I have come to understand that it is possible, Frederick, to be a patriot and at the same time question and judge the wisdom and rightness of the government in power.

★

if i look back, i am lost
tumblr dot com
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
d e v o n

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Show & Tell

shark vs the universe
No title available
DEAR READER

pixel skylines
dirt enthusiast
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
No title available
Stranger Things

Kaledo Art
Mike Driver
trying on a metaphor
Today's Document

oozey mess

seen from Netherlands

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Spain

seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@codacodebreaker
I have come to understand that it is possible, Frederick, to be a patriot and at the same time question and judge the wisdom and rightness of the government in power.
klaraxblom:
it felt like hours went by as she stood in front of his door. minutes ticked by like hours as she fidgeted with her hands, too afraid to will them to knock. there was no way of knowing what was on the other side of it. sure it would be henry but how would he be? after everything that happened she wanted to give him some space before she bombarded him with her presence once again.
after waiting long enough here she was just standing at his door, feeling completely stupid for the butterflies in her stomach. there was no sense in delaying this anymore, the time would just keep ticking away. raising a pale hand up she finally knocked on the door separating them. “henry…can i come in?”
@codacodebreaker
the knock on the door echoes hesitance inside his room, bringing with it a sense of trepidation. a mission gone just a tad sideways, henry can only guess as to who’s knocking before the voice comes, quiet. of all the people to knock at his door, klara is somehow not who he expected ( thinks perhaps mortimer might come to berate him on levi’s behalf ; which henry doesn’t feel is entirely undeserved, at this point, after days of reflection ). the ache of his calf, the sting of taut skin threatening to loosen tight stitches each time he moves serves as a reminder of that. perhaps she’s come like a wraith to remind him of his failings. he knows his mother would think so ; after all, rash decisions made for the fear of putting a loved one in danger will ultimately always be his downfall.
❛ the door is unlocked, ❜ he calls ––– a temporary habit that he hated, but undoubtedly the easiest way for charlie to check in on him as he’s healing.
pawvn:
&&. closed starter | @codacodebreaker !
ideally, charlie would give the injured men longer than a week of bed rest, but time is of the essence in their unfortunate case. healing, once the bleeding has been stopped and the general high-risk of death or serious bodily harm has been avoided, turns into an act of diligence and patience, which is what has charlie so stressed out. henry’s wounds remind him of the bodies he saw in greece.
“ it seems like a rite of passage to get shot in the leg among this team, ” there’s a frown on his lips as he inspects the gunshot wound. he would allow henry to clean it out on his own under any other circumstances, but in their current situation, charlie wants to make use of this time to perform check-ups and make sure the process is going as intended.
“ well, it’s looking as good as you’d expect a gunshot wound to look after a few days. how is it feeling for you, any changes in pain or sensation ? ”
the joke rings tasteless, all things considered, but there is an inkling in the back of henry’s mind that appreciates the inherent futility of lighthearted humor despite the way his leg aches. he shifts in his seat, wincing as he takes both hands to move his leg into a more comfortable position, suffering a short hiss at the burn.
❛ peachy, ❜ the word is bitten off, every muscle in his body tight. whether due to exhaustion from the wound itself or from the sleepless nights as an inevitable side effect ––– memories of greece plaguing him, nipping at his heels each time the sun sank below the horizon. still, he supposes he too could see the dramatic irony in it, from an objective point of view, were he to take one ; but the burning of his calf hardly allows that. though, he agrees ––– he had it coming. the knives that lacerated his skin ( unwanted but not unfamiliar ) perhaps less so.
regardless, he reminds himself it’s most certainly not the doctor’s fault, and he softens his voice as he complies, green eyes caught on white gauze, ❛ but getting better. ❜
klaraxblom:
