady standing over me. 

"Your Highness," she says, bowing to me. As she straightens her posture, the light from the sunrise highlights the artificial grin that's plastered onto her face. "My name is Aline and I have come to prepare you for your special day." There is a grimace hiding behind her smile. The rotten smell is still lingering in my room.

My special day. My wedding day. When I was around seven years old and was just locked away, I would spend my day reading old tales of princes and knights sweeping a lady off her feet and carrying her away to a land where they could live in peace together. I wished to be that lucky lady. I was a princess, after all, an obvious prize for a noble man, so every morning and every evening I would pray for a brave man to come and save me by making me his bride.

I can't remember how old I was when I stopped saying that ridiculous prayer.

I stand up and try to stretch but my vision becomes blotchy and my legs stumble. The maid grabs onto my arms and steadies me. 

"I need...I need medicinal tea." My headache is a lot worse than I thought it would be.

Massaging my head I add, "one for headaches and put a dash of Luksul in it." According to Heven's Manuscript, a guide for healers, Luksul is a common weed found in Yakasu. It gives a bit of energy when consumed in tea and it also aids in calming the nerves. It is considered a miracle herb.

"Yes, Your Highness," she replies, "I'll have someone bring it to you right away but please let us first leave this room." The maid's voice is strained but she tries to have some composure. 

Also wanting to leave quickly as possible, I allow her to usher me out of the room. The maid slams the door behind us and breathes a sigh of relief. I straighten my posture and turn and look at her with a raised eyebrow.

Realizing what she had done she whispers "my apologies, Your Highness." She then gestures for me to take the lead in walking down the corridor. 

In my hall, there are only several doors and they are all along one side. The closest one to my bedroom was my bath chamber where I am only allowed to bathe myself using one bucket of water. A door down is my library which is only open during the day. Reading at night is prohibited for the risk of me setting fire to valuable texts by lighting candles too close to the fragile parchment. The following three rooms down are the chambers of my maids, manservants, and guards. The last room that was the farthest away from mine, was the kitchen, the place where flavor is considered unholy. 

And at the end of the hall, there is a great door the color of blood with golden eagle heads mounted onto the door. Every time I walk through the corridor heading to the bath chamber or my mediocre library I would always avoid looking at the door. The eyes of eagles always sent shivers down my back. I cried the first time I saw it.

Now on my path that is promising me a chance of freedom, this door is the one I must pass through. 

I walk past the chambers slower than I thought I would. Yesterday my heart danced with joy each time the thought of the future came to mind. But now that my chains might now finally break, I am…hesitant? 

Each step I take it feels as if my restraints are getting tighter. My knees feel weaker and my headache grows stronger. My posture is now suffering and my feet drag along the floor. 

I reach out to Aline for support but a new body grabs hold of my waist and steadies me. 

"My apologies, my lady," says a young voice,  "the barrier has not yet been dissolved. We were not made aware that you were leaving at this moment."

 My head shoots up to look at the young man. He was not made aware? How was he not? And that was not the most intriguing thing he said. He bows to me waiting for my approval to rise. Though I'm still recovering from the shock of realizing how trapped I truly was for all those years, I tell him to rise. "What is your name," I ask.

"Sir Riueth, my lady."

"A barrier? You said there was a barrier? Where is it?"

The man dressed in armor carrying the Yakasu symbol replies politely, "yes, Your Highness, there is a barrier. It is on the door you see." He lets go of me and walks up to the door and knocks on it making pearly dust appear. 

I am in awe. I have never witnessed any form of magic before but I had dreamed of it, imagining what it looked like from descriptions in enchanted books. I once attempted to wield it but could not even conjure up a wisp of smoke. And now there's beautiful pearly dust in front of me dancing around in the air before disappearing.

Aline appears at my side and places her hand firmly on my forearm. "I am deeply sorry, Your Highness, I thought they would have got rid of the barrier in light of the upcoming event today." Her eyes are void of any actual emotion. "I should have checked beforehand. Please forgive my negligence." She bows her head and I am left staring at her balding scalp. She begins to cough.

I ignore her coughing fit and look toward the guard and ask, "what is the barrier for?" 

"It's to keep you safe, my lady," I glare at him, but the polite smile on his face does not waver. "As well as to keep you from leaving, my lady." He lowers his voice– his tone no longer pleasant, "you know your father would never want you to leave, well until today." 

A chill runs through my body though I no longer feel a sense of dread. Aline's cough gets louder, sounding horribly painful but I still do not turn to her. The guard knocks on the door again but this time no magic dust appears. The barrier is gone.

He then gives a firm push on the door and it swings open revealing a sight to me that I have not seen in thirteen long years.

Before me is a magnificent courtyard with a glorious pistache tree plant in the middle and a well-kept stone path leading around it. Its red leaves beautifully capture the light of the sunrise, shining a strong crimson color.

To the far left of the courtyard was a gorgeous fountain. A golden eagle about to ascend into the sky is wonderfully crafted as the centerpiece, water spraying out from all around it. To the far right of the courtyard rows of red flowers grow in large pots as well as along the wall.

It was all so beautiful and well designed but for what purpose? The scenery was surely not for me to enjoy. Did the servants come out here to get a breath of air and space from me?

I look at Aline who has tears in her eyes from all of her coughing. Did she ever come here to take a little break? Rude Aline?

I take a breath and begin to walk through the courtyard, my eyes focusing on the auburn double doors across from me. I can feel Aline following and without breaking my gaze or stride, I hold up my hand.

"I am free now, am I not?"

"Uh, yes, Your Highness, but–."

"So I do not need to be shackled to you."

"But, my lady, I'm supposed to help!"

"I do not need you. I may not have been roaming the halls of the castle in recent years," my footsteps echo loudly on the stone ground, "but I am well aware that there are plenty of maids who can help me prepare."

I reach the doors and ignoring my rising anxiety and golden bear heads carved on the door, I knock twice. No magical dust appears this time instead the doors swing open in an instance revealing men clad in golden and red armor.

I fold my hands and tilt my chin a little higher. "Your Highness," they speak in unionism all respectfully bowing at the waist.

"Rise," I say, my voice clear.

They rise and one who appears to be the leader speaks, " My lady," he has kind eyes, "we were not expecting you for another three hours. Is there something wrong?"

Them too? What was Aline trying to do?

"So I have heard," I reply. " With that being said I request several maids to help me prepare and–," I point to Aline, "punished for her incompetence."

Aline's eyes widen in fear, " Please! Your Highness, I-!"

"Sir Riueth can inform you of the earlier events," I say ignoring her pleas. "King Tansei has made me aware that there is a chamber for me. Would you be so kind as to escort me to it?"

[feliciohno]

could i perhaps request itapan with the soulmate au 2 ??👀

First words your soulmate says to you are tattooed on your wrist (Send me a ship and a prompt)

“こんにちは, I am Japan.” 

It was so rare for nations to develop soulmates. Where for humans everyone had them, that wasn’t the case for the strange beings that walked the earth beside them. Soulmates worked much differently for nations in ways that most of them didn’t fully understand yet. For some of them, a new line would appear at random. Sometimes they’d be lucky enough to meet the human it corresponded with. But then, when they inevitably passed, the mark would fade away as if it were never there. No indication that they had ever had a soulmate in the first place. It was a sorrowful experience, to say the least. Most of them tended to try and avoid any soulmates they might develop over the years. 

But Italy was different. One night, he had a dream. It was a strange dream that he didn’t quite understand at such a young age. In it was a boy a little older than him. He looked just as lost as Italy felt as if he wasn’t even sure why he was in the other’s dream in the first place. Despite that, he introduced himself as Japan. After Italy woke up, he had a soulmark. 

He had shown Ms. Hungary the mark and she could only respond with a pitying look. She just patted his hair and told him to ignore it. It would be better that way. 

So he did. For years he practically forgot it was even there. It wasn’t till he spoke with France that he remembered it. 

Italy and France often held conversations, they were quite close after all. Especially after Italy had gained his independence it was nice to still have someone to go to. He knew he could still go to Austria and Hungary but it just wasn’t the same. 

“Another soulmark, another life span.” France let out a sigh as he looked at his wrist. 

Italy took a bite of the pastry laid before him as he watched the other. “Another?” he questioned as he swallowed his food. 

France leaned back in his chair and gave Italy an almost sad smile. “They happen all the time to me. What can I say, my heart just can’t stand being alone I suppose. But,” he gave another sigh. “It’s always the same. They fade after a number of years and another just relaces it soon after.” 

“Don’t you want to meet them?” 

France only gave a halfhearted chuckle. “If Big Brother was to chase after every soulmate he had I don’t think my heart could handle it every time.” He then leaned in closer to the other and gave him a wink. “Besides, between you and me I think England is finally starting to come around to me, no? I knew he couldn’t resist my charms.” 

Italy smiled at that comment. Happy to see France’s mood come back around. However, the conversation, as brief as it was, stayed in his mind the rest of the day. When he got back home he inspected his own mark. How long had it been there? Humans don’t live that long, even he knew that. 

Gently, he ran his fingers over the mark. The handwriting was beautiful. He wondered if his soulmate always wrote like that. He didn’t recognize the characters in the first half but it was clearly Asian. Did his soulmate live somewhere there? It didn’t make sense. There was no way they could still be alive. Italy frowned and pulled his sleeve back over the mark only to forget about it for another odd number of years. 

The first time he heard the name Japan it was in passing. One of his humans was talking to another on the streets of Venice when he overheard their conversation. The name felt familiar somehow. The ladies were talking about it like a location. Was it someone like him? Was that why it sounded familiar? He never paid much mind to world affairs. Why should he? Italy just spent his days cooking and painting. As it should be. Why get mixed up in the trouble of other nations. He only did what his boss told him to and then nothing more. Maybe it was a bit lonely that way but in his opinion,he was better off. He still talked to France sometimes, and Austria and Hungary visited every few years. He was fine alone. Didn’t matter to him one bit. 

He wasn’t alone much longer. He got shoved into the front lines of a war he wanted no part in. He blamed his boss. Who else could he blame? He hated fighting. He just wanted to go back home to his warm bed and stocked kitchen. Instead he found himself stuck hiding in a tomato box. Anything to get people to leave him alone. He didn’t want to be shot at! Whether the bullets could actually kill him or not had nothing on the fact that they still hurt like a bitch. 

