something’s brewing! A need to DESTROY!!

I will never forget you.

Pairing: Legolas x Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: Legolas proposes to you and reassures you that he wants to be with you. Fluff & Angst with a happy ending + bonus ending

Word Count: 1605

Notes:

Reader is human

No gender or pronouns used to refer to the reader. Reader is briefly mentioned to have short hair

MENTIONS OF DEATH (reader's). Don't read if you're not ok with thinking about your own mortality xoxo

Read it on AO3 here

Story:

It has been months since you moved to Mirkwood with the prince following the disbandment of the fellowship and destruction of the one ring. Sometimes your mind would drift to what could’ve happened had the ring fallen into the wrong hands or if any other evil lies dormant, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. You could never sit with these thoughts for long, though. Legolas seemed to have a sixth sense for when you needed to see the good in the world again. Today was one of those days. 

“Come, there is something I wish to show you”, the elf smiled as he stretched his hand out, waiting for you to take it from your place sitting in a wooden chair inside the royal palace. 

“It better not be another elk giving birth in the woods. I’m still traumatized from your idea of ‘the beauty of nature’”, you grimace at the memory still not extending your hand.

“No, no, nothing like that. I promise”, he chuckles softly.

“Fine”.

Legolas had brought you to a clearing in the forest, surrounded by old-growth trees and wildflowers. White queen anne’s lace, forget-me-nots, and flowers whose names you did not know, who only seemed to grow near where elves trot, filled your eyes. This is not the first time he’s found a quiet spot in nature to take you, and it will surely not be the last. While overlooking the rainbow of colors seemingly dancing in the field in front of you, you sneak a glance at the elf from the corner of your eye. He stands confidently with his hands behind his back next to you and smiles. If it were anyone else looking at him, they’d think he was completely at ease. Anyone but you. The look in his eyes said “Do you like it? Do you? Please tell me you like it.”. He always wanted to impress you, whether it be shooting three arrows at once when one would suffice, wearing his nicest clothes (“Legolas why are you wearing your ceremonial attire?” “Don’t worry about it, father”.), or finding the best places to take you. Be still, your beating heart. For a nearly 3,000 year old elf, he acted like a lovesick teenager. 

“It’s absolutely beautiful”, you finally say after a long silence. Legolas releases tension in his shoulders he didn’t even realize he was holding. 

“I knew you would. Let us sit in the grass.”, he guided you so that he was sitting with your back against his chest, his legs on either side. 

You felt your tongue form teasing words about him taking you on a hike to a remote spot just for a cuddle, but they faded away as he wrapped his arms around your sides and began to plant soft, slow kisses on your neck and shoulder. You melted into his warm touch. 

“May I braid your hair?”

“Yes, but there’s not much to braid.”, you reply. You had recently gotten a haircut and felt as though Legolas may be disappointed. He was very enthusiastic about your new look the first time he saw it, but now you fear he may not enjoy it. 

“Nonsense, I shall make many small plaits instead”.

“Alright”, you relaxed into his hands as he began to weave strands of hair behind you. You closed your eyes, as you reveled in the feeling of the sunlight on your face as he worked. All was quiet aside from the occasional bird chirping or squirrel running up a tree. A warm feeling took hold in your chest and you couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips. You were safe. You were happy. You were in love. 

Millenia seemed to pass before Legolas announced he was done. True to his word, he had formed many braids in your hair. He may have gone a little overboard with just how many he made, but he just loved the feeling of being so close to you and never wanted it to end. 

“Thank you”, you whisper as your turn to face him, giving him a peck on the lips. You move your hand to feel the back of your head, itching to feel the braids your lover gifted you. Soft. Your fingers feel something soft. Something thin and soft. 

“Forget-me-not flowers”, Legolas clarified, seeing you trying to decipher with your fingers, “I thought them appropriate”.

“Why is that?” “They are gifted to one whose presence you enjoy, so as not to forget them, as the name implies. I could never forget you and I hope you would not forget me. Each past day with you is a beloved memory and each day to come cannot come soon enough. I treasure each moment with you. I feel myself drowning in my affection for you. No, peacefully swimming. I adore you. I cannot bear to be without you.”, he says softly as he holds both your hands and kisses each one, never breaking eye contact.

“Oh, Legolas”

“Meleth nîn”, he uses his hands to guide you both to your feet. As you look up into his bright blue eyes, he whispers “Please allow me to never be without you. Allow me to walk beside you for all the days we may share together before death takes us. I have lived millennia without you. Now that I know what life is like with you in it, I never want to go back. I want you with me, always.”

“Are you asking me-?”, you begin as he kneels down in front of you and pulls out a ring from his pocket.

“Y/N, will you marry me?”, he gazes at you with hope in his eyes as he lifts the ring towards you. 

“Yes. Yes. Yes!”, he quickly puts the ring on your left ring finger and you pull him into a harsh kiss. You and the elf wear matching smiles as you kiss long and hard. 

“I’m so happy, Legolas…but is this what you really want?”, your smile drops as your nerves hit you. “Of course, my love. Why do you question my intentions?”.

“It’s not your intentions that I question. It’s just that you’re…you”, you vaguely gesture at the elf.

“I’m not following.”

“You’re a prince. I’m poor. You’re an elf that’ll live thousands of years. I’m a human that’ll be lucky if I make it to 70.” “I don’t care about that.”

“Your father won’t approve.” “I care not what my father thinks. His opinion of our union will not sway me.” 

“Then what of my mortality? One day I will die and leave you alone.”

He sighs before he speaks, “I must admit I have thought long and hard on this subject. The thought of your death pains me to no end.” “Exactly. Our marriage would be short-lived in your long lifetime and I will become nothing but a memory to you, one that will fade one day.”

“What are you saying?” “I’m saying you love me now, but one day I will die and you’ll move on and I’ll mean nothing to you. One day you’ll laugh at how you ever loved a silly human”, tears began to well in your eyes, shame overtaking you as you finally let out the fears you’ve been harboring all this time. Your gaze drifts downwards, unable to face your elven lover. Legolas’ eyes widened in realization, shocked at your true feelings. He manages to compose himself and lifts your chin up with his index finger. 

“Meleth nîn, look at me. Y/N, please.”, he whispers his request. 

“It is true that my life will continue when yours ends.”

Hot tears began to run down your cheeks at this. 

“But”, he swipes the tears away with his thumb, “You will always be a part of it. Even when you are gone, I will love you. You have shown me love that I did not think was possible. When you are gone, I will visit your grave with flowers each day. I will braid my hair and miss the touch of yours. I will never remarry. I will walk the paths we have taken together. I will meditate in this very spot, remembering this moment. I will never forget you. In life and in death, we are connected. I love you”.

“And I love you”, you barely choke the words out through your tears. 

“Knowing all this, my silly human,”he teases before turning serious, “Will you marry me?” “Of course, I’ll marry you, you ridiculous elf”.

You both grin as Legolas lifts you up and spins you in his arms. When your feet are planted on the Earth again he kisses you deeply. As you feel your lips on your own, you imagine a thousand more kisses each day with him for the rest of your days. 

Bonus

Many moons have passed since your passing. Legolas meant every word of his promise and has done all that he said. Before he rests each night, he reads the book on his nightstand, your favorite book of poems. He recalls reading it to you on nights your eyes were too tired as he pet your hair while you laid on his chest. When he wakes each morning, he glares at the large empty space beside it, wishing it were you. Although his heart pangs at the loss of you, he finds joy and comfort in revisiting your old haunts, his favorite being the spot where he proposed to you. Today, our elf wanders into the cemetery. “Hello, meleth nîn”, he smiles as he places a bouquet of freshly picked forget-me-nots on your grave.

heiress - 6

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

a/n: i am really excited writing this lately and it’s totally not me avoiding to actually write any uni work. 

previous chapter

    - I think you need to make a choice, dear. - she cocked her head to the side, her own expression muffling the sound of Wanda’s voice cutting through the woods. 

She took a step backwards, unsure. She didn’t remember the time she was allowed such a choice. Her father had forced her into HYDRA’s hands before she could even speak, Bucky had forced her out of the Red Room and Hayward had forced her into SWORD. Looking back, she couldn’t find a single instance where she had been allowed her own agency. She was always dormant, carefully nodding, afraid HYDRA would come and take her back. She had been thrown into a cell during the Civil War’s events by her own agency and kept locked during the Thanos’ situation. The only time she had willingly stepped back was out of fear in Washington. Seeing her father handle the man she loved as if she were a mindless robot had thrown her into the same pit of fear she had always been kept into. It still haunted her to this day, she could still hear the television’s reporter voice as she explained what had happened. Once again, she was taking a step back. - Oh for heaven’s sake.

Agatha rose her hand  in the hand, twirling it as the darkness became sickening light and the woods turned into walls of places of sad occasions whose name and place she preferred not to remember. The ambience was sickly in dark and light green tinges with rusty bars. She did not want to remember it but she did and turning around she was face to face with one of the only happiest memories she had which overtime had became bittersweet. The music was low and muffled, coming from down the hall  were the staff was holding a meeting but it was well heard enough in the soldier’s cell, they could dance. And they did. She could see him and her past self in front off her, her head leaning on top the leather of his bodice, slightly tilted up so she could look him in the eyes, his flesh hand wrapped around hers as they moved side to side. She watched that scene with a sad look, feeling a lump in her throat become bigger and bigger.

   - Ain’t that sweet? - Agatha stood behind her. - So tell me exactly what’s taking you so long to take my help? Isn’t that what you want?

   - Yes. - she mumbled, almost hypnotised by the scene. - But it’s gone, it’s the past.

   - But that’s the thing, my little traumatised girl, it doesn’t need to be. Not for people like you, like us. 

   - No. Past is past and I can’t return to it ... - she moved away from that scene, turning to look at Agatha. - No matter how sad it makes me. 

   - No, dear, that’s not how it works for you.  - she twirled her hand again and the darkness returned but it wasn’t how it was in the woods. No, this was a large dark room barely light as if a flickering spotlight hovered them. She took steps forward, trying to read her situation only to find a pile of lifeless bodies of everyone she had ever known. She took a step back, hand covering her own muffled cry as everyone she had ever knew laid lifelessly around her. - You see, you’re not an element manipulator, that is a gross understatement of what you do and you should have the people who told you that burned at the stake. No, you have the particular talent of controlling matter ... creation magic. Not just in your own particular universe like Wanda but in every universe. It’s permanent, everything you do, doesn’t need a little dome protecting it. It’s powerful magic however when unbalanced, untrained, uncontrolled it becomes destruction magic which is why my dear you can make things disappear. You just make them cease to exist. 

   - The guards ...

   - Ceased to exist. - she interrupted her. - Of course you can bring it back like you did back at the Red Room but it takes time and control. You, of all people, have no control over it and whatever control you have breaks loose whenever Barnes just strolls around. It’s not very feminist of you. 

   - Y/N! - Wanda’s voice got louder.

   - This ... - Agatha pointed out every dead body surrounding her. -  Is what happens with uncontrolled creation magic. Wanda can’t help you, she’s chaos magic, your foil. I can, I can help you. I can take this burden away from you. Something you didn’t even want in the first place.

   - Y/N! - Wanda’s voice mixed with the sounds of her own thoughts until it broke through Agatha’s illusion. She looked at her feet, no longer surrounded by the corpses of those she loved yet Agatha was still standing in front of her, a sly smile on her face as if she knew her future. 

   - That’s what the future holds for you if you don’t learn to control it. You’re destruction so far, pure, unaltered, cruel destruction. Fitting considering your choice of lover.

   - WANDA! - Y/N replied back turning on Agatha as if she had been woken up from a bad dream. Agatha mumbled to herself before disappearing into the darkness of the night as Y/N searched for the Scarlet Witch. It didn’t take long for her to find her, noticing the look of pure worry in her eyes just like the time when her children were in danger. - Wanda, I ...

   - WHAT THE FUCK, Y/N? Don’t you do this to me EVER AGAIN. - she dropped her hands, eyes returning to her regular hue. - If you weren’t my age, I would have grounded you. 

   - I’m younger than you Wanda. - she sighed, small smile on her face. - I just thought I saw ... something.

   - What something? - they walked together through the hex. Watching the dome like safe haven they had created, Y/N didn’t find it in herself to tell her. Maybe Hayward was right, maybe the daughter of a villain only had promises of becoming a villain herself. Yet again, she had seen it. She had seen what being around them could lead to and that image was tattooed on her brain no matter how much she tried to throw it to Agatha trying to manipulate her. - Y/N? 

   - I thought I saw Agatha. - she said, stepping just a behind the border of the hex. 

   - Did you see her? Did she spoke to you?

   - No. - she said, almost robotically like as the Scarlet Witch allowed the hex to open for them to enter. Instead of finding Bucky on the swings, Vision was sat there, awaiting both of them to arrive. 

Before any of them could speak, Y/N took to leaving the couple, walking straight towards the door of her own bedroom and locking it on her way in. She  leaned against her door, letting herself slide until she hit the ground, hands cupping her head as she told herself not to cry. There was no use in crying about it, the only use was to make a decision; however, she would be damned if she allowed anyone to have agency over her again. No, she wasn’t her father’s daughter, she wasn’t HYDRA’s failed experiment, Hayward’s project or the Winter Soldier’s lover. No, she wasn’t just one. She was a tweaked amalgamation of everything people had told her she was and now that identity was shrouded in fear. Fear of what she was capable of, of what she had made to me. Somehow, things felt simpler before she had any answers. 

  - Y/N? 

  - Gosh. - she put her hand over her chest as Vision passed through her wall as if it weren’t concrete. - The door is closed, Vision. It is not an invitation to pass through my wall. 

  - I am terribly sorry about that but Wanda is worried. - he sat next to her. - And since you are the godmother of my children, I do consider you part of my family.

   - Are you here to give me a philosophy lesson, Vision?

   - It is not my place to tell you what to do. You’ve done well enough for yourself over the years. 

   - Your intelligence is much more mathematical than mine.  I actually have a question for you.

   - Please do not ask me again what is the meaning of life. - Y/N laughed at his worried voice, shaking her head no.

   - Do you believe creation and destruction can live together? Balanced?

   - Well, I don’t think one can live without each other. Humans are born and then they die, creation and destruction. Nature is filled with it, it’s almost based on it. I mean, isn’t love creation and destruction? Heartbreak and emotion.

   - Destruction is overwhelming. -  she leaned her head against  the door, looking up at the ceiling. - It’s merely a downfall. 

    - Maybe you should chose a different philosophy question.

    - I don’t think I can. - she mumbled to herself before turning her face to the synthezoid. -  You should probably return to Wanda. She hates sleeping alone. 

He gave her a sympathetic look only to leave her standing in the middle of her room surrounded by her own insecurities which always clawed at her during the evenings. Raising her hand and seeing the familiar white glow everything felt much more scary to her. She had been better off thinking she could control the elements rather than matter itself. Yet part of her scoffed at HYDRA for not being able to figure it out soon enough. Still, it was not natural, not for her. She was a hand to hand combat trained fighter, barely using that which lied straight at her surface. Agatha was right, she couldn’t control it. She knew she couldn’t and whatever power she had around it was fickle. Too fickle. 

It was best to forget and move ahead. Have a cup of tea, it will make you feel better, Monica would tell her whenever someone particularly got on her nerves while at SWORD and right now it sounded like the best idea. However, opening her tea box, there was nothing but dust. She sighed, removing her boots and grabbing her nightgown before unlocking the door and walking towards the kitchen. Finding the kitchen, she also found the same person who seemed to hover over her thoughts, putting the kettle on top the hob.

   - It’s an electrical kettle. - she said, sly smirk as she turned on the hob before Bucky could destroy Wanda’s precious kettle. - It doesn’t go on the hob.

    - Oh ... - he felt stupid not knowing that yet he felt even more speechless in front of her as she put the kettle on the base and turned it on. - Less fire prone?

    - Oh no, Billy has set it almost on fire several times. - silence installed between the two as they tried to find something to say which sounded organic and not just forced.

    - Night cravings? 

    - I guess you could call it that. You?

    - Can’t sleep. 

    - Sam annoying you? We could always put you two on different rooms. 

    - Just nightmares, really. - he stood by her side, watching the water boil on the glass kettle. - Did I use to have them ... back then?

    - It depended. - she sighed. - Most of the times, yes. I’ve been having them too lately so I have resorted to not sleeping. 

   - That’s not very functional, is it doll?

   - I wouldn’t really use functional as a way to describe myself. - she looked at him, mostly wanting to lighten the mood yet it only seemed to harden his expression. - No one in my direct family is very functional either. 

    - You are not your father. You know that, right? - his hand lingered over her wrist as her torso moved to stand in front against his. His hand found her, fingers intertwining as if it was second nature to him. - I figured you would’ve found that out over all this time.

    - Do you think I could become like him? - she looked at her own feet. - Evil is not born, evil is made. Do you think I could become like him ... a villain?

    - No. - he shook his head as if her words were mere ramblings of a crazy person. - I’d bet my own life on it. 

    - There’s a way ... there’s someone who keeps offering me the opportunity to be normal. Not have whatever it is I have, just ordinary civilian life in a regular town surrounded by regular people. 

   - Y/N, the last thing you will ever be is ordinary. Nothing about you or me for that matter is ordinary. You can’t pursue an ordinary life ... you can pursue something that makes you happy. 

   - What if what makes me happy is being ordinary?

   - I spent most the last year wanting to ordinary, Y/N. I was not happy, I was just going through the motions and now ... well I found peace in the unpredictable, no matter how much I cannot control it.

    - Are you happy now? - she looked into his eyes, an honest and truly scary question. One that she could barely answer if it were her. 

     - You always made me happy. - her hands left the marbled kitchen stone so she could wrap her arms around him, head leaned against the soft fabric of his jumper. He sighed, kissing the top of her head, as his hand caressed her back, the other one keeping her flushed to him. Y/N slowly raised her head to look at him, watching his eyes reflect the moon light like they always did. Some things  never change. Bucky hand climbed from her back to cup her face, allowing her skin to sink into his roughed hand which probably had more cuts than it should. She looked at him like no one else did and she had seen it all. Heck, she’d seen things Bucky wished she would’ve never seen but she still looked at him like any other woman looked at their cared ones. 

    - It hurts every single day. - she mumbled, almost ashamed to admit to the man who had been through the most that it was starting to become hard to get up every time she fell down. - Everyone says they can help me but I feel like I’m being constantly knocked down and I’m just so tired. I’m so tired of always getting up, it hurts so much and for once I just want to lay down. 

    - It’s okay. - his finger caressed her cheek, metal arm still rubbing up and down her back. Bucky never liked to touch his face with his metal hand, he refused. - You don’t have to get up every single time and if you can’t there’s so many people here who’d give you a helping hand. You’re not alone, Y/N.

    - Yes, I am. - she bite the inside of her lip. - I’ve seen it and it’s only a matter of time before I hurt everyone. 

    - You’re not gonna hurt anyone, Y/N. 

    - It’s not my choice. - she took a step forward away from him. - It was decided for me.

    - Whatever you do ... - Bucky scratched his neck, trying to compose himself, his own words running through his mind as he wondered if he had done something wrong. - I’ll stand by your side. 

    - I ... I should probably get going. 

    - Me too, Sam might woke up and think I tried to escape ... again.

    - See you tomorrow, Bucky. - she spoke as he took initiative to leave first, wondering if he had done something to make her upset, said something wrong. 

Y/N waited for him to be far off before she took further and further into the building. It was always dark there and not a lot of people were allowed in that particular area of their own base. Wanda herself had stuffed some particular nasty things in that area as well as some of SHIELDs and SWORDs experimentation notes. Only some people could get in and she was one of those people. Despite this she twirled her hand, opening the door without using a card. The darkness only seemed to intensify, as she got closer and closer to it, the room only barely light by the almost scary aura. The room where Wanda Maximoff had stored the Darkhold.

taglist: @lookiamtrying @austynparksandpizza​

It's here! The Hellboy fic!

So I looked up Bethmoran Elvish, and it turns out that the team that made Hellboy 2 based their language on Gaeilge, more commonly known as Irish. So I used Gaeilge myself for the Bethmoran spoken in this fic, however we all know how Google translate can be. So for any native speakers out there, let me know if I got something wrong!

*leannán - lover, Bethmoran Elvish

**mo stór - my darling, Bethmoran Elvish

***mo ghrá maith, ná fág mé arís - my good love, never leave me again, Bethmoran Elvish

****Claíomh - lit. sword, the name given to Nuada's bladed weapon, Bethmoran Elvish

The smell in the place is atrocious. The whole building reeks of death; no one is missing from the other units, and this empty, destroyed apartment seems to be the epicenter of the stench. Hellboy wrinkles his nose in disgust, and glances across the room to where Liz is picking through the trash with Abe. "Hey, sweetheart, remind me why we agreed to come back to the BPRD?"

"We need money," she sighs, "and the kids need an education." She tosses a piece of torn metal onto the steadily growing pile of fake clues. The pile of real clues is still non-existent, so far, and Hellboy can tell it's frustrating the three of them as much as the agents milling around in the other rooms. "This place is a dump," Liz continues, tossing a chunk of drywall onto the pile. "You're sure this is where whoever was trying to resurrect the elf twins was staying?"

"Oh, most definitely," Abe assures. "Their magical signature is quite incredible." The fishman tosses a ball of string onto the side of the fake clue pile, and Hellboy watches it tumble lazily down to the floor. "Almost as demonic as yours, Red." He shudders and rejects another chunk of drywall almost as soon as he picks it up. "I don't enjoy the thought of just what they are. I especially dislike the thought of them being anywhere near Princess Nuala."

"Don't worry, Blue, we'll protect your girlfriend," Hellboy assures, gazing through a few holes in the ceiling toward the cloudy night sky. "Found anything?"

"Not yet," Abe starts to say, as his webbed fingers land on a discarded bottle. "Oh!"

Manning stomps into the room then, frowning. "Well," he demands, "can we hurry this up? Please?"

Abe motions them closer. "You will all want to see this."

Liz and Hellboy lay their hands atop Abe's, and Manning cautiously places his hand on Abe's shoulder. "Go on, Blue," Liz tells the fishman. "Show us." The room seems to rewind in a blur of color and motion before fading into darkness. When the light comes back they see--

Sitting on the floor, leaning over and scribbling frantic calculations upon large pieces of parchment, is John Thaddeus Myers. The room is much cleaner now, not destroyed, but still empty save for John himself. The parchment is covered in scrawling Latin phrases, runes, diagrams, and occult symbols, and John swigs from a half-drunk bottle of Mexican Coke -- the bottle Abe now holds.

He is muttering to himself. "Almost there, leannán,* I'm so close, soon," he whispers, the Bethmoran language seeming to come like second nature to him. Myers sounds crazed with his fervor. His pen flies across the parchment. "Yes!"

John sits back, triumphant, and the watching agents know enough about the occult to recognize an incredible revival spell -- complex, unique to the situation. The agents shiver.

"Well, not half-bad," John tells himself. "'Specially for a rush job." He reaches into the front of his coat and gently extracts an old sepia photograph. It's bent slightly in the upper right corner, and as John carefully, lovingly, straightens it out, the agents can see the subject.

Prince Nuada glares out of the photo, hand raised as if to block his face. "Need to get a better shot of you," John says to the photo. "You look so grumpy in this one." He chuckles. "But you'd be secretly proud of me, I think. It took me a whole week of calculations, but I got it done. Oh, you'll be so disapproving over this. 'Sleep, John,'" he grumbles, clearly attempting to imitate the prince. "'Eat, John. You need to take better care of yourself, John." John sighs. "It's your fault," he tells the picture sullenly, "worrying me when you suddenly go quiet. I get home and find out you tried to kill all humans and got yourself knocked off instead."

He tucks the photograph away and gathers all his work into an orderly roll and stands. He glances around the room and clutches the roll to his chest. "Now, lovelies, think you could trash the place for Daddy?"

John darts from the room as a veritable swarm of tooth fairies erupt from the vent in the wall.

Abe looks horrified and intrigued in equal parts when he sets the bottle back down. "Either Agent Myers has never been human, and was just hiding it well," he breathes, "or something alarming has taken his place. We must find him. Now."

"We needed to find him three weeks ago!" Manning glowers and heads out of the room, motioning his scurrying underlings out of the way. "He never reported in when he returned to the states. We wrote him off as just taking a break to recover from Antarctica."

"You think Voodoo could be involved?" Hellboy looks between Abe and his wife. "Kid sounds cookoo. I mean, he can't honestly think that elvish prick likes him."

"It could be a possibility," Abe allows, "but Voodoo would leave its own magical signature. Either this is a side of Agent Myers we did not know existed, or John has been possessed by a powerful demon."

"Let's go," Liz says, worry in her voice, and Hellboy frowns at the spike of jealousy he knows by now is irrational. "Whatever's going on, he obviously needs help."

"I'll admit," Hellboy sighs, "this doesn't look good from any angle. I just hope whatever's happened, boy scout isn't in any pain. I'd feel a bit bad about that."

Abe, on his way out of the apartment behind everyone, notices a red line half-buried under some dust and rubble. He clears the drywall and blows away the dirt to discover a cracked handmirror -- the glass has a pentagram carefully drawn on it, surrounded by runes. It was clearly old, as the cracks marring the glass also cracked the paint of the pentagram. The runes are ones Abe recognizes, a spell meant to disguise true form.

He picks it up and gets an impression of Myers smashing the mirror himself, his face contorted in fury, his surroundings hazy, tears streaking down his face. What events led to John destroying this mirror did not matter as much as the act of destruction itself, and the reminder that it was his choice, not the person who had made the spell. Ending the spell on the mirror had been freeing, and it was a defiance John had felt necessary with his whole being. John hates being lied to, and Abe can feel the betrayal John had felt.

"Blue?"

Abe blinks up at Hellboy and offers up the cracked mirror in explanation. The fishman tucks the mirror away and looks around one last time. "It's strange," he comments, realizing something that should have been niggling at him the whole time. "This particular apartment unit has no windows, and none of the other tenants' units had tooth fairies inside. Where did they all go?"

Hellboy shrugs. "Maybe they followed Myers?"

Abe swallows. "For all our sakes, let's hope they went to the nearest entrance to the Troll Market."

Northern Ireland proves just as grey and windy as the last time Hellboy's team had been there nearly a year ago, but they're surprised and relieved when they find Nuala waiting outside the cave housing the dormant Golden Army. Abe embraces her tenderly, and she smiles softly and touches his arm, a silent communication passing between the two before she turns yellow eyes on the other agents.

"I know not who he is to my brother," she tells them hurriedly and motions them into the cave. "But my brother has not attacked him."

The gears on the floor are still, and the trio of agents are shocked to see Nuada cradling the Crown in his hands. Myers appears to be pleading with the prince. The former agent has his hands outstretched, and Nuada's elegant fingers quake, just for a moment, and he shakes his head.

"I'm not upset," Myers murmurs, voice soothing.

"You should be," Nuada whispers, hoarse. "You have every right."

"Nuada," John whispers back, fonder than any of the agents have ever heard from him, and when John reaches the last few inches and lifts the Crown out of Nuada's hands, the elf does not stop him. Tears are rolling slowly down Nuada's cheeks. John tosses the Crown away, hard, and the elf winces as the artifact shatters, tiny pieces skittering away amongst the gears. John lurches forward to embrace Nuada, and the elf trembles in John's arms, his own stiff at his side.

"If anyone can see how terribly cruel humans can be," John breathes in the prince's ear, "it is me, but this isn't the way. I swear, I'm a good seventy-five percent of your impulse control."

"Eighty," Nuada counters softly, and John laughs quietly. "I apologise all the same; I worried you."

"I am a bit upset about that," John groans. "You're half-feral, truly. But I put up with it, don't I? Just like you put up with all my little idiosyncrasies."

"Such as leaving your partially-devoured meals on the couch?" Nuada leans his head into John's and hums contentedly. "I did not believe I would ever miss that, mo stór,** but I did miss you, quirks and all."

John purrs at the admission. "Mo ghrá maith, ná fág mé arís."***

Nuada lifts a shaking hand to cup the back of John's head, and John preens and curls closer to the elf. Nuada swallows and loops his other arm around John's waist. "Can we go home, mo stór?"

"Of course, leannán," John says and moves back, but not far enough to completely seperate. "But first, may I borrow Claíomh?"****

Nuada snaps his head toward his sister and the agents, as if just noticing he and John are no longer alone. His arm tenses around John's waist, tugging him near-imperceptibly closer, but he releases the former agent to draw the weapon.

To the agents' shock, Nuada passes the blade to John. Nuala frowns, settling a hand on Abe's arm once more.

John turns fully to face them, Claíomh held up in warning. It's not very effective; Myers is, at his core, a good man with a pure heart. Hellboy can see in his eyes that he doesn't really want to fight old friends, not to mention that the elf John moves to protect is much more intimidating than the human.

"Agent Myers," Abe calls over the gears. "Please, just come quietly." John's face twists, his gaze hardening, and in a flash of hellfire, John's form rips free of its humanity.

Huge demon horns arch up and away from John's head, grey at the base and shifting to red about halfway up. His skin has turned the same slate-grey, his eyes blink open to reveal purple slit irises and deep red sclerals and bright blue pupils. His nails have lengthened and sharpened, and his fingers turn red at the last knuckle, like his horns. A long tail, also turning red halfway down, whips back and forth behind him, though John's tail is nearly twice as long as Hellboy's. His clothes, too, have changed, and the demon John has become wears nothing more than an overlong breechcloth and golden body jewelry.

This is too much skin for Hellboy's comfort and he reals back and chokes. "An incubus, boy scout? I wouldn't think you had it in you."

John, for his part, looks terribly flustered, ducking his head and flushing lilac. Behind him, Nuada slips out of his armored overcoat and drapes it around John's shoulders.

"I forgot my clothes always change, too," John whines, turning to hide his face against Nuada's chest. The elf mumbles understandingly and reaches around to pat John's back.

"You are still new to this," Nuada reasons, "and you are getting much better. Remember when you would completely lose your clothes and be naked as a babe?"

John pulls back to smack the elf's side. "You said you wouldn't bring that back up!"

"I lied," Nuada chuckles, and the agents are shocked to realize he's teasing Myers. Liz sputters and steps forward.

"John--" she starts to scold, but Myers cuts her off.

"Liz, please, don't say something I'm going to hate you for."

His tone has turned harsh, and his expression's stony when he turns back to them. "Please. You won't have anymore trouble from Nuada again, you won't hear anything from either of us. Just leave, and don't look back."

Nuada coughs lightly. "I might be wont to cause some trouble for them."

"Try again," John sighs.

"I will not cause anymore trouble," Nuada mumbles, pouting, and it's such a strange look on her brother's face that Nuala laughs.

"If you keep him out of harm's way," she calls, motioning the agents away from her brother and John. "Then we will leave you two to go. I do not wish anymore strife between my brother and I. But know this, John Myers: if you hurt my brother, I will not stop the BPRD again."

John's eyes narrow, mistrust evident in his expression, and his tail twitches as Abe moves forward and holds out the cracked handmirror.

John freezes at the sight, and he slowly moves across the gears to stand in front of Abe. Delicate fingers gently take the mirror from the fishman, and Myers lifts it to gaze at himself in the cracked glass. "You found it?"

"I thought you would want it back." Abe looks John over and swallows. "Your human parent didn't tell you until much later in life, correct? They used this to keep you from changing form and discovering the truth." Abe sounds hurt, his eyes sympathetic. "John, I can't imagine -- I'm so sorry, that someone you should have been able to trust could cause you so much torment."

John's eyes water, and he presses the mirror over his heart. "Thank you, Abe."

Nuada is suddenly behind John, and Abe is proud that he manages to keep from jumping like Hellboy and Liz do. Nuada draws Myers back into his own chest, presses a tender kiss to the demon's temple, never taking his eyes off Abe.

"Abraham," he greets tersely. "You will look after my sister. Or I will not hesitate to kill you."

John pinches Nuada's arm where it's looped around him, and Nuada growls softly. "I will not, John, do not dissuade me."

Nuala bows and leads the three BPRD agents out. "I am glad that ended bloodlessly."

"I don't like this," Hellboy growls. "We need to drag them both back--"

"Hellboy, please," Abe holds up a hand to settle the man. "In his human disguise, John's magical signature was dulled. When he revealed himself, I felt John's true power. If John had wanted to, he could have thrown all of us into Hell itself without batting an eye. Despite hiding them from the outside world, John has truly mastered his demonic abilities. He is a dangerous being to cross. We would do best to let him be if he is willing to behave."

Liz frowns and shrugs. "I guess we don't really have much of a choice, then. But hey, at least now there's proof that Myers was never trying to steal me, Red."

"What?" Hellboy frowns himself. "What do you mean?"

"He's gay," Liz snickered. "So if he'd been trying to split us up, it would be to get with you." She smirks and turns to head back to the trucks.

"Don't even joke like that," Hellboy grunts and follows her.

Abe and Nuala giggle between the two of them, and Abe can't be angry at Myers's strange loyalty to the prince if it means Abe can have Nuala back in his life. He has missed her, and he touches her arm so she can feel how deeply he cares for her. The princess beams at him and takes his hand.

"Shall we," she asks, motioning after their friends.

Abe looks over his shoulder as they walk away, and sees John and Nuada peering out of the cave at their retreating backs, John's human form carefully in place. A single tooth fairy sits on John's shoulder.

The Heartbreaking Ones, Week 1

“Look, you hate me. I know that. But I need you to trust me. I’d never let anything happen to you, because I… I love you.”

Pairing: Natasha/Reader

Word Count: 1300 approx.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, death, deception, etc. ANGST.

A/N: This takes place before SHIELD’s recruitment of Natasha. She is not Hydra, but she is not one of the good guys™ in this scenario. I love her anyways.

I kinda love the story between the two here, I may write something else about it, idk.

WEEK ONE MASTERLIST

There’s a knock on your door at what you assume to be the crack of dawn, judging by the specks of light coming into the small apartment. The sounds startles you from your sleep, but it is forced routine and years in the battlefield born instinct that push your body up, your hand reaching for the handgun in your nightstand while the free one dangles the backpack of possessions over your shoulder.

Pressing the device near your neck and feeling the vibrations on your vocal cords ready to change your voice begin, you speak up,

“Who is it?”

“No worries, ma’am. Just visiting.” The familiar voice answers back, years-old code phrase reaching your ears and making your heart beat painfully in your chest, as if trying to reach her through your sternum and reunite with her own heart. As if trying to love her still, through the pain, the lies, and the finale.

You open the door, but still hold your gun up, and aim it at her head. Your teeth are clenched tight and your hand shakes as you stand face to face with the Black Widow for the first time in over a year.

Natasha looks almost the same, the same red hair the color of dying embers that reminds you of warmth and the quiet crackling of a fire, but at the same time sings of chaos and destruction and the untamable force of nature that its wearer is. She is still the petite and strong woman that watched you walk away, her green eyes are still the same that built a web of lies around you and pretended to cry when you finally broke free of it.

There’s an uncertainty in her stance, though, a hesitation. As if the Widow is thrown back by the reality of your presence before her just like you are of hers, as if there’s still a part of her aching for you the same time your heart does for her.

But that is foolish. A child’s fantasy. Nothing more.

“What do you want?” You ask as you let her in, closing the door behind you and still clutching the handgun tightly, although letting it fall to your side.

“I know you weren’t behind the assassination.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence. That doesn’t explain why you are here.” You snarl back, still watching cautiously at Natasha’s form, he back turned to you and straight hair covering her shoulders.

“My employers…aren’t so sure of your innocence.” She states simply, raspy voice unwavering as she sets your death sentence.

“No…”

A deep breath, and then, “I will fail the mission, but you will have to go to the States. Give yourself up to Carter’s team,” The woman turns to you, her chin proudly, stoically raised as she faces you. Her façade quickly crumbles when she sees the tears shining in your eyes. “You thought I was going to kill you.”

Despite the tears that trace twin paths down your cheeks, you walk past the Widow to the window of your apartment, your shoulder roughly bumping on hers as you do so.

“Can you blame me?”

“Iyubov mo-…”

You interrupt her with a yell, not caring for that split second about the price in your head, about the all-seeing eyes of your supposed enemies, “Don’t you dare! You lied to me, played me, for years! Don’t you dare pretend it wasn’t all a lie, pretend I should still believe you love anything, Black Widow.”

The words leave your lips like venom dripping from a dying snake’s jaws, trying to leave one last wound on the world that killed you, on the world that took a civilian girl and turned her into something else, on the world, the woman, that made her believe she could be loved only to burn everything before her eyes.

Still, a gullible, innocent part of you cannot help but notice the way Natasha flinches at the title, at the badge of pride she so flawlessly lives up to. The redhead shows a second of weakness, a second of pain and regret and heartbreak as deep as your own, before the Widow takes over, before the façade is back on place.

You laugh bitterly, turning your eyes back to the European dormant skyline and trying to breathe past the knot in your throat.

“I…” She stops herself before speaking, measuring her words, “It wasn’t a lie. Not to me.”

The sob wrenched from your chest echoes through the room, and a few more tears find a trace down your cheeks when you speak again,

“But it was a mission.”

A few seconds of silence, and then, “Yes.”

“Then it was a lie, Natalia.” You answer simply, a resigned kind of anguish settling over you, dragging you down.

“You have to leave. They are going to be at my tail soon.” Natasha insists, walking closer to you before stopping herself, hands clenched at her sides.

You ignore her, and ask, “Why did they give you the mission, Nat? One last twist of the knife before finally killing me, or…what?”

“They didn’t. I asked for it,” She explains, finally crossing the distance between you, standing in front of you right by the window, the light morning light caressing her tightened features, her dry lips and tired eyes. “Look, you hate me. I know that. But I need you to trust me. I’d never let anything happen to you, because I… I love you.”

You shake your head at her words, at the way you ae so easily swayed back into believing her, at the way your heart soars at her confession and breaks at the pain in her voice at the same time, in the same beat.

“If I go to the States, will you follow me, Natalia?” You ask carefully, trying in vain to hide the stupid hope in your tone. The redhead closes her eyes, shaking her head silently. “They will not accept failure, your employers.”

The bite in your use of the word is not lost to either of you, and the stubborn protective way you refer to the master assassin’s future brings a smile to tease at her lips. She takes your hand carefully, fingers sliding between yours and brings you closer.

“I will handle them.” She assures, forehead resting on your and green eyes still closed. The gun falls from your hand, the dull thud of the metal hitting the carpeted ground almost managing to startle you.

It is with a small smile teasing at your own lips that you whisper, “This may be the last time I’m trusting you, Natalia.”

“I’m going to make good of it, I promise.” She teases back, and before long the brief contact is lost, you are both taking a step back and the distance is more than a few feet when you arrange the backpack once again over your shoulder.

“I’ll make sure to put in a good word of you in Shield.”

“Not too much, I have a reputation to maintain.” She smiles, a little sad, a little broken, but smiles nonetheless. You nod, opening the window and assessing the streets before readying yourself to take the emergency staircase out of the building and off the city to probably never return.

“Of course, Black Widow.” The painful sting of your tone is lost this time when you whisper her title back at her.

Natasha strides the few feet separating you in a rush, hands reaching to hold your face between her hands as she presses her lips fervently to yours. It is a brief, desperate kiss. As hurting as it is healing.

Her next words are rasped out of her lips, almost forced past the fear, the threats, the very real possibility of failure; they are a promise, a blessing, a wish,

“I will find you, once this is over.”

___

I had to make the ending a little hopeful, I couldn’t contain myself.

Hey, thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!

If you enjoyed my work, please leave a comment, reblog, ask, or something. Please, this is my first time writing Nat as a romantic partner to the reader and I’m really nervous. Also, I thrive in feedback, I need it. Thank you, and I love ya!

Spiritual Detox

When your Life looks totally fucked up, investigate to see what you are worshipping (paying attention to). Are you paying attention to the story or the feelings, the moment? What feeling do you not want to feel? This will help you journey to the root of suffering. Suffering comes when our mind is playing God. Suffering comes when we rely on the conditioning and the conditioning will always find something wrong. This truth telling is a form of disillusionment and disillusionment can be painful as we are burning through lies, but if we welcome this pain, we are taking the medicine. Suffering happens by honoring the idea that you know what should be happening and you know that what IS shouldn’t be. This all comes from our conditioning. Our conditioning has a set of criteria for what should and should not be. And when you are awakening it can be like a spiritual detox is happening. If you have ever done a detox for your body then you know that a “healing crisis” can occur. This is when all the toxins that have been dormant in your body come to the surface while the cleanse is taking place. If you were not aware of this natural process, you might think, ‘oh, shit, this can’t be right.’ But if you trust, then the natural unfolding can occur more smoothly. This is the same for awakening. It can be like a “spiritual detox” for many. You feel like you have “advanced” so much on the spiritual path and now you may feel like all of this “ugliness and toxins” are coming up. This is normal. Everything you have run from arises for healing. Just stay out of the judgments and be willing to start anew in each moment. The healing is your attention and love. You are the light for any dark corners to be shed on. This happens through feeling all the feelings that arise: guilt, fear, terror, shame, anger, rage, frustration, boredom, restlessness, sadness, along with the joy, love, and peace. Whatever is Here, IS your key Home. Feeling it all without the stories or labels attached is the most helpful. When this detox happens the mind cannot control it. It can’t fit this experience into a box because this is all unknown. Our conditioning says this is wrong and you need to repress or numb all of this. But running from this is the suffering. You are ready for healing. This is an experience that most ‘awakened ones’ seem to have been through at some point. The degree of intensity and the duration differs being to being. This has been called “the dark night of the soul” or “the wilderness period” or “the winter period” or “the desert period” or “the 40 days 40 nights” metaphor, or the temptation of Christ, or Buddha tempted by Mara. These are all just names for a period of feeling like you are in a “no man’s land.” Feeling like you are in limbo. The destruction of all of the old has occurred while the seeds are being planted for the new and the new has not arrived yet. You are totally alone. You feel abandoned by your ideas of what God is like and what God allows because God is no longer separate from you. God is no longer an idea. God is a presence. This is what Life is encouraging you to discover right now. You can no longer look out for God; you must look within for God. You feel disoriented when you remain in the mind. The mind is being outgrown. You are too vast to live in the confines of the mind and its conditioning. Sometimes Life destroys everything that can be destroyed so you can discover what is still Here. What can never die! You are the strength of the phoenix rising from the ashes of all the old concepts reborn as your authentic Self. You are the courage of the caterpillar willing to go into the dark, unknown cocoon and become the butterfly you truly ARE. If you feel like a storm is present…stop, go within, be still. If some or all of this is your experience keep coming back to this moment and letting go of the story. If this is not your experience, then don’t worry. We don’t know what is needed for each being waking up. Your experience of awakening could be relatively smooth. I’m only sharing the lens through my own experience. All that matters, though, is your experience right now. If prayer resonates with you, the prayer I said within my heart during challenging times was: Merge me with you Lord so there is no longer You AND I, but… only THIS. When this is sincerely said with all of your heart and being, there is no way this prayer cannot be answered. We don’t know when and we don’t know how, but everything in your Life after this prayer is declared is the answer. You only have to let go of your idea of what the wrapping paper on the Gift should look like. (Source: The Invitation (to Live) (the Truth) by Tathina / http://www.amazon.com/Invitation-Live-Truth-Tathina/dp/1507888112/) Read the full article

DARK MEDITATIONS ON MAY 35TH

(4th June)

David Westfield presents The Disconnection. A monthly seminar:-)

World news and basic facts, tapped from the universal mind, but first a message from the Akashic Record....Down to the burning wire once again, veering from one extreme to the other does not count as balance. The captain of your relationship with Non Self. Voices in choral sequence pulling you out of body. Unable to process information while focusing on it. Distance is depth. Does this path have a heart? Distract the mind elsewhere, throw a question backwards and think of something other. The answer appears, looking for a sign...it says No Road Ahead. Dead End... and another pathway opens as soon as you accept this.  Dream until you awaken, dream until it is real, the circle opens out...  

At that point you realise that that which you are truly summoning is another aspect of your own energy. You truly leave spirit prints in other realms. Thought, projected with an aim or not, is stored and takes on it's own life. Formless contact and contacted form, acknowledge all your sides. Trust me, I'm an idiot. Having fun spotting the fnords...Did you make it through those two paragraphs?  

Due to finances seemingly out of my control (useless magician) I have put an almost temporary halt to the new double cd. And many other things. We shall see whether abstinence makes for a better clarity of visualisations... although the deep set hunger for a nightly obliteration might well interrupt that. My claws and teeth have returned. Want to do everything I know I shouldn't. All of it, love making a collage out my pleasures. The Ego demands temporary satisfactions to deny the Soul. Luxury...  

Let's try drinking water, breathing deep and slow and allow the sunset rays to enter instead. Or not. It might be too late.

304 songs recorded in Prague and I would exchange all of them, the time and energy of their joy for a child of my own, in a heartbeat. In an amphetamine second. Laugh like a giggling child or a Buddhist monk. (stong pa nyid du gyur.... Everything becomes Emptiness).

Got the date of the Million Marijuana March wrong last month, just goes to show how the eagle talons of my memory have been blunted by various means. The past always catches up because there is only Now. Etc. Hmm, on to the Net for a spell...

Dark Meditations on social media, throw them into the satire...throw them to the Wolf.

Foul traitors to the human spirit. Who took the jam out of your doughnut? There you stood on the edge of your feather, expecting to butterfly but regressed to caterpillar. But why get hung up on negativity? Unless you enjoy auto erotic asphyxiation. Normality follows...in a Bitch's Brew. Hunger.

'Why be bleak when you can be Blake?' Jonhn Balance.  

'The self reflecting image of a narcotised mind'. Gira.

Variations on the politics of dominance... 'Antennae tuned to inhuman vibrations'.  Duck Fart calling Cheese Boy out....you guys kill me, how small do your penises have to be for this braggadocio? How about a naked sumo fight to the death in a large tub of butter instead? Just a charming vision.... Glad Le Pen lost, happy that France after all the attacks still has not swung too far Right, shame for all of Putin's cash seeded into her campaign...you're not going to get that investment back baldy. But all your other shit stirring is going so well, you must be proud. Meanwhile here in the Czech Republic, the three main leaders become increasingly foul and ridiculous, a president whose every utterance is despicable and a businessman politician telling the Big Lies as he rises and rises into the rotten stink of filth.  

If you don't stir the cream, it turns into scum.

I first came to Prague several years after the Velvet Revolution and of course I am still an alien outsider, but it is clear after 22 years just how well the leaders have studied and learned from the West. Pulled between populism, and Putin, they choose enrichments and power above actually serving. Say it again for the 93rd time; Only a revolution of the Spirit will win. Silent and beautiful, private and secret, one soul at a time. Remember the Laws of Phase Transition. Or as they say here; 'Truth and love will overcome'. Hold on to let go...

Still irritates me that way too many of the young in rebellion against the usual 'adult' right wing thinking, go for Socialism and left wing rubbish. All those in organisations on demonstrations, funded by those who have NO interest in 'power to the people', but do care about power FROM the people. Bastards swindling suckers. Even the majority of those who disbelieve in mainstream religion end up in various sects/cults who exist solely/SOULy to vampire money and energy from the desperate vacuum created by a lack of personal self discovery and internal private faith.

Speaking of which....

The Campaign for the hearts and minds of the European folk dream...in Britain...

I remain (arf) patriotic of the energy, the magic in England but it has been buried, smothered, dormant. Again, as an outsider, it is more apparent each time I return to the island, the changes are more visible. As unbalanced as I am, it causes an ocean of sadness, then a blind rage of hatred. Then, peace...just biorhythms, moon waves and electromagnetic impulses on chemicals eh? Or something. All will evolve... But...

humans eh? What can you do? We are all in the ark together, for a while.

Street corners all over Prague with servants of The Watchtower...mobile billboards with pictures and stories of 'The Riders of the Apocalypse'. (Isn't it against the law the to disturb the peace?) Sorry smiling ones, but I just won't swallow the coming of the Lord. I love the bible, you couldn't make it up, couldn't make it more ridiculous but they are having dammed good attempt. Standing around trying to scare people - as if we don't have enough shit to worry about. Trying to convince that the end is coming (and looking forward to it because they will be SAVED) and that it will be horrible. Possibly, most of us know this already, which is why we spend so much time on various destructive hobbies to make us feel immortal.  

On better days I would stop and 'engage' Jehovah's Voyeurs in debate, the Mormons, the Scientologists et al... free entertainment...wonderful conversations. I have been in mental asylums where the reasoning makes far more sense. Once again, 'Only the madman is absolutely sure'. I have doubts about Everything (except music) so that means I am sane and pure eh? And you, spending your valuable time speed reading this, how about you? Feeling good?

Tattooed above the gates of Hell:

'Abandon all Hope, all ye who Enter Her'

Last words from Aleister Crowley; 'I am perplexed'. Wonder if he was surprised by all the unconditional Love which appeared just before the 'end'? Getting old is not for carrots, or was that cowards? Memories get distorted when this ancient in Paradise. Arf. So many charming negative possibilities, you need the detachment and wisdom of a sage to overcome and accept 'It is what it is'. And in doing so, 'it' changes'. 'Perception, use it or lose it. As Mr R. Bach's Messiah's Handbook said. It also said; 'Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they're yours'.  

Hmmm...Wonder where all those who emptied their bank accounts, sold their houses and sat on a mountain waiting for The End in December 1999 are these days? Wishing it had been or much wiser now? Would loved there to have been a live camera on them as the clock clicked to a minute past midnight on the first day of '2000', close ups of each face, zooming into their eyes.

'There's some people on Earth, they live in separate minds'.....'The past and future were simultaneous'. Gira.

'It is difficult, if not impossible to insult a beautiful woman. She remains beautiful and the insult recoils.' It is also impossible to insult a self acknowledged loser. They know and the words mean nothing. The insult only shows that the one who considers themselves above such lowly matters will inevitably be in the same sinking boat sooner

or later. This gives a dark satisfaction.

This year, 'M', a virtual assistant similar to Siri on Apple and Alexa on Amazon has been launched on Facebook in the US. Cannot be disabled, only muted or ignored...it can listen to every conversation on the site and make suggestions about payments, travel etc. Zuckerberg looking more stressed by the month because he is working for the bad guys... possibly why he seeks to do so much for charity in order to appease his conscience. Or not. But the chances of Facebook resisting the CIA's mass surveillance scheme is beyond unlikely. Oh yes, and Facebook's own figures show that there are more 18 year old males using it than are actually alive on this planet. Great research guys, well done. Gullible.  

Wonder if Snowden (follow him on Twitter boys and girls) has been questioned in Russia about his work. Guess. He did the right thing for sure, the problem with democracies pretending to be the good guys is that when they cross over in the name of security on an hourly basis, they really cross over. At some point they only become the devil you think you know. However, given the choice between being ruled by China, Russia or the poison caliphate of daesh, I will still take Europe or even America. I'd much rather have Buddha on the astral, beaming humour and wisdom, or the All Seeing Eye but them is the breaks we get. Every state is a bastard. Some are actually worse than others...

The United Altered States of Earth. That would work. Eh?

Which brings me to May 35th, (as those who used to write about it on social media in China called it, to avoid being arrested) also known as June 4th, the date of the Tienanmen massacres, another disgraceful stain on the group soul of humanity, perpetuated in the name of control. May the memories never be erased from the collective mind. The beginning of the chaos in Syria reminded me of Peking... students and shopkeepers asking for a little more correct behaviour and freedom from their loving leaders, mown down by tanks. Not terrorists, not aggressive agitators, but normal, regular people. SHAME.  

Good to see the former chief of the FBI (sacked by Duck Fart for speaking truth to power) confirming the Russian influence on the recent election in America. Not as if the US has never done this in other countries though eh? Daffy Donald the 'straight talker' is probably overjoyed at having the NSA at his disposal. Straight talker? This man cannot even form coherent sentences...too much time tweeting can do that. Remember Tony Blair describing himself as 'a pretty straight sort of a guy'?? ARF. Reminds me of Hunter S Thompson epithet about President Nixon; 'This guy was so crooked he had to screw his pants on every morning'.  

Duck Fart called the ex boss 'crazy...a real nut job'. Seems reasonable enough eh? A prerequisite for the top job of such a serious agency. A day later, two of those

mentioned in the FBI's case of the Kremlin's pupeteering met POTUS in the White House... without journalists or tapes etc. Not suspicious at all. Impeach him now. And as for Duck Fart's statement that the suicide bomber in Manchester, England was a 'evil loser'....Is this really an adult male speaking?   Almost wept to see a photo of him in Bethlehem, Israel... (getting tips for his Mexican wall no doubt) his motorcade passing a poster with the words 'The City of Peace Welcomes the Man of Peace'. As Dylan said, quoting from another source '...sometimes Satan comes as a man of peace.'.... This is NOT the guy to calm things down, build bridges and make all the children sing with joy. And that's enough of the news/ the olds.  

Admired this month have been PJ Harvey (one of the finest females ever to come from Britain, a beautiful talent and passion) Quentin Tarantino, the absolute genius of Wayne Shorter, truly touched by God. Zappa again, Coil forever, Jaz Coleman's first symphony, the Kammerflimmer Kolektief, Savages and Crass, last of the true punks who lived what they shouted about.

'There is no authority but yourself'.

So...did 'God' lie when it said if you eat the apple, you will surely die'? According to the infallible Bible, Adam and Eve ate and died not. So 'Satan' told the truth? You are already making up your own mind. Happy re-programming. Don't forget kids, the Illuminati are on our side:-) Good luck with the discipline of ritual and projection/ internalisation. See you in the interdimesions....Enjoy the summer of Love...the war for peace is an ancient one.  

If I had half a brain, I'd be dangerous eh?  

Stay well.