a steady thumping in her chest started to beat faster and faster and faster as she heard that familiar voice. there was no need for her to even turn around for her to know who that was. it would only hurt to turn around and see him. still she had to, she had to see him. so she finally turned to look at him.
“henry…” her eyes lingered on him. he looked the same from when she saw him the last on the island. maybe a hint of age was there but barely if any. she could only see her friend from the island at that moment. the one who picked her up from the ground when she’d collapsed after dealing with her father. the one who kissed her head before running off to possible death. and the one who just left her without another word. right now that was the person she saw standing in front of her, the one who just left.
her stomach twisted in knots looking at him. finally she pulled her eyes from him back to the field in front of her. "thought you might spend the whole trip hiding away.“ the words were maybe a little harsh to start out with but she was angry.
henry nearly agrees. it would’ve been easier, tucked away with his papers and codexes, but ultimately he knows they would’ve ended up here ; at odds, despite himself, despite the way his fingers itch to touch her. to reach out, to soothe as he might have done once. ❛ well, ❜ it’s no longer his place, he reminds himself, if it ever was. ❛ i suppose the dog needed to be let out eventually. ❜ and it’s not an apology, but it’s something. because it feels like that, more often than he cares to admit. he’s back, yes, but only after being blatantly manipulated through former –––
loved ones ? friends ? he wasn’t sure what roman blackwood was to him anymore. just another cut string that had come back to haunt him ( either way, henry knew he had levi to blame, and had avoided anything beyond polite acknowledgment and professional courtesy since ). ❛ you seem ––– ❜ well ? the way the sun shone over the white caps of the mountains made him ache for nuzzling muzzles of bleating pin cushions and low tides. ❛ actually, ❜ henry moved through the brush, walking toward her in slow strides. ❛ i don’t know. and i don’t wish to presume, ❜ a hesitant smile, gentle warmth folding in at the corners of his eyes ; more reminiscent of those final moments together than of the cold silence that had passed between them since. ❛ how are you, klara ? ❜
klaraxblom:
it was at times like this she would have really really needed a drink. that’s about all klara wanted right about now, just something to take the edge off how she was feeling. henry, lena, noah. all the hidden secrets. but of course, she had stopped drinking a few months ago so she just had to stew in the feelings bubbling up inside. she needed a small break from everyone so she found a nice quiet spot in an open field nearby. she hoped she could just take her mind off things for a few minutes, but even she knew that was unrealistic.
@codacodebreaker
leaving was easy. it’s something he’s had time to reflect on in the quiet of twilight, in fallen hush over english countrysides. he fell into it slowly, at first, so slowly. the sheep had needed tending, the house needed care, he’d said ; and his part was done, adventures written in the story’s pages, aches writ in his bones. the tall grasses clinging to him now in the brush as he goes ––– fields lush in the foothills of the mountains ––– drag his mind back to that slow slide, sweeping him up in daydreams of wool like clouds just at his fingertips.
he’s only ripped from his reverie at the sight of her ; her like a lioness, crouched among those tall, tall grasses, ready to eat him whole. ❛ oh ––– ❜ swallowing thickly, something like guilt undefined roiling in his belly, rising in his chest and threatening to spill over ––– almost, almost, always almost. he’d mostly kept to himself since his recruitment, afraid of exactly this moment, this moment. ❛ klara ––– ❜ leaving was easy. ❛ good afternoon. ❜ this was going to be hard.
rcmanblackwood:
@codacodebreaker
Roman’s thumb brushed over the etching in the metal of the silver lighter he tried not to use these days. He leaned back against the car, eyes peering out over the horizon. He was a real piece of work, pursuing Henry, wasn’t he? He knew damn well that Henry was better off on his family’s land, secure, able to move past the chaos and demands of the field – a field he still worried about him walking in. A god damn minefield.
