#thefirstavenger

Captain America: The First Avenger | Fortnite | Sims 4 CC

“I can do this all day.”

The iconic WW2 suit of Captain America, inspired by Captain America: The First Avenger and his Fortnite version, is now in The Sims 4.

CHAPTER ONE: THE BOOK OF CHRISTMAS

THE STORY BEGAN IN THE NORTH POLE, AND IN THE MIDDLE OF A BUSY, BUSY WINTER. The world had known centuries of joy and magic, years of Christmases and dreams come true, the season was coming to an end at once, after yet another successful year … until it suddenly came into an abrupt halt.

Until it, suddenly, came into an abrupt halt, when Santa Claus, Father of Christmas, let’s just say … met his untimely demise in an incident involving a sleigh ride gone completely awry.

Suddenly, chaos spread among the people of Christmastown, North Pole – as they, and all his elves, were left without someone to guide them – without a leader.

Who would deliver hope and joy in the world this year? They wondered, as clouds of hopelessness crept upon the snowy skies of their town.

Surely, they wondered, Mr. Claus would come back one way or another.

Surely, they thought, Christmas wouldn’t end – just like that.

Right?

And the elves, they didn’t know what to do!

And so they waited, they waited days – and months – not knowing what to say when the Easter Bunny came to visit asking for his friend Santa, or when Jack Skellington, King of Halloween, wanted to extend his respect and wish his neighbour good luck for the holiday to come after his.

Not knowing what to do, the more December approached … and the people of Christmastown, the elves, the Head Elf himself, only could do so much.

Shortly, the latter assembled the Council of Christmas from all over the world at the town hall, to discuss the matter at hand – which included the usual elves, reindeers, snowmen, Yule lads, Befana, Jack Frosts, the remainder of the Claus family, and many other notable figures of the season.

‘’These are unforeseen, dark times, my friends,’’ the Head Elf opened his statement, as he marched upon the bench, made for judges and figures of authority such as his. ‘’Traditionally,’’ he said, ‘’the title of Santa Claus would be passed down to his children, but seeing as there is none of the latter,’’ he sighed, then added, ‘’I’m afraid we will have to make the decision to …’’

The Head Elf paused at his statement. Carefully thinking what to say next.

Cancel Christmas? He thought. No, impossible. It would create an outrage.

Or perhaps … somehow, replace Santa Claus? He wondered. That would also create an outrage.

But …

It was possible.

‘’I’m afraid that,’’ the Head Elf continued, ‘’us The Council, dutiful servants of the Order of Yuletide, will have to make the unprecedented and imperative decision to team up, and … find a new Santa Claus.’’

Evidently, his suggestion was met with some outrage:

‘’A new Santa Claus?’’ some of elves shouted indignantly, ‘’That is a scandal!’’

‘’No, no, no, this can’t be happening!’’ The snowmen said, as they wept icicles again. ‘’Why would you want to replace him?!’’

Yet more of the lot agreed. It was of the utmost importance, after all, to save Christmas:

‘’Because we absolutely have to save Christmas!’’ the elves and other creatures on the agreeing side retorted – bellowing back. ‘’’Whatever it takes to make it a magical time’. Isn’t that what he used to tell us?’’

‘’The role of the Befana was never passed down,’’ the Befana chimed in, her voice calm and certain – a figure of ancient wisdom and the most prominent member of the council. ‘’It has always been fate, gift and merit that chose us, century, after century. There is no Santa in Italy – only us. And so, the same may yet be true for you.’’

Many agreed again, and praised her for her wisdom. Yet others were quick to retort:

 “But we are talking about the rest of the world!”

 “And who could ever replace someone like him?!” the snowmen sobbed dramatically, puddling slightly as the Jack Frosts hovered around them, unsure whether to comfort or refreeze them.

“Order! We need order!” the Head Elf barked through the commotion, hammering his gavel. It didn’t boom - it jingled, a soft chime echoing through the room like an embarrassed Christmas ornament.

Silence fell instantly. Even the snowmen sniffled into their scarves.

‘’Dear people of the North Pole – and my fellow elves, in particular,’’ the Head Elf continued, ‘’you have all been made aware, at some point in your lives, of a certain … prophecy, dictated long ago.’’

A murmur rippled through the room.

‘’What prophecy?’’ some whispered.

‘’The prophecy I am referring to,’’ the Head Elf replied, ‘’states that whenever a Santa Claus is – suddenly taken from us – another is destined to rise in his place.’’

And so silence fell upon the Christmastown Town Hall, quickly followed by question after question:

Who, and how?

And most of all: When?

Christmas was approaching!

With Christmas fast approaching and the North Pole in shambles, the elves grew desperate to find an answer. So they turned to all their advanced technology and tools, scanning the skies for a sign – being the brilliant creatures they are – while others buried themselves in every library and mythical or ancient archive known to man, hoping to make sense of the chaos.

Three hundred and sixty-three days slowly dwindled into three hundred … until, at last, they were left with two hundred and ninety-five days to save Christmas - an important threshold in their world.

By this date, half the gifts in the world should have been selected and prepared, the new sleigh chosen, and the town lights tested. Ready to be lit by Santa himself.

The magic should be there, yet it was fading by the days …

And still – no one to guide them.

No one to spread the magic.

Surely, there had to be sign written in the skies, or some ancient scripture to tell them exactly what to do.

But the elves, the dutiful keepers of the season, searched everywhere. Everywhere they were allowed to search – libraries, observatories, archives, even forgotten workshops buried beneath the now. They even consulted their fellow Council, and friends from far away lands … and still, they found nothing.

And so, inevitably, their incredibly clever minds turned to the one place no elf was ever meant to enter.

Santa’s quarters.

For centuries, his rooms had remained untouched, and preserved as sacred ground. Not out of fear – but out of respect. Not a soul dared to cross its doors.

Besides, the elves knew what lay within.

Each Santa Claus before him had left something behind: a record, a guide, a legacy. One book - one sort of grimoire - passed down through time. It was part instruction, part spells, part diary entries, part stories. Knowledge meant only for Santa Claus alone.

Things, in those quarters, no one else had business knowing.

Well … not until now.

Desperate times, sadly called for desperate measures.

And so, for the first time in perhaps centuries, the doors were opened.

And there it was …

The Book of Christmas.

A tome that answered every question imaginable:

How to Go Through Chimneys?

How to Train Your Reindeers?

The Story of Rudolph the Reindeer?

How to keep your Snowmen frosty?

How Santa Claus was Chosen? (Heir of Santa) …

Everything.

Down to what no one ever wished to read:

What to Do in Case of St. Nicholas’s … Untimely Demise?

And within those pages lay the answer they had been searching for all along:

The Prophecy of the Next Santa Claus

And it confirmed it.

Indeed, a new ruler would come among them. But if he did not appear on his own, they were to seek him instead.

And according to the prophecy written in that grimoire, should they seen the next Mr. Claus, they were to: follow the star.

‘’The star?’’ an elf squeaked, nearly dropping his mug of hot cocoa as they rummaged through the old book.

‘’That’s impossible!’’

‘’Well, not quite impossible,’’ another muttered. ‘’Just … incredibly rare.''

According to the prophecy, the next Santa Claus would appear to them with a shooting star, in the middle of the night – any night. Moreover, it would be an incredibly rare instance.

And that star would guide them to someone who had met the three following criteria:

I. He who shall be revealed beneath a shooting star, crossing the northern skies in the heart of night.

II. He who had been very – and the most – opposite of naughty all his life.

III. He who has inner and outward strength unmatched.

IV. He who has a heart pure beyond measure.

V. And most importantly, he who had just committed his final act of selflessness.

‘’Yes, the star,’’ the Book itself seemed to whisper, in the dark of the isolated St. Nicholas’s quarters. ‘’The one living within every Santa Claus.’’

‘’But that is so rare!’’ another Elf said.

‘’It is possible, still!’’

‘’And when do we expect that star to come?’’ the Head Elf asked the book, as he held its pages.

‘’When the time is right, when you need it the most,’’ the Book of Christmas seemed to have whispered again. And then it almost sang, like an incantation of sorts:

‘’An enchanted shooting star will pass through the heavens, into the north and land upon the earth – leading the way to the next Santa Claus …’’

This left the elves shaken, but not defeated.

Hope still flickered beneath the frost.

And they would find the next Santa Claus.

They were determined to.

Unbeknownst to them, the shooting star was already on its way …

And somewhere in the world, someone had already been chosen.

Somewhere beyond the frozen horizon, destiny would descend from the skies, and indeed, in the direction of the north …

Little did the people of the North Pole know, he would arrive with a plane crashing into the Arctic – only miles away.

Only hours away.

And they were going to find him.

They had to.

They absolutely had to.

a/n: pictures and gifs are not mine, credit to their original owners :)

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“Her... that’s Y/N Stark. Yes, Howard Stark’s sister, she runs Stark Industries with him. The best engineer Brooklyn has ever seen.”

b. November 2nd, 1918

“Howard Stark...you already know about him. He’s her brother. They’re best friends. You can’t have one without having the other follow you.”

b. August 15th, 1917

“James Buchanan Barnes-Bucky-...my best friend, heart breaker of Brooklyn. A real charmer.”

b. March 10th, 1917

“This is Steve Rogers. He’ll be receiving the serum. Starks, get to work.”

b. July 4th, 1918

“Stevie, this is Margaret Carter. You can call her Peggy. A real good friend of mine.”