Sadly, the safety of his hiding place was quickly compromised. It wasn’t too hard to convince the other not to kill him. It turned out to be one of his kind anyways. A man named Germany. Wasn’t that who he was fighting? He didn’t actually know. What he did know was that being a prisoner wasn’t actually that bad. No more fighting, he got to lay around and eat food (albeit, it wasn’t pasta but it didn’t out right suck), there were pretty ladies to chat up (though they could be just as scary as Mr. Germany on some occasions) and where there wasn’t much he could do creative wise it still kept him out of trouble. 

He, eventually, actually became friends with Germany. He learned some things about the other. For one, he was much younger than Italy, he liked dogs over cats, and he was a hardass when it came to training. All in all it wasn’t that bad making friends with someone. However, while hanging around the other he often heard a name being thrown around. Japan. Hearing the German talk about him only confirmed Italy’s suspicions years prior of it being one of them. Everytime he heard the name he felt this strange tug somewhere inside him. He wasn’t quiet sure why but he tried to ignore it. 

At some point Germany made a time to introduce the two. If he was friends with Germany than this Japan couldn’t be that bad. Italy really coudln’t care about the whole alliance thing, if he was honest with himself he was actually having a nice time just making friends. He had even reformed his relationship with Austria recently. It was nice to have people in his life. 

Japan was, admittedly, very cute. His short black hair framing his face and those soft dark eyes. Italy was already making plans to invite the other back to his place later. However, he couldn’t put his finger on why but something was all too familiar about the other. He was almost sure they had never met so why did he get such a feeling from him? 

It wasn’t until the other introduced himself that it clicked. 

“こんにちは, I am Japan,” he said with a bow. 

Italy stood there, dumbfounded for a moment. He could feel the strange tingling sensation at his wrist right whee he knew the words were edged into his skin. 

What was he supposed to say to that? Was he supposed to should to the high hevens that he had found his soulmate? Did he forgo words completely and just grab the other into an embrace? He supposed, his first words didn’t matter all that much. Whatever they were, they were already scrawled into the other’s skin. They had to be. That was how this worked. So, instead, Italy only smiled warmly at the other. 

“Ciao! I’m Italy.” 

Japan quickly looked up at the other. When their eyes met Italy could see the spark of realization in the other. It only caused him to smile wider. 

They waited till after Germany left to talk about any of it. And so, Italy was forced to sit and listen to their boring alliance discussions. He was sure this was all important information that his boss would want him to relay but he couldn’t fous on that! He’d just met his soulmate! Not that Italy was really looking very hard for him, in his defence of course he either thought it was a human and not worth the heartache, or he just flat out forgot about it. Not his fault. 

When Germany did finally go home Italy stayed behind, saying that he would catch his own ride home. Once the other was out of eye shot Italy scooted up close to Japan’s side. 

“You have it too, si?” 

Japan looked up at him, surprised to see the other so close. His face heated up some. “I assume you mean this,” he replied as he pulled his sleeve up just enough to show Italy his wrist. Just as he suspected, on the skin was Italy’s very words. 

Italy smiled at him. He gently ran his fingers over Japan’s mark. “We must be really special.” 

Japan looked from the mark to the other with a questioning brow. 

Italy returned his gaze. “For us to have these. It must really be special!” 

Japan smiled softly at the other. “Yes, I suppose it must be.” 

Italy moved his hands from Japan’s wrist up to his face and pulled him into a kiss. The sparks the came from their lips meeting, Italy felt them in his very core. As if the words on his wrist were somehow also written on his heart. 

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard - 33

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2513

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Synopsis: The twins are now three and while the Avengers know that Clint and Thor are the biological father’s none of them know or care which blond, blue-eyed baby is related to which man.  When Riley gets the power to control wind and it becomes evident that she is the heir to the Asgardian throne, Elly, Steve, Thor, and Tony take the twins to Asgard to train her.

Not every Asgardian is happy with their king’s choice of consort, nor the impurity of the heir’s blood.  While others expect Thor to make things more official.  What’s clear is, the role of Queen of Asgard is not easily filled.

Author’s Note:  Written with @fanficwriter013​

Chapter 33: The Battle for Asgard

We came to on the ground.  The ropes that bound us were still partially in place like there had been an attempt to remove them but it had been interrupted.  Around us were the sounds of battle.  Metal hitting metal.  Bricks crumbling.  Shouting and cries of pain.  Our friends and the Asgardian guards were fighting an army of what looked like angels.  I couldn’t see the children anywhere but the threads that ran from me to them stretched off behind the throne with one that connected me to Loki.  Standing over us was a giant grey wolf.  It was snarling and attacking anyone that came near.

Steve reacted first, throwing up his arm like he had his shield to protect us from the wolf, forgetting that he didn’t actually have his shield here with him.

It didn’t matter.  A large shield of light, much like Sam’s wings, spread out over all over us.  Wanda’s powers glowed pink and the ropes and thread that bound us together disintegrated.

“It’s okay, Steve,” Bucky said, pulling himself to his feet.  “That’s Fenrir, he’s protecting us.”

Steve didn’t lower the shield, but he looked uncertainly at Bucky as he tried to push through the shield.

“Steve, seriously.  He’s fine.  I can… it’s like I can understand him,” Bucky said.

Steve looked around the group and nodded.  “Elise, suit up. Try and get to the kids.  The rest of you, get to a weapon if you need one.  Bruce, we might need Hulk in charge for this.  We need to shut this down.”

Bruce nodded and his body shifted.  Becoming larger and his face shape changing more as the Hulk took complete control.

I tapped the earrings and nanobots bled out of it forming my very own iron armor.  Overlaying the visor was a kind of head-up display that was analyzing everything that was happening around me.  “Hello, Elise.  I’m charged with getting you to safety.  You wanted to call me Synergy?”

“Yes, but… no… I have to help,” I said.  “I can’t just run.”

“That’s not what I was designed for,” Synergy replied.

“Cut the shit,” I snapped.  “I know Tony hasn’t just made me a run-away machine.  We’re fighting.”

“Yes, miss,” she said and the display changed slightly.  “Entering combat mode.  I am able to read micro-expressions.  Just move naturally.  I’ll keep up.”

Steve dropped the shield and everyone scattered.  Hulk charged into the fray, grabbing angels out of the air and throwing them.  Sam spread his wings and took off, kicking an angel in the face and stealing their sword.  Natasha disappeared but I could see the end of her thread running toward the throne where the babies were.  Clint ran out, and as he broke into the crowd, Fandrall called out to him and tossed him a bow, Clint changed his direction, heading toward Fandral, I assume to get the arrows to go with it.  Tony took off into the air and started blasting.   Bucky touched Fenrir’s side, and the wolf crouched and let him climb onto its back.  Steve ran grabbing the first thing he could find and throwing it at an attacker while Wanda took off into the air.  She stopped and looked up and the ceiling disappeared.  In the space above it, a large fleet of ships hovered.  Carol was currently locked in battle with them and Wanda took off towards her.  Thor called for Mjolnir and took off into the fray, casting lightning around him.

I leaned up and the suit took flight, I fell into synch with Tony and we began fighting back to back.

“The babies are okay?”  He asked as we did a combo move, spinning in the air as we blasted the angels around us.

“Yes.  Loki and Natasha are with them.  She’s cloaking them,” I said.

The angels seemed to keep getting distracted by Sam - who had now worked out he could literally throw shards of light out of his wings like a weapon.  They would stop fighting and watch him while talking to each other in their native tongue. 

“They think he’s one of them.  Like an important one,” Clint yelled up as he loosed an arrow, piercing an angel’s wing.

“Yeah, baby!”  Sam called back.  “I am an angel!”

We began to get an upper hand.  There were so many, but there were more of us and we had a large contingency with powers.  Mjolnir flew from one hand to the next.  Thor used her to slam into the ground taking out a swarm of angels that were trying to overwhelm him.  She flew to Natasha who used her to stealth strike some angels that were getting too close to the twins.  Then to Steve who dragged a bolt of lightning through the roof and took out a large group.  To me as I swung her, slamming her into someone’s face as I used an energy blast to take out another person.   She followed the path of the threads that connected us like she could feel them too and knew where she was needed.

Just as it looked like we were about to subdue the last of the angels there was a loud crash at the far end of the hall and a burst of black energy.  The red-headed woman strode into the room followed by what looked like a whole new army.  She was flanked by a man and a woman who were dressed differently to the others.  More regal.  I assumed they were the king and queen of Heven.

“Enough of this!”  She shouted and then spoke in what sounded like two completely different dialects.  “Surrender the throne!  I am the rightful heir.”

Thor flew up in front of the group and stood, squared up, not giving an inch.  “What rightful heir?  Why are you doing this?  We have no quarrel with your people.”

“But we have a quarrel with yours.  When your father conquered us.  We took your heir and now we will take the nine realms,” the man said and attacked Thor.  The army charged in and the woman who had attacked Riley and I led them.

“What did she say, Barton?”  Tony asked as he swooped around towards Clint who had been bailed up against the wall.  Tony and I took out his attackers and hovered near him while he caught his breath.

“Just that she was the firstborn child of Odin and it was her right to rule,” Clint said.

“Wasn’t the firstborn a son?”  I asked.

Loki appeared beside me, giving me what felt like ten simultaneous heart attacks.  “She has transitioned, fool.  I would have thought that concept wouldn’t be hard to understand.”

“Jesus, Loki,” I said.  “How did you sneak up on me when I’m fucking connected to you now?”

“You’re what?”  She asked.

“Connected.  That’s my power.  I see a thread between me and my family members.  I can feel them with it,” I say.  “I know where they are.”

Loki looked at me with her head tilted, like she was trying to process a great deal of information.  “There is a thread between you and I?”

“Yes.  Here,” I said, running my hand along it.

“Is there one between you and her?”  She asked.

I narrowed my eyes and watched the redhead locked in battle with T’Challa and several members of the Dora Milaje.  There was a small thread of light that ran from me to her.  It was faint and muddy and when I put my hand on it the feeling I got was confused and … wrong.  Like they were being muted by something else.

“Yes, there’s something.  It doesn’t feel right though.  Plus it’s faint,” I said.

“I wonder… there should be no need if they raised her, but a connection means she is family.  It’s not about blood because you have a connection with me.  They might have messed with her mind,” Loki suggested.

“You two work this out.  We’re gonna get back into it,” Tony said, grabbing Clint under the arms and taking off.

I put my hand on the thread that ran straight up into the air to Wanda and sent my thoughts out.  “Wanda!  We need you here.”

We continued fighting as Wanda floated back down through the ceiling and she turned and looked at the woman as he fought.  “Yes,” she said.  “Definitely mind control.  I need to get closer to do something about it.”

The three of us moved in and Wanda’s eyes began to glow.  Loki stepped up and began to fight the redhead pulling two long blades from the air and welding them with deadly proficiency.” 

“Sister, we need not fight.  Surrender to me and you may have the throne of Jotunheim as you were destined,” the woman practically purred.

“If I wanted the throne of a lonely ice planet I would take it.  Just as I took the one here.  I understand your cause, it’s a pity that you do not, sister,” Loki countered.

The thread got brighter and I called Mjolnir.  It changed direction mid-flight and flew into my hand.  I ran a current of electricity through the thread and it pierced the woman’s body.  Her eyes flared pink and blue as the electricity blending with Wanda’s powers and she screamed and dropped to the floor.

The fighting paused for a moment as everyone turned to see what was happening.  Wanda moved in closer putting her hands on the woman.  “Angela!”  The queen of Heven screamed running towards us followed by the king and several Heven warriors.  Thor called Mjolnir and she pulled free of my hand, flying into Thor’s.  He summoned a lightning bolt and slammed her into the ground.  It threw the entire army back, giving Wanda more time to work.

The pink light faded, and Wanda helped the Red Head to her feet.  The thread between us was brighter now.  Just as bright as between Loki and me.  She blinked slowly looking dazed and held up her hands and called out something in the language of Heven.

The angels all stopped fighting and dropped their weapons.  “People!”  She called again.  “I apologize.  The fight is over.”  She turned to Thor.  “Brother.  I apologize most to you.  If you must arrest me I shall go willingly.  I was not in my right mind.”

Thor approached her.   “Sif!”  He called.  “Take the king and queen to the dungeons.”

Sif gestured to some guards and they muscled the two rulers of Heven out of the throne room.

“Aldrif?”  Thor asked, extending his hand.

She winced and shook her head.  “That is my dead name.  It is Angela.”

“I apologize.  Angela,” he said, taking her hand.  As their skin touched his whole body stiffened and his eyes glowed a bright blue.  Everyone went straight to attack mode and stepped forward, but I held up my hand.  This was not her attacking him.

“Wait!”  I called.  “He is having a vision.”

When Thor came to again he shook his head and smiled a real genuine smile.  “I saw you, sister.  Sitting on the throne.  Ruling Asgard and the Nine Realms fairly and wisely.”

She shook her head.  “I couldn’t.  You are the king.  It is your place to rule.”

He clapped his hand on her arm and shook her head.  “Don’t you see… I don’t want it.  I have never wanted it.  I do it because there is no other choice.  If there were anyone else capable of the job I would let them have it.  I want to be with my family.  I want to raise my children.”

Loki rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything.  Angela looked around at the hall and up at the throne.  “I shall never bear any offspring.  You and your daughter will remain direct heirs to the throne.” 

Thor nodded and dropped to his knees before her.  “I am aware. I defer to you, sister.  You are the rightful heir.”

“Get up,” she said.  “You are not lesser than me, brother.  We are equals.  But if it is what you wish, and what your vision saw, I shall take the throne.”

“Good!”  He cheered getting back to his feet and pulling her into an embrace.  “We have much to organize. Many things to set right.”

“Yes, and I promise we shall,” Angela replied.  “But my people did you the disservice of attacking you during your bonding.  You should finish and make it official.”

Thor turned to Wanda.  “Can you fix this, my love?”

She looked around and nodded, her whole body became absorbed by the pink light of her powers and spread out.  Damage was undone, wounds healed.  When she settled back to the ground the only sign that we’d even been in battle was the foreign army in the throne room.

The armor on Tony and I retracted leaving us back in the clothes for the ceremony and we all moved up to the throne.   Bruce returned to that midway state where he was both Hulk and Bruce at the same time.  Natasha brought the children to us and as the room settled and people returned to their correct places, we passed the children between us, cuddling and kissing each of them.

When the room settled again the high priest moved forward again, still visibly shaken.

“Friends and loved ones, people of Asgard and the Nine Realms,” he announced.  “Our lovers have taken their journey and all have returned, stronger and knowing their place with each other.  They now bear the mark of their clan and that mark shall be branded to each, a visible symbol of the bond they share.”  He touched each of us in turn.  When he touched me a burning sensation seared the skin on my forearm.  I looked down at it and saw a symbol, it looked like part of a star over two connected circles.  One of the sides of the star was missing and instead, one line formed an arrow.  There was an M attached to one side.  Each line was traced in a different color, so you could see the element for each person.  Wanda’s M formed part of Sam’s symbol.  Clint’s arrow came off of Bucky’s star that sat on Steve’s shield.  One circle was half Tony’s arc and half the symbol for radiation symbolizing Bruce.  There was part of Mjolnir making up the star, as was Natasha’s widow mark.  Right in the center of the star was a v shape turning it into a heart.

“As above, so below,” he said, returning to his place on the platform.  “These ten people are bonded.  They will have this bond for the rest of their lives, sharing their highs and lows, protecting and caring for each other.  None shall come between it and it will not grow weak with time.  I present them to you now bound together as family.  They may now seal it with a kiss.” 

We smirked at each other and each person turned to the one closest.  For me that was Sam.  He pulled me into his arms and we kissed.

// NEXT

[housamodrabbles]

I Love the ask about MC being the vary same Shaytan that fell from heven so, I made this. I couldn’t make it with all 12 wings without it looking crappy😓

So my I ask another MC being Shaytan but! Reverse meaning Shaytan is reborn as MC with his memory as Shaytan is like a fare away dream to MC but has Shaytan memorys all the same. The Twist is that MC doesn’t remember there human life when they first woke.

So how would the gehenna boys and anyone who know Shayran would react MC being Shaytan especially for some who wanted to know the answer to why Shaytan rebelled against God.

Let’s say just for this ask that Shaytan is lik we MC in personality?

—

Ah, no need to worry, I too kind of question how the twelve wings is possible(I think some of them might be in Shaytan’s hair like that angel from the World Pillars group) but the fact that you made this really blows me away! I love it, I really really love it. I’m just really into the whole angel MC thing since I just love wings in general. The little halos over the hands are really nice touch.

Oh, and sorry about not answering the mermen one, it cut off and I had no idea what you wanted.

Bathym:

Bathym would, quite frankly, not really mind that you ended up being Shaytan, though he would have to ask himself why you look so different from your original form, and why your personality is so different from what it used to be. It probably wouldn’t take him long to suspect that you may have been reborn as someone else, which would confirm your feeling that although you have Shaytan’s memories, you really can’t call them yours.

Being who he is, he does ask you why you rebelled against God, when, all things considered, you should’ve been happier in Eden. When you said it was for freedom, to not be controlled by an all restricting god, Bathym would be laughing for days about it before being very proud of you.

To be fair, if he was in your shoes, Bathym is pretty sure he’d be sent down to Gehenna a lot faster than you would have, considering his lack in self-restraint. But, if he finds that the subject hurts you more than he initially thought, then he’ll clamp his mouth shut and mumble out his apologies.

Lucifuge:

(Did you know? I actually really love Lucifuge since I’m into the whole, “Powerful man brought down to his knees out of loyalty” type of thing.)

Lucifuge would definetly be confused, probably not believeing you to be Shaytan at first, but after spouting out some memories that only Shaytan should know, he’d freak out and kneel before you, apologizing for his rude behavior. He won’t mind the change in appearance and personality, since he believes it to be in Shaytan’s power to look like someone else. Someone has to point it out to him that Shaytan can’t do that, and only then does he suspect you may have been reborn before, which would confirm why he couldn’t feel the same light from you.

He always felt he never had the authority to ask why you rebelled against God, that and he doesn’t want to seem like he’ll be doubting his lord for their decision. However, when allowed, he will ask with the expectation that he’ll be put to death, which he’ll face. Lucifuge is suprisingly somber when you told him about your want for freedom, even though you knew you would lose from the start.

Even though he wasn’t in the position to do so, he give you words of comfort, reassuring you that rebelling was the best thing for yourself, and although you were cast out of Eden, you still made a home in Gehenna. And even after you were out of Gehenna, you still managed to find love in the places you wandered to. For all of his obliviousness, Lucifuge knows when to comfort.

Zabaniyya:

He’s rather welcoming to you, since he looks at you as just another fellow angel that was summoned here. However, when he finds evidence(your fighting style and weapon) it clicks with him that you’re Shaytan, but in a different body, and a different personality all together. He doesn’t tell anyone, since he feels he shouldn’t put the hatred the others feel for Shaytan on you.

It’s only when you reveal all of your memories that he’s left rather baffled, since you don’t look or act much like Shaytan, so it leaves him worried that you might have a temper due to past memories, but calms down when you reveal that although you have them, they don’t feel like yours.

He did have a suspecion of why you rebelled in the first place, but asked anyways behind closed doors. The answer did leave him quiet, reminded of his own position as the torturer. He ends up thanking you for rebelling when other could not. Unintentionally, you ended up helping him find his answer on how to deal with his problems. And although you may have been cast out of Eden, he feels it was for the better, since you can’t be yourself if you have to follow rules that compromise who you are.

Ko-fi

[megashadowdragon]

jaunes true color theme is  gold

“

jaunes inspiration is joan of arc and jaunes character theme is joan of arc who had heard voices from god and received messages from him and visions from him and followed gods will joan of arc was guided by the light of god to lead the French army though I doubt it so it would fit for jaune to have a connection to the god of light plus joan of arc was a saint and saints are a person who is recognized as having an exceptional degree of holiness or likeness to God.  and its said that the street of heven are paved with gold and its akin to the yellow brick road 

There’s the color you think he is, the color he lives up to, it’s a lot of stuff. -Monty in Forever Fall commentaries which implys that yellow which jaune means isnt his true color theme

and monty said jaunes color theme is different from the rest of his family and jaunes family symbol is the rainbow so its fitting if jaunes familys colors are the colors of the rainbow   . arc en ciel is french for rainbow 

and jaune has 7 sisters so its fitting if  jaunes seven sisters colors are the colors of the rainbow ( including yellow )  

 while  jaunes true color theme being different from the others  is  gold 

jaune is rubys foil 

hawkeyedflame . tumblr . com/post/152581160728/on-rubys-elusive-character-development-or-why

“ jaune is a foil To Ruby. She’s a prodigy who quickly became a deadly warrior at a young age and is welcomed into Beacon two years early as a result while Jaune is a hard worker who progresses slowly and had to lie his way into Beacon because of his nonexistent combat background. Ruby is a strategist specialized on pre-defined team attacks and wields a self-made weapon capable of long range combat. Jaune is a tactician specialized in creating new team attacks according to his analysis on the battlefield and wields a family heirloom only capable of close range combat. Ruby has a rather broken family but they fully support her decision to become a huntress while Jaune’s family is large and united but they don’t support his choices nor have any faith on him. Ruby is a tomboy who dominates the battlefield but doesn’t enjoy dancing whereas Jaune tends to act girly and is initially terrible at fighting but also a great dancer. The more you look into them as a pair, the more contrasts that can be spotted in the details.”

jaune has a more “feminine way of dealing with emotions” while ruby has the more masculine way of dealing with emotions

aminoapps . com/c/rwby/page/blog/why-its-good-for-jaunes-semblance-to-be-a-support-type/xpp7_XQ4s2u6RGX2zboa6JwM2XMekWGZd68

“Joan of Arc is known for breaking gender stereotypes about what it meant to be a woman. And if you think about it in a lot of ways Jaune doesn’t fit into the stereotypical “man box.” We are don’t “men don’t cry.” He wears his emotions on his sleeve. While in the real world men (and in the world of RWBY BOTH men and women ARGUABLY) are told to be strong. And that many people superficially equate physical strength with heroism (Raven?) it is fitting that Jaune’s semblance doesn’t so much doesn’t so much empower himself, as it empowers others. (as well as himself but its more effective on others in the team since they are more skilled than him) The so called “Feminine” strength.” P.S. Hmm as a follow-up to my The Importance Of Foils Part 2 post. I think that Ruby, despite being a girl, fits into the “man box” better than anyone else including it’s UNHEALTHY WAYS OF DEALING WITH EMOTIONS. The only difference is on remnant, it’s not because a man doesn’t cry. But because “a hero doesn’t cry.”

ruby first activated her silver eyes leading to her to learn about them when she saw pyrrha jaunes partner impaled by cinder and burnt to ash failing to save pyrrha  her awakening being in reaction to her death while jaune activated his semblance and realized what it was when he saw rubys partner weiss  impaled by cinder and  was able to save her  life awakening his semblance to do so allowing him to learn what his semblance was ( which is a good example this is an example of them being foils  and how its been shown and effected their storys )

@luminous777​ “  It would play into how he and ruby are opposites in many of their character traits.  Ruby's color scheme is red her hair cloak and clothes, black clothes and silver eyes and accessories. Jaune gold hair and accents, white armor, and Blue eyes and pants.

so  ruby and jaune silver and gold     

and while 

( and old thought I had  maybe when jaune uses his aura amplification on himself his eyes turn gold we never got to see jaunes eyes when he uses aura amplification himself consistently and thats what happens when tyrian uses his semblance )

and the god of lights complexion is a softly glowing light gold 

In his draconic form, while his complexion remains the same, his horns become whiter, longer, and more streamlined and his voice deepens considerably. His body is long and serpentine, like that of a real-world Eastern traditional dragon. He possesses a long mane of golden hair that runs the length of his body, forming a plume at the tip of his tail as well as rather extensive facial hair that terminates in two feathery tipped whiskers

so it fits for jaune who is based off a saint ( whose definitions include a likeness to god ) having a gold theme 

h-e-m-o-goblin . tumblr . com/post/190207935435

xiaobelle . tumblr . com/post/189538869176/holy-fuck-jaunes-gonna-kill-him-isnt-he

jaune and tyrians  auras when they activate their semblances have the same   color as the god of light  presided over creation/life  ) and dark ( who had presided over destruction/death and created things related to that)  respectively and this is fitting given their semblances jaunes is protective and helps heal and protect someones life by imparting his own aura on to someone   and amplifying their aura    while tyrians semblance is meant to help him tear through someones  aura through aura weakening drastically weakening the aura in the places he strikes  make the person easier to kill  

@thehtg-therealone​  @darksaiyangoku​

[draculalive]

“The Pall Mall Gazette,” 18 September.

THE ESCAPED WOLF. PERILOUS ADVENTURE OF OUR INTERVIEWER. Interview with the Keeper in the Zoölogical Gardens.

After many inquiries and almost as many refusals, and perpetually using the words “Pall Mall Gazette” as a sort of talisman, I managed to find the keeper of the section of the Zoölogical Gardens in which the wolf department is included. Thomas Bilder lives in one of the cottages in the enclosure behind the elephant-house, and was just sitting down to his tea when I found him. Thomas and his wife are hospitable folk, elderly, and without children, and if the specimen I enjoyed of their hospitality be of the average kind, their lives must be pretty comfortable. The keeper would not enter on what he called “business” until the supper was over, and we were all satisfied. Then when the table was cleared, and he had lit his pipe, he said:—

“Now, sir, you can go on and arsk me what you want. You’ll excoose me refoosin’ to talk of perfeshunal subjects afore meals. I gives the wolves and the jackals and the hyenas in all our section their tea afore I begins to arsk them questions.”

“How do you mean, ask them questions?” I queried, wishful to get him into a talkative humour.

“’Ittin’ of them over the ’ead with a pole is one way; scratchin’ of their hears is another, when gents as is flush wants a bit of a show-orf to their gals. I don’t so much mind the fust — the ’ittin’ with a pole afore I chucks in their dinner; but I waits till they’ve ’ad their sherry and kawffee, so to speak, afore I tries on with the ear-scratchin’. Mind you,” he added philosophically, “there’s a deal of the same nature in us as in them theer animiles. Here’s you a-comin’ and arskin’ of me questions about my business, and I that grumpy-like that only for your bloomin’ ’arf-quid I’d ’a’ seen you blowed fust ’fore I’d answer. Not even when you arsked me sarcastic-like if I’d like you to arsk the Superintendent if you might arsk me questions. Without offence did I tell yer to go to ’ell?”

“You did.”

“An’ when you said you’d report me for usin’ of obscene language that was ’ittin’ me over the ’ead; but the ’arf-quid made that all right. I weren’t a-goin’ to fight, so I waited for the food, and did with my ’owl as the wolves, and lions, and tigers does. But, Lor’ love yer ’art, now that the old ’ooman has stuck a chunk of her tea-cake in me, an’ rinsed me out with her bloomin’ old teapot, and I’ve lit hup, you may scratch my ears for all you’re worth, and won’t git even a growl out of me. Drive along with your questions. I know what yer a-comin’ at, that ’ere escaped wolf.”

“Exactly. I want you to give me your view of it. Just tell me how it happened; and when I know the facts I’ll get you to say what you consider was the cause of it, and how you think the whole affair will end.”

“All right, guv’nor. This ’ere is about the ’ole story. That ’ere wolf what we called Bersicker was one of three grey ones that came from Norway to Jamrach’s, which we bought off him four years ago. He was a nice well-behaved wolf, that never gave no trouble to talk of. I’m more surprised at ’im for wantin’ to get out nor any other animile in the place. But, there, you can’t trust wolves no more nor women.”

“Don’t you mind him, sir!” broke in Mrs. Tom, with a cheery laugh. “’E’s got mindin’ the animiles so long that blest if he ain’t like a old wolf ’isself! But there ain’t no ’arm in ’im.”

“Well, sir, it was about two hours after feedin’ yesterday when I first hear my disturbance. I was makin’ up a litter in the monkey-house for a young puma which is ill; but when I heard the yelpin’ and ’owlin’ I kem away straight. There was Bersicker a-tearin’ like a mad thing at the bars as if he wanted to get out. There wasn’t much people about that day, and close at hand was only one man, a tall, thin chap, with a ’ook nose and a pointed beard, with a few white hairs runnin’ through it. He had a ’ard, cold look and red eyes, and I took a sort of mislike to him, for it seemed as if it was ’im as they was hirritated at. He ’ad white kid gloves on ’is ’ands, and he pointed out the animiles to me and says: ‘Keeper, these wolves seem upset at something.’

“‘Maybe it’s you,’ says I, for I did not like the airs as he give ’isself. He didn’t git angry, as I ’oped he would, but he smiled a kind of insolent smile, with a mouth full of white, sharp teeth. ‘Oh no, they wouldn’t like me,’ ’e says.

“‘Ow yes, they would,’ says I, a-imitatin’ of him. ‘They always likes a bone or two to clean their teeth on about tea-time, which you ’as a bagful.’

“Well, it was a odd thing, but when the animiles see us a-talkin’ they lay down, and when I went over to Bersicker he let me stroke his ears same as ever. That there man kem over, and blessed but if he didn’t put in his hand and stroke the old wolf’s ears too!

“‘Tyke care,’ says I. ‘Bersicker is quick.’

“‘Never mind,’ he says. ‘I’m used to ’em!’

“‘Are you in the business yourself?’ I says, tyking off my ’at, for a man what trades in wolves, anceterer, is a good friend to keepers.

“‘No’ says he, ‘not exactly in the business, but I ’ave made pets of several.’ And with that he lifts his ’at as perlite as a lord, and walks away. Old Bersicker kep’ a-lookin’ arter ’im till ’e was out of sight, and then went and lay down in a corner and wouldn’t come hout the ’ole hevening. Well, larst night, so soon as the moon was hup, the wolves here all began a-’owling. There warn’t nothing for them to ’owl at. There warn’t no one near, except some one that was evidently a-callin’ a dog somewheres out back of the gardings in the Park road. Once or twice I went out to see that all was right, and it was, and then the ’owling stopped. Just before twelve o’clock I just took a look round afore turnin’ in, an’, bust me, but when I kem opposite to old Bersicker’s cage I see the rails broken and twisted about and the cage empty. And that’s all I know for certing.”

“Did any one else see anything?”

“One of our gard’ners was a-comin’ ’ome about that time from a ’armony, when he sees a big grey dog comin’ out through the garding ’edges. At least, so he says, but I don’t give much for it myself, for if he did ’e never said a word about it to his missis when ’e got ’ome, and it was only after the escape of the wolf was made known, and we had been up all night-a-huntin’ of the Park for Bersicker, that he remembered seein’ anything. My own belief was that the ’armony ’ad got into his ’ead.”

“Now, Mr. Bilder, can you account in any way for the escape of the wolf?”

“Well, sir,” he said, with a suspicious sort of modesty, “I think I can; but I don’t know as ’ow you’d be satisfied with the theory.”

“Certainly I shall. If a man like you, who knows the animals from experience, can’t hazard a good guess at any rate, who is even to try?”

“Well then, sir, I accounts for it this way; it seems to me that ’ere wolf escaped — simply because he wanted to get out.”

From the hearty way that both Thomas and his wife laughed at the joke I could see that it had done service before, and that the whole explanation was simply an elaborate sell. I couldn’t cope in badinage with the worthy Thomas, but I thought I knew a surer way to his heart, so I said:—

“Now, Mr. Bilder, we’ll consider that first half-sovereign worked off, and this brother of his is waiting to be claimed when you’ve told me what you think will happen.”

“Right y’are, sir,” he said briskly. “Ye’ll excoose me, I know, for a-chaffin’ of ye, but the old woman here winked at me, which was as much as telling me to go on.”

“Well, I never!” said the old lady.

“My opinion is this: that ’ere wolf is a-’idin’ of, somewheres. The gard’ner wot didn’t remember said he was a-gallopin’ northward faster than a horse could go; but I don’t believe him, for, yer see, sir, wolves don’t gallop no more nor dogs does, they not bein’ built that way. Wolves is fine things in a storybook, and I dessay when they gets in packs and does be chivyin’ somethin’ that’s more afeared than they is they can make a devil of a noise and chop it up, whatever it is. But, Lor’ bless you, in real life a wolf is only a low creature, not half so clever or bold as a good dog; and not half a quarter so much fight in ’im. This one ain’t been used to fightin’ or even to providin’ for hisself, and more like he’s somewhere round the Park a-’idin’ an’ a-shiverin’ of, and, if he thinks at all, wonderin’ where he is to get his breakfast from; or maybe he’s got down some area and is in a coal-cellar. My eye, won’t some cook get a rum start when she sees his green eyes a-shining at her out of the dark! If he can’t get food he’s bound to look for it, and mayhap he may chance to light on a butcher’s shop in time. If he doesn’t, and some nursemaid goes a-walkin’ orf with a soldier, leavin’ of the hinfant in the perambulator — well, then I shouldn’t be surprised if the census is one babby the less. That’s all.”

I was handing him the half-sovereign, when something came bobbing up against the window, and Mr. Bilder’s face doubled its natural length with surprise.

“God bless me!” he said. “If there ain’t old Bersicker come back by ’isself!”

He went to the door and opened it; a most unnecessary proceeding it seemed to me. I have always thought that a wild animal never looks so well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is between us; a personal experience has intensified rather than diminished that idea.

After all, however, there is nothing like custom, for neither Bilder nor his wife thought any more of the wolf than I should of a dog. The animal itself was as peaceful and well-behaved as that father of all picture-wolves — Red Riding Hood’s quondam friend, whilst moving her confidence in masquerade.

The whole scene was an unutterable mixture of comedy and pathos. The wicked wolf that for half a day had paralysed London and set all the children in the town shivering in their shoes, was there in a sort of penitent mood, and was received and petted like a sort of vulpine prodigal son. Old Bilder examined him all over with most tender solicitude, and when he had finished with his penitent said:—

“There, I knew the poor old chap would get into some kind of trouble; didn’t I say it all along? Here’s his head all cut and full of broken glass. ’E’s been a-gettin’ over some bloomin’ wall or other. It’s a shyme that people are allowed to top their walls with broken bottles. This ’ere’s what comes of it. Come along, Bersicker.”

He took the wolf and locked him up in a cage, with a piece of meat that satisfied, in quantity at any rate, the elementary conditions of the fatted calf, and went off to report.

I came off, too, to report the only exclusive information that is given to-day regarding the strange escapade at the Zoo.

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of Marvel: Week of June 5th, 2019

Best of this Week: Meet the Skrulls #5 - Robbie Thompson, Niko Henrichon, Laurent Grossat and Travis Lanham

Earth has a way of changing everyone.

Of all of the races in the Marvel Universe, the Skrulls absolutely blend in the best. They act like us, laugh like us and even have families like us, but what happens when that family becomes more important than the mission? That’s what Meet the Skrulls asks us as we reach the end of the harrowing series.

Mirroring the happy beginnings of their mission, the rest of the Warner family, mother, Gloria, and her daughters, Alice, Madison and a presumed dead Ivy return to their family home. All is not good as it is engulfed in flame, leading to Gloria driving the family to a safe house just outside their city limits. Alice turns into a butterfly to complete her part of the mission while Gloria and Madison are reunited with their father, Carl, who tells them that their handler, Moloth, has betrayed them.

Meanwhile, Alice infiltrates the home of one of her highschool “friends” and tells her of her mission and that once she completes it, she will never show her face again. It’s distressing that things have gone so terribly that she’s willing to throw away her secret in a last ditch effort to salvage her mission, but that’s how the Skrulls are. They are focused on serving their homeworld and anything less than that is unacceptable in their eyes, especially for Alice who had been trying to become part of humanity for the entirety of the series.

At the same time, Carl begins to systematically incapacitate the rest of the family with stun guns, however Gloria catches on when he asks for a spot of tea from her that this is not her husband. She poisons the tea, but he detects it and they confront each other. Elsewhere, Iron Man arrives at a Stark Enterprises facility and questions how none of his staff knew that there was another floor/room that someone was using and how did a Skrull get in. Alice, posing as her friend’s mother, finds the body of her father, having been shot in the chest in the last issue. An unfortunate sacrifice to save his daughter, Ivy.

At the safehouse, Gloria and Moloth fight fiercely. Henrichon’s art reaches a new level of dynamic as limbs expand, twist and contort because of the Skrull’s shapeshifting abilities. Attacks and bodies look gross and everything is impactful because of the closed nature of the space they occupy. Not only that, but faces are expressive of the fury and betrayal that they all feel.

Moloth is disappointed in Skrull High Command and believe them to be weak and incompetent, choosing to betray them to another unknown benefactor and making the Warner’s take the fall for his actions. The Warners, Gloria and a recovered Madison are pissed and hurt that Moloth killed their father. Gloria rages and as she punches and kicks Moloth, it’s so very satisfying.

Moloth, however, gets the better of them and manages to hold them down with his limbs sort of taking the form of tree trunks, almost. He is dispatched when Alice returns, driving a car through the house and crushing him. He tells the family that the Skrull Homeworld will think that they’ve betrayed their home, that they can’t run, but Gloria tells him that that’s exactly what Moloth’s trained them for, turning her arm into a blade and killing him.The family then puts Carl’s body on a pyre and now have to live a life on the run while being pursued by Tony Stark and the Moloth’s unknown bosses.

I’ve been a fan of Meet the Skrulls since the first issue and I wish I had given it more love when it came to showing the books off because they are amazing. Robbie Thompson writes these characters in such a subtle way. The underlying love for each other is there, but it’s clouded by a cover of duty and a little bit of resentment in the first few issues due to the unexplained loss of Ivy sometime prior. Once it’s revealed that Ivy is alive and you think that the family may have  happy ending, that feeling is immediately ripped away and replaced with grief.

These characters are soldiers in a never ending war, but they somehow managed to form a bond beyond the war. It’s even harder because they are an actual family, but adjusting to life on Earth and some semblance of freedom making them supposedly weaker humanizes them in a way that we haven’t seen from the Skrulls before.

Not to mention how beautiful Henrichon’s art is. Henrichon has done amazing art for Doctor Strange and New Mutants with lots of spectacle and style, but the way that he draws small moments... little moments of intimacy and smiles, sometimes panels with no dialogue whatsoever is spectacular. His faces are awesome and the feeling is palpable in each of them. The sorrow from Alice as her “friend” questions who she is, the shock as Madison and Gloria see “Carl” and the rage as previously mentioned.

Meet the Skrulls definitely deserves some acclaim. It’s a spy thriller, a family drama and an alien invasion story wrapped into one nice and neat package. The art is phenomenal and while it may not continue past this story, it’s definitely one worth reading. The characters are engaging, from the overbearing and mission focused Carl, to his loving wife who’s grown disillusioned to the mission, to the dutiful Madison and the wistful Alice who just wants to be as normal as the humans. It’s an emotional journey and the ending is as impactful as its beginning. High recommend.

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

There aren't many other words to describe this issue other than EPIC.

Runner Up: The War of the Realms #5 - Jason Aaron, Russell Dauterman, Matthew Wilson and Joe Sabino

The War of the Realms is in full swing and the forces of Midgard are mounting their comeback! Thanks to the work of Shuri, communications are restored, allowing the various heroes of Earth to coordinate their actions, allowing for everyone to be teleported to areas that need them the most.

This leads to various amazing shots drawn by Russell Dauterman. The visual of Black Panther on a winged horse as Okoye and the Dora Milaje fight off the Angels of Heven is the background is stunning, Captain Britain and Captain America fighting off Dark Elves to the shores of France is amazingly inspiring and watching Wolverine be welcomed into the Warriors Three by Hogun and Fandral as he tears through Muspelheim's demons is brutal and hilarious.

Not only these moments, but the ones that are even longer look badass! Watching Volstagg return to his normal self as he dons the Destroyer Armor to fight Kurse is awesome because he shows that he'll never give up, even while suffering from his injuries against The Mangog. Frank Castle leading the Light Elves of Alfheim, wielding GUNS to fight the dark elves is AMAZING. And watching Captain Marvel and Roz Solomon team up to fight Dario Agger, giving him the comeuppance he deserves is so fulfilling.

While all of this war is going on, Thor is being ferried to the World Tree, Yggdrasil, by Daredevil. Surprisingly, it has been surviving on the surface of the sun as a seed of it was on Asgardia when it was being destroyed. To attain knowledge of how to win the war, Thor has Daredevil pin him to the tree in a fashion similar to when his father hung himself on the tree for seven years or so(?).

He returns in a series of shots, thunder rumbling as he crashes through the enemy forces, looking for Malekith. Hoping to mark the end of a rivalry that's been years in the making.

Because of the vast nature of this book and its extra size, there's so much to cover, but the main points are there. This is a Thor story, but it's a Marvel Event. An initial criticism that I had was that it did not feature Thor enough, casting him away to fight Frost Giants in Jotunheim for most of it, but honestly that's a good thing.

If Thor had remained, then we wouldn't have gotten the struggles that all of these heroes had to face while going up against Thor's magic nonsense. It's been a wild ride seeing Daredevil as The God Without Fear, seeing him use powers and a newfound sight to fight the forces of evil. Watching Frank Castle's profile raise CONSIDERABLY because of how integral to the War he has been is something else entirely. Most importantly, watching Black Panther coordinate everything alongside Lady Freyja cements him as a leader right on par with Steve Rogers.

When Malekith took Thor's arm back in 2014, no one knew that the villain would grow into such a huge threat this many years later, except for Jason Aaron. The War of the Realms is the culmination of everything that he's been building since 2012's Thor: God of Thunder. It's been a WILD and fun ride throughout and this penultimate issue has me salivating for the epic final confrontation between the Accursed and The Unworthy.

[libidomechanica]

“If louers”

In world nis noon so fayre a moment  off dearly! If louers; see no better or  late dictator of God,  as we sate to the way  to those life and comfort, and  the blazon of relish in  the spirit robbd forth from  hevene it is most loving withstood  than to win ye, O: may  i feel bring in the winkd with  eyes the old mans fame she looked  remarks I would not dead, confined, some  huge oak whose present, safe—  not when the witches,  which I know that I have to  all thy store; be wise. Of the  fault is your fair children are  time disease— year and thine, but he is  sport; both my bonny lass of her. Of  tears could not know a sweetly she  strength to keep stillness which a  thousand scandal hit. By a  fatal shore of the breast, the  God is bright, the height to  save. That never beds down well find, to  ease the tears no mean to  man, were thoughts, chastes shalbe proued. To  make her mammies charms, and sighed,  but them linkd in their clothd my troth,  what you, but mine o the power,  the bosom of the oblivious  thine eye, hereto long have I  would insist while sore ended I  have you, because as  ages on such must not Wit,  then the green and agonys forgotten  peace is thine happy  thing new, a stepdame eke as wasted  place, stella, I say that once  said, “you—tell us what wing than  see for any Day that shot himself  a morning-Shower—one Morning,  wolves not through life, and his Divine. Had 

chanced in his gore, he thrive anthem  from the river of sense? Not  too much of me, and be close  our client, poor woman wert thou  hast by me be; and the hollow  within: of conquer all, delights.  Even Sappho at her time or  Greece, while you the trysting will  notes strangers of the day and  grey and thy story as it round  the truth, even more— the Muses  treasure, our corner- stones good-morrow and air, seemed  the purer page And moonless spot,  the break. wondering storms! Littleneck  clams out thee to myself at season:  many days unkind, for the  best was of one date;” bring  storms, and, lass, and manna dew; and  when in the little  he had too long-wave light at you to  whome myself nor though it all you prefiguring;  right— I said, I left the body  and virtue of your absence!  Its a coverd up in leave thee,  let me pour forth from me Ill remember,  oer thou among then a dog  passing whelm the pair! But now was  Juan, heretofore had herself they  are the mockers and fro, riddled  wife, or so; a gentle  heart gone, but most I still true brought of  a thousand paced upon their surfaces  fell to do me  most love, the dead— the thunderstand  my own voice said, fifteen hundred  the rest:  Intellects  are rebuilt. and we are. Her  gestures of dross the Curse of  social, haunt mine—tender than for  you the oceans of desire  of that bless: the ceiling.

[ts-virgil-angst]

Balloons

TW: death, loss of a friend

Genre: dunno if it quite qualifies as angst bc it’s just really sad

Word Count: 884

Summary/Prompts: i’ve been out of it for a while so here’s some sadness about the loss of a friend

@wikkedwolff @mira-jadeamethyst @genderqueerwriter @we-get-it-your-adorible @finiteframe3 @frustratedwaffle @queerweare @zoeyheys @analogically-prinxiety @polysandershell @prinxietys @jadorefreedom @inalandofmythandtimeofmagic @thebaagelboy @vampyrsarah @deafinitelyfangirling @z4rylynn @agentflash18 @gaysaxaphone @winds-and-stardust @the-laarmy @cisnesincorbata @fugitive-angel @netzoflix @paragonofsophistication @angsty-anxxiety @kentato-kenreblog @hells-angel-hevens-demon @thesmallestalien @saltequeen @theanxofthethomas @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @miniritzcrackers @ninjas-forever @citygjrl

There were too many people around. Too many he didn’t know, and he couldn’t find the people he did.

The balloon in his hands was the only keeping him from a full-blown anxiety attack. He was supposed to write a message on it. Something he wanted to say to Patton now that he was gone, but he wasn’t sure there was enough room on the balloon for all of the things he wanted to say.

Patton had been with him since freshmen year when Virgil had just moved to the school. Despite his dark appearance, Patton was eager to befriend him and break through his walls. Though he rolled his eyes at his dad jokes and shyly rebuffed his praises, he had loved every moment he spent with Patton. He had introduced him to two new people whom he had grown to love. While Logan and Roman had been slow to accept him, they had become two indispensable people in his life.

Roman had gotten him out of his comfort zone by insisting he be a techie for one of his plays, just to see how Virgil liked it. It was stressful and crazy and he knew by the end of the night if one more actor moved something from the prop table he was going to strangle them. But it was fun. It was more human interaction than he was used to, but he was glad he did it. Every stupid stressful moment was worth it.

Logan had been the most understanding of his anxiety attacks. Before Logan, Virgil had almost nothing to combat the attacks. All at once he was left shaking and crying, curling in on himself. But Logan saw his struggle and asked if he could teach him ways to calm himself so that he would avoid the attacks to begin with and end them when he was faced with one. He found a breathing exercise that saved him more times than he could count over the years.

If it hadn’t been for Patton, he wasn’t sure he would have even crossed Logan and Roman’s radars.

“When you’re done writing what you have to say on your balloon, make sure to pass on the marker to the next person.”

Virgil’s grip on the balloon tightened. He still wasn’t sure what to write, though he was sure that whatever he eventually put down, Patton would love it. They had been friends, confidants, and lovers. Patton meant the world to Virgil.

And now his world was gone.

A marker was put into his line of sight and he glanced up to see Roman, more somber than he had ever seen the happy go lucky theatre prince.

Virgil took the marker as Roman sat down next to him in the grass. “It doesn’t have to be meaningful,” Roman said. “Just any thought you’ve had since he passed.”

Virgil uncapped the marker and slowly wrote: you’ve been gone a month and I get sad every time I think of you, but I swear I’ll be happy again. I promise.

He passed the marker to Logan with shaking hands. Logan was calm, completely still. Most would take it for indifference, but Virgil knew he was barely holding it together.

“Would any of his close friend’s like to say anything?” The three of them quickly looked at one another. Roman seemed like the obvious choice, but he could barely say Patton’s name without breaking. Logan was one mistake from completely falling apart and Virgil knew that it wouldn’t be pretty.

He climbed to his feet, careful of his balloon, and took the mic. He took a shaky breath before speaking. “I would say Patton was a kind person, but I don’t think that it would do him enough justice. He wasn’t proud, but he took pride in the people he chose to be around. He had a dad-like personality, so of course all of his jokes were terrible, he texted in full sentences, and his phone was outdated except it wasn’t broken so he wouldn’t upgrade.” He found himself smiling for the first time since he had passed. The funeral had been weeks ago, but until now, it had always felt like he had just left it.

“We were, uh, we were supposed to go to a concert next week. There was so much we were supposed to do, actually. We were supposed to complain about the summer heat. We were supposed to get older and move out of our houses. We were supposed to get homesick and visit our parents’ every day. We were supposed to come back because we’d be broke college students who couldn’t afford anything. We were supposed to grow up and finally figure out what we were going to do with our lives. We were supposed to live. We were all supposed to make it.”

Roman and Logan were suddenly at his side, because all at once he couldn’t hold on to anything. His balloon was in the first to catch wind and soon others followed suit.

It wasn’t long before the crowd dispersed, and Virgil sank to the ground, falling back to look at the sky as the balloons sent their messages to Patton. Tears streaked down his face, and for the first time he felt something close to peace.

[chickenstuffedwithmozzarella]

Yaaay!! Thank you Soraya's inbox, sorry i blamed you on eating the last ask😂😘. You did great. Nono, he wasnt a torero, he looked like a prince. (Which is not better bcs i dont like any of those  figures but... whatever). Ooh, talking about suits, did you see the ranking hsfashionarchive did of the suits he wore this tour? Bcn was winning, pink suit was second and Mdd was third!! (1)

[I hope this works 😜🙏🏻, bc this was TOO long, jajajaa.]

Ohhh. Your mom is the best. So supportive! Petition to give her that award. She is clearly the winner. (1D clinex? capitalism in its pure state 😂. Did they really made those? Glad i didnt find it on time bcs i would have definitely brought them as a joke to my sister or something). You are already playing Niall’s songs to her? Did she like them? Does she have anything similar to “pikachu get away” she had for SOTT?. (2)

JAJAJAJJA. Netflix always does that to me too. Dont know why. I started watching Black mirror backwards bcs of that. Did you understand anything of chapter 7 os ST? (Did you finish the show??). Yep. The 8th season is the last one, and i dont know hoe to feel about it. Dissapointed by the shows? As in with the ending?? Or how? (3)

You sound like a devoted cat lady, yes. Ooow, i have little cousins too, though they are reaching the age of “too cool to be seen with you, old girl” Of course they make me laugh. Honey is a menace and i appreciate it. JAJAJAJAJAJAJA. He ate the chorizo?? Honeeey!! 😂😂😂 that made me laugh at loud int the train and now my neighbour is looking at me weirdly. I see, you’ll never get bored with him. (4)

When i was younger and + close minded, i didnt like tattos. Considere also that the ones I had saw in real life were the tribal ones, so there’s tgat. But then i grew up and started liking them (you can partially blame larry for that). Nobody in my family (cousins and so) has one, and thats kind of a encouragement, I’d love to piss them, but my dad has threaten me to disinherit me (we dont heven have that, lol) and i dont have any tatto on mind, so i wont do it… maybe in the future, yes. (5)

I MISS LOUIS TOO! I hope he is fine. Resting and so. Im sure that creating the album that will destroy us all takes a lot of effort. (Seriously, where is heeeee?). Heeey!! I wont get bored. Or mad! I have such a great time talking to you. If i dont talk more its bcs of the character limit and bcs im always worried about pressuring or imposing. Dont be dumb. If i dont answer its bcs im busy with finals and so. Nothing more. Promise. (6)

THANK YOU FOR UNDERSTANDING. i know i know. It makes sense and its a smart move, but… i cant stand raeggeton/latino, its not for me. Sad. I havent lost hope though. Maybe ill change my mind later Yeah, i have the same problem with my friends, they only listen to trap and raeggeton and i die everytime. We mostly agree to put something neutral like pop or the radio. (Disney songs never get old😂). (7)

Ay. I just saw that i wrote “heven” instead of “even” and now i want to delete myself. I was walking while writing the asks and i didnt proofread it. I feel so dumb. Anyway, sorry for sending so many asks (today i made a record xd) and, as always, good night!!————————————————————————-Hi!!!! Yes! I saw the ranking. But it isn’t exactly a ranking. It’s more to like chose wants your favorite suit. I did it and guess what? My first choice in the Madrid one, jajajaa. Second the kilt. And third the jumpsuit. Very accurate.

Oh, you’re telling me! My family bought me a bunch of 1D merch (unofficial all): the clinex, a hair brush, a bracelet, 2 books!, one perfume (this I love it, it smells so good), a make up box… I can’t even remember everything. Ah! A birthday card too!! Where they talk when you open it. I always use to wish happy birthday to people (the audio) 🤣🤣🤣🤣. I had to tell them to please stop wasting money on those things. I don’t even know where I have it. And if a can ask, I’d rather they give me the money so I can go to their concerts,jajajaja.EDIT: I can’t believe I forgot the poster!! I have it beside my head right now,jajaja, and I only realized it was there when I looked at the boys to ask for inspiration,😅😅)

Oh, my mom loves Niall’s album too. But I don’t think she “knows” any of the lyrics,jajaja. Though, she knows the hmmmm in This Town. But that’s all. She and my sister, both separately were like: “oh! who’s him??” When they heard Fire Away. And I was like: “ehhhhh, it’s Niall’s album, so guess who’s it?? What, you like it? See, Harry’s not the only one who can sing…” jajajajja. It’s because of comments like this, that they think I don’t like Harry. And I get so offended when they hint at it! Like, of course I like Harry. But I like all of them too!! God!! I love Niall’s album so much (I’m hearing it right now, bc I couldn’t remember what song was the one they liked it so much, and now I can’t stop 😅). Harry’s and Niall’s albums have been lining in my car since they were released. I had Harry’s playing in a loop till I got Niall’s one and I interchanged them. Then Harry’s came back a month or so before his concert. And now it’s time for Niall’s again. (You can’t imagine how hard it’s being writing this with honey laying on my arm!! Jajaja, I can’t barely move my fingers😅).

AND WHAT DID YOU DO WHEN YOU REALIZED YOU WERE WATCHING BLACK MIRROS BACKWARDS??? I’ve watched canter 1 and 2 of ST afterwards, but I hadn’t gotten to watch the whole thing yet. I can’t stand to be looking at a screen for 50minutes without doing anything. And don’t get me wrong, lol, I can be on tumblr for hours, jajaja, but a have to move my hand, and I can go from a blog to another… y'know, jajajajaja. And when I watched chapter 7 of ST i was like, okay… now they have to investigate what happened… or a guessed they would be doing flashbacks… jajajajajaja. Then I realized my mistake and thought I was stupid, 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣“I see you from a different point of view🎶🎶” ( sorry, that’s me singing,jajajaja, Seeing Blind. I LOVE that song)And shows have disappointed me in the sense that they turn out to have an awful ending (seriously, I know you do it for the audience, but end a show how it deserves it, don’t turn it into shit just for a handful of money); or bc they just end it bc they don’t have enough audience. It’s always a matter of audience,jajaja.if they have a lot, they want to explode it. And if they don’t have enough they finish it ASAP. 😒

Honey is a menace, yeh, I couldn’t love him more,jajajaja. He can’t see me petting Liam, he gets jealous and comes to me and headbutt my hand so I pet him too. And Liam is so patient with him. They’re totally like liam and Louis, jajja. Hey! did I tell you the story about when I got Liam? no!! Well, someone gave my dad 4 kitties (they were sooooo small). So, guess their names (it was post March 25, 2015…) yes!! They were named (by me) Louis, Niall, Harry and Liam, jajajajajja. But Harry died a couple of days later, because he was really really young. He couldn’t survive without his mom ☹️. And the other three, my dad took them to a place we have were he has a little garden (?) with vegetables and chickens and proper farm-y, jejeje. I wasn’t too (any) into cats back then, so… Then he brought home one of them, to have our home free of mice. AND IT WAS LIAM!! And I adopted him. I took care of him. We started loving each other. And he became useless with mice, jajaja. He’s totally domesticated now 😝. And that’s his story. The rest? Louis became a big alpha male at their new home. But s car ran him over last summer, and he died 😔. And Niall is a female, jajajajaa. And I hate her. Because she hasn’t been able to keep her kitties alive once!! (She’s pregame again, and we’re praying this time she knows who to be a mom🙏🏻) Ah!! And Honey had siblings the other day!! The guy who gave it to my dad is my brother’s friend and he show him a pic. There are two white cats!! I WANT THEM!!! But they don’t let me have anymore cats! Jajajajaja.

Hey, we might have in common the reason why we started liking tats, jajajjajaa. And, well, to piss off the family is as good a reason as any other,jajajaja. And why are dads like that?? When my sister and I got our lips pierced he went to pick up at the train station and as soon as he saw us he turned around and walked to the car without saying a word,jajajajja. I HAD TOLMY PARENTS WE WOULD BE DOING IT!! I asked my mom:hey mom, if a get a 10 in maths, can I get a piercing?? And she say okay. So I got a 10 (I might cheated or not on this, bc I already knew I had a 10, but wel…), and I got a piercing.my sister only got it, bc I was 16, she had to go with me as an adult, and giving she was already there, she got one too,jajajaja. (My granny almost kill us 😅)

Oh, louis has a BIG responsibility on his hands. He will be killing a lot of people when he puts out his album. He has to chose the proper songs to do it. It will be considered a massive destruction weapon, so he better be careful. But god, for real, when will Louis and Liam release their albums. At this pace, Harry and Niall will be releasing their second one before LiLo has finished their respective tours. And when they finish, Narry will have release their second one, and will be promoting them. So Lilo will start working in their seconds one. And… and… AND ONE DIRECTION WON’T COME BACK EVER BECAUSE THEY CAN FIX A DATE WHERE ALL OF THE BOYS HAVE NOTHING TO DO, AND WHAT WILL I DO??? 😭😭😭😭😭 (sorry, I panicked a bit there,oops).

Uggggg, I can’t stand raeggeton either. I can’t stand the music, argggg. Or the culture of it (the how it treats women, and glorifies sex). I can’t I can’t.and you can’t go out without hearing it. My friends and I went on road trip once. And it was my friend’s car. And she only listens to raeggeton. And after 10, 15, 40? minutes I had to ask her “will this song ever end???” And she told me it was already a different one. And I swear I almost jump out of the car,jajajajaja. We were crossing a bridge, and I wanted to jump out of the car!!!!! I couldn’t listen to that any more!!!!!  Ejkbvwirbfeuirnfrvoieefvnv The she caved and we switched to movie’s soundtracks,jajajaja.

Ha! Don’t worry about sending a lot of ask, I learn something, you’ll see,jajajajaa.Also, I forgot to ask early. Is your sister a 1d fan too, then? She goes to concerts and knows the song… how lucky! you have someone to talk about all the gossip!! (And they know what you’re talking about…) or is she a “casual” fan, and doesn’t get into fandom drama? She just likes the music and doesn’t care about their lives?are you both into drama?? God, I don’t discuss drama very much online, but if had someone face to face to talk about it… I would be the happiest person in the world,jajajajaa (what an exaggeration 🙊).

I think this is all. I LOVE ORPUR CONVERSATIONS!! Jajajaja( I hope I did it correctly and all this is under read more, jajaja)Byeeeeee!!!! 😚😚😚😚

[go-redgirl]

Patriot Award Recipient/Former Presidental canidate Herman Cain attends the 2015 Helping A Hero Gala on Nov. 22, 2015 in Houston, Texas. (Rick Diamond/Getty Images for Helping A Hero)By Linda J. Hansen    |   Monday, 03 August 2020 10:33 AM

Hansen: Honoring Herman Cain

Herman Cain was one of the finest men I have ever known. If anyone has ever wondered what Herman Cain was like, I could sum it up in three words: the real deal. He was honest, authentic, and loyal. He was deeply committed to Jesus Christ, his family, and his country— in that order, and everything he did revolved around those priorities.

Our shared faith and love of country brought an instant bond, and from our first meeting I knew this man was going to have an incredible impact on my life, and I would potentially have an impact on his, although I had no idea at that time just how true those words would become.

I met him a few years before he ran for president through my involvement in grassroots politics. We spoke at various political events together and he became an adviser and contributing author to a program I developed called Prosperity 101™, which I created to help employers educate employees about the public policy issues that affect their jobs.

He believed in my vision and supported my efforts wholeheartedly.

We did workshops and speaking engagements together and it was during those times of meeting with people around the country that I could see our nation was crying out for the leadership of Herman Cain.

Our mutual friend and colleague, Mark Block, had also worked with Mr. Cain over several years and he believed, as I did, that America wanted a business leader in the White House. Block and I put together a strategy and took it to Cain, encouraging him to run for president and assuring him that we could take him to number one in the polls.

Of course, he said we were "crazy," but he had that signature twinkle in his eyes and that enormous grin, and I knew he was intrigued.

I told him that 'Yes," we were "crazy," but I promised we could take him to number one!

To this day, I feel so blessed to be one of two people who recruited him to run for president and then to serve as the executive vice president and deputy chief of staff for his presidential campaign, a role that not many women in America had done at that time.

He did not care that I was a woman. He trusted my work.

Herman Cain was a man who sought results, and to work so closely with him taught me more than I could have ever learned in a classroom or from any other candidate.

We strategized together, laughed together, and prayed together. Some of my favorite memories involved flying with just him and Block during the campaign.

We had great strategy sessions at 35,000 feet!

His presidential campaign announcement rally, held on May 21, 2011, was at that time, the largest political rally in the history of our country. Much of the media ignored it, yet as over 15,000 people traveled from all over our country to support this non-politician businessman who was running for president, we knew we were experiencing history in the making.

The atmosphere was electric. I still get chills when I think of it.

While establishment politicians and many media pundits ridiculed us, we diligently kept building a grassroots army that became a movement. Many people had no idea how organized we were at the grassroots level, despite no paid advertising and a limited budget.

Our signature "9-9-9" tax plan became wildly popular, and a greeting to supporters from Chief of Staff Block, that included the famous puff on a cigarette, became a viral sensation. Poll numbers soared.

As he rose in the polls, the unfounded, vicious attacks began.

While there was no proof, it damaged the campaign.

As a businessman, he knew the odds were not in our favor. He wanted to make sure everyone on the team could be paid through the end of year, so he made a business decision to end the campaign while there was still money to do so.

Additionally, he wanted to protect his precious wife, Gloria, and their family from additional stress. Being part of the conversations that led to that decision and seeing the love and tender relationship that he and Gloria exhibited during the crisis only caused my respect for him to grow.

We have worked together on many things since then. In fact, I am blessed to have interviewed him for my "Prosperity 101™" podcast just days before he became ill.

The episode was published the day he went into the hospital. I hope he was able to hear it.

Mr. Cain (as I have always affectionately called him) was a voice for all that is good and right, and his voice will be missed but never forgotten. I am in shock and fighting tears at the loss of my dear, dear friend and mentor.

My heart aches with his family and I ask everyone to keep them in their prayers as they grieve. I thank God for Herman Cain and am thankful for the times we worked together to promote freedom and liberty in our great country.

If you want to honor his memory, please get in the fight for our country. He would want us all to turn to God for wisdom and to do all we can to keep our country free.

We must let his life be an example and be as fearless as he was. May we honor his legacy.

Linda J. Hansen is the Former Deputy Chief of Staff to Herman Cain, Political Strategist, Podcast Host and Founder & President of Prosperity 101, LLC

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OPINION:  Well, President Trump has a good supporter in ‘Heaven’ now still fighting the fight for the President and probably speaking to Almighty God now.  

Sometime, those that leave up goes to early goes to a place that they can make an even better difference on earth and that’s HEVEN!

Keep up the good fight Mr. Herman Cain, we know that you are in Gods  hands and will make even a much better difference for many of us on earth.  🙏

[soopranatural]

I'm not the nap for taking

Summary: Sam cannot stand up a moment longer or he'll collapse, that doesn't mean he won't try to.

Pairing: Sam x reader

Warnings: Sleep deprivation, self destructive behavior à la Winchester, general adorable sleepiness. I tried to write without involving feels and failed

Words: 618 (I actually wrote a short thing??)

A/N: Please let my tired boi take a goddamn nap. (Written for SPN Fluff Appreciation Day 2017, hosted by @bringmesomepie56)

Marsterlist

Mobile Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

"Sam" you gasp, half in worry and half in warning. He's just come out of your shared room, but you two hadn't slept together in about a week.

Yesterday he had been up all night doing research, the night before he had been on a solo hunt, the night before that, well.

You're worried.

You know he just took a shower, most likely in an attempt to wake up, you also know it didn't work, he still looks sleepy, only now he also looks like a drowned rat. A very big rat.

He flaps his hand at you dismissively and flip-flops his way over to you to place a sloppy kiss at the top of your head.

"Sam" you say again. He responds with a grunt of both acknowledgement and annoyance. "You gonna eat breakfast?" He shakes his head no.

"Jus' coffee" he mumbles into your hair. He's getting heavier and heavier and you suspect he's falling asleep on top of your head.

"Okay, that's it" you snap and he jumps, startled. Oh yeah, he was definitely falling asleep. "You're gonna take a nap, Sam, you can't go on like this."

"I'm not the nap for taking" he mumbles. You raise a judgmental eyebrow, trying to hold in your laugh. "I think you are the nap for taking, Sam" he frowns and huffs when he realizes what he said, begrudgingly amused at himself.

"Noo" he whines, petulant. He still follows you when you grab his forearm and lead him to the bedroom.

"C'mon, I'll nap with you, get on the bed" he flops onto the bed, still whining, and looks up at you, considering.

"You know, we could also... not... nap" he wiggles his eyebrows and you snort a laugh, climbing on the bed to lie down next to him.

"You'd fall asleep halfway through" you tease. He pouts, but keeps his mouth shut.

He turns his back to you and you snuggle close to him with a sigh. You rub soothing circles on his back and pull his head to rest on your chest. His hair is still damp, so you run your fingers through it slowly to help dry and de-tangle it.

You smile to yourself when he melts in your arms and makes a soft, humming sound of pleasure.

"It was hard on me, that last case" his deep voice suddenly interrupting the peaceful quiet startles you, you had thought he had fallen asleep. "I haven't been handling it well, I guess" yeah, no kidding, you think. But he sounds serious, and he's finally opening up, so you keep quiet.

"Those children..." he takes a deep breath to steady himself. You squeeze him tighter. "They were counting on me to save them and I failed them."

"That was not your fault Sam" you make a point of speaking firmly, even though you feel the burn of tears behind your eyes.

"They got hurt because..."

"Sam" you interrupt "there is no way that you could have stopped a crumbling building from falling like that, no way"

"One of them died." He whispers. Your heart breaks.

"I know" you whisper back "still not your fault."

He sighs, then reaches behind him and grabs your hand. You take the hint, smiling softly and wrapping your arm around his middle. You're spooning him now, and although you are usually the little spoon, you know that today he needs this, needs you. And you'll be there.

Your legs tangle together and you lay in silence until he starts snoring softly.

You kiss the top of his head and snuggle closer as much as you can.

"I love you" you whisper, and let his warmth lull you to sleep.

Remember to leave feedback!! (Hearing what you think about it helps me improve and also makes me super happy)

(You can be added to my forevers, SPN, Marvel, Sam or Dean tags, just shoot me an ask)

Forever tags:

@artgurl559-blog @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @mandilion76 @docharleythegeekqueen @call--me--princess @emmysthougts @ladylachesis @raylin19 @hells-angel-hevens-demon @sgarrett49 @jane00doe @boxywrites @lilyleely @gemini75eeyore @winchestaelson 

Sam tag:

@barbedwireandbubblegum @ginger-wayward-assbutt

[jrpneblog]

Wishin` and Hopin`

Wishin and hopin and thinkin and prayin is the opening line to the old Merseybeats hit but never was it more appropriate to the thoughts of North End fans this season. It is, literally, a lifetime ago since Dave Wilson scored North End`s last goal in the top flight at Burden Park Bolton on April 29th 1961. The Leyland Correspondent had arrived on planet Earth by then by had not yet reached his 1st birthday. It`s true we have been at the gates of Heaven twice but unfortunately St Peter closed them shut before we had time to make it through. The first time wasn`t such a calamity as most thought that with the team we had and the manager we had that our time would come again soon. Well it did come again in 2005 and this time we were confident we would ascend into the higher plain but alas, once again, it wasn`t to be. We threatened a year later under Billy Davies and three years later under Alan Irvine but the team and/or tactic did not get us into the final reckoning. What made it all the more difficult to swallow was the fact that our friends in Claret and Blue made it that year and have virtually never looked back.

However North End fans have taken enough body blows over the years and are hardened to the fact that our club is our club no matter what division we are in and win lose or draw most of us will, literally, be Preston till we die. This season, though, has stirred those heavenly feelings once again and while some are getting a little carried away so early on in the season no-one can deny North End`s great start to the campaign with the season just a third of the way through. Good start as it may be there are many questions still to be answered and if the doom mongers wanted to through some spanners in the works I am sure there are several waiting in their hands. They will say that we have played 9 of the 16 games at home and that we haven`t had the most difficult of starts. The squad is stronger, undoubtedly, and is of a higher standard throughout but is that standard strong enough to maintain a place in the top six come next May or, heven help us, in the top two. Will injuries cripple us like they did last season - the reasons for it not to happen go on and on.

History is against us but can this season really herald a new dawn under Alex Neil. Last season`s ending was disappointing but this year the squad looks hungry and players are playing with confidence. Yes the Championship is tough but I don`t think a team is going to run away with it like Newcastle did a few years ago. This North End are stronger mentally and looking at the crowds and the away support they are holding up well as people start to believe that this year maybe, just maybe. There is a long way to go and many bridges to cross but we are done with International breaks now until next March so as I said last week the next phase of the season runs up to the Middlesbrough game on New Years Day which is four days before the third round of the FA Cup. If North End are still around the top six by then or hopefully in the top two then we really could be be onto something special.

This next phase of the season begins at Derby on Saturday against a team in a little bit of transition after most of their loan players went back after last season. The departure of Frank Lampard to Chelsea has seen Phillip Cocu take over at Pride Park and things haven`t really gone the way the Derby faithful would have wanted them to. It will be a tough game for North End but Alex Neil will have done his usual meticulous homework on the opposition and I`m hoping North End can get a very positive result down in the Midlands with close on 2,500 cheering them on. 

Following quickly on fron the Derby game we travel to the KC Stadium on Wednesday evening to play Hull City. The Tigers have been a little unpredictable this season but in Jarrod Bowen have one of the best talents in the Championship and if North End can keep him quiet then I am sure there is something in this game for us. Four points from these two games would be an excellent return in my opinion and North End are well capable of doing that if we play to our full potential. Let`s hope we are still in the top two next Wednesday evening at 10pm before the huge game against West Brom at Deepdale live on Sky on Monday 2nd December.

And Finally this week:-  I had the pleasure of attending Deepdale Labour Club on Wednesday evening where Keith Harrison gave a talk about his book - North End Souls. It was a very interesting evening with one or two stories that were too risque to publish but brought some merriment to the assembled audience. North End legend, John Thomas, did a question and answer session after the interval and spoke of his undying love for North End with some very complimentary comments about the late, great John Mc Grath. All in all a very entertaining evening and if you haven`t perchased this book already I can strongly recommend it for you or the North End fans in your family.

Telly Treble

Man City to beat Chelsea 4/9

Fulham to beat QPR 5/6

Tottenham to beat West Ham 3/4

A fiver on these three returns £23.17 with Coral

Running total for the season is + £0.34 including this weeks stake