He exhaled, pocketing the lighter again before rolling onto his side, pushing off the car to grab the door. It wasn’t far now, there was no sense putting it off any longer. He needed Henry. He’d couldn’t navigate the mines without him. The rest of the drive was quiet, not that the first half had been filled with any real noise, only the crunch beneath the tires of the car as he headed out to find him. The breeze was soothing though, the sun trying to peek through grey clouds as the warmth caught his arm. He parked, fingers drumming against the steering wheel for a moment before finally climbing out. It had been too long. He missed him. Something raw nestled between his ribs, tongue pressed firmly to the roof of his mouth as he made his way up the path.
He wanted to find Henry well, safe and sound in his family’s space. The thought of anything else was unacceptable. He refused to entertain it. Walking, his eyes scanned the grounds, knowing better than to just approach and knock without keeping sight of his surroundings. Henry might be retired, but he wasn’t stupid, and he was far from incapable of taking care of himself. He looped around the house, spotting the sheep first. They were well tended to by their shepherd, that much was evident from their visible health. Of course Henry was a natural at this. Their shepherd though, was nowhere in sight, though they were safe within the confines of the fence. Roman’s tongue shifted to press against the inside of his cheek as he considered where he might be.
Realizing, Roman made his way toward the water, the lull of the waves against the shore, against rocks in the distance, calling him forward. There was something steady about the crunch of rock beneath his boot, but the ache in his chest refused to give way even for the familiar sounds and smells of the english countryside. He’d grown up nestled in the city, but it didn’t mean he never enjoyed his time outside of it. At long last he spotted that familiar dark hair, longer now it seemed than when he’d last seen him. Tension rolled off his shoulders as his lip quirked into amusement, taking the rare chance to simply observe him on the beach near the water. A part of him considered turning around, walking all the way back up to the farm, passing the sheep, and climbing right back into his car. He didn’t owe this Levi gentleman a damn thing. But, even if he chose not to speak a word about what was happening, he wanted to speak to Henry. His voice appeared too often in his dreams to keep him from seeking the chance to hear it in person again.
His voice was clear enough to be heard from across the way, “David est-il revenu? Ton troupeau est magnifique.” He asked, eyes filling with a warmth that had been absent for some time as he came to a stop some paces away, eyes flicking between the sea and the good shepherd whose flock he’d admired just before.
the ocean roared, hungry waves crashing against the open shore ; the mouth of the sea open wide, wide, wide, and ready to swallow him whole if he’s not careful about just how deep he dips his toes. may meant the chill of the morning could be tempered by the warmth of the water as it rushed up to kiss his feet ––– something of a ritual he’d made a habit of, some few years running now. throwing stones, however, was rooted in his childhood on that same strip of the coast, and he dips down, fingertips sifting through fine sand.
the strain of the muscle of his arm as it swings, launching the stone into the sea, is immensely satisfying for reasons he ––– nor his mother, nor her mother before her ( neither mother, nor crone ) ––– will ever entirely understand. but it is, and he closes his eyes against the whip of the wind, breathing in deep, tongue sweeping out to lick salt from his lips ; tucking his hands back into the pockets of his coat, shoulders hunching against the chill of an english spring, henry feels –––
there is a sound from the dunes just behind him, high grasses brushing against a long stride. henry freezes, fingers twitching in his pockets, flexing ( hesitance, though the glock hidden ––– tucked between his belt and his lower back ––– burns hot against his skin ). his mind flickers, stutters, flashing through a catalogue ; the sheep are penned, his mother is in town, nan’s not begun to haunt them yet, despite her playful threats some two years ago –––
a voice sounds, a chill slithering like a snake down henry’s spine. ❛ oh no ––– ❜ all too familiar, long past, but not yet forgotten. ❛ oh non, je t'en prie, tu ne sommes pas chez nous ––– ❜ irrational irritation flares low in henry’s belly like burning embers because this can’t be good. he was so careful about keeping them hidden, keeping them safe. after all that’s happened. he spins on his heel, digging deeper into the sand, stubborn, green eyes flaring. ❛ salaud. ❜
ALL THAT REMAINS
codanpc:
@codacodebreaker
