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thegroovywitch · 1 year

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October 16, 1972: Page, Plant and the Indian jam lost to history

It was a slow Monday in October 1972, and the Slip Disc nightclub in Mumbai could hardly be described as “jumping”.

Around 10 people were in the venue, which was the hangout for the city’s nascent rock scene. Slip Disc measured just 30 by 18 feet, with a third of its floor-space taken up by a stage and DJ booth.

That night, three strangers walked in. They were long-haired Westerners who’d just been refused entry into Blow Up, a far more staid nightclub underneath the grand waterfront Taj Mahal Hotel where they were staying.

Madhukar Dhas, aka Madoo, the singer in Indian psychedelic rock band Atomic Forest, was in Slip Disc that evening. “We didn’t recognise them as they walked in,” Dhas, now 72, tells me. “I thought, ‘Who are these guys?’”. But a second glance changed all that. “I thought, ‘Oh shoot. It’s Led Zeppelin.’”

Robert Plant and Jimmy Page were the singer and guitarist in arguably the world’s biggest band. The Zeppelin members were en route home from a tour of Japan, which itself was part of a vast global tour to promote Led Zeppelin IV, their career-high album.

That year, the band had already played to hundreds of thousands of delirious fans from Tucson to Tokyo, and here were Page and Plant – along with tour manager Richard Cole – in a broom-cupboard dive-bar in downtown Mumbai. Not only that, but Atomic Forest and a handful of other Indian rock bands had made a career out of playing covers of Zeppelin, Stones and Jethro Tull tracks. These men were living legends. And they were now in their midst.

What happened next must rank as one of the more extraordinary “I was there” moments in rock history. It also yielded one of music’s most tantalising lost bootlegs. The evening had a broader cultural significance too. In the retelling and the myth-making that accompanied that night, the events at Slip Disc played a role in establishing Western rock ’n’ roll music in India.

As soon as Page, Plant and Cole arrived at the venue and sat down, it was clear to everyone who they were. Slip Disc’s owner, a man called Ramzan, sent over bottles of local beer: it had no head and glistened with what Dhas said looked like soap bubbles. The trio drank. “They were getting tipsy,” Dhas remembers, “but there was no entertainment. A band was there but it wasn’t their time to play. So this guy Ramzan comes to me and says, ‘Come on, sing!’”

Then just 22 years old, Dhas froze with nerves, telling the owner that his band wasn’t contracted to sing at Slip Disc. “I said, ‘It’s Robert Plant, I can’t sing in front of him.’ [Ramzan] dug his nails into my ribs and said, ‘Go sing, you bastard.’ He was desperate. So I thought, ‘What the hell.’”

Dhas took to the stage with a band comprising a musician called Willie on guitar and a drummer called Jamal (possibly from the band Velvett Fogg). Some reports suggest that the bassist with local band Human Bondage, a man called Xerxes Gobhai, also played. They’d never rehearsed together. After a brief conflab, the group launched into Honky Tonk Woman by the Stones, Dhas doing his best to channel Mick Jagger’s manic energy as one of the world’s greatest rock vocalists sat within spitting distance.

“Plant was about six feet away,” he says. “Jimmy Page was probably 10 feet away. They were enjoying themselves.” He dared to catch Plant’s eye. “Robert Plant gave me the thumbs-up. I thought, ‘Oh my God.’ It was the highlight of my musical career.”

As Madooo sang, word seeped onto the street about the VIPs in Slip Disc. The venue started to fill up. By the time the Stones cover was over, the crowd had swollen to around 50 people – or full capacity. The audience turned their attention to the Zeppelin men swigging beer. A chant of “Jam, jam, jam!” slowly filled the venue.

To everyone’s surprise, Page and Plant stood and walked to the stage. A frantic few minutes followed, as Cole tried to get the best possible sound from the amps and Page found that one of the guitars had been strung with piano strings. “You could only get what was available,” Dhas says. Ironically, Page and Plant had an aircraft full of the most expensive and cutting-edge musical equipment at the airport, but customs officials were refusing to release it. They tuned up and played.

Precise recollections of the impromptu set-list vary. It was recorded by Slip Disc’s resident DJ, Arul Harris, but the whereabouts of the only tape remain unknown. According to Dhas, Page and Plant started with a bluesy ad-lib about turning up at Blow Up, the club under the Taj, and not being allowed in. They had apparently gone to the club in traditional dress – kurta tops and Kolhapuri chappal shoes – and the doorman had dismissed them as hippies. By the time they arrived at Slip Disc, they had changed into Western clothes.

Plant sang in his distinctive high voice, with his trademark vocal stammer: ‘I was walking down / And the man wouldn’t let me in / The m-m-mmmmaaan…’ Meanwhile, Dhas remembers, the “dumbfounded” rhythm section tried their best to join in. After about ten minutes of the Blow Up jam, the band segued into Whole Lotta Love from 1969’s Led Zeppelin II. The crowd went predictably wild, although Dhas found himself with a job to do.

The microphone that Plant was using was called an Ahuja mic. It was the only type available in India at the time, and it was screwed onto its stand, unlike the handheld ones that Plant was used to yanking away. As the singer tried to untwist the microphone, its connection with the cable loosened, and his voice cut in and out. Dhas dashed forward to hold the cable close to the mic so it made a connection. He recalls: “I was literally six inches from [Plant’s] face when he was screaming ‘Loooooove’. I was deaf for about two hours after that. That high-pitched voice right into my right ear – oh boy.”

Others who were present have recalled the band starting with Rock and Roll and ending with Black Dog, with the Blow Up jam happening in the middle. Either way, Page and Plant played for just under half an hour. As the cheers faded, Plant promised the pair would return the following evening. “We listen to you, you listen to us, we’re all one in this music,” he is reported to have said.

They returned the next day as promised, only to find the world and his wife at Slip Disc, many with cameras. Page and Plant hated it, staying for around 10 minutes only. Dhas says it was a “fiasco”: “When the crowd turned up they became these rock stars again.”

Plant has acknowledged the role that the night played in spawning rock in India:

“Jimmy and I played in a club in Bombay in 1972,” the singer said in 2012. “Somehow or other we ended up in there with loads and loads of illicit substances. Some guy is writing a book about rock in India – and apparently it was born in this club, with Page and I wired out of our faces.” (He also recalled playing the drums, something other accounts don’t mention.)

In 1981, Plant appeared as a guest on New York’s WNEW 102.7FM rock radio station. Dhas was having a martini with his wife when they heard the show, and he decided to ring in. “I kept calling, and my wife said, ‘Forget about it, you’re not going to get through.’ I said, ‘No. Where there’s a will there’s a way’, and I kept on trying.” He eventually got through, telling the receptionist: “I’d like to say a word to Robert Plant. I am a guy from India, and we jammed.’”

The disbelieving receptionist hung up. But Dhas rang back on a different number and suggested they run his story by Plant. They did, and eventually the Led Zeppelin singer came on the line. “He remembered the night with fondness,” Dhas says.

The sheer joy of the Slip Disc jam is still present in Dhas’s retelling. Plant’s voice may have stopped ringing in his ear – but the memory of that Monday night in October on the Mumbai waterfront lives on.

#led zeppelin #jimmy page #robert plant #1972 #70s #classic rock #rock #hard rock #70s rock #by dee dee

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valentinepills · 1 year

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A Miracle for World PH Day 2023

TRIGGER Warning: Mention of Miscarriage in this post and unflattering photos of myself.

in December of 2019, I noticed a significant difference in my health. Shortness of Breath, even when walking a short distance, heart palpitations, cough & wheezing, chest pain and occasional nose bleeds. Untreated Anxiety and Depression associated with my Bipolar Disorder, Uncontrolled Diabetes and Intermittent Asthma were believed to be the cause of these symptoms despite my growing concerns. Each year my symptoms worsened. In February 2022, it had gotten so bad that I could not walk from my bedroom to my kitchen without feeling like I had just ran a marathon. My pulmonologist agreed that my condition was rapidly worsening and begged me to give a CPAP another try. I was also switched to the highest dosage of Advair and regular use of my emergency inhaler. My PCP told me to get my A1C down and consider weight loss surgery to expedite my weight loss journey. I was determined to do everything they advised, this way I could prove to them that something more serious was occurring. At this time, I had already quit smoking and began lowering my A1C.

To my surprise, June 30, 2022 it was confirmed that I was pregnant. It shocked me because a couple years ago in 2020 I suffered a miscarriage at 16 weeks. I was advised to consider birth control because my body could not hold a fetus. Well... they were wrong about that one! The doctor confirmed a healthy fetus made it’s way and there was a heartbeat. It was a miracle and I knew God had other plans for me. I prayed every day and every night, thanking my heavenly Father and thy Earthly Mother for all the blessings they bestowed upon me; also asking for guidance, clarity and strength to lead me in the right direction.

I began to communicate with my Perinatologist more as I learned to trust her. During an appointment in September 2022, I opened up and told her,

Doctor, something is wrong with me and I need someone to listen to me. I can’t do my seated exercise anymore and that concerns me. I can’t even walk in place but for 4 minutes, then I have to stop and lay down. I think something is wrong with my heart. I’ve been having these issues before I was pregnant. Please help me. I want to live.

She asked me had I seen a cardiologist. I explained to her that after an urgent care visit in May I was put on a heart monitor for a few weeks but no results were communicated to me. She fought to get my referral to a cardiology approved. My visit with the cardiologist in October is when I was told, I have Pulmonary Hypertension. An ultrasound of my heart confirmed that I had heart disease and heart failure.

My breath was too short for a sigh of relief. The weight on my chest applied pressure instead of being lifted. I was in my third trimester of pregnancy, when a right heart catheterization confirmed my diagnosis in November 2022. Then, the cardiology team with my healthcare provider advised for my care to be transferred to out-of-network team that can provide the care that I needed. I had gained over 40lbs in fluid due to heart failure and my new health team was confident that we could reverse it before labor.

My mother was in fear that she would lose her only daughter. I was in fear that I would never get to hold my daughter. My love was afraid that he would lose me and be alone. My father was scared and speechless. Everything made sense in these moments and everything mattered. It mattered who was there and who wasn't. It mattered where I was and where I was going. It mattered how and why.

3 weeks away from my due date, a team of 20+ assembled in the cardiac care unit to bring Zenobia in to the world. My father waited at home by the phone, my mother waited alone in the labor & delivery room and my love was by my side as they tilted me back and began to operate. After 4 hours of pre-op and 45 minutes of surgery, it was a success. My daughter was born, healthy and strong. Doctors, Nurses and many people stopped by to visit me when I left ICU, curious to meet the miracle baby and her parents. A nurse who was not in my station came to visit and said,

"I hope you don't mind that I came to visit. Although I'm not your nurse, I was on call when the entire floor heard that you were being transferred to the cardiac operating room. Every nurse gathered and we prayed for you. Everyone is celebrating you, a miracle."

My eyes filled with tears and joy. Other doctors and their students came to visit and were glad to see me. Another nurse encouraged me to tell my story and document my journey because it will inspire others. The doctors that worked directly with my care and surgery were impressed, proud and says that I'm their model story.

That was almost 4 months ago in January 2023 but also when my journey began. My team was honest with me, that labor and delivery was the least of their concern. Surviving postpartum, preparing for cardiac therapy and rehabilitation was top priority. I would be lying if I said it is easy. Most days I am sad. Learning to adjust to my new way of life has been challenging and difficult to accept. I promised myself to do all that I can to live, to change and to never give up. Meeting people who have PH and joining the association has been a great help to me and how I learned of World Pulmonary Hypertension Day on May 5, 2023.

One thing I have learned since giving birth with Pulmonary Hypertension is how much time and creating memories mean to me. Also, how important it is to talk about how you’re feeling no matter how that looks for you or how it makes anyone else feel. It’s easy to look down and frown when you’re faced with this challenge. Make the conscious decision today, right now to look up and forward. Be good to yourself and your body. When you need to rest, do so and don’t feel bad for not being able to push through on bad days. You’re a survivor, a PHighter.

I have so much to look forward to. Raising my daughter, therapies and rehabilitation and none of it will be easy but I give praise to the Most High for this blessing. Thank you Lord for blessing every hand that was laid upon me. Thank you for hearing my prayers. Thank you for every person who prayed for me. Thank you for those who have been there and rooting for me. Thank you for giving me the strength and bravery to share what you have done for me and what you will continue to do. Thank you to everyone following me, befriending me and joining me. I got you. Let’s live, let’s fight for a cure.

#worldphday #worldphday2023 #pulmonary hypertension #pulmonary #pulmonology #cardiology #heart disease #lung disease #pregnancy #women health

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ear-worthy · 6 months

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6 Degrees Of Cats Podcast Launches Season Two: Witches, Whiskers & Whisky

Did you know that 29 percent of all households in the U.S. owned at least one cat? That is a potentially large audience for a cat podcast.

I understand that if you are a "dog" person you may not care. Or if you're fascinated by coy ponds or parrots, a cat podcast may not catch your interest.

On Halloween, cats occupy an important mythological significance for this holiday. It is particularly appropriate, then, that I offer you 6 Degrees of Cats. The podcast bills itself as "the world's #1 (and only) cat-themed culture, history and science podcast."

Thankfully, for listeners, the show lives up to its boast.

The podcast launched in Spring 2023 and has returned this Fall on October 31 with its season debut episode, "Witches, Whiskers and Whisky: Re-introducing the Original Cat Lady of Halloween!"

This episode showcases an impressive panel of expert guests, including Dr. Megan Goodwin, host of hit religion and history podcast “Keeping It 101”; culinary historian and author of “Endangered Eating” Sarah Lohman; and Kings County Distillery founder and writer Colin Spoelman.

Listeners have described 6 Degrees of Cats as "educational, thought-provoking, meditative AND fun" and praise host Amanda B.'s hosting as "...not only informative but highly engaging and entertaining". Tink Media's Lauren Passell named “6 Degrees of Cat” as a "...well-written and researched cat show…” and host Amanda B. as “...spunky and and playful with audio."

In this second season,"6 Degrees of Cats" will offer listeners an international lineup of leading voices in fields such as animal welfare, music, history, religion, and even pizza. Notable guests this season include “My Cat From Hell” star Jackson Galaxy, global rock sensation Malina Moye, Islam scholar andHead on History podcast host Ali Olomi, and founding pizza czar Anthony Falco.

Throughout the nine-episode season, new episodes will be released biweekly on all major podcast platforms and YouTube. There is a companion newsletter, "The Captain’s Log," for exclusive bonus content and opportunities, and listeners can subscribe.

6 Degrees of Cats has a lot of things going for it as an ear-worthy podcast. First, it's not a "cat lady" podcast where cat lovers, mostly women, tell super-cute stories about their cat Mittens. The show looks at cats in history, mythology, and culture. For example, I loved the April 25th episode about Vikings and cats. Norse folklore expert Terry Gunnell will fascinate listeners with his tales of cats and the Viking culture.

Second, the podcast has an infectious intro music "Josie & The Pussycats" beat, and the show manipulates sound with purpose and to great effect. I personally commend any podcast that fully uses its greatest asset -- sound. Third, the host, "Captain Kitty" aka Amanda B. is terrific. She's smart, funny, informative, and has endless energy. Amanda B is a Korean American transracial adoptee based in Brooklyn, New York. She was selected into a cohort of 10 out of 18,000 applicants to go through Spotify's first Sound Up podcast accelerator for women and non-binary podcasters of color in 2018. As a musician, she has supported international performing artist Peaches onstage for The Samantha Bee Show’s 2017 Not the White House Correspondents Dinner broadcast, and recently released a sophomore full-length album with her rock ‘n’ roll bandLeathered. Amanda B consults for clients including The Podcast Academy to produce and facilitate community and professional development programs, and volunteers forOkaySo, a free mental health app for young people.

I am a self-confessed cat person. I have two cats, Moogie, an extroverted cream-colored barn cat, and Tinker Bell, a Calico who chips like a "tortie." They both listen with me and give it four paws up.

What I like most about 6 Degrees of Cats is its scholarly intentions toward cats, the hosting skill of Amanda B, and the catchy friskiness of its audio.

#podcast #podcasting #cats #history

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thisisawonderfulusername · 3 years

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almost normal - the apocalypse

five hargreeves x reader

summary: being pregnant in the apocalypse probably isn’t the greatest thing.

warnings: cursing, pregnancy, no baby yet, that will come in part two ;)

word count: 2.1k

a/n: yall asked for it, and i felt like i could do better, so here is your time in the apocalypse after finding out that you’re pregnant and following this we will have a commission chapter and when they get to twenty nineteen. reading the old a/n that i put here is making me realize how long this took me to actually write 🤡 anyways, this is basically what the original was but focused on the apocalypse and much, much more detailed. i’ll stop now, please enjoy!

being the daughter of two people spontaneously born on the first of october in nineteen eighty-nine, you had been gifted with special abilities, just like them. over the years of your life, they were able to teach you how to control these abilities.

by the time you were thirteen, you were able to create an invisible barrier around yourself. of course, it happened unintentionally at times.

one of those times, it protected you at the end of the world. how you wished it hadn’t for the first few years. but you surprisingly weren’t the last person on the face of the earth.

you stood on the doorstep of your home- or what used to be your home. it had crumbled to the ground when the explosion wiped out the entire city, leaving a pile of rubble. it was surrounded by the other houses in the neighborhood, some of which still stood as the flames continued to burn.

this isn’t real.

you pinch your arm so hard that it stings for a few moments afterward, and you start shaking your head. “this isn’t real.” you tell yourself, voice shaking with the fear that this might not be a nightmare.

stepping back from your home, you turned on your heel to run to the closest house that hadn’t collapsed yet. mr and mrs peoples. you didn’t knock, bursting through the front door and rushing through each room that fire was beginning to engulf, searching for any sign of the old couple.

when you got up the stairs and to their room, you stopped dead in your tracks. on the bed, their charred bodies lay next to each other, and you feel your eyes beginning to sting- from the smoke and from what was happening.

the city.

there must be people in the city.

you dash down the stairs as they threaten to collapse, sprinting out of the house and down the road as fast as you can. the route you’ve remembered from walking to school, the one that brought you through the crowded sidewalks.

by the time you get to the most populated part of the whole town you lived in, you’re out of breath, chest rising and falling quickly.

“help!” you shout as loud as you can, starting to walk through the streets, trying not to focus on the buildings that hadn’t made it, the burned bodies on the ground. “please! there has to be someone.” the tears that had threatened you begin to fall, running down your cheeks.

when you get farther down, you see what you think is a real, live person, searching the rubble surrounding him. but you can’t be sure. there’s smoke and your vision is blurry from your tears. “hey!” you shout, beginning to run towards the figure as fast as you can with your labored breathing.

he turns in your direction when he hears your voice, eyebrows raising in surprise. when you stop just before what used to be a building. “please-” you suck in a breath, “please tell me you’re real.”

he was the only reason you managed to survive. you knew now that you never would have made it this far without him.

ten years.

you’ve made it ten years so far, and the only reason the both of you keep going is each other- as well as his hope to find the right equation to get you back to your normal lives in twenty nineteen (and saving the world but that could be discussed later.)

until then, you could try your very best to make an almost normal life for yourselves.

after the first few years of moving across the city- and probably into other states as well, you couldn’t tell for sure- you had grown to have feelings for him. you didn’t know if it was because you two were the only ones left on earth, but you didn’t care. you wouldn’t want to choose anyone else to survive with.

eventually, after a few drinks to celebrate the finding of some wine, when your face was flushed with the alcohol in your system and your brain slightly fuzzy, you ended up kissing him.

the next morning, you woke up cuddled next to him, the empty bottle to your side. it brought butterflies to your stomach, and when he woke up after you, you had summoned the courage to tell him how you felt. you were lucky enough to know that he returned the affection.

you were nineteen then, only six years after the end of the world. and for another four years, you had been together.

on the third year of being together, pushing for survival, you found an old jewelry store.

“do you want to get married?” you call out, eyes squinted slightly from the sunlight and the strain to see him properly.

he turned at your voice, brushing his hands off on his pants. “what?”

grinning, you step over the wall. “i said,” you stop in front of him and reveal the bands, “do you want to get married?”

his eyes fall on the rings and he stays quiet for a moment, before he looks back to you, and your smile grows at the sight of his own.

“in the apocalypse?“ he chuckles softly.

you shrug your shoulders. "we can’t make it, like, official, but if we ever get back…” you press your lips together for a moment, “i think it’ll have more meaning, since we found them here.”

he seems to think about it for a moment, before he holds his hand out to you, and you clap your hands together from the joy you felt.

when you got stuck here at thirteen years old, you didn’t think you’d have anything close to a normal life. but after a few years, you realized that you could try to make it as normal as possible for yourself.

you slide one of the rings onto his finger, the sun’s light reflecting off of the gold. it’s a silent moment, and you could feel your heart beating faster than usual.

once it is snug on his finger, he takes the other from you, taking your hand. “i never thought i’d be getting married in a wasteland.”

chuckling, you watch as he gently puts the ring in it’s rightful place. “i don’t care where we get married. it would be perfect no matter what.”

five looks into your eyes, and you know that you wouldn’t have this any other way. as long as he was with you, you don’t care where you are or what the situation is.

“i love you.” you mumble quietly, bringing your hand to his cheek as you stare into his eyes.

“i guess i love you too.”

you roll your eyes, moving the hand behind his neck to pull him into a loving kiss.

now, it’s been about four months since you’ve ‘married’ five. it didn’t change much about your life, but you could feel that you had a newfound hope. even though you were stuck in an unforgiving world, foraging for food and clinging onto survival, you had five with you.

and now it felt like no matter what happened, he would stay with you. maybe, if you ever did get out of this hell, it could happen for real. that kept you going.

there have been changes, though. for the past three months or so, your ‘time of the month’ never came. at first, you brushed it off. this had happened before- stress could delay it, so you figured that was what it was.

but then it didn’t come the next month, either.

this month, you were beginning to notice a small bump in your belly. you told yourself it could just be you gaining weight from the food you ate, but you couldn’t fool yourself. you can’t eat enough in this world, especially not enough to gain significant weight.

and so the worrying began.

you didn’t tell five at first, keeping the anxiety to yourself as you continued on your treks through the barren land. you would chew on your lip as you walked, and it got to the point where you broke through the skin and it had bled for a bit.

he noticed, but you didn’t know that.

on your next stop for shelter that you would stay in for a few weeks to search for supplies, he brought it up.

“are you okay?” he questions, and it catches you off guard for a moment.

you look up from the book that you had found in the wreckage of an old library. “uh,” you hesitate for a moment, “yeah. yeah, i’m fine.”

trying to get away from his questions, you look back down to the pages of the book as if it would stop him from continuing. from the corner of your eye, you can see how his brows furrowed together.

he was quiet, but only for a moment. “i’ve noticed, you know.” the statement causes your heart to pick up it’s pace a bit, and you hope he can’t see the fear and nervousness that has overcome you.

“noticed what?” you gulp, not daring to look up from the page. you don’t know if it’s the cold air around you, but your eyes are stinging.

five stands from the makeshift seat he had taken on a fallen pillar, moving to your side and sitting in the dirt that was protected from the snow. “you know, you can tell me anything. whatever is wrong, you can say it.”

the book closes as you release it, falling to the ground at your side. “i-” you notice the shakiness in your voice, and you pause for a moment to take a deep breath, “i don’t know how to tell you.”

his arm falls around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. it’s something that has always comforted you, even in the worse days, and he knows that. he knows everything. “just say it.” he tells you softly.

you close your eyes for a few moments, pulling your knees to your chest as you gulp down your fear. “i- i think i’m pregnant.”

a tear that had escaped your stinging eyes rolled down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away on the sleeve of your sweater. it was in vain, as shortly after there were more drops falling down your face.

his momentary silence worries you, and you think if there was a way to screw up everything you've built here, it was this.

“how would you know?” he questions quietly, and of all the questions he could have asked, you think that might be one of the best ones.

sniffling and abandoning the attempt at getting rid of your tears, you take a quick breath. “it’s been a few months since my last... you know,” you begin to explain, avoiding looking at him, “and i’m pretty sure my belly is... getting bigger. and it can’t just be me gaining weight because we don’t eat much.”

you hear him let out a slow breath, and when you look at him in fear for his reaction, he seems to be staring off in thought. you bite on your lip as you try to keep yourself from crying anymore. “five?”

“we’ll figure it out.” he tells you after a moment, and you take in a shaky breath from the statement. “we’ll find a way to make it work.” he runs his fingers through your hair, “we always do.”

his sweet reassurances make your heart skip a beat. it’s unbelievable to you, even after all of the years you’ve been with him.

“god, i love you.” a small sob escapes with the words, but the tears don’t truly show how you feel. you’ve never been so happy.

you’ll get part of the normal life you always wanted as a child. a family.

you were only able to relish in the moment for a few seconds, because five suddenly jolted forward, scaring the life out of you as he grabbed onto the shotgun leaning against one of the walls.

your head turns to where he is pointing it, you saw a woman. but it wasn’t just any woman, no. she wasn’t dressed for the apocalypse like you. she had a clean, properly fitted dress and high heels, her makeup perfectly done.

who the hell is this?

taglists

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

tua: @rasberrymay @noodlextrash @atomicpillar @malfovs @andreasworlsboring101

five taglist: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official @insatiable-ivy @coffee-e-addict @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @colie-babi @flowertoty @avovada @badwolf00593

#the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #five #number five #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #tua x reader #five hargreeves x reader #five x reader #number five x reader

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writesowhatnext · 4 years

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it’s so mysterious to me // george weasley

Summary: life’s a little different when your girlfriend can see the future, isn’t it george?

Request: hi! can i request seer!reader x fred/george? where she sees their futures (weasley's wizard wheezes, yule ball and knows hermione will end up with ron *wink*) but doesn't tell them anything bc changing the future is complicates? but always hints at significant points of their lives. sorry if this is very long 😭

A/N: I cut out part of the request that’s a spoiler :) also it took me like 20 minutes to spell entrepreneurial

Reader: female, seer

Warnings: accidents, death, injury, guilt, parental death, battle of hogwarts

Not knowing the future is hard. Knowing the future? Harder. You hadn’t been alive nearly long enough before you learnt that lesson. The most difficult thing about being a Seer, you see, was not actually seeing the future, but fighting the urge to change it; something you’d learnt the hard way.

When you were about eight years, four months and thirteen days old, you had a vision of your mum falling down the stairs on a Remembrall and like any good daughter, you moved it from the landing and into a box on a high shelf in your Father’s study. You’d felt good the whole day, proud even, to have helped your mother. That happiness didn’t last long, though.

When your Mother’s loud shrieking echoed through the house, and she screamed at you to call an ambulance, that something had hit your Father in the head, you realised that maybe some things couldn’t be changed. The day your dad died you got the world’s biggest reality check; the future, whilst it was yours to see, was not yours to play with. It was a cruel mistress and as you grew up, you realised more and more how complicated it could truly be.

Sometimes, you got a feel for a person; an essence of what they would become somewhere down the line. Mostly, it was just silly things. When you first met Ron, the only thing you saw was him snogging Hermione; a bunch of strange teeth cluttered at their feet. An odd one, it must be said, but you thought it was sweet nonetheless. The first time you met George, though, was like nothing you’d ever felt before.

There you sat, only eleven years old on a magical train to a faraway place where you knew nobody, not exactly filled with confidence. You’d be hard-pressed to say it helped when two young boys with red hair and the same face barrelled into your otherwise empty compartment. They slammed the door shut behind them and ducked to avoid the window, sniggering to each other, obviously unaware of your presence.

You frowned as a few older students raced past, one with red hair looking at you sharply before disappearing down the corridor, leaving you alone with the twins before you. They still hadn’t noticed you and so, with a glance out the window at the country landscape, you cleared your throat.

“Oi, George,” one said, pointing at you and nudging his brother. You offered them a weak smile as they stared at you before one shot out his hand in greeting. He was smiling, rather mischievously, and was still crouching on the floor to avoid anyone spotting him.

“The name’s George,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

And when you took his hand, his palm against yours, you saw a whole life ahead of you. Laughter, dancing, countless nights running away with adrenaline-filled grins. He looked more what your Mum would call handsome the older he got, you thought. It seemed like you’d kiss him a fair few times as well, a fact that didn’t thrill you given the fact that boys had cooties, and all.

You stared at him as you pulled your hand away, looking into his expectant brown eyes with a fair amount on trepidation before a smile lifted your cheeks.

“Y/N,” you said softly. “I think we could be good friends.”

After the train, you, George and Fred, as you learnt the other twin’s name was, became fast friends. It was hard, undoubtedly, to be normal around George sometimes; the more time you spent with him, the faster you realised that he was the love of your life and the worse it became to not do anything about it. Somehow, though, life seemed to do it for you and you spent your nights exactly how you’d imagined: racing down corridors away from the scene of the crime with breathless laughter on your lips and George’s hand in your own. By third year, the kissing had started and Fred, despite being rather fond of you, was not a fan. He groaned like a child constantly, but you could see that he was secretly pleased for his brother deep down.

On one cold night in October, you and George were sat in the windowsill of the Gryffindor common room watching the sky dance with stars.

“Hey, George,” you said quietly, your voice wavering slightly as you leant your head back into his chest and his arm circled around your waist.

“Hey, Y/N,” he replied, teasing.

“Do you know what a Seer is?”

“Don’t know about a seer, love, but I know you’re quite the looker.”

You could hear the grin in his voice as you rolled your eyes, pushing your elbow lightly into his ribs.

“I’m serious, Georgie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, running his hand up and down your arm, placing a kiss into your hair. “Like in Divination, the world’s greatest and most riveting subject.”

You scoffed at his sarcastic tone, pursing your lips.

“I’m a seer.”

The air was still for a moment. His silence gave you enough time to thoroughly regret your decision to tell him, not quite sure what would happen. Gently, he turned you to the side so he could see your face and for a moment, you were struck by the softness of his eyes.

“Are you telling me you can see the future?”

You paused for a second, debating whether it was a good idea to just lie to him. Against your better judgement, you nodded, swallowing.

“You’re having me on,” he shook his head, smiling until he noticed your serious expression. “You can really see the future? Like who wins a Quidditch match or whether someone is gonna fail a test or-“

You nodded and his jaw dropped open, his mouth wide.

“It’s complicated,” you began, sighing slightly. “I can’t just… I can’t just change things. And some things make no sense until they’re happening and-“

“How do you manage to always be the coolest person I know?”

Your mouth grew dry at his words, a small smile playing on your lips as he stared at you, his hand lifting to push your hair away from your face.

“It’s a talent,” you said brightly, settling back into his chest, enjoying the way it vibrated at your joke.

“Have you ever changed anything?”

His face hardened at your shaky inhale and he opened his mouth to take back his question when you answered it anyway.

“A couple times,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his. You let the thought of your Dad weigh on you for a second before you huffed.

“I was supposed to fall for Fred, actually,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood. “I thought ‘Nah’, though.”

“You’re kidding,” George said, his arm tightening around your waist and his voice slightly hesitant as if he wasn’t exactly sure.

“Perhaps.”

You hadn’t meant to tell Fred at all, especially not hours before the Quidditch World Cup, but you and George had been joking and then one thing lead to another and now you were sat down on George’s bed with the twins looming over you like parents scolding a child.

“No,” you said.

“Why not?” Fred huffed, throwing his arms in the air, not at all understanding why you wouldn’t tell him who would win the match.

“No, Fred.”

“But, why not?” he whined, pouting with his hands on his hips. You stood up, rolling your eyes at his childishness.

“Because the future is dangerous and changing it is complicated and if I tell you something, it’ll change the whole future and-“

Out the corner of your eyes, you saw George mouthing along to your words, earning a scowl at his memorisation of your well-practised speech. He tilted his head at being caught, pulling you into his side. You shot him an irritated look only to have him wipe it from your face with a kiss.

“Disgusting,” Fred huffed, moving towards the door. “You pair make me sick, as does your lack of team spirit, Y/N.”

You did break your own rules sometimes, though. Only for special causes, you told yourself. You couldn’t help but think of what you’d seen about Ron and Hermione as they side-stepped around each other the closer it got to the Yule Ball. So, as you sat there in the common room, your shoulder against George’s chest as he picked at your sleeve distractedly, you listened to Harry and Ron complain about not having dates.

“You could always take Hermione,” you suggested, trying very hard to keep your voice indifferent.

“Gross,” Ron huffed, crossing his arms. “I’m not that desperate.”

You rolled your eyes, exhaling from your nose as they returned to their pity party. A finger poked at your side and you looked at George with a frown.

His eyes were suspicious as he smirked at you.

“You know, you get this look in your eye sometimes,” he said quietly so nobody else would hear. “When you know something everyone else doesn’t.”

You pursed your lips, not willing to give yourself away anymore. You turned away from him, stiffening when his hot breath fanned your ear.

“I’m on to you, love,” he whispered, sending a shiver up your back.

You tried to keep certain things on the down-low around George after that; subtlety, as ever, was the name of the game. You gave up trying to push Ron and Hermione together after a while, knowing that your meddling would only make it worse. What you didn’t give up on, though, was Fred and George. You didn’t have to be a seer to know that they would go far with their business; they were smart wizards and despite the headache they often caused Professor McGonagall, you couldn’t fault their entrepreneurial spirit. And though you expected it when they came to you in seventh year talking about leaving Hogwarts, given the fact that you’d tried to discretely push them towards the idea, you were sad to see the back of your two favourite boys.

“You should go out in a blaze of glory,” you said, staring at the floor to not give yourself away. “Fireworks and stuff.”

You’d been seeing bursts of colour for weeks at the thought of it.

“Y/N, that might be the most brilliant idea I have ever heard,” Fred said, shooting you a grin.

“Isn’t it just?” George agreed though he was staring at you with a very knowing look.

He could tell how much the war took its toll on you. He had no idea what it was you were seeing, but his heart ached at how much you were suffering because of it. It was obvious that the guilt of not being able to help was eating you alive and it wasn’t until the night after the Battle of the Astronomy Tower that you truly broke down. When you arrived at his apartment, Fred asleep in the room next door, his heart shattered at the sight of you shivering from the rain and crying so horribly that he thought you would pass out right there.

“George,” you said, gripping on to him like you’d never see him again. “I knew about Bill. I knew he was going to get attacked and I knew the pain he was-“

He shushed you gently, his hand stroking the back of your head.

“I knew, George,” you repeated over and over, your body wracking with sobs.

He thought about his older brother in the hospital and his hold on you tightened.

He didn’t need to see the future to know when the crescendo of the war was coming. It seemed as everything was leading up to this final stand at Hogwarts and though he was scared, it was nothing compared to how worried he was for you. After he lost his ear, you grew more and more unhinged. You never talked to him about it and he knew why, he understood that changing the future would have seriously unpredictable repercussions and he knew that you were haunted by every injury, every death that you didn’t prevent. The most he could do for you was be there and he spent most nights next to you just holding you close as you cried yourself to sleep. He thought they were the worst nights of his life at the time.

“George,” you whispered into the night, too afraid of the morning to look outside and see the sunrise.

“Yes, love?”

His arm pulled you closer and you were grateful for his warmth.

“You know I love you, right?”

A lump formed in George’s throat.

“Of course, I do,” he whispered reluctantly, not ready to hear your answer. “Why?”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

He turned to face you, your eyes shining with tears in the moonlight. He could tell you were lying; he recognised your knowing look.

“I love you too. More than anything else in the entire universe,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead and breathing in your scent. His stomach turned at the memory of the look in your eyes and for the rest of the night, he lay awake, staring at the pattern on the ceiling.

When you reached Hogwarts that next day, everybody was running. Younger students were being ushered to the basements and the elder kids were rushing around with their wands out and enchanted statues were marching out to defend the castle and amidst the chaos, your heart was like lead as you thought about what was to come. George’s hand was heavy in yours and your lie was heavy on your shoulders. You wondered if he’d ever forgive you, either way.

You’d never felt sicker than when Percy arrived. His apology was sweet and you were somewhat relieved to see the Weasleys together again despite the circumstances. It felt like you’d come full circle when Percy’s eyes settled on you, much less sharp than they had been on the train that very first day and you barely listened when Kingsley Shacklebolt divided you into groups; you already knew what your role was. George tugged on your hand.

“What is happening?” he asked, his voice begging you to tell him as his hands rested on your cheeks. You swallowed back a lump in your throat as Colin Creevey caught your eye, his young frame sneaking away from the other students that were too young to fight.

“George, I can’t tell you that,” you said, your eyes lingering on Tonks for a moment.

“Y/N, please,” George whispered. You turned to him when his voice broke and all the sight in the world couldn’t prepare you for the tears running down his face, the redness of his eyes.

“There’s so much pain here,” you said, oddly calm for the first time as you stared at him. You brushed his hair from his forehead with a soft smile and what was left of his heart broke a little more at the look in your eyes.

“Y/N-“ he began, trying desperately to find the words. He could tell that you knew too much at that moment, your young face wise beyond your years.

“I would give you the whole world if I could, Georgie,” you promised, grinning. Your insides scrambled as his shoulders rocked a little, a cry escaping him, but you felt surprisingly light. You looked to the side conspiratorially before learning up to him, his hands on your cheeks dropping as you whispered in his ear.

“We win.”

He frowned, but before he could say anything else, you kissed him hard and he fought the urge to trap you in his arms and not let you go.

“I’ve gotta go help Freddie,” you nodded, shooting him a wink. Your eyes lingered on his face for a moment, his beautiful, broken, handsome face, before you chuckled and shook your head, already walking backwards away from him.

“Your life is exceptional, George.”

He reached for you, but you had already disappeared and he was already being ushered away by Bill, who insisted that he get a move on. He couldn’t shake the thought that you were saying goodbye.

He’d been pacing the Great Hall for the best part of three minutes when he saw his mum. Voldemort had announced the armistice barely five minutes ago and already the dead and injured were being carried in. He played with his wand between his fingers when he thought of his family, not yet returned, and he pulled at the hair on his hair when he thought about you, also missing in action.

“Mum,” he huffed, running over to her and hugging her almost as tightly as she hugged him. “I’m fine, Mum,” he said, grabbing her wrists. “Have you seen Y/N? Fred? Ginny?”

“I’m here,” Ginny said warily, walking over to them along with Arthur and Bill, who each got bone-crushing hugs from Molly. They could tell George was getting antsy after ten minutes passed and there was still no sign of you. Charlie arrived almost uninjured, apart from a scratch down his arm, stopping short at the bodies of Remus and Tonks. George felt bad that he hadn’t noticed them yet, but his guilt was replaced with hope when he saw Percy come in.

He raced towards him, pushing past nurses and the other injured people to meet his brother, who he wasn’t completely sure he even liked until that moment.

“Perc,” he said with his hands hard on Percy’s shoulders. “Are you okay? Where’s Fred? Where’s Y/N?”

“George…” Percy said gently, his hand gripping George’s wrist tightly. He frowned.

“What?”

He felt sick.

“We were fighting-“

“No,” George exhaled, his eyes halting over Percy’s shoulder as Fred walked into the Hall with you in his arms.

He could barely breathe as he yanked his wrist from Percy’s grasp and ran over. Fred’s red, tear-stained face covered in the same dirt that covered you sent a sharp pain through his chest.

“No, no, no.”

George grabbed the back of his brother’s neck when he saw him, pulling lightly at the hairs on his nape. His eyes weren’t on Fred, though.

You looked cold, he thought, and heavy in Fred’s arms. Deadweight. George looked at Fred, a strangled sob ripping from his throat as his other hand fell to your face, rubbing at the icy skin of your cheek.

“No,” he whispered. “She’s fine- she’s fine. She’s not- she’s fine. She’ll wake up.”

“Georgie-“ Fred said, his voice weak as he watched his brother. Right there, in the middle of the hall, George sank to the floor, his hand sliding from Fred’s neck as he pulled at you, desperate to have you close to him. Gently, with a sigh, Fred lowered your body down, placing you into George’s arms as he sat there on his knees.

Molly’s sob rang out through the stone walls as George pressed you to his neck, his hand at the back of your head as his chest heaved. You weren’t hugging him back. Your hand dragged on the dirty floor.

Fred’s guilt gnawed at his gut as his family walked over, hugging him and placing their hands on George’s bucking shoulders in an attempt at comfort. It didn’t work.

“It’s my fault,” Fred said to Ginny as she hugged him, her cheeks wet as she ran her hands through his hair. He didn’t look at her, he just stared at George.

“It wasn’t-“

“She pushed me out of the way.”

Everyone was silent for a moment, the background noise of people milling around more than overwhelming.

“She knew,” George whispered, pulling away from you and placing your lifeless hands into your lap, his fingers trying desperately to rub the dirt from your face. He just wanted to see you smile. He just needed to see that smile. “She knew, Fred. She knew what she was doing.”

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

A Hope to go Home

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader (Spencer’s POV and Vietnam war AU)

Summary: Spencer is drafted for the war and the only thing that helps him get through it is the letters he gets from Reader.

A/N: This is my second fic for my 1250 follower celebration!!! It’s also the third part for my Spencer Reid & Letters series based on this request by @90spumkin 😊 This was super fun to write cause of how much of a history nerd I am! It’s the first time I’ve done a full blown historical AU (besides the series I’ve got coming in the future) Thanks for reading hope y’all like it and requests are open!

Warnings: Talk of violence & Talk of war- this whole fic is kinda loosely based on the prison arc with Spencer, just with an obvious twist

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.6k

When October 28th was called out over the radio my heart dropped deep down into my stomach. I had been huddled next to the men that I worked with that were eligible. I remember distinctly thinking that there was no way that it could ever be me, if I didn’t fully acknowledge the possibility it would be easier to get through.

Then reality decided to slap me across the face.

Out of all the 27 million men that were eligible for the draft, why did I have to be part of the 2.2 million that got chosen?

None of the other men I worked with at the bureau had been called in, besides Anderson though I wasn’t very close with him. Most of them besides Me, Anderson, and Morgan were already too old to be eligible, I envied them immensely.

The looks on their faces told me all that I needed to know. They looked like they were already ready to start planning my funeral. I was glad I had at least been given the rest of the day off so I wouldn’t have to look at their somber faces anymore. At least I’d also get to go home to them early. It would probably be my last day off in a while, maybe ever.

Morgan and I had been pushing to get funding from our bosses for a new department, along with a few others, especially that old timer named Rossi. We had a few working names, chief among them the “Behavioral Science Unit”. Our idea was to create a unit in response to the uptick of violent crimes- especially serial offenders and help catch them by analyzing their behaviors. Most of the bureau thought we were a bunch of cooks, they still viewed our idea to use psychology to help catch criminals as a pseudoscience. I had even considered quitting my position a number of times because of the rampant disregard for people’s rights by the director, J. Edgar. Hoover, who’s questionable investigations caused my stomach to churn regularly.

But, we were getting close to getting that first pile of cash to help us fund a unit and I felt a need to see this project through. It was too important of a project to quit right when we were so close. Even though the actions of the government made me sick, I wanted to help from within, I wouldn’t quit. Though in light of my new circumstances I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to see that pile of cash, let alone be able to name the unit. Maybe I’ll live to see what name they choose, if I get out of Vietnam alive. Though from what I had seen already from the people that came back injured beyond belief, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to get out alive.

Even though I considered myself too weak to be a proper soldier that could be successful in combat, I didn't have any viable exception to the draft and I wasn’t brave enough to dodge. I cursed myself internally for not going for another PHD, I had heard it was rather easy to obtain a waiver if you were a student. However, I felt increasingly guilty for thinking that.

It was a well known fact that the richer you were, the easier it was to get a deferment. And, even though I wasn’t the most well off I still would have been able to afford to get another PHD when many couldn’t even think about getting a bachelors. Plus, I wasn’t even sure what we were supposed to be fighting for anyway. In the last world war there had been a reason. It seemed like no one knew the reason for this one. Was it worth it to see all these men perish? I guess it was for the Washington elite.

As I boarded to leave to a country so few knew anything about or cared to know anything about, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ever come home again. The look on their face when I broke the news to them and their devastation when we had said what may be our last goodbye haunted me. They were smart, arguably just as smart as me, they knew I was most likely marching to my death. I hoped their devastation wouldn’t be the last thing I’d ever be able to remember of them while I bled out in a country I didn’t think we should be fighting against. I hoped I’d be able to come home.

—-

The only thing that was really keeping me going over here, where the sun was so hot I thought I would be incinerated to a crisp like those poor people in Hiroshima and Nagasaki was my hope. Though maybe that was the fear of being bombed by my own country and brushed off as “necessary casualties” talking, all in an effort to put down an enemy most of us didn’t understand.

I waited impatiently under the burning sun tapping my foot repeatedly while someone next to me kept talking. Any other time and at any other place I would’ve been talking just as much as he had. When I first got here and the only person that I had connected with in basic training was almost immediately blown to smithereens. I decided that forming relationships here was futile. It was just easier to keep my head down and hope for home.

It had been quite a long time since I had gotten my last letter, specifically from them. Most of the letters I ended up getting were from them, my mom sent some on occasion but because of her fragile mental health I had told the staff where she was to not tell her where I had gone. My co workers had tried too, mostly at the beginning though when it was somewhat assured I’d still be alive. I think they had lost hope that I’d return, though some had obviously thought that was never going to happen, probably on account for my obviously unathletic stature.

My significant other had been the only one who seemed to hold out hope, even sometimes more than I could muster. That’s why every night I’d look over the letters they had sent me, to help replenish the hope that had been drained throughout the days.

It had been so long though, since I had received my last letter from them. A sense of dread filled the bottom of my stomach over the crippling fear of wondering if they had moved on. I didn’t know how long I’d been here, I stopped counting after a month. Had they stopped bothering to count too? Was it no longer worth it?

“Reid!” My last name was barked at me by the man in charge who I only bothered to learn the name of because I didn’t know I would have gotten in trouble. He barked again at me, “Letter for you!”

My heart caught up in my throat. I hoped the letter would be from them, if it was from anyone else I’m not sure it would bring me any happiness- at least it would be nothing compared to the happiness letters that they sent me made me feel, even if only for a moment.

I scooted off quickly with my letter in hand towards the barracks eager to tear into the letter. I hadn’t flipped over the envelope yet, wanting to wait to see who it was from by myself so I didn’t show emotion in front of the other soldiers. I plopped down on the cot assigned to me, though it was so thin it might as well have been a wooden board. My fingers shook as I tore into the envelope rabidly, I needed to see the words written in their hand. I didn’t know if I could handle this letter not being from them.

“Dear Spencer,”

As soon as I saw those words written in loopy cursive on a creased piece of paper I always felt slightly better. The letter was filled with sweet words and flowery language that most people would scoff at, but it meant the world to me. I wasn’t ok by any means and I didn’t know if I’d ever be fully ok again. But the words ‘Dear Spencer,” made me hope I’d one day go home again.

—

When that fateful day came, it was surreal. It wasn’t until I was back home on U.S soil that I had processed that I was finally going home.

My heart pounded in my chest as I waited to be reunited with them- the streets were crowded with many people. It had been the happiest sight I had been able to see in a long time, people reuniting with their loved ones.

I couldn’t find them in the sea of happiness around me, it made me worry. The last letter I had gotten from them had been a few months ago. I clutched it in my hand like I had clutched onto my hope. I wondered if it had been too long since I had been home.

“Spencer!” My name being called, my first name, not my last as I had become accustomed to overseas. Relief flooded through my veins that had only known anxiety, dread, and fear for so long. I knew who it was instantly and I knew it was time to come home. Maybe they’d let me name the unit now that I was home.

——

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Letters Series: (Group of Unlinked fics about Spencer and letters)

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #mgg #mgg x reader

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 3 years

Text

Gibbous Chapter 9

Chapter Title: The Thought of Fresh Meat Is Making Me Ill

Summary: It was October. A month full of cheer for the macabre. A month where humans gleefully wore the skins of those they saw as monsters. A month that Virgil generally enjoyed. It was the one month out of the year where he felt the most alive. Yet somehow, for this year’s October, he felt dead inside. Like his body had turned into the rotting corpse of a zombie and his soul was somehow still trapped inside.

Pairings: platonic lamp & platonic sleepxiety

Chapter Word-Count: 5503

Warnings: Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Anxiety, Depression, Paranoia, Arguing, Disassociation, Sensory Overload (Yeah this one isn't gonna be a particularly happy one, Virgil Is Spiraling Mentally Big Time)

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Surprise b*tch, bet you thought you saw the last of me! I'm back for my yearly update--this chapter is dedicated to all the lovely comments people have left on previous chapter! Also!! I rewrote a significant amount of Crescent Chapter 3 and added onto Gibbous Chapter 5, the latter you might want to reread as it adds a bit to the opening scene of this chapter.

Chapter title taken from "I know I'm a Wolf" from the Young Heretics!

In books, there was always a perfect, logical sense of progression. Stories were generally told in a three-act structure. The setup, the midpoint and the resolution. The beginning of a story established the protagonist to the reader. It gave you details about their personality, their way of living, their wants and desires. Then the protagonist found themselves upended by an inciting incident.

Something that caused their way of living to never again be the same. Tension grew and grew as they sought to come about a way to continue living. Until it reached a climax, one where after which, they either thrived or withered away. In which case, the story ended as the protagonist returned to a new sense of normalcy.

One that would last until the next inciting incident came along to shake up their world once again.

Once one found this pattern, it was hard to ever see stories the same way again. There were certain things to always expect—things you could decipher before the story’s end. Real life, however, wasn’t quite like that.

Or at least this was what Logan had come to find. Sure, in many ways events in life played out like stories. There was an inciting incident, something that arose tension as one sought to solve the dilemma. It just wasn’t as neatly bound together like a story or even a math equation. Life was messy, complicated—it threw in plot twists or details that critics would claim lazy and unbelievable.

Logan was harshly reminded of this in the case of one Virgil Raine. He couldn’t understand—he was doing everything right, remaining patient and giving Virgil a chance to open up to Logan on his own time. Yet the human shied further and further away, all development he made since working at the library immediately erased. Virgil even shut out all notions of spending time outside work without explanation. It’d been weeks at this point with no result despite the attempts of Logan, Patton and even Remy, who was arguably the closet with Virgil.

Perhaps this was something that should be expected. Virgil rarely spoke about his past, but what little he shared, he had to fend mostly for his own from a young age. Whoever hurt Virgil caused him to believe again he couldn't rely on anyone but himself.

Logan was not a particularly violent person. He'd been ignorantly cruel once upon a time, yes, but even back then he wasn't one to have the urge to kill people. The wolfish part of him begged to differ, as always. His instincts howled at him to find that person and tear them limb to limb. Better yet, they demanded he snatch Virgil away and bring him against his will to the pack, to safety. As much as Logan wanted this, logically he knew Virgil might never fully trust Patton or himself ever again despite their good intentions. Illogically, he couldn’t bring himself to do the one thing he swore he’d never do again, even if it was for Virgil's safety.

He pondered this, sitting in front of a mountain of paperwork. It was late, too late for him to still be at the library. He couldn’t bring himself to move from his desk, not until he figured something out. He gnashed sharpened teeth in agitation, gripping his hair with claw-like fingernails. It didn't help that normally this time of the month, his cognitive thinking skills were usually in a different state of being. If he wasn't careful, the cleaning staff might find a wolf rampant in the library the next morning.

His phone rang just then, some meme-related ringtone Roman picked out that he’d found funny. Logan snatched it up and answered it.

“Patton, listen, I will be home soon I am just finishing up—”

“I’m not Patton,” The person on the other line cut in, “It’s me, Remy.”

“Oh,” Logan cleared his throat, thrown off by this revelation, “is something the matter?”

“Yeah, something’s the matter alright,” Remy said, his voice hoarse, “I fucked up big time with Virgil.”

It was October. A month full of cheer for the macabre. A month where humans gleefully wore the skins of those they saw as monsters. A month that Virgil generally enjoyed. It was the one month out of the year where he felt the most alive. Yet somehow, for this year’s October, he felt dead inside. Like his body had turned into the rotting corpse of a zombie and his soul was somehow still trapped inside.

He supposed it had something to do with how September slipped from his fingers much in the way that his phone slipped from Jerad’s fingers. Falling all the way down, down, down, breaking upon the asphalt below into a million tiny pieces. Tried as he might, the memory haunted him in the waking world as well as his dreams.

Only, in his dreams, sometimes it was him that fell to the ground. Like a shoddy version of Humpty Dumpty. Remy, Patton and Logan would try to fix him to no avail. They’d always leave, scoffing that it wasn’t worth it. He couldn’t cry or reach out towards them, begging for them to return. He could only lay there, broken and bleeding, watching as they abandoned him. Sometimes Roman showed up to gloat, mocking him for thinking they ever cared for him.

The worst thing about it? He knew it was going to happen in real life. It was only a matter of time. Even Jerad knew this.

“C’mon, you really want to hang out with them and not me, your friend?” Jerad scoffed, “what have they done for you? Have they helped out you when you couldn’t pay rent? Replaced your shitty phone for the best smartphone out there?”

“Well no but—”

“Face it, V-Man, they’re using you. They set you up with a new job, making you beholden to them and it’s sickening! They don’t actually care about you. Once they’ve had their fun jerking you around, they’ll just throw you out with the garbage. And I don’t want you coming to me, bawling like a baby, when it happens!”

As much as Jerad was a jerk, Virgil knew deep down he was right. He’d been so ecstatic at their displays of friendship, he didn’t even stop to consider it was all a façade. Maybe they themselves thought it was real, that they actually cared for him. But eventually they’ll realize the truth. That he’s a loser and nothing more.

Or maybe they already knew the truth and were merely toying with him. Virgil was just a human, mortal through and through. Remy, Patton and Logan were all near-immortal, unkillable save a well-placed piece of silver and a stake of wood in Remy’s case. At least with Jerad, he was honest. He knew Virgil was a loser and made it clear he only hung out with Virgil because it was better than nothing.

Jerad had been nice to Virgil lately—or nice as Jerad could be at least. He’d insisted on occasionally giving Virgil rides to and from work. An offer Virgil couldn’t refuse—no matter how hard his heart thudded against his chest with Jerad’s sharp swerves and his blaring car radio. He taken to asking about Virgil’s day even, asking where he’d been and what he’d been doing. He even took Virgil out to bars and clubs in an attempt to get him to loosen up.

Virgil wanted to tell him he’d rather set himself on fire than willingly enter a noisy nightclub. However every time his lips went to form those words, he found himself saying yes always. So that was how he found himself dissociating in a noisy nightclub, holding onto a pink-colored alcoholic beverage he faked taking a sip from.

A hand knocked jokingly against his forehead. “Yo, Virgin!”

Virgil blinked, his gaze blearily onto Jerad. It was hard to concentrate with all the flashing lights and loud music. He wanted to crawl underneath his beloved purple fleece blanket in his dark, silent bedroom and never leave. But he couldn’t leave just yet. Jerad had been nice to take him along to the club. If he’d asked leave now, he’d get upset. He knew eventually Jerad would get upset at him for something, but he preferred to delay that as long as possible.

“Yeah?” Virgil mumbled, curling his fingers tighter around the alcoholic drink that had been hoisted upon him. Jerad knew he didn’t like alcohol—it was something he ridiculed Virgil about constantly. He always insisted on Virgil drinking, saying he’d stop being a pussy and man up eventually about it.

“Are you high or something? You looked like you were seeing into the third dimension or something.”

Virgil shrugged. Jerad laughed at that, patting him on the back. Virgil tensed from each thud of Jerad’s hand, but he did not flinch or move away. It was a friendly gesture on Jerad’s part. If he wanted to really hurt Virgil, he would’ve put more force behind it.

“Probably not! You’re too much of an anxious wimp,” Jerad said, downing the contents of his drink, “but let me know if you ever get man enough to try it—your good friend Jerad has connections.”

“Okay.” Virgil said, his voice sounding far off in the distance to his own ears.

Jerad laughed again, and then started rambling about something probably among the lines of his most recent hookup, his parents being jerks for not giving him a new sports car or the latest college professor he deemed a complete idiot. Virgil stared at him, nodding all the right moments yet barely processed any of the words being directed his way.

Even with lungs filled with air and a warm beating heart, Virgil felt nothing. He was nothing. A worthless sentient waste of space. Like an ugly mutt nobody wanted that should be euthanized to end its miserable existence.

His phone—the replacement one Jerad gave him—vibrated in his pocket. A text, no doubt from one of the others. The fourth one this night. Virgil’s hand twitched, refraining from looking at it in the presence of Jerad. Virgil didn’t feel like losing a second phone within a month of the first.

“Um, hey,” Virgil interrupted, wincing, “I gotta go use the bathroom, is that alright?”

“’Is that alright?’” Jerad mimicked in a high pitch tone, “Dude, is this elementary school or something? You want a hall pass? Me to hold your hand the whole way there?”

Virgil stared at him.

Jerad rolled his eyes, “Go ahead, whatever. I don’t care if you take a dump, just be quick with it.”

“Thanks.” Virgil bit out, running off before Jerad could change his mind.

He twisted and pivoted around the crowd of sweaty, glistening bodies wearing skimpy clothing. The bright neon lights and loud music warped around him like something out of a nightmare. Eventually he made it to the restrooms and locked himself in the nearest stall. The pulse of his heart roaring in his ears, he drew the phone of his pocket.

Four New Text Notifications from Patton

Patton: [Image of a black cat that looked approximately a year old. It appeared to be nestled close to Patton’s chest, staring up at the camera in wide-eyed stare.]

Patton: Look at what I found on my evening walk! Isn’t she the cutest??

Patton: I’m trying to convince Logan to let me keep her. Maybe you can come visit tomorrow and meet her??

Patton: It’s ok if not! I know you’ve been busy and I want to let you know I’m here for you, you can come to me about anything okay?

Virgil’s vision blurred a bit. He didn’t understand it. Why hadn’t Patton given up already? It’s been weeks since he’s sent Patton a text. He’d been terrified, too, really. And in the few times he ran into Patton at the library, he made excuses and scurried the other way.

Logan was at least kind enough to exchange a few pleasantries and keep their verbal interactions work-oriented. And Remy? They still delved deep into discussions about their taste in music but there was an awkward unspoken agreement not to bring up what happened that one morning. Virgil also shied from hanging outside of work, hoping Remy would eventually forget about him. It seemed to be working; Remy hadn’t offered to hang out in about a week or so.

But Patton? Patton seemed determined to stay in contact with Virgil, sending his dumb silly memes and cute animal videos. He sent good morning and good night texts, while making sure Virgil knew he could respond to them on his own time. On one hand, it made sense—this was the same Patton who saved a complete stranger’s life for literally no reason. On the other hand, he wished Patton would give up. It would made things easier, make it hurt less for everyone.

His phone buzzed with a new text notification.

Jerad: Dude, did you fall in or something?

Virgil swallowed, wiping away any stupid tears running down his face. As he typed a response to Jerad with shaky hands, the bathroom door slammed open, banging against the wall. He almost dropped his phone in the process, silently cursing at how close he’d been to breaking yet another phone.

Several loud booming voices filled the bathroom, peppered with obnoxious laughter every half second. Virgil shut his eyes, resisting the urge to cover his ears also in the process. The noise was too much. It was too much in the club outside, but all those voices echoing off the small crammed walls of the bathroom made Virgil want to scream.

The door creaked open yet again, the voices venturing away from Virgil. Good, they were leaving so Virgil could finally self-destruct in peace. Or so he thought, as a set of footsteps stopped abruptly, wavering. The club music blasted from the doorway, drowning out whatever discussion took place.

Then the door swung shut, the roaring club music muted once more. Virgil waited, breath catching in his throat as the single set of footsteps took a couple strides towards him. Oh god, this was how he was going to die, wasn’t he? This was probably some serial killer with an obsession of killing people in night club restrooms.

This was, of course, the moment his phone started vibrating in his hand. A call. Someone was calling him in the final moments of his life. Virgil looked down at the caller id; Remy. His heartrate spiked, dancing so painfully close to what a heart attack must feel like. Why was Remy calling him? Was he at last going to tell him he was done with Virgil forever?

Virgil almost wanted to ignore the call. But then he glanced at the black boots hovering near his stall and gave it a second thought. If this was going to be how his life ended, it’d probably be best to say goodbye to someone at least. Sucking a breath in, he pressed the green phone icon and held the phone to his ears.

“Hi?” He whispered.

“Hey Virgil,” Remy said, echoing oddly in Virgil’s ears, “what are you up to tonight?”

Virgil glanced down at the black boots menacingly close to his stall, “Umm, I’m just home, chilling.”

“That’s a lie, Hon. I know you’re hiding in a stall of this bathroom.”

“W-what are you talking about?” Virgil couldn’t breathe.

Remy sighed, sounding so similar to the person outside the stall, “Please, let’s talk face to face, alright?”

This was some sort of trick to lure him out of the stall, wasn’t it? Still, with the hand not clutching tightly to his phone, he reached out and unlatched the stall door.

Remy stood there, expression hidden under his black shades. His hair was slicked back with gel, shimmering with a glitter of some sort. He wore his iconic black leather jacket with a black crop top underneath. His whole outfit was black, in fact, down to his ripped jeans and the ankle-length boots. Virgil had seen him wear something similar before to a college event he’d taken Virgil to.

“W-what are you doing here?” Virgil demanded.

“I could ask you the same,” Remy responded, eyebrows raised above his shades, “this isn’t your scene, Virge. What are you doing here?”

“I’m not answering unless you answer.” Virgil said, trying to ignore how much he sounded like a toddler.

“A few of my homies from the art program wanted to celebrate the end of mid-terms. This is the night club most of the college body hangs at.” Remy crossed his arms.

“And how did you know I was in here?”

“A few keen observations,” Remy mustered a thin smile. He tapped his nose for emphasis before drawing his finger close to his lips. Virgil’s eyes widened in understanding. Vampire senses, then. “But mostly, I’d recognize those faded converse of yours anywhere.”

“O-oh.”

“I answered your question, now it’s your turn, Virge.”

“I…” Virgil said, the rest of his words strangled in his throat. His phone buzzed in his hand; another impatient text from Jerad no doubt. He didn’t bother to look at it, choosing to focus on taking a breath in rather than going unconscious from a lack of oxygen.

He could tell Remy the truth. That he’d gone with Jerad—his roommate whom he used to complain to Remy about all the time. But then Remy would ask why he was with Jerad and then—well. Then Virgil would have tell him what happened the time he found him the night his phone broke and well, Virgil wasn’t ready for that. He couldn’t tell Remy about his humiliating mistake.

“I…went here to have a good time completely by myself.” Virgil withheld himself from wincing because wow that didn’t sound weird or suspicious in the slightest, “So you can go catch up with your friends or whatever, I’m good hanging out right here.”

“Right here, in the restroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Honey,” Remy said, his voice washed with some emotion Virgil couldn’t identify, “Let’s ditch this shithole and go somewhere else.”

“W-what—but your friends—” Virgil stammered.

“—will be fine without me. N-G-L they’ll probably too trying to give themselves alcohol poison even realize I’m gone,” Remy shrugged his shoulders, “besides, you don’t seem as gucci as you say you are in here and it’s been a while since we really hung out hung out, y’know?”

Virgil stubbornly directed his gaze away from Remy, jaw tightening. It had to be okay, didn’t it? Jerad was most likely to get too drunk to even coherent colors, let alone that Virgil slipped off without him. Maybe he wouldn’t be mad. Maybe he wouldn’t fly into a rage and come close to hanging him off a balcony. Besides Remy would be even more suspicious if he said no.

Virgil sighed, holding the home button on the phone until it shut off completely. That way he wouldn’t have to deal with Jerad calling him, demanding to know where he’d disappear off to, despite ditching Virgil all the time without warning.

“Alright, fine.”

Remy smiled, his teeth looking a little too sharp for Virgil’s liking. Wordlessly he turned aside and reached for the bathroom door.

Virgil swallowed, shoving the phone in his pocket to be forgotten about. Tried as he might, he still flinched as lively blare of the club’s music and flashing lights greeted him with full force. He froze, cowering before the threshold of the door. A hand landed on his shoulder, soft and gentle.

“Virgil?” Remy asked, his brows furrowing together.

Molten lava settled in the pit of Virgil’s stomach—pity. That was the expression on Remy’s face he couldn’t identify at first. He didn’t want pity; Virgil knew what pity meant. He didn’t want pity of any kind, it reminded him too much of the foster parents that looked at him like he was some feral dog that could be whipped into obedience. And sure, Remy had never hurt him but it didn’t mean Virgil forgotten about that morning spent at Remy’s dorm a month back.

Eyes lit up with a burning, controlled fire. Words hissed through a clenching jaw, “Tell me their name and I’ll beat them up for you.”

If Remy was willing to hurt who he deemed as threats to Virgil, who’s to say he wouldn’t be willing to hurt Virgil? To reprimand Virgil, to let him know how much of an idiot he was being? It sounded absurd, even now, because he’d known Remy for almost a year. Remy had plenty opportunities up to now to do something and hadn’t. Yet he was a vampire; years were nothing to him. He had plenty of time to wait for Virgil to slip up in some way and make his irritation known.

And Virgil knew by now to expect the other shoe to drop in a relationship—it was why he distanced himself, isolated himself to solely to work and his cramped little room at the apartment. He was foolish to believe Remy, Patton and Logan were different. Logan and Patton especially—what was he thinking? Patton saved him, sure, but Logan had been hellbent on locking him in their basement for the eternity of time. Why had ever he allowed himself to accept their apologies, to believe something was going right in his life for once?

“I’m fine.” Virgil snarled, shoving himself forward. It was like marching into a warzone, the music assaulted his ears and rattled uncomfortably against his chest cavity. He grimaced, keeping his eyes towards the floor, away from the flashing lights. He stopped a bit before the ocean of bodies that stood between them and the entrance.

He knew if he looked up, he could make out the back of Jerad’s shirt from his spot at the bar. Stupid, this was so stupid. Why had he allowed himself to get talk into this by Remy? There was no doubt in his mind that Jerad would catch him trying to leave and rightfully demand why he was ditching him for Remy. It was a shit thing to do, after all.

Friends don’t ditch one another without explanation. Jerad left him, sure, but he always had an explanation after the fact. Virgil didn’t think Jerad would like his explanation very much. Especially when it involved Remy, one of the people Jerad had been trying to warn him about.

A hand gracefully looped itself around one of his own, tugging him off to the side rather than through the crowd. Virgil looked to see Remy guiding them towards a set of doors, ones clearly marked for employees only.

“Remy—”

“Shhh, this is a faster way outta here, trust me.” He said, flashing a smile. Perhaps it was meant to be comforting but for Virgil it only caused his stomach to churn.

Right before they made it to the doors, an employee materialized in front of them. “Excuse me, sirs, you’re not allowed back here—”

“Cindy, gurl, remember me, Lansing? Worked here last summer? Do you remember, yeah?” Remy lowered his shades to take a look at her. Virgil peered behind him, unable to view Remy’s face. He could see Cindy’s face, however. Her face pinched up in confusion, frowning, before abruptly smoothening out with a wide grin stretched from ear-to-ear. She looked right at Remy, her gaze shifting entirely off of Virgil as if he no longer existed.

“Lansing, oh! Oh yes, I remember.” Cindy said, with a high-pitched laugh. Virgil shrunk further back into Remy’s shadow, squeezing Remy’s hand tightly. Something was wrong and he didn’t like it. Remy never mentioned working as a bartender—and that wasn’t quite something Remy would be quiet about. Virgil could just picture the outrageous bartending stories he’d have if that was the case.

Remy laughed along with her, light and airy.

“Good, then can ya do a fellow former co-bartender a favor and let us slip through, just this once?”

“Gurl, of course, just if you caught don’t let Gregory know I was the one that let you pass.” She leaned in conspiratorially, face twitching a bit.

“Oh don’t worry, you won’t see us again, in fact forget that you even saw us. I’d love to stay and catch up, but I bet you have things to do.”

She laughed again at that. “Yes, of course. It was nice seeing you, Lansing, but I have to go.”

Cindy hurried off, quickly dissipating through the crowd. Virgil blinked; what the fuck? What the fuck was that—

He didn’t even have time to process the encounter before Remy led them into the dimly lit back hallway of the nightclub. Whether it was a faster way out of the nightclub was debatable. For all his talk about previously working there, Remy seemed just as lost as Virgil in the winding hallway. He led them one direction, only to immediately pivot down the other way.

Remy wasn’t talking. Remy was always talking endlessly, as if speaking was as vital as oxygen to him. He was terrible at whispering too—something Logan would get on him about at the library. That was why he was usually stuck on front desk duty to speak with patrons, helping out at events or doing organizational work in the back office. For Remy to be this silent, like the brooding calm before a storm, well. Virgil’s lungs wanted to seize up right then and there.

Eventually, they made to a door that opened out to an alleyway, right where the night club kept its dumpster. The moon gleamed from her perch in the sky, nearly full but not quite. Like a cookie with a bite taken out of it. Virgil knew there was terms for the different phases of the moon. His mother loved taking him out to see the night sky. She’d point out the constellations and tell him what phase the moon that night was.

He wished he could remember, for her sake, what they were. Considering he knew actual werewolves, you’d think he pay better attention to it. But it was a topic Virgil never felt brave enough to venture and one that neither Patton nor Logan opened up much on their own about.

He stared at the moon, transfixed, that he almost forgotten the reason he was outside in the first place. Not until Remy murmured something before attempting to lead him off somewhere. The gaping dread from moments prior seized hold of him once more.

“No!” Virgil snapped, yanking his hand out of Remy’s grip. He stumbled backwards a few steps, slamming himself into a wall of the building in the process.

“Virgil?” Remy asked, frowning as he took a step forward.

“What the hell was that back there?”

“What do you mean—”

“Don’t act stupid!” Virgil demanded, taking a shaky breath, “That lady—Cindy—you did something, I—I don’t know, she was acting weird! And—and you were acting weird! So I’m asking again; What. The Hell. Was. That?”

Remy stared at him, his breath hitching, “Virgil, I was just trying to get you to a quiet place ASAP before you—”

“You’re still not answering the question.” Virgil cut in, his intestines tightening themselves into knots over it. Because maybe this was just a classic case of Virgil paranoia striking again. Maybe he really was driving himself into a panic attack over nothing. Maybe he was accusing Remy unjustly.

Yet, if that was the case why would Remy flinch if Virgil struck him physically with his words?

“Virgil,” Remy said slowly, “I need you not to panic and hear me out, ok?”

Virgil’s heartrate accelerated. Not panic, not panic?! What did Remy expect but for him to panic at those words?

“Okay.” Virgil said, definitely panicking.

“What have you’ve heard about vamps?”

“That they—you drink blood. And your reflection doesn’t show up in mirrors—and—and if you get bitten by a vampire, you’ll either turn into one or get mind controlled.”

“All technically true, well I mean—there’s a fuck-ton more to the turning process than that—” Remy cut himself off, “That’s beside the point. The point is, what you call mind-control, we call ‘enthralling.’ Enthralling is…”

“Is what?”

“Enthralling is, well. It’s a form of hypnosis. Anyone enthralled by a vampire is mostly aware of it and the least likely they are to follow a vampire’s suggestions, the more likely they are to fight against the hypnosis. And it can be activated through eye-contact which is what I did to Cindy.”

Virgil couldn’t breathe. Suddenly pieces were slotted together in mind, forming a picture Virgil never wanted to envision. That faint but visceral memory of Remy with red eyes, the natural charisma Remy held with anyone he met, how Remy managed to steal confidential information from Virgil’s employee file in the back office of Kirby’s Burgers—all of it. He thought Remy, out of anybody, was safe. Past his sassy, laidback exterior, Remy was honest, willing to speak his mind about anything and everything.

If Remy enthralled a complete stranger without blinking an eye—who’s to say he wasn’t above doing it to Virgil? Who’s to say he hadn’t enthralled Virgil into being his friend? Who’s to say Virgil wasn’t an oblivious mouse in a game of cat and mouse? Oh gods, this had just confirmed all of Virgil’s worst fears and more.

“Virgil—” Remy said, reaching out, his eyes hidden beneath his shades. He continued speaking, a mumble jumbo string of excuses probably. Virgil couldn’t stand to stay around and listen to it.

“Stop—just don’t—” Virgil stuttered, taking one step and then another towards the open sidewalk. What was just a few steps then became a few hundred until he found himself leaning against the door to the apartment, hands shaking to slot the key to unlock it.

A few more steps he was inside, the usual musty smell an unexpected comfort. He sat on the couch, seconds stretching into eternity. He half-expected Remy to have chased after him, demanding Virgil to listen, why couldn’t you just listen, you’re so stupid no wonder you’re pathetic—

Virgil blinked a few times, his eyes burning with some sort of irritation. For some reason, Remy let him go. He couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing. His head ached and so did his ears for some reason.

Jerad entered the apartment a few millennia later. Virgil froze at the rattling doorknob, his hand clutching onto his phone in his pocket.

“There you are, you fucker!” Jerad drawled, stumbling over in a drunken stupor. His hand moved towards Virgil, but not with a closed fist. Instead he patted him on the back like earlier, “I can’t believe you did it! You finally got the balls to go and hook up with somebody! I guess I can’t call you Virgin, now huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Virgil murmured, not correcting him on that assumption. He sat there, a bit of tension draining from him. Jerad wasn’t mad for abandoning him. Jerad was still a jerk, but at least Virgil mostly knew what to expect of him. It wasn’t ideal, but that was life. It was better to deal with the devil you knew, then the devil you didn’t know. Virgil was stupid to have ever thought otherwise.

“My parents are being such dicks at the moment,” Jerad said, precipitously changing topics as per usual of him, “sometimes I wish I didn’t have to wait until they were dead to take my inheritance and do what I want to do, y’know?”

Virgil didn’t really know. Did his parents leave him money? They had to have had some sort of savings stashed away. A life insurance of some sort, right? It wasn’t like they were poor. He never thought about inquiring into that. Jerad accidentally slapped Virgil across the arm with a huge hand gesture, still ranting about something. Maybe it wasn’t an accidental hit.

Virgil didn’t know. His tether on reality felt weak, like a balloon close to floating away into the stratosphere. He almost wished he could float away, but the weight in his chest said otherwise. Jerad passed out not long after his rant, slumped half on the floor and half on the sofa. Virgil took this opportunity to slip into the comfort of his bedroom and turn on his cellphone once more.

Seventeen new text notifications and five missed calls from Jerad greeted him, along with one new text notification from Logan. He clicked on Logan’s and his conversation, staring at Logan’s text at the bottom of it.

Logan: Virgil, Remy wanted me to inform you that he is taking a leave of absence from work. Please let me know if you need to take a leave of absence as well or need to confide in somebody as a friend, Patton or I would be happy to listen.

Virgil stared at it some more. Then he tapped out a short response, set the phone on the stool that was his makeshift nightstand and collapsed headfirst into his mattress.

Virgil: K thanks, I’m fine

A/N: Hope everyone is doing well, if you enjoyed the chapter please consider leaving a comment--it's completely free and helps me out as a fanfic writer a ton! I'm technically not in the Sanders Sides fandom anymore, but I still have a lotta fondness for this fic and I will finish it, even if takes me ten years to do so :') -Kat

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #remy sanders #kat writes #werewolf au #long post

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch56: Worthy

Intro: A few weeks post the Time Heist the team are finally ready to reverse the snap. The only problem is, when you mess with time it tends to mess back…

Warnings: “Language!”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Another huge thanks to @angrybirdcr for her edits…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 55

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

October 2023

Katie walked over to the dresser in Nat’s room and smiled at the photos that stood on the shiny, dark wood surface. There were a few shots that stood in frames, one of Nat with Clint, Laura and the Kids, one of her, Katie and Pepper at Tony’s wedding, but it was the biggest one that she reached out to pick up. It was a photo that Katie had taken in her and Steve’s back garden a few months before on Jamie’s third birthday. Nat had Jamie balanced on her hip and Emmy to her other side, arm round the teens shoulder. She was smiling, happily at the camera, almost like she had no care in the world.

“Hey.” A soft voice spoke behind her and she turned to look at Steve, already dressed in his Captain America suit. “I’m not even gonna ask how you got in here.” “I already had access.” Katie shrugged, replacing the photo back down. “She had access to ours as well, although she never used it much, especially not after that time she walked in on us on the couch and got an eyeful of your ass going ten to the-“ “Yeah, yeah, I remember.” Steve snorted, leaning on the doorframe, the pink tinge spreading up his neck to his cheeks as he recalled the incident. They’d been going at it pretty furiously when Nat had walked in. There had been a lot of yelling, shrieks, giggles and one strategically placed throw cushion as he had stood up and reversed hastily to the bedroom out of view. “She told me she needed four bottles of bleach for her eyeballs.”

Katie sniggered before she sighed. “I miss her, Steve.”

“I know.” He said gently, walking into the room and she melted into his arms. “I wish I could tell you it goes away but it doesn’t. You just learn to live with it. I promise it will get easier though.” Katie smiled at his words. She knew full well what living with grief was like, they’d done it enough over the past five years but he wasn’t trying to be patronising, merely trying to lend her some comfort and she loved him for that.

“Given that Halloween isn’t for another two weeks I take it you’re dressed in your Spangles for a reason?” She pulled back and Steve nodded.

“We’re ready.” He gave her a significant look.

Katie let out a breath. They’d been working on the gauntlet now for the past few weeks. Thor, Rocket, Tony and Banner all spending hours at a time in the lab. Given that the Time and Soul stones were the only ones they had in their true gem form the first challenge get the others into the same state. For the most, all that meant was smashing open the various items they were contained within- namely the Tesseract, Sceptre and Orb. But even that had to be done in a controlled way so no stone was damaged or disturbed. Then, a slightly trickier task, they’d had to figure out how to solidify the Aether. Thor had been extremely nervous about this given his history with it and how it was able to “consume” people it decided to use as hosts. After days of brainstorming and various ideas they dismissed, Tony had come up with the idea of using the 3D printer to create a vessel, using a scan of one of the other stones.

“So, err…it’s time?” Steve nodded. “Everyone’s meeting in the lab.” He nodded to the photos on the side. “Time to make her sacrifice worthwhile.”

Katie followed his eye line and nodded. “Yeah,” she turned back to him, “I’ll go grab my suit.” He bent down to give her a soft peck on the lips and watched her go before he cast a cursory glance around the room. It was a little untidy, but that had been Nat all over. ‘Organised chaos’ she had described her nature as.

“You weren’t wrong, Widow.” Steve smiled gently, before he turned and shut the door behind him, striding back to the lab.

He arrived just in time to see Tony stood by the glass case housing the Gauntlet, his hand carefully manipulating the machines to cautiously place all six stones in their respective places within the glove.

“Boom!” Rocket let out a yell and both Tony and Bruce jumped a little. Tony turned to glare at the raccoon who was sniggering at his joke.

Steve rolled his eyes, he still wasn’t sure about the animal but he couldn’t deny he’d been useful, his knowledge filling in a lot of gaps they had.

“Asshole.” Tony grumbled as Steve crossed the room to pick up his helmet which was lying on a desk. Tony looked up at him. “You find Kiddo?” “Exactly where I thought she’d be.” Steve nodded. “She’s gone to suit up.” It wasn’t long before she returned with Clint and Scott. Scott was already in his Ant-Man suit, Clint in his Hawkeye get up and Katie in her leathers, the bangle that contained her Supernova suit gleaming on her wrist. Steve’s eyes travelled over everyone as they checked their various bits of equipment, and he took a deep breath, nervous excitement coursing through his veins.

Everything they had been through over the past five years and, more recently, the sacrifice their best friend had made all came down to this. A literal snap of the fingers.

Eventually, a silence fell over the room as everyone crowded round the gauntlet. A quick headcount told Steve they were one short, and he didn’t mean Natasha either. Nebula was absent but he assumed she was elsewhere at the request of Tony for some reason, maybe doing some checks in other areas. He was about to ask when Rocket spoke up.

“All right. The glove’s ready.” His arms folded across his chest. “Question is, who’s gonna snap their freaking fingers?”

“I’ll do it.” Thor spoke immediately and they all turned to face him, Lang speaking the words at the forefront of Steve’s mind.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s okay.” Thor nodded, heading towards the gauntlet where he was immediately met with a barrage of protests from around the room.

“No, no, no, whoa.”

“Stop. Stop.”

“Wait a sec. Hey, hey!”

“Wait, wait, Thor, just wait.” Steve shook his head gently, his arm reaching out to stop the God before he put his arm in the glove. “We haven’t decided who’s gonna put that on yet.”

“I’m sorry. What, we’re just sitting around waiting for the right opportunity?” Thor snapped back.

“We should at least discuss it.” Katie nodded, trying to appease him.

“No, no, sitting here staring at that thing is not gonna bring everybody back.” Thor looked at her, shaking his head. “I’m the strongest Avenger, okay? So this responsibility falls upon me. It’s my duty.”

“It’s not about–“

“It’s not that– Stop it! Just let me!” Thor pleaded as he started to get teary eyed. Katie took a breath as she could almost feel the guilt that was radiating off him in waves. “Just let me do it. Just let me do something good. Something right.”

“Look, it’s not just the fact that that glove is channelling enough energy to light up a continent, I’m telling you, you’re in no condition.” Tony shook his head.

“He’s right, Thor.” Katie looked at him. “Let’s just think about it, please?”

“What do you-“ Thor shook his head as he looked at Katie, his blue eyes then flicking to Tony “What do you think is coursing through my veins right now?”

Katie took a deep breath and crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking at Steve who mimicked her action subconsciously, shaking his head slightly.

“Cheez Whiz?” Rhodey supplied from the side of the room. Thor pointed at him, shooting him a glare but all Rhodey did was shrug.

“Lightning.” He stated simply.

“Lightning won’t help you, pal.” Banner spoke softly, as everyone turned to look at him “It’s gotta be me.”

Katie glanced at Steve who was frowning a little, his attention completely on the large hulk of a man who gave a small shrug.

“You saw what those stones did to Thanos. It almost killed him. None of you could survive.” Banner’s eyes were focussed on the red gauntlet as he walked towards it.

“How do we know you will?” Steve questioned as Banner passed him by.

“We don’t. But the radiation’s mostly gamma,” he stated, in a matter of fact way, his eyes still on the gauntlet, as he clearly contemplated. With a smile he turned to look at Katie, then Tony as he spoke again. “It’s like….uh…I was made for this.”

Katie’s head whipped round to look at Tony, before they both glanced back at Banner who smiled at them again, the siblings instantly understanding what he was referring to.

“You know, I’ve got a cluster of shrapnel, trying every second to crawl its way into my heart.” Tony said, pointing at the Arc-Reactor in his chest as he walked towards Bruce “But this- this stops it. This little circle of light”

“Because that’s the same…” Katie said sarcastically rolling my eyes.

“The point is its part of me now, not just armor.” Tony ignored her as he stood opposite Banner, looking at him through you clear screen as lines of data swam across it. “It’s a… terrible privilege.

“But you can control it.” Bruce pointed out.

“Because I learned how”

“It’s different.” Bruce returned back to the computer screen but Tony slid the data aside with his fingers so the two could see face-to-face without interruption.

“Hey, I’ve read all about your accident. That much gamma exposure should have killed you.”

“That’s true…” Katie said, watching the exchange.

“So you’re saying that the Hulk…” he paused, smiling sadly as he correcting himself whilst Tony raised his eyebrows “The other guy saved my life?”

Katie looked at Tony. His eyes were flashing bright as Bruce looked back at him. Tony gave him a significant look.

“That’s nice, it’s a nice sentiment.” Bruce said as Tony moved back to his computer. “Saved it for what?”

Tony hesitated and looked up, “I guess we’ll find out.

And it seemed they just had.

Unlike Steve, Katie did believe in fate and destiny, certainly to an extent anyway. After everything she had seen and experienced over the past twelve years or so she couldn’t help but consider there was an element of truth in the fact that they were all pawns in a bigger game.

She glanced at Steve who was studying Banner, but made no move to stop him. He couldn’t argue with the man’s logic. So, as no one else protested, Tony moved to remove the gauntlet from the casing before he handed it to the Doctor.

“Good to go, yeah?” Tony asked.

Bruce nodded. “Let’s do it,”

“You remember. Everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago and just bring them back to now.” Tony reminded Bruce. “Don’t change anything from the last five years,”

Bruce nodded again. “Got it.”

“Good luck.” Katie encouraged before she twisted the star on her bangle causing her suit to flow over her body, Tony doing the same with his chest piece whilst Steve gripped his shield on his arm. Katie’s own shield beamed out of the suit and she held it in front of her, glancing to Steve where he stood to her left. He flashed her a small smile which she returned before her helmet slid round her head.

“FRIDAY do me a favour and activate Barn Door Protocol” Tony announced as he stepped in line with Clint, a shield springing from his suit. Thor stepped in front of Rocket whilst Rhodey and Scott also fully engaged their suits.

“Yes boss,” she replied and around them all the facility went into lock down as shutters closed over the doors, windows and roof.

Katie engaged her scanners, checking the heads up display which was monitoring the energy levels on the stones and she moved her feet slightly apart, adopting an almost identical stance to Steve, their defences raised in front of them.

Bruce looked at the gauntlet in his hand for a second. “Everybody comes home,” and with that he slid his fingers into the glove which nanobotically expanded to fit his hand. There was a sudden whoosh, and as they watched, the stones lit up in different colours, tendrils of bright light spreading up Bruce’s arm as their power surged up towards his shoulder and neck. He cried out in pain, almost falling and Katie watched worriedly as the man continued to shout and groan, his teeth grit together.

“Bruce?” She asked as Steve shifted besides her, his legs apart ready to dive in if he had to. Bruce then crashed down to his knees, his face contorted in pain.

“Take it off. Take it off!” Thor cried out, starting towards him.

“No, wait!” Steve urged, holding his hand up. They knew something like this was going to happen, they’d seen the mess left of Thanos’ arm. But they couldn’t quit, not now. “Bruce, are you okay?“

“Talk to me, Banner.” Tony demanded.

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” Bruce grit out through his teeth, giving a jerky nod as Thor gave him two thumbs.

After what felt like hours, Bruce slowly raised his arm. With a final grit of his teeth, he moved his fingers and everyone braced themselves. Steve moved himself in front of his wife with his shield raised, even though she was probably more protected than he was, such was his force of habit. With a loud yell, and a laboured effort, Bruce snapped his fingers. Steve’s shield raised automatically over his face in an attempt to shield himself and Katie form the blinding white light that pulsed out from the Gauntlet, filling the room.

But it was gone as soon as it had appeared.

Steve had to admit he had expected more, but his concern at the moment was Bruce who collapsed backwards to the floor and the gauntlet slid off his hand dropping to the tiles with a clang.

“Bruce!” He called, kneeling down beside him as Clint booted the gauntlet across the room away from them all.

“Don’t move him.” Tony instructed as he dropped to his knees besides Bruce who was gripping onto Steve’s arm with his left hand, blinking in pain. Tony opened his palm, spraying Bruce’s right arm with foam to cool him off.

“Did it work?” Bruce breathed out, blinking slightly.

Katie glanced around, her helmet retracting as she did so. “I don’t know.” As she continued to look around for a clue, anything that would indicate if they’d been successful, she spotted Scott walking towards the windows of the facility, the blinds sliding back as the lock down reversed.

“Worth a shot.” Thor sighed, clearly having already decided it hadn’t. He knelt down besides Banner “It’s okay…”

As Steve, Tony and Thor tended to Bruce, Katie continued to watch Scott who stood by the window, his mouth forming a little O of surprise. She squinted, wondering what it was he had seen, and then she spotted a few birds in the tree on the patio area. She swallowed slightly, whilst birds hadn’t been uncommon in the five years, they had certainly been down in numbers, and it was unusual for four of them at once to be in a tree that small.

She was then distracted by Clint who had given a sharp intake of breath and she spun to watch him as he picked up his phone from one of the desks with a shaking hand.

“Honey?” He croaked, and Katie watched as his face contorted into raw emotion, his words failing to form out of the sheer emotion he was clearly feeling. “Honey?”

There was only one person that could be, and if it was her then…

“Guys, I think it worked,” Scott spoke from his spot and Katie took a deep breath as her own tears threatened to overwhelm her. She locked eyes with Steve, who glanced up at her, his own eyes shining as he smiled.

“We did it.” Katie breathed out, looking round as she gave a watery laugh, wiping away her tears. “Son of a bitch, we actually-“

But she didn’t get chance to finish her sentence as suddenly there was a huge explosion, and the ground fell open beneath her.

*****

Smoke. Fire. Ash. Gushing Water.

That was all Katie could see, hear and feel. She was vaguely aware that FRIDAY was yelling something in her ear. As she shook her head slightly, she groaned, waiting for her senses to catch up with the rest of her.

Then, she heard Tony, and as she moved to get up, she realised she couldn’t. There was something crushing her into the ground, something ridiculously heavy which was pressing on her back. She tried to push herself up, but the weight was too much.

And then it was gone, and a strong arm was hoisting her to her feet.

“Little Stark?” Thor asked as Katie gave another groan, retracting her helmet. “Are you okay?”

“No serious injuries detected.” FRIDAY informed her, and she nodded to the God.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” She blinked, looking around as she tried to figure out what the fuck had just happened. “Where’s…”

“I take it that wasn’t the snap.” Tony mumbled, distracting her as she glanced down to her left as he blasted away a piece of concrete that had been pinning his legs down. He stood up, and the three of them took a moment to look around where they were stood in the ruins of the compound, before Thor gave a lowly growl and walked to the edge of the blown apart building, looking down into the huge crater.

“No, it was him.” He nodded. Katie and Tony both walked towards him, drawing up on either side, and Katie gave a sharp gasp as she saw Thanos in a distance, sat on a rock.

“Where’s Steve?” Katie’s brain suddenly remembered who it was she’d been looking for earlier, and she, glancing round furiously. She engaged her helmet again and FRIDAY scanned the piles of rubble but she needn’t have bothered, she spotted him almost immediately. She quickly moved towards him, kicking some more rubble and wreckage out of the way before she dropped gently to Steve’s side where he lay unconscious, FRIDAY informing her that his life signs were fine.

“Stevie?” She he said gently, shaking his shoulder. “Come on honey, wake up.” With a sharp intake of breath, Steve’s eyes flew open and Katie let out a sigh of relief, as she looked up to see Tony smiling, Steve’s shield on his arm.

“That’s my man.” Tony nodded, leaning down towards Steve who glanced up, his breathing evening out. “Lose this again,” Tony held out the shield, “I’m keeping it.”

Steve grimaced and turned to look at his wife. “You okay?” “Yeah.” She nodded, “turns out Tony’s suits are pretty good, who knew huh?” Tony scoffed as Steve blinked, getting his bearings, taking in the debris and rubble of the compound. “What happened?”

“You mess with time it tends to mess back,” Tony spoke gently, glancing at Katie sniffed a little, wiping at her nose, fear flickering across her face. “You’ll see.”

“Thanos?” Steve swallowed, and Katie nodded. Steve exhaled again as Tony helped him to his feet and the three of them walked over to Thor, who was stood exactly where Katie and Tony had left him earlier.

“What’s he been doing?” Tony asked, standing to Thor’s left as Katie stood to the God’s right in between him and her husband as the four of them glanced down at the Titan.

“Absolutely nothing.” Thor’s voice was low.

Steve had no idea how the Titan was there, but he didn’t really give a shit either. There was one thing they had to do, and that was all that mattered.

“Where are the stones?” He asked.

“Somewhere under all this,” Katie gestured to pile of ruins under their feet. “All we know is that he doesn’t have them.”

“So we keep it that way.” Steve spoke simply, steely determination lacing his voice, his eyes not moving from the Titan.

“You know this is a trap, right?” Thor asked, his gaze also locked on the large warrior.

“Yeah. I don’t much, care.” Tony replied with a shrug.

“Good. Just as long as we’re all in agreement.” Thor nodded, and with that there was a large crack of thunder. Bright beams and shards of lightning surround the God as he stretched out both his hands to summon Stormbreaker and Mjolnir. His casual clothes transformed into his armour and cape, his beard flowing into a braid, giving him a distinctive Viking Warrior look as his eyes glowed bright white, every inch of his face lined with fury.

“Good to have you back, Thunder God.” Katie smiled at him as he took a deep breath, the lightning dying down as he looked over her shoulder at Steve, who nodded at him.

“Let’s kill him properly this time.” Thor’s voice was a low growl as he jumped off the edge of the ruins they were stood on, landing with a loud crash on the ground. Katie moved to one side of Steve, wrapping her arm around his as Tony did the same, the three of them flying forward and landing with a little more grace than Thor had done.

Once more the four of them exchanged looks before the started to walk cautiously towards Thanos, but Katie stopped as Steve pulled on her arm.

“You need to promise me.” He looked at her as her. “If this starts to go sideways…” “I think we’re a bit past that.” She breathed out and Steve shook his head, looking down.

“Baby, the kids. I need you to promise me that if it looks like, well, you need to go back for them.” “Steve.” Katie took a shaky breath, her eyes filling with tears. “There’s no point making me promise anything like that, because if we don’t get rid of him, then there might not be anything to go back for.”

Her words hit him harder than any punch could, and Steve felt his chest contract, painfully. He tore his eyes off her which were now full of tears as he looked up at Tony and Thor who continued to advance ahead of them, his hand running down his face.

She was right and whilst he wanted her as far away as possible, with their kids, safe, he knew it was futile because nothing was safe now. He could send her away, get her out of the fight, but if they failed then she was as good as dead anyway, they all were.

Because Steve didn’t believe for a second that Thanos would make the mistake of leaving who died this time round down to chance.

“If we go, we go.” Katie’s voice ripped him from his thoughts as he turned back to her, the tears in her eyes dancing with the flames that reflected from the various fires dotted around. “We have to try or they don’t stand a chance. Whatever it takes.”

Steve couldn’t bring himself to reply. Instead he gave her a curt nod and the two of them strode forward to confront the man who had haunted their dreams for the past five years.

“You could not live with your own failure,” Thanos spoke for the first time as they drew closer. “Where did that bring you? Back to me. I thought by eliminating half of life the other half would thrive. But you’ve shown me that’s impossible.”

The four of them split up, as they began to surround Thanos, circling him, whilst he spoke.

“As long as there are those that remembered what was, there are always those that are unable to accept what can be. They will resist.”

“Yeah, we’re all kinds of stubborn.” Tony continued his pacing to stand behind the Titan.

“I’m thankful, because now I know what I must do,” Thanos stood up, “I will shred this universe down to its last atom.” He reached for his helmet which had been propped up on the edge of his double edged blade where it was stuck into the ground in front of him. “And then with the stones that you’ve collected for me,” he placed the helmet on top of his head, “I’ll create a new one, teeming with life,” he pulled his weapon from the ground, twirling it in his large hand, “that knows not what is lost, only what has been given,”

There was a rush and a flash as the lighting flew round Thor’s axe and hammer, his eyes flashing as he stood to Thanos’ left, Katie now to his right.

“A grateful universe.” Thanos concluded.

“Born out of blood,” Steve glared up at the man, anger lancing through every cell in his body.

“They’ll never know it,” Thanos cocked his head to the right, “because you won’t be alive to tell them.”

At that, having heard enough, Thor gave a loud cry as he surged forward, beginning the fight. Tony and Katie both launched into the air and Steve threw himself in, shield first, as the four of them began to work in tandem.

Lightning flashed, shots fired, metal clanged on metal as they all deployed their various weapons. It was brutal, hard, just as Steve had remembered from Wakanda, only this time they were engaged directly with the Titan, and it was fast becoming apparent that this Thanos was equally as vicious an opponent than his future self had been.

“Okay, Thor. Hit me.” Tony’s voice rang over Steve’s comms as Katie flew up out of the way of the Titan’s sword as he swung it at her, deflecting the shot she’d taken at him from her repulsors.

As Steve launched his shield again, Thor banged his axe and hammer together, charging Tony’s suit with lightening. Tony then shot the extra energy out using his hands and body, Katie joining him as she hovered off to the left. Thanos twirled his blade in front of him, diverting the energy and Steve gave a yell as it rebounded back to Katie, her suit taking a full shot causing her to fly off to the side, colliding harshly with a huge piece of the compound structure, falling to the floor.

With a roar of rage, Thor grabbed Stormbreaker and used it to bat his hammer to hit Thanos, who used Tony as a shield, casting the man aside where he too landed harshly, remaining motionless on the ground.

Steve launched forward but was flung away, landing and taking a heavy thump to the head. With a groan, he blinked away the spots of light that had formed in front of his eyes from the impact of the blow, and glanced around, giving a sigh of relieve as he saw Katie was pushing herself up on her hands, rising to all fours. With the ringing still in his ears, he then saw Thanos pounding down on Thor, Tony still motionless in the background.

With a loud grunt, Steve ground his teeth together in stubborn determination and reached out to push himself up, but he paused when a sudden shock of warmth vibrated up his arm. He instantly glanced down at his hand and realised he’d flattened his palm against Thor’s hammer, not the ground. He frowned for a moment, as the vibrations continued. It felt like the throb of his motorbike engine, a warm purr. The last time he had tried to move, sure, it had given a little, but he hadn’t felt anything like that…

Could he? Was it possible?

With an automatic movement, one that seemed completely out of his control, Steve rose to his feet and reached out, gripping the handle. He sucked in a breath and as he pulled up his arm, the hammer came with him.

**** With a groan, Katie blinked, shaking off the daze that had descended over her thanks to the heavy blow she’d taken from Tony’s deflected fire. She looked around, the ringing loud in her ears as she saw Thanos flip Thor to the floor, pressing him back up against a rock. Thor reached for his axe, and as the pair of them grappled, Thanos gained the upper hand and began to attempt to push Stombreaker through Thor’s chest.

Immediately, Katie took off and began to fly towards Thor, raising her palms to shoot a beam at Thanos, but as she neared something whizzed straight across her path and she stopped dead in the air, her sight focussed on Mjolnir as it soared towards Thanos, where it whacked him harshly in the side of the head, sending him flying away. It carried on for a while before it stopped, and boomeranged back right round but it didn’t stop at Thor.

Instead it continued, and Katie felt her mouth drop open as she followed it with her eyes as it flew into Steve’s waiting hand, his fingers curling round the handle as he caught it.

“Holy shit…” She spluttered at the same time as Thor breathed a little smugly into the comms.

“I knew it!”

Steve was wielding the hammer. Steve Rogers, the kid from Brooklyn that was too dumb to run away from a fight was worthy.

But then, as Katie watched him turn to look at Thanos, hammer in hand, that determined expression on his face as he sized up his opponent, she realised there was no one else more worthy than the man who had done nothing but continually put his life on the line for others.

Thanos kicked Thor harshly in the chest sending him straight through the rock he was up against and then Steve proceeded to charge at Thanos, swinging Mjolnir. He caught Thanos perfectly on the chin with an upper cut from the hammer, which sent him flying through the air, where he landed, and jumped up.

Katie took off towards the two, as Steve launched his shield, but Thanos deflected it easily. As it swung back towards him, Steve threw the hammer straight at it, creating a shockwave which knocked Thanos back off his feet.

Then, the Captain went completely on the offensive, shield and hammer flying through the air again and again before he lined his arm back up and summonsed the lighting. Shooting a shock at Thanos he blasted the Titan off his feet before Katie landed in front of him giving a yell. Just as Thor had done before to Tony, he charged up her suit and she powered everything she had into the Titan as he lay on the floor.

Steve drew to her side as she unloaded, but before she could say or do anything else Thanos’ sword flew back at her and she dodged out of the way, but wasn’t quite quick enough. It hit her hard in the chest and sent her skidding backwards against the floor where she collided with a metal pipe.

Thanos advanced on Steve, menacingly swinging his weapon and, one on one, Steve was no match for him. He lost the hammer and, after receiving a nasty stab to the leg and gash to his arm, he could do nothing but hold his shield up to deflect the blow that was coming his way.

Only it didn’t. Thanos’ double edged weapon sank straight into the Vibranium like it was butter.

Steve looked at it in shock and horror, never once had anything ever penetrated the metal, but he didn’t have chance to think about it as the blows continued. Pieces of his shield were shearing away left, right and centre and then Thanos picked him up by the front of his suit and tossed him aside like he was a rag doll.

He landed harshly a few feet away from Katie and rolled onto his back, his eyes closing and his chest heaving with exertion. He gave a little gulp, a low gasp that was almost a cry flew from his mouth as he felt sheer desperation flood his system, the faces of his kids and his wife flashing through his mind.

Steve Rogers might be worthy, but he was beat.

**** Chapter 57

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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spiralingsoftly · 3 years

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*This is my first time writing fanfiction in a long time. It's also my first BNHA and TodoDeku fanfiction period. Critiques welcome!*

Izuku Midoriya sat on the couch in the living room, his phone held against his ear as he stared absently out the window and listened as his mother went on about one topic after another. He loved his mother, truly he did. Ever since his father had left, his mother had been his biggest supporter even if she was overbearing at times – even now that he was in his thirties.

“Izuku? Honey? Did you hear what I just said?” his mother Inku asked, her worry ringing loud and clear through the phone.

“Hmm?” Izuku asked in reply, inwardly shaking himself out of the daze he’d fallen into as he listened to his mom’s voice and gazed out the window facing the couch upon which he was sitting.

The apartment was small, much smaller than one most people would consider appropriate for an up and coming hero like he was. But it was home and Izuku loved it. After he had graduated from UA, he’d worked at the Endeavor agency with Bakugo and Todoroki for a while until he had moved on to more freelance work. It wasn’t the glamourous hero life he’d envisioned when he had first began training with All Might, but it was fulfilling and Izuku honestly loved what he did every day.

“I’m sorry, mom. I spaced out again. Can you repeat that?” he said with a slight sigh, absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck even though his mother couldn’t see him through the phone.

“Oh Izuku. Are you sure that living in that apartment is still a good idea, honey? I know you love it there and have made it home, but I just worry….” Inku trailed off, not quite sure how to continue and not wanting to upset her son.

“Mom, I promise I’m fine. Things are slow with work right now and so my mind just wanders a bit more than before. But I’m okay.” Izuku replied, smiling softly despite how sad he truly felt inside. He hoped that the sadness didn’t seep through into his words, although he knew that it probably had.

Leaving the Endeavor agency to be a freelance hero had been the most difficult decision of his life, and almost every day he questioned himself as to if he had made the right choice or not. The work under Endeavor had been difficult and unrelenting. But it had shaped him into the hero that he was today. At the same time, it had also brought one of the best parts of his life crashing to the ground in the process.

“I know, honey. I just worry. I’ll let you go so that you can get something to eat – I know you haven’t been eating as well as you should be. Don’t even try and convince me otherwise, young man. I’m still your mother.” Inku said with a soft laugh before they bother said their goodbyes and ended the call.

Shaking his head and smiling softly, Izuku put his phone on the table beside the cough as his eyes turned back toward the sky outside. It was a crisp, cool fall day in mid-October. The leaves on the trees were turning brilliant colors and the air was turning colder by the day. This used to be his favorite time of year. Being able to walk down the street, wrapped up in his warmest coat, a scarf wrapped around his neck and his hands kept warm by a pair of hand knitted gloves. He could almost feel the warmth of the sun on his face as he walked thru the streets, hand in hand with his significant other.

Shoto.

That’s why his mind had wandered as he had been talking to his mother on the phone. The sky was the exact color of Shoto’s eye on his left side. While he loved looking into Shoto’s eyes, it was always his left eye that Izuku loved looking into most. Icy, beautiful blue.

They had publicly gotten together during the winter of their third year at UA. To their surprise, none of their other classmates had been too terribly surprised when they announced that they were now dating. It had been Bakugo who informed them that the whole class knew that they had secretly been dating since the previous spring. The brash blonde had gone on to say that they were both stupid to think that the rest of their classmates wouldn’t have put two and two together when the two of them kept having “study session” in one of their bedrooms. Apparently, they hadn’t hidden their relationship as well as they had hoped they had.

Working together at Endeavor’s agency had been great at first, even if it was also very awkward. Enji Todoroki had never been a kind or cuddly man. He had gotten ‘nicer’ over the years as he atoned for his wrongs against his children and wife – going so far as to bring Shoto’s mother home again to be with her children. But the elder Todoroki was still a cold man, bordering on somewhat cruelly emotionless at times. But, despite all that, being able to work as a hero in an official capacity with his boyfriend was something that Izuku had all but leapt at being able to do.

It had happened slowly overtime. An offhand comment here, a rude remark there. Enji wasn’t homophobic – Shoto’s older brother had a boyfriend as well and Enji was accepting of them and his children’s friends who had same sex significant others. However, there was always a tenseness when it came to his relationship with his youngest son. More than once, Izuku had brought the topic up with Shoto. Explaining to his boyfriend how uncomfortable the comments made him. Shoto, to his credit, had grown so much as a person since Izuku’s words at the sports festival their first year at UA had broken through his hesitancy to fully embrace the fire side of his quirk. However, little things like his father’s comments didn’t always register with him in the same way they did with the rest of the world.

After once particularly difficult rescue mission, he and Shoto had been sharing some quiet time together in one of the breakrooms at the agency when Enji had come in and made some rude comment before leaving again a few minutes later. That comment had been the straw that broke the camels back. After an emotion filled conversation, an argument really, he and Shoto had decided that they weren’t working as a couple. They still loved each other deeply but being a couple while working together at his father’s agency just wasn’t working anymore. Between tears, they decided that Izuku would stay at the apartment they shared together and Shoto would return home to live with his mother and siblings.

Blinking a few times, Izuku brought himself out of the memory he had just been reliving. Reaching a hand up to his face, he wasn’t surprised to learn that he was silently crying as his mind replayed the memories of the day that his world had completely changed. He had stopped by his mother’s house on his way home that day, and by the time he got home Shoto had already been there, collected his things, and left. The only way Izuku had known that the other man had been there at all was a note that had been left on their kitchen counter. It was written on a small square of pink paper. In Shoto’s unique script were the words “I’m so proud of you, Zuku. I love you – Sho”.

Izuku knew that he probably should have thrown the note away. Part of him still wished that he would, even though almost six months had passed since they parted. But he’d kept it. It helped ease the ache a little bit, even in some macabre way.

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

Shoto Todoroki sighed heavily as he reached the floor where the apartment, he shared with his boyfriend Izuku was. He was tried and warring with himself internally as to if he should actually go inside or not. Slowly he approached the door, his fingertips lightly brushing against the cool metal of the door before he gently knocked and pushed the door open slightly. Izuku never locked the door during the day, even though Shoto had begged him repeatedly to do so.

Sticking his head in slightly, Shoto smiled as he spotted the green haired man curled up on the sofa sound asleep. Opening the door enough so that he could walk inside the apartment, Shoto toed his shoes off and gently sat his bag on the floor next to the door. Straightening back up, he took off his coat and hung it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs as he walked softly toward the living room and over to the couch. Kneeling down in front of the sleeping man, Shoto gently ran the pad of his thumb across Izuku’s cheek.

“Zuku? Hey Zuku. Wake up, babe.” He said softly, retracting his hand from the others face as Izuku’s eyelashes began to flutter before opening to reveal beautiful green eyes.

“S-sho? Shoto? W-what’re you doing here?” Izuku asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I came home. If you’ll still have me, that is….” Shoto replied softly, looking into Izuku’s eyes with silent hope.

“But what about your dad’s agency?”

Shoto shrugged before answering. “I left. He begged me not to. Told me that the agency would be mine after he retired. But I told him I didn’t want it. I wanted to build my own agency, my own legacy. It’s my quirk, right? Not his?”

Izuku’s face lit up with the most stunning smile that Shoto had ever seen before the green haired man flung himself into the other’s lap.

“It’s your quirk, Sho. It’s always been yours. He might have been the one to give it to you – along with your mom’s quirk of course. But it’s yours.” Izuku replied before leaning in and kissing Shoto deeply.

Reaching forward, Shoto held the smaller man to him as he lost himself in the kiss. This was where he was meant to be. Sharing his life with the up and coming number two hero, Izuku Midoriya. Not trapped in some stuffy office in some agency being led by his father. When the kiss broke, their eyes remained closed as they both sat in silence, just soaking in the moment before either of them spoke.

“Does this mean I can come back? I can come home?” Shoto asked quietly, part of him dreading that the answer would be no.

Izuku’s eyes snapped open and he smiled before affectionately rubbing his nose against Shoto’s.

“Yes, Sho. You can come home. To our home.”

The bi-color haired man decided to forgo a verbal reply, instead opting to lean in again and capture the smaller man’s lips with his own again. They shared several additional sweet kisses before parting again. Sitting in silence again, Izuku once again remembered the note that Shoto had left the day that he left. Pressing another quick kiss to Shoto’s lips, Izuku silently got up and walked over to a cabinet that sat near the door into the kitchen. Opening one of the drawers, he took something out of it before closing the drawer again and returning to Shoto. Sitting back down on the other man’s lap, Izuku looked up at the other and smiled again.

“I kept it. I don’t know why, but I kept it.” He said, holding the paper up for Shoto to read.

Quickly reading it, Shoto blushed a soft pink as he looked down toward the floor. Huffing a quick laugh, Izuku reached out and lifted the bi-color haired man’s chin so he could look into his eyes.

“I’m so proud of you, Sho. Always have been, always will be.” He said before once again kissing the other man.

As they kissed, the paper was forgotten when Izuku wrapped his arms around his now returned boyfriend’s neck. As Shoto shifted them and rose from the floor in order to head to their bedroom, the last thing that Izuku saw before being kissed again was what was written on the note.

“I’m so proud of you, Zuku. I love you – Sho”

#BNHA fanfic #tododeku fanfic #tododeku #MHA #mha fanfiction #BNHA

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1962dude420-blog · 3 years

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Today we remember the passing of Peter Green who Died: July 25, 2020 in Canvey Island, Essex, England

Peter Allen Greenbaum (29 October 1946 – 25 July 2020), known professionally as Peter Green, was an English blues rock singer-songwriter and guitarist. As the founder of Fleetwood Mac, he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1998. Green's songs, such as "Albatross", "Black Magic Woman", "Oh Well", "The Green Manalishi (With the Two Prong Crown)" and "Man of the World", appeared on singles charts, and several have been adapted by a variety of musicians.

Green was a major figure in the "second great epoch" of the British blues movement. Eric Clapton praised his guitar playing, and B.B. King commented, "He has the sweetest tone I ever heard; he was the only one who gave me the cold sweats." Green was interested in expressing emotion in his songs, rather than showing off how fast he could play. His trademark sound included string bending, vibrato, and economy of style.

In June 1996, Green was voted the third-best guitarist of all time in Mojo magazine. In 2015, Rolling Stone ranked him at number 58 in its list of the "100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time". Green's tone on the instrumental "The Super-Natural" was rated as one of the 50 greatest of all time by Guitar Player in 2004.

Peter Allen Greenbaum was born in Bethnal Green, London, on 29 October 1946, into a Jewish family, the youngest of Joe and Ann Greenbaum's four children. His brother, Michael, taught him his first guitar chords and by the age of 11 Green was teaching himself. He began playing professionally by the age of 15, while working for a number of East London shipping companies. He first played bass guitar in a band called Bobby Dennis and the Dominoes, which performed pop chart covers and rock 'n' roll standards, including Shadows covers. He later stated that Hank Marvin was his guitar hero and he played the Shadows' song "Midnight" on the 1996 tribute album Twang. He went on to join a rhythm and blues outfit, the Muskrats, then a band called the Tridents in which he played bass. By Christmas 1965 Green was playing lead guitar in Peter Bardens' band "Peter B's Looners", where he met drummer Mick Fleetwood. It was with Peter B's Looners that he made his recording début with the single "If You Wanna Be Happy" with "Jodrell Blues" as a B-side. His recording of "If You Wanna Be Happy" was an instrumental cover of a song by Jimmy Soul. In 1966, Green and some other members of Peter B's Looners formed another act, Shotgun Express, a Motown-style soul band which also included Rod Stewart, but Green left the group after a few months.

In October 1965, before joining Bardens' group, Green had the opportunity to fill in for Eric Clapton in John Mayall & the Bluesbreakers for four gigs. Soon afterwards, when Clapton left the Bluesbreakers, Green became a full-time member of Mayall's band from July 1966. Green made his recording debut with the Bluesbreakers in 1966 on the album A Hard Road (1967), which featured two of his own compositions, "The Same Way" and "The Supernatural". The latter was one of Green's first instrumentals, which would soon become a trademark. So proficient was he that his musician friends bestowed upon him the nickname "The Green God". In 1967, Green decided to form his own blues band and left the Bluesbreakers.

Green's new band, with former Bluesbreaker Mick Fleetwood on drums and Jeremy Spencer on guitar, was initially called "Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac featuring Jeremy Spencer". Bob Brunning was temporarily employed on bass guitar (Green's first choice, Bluesbreakers' bassist John McVie, was not yet ready to join the band). Within a month they played at the Windsor National Jazz and Blues Festival in August 1967, and were quickly signed to Mike Vernon's Blue Horizon label. Their repertoire consisted mainly of blues covers and originals, mostly written by Green, but some were written by slide guitarist Jeremy Spencer. The band's first single, Spencer's "I Believe My Time Ain't Long" with Green's "Rambling Pony" as a B-side, did not chart but their eponymous debut album made a significant impression, remaining in the British charts for 37 weeks. By September 1967, John McVie had replaced Brunning.

Although classic blues covers and blues-styled originals remained prominent in the band's repertoire through this period, Green rapidly blossomed as a songwriter and contributed many successful original compositions from 1968 onwards. The songs chosen for single release showed Green's style gradually moving away from the group's blues roots into new musical territory. Their second studio album Mr. Wonderful was released in 1968 and continued the formula of the first album. In the same year they scored a hit with Green's "Black Magic Woman" (later covered by Santana), followed by the guitar instrumental "Albatross" (1969), which reached number one in the British singles charts. More hits written by Green followed, including "Oh Well", "Man of the World" (both 1969) and the ominous "The Green Manalishi" (1970). The double album Blues Jam in Chicago (1969) was recorded at the Chess Records Ter-Mar Studio in Chicago. There, under the joint supervision of Vernon and Marshall Chess, they recorded with some of their American blues heroes including Otis Spann, Big Walter Horton, Willie Dixon, J. T. Brown and Buddy Guy.

While touring Europe in late March 1970, Green took LSD at a party at a commune in Munich, an incident cited by Fleetwood Mac manager Clifford Davis as the crucial point in his mental decline. Communard Rainer Langhans mentions in his autobiography that he and Uschi Obermaier met Green in Munich, where they invited him to their Highfisch-Kommune. Fleetwood Mac roadie Dinky Dawson remembers that Green went to the party with another roadie, Dennis Keane, and that when Keane returned to the band's hotel to explain that Green would not leave the commune, Keane, Dawson and Mick Fleetwood travelled there to fetch him. By contrast, Green stated that he had fond memories of jamming at the commune when speaking in 2009: "I had a good play there, it was great, someone recorded it, they gave me a tape. There were people playing along, a few of us just fooling around and it was... yeah it was great." He told Jeremy Spencer at the time "That's the most spiritual music I've ever recorded in my life." After a final performance on 20 May 1970, Green left Fleetwood Mac.

Green was eventually diagnosed with schizophrenia and spent time in psychiatric hospitals undergoing electroconvulsive therapy during the mid-1970s. Many sources attest to his lethargic, trancelike state during this period. In 1977, Green was arrested for threatening his accountant David Simmons with a shotgun. The exact circumstances are the subject of much speculation, the most famous being that Green wanted Simmons to stop sending money to him. In the 2011 BBC documentary Peter Green: Man of the World, Green stated that at the time he had just returned from Canada needing money and that, during a telephone conversation with his accounts manager, he alluded to the fact that he had brought back a gun from his travels. His accounts manager promptly called the police, who surrounded Green's house.

In 1979, Green began to re-emerge professionally. With the help of his brother Michael, he was signed to Peter Vernon-Kell's PVK label, and produced a string of solo albums starting with 1979's In the Skies. He also made an uncredited appearance on Fleetwood Mac's double album Tusk, on the song "Brown Eyes", released the same year.

In 1981, Green contributed to "Rattlesnake Shake" and "Super Brains" on Mick Fleetwood's solo album The Visitor. He recorded various sessions with a number of other musicians notably the Katmandu album A Case for the Blues with Ray Dorset of Mungo Jerry, Vincent Crane from The Crazy World of Arthur Brown and Len Surtees of The Nashville Teens. Despite attempts by Gibson Guitar Corporation to start talks about producing a "Peter Green signature Les Paul" guitar, Green's instrument of choice at this time was a Gibson Howard Roberts Fusion guitar. In 1986, Peter and his brother Micky contributed to the album A Touch of Sunburn by Lawrie 'The Raven' Gaines (under the group name 'The Enemy Within'). This album has been reissued many times under such titles as Post Modern Blues and Peter Green and Mick Green – Two Greens Make a Blues, often crediting Pirates guitarist Mick Green.

In 1988 Green was quoted as saying: "I'm at present recuperating from treatment for taking drugs. It was drugs that influenced me a lot. I took more than I intended to. I took LSD eight or nine times. The effect of that stuff lasts so long ... I wanted to give away all my money ... I went kind of holy – no, not holy, religious. I thought I could do it, I thought I was all right on drugs. My failing!"

Enduring periods of mental illness and destitution throughout the 1970s and 1980s, Green moved in with his older brother Len and Len's wife Gloria, and his mother in their house in Great Yarmouth, where a process of recovery began. He lived for a period on Canvey Island, Essex.

Green married Jane Samuels in January 1978; the couple divorced in 1979. They had a daughter, Rosebud(born 1978).

Green died on July 25, 2020 at the age of 73.

#July 25 #2020 #R.I.P.#Peter Green #Fleetwood Mac #The Original Fleetwood Mac

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axelxmartinez · 4 years

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(Hi I love to plot, hit me up and let’s chat!)

Introduction @redridgeimp

FULL NAME: Axel Jose Diego Martinez

NICKNAMES(S): Axe, Ax, Diablo

AGE: 33

DATE OF BIRTH: October 30th, 1986

PLACE OF BIRTH: Red Ridge, Nevada

CURRENT LOCATION: Red Ridge, Nevada.

ETHNICITY: Latino. Mexican primarily and his mother was partially Caucasian (European descent), as well as Mexican and Dominican.

GENDER: Cis male.

PRONOUNS: He/him/his.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: quoiromantic

RELIGION: Atheist.

OCCUPATION: Owner of Roberto's and Bone breaker for Valencia.

EDUCATION LEVEL: he dropped out of high school in the beginning of 11th grade.

EXTRACURRICULAR: Boxing, lifting weights, playing video games, occasionally reading

LIVING ARRANGEMENTS: Owns his parents house, a medium sized single family home with 4 bedrooms, an unfinished basement, nothing to brag about on the south side of redridge

SPEAKING VOICE AND ACCENT: Deep, smooth voice with a hint of a Spanish accent, especially when he's angry. Normally keeps a steady tone, unless he’s really upset about something.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE, ETC.

FACECLAIM: Manny Montana

HAIR COLOR AND STYLE: black, shaved short

COMPLEXION: Brown on the lighter side with neutral undertones

EYE COLOR: Brown.

EYESIGHT: 20/30 the last time he checked, he probably could use corrective lenses for driving or reading something but he doesn’t bother with it.

HEIGHT: 6’1” or 185cm

WEIGHT: 169lbs or 77kg

BODY AND BUILD: Muscular, lean, well-defined muscles.

TATTOOS: tons, he gets them at random and the only theme to them is that they are black and white. The obvious ones most people see are the skull on his throat and the ones on his fingers and hands. (See his pinterest linked at the bottom for more ideas in this area)

PIERCINGS: none, he fights too much to have piercings.

CLOTHING STYLE: jeans, hoodies, t-shirts, flannels, button down shirts, primarily black for everything.

DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTICS: tattoos all over his body, small linear scar on his eyebrow where no hair grows, various scars all over his body - some covered with tattoos and some not. Also wears necklaces and rings, has a few random bracelets made by his nieces and nephews.

HEALTH.

MENTAL DISORDER(S): ADD is all he’s been diagnosed with, though he likely has an anxiety disorder as well.

PHYSICAL DISORDER(S): none

ALLERGIES: the pollen gets to him in the spring but he just ignores it

SLEEPING HABITS: insomniac, he sleeps in small shifts between work and whatever he’s doing during the day.

EATING HABITS: Axel has a high metabolism so he eats a lot and often, he tends to pick things up while he’s moving around town and keeps protein bars and snacks in his car for in between meals

SOCIABILITY: extroverted introvert, he tends to be around people but doesn’t go out of his way to strike up conversation unless he feels it necessary, knows the person already, or is spoken to first.

BODY TEMPERATURE: neutral.

ADDICTIONS: Nicotine, Caffeine, some would argue he drinks a little too much but he doesn’t think so.

DRUG USE: Depends on the drug. He smokes marijuana frequently, but anything else is occasionally and he refuses to touch needles or anything made purely from chemicals (i.e. Meth).

ALCOHOL USE: Frequently, usually has a drink or two everyday. Sometimes more, sometimes less. He prefers brandy and tequila but also enjoys beer and will always accept a free drink regardless of what it is.

PERSONALITY.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Hardworking, Efficient, Honest, Strong, Confident, Curious

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Callous, Insensitive, Secretive, Possessive, Withdrawn, Stubborn

LIKES: Fighting, good food, drinking, video games, smoking, sex, most things physical, some reading, fire

DISLIKES: Schools, authority (mainly police), drama, airplanes, inactivity

FEARS: His only fear that he could ever pinpoint was his father.

HABITS: Plays with his fingers, touches his face, staring without talking, smoking, rain

ASTROLOGY: Scorpio Sun, Sagittarius Rising, Libra Moon

PERSONALITY TYPE: INTJ

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin.

ELEMENT: Fire

WEATHER: Overcast or Sunny

COLOR: Black

MUSIC: Rock, Metal, 90’s hip hop

MOVIE: Documentaries or Action movies

SPORT: Baseball and Soccer

BEVERAGE: Brandy or Tequila

FOOD: Waffles

ANIMAL: Snake

SEASON: Summer

FAMILY, RELATIONSHIPS, ETC.

MOTHER: Antonia Martinez (Rodriguez)

FATHER: Roberto Martinez, deceased

SIGNIFICANT OTHER: none

SIBLING(S): 5 younger siblings, names and ages vague for future wc

CHILDREN: TBD

PET(S): Ball Python named Slinky

PROMPT.

“ROUTINE”: violence tw, death tw

Ever since he was a teenager, Axel has worked at Roberto’s. At his father’s insistence to teach him some responsibility, as the owner, it was common for him to hire his children and other relatives because he didn’t trust anyone. When Roberto, his father, went to prison and was simultaneously killed while there, his business was given to his eldest son. Axel wasn’t very torn up about losing his father, it made his life significantly easier and allowed him to take over the role as head of the Martinez family. Something he’d been well prepared for and while he wasn’t the nicest guy, he wasn’t the psychopath Roberto was. At least, he didn’t think he was.

With his father gone, his days started with the sun (if he even got to bed the night before). He opened the convenient store, put the money in the till for the starting shift and made sure everything was turned on and stocked from the night before. Once the first shift comes in, he usually heads to the back to double check that everything is locked up and set up for the next shift. After that is usually when he gets word of anything Valencia needs him to do that day. Even though he’s not a soldier anymore, he likes to keep busy so he picks up slack where he can. If not, he starts checking in on his younger siblings and making sure they are doing what they’re supposed to be doing and staying out of trouble. If he doesn’t have anything pressing to get done, he heads to the gym to do his usual workout and possibly some sparring to keep his endurance at peak along with his fighting technique. Afterwards, he hits up Ridge Roasters if he’s going to the North side of town and gets his coffee with a random pastry to go. Otherwise, he heads to Blue Hill Diner for a proper breakfast and chats with the staff there or scrolls through his phone. He heads back to the convenient store if they need him, otherwise he heads home for a nap or just to relax. Most days he can trust his shift supervisors or the manager to finish up the rest of the day at Roberto’s. Only on occasion does he have to cover a shift or go in to change the cash register for a shift.

By five or six in the evening, Axel crosses the threshold of St. Peters and takes a spot at the bar. If he feels like dinner, he gets something to eat. Otherwise he has a few drinks to pass the time and watches the environment. If he’s lucky, he catches something that isn’t supposed to be happening in Redridge without approval and brings it to a higher up. Otherwise, he wastes some time before Rogue’s opens and he can go watch the fights for the night. By the time it’s his turn to get in the ring, he’s usually itching to start fighting. He’s not one to get excited about much, but once he gets sight of his ‘opponent’ a wide shark-like smile will spread across his face. Axel loves the work he gets to do with Valencia and if he could do more he would. Fighting and getting rid of people was something he specialized in, he was damn good at it, too. If he was lucky, he brought someone home with him at the end of the night. If not, he has another drink and heads back to his house to watch something on the television or, if he’s even luckier, gets a few hours of sleep before he has to wake up and repeat it all the next day.

“REMINISCENCE”: violence tw, alcohol tw, blood tw, death tw

“Not everyone gets to just blurt out how the feel about whoever or whatever on a fuckin’ whim, dude.” Axel spoke into his glass, the third brandy making his voice hoarse. Stuck in the reverie that his best friend had pulled from him. That afternoon they’d gotten the news that his father was found dead in the showers that morning. He was out celebrating. That man had never done anything for anyone, nothing good at least and definitely not any of his kids. Axel looked at the brown liquid in his glass and swirled it around. “Remember back in high school, that kid Jake who used to hang around sometimes?” He asked, eyes still on the glass. “We used to mess around or whatever. I was young and stupid.” He shook his head, knowing at twenty-five he wasn’t exactly old but he was a lot older than he was then. “Anyways, it had been a few months and I started talkin’ a big game like I was the boss of my house. My papi didn’t give a shit what I did or who I was with and all that. We stopped at Roberto’s after school to get some snacks or whatever. You know, same shit different day.” Axel paused and let out a slow sigh. The alcohol was getting to his head and loosening his tongue to reveal shit he’d never talked about with anyone. Most people knew his father was a prick that was quick to correct his children with his hands rather than his words, but Axel didn’t ever make it seem like it bothered him. He sure as hell didn’t let on that he harbored a great fear of the man. “We were at the counter paying, right in front of my dad and Jake tried to lean in for a kiss or somethin’ to say thank you or some shit. I just freaked out, I didn’t know what to do because that shit wasn’t goin’ to fly with Roberto Martinez. Not one of his kids. So, I pushed him away and beat his ass bloody right there for all the world to see.” He didn’t want his dad to do it and if he thought for a second that Axel was into guys he would probably shoot him on the spot. Definitely would have gotten rid of him in one way or the other. Even if he still liked girls, too. “My brother had to pull me off of him. I was so fuckin’ scared man, I just kept hittin’ him. He had to go to the hospital and his parents didn’t even press charges, they straight pulled him out of school. I never even saw him again.” Axel finished off his glass and exhaled the burn it left in his throat and chest. “Out of all the people I’ve beat in my lifetime, all the shit I’ve done, man. That’s the only one I regret. But you know the sad part?” He let out a bitter laugh. “If I could go back and do it over, I’d still beat his ass. What the fuck does that say about me?” Axel shut up after that, didn’t even really pay attention to what his friend had to say about any of it. He drowned himself in a bottle and had no idea how he got home at the end of the night.

BACKGROUND. ( abuse tw, death tw, violence tw)

Born and raised in Redridge, oldest of six children. Some of his siblings still live in Redridge, others have left and spread around the country. He has a large extended family. They live all over the country, Mexico, and South America.

His father was a very strict man and ran his household with an iron fist. He believed his children should be seen and not heard. If one of them were to step out of line, show defiance, or generally make him angry in any way, he normally responded by correcting them physically instead of with words. He owned Roberto’s, which he started before Axel was born. Roberto was also a member of Valencia working up from street rat to lieutenant. He was arrested when Axel was twenty and died in prison when he was twenty-five.

Antonia, his mother, was a reserved woman. She was hard-working and loved her children. However, she listened to her husband and he was the head of the household. When Roberto went to prison, Axel took over the role of head of the household. His mother fell ill in his late twenties and currently lives in an assisted living facility in Redridge. Axel visits her regularly.

As for his siblings, he keeps up with all of them. One attends the community college and he is adamant that they keep up with their grades and continue their education. He keeps in almost daily touch with each and every one of them and adores his nieces and nephews. Whenever he can visit, he makes a point to but hates to fly so it is usually only once or twice a year at most for those who live outside of Nevada.

School wasn’t Axel’s strong suit. He could never focus and everything just made him feel like he was stupid when he knew he wasn’t stupid. He just wasn’t book smart. So he dropped out right before eleventh grade and worked at Roberto’s. As soon as he was able to, he joined Valencia as a street rat and moved up the ranks to Bone-breaker once he had proven himself. However, he enjoys doing soldier work still so he will pick up any spare jobs if they are available.

As far as romance goes, Axel has never been with anyone long. He enjoys both women and men and their company, but he has a hard time letting anyone past his walls. The few times he has tried, he fucked it up in one way or another. So, he stays single and just holds casual relationships.

He loves to fight and he is good at making people disappear, getting jobs done efficiently, and intimidation. Axel is very loyal to Valencia.

Currently, he is always on the move. He doesn’t like to be idle for long. So he is either doing work for Valencia or Roberto’s, moving around town, drinking at a bar, eating somewhere, fighting at Rogue’s, at the gym, watching fights, or sleeping in between any of those activities.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

Friends With Benefits/One-night Stands (unlimited): He likes physical activity and touch, he tries to pick people up often and especially after a fight. This could have been happening for a long time or just a night or be brand new.

Best Friend (0/1): This person knows him better than anyone. They just get him and is likely the only person he’s ever opened up to.

Close Friends (0/6): These people know him better than most, but he probably has only opened up about one or two things to them. He trusts these people and likes to be around them.

Employees: Anyone who wants to work at Roberto’s

Budding Romance (0/1): could be a fwb that progresses, someone who’s always been around but neither of them made the move to advance it past anything.

Enemies: Self explanatory, but they always butt heads in one way or another. Possibly have fought in the past, but definitely never have anything nice to say about one another.

Past relationships (0/4): People who tried to break through his walls and didn’t get through. Or they just didn’t work out for any multitude of reasons.

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/kitmeowza/c-axel-martinez/

#redridgeimp #intro #; about #//have my child #//hope this is okay

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

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Stark Spangled Banner Ch 56: Worthy

Intro: A few weeks post the Time Heist the team are finally ready to reverse the snap. The only problem is, when you mess with time it tends to mess back…

Warnings: “Language!”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

SSB Masterlist

October 2023

Katie walked over to the dresser in Nat’s room and smiled at the photos. There were a few shots, one of her with Clint, Laura and the Kids, one of her, Katie and Pepper at Tony’s wedding, but it was the biggest one that Katie reached out to pick up. It was a photo that Katie had taken in her and Steve’s back garden a few months before on Jamie’s third birthday. Nat had Jamie balanced on her hip and Emmy to her other side, hand round the teens shoulder. She was smiling, happily at the camera, almost like she had no care in the world.

“Hey.” a soft voice spoke behind her and she turned to look at Steve. He was already dressed in his Captain America suit. “I’m not even gonna ask how you got in here.” “I already had access.” Katie shrugged, replacing the photo “She had access to ours as well, although she never used it much, especially not after that time she walked in on us on the couch and got an eyeful of your ass going ten to the-“ “Yeah, yeah, I remember.” he snorted, leaning on the doorframe, the pink tinge spreading up his neck to his cheeks as he recalled the incident. There had been a lot of yelling, shrieks, giggles and one strategically placed throw cushion as he had stood up and reversed hastily to the bedroom out of view. “She told me she needed four bottles of bleach for her eyeballs.”

Katie sniggered before she sighed. “I miss her Steve.”

“I know..” he said gently, walking into the room and she melted into his arms. “I wish I could tell you it goes away but it doesn’t. You just learn to live with it. I promise it will get easier though.” Katie smiled at his words. She knew full well what living with grief was like, they’d done it enough over the past five years but he wasn’t trying to be patronising, merely trying to lend her some comfort and she loved him for that.

“Given that Halloween isn’t for another two weeks I take it you’re dressed in your Spangles for a reason?” she pulled back and he nodded.

“We’re ready.” he gave her a significant look.

Katie let out a breath. They’d been working on the gauntlet now for the past few weeks since their mission to get the stones had been successful. The team of Thor, Rocket, Tony and Banner all spending hours at a time in the lab. Given that the Time and Soul stones were the only ones they had in their true gem form that had been the first challenge. Some had been easy, all they had to do was smash open the various items they were contained within- namely the Tesseract, Sceptre and Orb. But even that had to be done in a controlled way so no stone was damaged or disturbed. Then, a slightly trickier task, they’d had to figure out how to solidify the Aether. Thor had been extremely nervous about this given his history with it and how it was able to “consume” people it decided to use as hosts. After days of brainstorming and various ideas they dismissed, Tony had come up with the idea of using the 3D printer to create a vessel, using a scan of one of the other stones. That had been what they were working on more recently, and had obviously been successful.

“So, err…it’s time?” Steve nodded “Everyone’s meeting in the lab.” he nodded to the photos on the side. “ Then we can make her sacrifice worthwhile.”

Katie followed his eye line and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll go grab my suit.” He bent down to give her a soft peck on the lips and watched her go before he turned back to cast a cursory glance around the room. It was a little untidy, but that had been Nat all over. “Organised chaos” she had described her nature as.

“You weren’t wrong Widow.” Steve said gently, before he turned and shut the door behind him, striding back to the lab.

He arrived just in time to see Tony stood by the glass case housing the gauntlet, his hand carefully manipulating the machines to cautiously place all six stones in their respective places on the Gauntlet.

“Boom!” Rocket let out a yell and both Tony and Bruce jumped a little. Tony turned to glare at the animal who was sniggering at his joke.

Steve rolled his eyes, he still wasn’t sure about the animal but he couldn’t deny he’d been useful, his knowledge filling in a lot of gaps they had.

“Ass hole.” Tony grumbled as Steve crossed the room to pick up his helmet which was lying on a desk. Tony looked up at him. “You find Kiddo?” “Exactly where I thought she’d be.” he nodded “She’s gone to suit up.” It wasn’t long before she returned with Clint and Scott. Scott was already in his Ant-Man suit, Clint in his Hawkeye get up and Katie in her leathers, the bangle that contained her Supernova suit gleaming on her wrist. Steve’s eyes travelled over everyone as they checked their various bits of equipment, and he took a deep breath. He was nervous. Everything they had been through over the past 5 years and more recently the sacrifice their best friend had made all came down to this. A literal snap of the fingers.

Eventually a silence fell over the room as everyone crowded round the gauntlet. A quick headcount told Steve they were one short, and he didn’t mean Natasha either. Nebula was absent but he assumed she was elsewhere at the request of Tony for some reason, maybe doing some checks in other areas. He was about to ask when Rocket spoke up.

“All right. The glove’s ready.” his arms folded. “Question is, who’s gonna snap their freaking fingers?”

“I’ll do it.” Thor said immediately and they all turned to face him, Lang speaking the words that were on everyone’s minds.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s okay.” Thor nodded, heading towards the gauntlet where he was immediately met with a barrage of protests from around the room.

“ No, no, no, whoa.”

“ Stop. Stop.”

“ Wait a sec. Hey, hey..”

“Wait, wait, Thor, just wait.” Steve said gently, his arm reaching out and stopping the God before he put his arm in the glove “We haven’t decided who’s gonna put that on yet.”

“I’m sorry. What, we’re just sitting around waiting for the right opportunity?” He bit back.

“We should at least discuss it.” Katie nodded, trying to appease him.

“No, no, sitting here staring at that thing is not gonna bring everybody back.” he looked at her, shaking his head “I’m the strongest Avenger, okay? So this responsibility falls upon me. It’s my duty.”

“It’s not about–“

“Look– It’s not just the fact that that glove is channeling enough energy to light up a continent, I’m telling you, you’re in no condition.” Tony shook his head.

“He’s right Thor.” Katie looked at him. “Let’s just think about it ok?”

“What do you–“ Thor shook his head as he looked from her back to Tony “What do you think is coursing through my veins right now?”

Katie took a deep breath and crossed her arms in front of her chest, looking at Steve who mimicked her action subconsciously, shaking his head slightly.

“Cheez Whiz?” Rhodey supplied from the side of the room. Thor pointed at him, shooting him a glare but all Rhodey did was shrug.

“Lightning.” he replied.

“Yeah.” Tony placated him slightly, and Steve opened his mouth to tell Thor that regardless of what he wanted, they needed to think about this some more but it was Banner who spoke first.

“Lightning won’t help you, pal. It’s gotta be me.

Thor relaxed his grip on Tony and his arms dropped to his side as he glanced at Banner.

“You saw what those stones did to Thanos. It almost killed him. None of you could survive.” the green man spoke, his eyes focussed on the red gauntlet which sat in its case as he walked towards it.

“How do we know you will?” Steve questioned as Banner passed him by.

“We don’t. But the radiation’s mostly gamma,” he said, his eyes still on the gauntlet, as if he was contemplating something. Then, with a smile he turned to look at Katie, then Tony as he spoke again. “It’s like….uh…I was made for this.”

Katie looked at Tony, before they both glanced back at Banner who smiled at them again, the siblings instantly understanding what he was referring to. Katie was suddenly catapulted back to a Hellicarrier in 2012 when the Avengers had assembled for the first time…

“Because that’s the same…” Katie said sarcastically rolling my eyes.

“The point is it’s part of me now, not just armor.” Tony ignored her as he stood opposite Banner, looking at him through you clear screen as lines of data swam across it. “It’s a… terrible privilege.

“But you can control it.” Bruce pointed out.

“Because I learned how”

“It’s different.” Bruce returned back to the computer screen but Tony slid the data aside with his fingers so the two could see face-to-face without interruption.

“Hey, I’ve read all about your accident. That much gamma exposure should have killed you.”

“That’s true…” Katie said, watching the exchange.

“So you’re saying that the Hulk…” he paused, smiling sadly as he correcting himself whilst Tony raised his eyebrows “The other guy saved my life?”

Katie looked at Tony. His eyes were flashing bright as Bruce looked back at him. Tony gave him a significant look.

“That’s nice, it’s a nice sentiment.” Bruce said as Tony moved back to his computer. “Saved it for what?”

Tony hesitated and looked up “I guess we’ll find out.

And it seemed they just had. Unlike Steve, Katie did believe in fate and destiny, certainly to an extent anyway. After everything she had seen and experienced over the past twelve years or so since first meeting Thor she couldn’t help but consider there was an element of truth in the fact that they were all pawns in a bigger game.

She glanced at Steve who was studying Banner, but made no move to stop him. He couldn’t argue with the man’s logic. Tony helped Bruce remove the gauntlet from the casing before he handed it to the Doctor.

“Good to go, yeah?” Tony asked.

Bruce nodded. “Let’s do it,”

“You remember. Everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago and just bring them back to now.” Tony reminded Bruce “Don’t change anything from the last five years,”

Bruce nodded again “Got it.”

“Good luck,” Katie encouraged before she twisted the star on her bangle causing her suit to flow over her body, Tony doing the same with his chest piece whilst Steve gripped his shield on his arm. Katie’s own shield appeared in front of her and she looked at Steve where he stood next. He flashed her a small smile which she returned before her helmet slid round her head.

“Yes boss,” she replied and around them all the facility went into lock down as shutters closed over the doors, windows and roof. Katie she stood with her feet slightly apart, in an almost identical stance to Steve, their defences raised in front of them.

Bruce looked at the gauntlet in his hand for a second. “Everybody comes home,” and with that he slid his fingers into the glove which nanobotically expanded to fit his hand. As they watched the stones lit up in different colours, the lines spreading up Bruce’s arm as their power surged up towards his shoulder and neck. He cried out in pain, almost falling and Katie watched worriedly as the man continued to shout and groan, his teeth grit together.

“Bruce?” Katie asked as Steve shifted besides her, his legs apart ready to dive in if he had to. Bruce then knelt down, face contorted in pain.

“Take it off. Take it off!” Thor cried out, starting towards him.

“No, wait.” Steve urged, holding his hand up. They knew something like this was going to happen, they’d seen the mess left of Thanos’ arm. But they couldn’t quit, not now. “ Bruce, are you okay?“

“Talk to me, Banner,” Tony demanded.

“I’m okay, I’m okay” he repeated as Thor gave him two thumbs.

After what felt like hours, Bruce slowly raised his arm. With a final grit of his teeth, he moved his fingers and everyone braced themselves. Steve moved himself in front of his wife with his shield raised, even though she was probably more protected than he was, such was his force of habit. Bruce let out a yell and his fingers snapped. Everyone shielded their eyes from the blinding white light that filled the room but it was gone as soon as it had appeared.

Steve had to admit he had expected more, but his concern at the moment was Bruce who collapsed backwards to the floor and the gauntlet slid off his hand dropping to the tiles with a clang.

“Bruce!” he called, kneeling down besides him. Clint booted the gauntlet across the room away from Banner as Tony dropped to his knee next to him.

“Don’t move him.” Tony instructed as Bruce gripped onto Steve’s arm with his left h, blinking in pain. Tony sprayed his right arm which had held the gauntlet with foam to cool him off.

“Did it work?” Bruce asked, his breathing deep.

Katie glanced around. They actually had no idea. They’d need to find out somehow. She spotted Scott walking towards the windows of the facility, the blinds sliding back as the lock down reversed.

“Worth a shot.” Thor said, clearly having already decided it hadn’t. He knelt down besides Banner “It’s okay…”

As Steve, Tony and Thor tended to Bruce, Katie stood up and watched Scott who stood by the window. She squinted and could just make out a few birds in the tree on the patio area. She swallowed slightly, whilst birds hadn’t been uncommon in the five years, they had certainly been down in numbers. It was unusual for four to be in a tree that small. She was then distracted by Clint who had given a sharp intake of breath and she spun to watch him as he picked up his phone with a shaking hand.

“Honey.” he croaked, and she watched as his face contorted into raw emotion as he struggled to speak from sheer happiness. “Honey?”

Katie took a deep breath, as her own tears threatened to overwhelm her. There was only one person that could be, and if it was her then…

“Guys, I think it worked,” Scott spoke from his spot and Katie looked at Steve who glanced up at her, his own eyes shining as he smiled.

“We did it.” Katie breathed out, looking round as she gave a watery laugh, wiping away her tears “Son of a bitch, we actually-“

But she didn’t get chance to finish her sentence as suddenly there was a huge explosion, and the ground was falling open beneath them all.

*****

Smoke. Fire. Ash. Gushing Water. That was all Katie could see, hear and feel. She was aware that FRIDAY was yelling in her ear, then she could hear Tony, and there was something crushing her into the ground further, something ridiculously heavy on her back. She tried to push herself up, but the weight was too much.

And then it was gone as fast as it had registered in her mind, and a strong arm was hoisting her to her feet.

“Little Stark?” Thor asked as she gave a groan, retracting her helmet. “Are you ok?”

“No serious injuries detected.” FRIDAY spoke in her ear and she nodded to the God.

“I take it that wasn’t the snap.” Tony mumbled as he blasted away a piece of concrete that had been pinning him down on his back. The three took a moment to look around where they were stood in the ruins of the compound, before Thor gave a lowly growl and walked to the edge of the blown apart building, looking down into the huge crater.

“No, it was him.” he nodded. Katie and Tony both joined him and Katie gave a sharp gasp as she saw Thanos in a distance, sat on a rock.

“Where’s Steve?” Katie suddenly remembered him, glancing round furiously. She engaged her helmet again and FRIDAY scanned the piles of rubble but she needn’t have bothered, she spotted him almost immediately. Her and Tony moved towards him, Tony stooping to grab his shield as Katie gently dropped to Steve’s side where he lay unconscious.

“Stevie?” she said gently, “Come on honey, wake up.” Steve in haled sharply, his eyes flying open and Katie let out a sigh of relief.

“That’s my man,“ Tony smiled, leaning down towards Steve who glanced up, his breathing evening out as he realised where he was. “Loose this again,” Tony held out the shield, “I’m keeping it.”

Steve grimaced and turned to look at his wife. “You okay?” “Yeah.” she nodded “Tony’s suits are pretty good, who knew huh?” Tony scoffed as Steve blinked, getting his bearings, before he looked around, taking in the debris and rubble of the compound “What happened?”

“You mess with time it tends to mess back,” Tony spoke gently, glancing at Katie who turned to look at Steve, her eyes wide with fear. “You’ll see.”

“Thonos?” Steve swallowed, and Katie nodded. Steve exhaled again as Tony helped him to his feet and the three of them walked over to Thor, who was stood observing Thanos from a distance.

“What’s he been doing?” Tony asked, standing to Thor’s left as Katie stood to the God’s right in between him and her husband as the four of them glanced down at the Titan.

“Absolutely nothing,” Thor’s voice was low.

Steve had no idea how the Titan was there, but he didn’t really give a shit either. There was one thing they had to do, and that was all that mattered.

“Where are the stones?” Steve asked.

“Somewhere under all this,” Katie gestured to pile of ruins under their feet. “All we know is that he doesn’t have them.”

“So we keep it that way,” Steve spoke simply, steely determination laced through his voice, his eyes not moving from the Titan.

“You know this is a trap, right?” Thor asked, his gaze also locked on the large warrior.

“Yeah. I don’t much, care,” Tony replied with a shrug.

“Good. Just as long as we’re all in agreement,” Thor nodded, and with that there was a large crack of Thunder and lightning began to surround the God as he stretched out both hands to summon Stormbreaker and Mjolnir. Katie couldn’t help but watch in awe as his casual clothes transformed into his armour and cape, with his beard flowing into a braid, giving him a distinctive Viking Warrior look.

“Good to have you back, Thunder God.” Katie smiled at him as he turned to give her a wink before he looked over her shoulder at Steve, who nodded at him.

“Let’s kill him properly this time,” Thor said.

Thor jumped off the edge of the ruins they were stood on, landing with a loud crash on the ground. Katie moved to one side of Steve, wrapping her arm around his as Tony did the same, the three of them flying forward and landing with a little more grace than Thor had done. The four of them started to walk, but Steve pulled on his wife’s arm.

“You need to promise me.” he looked at her as her helmet flew back “If this starts to go sideways…” “Bit past that.” she looked at him.

He sighed “Baby, the kids.” “Steve.” she sighed, taking a shaky breath “If we don’t get rid of him...”

She trailed off as Steve looked up at Tony and Thor who continued to advance ahead of them. He ran his hand down his face. She was right. He wanted her as far away as possible, with their kids, safe, but nothing was safe now. And if she left, and they failed she was as good as dead anyway, they all were.

“If we go, we go.” she looked at him, the tears in her eyes “We have to try or they don’t stand a chance. Whatever it takes.”

Steve couldn’t bring himself to reply. Instead he gave her a curt nod and the two of them strode forward to confront the man who had haunted their dreams for the past five years.

“You could not live with your own failure,” Thanos said as they drew closer. “Where did that bring you? Back to me. I thought by eliminating half of life, the other half would thrive. But you’ve shown me that’s impossible.”

The four of them split up, as they began to surround Thanos, circling him, whilst he spoke.

“As long as there are those that remembered what was, there are always those that are unable to accept what can be. They will resist.”

“Yeah, we’re all kinds of stubborn,” Tony continued his pacing to stand behind the Titan.

“I’m thankful, because now I know what I must do,” Thanos stood up. “I will shred this universe down to its last atom.” He reached for his helmet which had been propped up on the edge of his sword. “And then with the stones that you’ve collected for me,” he placed the helmet on top of his head, “I’ll create a new one, teeming with life,” he pulled his sword from the ground, “that knows not what is lost, only what has been given,”

There was a rush and a flash as the lighting flew round Thor’s axe and hammer, his eyes flashing as he stood to Thanos’ left as Katie placed herself to his right.

“A grateful universe,” Thanos concluded.

“Born out of blood,” Steve glared up at the man.

“They’ll never know it,” Thanos cocked his head to the right. “Because you won’t be alive to tell them.”

Thor gave out a loud cry as he surged forward, Tony and Katie both shooting into the air whilst Steve threw himself in, shield first, as the four of them worked in tandem.

It was brutal, hard, just as Steve had remembered from Wakanda only this time they were engaged directly with him, and it was fast becoming apparent that this Thanos was equally as vicious an opponent than his future self had been.

“Okay, Thor. Hit me.” Tony’s voice rang over Steve’s comms as Katie flew up out of the way of the Titan’s sword as he swung it at her, deflecting the blow from her repulsors.

As Steve launched his shield again, Thor banged his axe and hammer together, shooting Tony’s suit with lightening. Tony then shot the extra energy out using his hands and body, Katie joining him. Thanos twirled his blade in front of him, diverting the energy and Steve gave a yell as it rebounded back to Katie, her suit taking a full shot causing her to fly off to the side, colliding harshly with a huge piece of the compound structure.

With a roar of rage, Thor grabbed Stormbreaker and used it to bat his hammer to hit Thanos, who used Tony as a shield, casting the man aside. He lay motionless on the ground.

Steve launched forward but was flung away, landing with a heavy thump to the head. Jesus, he was seeing stars, but he had to get up. He glanced around and saw Katie was pushing herself up on her hands, so she was on all fours. With the ringing still in his ears he saw Thanos pounding down on Thor, Tony motionless in the background. With a loud grunt and his teeth gritting together Steve reached out to push himself up, but he paused when a sudden shock of warmth vibrated up his arm. He instantly glanced down at his hand and realised he’d flattened his palm against Thor’s hammer, not the ground. He frowned for a moment, the last time he had tried to move it, it had given a little, but he hadn’t felt anything like that. With an automatic movement, one that seemed completely out of his control, he reached out and gripped the handle, and sucked in a breath as he pulled up, and the hammer came with him.

Katie got to her feet and spun round right in time to see Mjolnir flying towards Thanos who was currently trying to push Stombreaker through Thor’s chest.

But if Thor was there then who…

The hammer whacked Thanos harshly in the side of the head, sending him flying away. It carried on for a while before it stopped, and boomeranged back right round and she followed it with her eyes as it flew into Steve’s waiting hand.

“Holy shit...” she spluttered at the same time as Thor breathed a little smugly into the comms.

“I knew it!”

Steve was wielding the hammer. Steve Rogers, the kid from Brooklyn that was too dumb to run away from a fight was worthy. But then, as Katie watched him turn to look at Thanos, hammer in hand, that determined expression on his face as he sized up his opponent, she realised there was no one else more worthy than the man who had done nothing but continually put his life on the line for others.

Thanos kicked Thor harshly in the chest sending him straight through the rock he was up against and then Steve proceeded to charge at Thanos, swinging Mjolnir and hitting him in the face knocking him down. Katie took off towards the two, as Steve launched his shield, but Thanos deflected it easily. Katie shot at him again as Steve threw the hammer into to his shield creating a shockwave and knocking Thanos back off his feet before the Captain went on the offensive, shield and hammer flying through the air again and again before he lined his arm back up and summonsed the lighting. Shooting a shock at Thanos he blasted the Titan off his feet before Katie landed in front of him giving a yell. Just as Thor had done before to Tony, he charged up her suit and she powered everything she had into the Titan as he lay on the floor.

Steve drew to her side as she unloaded but before she could say or do anything else Thanos’ sword flew back at her and she dodged out of the way, but wasn’t quite quick enough. It hit her hard in the chest and sent her skidding backwards against the floor where she collided with a metal piping, and everything went dark.

Thanos advanced on Steve, menacingly swinging his weapon and one on one, even with the hammer Steve was no match for him. He lost the hammer and after receiving a nasty stab to the leg, and gash to his arm, he could do nothing but hold his shield up to deflect the blow that was coming his way.

Only it didn’t.

Thanos’ double edged weapon sank straight into the Vibranium. Steve looked at it in shock and horror, never once had anything ever penetrated the metal, but he didn’t have chance to think about it as the blows continued. Pieces of his shield were shearing away left right and centre and then Thanos tossed him aside like he was a rag doll.

He landed harshly a few feet away from Katie and rolled onto his back, his eyes closing and his chest heaving with exertion as he felt a desperation flood his system as the faces of his kids and his wife flashed through his mind.

Steve Rogers might be worthy, but he was beat.

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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 4 years

Photo

18th October >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on

John 17:11, 17-23 for Mission Sunday (Ireland)

and on

Matthew 22:15-21 for Twenty Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A.

Mission Sunday (Ireland)

Gospel (Ireland)

John 17:11, 17-23

Holy Father, keep those you have given me true to your name, so that they may be one like us. Consecrate them in the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world, and for their sake I consecrate myself so that they too may be consecrated in truth. I pray not only for these, but for those also who through their words will come to believe in me. May they all be one. Father, may they be one in us, as you are in me and I am in you, so that the world may believe it was you who sent me. I have given them the glory you gave to me. that they may be one as we are one. With me in them and you in me, may they be so completely one that the world will realise that it was you who sent me and that I have loved them as you loved me.

Reflections (3)

(i) Mission Sunday

We sometimes use the phrase ‘on a mission’ to describe someone who is very intent on doing something or going somewhere. To be ‘on a mission’ is to be focused on a very definite goal and to invest time and energy in attaining that goal. To be asked, ‘have you a mission in life’, is to be asked whether you have a goal in life, a purpose that gives meaning to your life and that shapes your life in some very fundamental way.

Today is Mission Sunday. It is a day when we are reminded that the whole church is ‘on a mission’. Mission Sunday reminds us that the mission of the church is a continuation of the mission of Christ. The Lord wants to continue his mission today in and through the church. Jesus entrusts his mission to the church. The church cannot continue the Lord’s mission without the Lord’s help. If the church is to remain missionary, it needs to acknowledge its own poverty, and to keep on invoking the Lord’s help, without which the church can do nothing. That help from the Lord is assured, because the church’s mission is the Lord’s own mission. As Paul reminds us in today’s second reading, our mission comes ‘as power and as the Holy Spirit’.

All of us who make up the church are called to be missionary. The Lord wants to continue his mission through all of us. We may not think of ourselves as missionaries. We may consider that mission is the work of a small number of people who have been specially called and trained. Yet, the late Pope John Paul once wrote, ‘Mission cannot be left to a group of “specialists” but is the responsibility of all the members of the people of God. Those who have come into genuine contact with Christ cannot keep him for themselves; they must proclaim him’. As members of a missionary church we are all called to be missionary. The mission field is all around us. It is the place where we live and work; it is the people that we meet in the course of our day. We draw from the Lord the spiritual energy that we need to be his missionaries wherever we find ourselves. We invite the Spirit, whose coming upon the bread and wine transforms them into the body and blood of Christ, to come also upon us so that we may be continually transformed into the Lord’s missionaries. The Lord’s mission was to give himself, his very life, in the service of others. We share in the Lord’s mission by seeking to serve others as generously as he did. As Jesus says in today’s gospel reading, ‘As you have sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world’. Whenever we allow the Lord to serve others through us, he is enabled to continue his mission in the world. The missionary is the one who loves with the heart of Christ, and to this we are all called, both as parish communities and as individuals. To love and to serve with the heart of Christ is to allow the light of the gospel to shine through us. The late Archbishop Helder Camera of Recipe in Brazil described mission as ‘refusing to be locked into the problems of the little world in which we exist’. He wrote, ‘Mission is always looking outwards, reaching out beyond ourselves, our home, our community, our parish, our diocese, our nation. Mission is opening ourselves to others as brothers and sisters, discovering and encountering them, sharing their joys and sorrows’.

Today, as well as reflecting on our own call to be missionary, we are also asked to remember and assist missionaries on the front line, many of whom often work in difficult and dangerous circumstances. Every one of those missionaries would say that they could not reach out in mission to others without the support of the people in the home church. The support we can give is threefold. The first support is prayer. The second support is the offering of suffering on behalf of our missionaries. Saint Therese of Lisieux offered each painful step of her illness to assist a missionary. That is why she was proclaimed patroness of the missions, even though she had never gone beyond her convent. The third support is a financial offering. The collection taken up today enables native priests, sisters, brothers and lay leaders in the young churches to be formed in their vocation; it is also used for building simple churches and health clinics, for assisting missionaries serving refugees and for providing emergency aid in times of civil war or natural disasters. The collection goes to various Pontifical Missionary Societies who ensure that every cent goes to a mission territory. The most significant of the Pontifical Missionary Societies is the Society for the Propagation of the Faith. This particular Missionary Society was founded in 1822 by a French woman, Pauline Jaricot. She saw the Society as a vehicle for helping not just French missions and missionaries but all missions and missionaries, especially the poorest. One hundred years later, in 1922, it became the primary organization of the Church for support the activity of missionaries. The bulk of today’s national collection will go to that Society.

And/Or

(ii) Mission Sunday

Today is Mission Sunday and the second collection today will be taken up for what is termed the Pontifical Mission Societies. The purpose of these Mission Societies is to support the church in mission territories such as Botswana, Gambia, Guinea, Lesotho, Namibia, Uganda and the Philippines. There are a number of Pontifical Mission Societies, but the largest and most significant is the Society of the Propagation of the Faith. This Society was founded by a French laywoman in 1822, Pauline Jaricot. She wished to help not only French missions and missionaries but all missions and missionaries, especially the poorest. It was Pauline who drew up the basic plan of the Society, which consisted in supporting the work of missions and missionaries by prayer, the offering of one’s suffering and the giving of material support. In 1922, the Society became the primary organization of the church for supporting the activity of missionaries. Pope Pius XI instituted Mission Sunday in 1926 as a day of prayer and material support for missionary activity. The collection that is taken up in churches throughout Ireland today will be sent in its entirety to missionary churches to support current missionaries in their witness to the faith. The collection enables native priests, sisters, brothers and lay catechists to be formed in their vocation. It is also used for the support of pastoral centres, the formation of lay leaders, and the building of simple churches and health clinics. Some of it is set aside for emergency aid in times of civil war or natural disasters, and for assisting missionaries who are serving refugees.

In his message for Mission Sunday this year, Pope Benedict states that ‘present in the Eucharist is the same Redeemer who saw needy crowds and was filled with compassion because they were harassed and dejected like sheep without a shepherd’. He remarks that ‘it is in his name that pastoral workers and missionaries travel unexplored paths to carry the bread of salvation to all… spurred on by the knowledge that, united with Christ, it is possible to meet the deepest longings of the human heart. Jesus alone – the Pope says – can satisfy humanity’s hunger for love and thirst for justice; he alone makes it possible for every human person to share in eternal life’.

Even though very few of us here today will end up travelling unexplored paths to carry the bread of salvation to others, there is a very real sense in which we are all called to be missionary. As the Pope says in his message of Mission Sunday, ‘those of us who nourish ourselves with the body and blood of the crucified and risen Lord cannot keep this gift to ourselves; on the contrary, we must share it’. We are called to share the Christ we receive in the Eucharist, to become Christ for others. Peter in today’s second reading refers to that calling as ‘living a good life in Christ’. Peter goes on to say that Christ died to lead us to God. Indeed, we can say that Christ lived, died and rose from the dead to lead us to God. To live a good life in Christ, therefore, is to live in such a way that our lives lead others to God. Christ wants to lead others to God through us. It is sobering to realize that our calling as baptized Christians is to lead each other to God. That is what it means to be missionary. In that sense we are each called to be a John the Baptist. John’s role was to lead people to God - to lead people to Christ, and, through him, to God. Our calling too is to live in such a way that our lives create an opening for others to encounter Christ and thereby to find God.

To lead others to God is one of the most important ways we can express our love for them. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus is asked his view as to which of the 614 commandments of the Law is the greatest one. In his reply to this question, Jesus not only gives the most important commandment, but he names the second most important commandment as well. In making this connection, Jesus was showing that these two commandments are inseparable. In other words, our love of God has to be neighbour-centred and our love of neighbour has to be God-centred. In what way can our love of neighbour be God-centred? In his Prayer Inspired by the Our Father, St. Francis of Assisi prays as follows: ‘May we love our neighbour as ourselves, by drawing them all with our whole strength to the love of God’. For Francis we love our neighbour as ourselves by leading them to God, by drawing them to the love of God, helping them to experience God’s love for them and to love God in return. His understanding of love of neighbour was very God-centred.

There is always the danger of disconnecting the first and second commandment. The worship and service of God can, at times, go hand in hand with the oppression, the abuse, the damaging of others. Likewise, the love of neighbour can sit alongside an almost total forgetfulness of God. Jesus would insist on holding those two loves together, and he would put the love of God before love of neighbour. The worship and love of God is our first service. The respect and love of the neighbour, who is God’s image, flows logically from that first love. If we strive to hold those two loves together, while giving priority to the love of God, then our love of neighbour will be God-centred, our love of others will in some way reveal God to them and lead them to God. In other words, our love of others will be missionary. That is the kind of love to which this Mission Sunday calls all of us.

And/Or

(iii) Mission Sunday

We can think of mission as something that is the responsibility of others. It belongs to priests and religious, and it involves travel to distant parts. Today, Mission Sunday, reminds us that the whole church is missionary, and that each of us, in virtue of our baptism, has a role to play in the church’s mission. To be a member of the church is to be missionary. To believe is to witness to our belief.

Each of us, in different ways, can be a little like Peter in the gospel reading. We can be slow to take ourselves seriously as missionaries. After Peter’s experience of the wonderful catch of fish, he may have sensed that the Lord had something in mind for him to do. He attempted to head Jesus off, as it were, with his cry, ‘Leave me, Lord; I am a sinful man’. Overcome by his own sense of inadequacy and unworthiness, he sought to put as much distance as possible between himself and Jesus. As far as he was concerned, he was merely a fisherman, and not always a very successful one. Perhaps the experience of working hard all night and catching nothing was not new to him. Yet, Jesus recognized that this fisherman, and others like him, could draw people to God. Jesus did not take his leave of Peter, as Peter had suggested. Rather, he called Peter to accompany him and to share in his mission.

The gospels are full of Peters - people from all walks of life who, in various ways, share in Jesus’ mission and witness to him before others. Many of these would not have been regarded as ‘religious’ in the usual sense of that word at the time. They would not have thought of themselves as potential missionaries. We need only think of the leper who ‘began to spread the word’ after his healing (Mk 1:45), the demon possessed man from the country of the Gerasenes who ‘began to proclaim in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him’ (Mk 5:20), the parents who brought children to Jesus that he might bless them (Mk 10:13), the Samaritan woman who brought the people of her town to Jesus, the nameless woman who anointed Jesus’ feet head with precious ointment, and whose good deed Jesus declared to be part of the gospel (Mk 14:9), the Roman centurion who publicly declared that the crucified Jesus was the Son of God (Mk 15:39). The list could go on. Here are men and women from all walks of life who proclaimed the gospel by their words and deeds.

We are all invited to join the company of these men and women. When Jesus called upon the seventy two to ‘ask the Lord of the harvest to send labourers into his harvest’, he had all of us in mind. There is a role for each one of us in the Lord’s harvest. We each have a part to play in the Lord’s mission. There is a task for each of us to do, which, if not done by us, cannot be done by anyone else. We each have a unique set of opportunities to reveal the Lord to others, and to allow those around us to experience the Lord in us. It is not easy to share our faith in the culture in which we live. Faith in God has come to be regarded as something private, like our pin number. Yet, by definition, to believe is to witness to our belief. The very public act of going to Mass on a Sunday is one form of witness. In today’s culture where church attendance is declining, such a public act can be more powerful than ever before. Yet, there is more to witnessing and to being missionary than going to church. We are called to be witnesses in our homes, in our schools and colleges, in our offices and our factories, in our supermarkets and our places of recreation. We are called to bring the values of the gospel into all the contexts in which we live, and, also to recognize and to affirm the gospel values that are already there.

The call of Peter in today’s gospel reading began with Jesus asking him to put out a little from the shore. Jesus subsequently asked him to put out into deep water. The call to put out into the deep can sound rather daunting to us. We may not be ready to launch out into the deep. Perhaps the Lord may only be asking us, for the moment, to put out a little from the shore. There may be some small step we can take to become more missionary in the living of our faith. When Jesus appointed the twelve, he first called them to be with him, and only after some time did he send them out (Mk 3:14, 6:7). The call to mission begins with the call to be present to Jesus. The first small step the Lord may be asking of us in becoming more missionary could be to become more prayerful. Our prayerful communion with the Lord of the harvest prepares us to be labourers in the harvest of the Lord. We pray for the freedom to take whatever small step the Lord may be asking of us this Mission Sunday.

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Twenty Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

Gospel (Except USA)

Matthew 22:15-21

Give back to Caesar what belongs to Caesar

The Pharisees went away to work out between them how to trap Jesus in what he said. And they sent their disciples to him, together with the Herodians, to say, ‘Master, we know that you are an honest man and teach the way of God in an honest way, and that you are not afraid of anyone, because a man’s rank means nothing to you. Tell us your opinion, then. Is it permissible to pay taxes to Caesar or not?’ But Jesus was aware of their malice and replied, ‘You hypocrites! Why do you set this trap for me? Let me see the money you pay the tax with.’ They handed him a denarius, and he said, ‘Whose head is this? Whose name?’ ‘Caesar’s’ they replied. He then said to them, ‘Very well, give back to Caesar what belongs to Caesar – and to God what belongs to God.’

Gospel (USA)

Matthew 22:15–21

Repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.

The Pharisees went off and plotted how they might entrap Jesus in speech. They sent their disciples to him, with the Herodians, saying, “Teacher, we know that you are a truthful man and that you teach the way of God in accordance with the truth. And you are not concerned with anyone’s opinion, for you do not regard a person’s status. Tell us, then, what is your opinion: Is it lawful to pay the census tax to Caesar or not?” Knowing their malice, Jesus said, “Why are you testing me, you hypocrites? Show me the coin that pays the census tax.” Then they handed him the Roman coin. He said to them, “Whose image is this and whose inscription?” They replied, “Caesar’s.” At that he said to them, “Then repay to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.”

Reflections (2)

(i) Twenty Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Image is very important in our media-conscious age. How someone looks can make a bigger impact than what they say. Yet, we are aware that image is not everything. We expect people to live up to the image they present. We look to people to be authentic, and we tend to value authenticity more than image. We resent it when someone appears in a guise that does not correspond to who they really are.

In today’s gospel reading, Jesus is approached by people who begin by flattering him, ‘Master, we know that you are an honest man and that you teach the way of God in an honest way’. Yet, their flattery was deceptive, because their real intent was to trap Jesus, to get him to say something that would leave him at odds either with the people or with the Roman authorities. Their friendly and flattering image was a cover for great hostility. The image did not correspond to the reality.

When Jesus requested a coin from the pockets of his questioners, he showed it to them and asked them, ‘Whose image and inscription is this?’ The coin had an image of the emperor on it. Behind that image was the reality that this coin belonged to the emperor and should be given to him, and, so, Jesus said ‘give back to Caesar what belongs to Caesar’. However, Jesus immediately goes on to say, ‘and (give) to God what belongs to God’. We might well ask: ‘If the coin with its image of the emperor belongs to the emperor, what is it that belongs to God?’ Each one of us bears the image of God, and therefore, it is we ourselves who belong to God. Jesus was reminding his questioners that, whereas the coin in their pockets belongs to the emperor, they themselves belong to God, and they must live and behave as people who belong to God. They must give themselves first and foremost to God, and not to the emperor or anyone or anyone else.

If the same question were to be asked of us that Jesus asked in relation to the coin - ‘Whose image is this?’ - the answer would have to be, ‘God’s image’. Because we are God’s image, we belong to God, and we strive to live our lives accordingly. We are called to live as people who bear God’s image, who belong to God. What we owe to God is far more fundamental than what they owe to anyone else. The gospel reading proclaims that the basic loyalty in our lives must be to God. In the words of today’s first reading, ‘I am the Lord, unrivalled; there is no other God besides me’.

Every other human loyalty is subordinate to that fundamental loyalty in our lives. We owe allegiance to the State, but we owe a greater allegiance to God as Jesus has revealed God. As Christians, our primary allegiance is to the values that Jesus proclaimed and lived. It can happen that people’s allegiance to the gospel puts them in conflict with the State. That was certainly true of the time of Jesus and of the time when the evangelists were writing their gospels. The Roman emperor was considered divine, and those who lived in the Empire were expected to honour the emperor as a god, to worship him. The refusal of Christians to do so resulted in their execution. In more recent times, many Christians who refused to submit to the ideology of the Nazi state were put to death. The great Protestant pastor and theologian, Dietrich Bonheoffer, and the Catholic priest, Maximilian Kolbe, come to mind. There were many others, laymen and women, whose commitment to the values of the Lord at that time resulted in their death.

Today, the pressure on us to compromise the values of the gospel comes less from the State and more from the society and culture in which we live. We can find ourselves under all kinds of subtle pressures to buy into ways of doing things that are in conflict with the values of the gospel. We are called to live as the image of God, the image of Christ. However, the culture in which we live can sometimes offer us other, very different, images to identify with and to live out of. As people who belong to God, we are called to give all areas of our lives to God, to allow God and his Son to shape all the areas of our lives. Yet, the culture of which we are apart can attempt to put a very different shape on some areas of our lives.

When Paul wrote to the members of the church in Thessalonica, he was aware that they were under this same kind of pressure. Yet, at the beginning of his letter, he thanks God for them because they had resisted this pressure. He remembers with gratitude their faith in action, their work of love and their persevering hope. These early Christians can be our model and inspiration. They show us that we can give to God what belongs to God, even when under pressure to do otherwise. We can give to God in this way because of all that God has given to us. In the words of the first reading, God has called us by our name. God has given his Son to us and at this Eucharist we receive anew this great gift. Strengthened by this ongoing gift that God makes to us, we are enabled to live in such a way that we give to God all that belongs to God.

And/Or

(ii) Twenty Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Taxation has always been a contentious issue. We all appreciate that we need to pay taxes if the Government is to have the necessary financial resources to run the country. The issue is around how much tax we should be paying. Taxation was even more contentious in the time of Jesus because the taxation authorities were the occupying power, the forces of Rome. The question that is put to Jesus in today’s gospel reading was a highly contentious one, ‘Is it permissible to pay taxes to Caesar or not?’ Many of Jesus’ Jewish contemporaries, like the Pharisees, would have given a clear ‘no’ to that question, because they believed that to pay taxes to Rome was to recognize Rome’s legitimacy. Other Jews, like the Herodians, the followers of Herod, would have givena resounding ‘yes’ to that question because they had a vested interest in the status quo and were doing very nicely out of the Roman occupation. The gospel reading says that the people who asked Jesus the question, the Pharisees and the Herodians, were setting out to trap his. They hoped that no matter how he answered he would end up losing face.

In response to the question of the Pharisees and the Herodians, Jesus asked for the money that they pay the poll tax with; the fact that they were able to produce the coin so quickly indicated their own willingness to pay the tax. Noticing that the image of Caesar was on one side of the coin, Jesus declared, ‘Give back to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God’. This is one of those many enigmatic sayings of Jesus in the gospels. The emphasis in that saying seems to be on the second part, ‘give to God what belongs to God’. What exactly is it that belongs to God, which should be given to God? Jesus would answer that question by saying that we as human beings belong to God because we are made in God’s image. Because we belong to God, we have to give ourselves to God. If Caesar’s image is on the Roman coin and, therefore, the coin can be given to Caesar, God’s image is on each one of us, and, therefore, we are to give ourselves to God. In next Sunday’s gospel reading Jesus spells out a little more what it means to give ourselves to God. Once again the religious authorities ask Jesus a question - ‘Teacher, which commandment in the Law is the greatest?’ Jesus answers, ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind’. As people made in the image of God, this is what we owe to God, according to Jesus, a love that embraces the whole person. It is clear that Jesus is saying that no one else is to be loved in this way. There is no one else to whom we are to give ourselves to this extent. Jesus would certainly be saying to his contemporaries that they are not to give themselves in this total way to Caesar who sits on his throne in Rome. This was quite a subversive statement in the context of the time, because Roman emperors thought of themselves and wanted to be recognized as ‘sons of God’. The Emperors, in other words, demanded absolute allegiance, the kind of allegiance that was due to a diving figure. For Jesus, of course, there was only one God, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God whom he addressed as Abba, Father. Besides this God there is no other God; Jesus claimed to be the unique spokesperson for this one God and he declares that it is to this one, true God, that we belong, and because we belong to God we are to give him ourselves, all our heart, soul and mind, in love. We give ourselves fully in love to God because God has given himself fully in love to us through his Son. Jesus was saying, Caesar can have the coins that belong to him and bear his image, but that’s it.

Jesus is declaring in today’s gospel reading that all of human life belongs to God. It is not the case that there is a bit of our lives that belongs to Caesar or to whatever political authority is in power and then another bit that belongs to God. There is nothing in human life that is outside our relationship to God. In that sense there is no sphere in life that is purely secular; there is no area of life in which we are dispensed from living out to the best of our ability our relationship with God in Christ and through the Spirit. In fact, the secular is the normal setting in which we give expression to our spirituality. In everything that we say and do we strive to give glory and honour to God, to please God, to do God’s will as Jesus has revealed it. In today’s second reading Paul praises the church in Thessalonica, the capital of the Roman province of Macedonia, for the ways they have shown their faith in action, worked for love and persevered through hope in our Lord Jesus Christ. Paul gives us there a very fine summary of what it means for us to give to God what belongs to God.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

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bonesandblood-sunandmoon · 4 years

Link

Article from The Atlantic “This Is Not a Normal Mental Health Disaster” (posted July 7th, 2020). Excerpt:

In any case, the full extent of the fallout will not come into focus for some time. Psychological disorders can be slow to develop, and as a result, the Textbook of Disaster Psychiatry, which Morganstein helped write, warns that demand for mental-health care may spike even as a pandemic subsides. “If history is any indicator,” Morganstein says of COVID-19, “we should expect a significant tail of mental-health effects, and those could be extraordinary.” Taylor worries that the virus will cause significant upticks in obsessive-compulsive disorder, agoraphobia, and germaphobia, not to mention possible neuropsychiatric effects, such as chronic fatigue syndrome.

The coronavirus may also change the way we think about mental health more broadly. Perhaps, Schoch-Spana says, the prevalence of pandemic-related psychological conditions will have a destigmatizing effect. Or perhaps it will further ingrain that stigma: We’re all suffering, so can’t we all just get over it? Perhaps the current crisis will prompt a rethinking of the American mental-health-care system. Or perhaps it will simply decimate it.

Shared in entirety under the cut for those who can’t access it:

This Is Not a Normal Mental Health Disaster by Jacob Stern

If SARS is any lesson, the psychological effects of the novel coronavirus will long outlast the pandemic itself.

The SARS pandemic tore through Hong Kong like a summer thunderstorm. It arrived abruptly, hit hard, and then was gone. Just three months separated the first infection, in March 2003, from the last, in June.

But the suffering did not end when the case count hit zero. Over the next four years, scientists at the Chinese University of Hong Kong discovered something worrisome. More than 40 percent of SARS survivors had an active psychiatric illness, most commonly PTSD or depression. Some felt frequent psychosomatic pain. Others were obsessive-compulsive. The findings, the researchers said, were “alarming.”

The novel coronavirus’s devastating hopscotch across the United States has long surpassed the three-month mark, and by all indications, it will not end anytime soon. If SARS is any lesson, the secondary health effects will long outlast the pandemic itself.

Already, a third of Americans are feeling severe anxiety, according to Census Bureau data, and nearly a quarter show signs of depression. A recent poll by the Kaiser Family Foundation found that the pandemic had negatively affected the mental health of 56 percent of adults. In April, texts to a federal emergency mental-health line were up 1,000 percent from the year before. The situation is particularly dire for certain vulnerable groups—health-care workers, COVID-19 patients with severe cases, people who have lost loved ones—who face a significant risk of post-traumatic stress disorder. In overburdened intensive-care units, delirious patients are seeing chilling hallucinations. At least two overwhelmed emergency medical workers have taken their own life.

To some extent, this was to be expected. Depression, anxiety, PTSD, substance abuse, child abuse, and domestic violence almost always surge after natural disasters. And the coronavirus is every bit as much a disaster as any wildfire or flood. But it is also something unlike any wildfire or flood. “The sorts of mental-health challenges associated with COVID-19 are not necessarily the same as, say, generic stress management or the interventions from wildfires,” says Steven Taylor, a psychiatrist at the University of British Columbia and the author of The Psychology of Pandemics (published, fortuitously, in October 2019). “It’s very different in important ways.”

Most people are resilient after disasters, and only a small percentage develop chronic conditions. But in a nation of 328 million, small percentages become large numbers when translated into absolute terms. And in a nation where, even under ordinary circumstances, fewer than half of the millions of adults with a mental illness receive treatment, those large numbers are a serious problem. A wave of psychological stress unique in its nature and proportions is bearing down on an already-ramshackle American mental-health-care system, and at the moment, Taylor told me, “I don’t think we’re very well prepared at all.”

Most disasters affect cities or states, occasionally regions. Even after a catastrophic hurricane, for example, normalcy resumes a few hundred miles away. Not so in a pandemic, says Joe Ruzek, a longtime PTSD researcher at Stanford University and Palo Alto University: “In essence, there are no safe zones any more.”

As a result, Ruzek told me, certain key tenets of disaster response no longer hold up. People cannot congregate at a central location to get help. Psychological first-aid workers cannot seek out strangers on street corners. To be sure, telemedicine has its advantages—it eliminates the logistical and financial burdens of transportation, and some people simply find it more comfortable—but it complicates outreach and can pose problems for older people, who have borne the brunt of the coronavirus.

A pandemic, unlike an earthquake or a fire, is invisible, and that makes it all the more anxiety-inducing. “You can’t see it, you can’t taste it, you just don’t know,” says Charles Benight, a psychology professor at the University of Colorado at Colorado Springs who specializes in post-disaster recovery. “You look outside, and it seems fine.”

From spatial uncertainty comes temporal uncertainty. If we can’t know where we are safe, then we can’t know when we are safe. When a wildfire ends, the flames subside and the smoke clears. “You have an event, and then you have the rebuild process that’s really demarcated,” Benight told me. “It’s not like a hurricane goes on for a year.” But pandemics do not respect neat boundaries: They come in waves, ebbing and flowing, blurring crisis into recovery. One month, New York flares up and Arizona is calm. The next, the opposite.

That ambiguity could make it harder for people to be resilient. “It’s sort of like running down a field to score a goal, and every 10 yards they move the goal,” Benight said. “You don’t know what you’re targeting.” In this sense, Ruzek said, someone struggling with the psychological effects of the pandemic is less like a fire survivor than a domestic-violence victim still living with her abuser, or a traumatized soldier still deployed overseas. Mental-health professionals can’t reassure them that the danger has passed, because the danger has not passed. One can understand why, in a May survey by researchers at the University of Chicago, 42 percent of respondents reported feeling hopeless at least one day in the past week.

A good deal of this uncertainty was inevitable. Pandemics, after all, are confusing. But coordinated, cool-headed, honest messaging from government officials and public-health experts would have gone a long way toward allaying undue anxiety. The World Health Organization, for all the good it has done to contain the virus, has repeatedly bungled the communications side of the crisis. Last month, a WHO official claimed that asymptomatic spread of the virus is “very rare”—only to clarify the next day, after a barrage of criticism from outside public-health experts, that “we don’t actually have that answer yet.” In February, officials from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention told Americans to prepare for “disruption to everyday life that may be severe,” then, just days later, said, “The American public needs to go on with their normal lives,” then went mostly dark for the next three months. Health experts are not without blame either: Their early advice about masks was “a case study in how not to communicate with the public,” wrote Zeynep Tufekci, an information-science professor at the University of North Carolina and an Atlantic contributing writer.

The White House, for its part, has repeatedly contradicted the states, the CDC, and itself. The president has used his platform to spread misinformation. In a moment when public health—which is to say, tens of thousands of lives—depends on national unity and clear messaging, the pandemic has become a new front in the partisan culture wars. Monica Schoch-Spana, a medical anthropologist at the Johns Hopkins Center for Health Security, told me that “political and social marginalization can exacerbate the psychological impacts of the pandemic.”

Schoch-Spana has previously written about the 1918 influenza pandemic. Lately, she says, people have been asking her how the coronavirus compares. She is always quick to point out a crucial difference: When the flu emerged in America at the end of a brutal winter, the nation was mobilized for war. Relative unity prevailed, and a spirit of collective self-sacrifice was in the air. At the time, the U.S. was reckoning with its enemies. Now we are reckoning with ourselves.

One thing that is certain about the current pandemic is that we are not doing enough to address its mental-health effects. Usually, says Joshua Morganstein, the chair of the American Psychiatric Association’s Committee on the Psychiatric Dimensions of Disaster, the damage a disaster does to mental health ends up costing more than the damage it does to physical health. Yet of the $2 trillion that Congress allocated for pandemic relief through the CARES Act, roughly one-50th of 1 percent—or $425 million—was earmarked for mental health. In April, more than a dozen mental-health organizations called on Congress to apportion $38.5 billion in emergency funding to protect the nation’s existing treatment infrastructure, plus an additional $10 billion for pandemic response.

Without broad, systematic studies to gauge the scope of the problem, though, it will be hard to determine with any precision either the appropriate amount of funding or where that funding is needed. Taylor told me that “governments are throwing money at this problem at the moment without really knowing how big a problem it will be.”

In addition to studies assessing the scope of the problem, which demographics most need help, and what kind of help they need, Ruzek told me researchers should assess how well intervention efforts are working. Even in ordinary times, he said, we don’t do enough of that. Such studies are especially important now because, until recently, disaster mental-health protocols for pandemics were an afterthought. By necessity, researchers are designing and implementing them all at once.

“Disaster mental-health workers have never been trained in anything about this,” Ruzek said. “They don’t know what to say.”

Even so, the basic principles will be the same. Disaster mental-health specialists often talk about the five core elements of intervention—calming, self-efficacy, connectedness, hope, and a sense of safety—and those apply now as much as ever. At an organizational level, the response will depend on extensive screening, which is to the mental-health side of the pandemic roughly what testing is to the physical-health side. In disaster situations—and especially in this one—the people in need of mental-health support vastly outnumber the people who can supply it. So disaster psychologists train armies of volunteers to provide basic support and identify people at greater risk of developing long-term problems.

“There are certain things that we can still put into place for people based on what we’ve learned about what’s helpful for PTSD and for depression and for anxiety, but we have to adjust it a bit,” says Patricia Watson, a psychologist at the National Center for PTSD. “This is a different dance than the dance that we’ve had for other types of disasters.”

Some states have moved quickly to learn the new steps. In Colorado, Benight is helping to train volunteer resilience coaches to support members of their community and, when necessary, refer them to formal crisis-counseling programs. His team has also worked with volunteers in 31 states, the United Kingdom, and Australia.

Colorado’s approach is not the sort of rigorously tested, evidence-based model to which Ruzek said disaster psychologists should aspire. Then again, “we’re sitting here with not a lot of options,” says Matthew Boden, a research scientist in the Veterans Health Administration’s mental-health and suicide-prevention unit. “Something is better than nothing.”

In 2013, reflecting on the tenth anniversary of the SARS pandemic, newspapers in Hong Kong described a city scarred by plague. When COVID-19 arrived there seven years later, they did so again. SARS had traumatized that city, but it had also prepared it. Face masks had become commonplace. People used tissues to press elevator buttons. Public spaces were sanitized and resanitized. In New York City, COVID-19 has killed more than 22,600 people; in Hong Kong, a metropolis of nearly the same size, it has killed seven. The city has learned from its scars.

America, too, will bear the scars of plague. Maybe next time, we will be the ones who have learned.

#coronavirus or covid-19 #mental health

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bojasonwalker · 4 years

Text

All of Ariana Grande’s 40+ tattoos and their meanings, explained

By Melissa Minton

Updated: October 23, 2020 | 3:51pm

Ariana Grande

Getty Images

Ariana Grande may only be 27 years old, but she already has more tattoos than candles on her birthday cake.

The “Thank U, Next” singer is covered in tributes to her dogs, celestial designs, Harry Potter references, song lyrics and more designs, many of which were done by her go-to tattoo artist Girl Knew York.

See below for all of Grande’s tattoos and their meanings.

Family

“Bellissima” and “Babydoll”

She has “Bellissima” and “Babydoll” — both nicknames given to Grande by her late grandfather, Frank — on her ribs and middle finger, respectively.

561

Ariana inked 561, the area code for Boca Raton, Florida, where she grew up, on her thumb.

Hebrew letters

Instagram

On another finger, Ariana has the Hebrew letters aleph, lamed and daled, which signify the 10th name in the 72 names of God, a Kabbalah teaching. Her brother Frankie Grande got a similar design at the same time; the two abandoned Catholicism in favor of the Judaism-based faith after learning about the Church’s stance against homosexuality.

Toulouse

One of the many cast of characters in the Grande family is her dog Toulouse. The pup is so important to the singer that she had her name added to her tattoo glove.

Celestial and Nature

Sun, Moon and Stars

In December 2018, the pop star celebrated being named Billboard’s 2018 Woman of the Year by getting a hand tattoo just after the awards show, during which she pronounced 2018 the best year of her career but the worst of her personal life. The celestial design of a sun, moon and stars covers the back of the singer’s left hand; her grandmother Marjorie “Nonna” Grande even joined for the session, getting “Ciccio” (the Italian nickname for her late husband) tattooed on her finger.

Saturn

In November 2019, she added a Saturn to the planets on the back of her hand.

Crescent Moon and Stars

In November 2018, she added a crescent moon and stars on her left foot. She has another crescent moon on the left side of her neck, which was a reference to her song “Moonlight” off her third album, “Dangerous Woman.”

Vine

Covering up a Harry Potter-related “9 3/4” tattoo for unknown reasons, Grande now sports a vine around her index finger.

Butterflies

At the 2020 Grammys, Grande shut the red carpet down in an oversized Giambattista Valli blue dress exploding in layers of tulle and ruffles. Above her opera-length gloves, she debuted new butterfly tattoo on her upper arm. A few months later, Ari added a second butterfly just underneath.

Flower

Youtube

On Ariana’s birthday in June 2020, friend Markell Malcolm posted a photo revealing a flower design on the star’s palm. It can also be seen in her new “Positions” music video and appears to be a sakura flower.

Laurel leaves

Around her wrist, completing her left hand glove, is a laurel leaf design, accented with dots.

Anime and Movies

Eevee

At the start of 2019, Ariana revealed a giant portrait of the Pokémon Eevee on her upper arm. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” Grande captioned her Instagram snap, shortly after revealing she played the game on her Nintendo Switch “for fifteen hours.”

Chihiro

Ariana Grande talks with Alicia Keys at the 2018 Billboard Women in Music Awards — and shows off her Chihiro arm tattoo.

Getty Images

On Aug. 29, 2018, she revealed a large tattoo of Chihiro, a character from “Spirited Away,” on the inside of her right arm. “Chihiro’s growth into a capable individual is a core factor to the movement of Spirited Away‘s plot,” Grande wrote on her Instagram Story at the time. “During her adventure in the Spirit World, she matures from an easily-scared girl with a child-like personality to match her age to a hard-working, responsible and brave young girl who has learned to put her fears aside for those she cares for.”

In perhaps the most telling line, Grande also wrote: “To protect her friends and rescue her parents from a spell that has turned them into livestock, Chihiro sheds her former personality and adapts to her environment to become a courageous, quick-witted and reliable girl.”

Lumos

Ariana is obsessed with “Harry Potter.” She has the word “Lumos” (a light-conjuring spell from the book series) inked on her hand.

Truman Show Quote

Getty Images

On June 20, 2019, Ariana cemented her love of Jim Carrey with a quote from “The Truman Show” on the back of her left shoulder, written upside down. It reads, “In case I don’t see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight!”

Music

“Let’s Sing”

She rang in 2019 by getting the words “let’s sing” inked in Japanese just above her elbow, which revealed her plan to release even more music — even though her album “Sweetener” only dropped in August. Later, her “Thank U, Next” album release shocked the world one month later.

R.E.M

In a nod to her “Sweetener” track of the same name, Ariana has the dreamy letters inked behind her ear.

Honeymoon

Instagram

On her fingers, Grande has the word “honeymoon,” a reference to her song “Honeymoon Avenue.”

Heart

Twitter

Grande’s first-ever tattoo was a heart on the second toe of her right foot, which she acquired in 2012 when she turned 18 years old. It’s a reference to her song “Tattooed Heart” off of the album “Yours Truly.”

“7 Rings”/ Japanese BBQ Grill

Instagram

What was intended to be an ode to her single turned out to be a nightmare for Grande. In early 2019, Ariana showed off a painful hand tattoo of Japanese kanji letters that was meant to translate to “7 Rings.” However, social media immediately blew up when native speakers realized that because of the placement of the characters, the actual translation added up to “Japanese BBQ grill” or “tiny charcoal grill” in English. Grande went back to her artist more than once to fix the error, adding a heart to round out the design and correct its meaning. The intended message is only clear if you read (uncustomarily) from top to bottom then left to right.

She tweeted (and later deleted) a rant at the end of the controversy. “I can’t read or write kanji obviously. what do you want me to do? it was done out of love and appreciation. what do you want me to say?” She continued, “u kno how many people make this mistake and DON’T care just cause they like how it looks? bruh … i care soooo much. what would you like me to do or say? forreal.”

SWT

In December 2019, at the culmination of her “Sweetener/Thank U, Next” world tour, Grande and her team got matching tattoos on their hands to commemorate the experience. While Ariana chose the shortened “SWT,” others got dates and numbers with unclear significance.

Pete Davidson tattoos

H2GKMO, Reborn, Cloud hand tattoos

While dating Pete Davidson, Grande and her former fiancé showed their love for one another with multiple matching tattoos. The pair both got the acronym “H2GKMO” — which means “honest to god knock me out” — and the word “REBORN” on the side of their hands, along with matching cloud tattoos.

Always

Grande has the word “always” across her rib cage in what appears to be the “SNL” star’s handwriting, which is a reference to Lily Potter and Severus Snape’s love story in “Harry Potter.”

8418

She had the numbers 8418 (the badge number of the comedian’s firefighter father, who died on September 11) added across the top of her left ankle in June 2018.

Pete

She also got “Pete” tattooed across her left ring finger.

Post-breakup cover-ups

Ariana Grande’s latest tattoo cover-up

Instagram ; Getty Images

In the days following their split, Grande and Davidson both went to work covering up or altering their matching ink. Grande covered the hand tats with a floral olive branch leaf. She also replaced the late Mr. Davidson’s badge number with “Myron,” the name of her dog, whom she co-adopted with ex-boyfriend Mac Miller and who now lives with her full-time following the rapper’s death.

After Grande released her “Thank U, Next,” music video, fans also noticed that she’d inked a black heart over her “Pete” finger tattoo. It is unclear whether she has altered (or plans to alter) her cloud tattoo.

In March 2019, Grande evolved her “always” tattoo by adding a creeping leaf design horizontally across her rib cage.

Other

Lightning bolt and black heart

Behind her ear, the pop star has three small tattoos — R.E.M, a tiny black heart (which Pete Davidson’s rep told Page Six he later copied) and a lightning bolt, likely a reference to “Harry Potter.”

“Mille Tendresse”

Her second tattoo was the French phrase “mille tendresse,” a line from “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” which Davidson also copied.

Venus symbol

Getty Images

On the top of one of her fingers, Ariana has a Venus symbol, which denotes the female sex.

Manchester Bee

Perhaps the most meaningful tattoo in Grande’s collection is the bee behind her left ear. She got the ink as a tribute to the 22 people who were killed during the May 22, 2017 terrorist attack at her “Dangerous Woman” concert. The symbol of Manchester, England, where the concert took place, is the worker bee; Grande hosted the One Love Manchester benefit concert two weeks after the attack, and later posted an emoji of the insect when she was made an honorary citizen of the city. She debuted the ink two days after the one-year anniversary of the attack.

Not all of her ink has such significance: Grande has the word “hi” on her toe.

Court

In dedication to childhood friend Courtney Chipolone, Ariana inked the word “court” on her knee as a play on words.

Snapchat

She also has the letter “A” on her thumb to honor friend Alexa Luria.

Heart

The outline of a heart on her right ring finger — which matches the one on her toe — is just one of many hand tattoos.

Baby

In May 2020, eagle-eyed fans spotted the word “baby” near the butterflies on Ariana’s upper arm, though it’s unknown when she had it inked.

Mystery tattoos

As if more than 40 separate tattoos in 2020 weren’t enough, there are a scant few that fans have only partially glimpsed. There are words on the inside of her right index finger, an unfilled shape on the inside of her left ankle and a string of letters (or perhaps words) on her upper left thigh that are unaccounted for.

And considering Grande’s penchant for spur-of-the-moment ink, it’s possible the singer has plenty of other hidden designs — and likely that more are on the way.

FILED UNDER ARIANA GRANDE , CELEBRITY TATTOOS

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