nails painted a glimmering blood red glint like talons as she drummed them on the desk. she leaned over the fine wood carved piece of furniture, too bothered to stand straight, but too authoritative to sit down. she wouldn’t dare create a power imbalance such as that, with him standing and her sitting. no - she would stand all day in those wretched heels if it mean that he, and everyone else who entered the room, would know that she is in charge.
she waved her hand to dismiss the guards, and beckoned henry closer, “come in darling,” the thick russian accent poured from her mouth like smoke, “sit down, make yourself comfortable as they say.”
“i hope you are smart enough to have figured it out by now,” she purred, shrugging casually, “i’m vronsky.”
once she saw him take his place on the couch in the center of the room, she slinked over to him. walking behind the couch she traced her fingers over his shoulder, feeling him shudder under touch, “henry, you have been invaluable to me over the past few weeks. i just need you to stay valuable. it’s time to talk, and if not…well, you know how it is, goodbye grandma.”
the tapping of her nails is like the tap of talons, claws raking across his shoulders as she crosses behind him. the pseudo-sweetness of her voice is cloying, saccharine to his senses as bile rises in his throat. however, despite appearances, henry is no fool. being an MI6 agent for twelve years means this isn’t his –– how do the americans put it ? isn’t his first rodeo ?
he was no lamb in a den of lions ; but rather, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. and, twelve years in mind, he was certainly no stranger to intimidation tactics. green eyes track the way her weight shifts, the gait of her walk, the sway of her hips ; voice low, calm as he breathes, “ i’m well aware, thank you. ” a pause, wetting his lips, “ is something the matter with the radio ? ”
preserved from the discord: the yeeting meeting
This morning each team member awoke to a small card being slipped under their door. On it written ‘410 noon. No weapons. - B’. 410 is Agent Brunhilde’s room number, and for the past few minutes all the active members of the coda team have entered the room. The five chairs in the suite have been positioned in a wide semi circle around the foot of the bed. The team has gathered in this makeshift meeting room to rat out the double agent and deliberate what is to be done with them. The door is locked, the air is tense, and there’s no way out. The fall from the windows is six stories into plated glass, only someone truly desperate would exit that way and they would not survive the fall. They have no limit on time, only what their wits will allow.for visual reference ( except a little more sixties )
Keep reading
3 & 11 !!
3. what was the worst thing in your character’s life ?
disconnection. henry, by nature and certainly not nurture (lord knows his mother and grandmother tried to teach him), finds it incredibly difficult to connect with others on an emotionally vulnerable, intimate, meaningful level – especially with other men (oh the irony). he’s gone his whole life having only his mother and nan, everyone else kept at a professionally polite arm’s length away. it wasn’t until coda that he was forced to forge more than polite camaraderie with team mates.
11. for what would your character give their life ?
there are two answers to this. ( 1 ) family. the people close to him are so precious and few & far between. there is nothing he wouldn’t give to keep them safe. he barely has friends, so they’re all he really has. and ( 2 ) his job. people may peg henry as naive or a desk jockey due to his seemingly frail nature (fair), but he’s actually one of the most experienced agents on the team. he knows what his line of work is, he knows the risks. he also knows the stakes. if self sacrifice is called for as a means to the end goal, henry wouldn’t hesitate. and hasn’t hesitated in the past !
❛ ahh, that fresh, haunted air. ❜
MONSTER FACTORY SENTENCE STARTERS / ACCEPTING
“ i suppose the catacombs are a bit ––– musty. but no ghosts to be found, i promise. ”
[ from noah ! ] ❛ we can try, but i don’t think– let’s try it. ❜
MONSTER FACTORY SENTENCE STARTERS / ACCEPTING
“ never thought i’d be making a puzzle out of a birthday card for a fellow operative, but if you’ve got the stationary, i’ve got the crossword. ”
❛ mmm, yeah. i’m ready for a slice of that beefcake. ❜
MONSTER FACTORY SENTENCE STARTERS / ACCEPTING
“ i would feel so much better if you were referring to meatloaf. ”
✆
HENRY’S MODERN AU CONTACT BOOK:
NAME: miss lena 🌸
RINGTONE: naive / the kooks
PICTURE:
✆
HENRY’S MODERN AU CONTACT BOOK:
NAME: robocop 🤖
RINGTONE: mr. roboto / styx
PICTURE:
[ from eden & noah ! ] ✆
HENRY’S MODERN AU CONTACT BOOK:
NAME: jackson county missouri
RINGTONE: red right hand / the bad seeds
PICTURE:
HENRY’S MODERN AU CONTACT BOOK:
NAME: noah 🐳
RINGTONE: time / tom waits
PICTURE: