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dreamwritesimagines · 4 months

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The Eye of the Hurricane [2] - Silk

A.N: Here's the new chapter my loves! ❤️ I hope you'll like it, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤️

Summary: Gifts can make good apologies.

Word Count: 3000

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don't condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Well, if the blood splattered on your face was any sign, tonight was not going the way you had planned it to go.

“This is lotus silk!” you snapped, still wiping at the blood on your face while you motioned at your dress with your other hand. “Do you have any idea how impossible it is to remove blood stains from silk?”

Bucky motioned at his men and they scattered along the bar, some approaching Steve’s men–the undying friendship between Bucky and Steve had its effect on people on their payroll as well, since they tended to hang out together— while the rest checked around the restaurant. You knew you were supposed to go to Ethan to make sure he was okay, but Bucky’s voice distracted you before you could even take a step.

“You’re welcome.”

“I know you’re not familiar with the idea of spending time with women who are not in your bed or have their clothes on,” you said through your teeth, running your hand over the blood stain. “But in case you forgot, when people wear nice things on a night out, they usually want to keep them nice—"

“Come on, we’re going,” he said, grabbing your arm and you yanked it back.

“No!”

“Charm…”

“I’m taking Ethan to the hospital, that’s where I’m going,” you said and he pulled his brows together.

“What?” he asked, “Who’s Ethan?”

“What happened here?!” Steve’s voice reached you and you turned to see him walk into the bar.

“Hi Steve.”

“Please tell me that’s not your blood because if it is, your father will end the truce just to put a bullet in my head.”

“It’s not my blood,” you said sulkily, “Not that it matters, because it’s never getting off.”

“Buck?”

“I was passing by when I got the news,” he said. “Came as soon as I heard.”

Steve looked around. “That man in the corner, he is one of the attackers?”

“Yeah,” you said and he nodded, then squeezed your shoulder in an assuring manner and approached his men. You huffed out and approached Ethan with Bucky following you.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked and Ethan swallowed thickly, then turned his head to take a look at the bleeding wound on his shoulder only to take a sharp breath.

“Okay, that’s a—that’s a bullet wound.”

“Congratulations, what is this your first time?” Bucky asked drily and you shot him a glare.

“Bucky!”

“What?” he asked. “It’s obviously not fatal, he’s being dramatic.”

“Hey, we’re taking the guy to the warehouse,” Steve said as his men dragged the only surviving attacker outside. “Charm, my men said you came without your usual bodyguards?”

“Yeah I ditched them.”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose while Steve cleared his throat.

“Alright, I’ll have someone drive you to your father’s house—”

“I can take her, it’s fine.”

“Did you fire the gun too close to your ear or something? I said I’m not going anywhere with you,” you growled at Bucky and turned to Steve. “I’m going to the hospital.”

“You said it wasn’t your blood.”

“I’m taking Ethan,” you pointed at Ethan who waved weakly at Steve with his free hand from where he was sitting.

“Hi.”

Steve blinked a couple of times. “…Hello?”

“Is anyone going to tell me who the fuck this dude is?”

“He’s my friend!” you snapped at Bucky and Steve tilted his head, then took a look at Ethan.

“I don’t think I saw you around before, what family are you loyal to?”

“My—mine?” Ethan tried, stealing a look at you as if asking for a clue. “I mean I couldn’t attend the last Thanksgiving but—”

“He’s a civilian Steve, we know each other from college.”

Steve raised his brows and Bucky’s eyes widened before he let out a chuckle.

“Wait, just so I’m clear,” he said. “You went on a date with a civilian outside your father’s territory without bodyguards?”

“It’s not a date.”

“Isn’t it?” Ethan asked, making your head whip around.

“Is it?”

“Unbelievable…” Bucky muttered. “Outside your father’s territory, Charm? Where are you going for the next date, a sinking ship?”

“A corn maze probably—”

“You don’t have to talk to him,” you told Ethan and he nodded.

“Sorry, it’s my first time getting shot so I’m not sure how it goes—” he paused for a moment. “Hey quick question, am I gonna die?”

“You’ll be fine, we will take you to the hospital,” you assured him while Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Do you go to the hospital for a papercut as well, Ethan?”

You groaned. “Steve, make him stop!”

“Guys it’s not the time for this,” Steve said, ignoring Bucky’s smug smirk. “Charm, how about this? We’ll take him to the hospital, give him the usual story, and Bucky will take you home. No offense, but I don’t want your father to rain hellfire here the moment he hears you were in a shootout.”

You pursed your lips and thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Fine.”

“Wait, what story?” Ethan asked and Bucky waved a hand in the air.

“Oh you know, the story you will tell the cops or else they will find you in a dark alley.”

“Ah,” Ethan said, stealing a look at you. “He’s joking right?”

“No he’s not,” you said, checking your phone. “Steve’s men will fill you in. Steve, the hospital in Sam’s territory is closer to here actually, it’s a ten-minute drive and I think Sarah is working tonight.”

“Okay,” he said, grabbing his phone. “I’ll let Sam know.”

“Come on princess,” Bucky said and you licked your lips.

“Ethan, they’ll take you to the hospital, is that okay?”

Ethan gave you a thumbs up and you shook your head slightly, then walked out of the bar with Bucky. One of his men opened the car door for you and you got in, fixing your dress and huffing out. Bucky got in as well, and the driver started the car.

You crossed your arms, stubbornly fixing your eyes on the window, watching the cars and buildings wheeze by while the car moved through the traffic. Your thoughts were spinning around in your head like a tornado while you tried to figure out who those men were and why they had attacked you at the risk of breaking the truce, especially considering that as far as everyone was concerned, you weren’t in the business. Your father had spent years keeping you out of it no matter how much you insisted to be a part of it, telling you that he didn’t want you in danger.

It hadn’t stopped him from making your cousin be a part of it though. Despite the fact that you were supposed to be the heir, he was the one who everyone assumed would take over once your father retired.

“You look beautiful,” Bucky’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned your head to shoot him a glare, making him heave a sigh.

“Charm…”

“You ruined my dress!”

He ran a hand over his face, his vibranium arm glimmering under the street lights you passed by for a moment.

“My deepest apologies for not paying attention to your dress while saving you.”

“I didn’t need saving, and it’s lotus silk!” you insisted. “Do you have any idea how many stores Becca and I had to visit until we found a nice dress?”

“Strangely enough, my sister doesn’t tell me about your adventures in shopping on a daily basis,” he deadpanned. “And I take it Becca knew you were going on a date with a civilian?”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“He thought it was a date,” Bucky pointed out. “Even while he was bleeding on the floor.”

“And what if it was a date?” you asked back and he shot you an almost chiding look.

“Civilians are a bad idea, Charm.”

A bitter smile curled your lips and you sat up straighter so that you could see him better.

“Oh good, I was just in the mood to get some romance advice from you,” you said. “Go on then. What does the perfect-heir-turned-boss think?

A shadow crossed his face for a second, but when he spoke his voice was completely calm.

“That you’re being too reckless.”

“What does it matter if I date a civilian or not?” you asked, almost daring him. “I’m not in the business, remember? Unlike you, I’m not going to get my family’s empire once my father decides to retire—”

“Aren’t you?” he cut you off and the sarcastic smile was wiped off of your face in a second, your heartbeat getting faster.

No way.

No God damn way.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, coaxing a small smile out of him. For perhaps the millionth time, you noticed just how handsome he was but the mere thought made you scowl.

Too bad he was an insufferable prick, handsome or not.

“Come on,” he taunted you. “We both know what I’m talking about.”

You paused for a moment, then turned your glances to the window to watch the road as the car reached the huge gates of your father’s estate. Bucky typed something into his phone, probably texting Steve, and you wiped at your face again just in case there was any dried blood before the car stopped by the huge mansion. The driver opened your car door and Bucky followed you as you climbed the marble stairs leading to the front door. You rang the doorbell, then bit at your fingernails.

“Miss,” the maid greeted you when she opened the door and you smiled at her.

“Hi Molly,” you said. “Where is my father?”

“In his office.”

“Thank you,” you said and nodded at Bucky so that he would come with you to the study. You knocked at the door and when you heard your father’s voice telling you to come in, you opened it.

“Hi daddy.”

“Hi sweeth—what happened?!” he stood up from his seat behind his desk and quickly made his way to you. Bucky closed the door behind you as you looked down at your poor dress, then shook your head when your father made his way to you to check you for injuries.

“It’s not my blood,” you said quickly. “Don’t worry.”

“Who did this?” your father asked, anger apparent in his voice as he turned to Bucky. “When did this happen? Bucky?”

“Arthur,” Bucky greeted him. “I wanted to come and give you the news myself, just in case. She’s completely fine—”

“Albeit very annoyed,” you interrupted him and Bucky repressed a smile.

“And very annoyed as you can see.”

“My dress is ruined,” you grumbled and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“I’ll ask the next guy who holds you at gunpoint to take a couple of steps back before I blow his brains out, I promise.”

“Much appreciated,” you snarked back but your father raised a hand, motioning at you both to stop.

“At gunpoint—what happened?” he said. “Who broke the truce?”

“No one,” Bucky said. “I assure you. It happened in Steve’s territory, but they were not Steve’s people. We left one of them alive, he took him to the warehouse to question him.”

Your father ran a hand over his face.

“Steve’s territory?” he asked before turning to you. “Sweetheart, what were you doing in Steve’s territory?”

“I um…” you stumbled over your words. “I—you know, that’s actually a funny story—”

“Becca likes the cocktails there,” Bucky cut you off. “You two were going to meet there, right Y/N?”

You stared at him for a couple of seconds, then cleared your throat and nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” you said, turning to smile at your father. “Uh huh. Me and Becca.”

“Without bodyguards?”

“We wanted a girl’s night out,” you said, making your father shoot you a look. “Alright fine, before you give me yet another one-hour long speech about being careful, I’d like to get all this blood off of me, so can we postpone it after I take a very long bath and get some sleep?”

He heaved a sigh and nodded at you. “Go.”

“Yay!” you said and pressed a kiss on his cheek, then turned to Bucky. “You owe me a dress.”

He held up his hands, gesturing surrender as you walked to the door, then closed it behind you. You stretched out before dragging your weary self up the stairs, and Molly approached you.

“Miss, I asked the girls to draw you a bubble bath.”

“Oh that’s wonderful!” you said, “Would you mind—”

“Your plate of chocolate strawberries and glass of champagne are already there.”

You pressed a hand on your chest with a gasp.

“Molly you’re an angel, you know that?” you said, then blew her a kiss as you made your way through the hallway to the bathroom. “Thank you!”

Considering how last night had gone, it was no wonder that exhaustion made you sleep like a rock. Though your dreams were in no way peaceful, your long bath had helped you relax just a little and it was only when someone knocked on the door that you woke up, a groan leaving your lips.

“Y/N?” your cousin’s voice reached inside the room, making a frown pinch your brows together. You rolled your eyes, then sat up in bed.

“What?”

“Can I come in?”

“If you must,” you grumbled as the door opened, and he stepped in. Unlike you, it was clear that he had been awake for a while which made you check the time on your phone, seeing multiple text messages from Becca before lifting your head to look at him.

“Ian,” you said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I was going to wait until you woke up but it didn’t seem like you would,” he said. “Uncle informed me about what happened.”

“Of course he did.”

“You should have told me about it,” Ian said. “As soon as it happened. This is a family matter, why am I hearing about this after Barnes or Rogers?”

“It happened in Steve’s territory.” You shrugged your shoulders. “What, am I supposed to draw you a map of the city all of a sudden?”

“And what were you doing in Steve’s territory?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was meeting Becca.”

He crossed his arms. “I still think you shouldn’t be that close with them. They could turn into rivals with the snap of a finger, and the family—”

“Just because you don’t have any friends doesn’t mean the rest of the family should be company to that misery,” you cut him off. “Besides, they’re our allies and there’s truce remember?”

“For now,” he pointed out. “Doesn’t look like that truce will hold if it turns out that your attackers worked for any of the other families.”

“Well, those attackers were not working for Steve or Bucky.”

“Wilson?” he asked. “He’s their best friend after all.”

“Sam is too smart to break the truce.”

“Then it could be Stark or Romanoff.”

“Or none of the families,” you said. “Everyone spilled too much blood for this, they’re not just going to break it in a way that’s that amateur. Those guys were hired gun for outsiders, I’m almost sure of it.”

“Well I’m not so sure,” he said. “And honestly, I think you’re being too naïve.”

Anger shot through you like lightning but you managed to keep your expression calm.

“I know them way better than you do,” you said, your voice cold. “And if you think you can make business with people whom you point fingers at as soon as something unexpected happens, you’re the one being naïve, not me.”

He narrowed his eyes at you and you glared at him back until he heaved a sigh.

“I’ll talk to Rogers, we need to be the ones questioning the attacker. It’s an attack on not just you, but the family itself—”

“The attack happened in his territory, he’s not going to just give him to you,” you stated. “But by all means, don’t let me stop you from wasting your time.”

He opened his mouth to retort but someone else knocked on the door.

“Miss?”

“Molly, you can come in!” you called out and she opened the door. “Ian was just leaving.”

Ian shook his head slightly, then threw his shoulders back.

“Just don’t go to places without bodyguards—”

“Goodbye Ian,” you cut him off as you leaned back on the fluffy pillows and he scoffed, then walked out of the room. You pushed the covers off of you while Molly stepped inside with a rectangular box in her arms.

“What’s that?”

She put the box on the bed. “It was just delivered for you.”

You hummed as you pulled the box to yourself, then tugged the ribbon on top of it loose. A gasp left your lips as soon as you saw what was inside, and when you pulled the soft dress out of the box, the card inside caught your eye.

Sorry about your dress, princess.

Bucky

He had gotten you the exact same dress that you had thrown into trash last night. You were painfully aware of the smile pulling at your lips and you got off the bed, then walked to the full-length mirror to hold it over your body.

No.

No way.

Bucky was an asshole who had ripped your heart out when you two were younger, and now that he was one of the biggest mob bosses in the city with so much money, power and influence, he was even more arrogant than before, which was saying a lot. You were sure that this nice gesture was some sort of play and contrary to what all these men around you seemed to believe, you weren’t naïve in the slightest.

You pursed your lips together and cleared your throat before you put the dress back in the box, placing the cover on top.

“You can throw it away or give it to someone, I don’t want it,” you said as you handed Molly the box, and she let out a laugh.

“Secret admirer?”

“Not at all,” you said with a laugh, then flung yourself on the bed again. “Just a trick. I’m not his type, and trust me he’s definitely not my type.”

Chapter 3

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!au #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob bucky #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob boss!bucky #mob bucky barnes

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defectivehero · 12 days

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warnings: suicidal ideation, conversations about death and morality, blood & violence

The hero looks out into the faces of strangers gathered around the coffin and takes a deep breath. The effort isn't easy, and it takes a few moments for them to calm their racing heart rate. This is all an act, they remind themself. It's all just an act—a farce, a trick, whatever one wants to call it.

When the agency had offered an olive branch to the villain, the hero's enemy, the hero didn't know what to think. They thought their agency was misguided—or, more likely, desperate—to attempt a truce with the villain. The hero knew their enemy well enough to know that a promise of peace wouldn't be sufficient enough to guarantee the city's safety.

Yet here they are, standing over their enemy's elegant black coffin. The agency had spared no expense in maintaining the act, it seemed. Beside the coffin is a photograph of the villain—one from their civilian life. And next to it stands the hero, who was chosen to speak at the funeral—to pose as a grieving friend. They initially opposed the idea, but eventually agreed upon realizing the charade was necessary to maintain the façade.

For this fake funeral to work, the hero had to learn about the villain. They learned more than they would have ever hoped to know—everything from the villain's upbringing to the circumstances behind their second job. The hero had studied up on Jordan: the person behind the villainous mask. Yet, as the hero stands over the villain's coffin, they can't help but think that they didn't prepare enough.

"Jordan was a close friend," the hero begins. The air is silent around them and the weary afternoon sun casts shadows across the malnourished grass. "A sibling to some, a coworker to others." The hero adds. They're doing well so far, they think. Out of the corner of their eyes, as they continue speaking, they can see nods of agreement.

The hero can't quite register what they're saying, as the words begin to escape them. They launch into a fake anecdote of sorts and their focus slips elsewhere. Their fists are clenched at their sides and their eyes refuse to leave the ornate coffin marring the center of their vision with a blackened smudge. They come back to themself at the end of the anecdote, recognizing that they need to find some way to wrap it all up neatly. (They need some way to finish this, please-)

"I can't imagine what my life would have been like without them," the hero realizes aloud. Indeed, their life would be very different if they had never met the villain. The hero glances at the coffin and a shiver runs down their spine. "And now that they're gone..." Their voice cracks at the end of that statement. Their eyes are unwittingly drawn to to the tree in the distance—where they know the villain to be hiding. Their enemy has enhanced hearing, and the hero knows they will be listening with rapt attention. The hero tries to focus on something else, but their thoughts continue to spiral.

The hero sees the villain's dead body sprawled across the pavement... They see dried blood stains sinking into the cement, the only sign of their enemy's existence... They see an empty glaze to the villain's normally bright eyes...

The hero sees themself waking up in the middle of the night and moving to the sink mechanically to wash the unseen blood from their hands, as they grow accustomed to nightmares where the villain revisits them... The hero sees themself slowly fading away into obscurity, their morality teetering on the precipice of something darker...

Someone in the crowd coughs, jerking the hero from their thoughts. They remember themself. "Now that they're gone..." The hero resumes, "...I don't know what to do with myself." Their throat is burning. They turn their head to the side and blink tears from their eyes, before taking a deep breath. With a shaky breath, they step away from the coffin and walk away from the funeral.

The hero would have walked straight past the villain, if not for the sudden grip on their arm. The villain tugs them off their predestined path and pulls them behind the cover of the conveniently large tree.

"Bravo," the villain says. It's only then that the hero allows themself to look up from the ground and meet their enemy's gaze. They're surprised to find the amused glimmer in the villain's eyes, the playful smile on their face. "That was rather convincing. Perhaps you should pursue acting."

"I-" I don't think I was acting, the hero thinks to themself. Imagining life without you genuinely made me feel... empty. "Ha, yeah." Their voice sounds off and the villain raises an eyebrow. There are a few moments of silence, but their enemy mercifully does not poke or prod at the subject any further.

"So," the villain drawls, burrowing their hands in their jacket pockets. The hero envies their collectedness and composure in this moment, but also worries for how unaffected they are despite it all. "I'm dead now."

"You're not dead," the hero feels the need to say. They're not sure who exactly that remark is meant for, but they have a feeling they uttered it to remind themself of the truth.

"Legally, I am," the villain points out. They cross their arms over their chest. "It's kind of freeing, in a way. Maybe I should pursue death as a long-term solution to all of my problems."

The hero's stomach lurches and everything around them seems to fall to silence. "Stop." They don't realize they've spoken until they see the villain's mask shudder around them, their eyes momentarily widening before returning to an expression of uncaring. "Stop it," the hero repeats, "I- Don't joke about something like that."

The villain regards them with interest. "Who says I'm joking?" They ask, nothing but sincerity in their voice. The hero is hit with a wave of nausea.

"That's- Please just- It's not funny. It never was." The words are crawling from their lips entirely of their own volition.

"I wasn't trying to be funny," the villain says softly, their voice almost a whisper. They're telling the truth, the hero realizes. And something in the hero just breaks. The frail string they had been hanging from simply... snaps.

"I don't want you to die," the hero finally chokes out. "Okay?" Is that what you wanted to hear—what you were trying to coax out of me? Well, I've said it. How fucking pathetic I must be, for caring."

"I wasn't acting. It was all real—real to me. I tried to imagine my life without you and I couldn't.

"I'm sorry," the hero spits, their hands shaking now. Tears are falling down their face now, blurring their vision. They feel deeply humiliated and embarrassed, especially in the wake of the villain's callous and uncaring gaze.

When they turn to leave, they don't expect a hand to fall onto their shoulder—and the hero certainly doesn't expect to be pulled into an embrace. The villain's arms wrap around them and the hero instinctively returns the gesture. Even if this is a trick, or some convoluted way to make them feel even more ashamed, they take comfort in the visceral feeling of the villain's touch and the physical confirmation that they're still alive.

"Don't apologize," the villain says, placing a hand on the nape of the hero's neck and hugging them tighter. The hero closes their eyes and leans into their enemy's shoulder. "I... I'm sorry for being so morbid." They say, an uncharacteristic depth of emotion present in their voice.

"I don't want you to die," the hero whispers into the villain's shoulder. It's a remark meant for only themself, yet their enemy hears it anyway. The villain stiffens for a moment, their shoulders tightening, before they grasp the hero with dueling tenderness and strength. Suddenly, the villain's hands are on their cheeks as the hero is pulled back to look at their enemy. The villain's gaze is determined and entirely honest.

"Then I won't die," the villain asserts. "Simple as that."

The hero knows it's illogical, knows that the villain will have to die some day—as everyone does. But the conviction in their enemy's voice is enough to dissuade them. The villain's grip is reassuring enough, real enough for the hero to breathe again.

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britishassistant · 27 days

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I have literally just spent the last few days going through all of the twst supervillain au posts. ALL OF THEM.

It’s not 3 am here for like the third night in a row what are you talking about

I have so many thoughts and could ask so many questions but I am limiting myself for now because spamming is bad! No spamming, me! 😂

SO we got the event of Azul and the twins finding out that Yuu is the child of Crowley. And we got that little snippet saying Yuu wanted Azul to help them tell the other villains so they could just get it out of the way because they were tired of having it hang over their head.

BUT WE NEVER ACTUALLY GOT THOSE SCENES/THAT SCENE!

I wanna know how that wentttttt!!!! What happened?!?! How did it go??? Did Yuu tell them one on one? Or did they sit them all down together? How did each of them react to the news? I feel like it would have to be one on one because telling them altogether would be a recipe for a LOT of emotions all mixed together to create a volatile bomb.

Pleaseeeeee I wanna knowwwwwww!!! Please gift me us with your words of wonder oh supervillain AU writing deity!!!!!!

(Also I just wanted to say back when you were giving out names to everyone my first thought for a name for Kalim was just ‘Minion’ because you compared Jamil and Kalim to Megamind and Minion and I was like “that would be a total Jamil thing to do - just call Kalim ‘Minion’ because he was tired of Kalim getting all the attention in their civilian lives and this was supposed to be about JAMIL DANGIT so even though Kalim invited himself along he doesn’t get a cool name he just gets ‘Minion’ and Kalim would unironically love it. But then you named him Water Boy and that has the same energy lmao 😂)

Thank you so much for enjoying the supervillain AU so far!!

(Make sure you get some sleep though!! It’s important to try and maintain a regular sleep schedule!!)

And basically the answer to your question is that Yuu called a quasi-truce of sorts to sit down all the supervillains to deliver the news. Both because it was the easiest way to avoid the accusations of favoritism that would arise if the reporter went around one at a time, and ensured they’d only need to go through the whole thing once.

Of course, the other six supervillains are only willing to humor this because it’s Yuu that called it. They may have all brought their most trusted aides along with certain, ah, “safety measures” just in case anyone else tries anything, but even these are pretty tame compared to their usual fare. It’s a silent agreement that everyone is on their best behavior in front of their host.

Even if they’re a bit disgruntled by the fact that this meeting is being held in the second Monstro Lounge location, and Leviathan and the Leech twins are flitting around Yuu like a particularly jealous school of fish.

Worse, the reporter isn’t even telling them to stop.

And then Yuu finally comes out with what they want to say and—

Oh.

Oh, now the other supervillains can understand Azul’s protective impulses.

Vil and Idia are having the hardest time processing it and have the most questions, all told. Their mental image of Crowley and their mental image of Yuu are so different after all, it’s a struggle not to ask, “but has there actually been a paternity test and are we sure this isn’t just one of the world’s most depraved lies?”

In fairness, Crowley has done nothing to disabuse them of the notion that this isn’t the exact kind of behavior he would sink to if mildly inconvenienced.

Of all of them, Malleus and Riddle are probably taking it the best. After all, they both know what it’s like being the prized heirs of people who cannot afford to let them shirk their duties. Either because the well being of others’ depends on them taking up that mantle, or their parent’s pride.

Either way, they’ll support Yuu’s search for freedom from their villainous father’s legacy, by taking up the mantle of head of Night Raven themselves if need be.

Please give Leona and Jamil two to five minutes to reboot. Both have partially blue-screened at the motifs of being cast aside and the inesacabilty of family bloodline inherent in Yuu’s backstory. Once they’re back to normal, they’ll be some of Yuu’s staunchest defenders, but give them forty eight hours to process first.

Maybe eighty two.

After Yuu’s answered almost all the questions, Ace butts in, “So, you kept sticking your nose in ‘cause you wanted to get kidnapped?”

Yuu shrugs, “Not, not wanted? But it was a bit less nerve wracking if I knew I’d done something to merit being there, so to speak. Made it less likely that it was because you’d worked out my heritage.”

The other villains and minions nod, satisfied.

But Deuce pipes up with a worried frown curving his brow.

“So, does this mean you won’t be investigating our schemes anymore?”

A hush spreads through the room. All eyes are fixed on the reporter, waiting for their response with bated breath.

Yuu grins, a gloriously competitive spark in their eyes. “Oh, you wish.”

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mariacallous · 5 months

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(J. Jewish News of Northern California via JTA) — The City Council in Oakland, California, unanimously passed a resolution on Monday night calling for a permanent ceasefire in the Israel-Hamas war, after listening to hours of intense and sometimes violently anti-Israel comments.

“It was the most antisemitic room I have ever been in,” said Tye Gregory, CEO of the Jewish Community Relations Council Bay Area, who lives in Oakland.

The council meeting exploded into public view on Tuesday after Yashar Ali, the social media influencer, posted a highlights reel of some of the comments, in which speakers accused Israel of killing its own people on Oct. 7, defended Hamas as a legitimate protest group and compared defending Israel to a man who beats his wife.

The people in the video were among the more than 250 people who offered public comment during the special meeting devoted to the resolution, which lasted for six hours.

Among those commenting on the video was California Gov. Gavin Newsom, who tweeted, “Hamas is a terrorist organization. They must be called out for what they are: evil.”

The Oakland council resolution focused on a permanent ceasefire, which Israel and many of its supporters oppose because it would leave Hamas in power in Gaza. The measure also condemned a recent spike in antisemitism and Islamophobia, acknowledged the “long history” behind the current war and called for more humanitarian aid for Palestinians in Gaza.

But it did not include a condemnation of Hamas. An effort by a Jewish council member, Dan Kalb, to amend the resolution to acknowledge Hamas’ Oct. 7 attack on Israel and condemn the terrorist group for its “repression and violence” against both Palestinians and Israelis failed, in a 2-6 vote. One councilmember, Treva Reid, joined Kalb in voting for the amended version, saying she actually supported the unamended resolution but would not allow Kalb to “stand alone.”

“I’m very disappointed in my colleagues except for Treva,” Kalb said on Tuesday. He said the idea of passing a war-related resolution without mentioning the Hamas massacre that started the war didn’t make sense to him.

“Let’s condemn all domestic and international terrorist organizations — who can be against that?” Kalb said.

Kalb and Gregory said they would remember the hostile atmosphere inside the council chambers.

“What we voted on was not the rhetoric at the microphone,” Kalb said. “A substantial number of people were trying to justify or rationalize the Hamas mass murder on Oct. 7. To me, that is so fringe and unconscionable and ridiculous.”

People who tried to legitimize the terrorist attack “should be embarrassed,” he added. “That is just nuts.”

Before the meeting started, the JCRC held a vigil in front of City Hall for the estimated 240 people in Israel who were taken hostage on Oct. 7. (As of Wednesday, Hamas had released more than 90 hostages as part of a truce deal.) About 50 people attended the vigil, while a slightly larger group of protesters across the plaza shouted and chanted to try to drown it out.

Carroll Fife, the council member who wrote the ceasefire resolution, said at Monday’s meeting that the document went through four drafts in a purposeful effort to “depoliticize” the language and focus on peace, without condemning Israel or Hamas.

“It attempted to bring the sides together,” she said at the meeting. “I want Jewish children to live as much as I want Palestinian children to live.” Fife added that she needed to acknowledge the “disproportionate deaths on one side.” According to the Hamas-controlled Gaza health ministry, about 15,000 Palestinians have died in the war; the figure does not differentiate between militants and civilians. Israel’s death toll stands at around 1,200 people killed on Oct. 7, most of them civilians, and about 70 soldiers who have died in Gaza since the ground invasion began late last month.

Kalb publicly thanked Fife for her “sincere effort to craft and support a resolution that doesn’t have the hot-button and problematic language that had weighed down other resolutions in other places.” But he said not mentioning Oct. 7 is “sending the wrong message and an embarrassing message.”

The city clerk noted that 86% of 1,254 people who weighed in on the issue online supported the resolution without any amendments.

The scores of anti-Israeli speakers who rejected amending the resolution ranged from passionate advocates for Palestinian children to conspiracy theorists to hardcore anti-Zionists who openly supported Hamas’ attack on Israel.

John Reimann, who lost his bid as a socialist candidate for Oakland mayor last year, compared Israel to a “wife beater” who complains when the wife fights back.

One Hamas supporter described Israel as a “genocidal settler colonial state” that needs to be “completely dismantled.” Others repeatedly described Hamas as a “resistance organization” and “not a terrorist” one.

“It’s a contradiction to be pro-humanity and pro-Israel,” one woman said.

Dozens of people who identified themselves as Jewish spoke at the council meeting, with many announcing they were anti-Zionist. Kalb said Israel supporters were “outnumbered.”

Anti-Zionist Jews wore “Not in our name” T-shirts and referenced the Holocaust in their opposition to Israel’s actions in Gaza.

“I know the price of silence,” said one woman. “Never again means never again for anyone.”

Seated in the audience, Gregory said he repeatedly heard people referencing “white Hitler” to describe Jews who condemn Hamas and heard others saying that “antisemitism isn’t real.”

“I don’t expect maturity from these antisemites,” he said. “But it was disappointing the city council couldn’t rein in it.”

The council “failed to call out the antisemitism” in the chamber, Gregory said. “They tolerated it.”

The San Francisco-based Arab Resource and Organizing Center, which Gregory called a “pro-terrorism organization,” handed out scripts to speakers that “justified and glorified Hamas,” he said. Gregory added that JCRC had been cautious in the past about describing AROC as supporting terrorists. “Not anymore,” he said.

Councilmembers repeatedly told audience members to stop booing when Israel supporters were speaking. Speakers who mentioned Hamas raping Israeli women on Oct. 7 — an ascendant topic of advocacy given the relative silence by UN Women about allegations of sexual violence against Israelis — were loudly booed.

One pro-Israel speaker said she was deeply saddened by the “slurs and lies” against Israel and Jews.

Councilmember Rebecca Kaplan, who is Jewish, used her time “in the spirit of bringing us back to our common humanity” by sharing the story of Isaac and Ishmael from the Bible. “Let them live, these two children of Abraham. So may it be,” she said.

Gregory spoke at the meeting in favor of Kalb’s amended resolution.

“I am proud to be a gay Jewish Zionist, and that means that I believe Jews have a right to our indigenous homeland. And that is not in contradiction to Palestinians having that same indigenous right,” he said. “Hamas is a terrorist organization that seeks the annihilation of Israel. This resolution must be amended to acknowledge the atrocities of Hamas and include its removal from power in Gaza.”

Even though Kalb’s effort to amend the resolution failed, he said he chose to vote in favor of the resolution because the final version didn’t include the “horrible, inaccurate, divisive language” that he’s seen from other local bodies such as the Richmond City Council, the Oakland Education Association and the Alameda County Democratic Central Committee.

Gregory said the city council’s resolution would have no impact on foreign policy but would help to spread a “culture of antisemitism” in Oakland.

“They should focus on policing and housing and education issues,” he said, “and not the most intractable foreign policy issue we have on the planet.”

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ave-aria · 2 years

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DP Shiptember Day 3: Confession.

(This one was very late. Shhh)

“Hey Phantom,” Valerie said, approaching him in the field near Casper High. “Playing with your pesky dog again?”

Danny tensed, slightly, then eased up as he saw she was in civilian form, her backpack slung over one shoulder, no weapons in sight. His reaction was more of a reflex than anything. They’d made a truce over three weeks ago - and while they were both wary, it finally seemed to be sticking, this time.

Rolling her eyes, Val dropped her backpack on the sidewalk and approached Cujo. “You know, for a mangy mutt, he’s kinda cute when he’s little like this,” she admitted after a moment.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed. “Cujo’s got the puppy dog eyes down pat.”

“Cujo, huh.” Valerie huffed, as the dog trotted up to her without a care in the world. His tail wagged. Reluctantly, she bent to scratch under his chin. “Hey, if you named him Cujo, why does this little troublemaker have an ‘A’ on his collar?”

Aaaand the tenseness was back in his shoulders.

“You don’t already know?” Phantom asked, keeping his guard up.

“Sure,” Valerie drawled. “I always ask questions when I already know the answer.”

“But I’ve been trying to tell you for months--” He started, then snapped his mouth shut. If Val didn’t already know, then that meant...

Val raised an eyebrow at him, then crossed her arms. “Well?” she asked. “I’m waiting.”

Phantom held his breath, looking her over, then let it out in a sigh.

“Valerie,” he began, “Cujo’s not my dog--” he sighed. “--He’s yours.”

A pause.

“Run that by me again?” Valerie said.

“--Well, not yours, exactly,” Phantom corrected himself. “He belongs to your dad. Or--to Axiom Labs, actually.”

He gathered Cujo in his arms and brought him over, adjusting the pup’s collar. Valerie leaned in, a frown pinching her eyebrows together as she examined the tag. Axiom Lab’s Signature “A” sat proud on the front side, metallic blue, and their logo, an atomic symbol, marked the reverse.

“That... is Axiom Lab’s logo,” Valerie conceded at last. She let go, leaning back. “But I don’t think they have dogs?”

“They don’t. Anymore.” Phantom said. “Axiom got rid of them. Replaced them with--” he hesitated. “An automated security system,” he settled on at last.

She looked at him, her eyes locked on his face.

“You mean my Dad’s,” she said, after a moment.

Phantom reluctantly nodded.

Valerie’s face was unreadable. She seemed conflicted, looking down at Cujo with something mixed in her eyes. Cujo, confused, tilted his head back and forth.

“So, what,” Valerie huffed at last. “You’re saying this is some kind of messed up Karma?”

Phantom tensed. “What?” he asked, though he had an inkling where this was going.

“--That my Dad’s security system put this dog out of work,” she elaborated, balling her fists. “And so it’s just natural that the dog would turn up and wreck Axiom labs in return? That it was my dad’s own fault for losing his job? That he deserved it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Phantom said.

“Well, good, cause he didn’t deserve it!” Valerie snapped. Cujo whined when she started to pace. “ - I mean it’s not like my Dad was out to get the dog or anything, Phantom! He was just doing his job! Minding his own business! What right does this ghost dog have to just, to just swoop in, snarling, trying to exact some kind of messed up revenge--”

“Actually he was just looking for his squeaky toy,” Danny said.

Again, Valerie stopped in her tracks.

Phantom reached into his belt pouch and pulled out the bear toy, giving it a squeak. Cujo’s head immediately snapped towards it, his glowing ears perked up.

“He’s just a dog, Valerie,” Danny reminded her.

Valerie stared at Cujo for a long moment. It was hard to tell what she was thinking, watching as Cujo snatched the toy from Danny’s hand and shook it, making it Squee-a-sQUEE-a-squEAK; but after a minute, her defensive posture slowly melted, her eyes going soft and sad.

“He’s just a dog,” Valerie repeated, voice wavering.

Phantom sighed. “Listen, Valerie,” he began. It was a little hard to have a serious conversation as the pup kept squeaking the toy, but he did his best. “It’s not your fault, or your dad’s fault, or mine, or anybody’s. Sometimes bad things just happen. And I’m sorry. I wish I could fix it.” He scratched Cujo behind the ear. “I just want you to know I didn’t, like, train him to attack you or anything.”

“I know,” she sighed, reaching up to scratch the dog’s ear too. “I just hate it, that’s all.”

“I mean, if you want someone to blame, I guess we can slap that on Axiom Labs. They didn’t have to put their dogs down, or fire your dad, or anything.” Phantom shrugged. He paused when he saw Valerie’s eye twitch. “What?”

“They--put him down?” Valerie repeated, looking at Cujo.

“Valerie...” Phantom gave Val an uncertain look. “He’s a ghost. What did you think happened?”

Her eyes flickered from Cujo, to Phantom, then back, frozen. Cujo looked back at her, then furiously squee-ee-squee-eeee-EAK’ed his chew toy, shaking it hard. It dropped out of his jaws, flopping to the ground. Cujo stared down at it, for a long moment, then looked up at Valerie, tail wagging.

Valerie stared at Cujo, then sighed. “C’mere, you little troublemaker,” she murmured, gathering him from Phantom’s arms before Danny could object. Cujo seemed perfectly happy to be in her arms; he liked her, for what it was worth. He didn’t even like Sam as much as he liked Valerie.

Val scratched his ear, looking sad. “Sorry pup,” she said. “Shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I’ve been trying to be better about that.”

Cujo licked her fingers, then barked.

She bent and gathered the toy from the ground, waving it in his face. “I guess I never thought about it,” she said at last. “--That you’re ghosts. That you died.”

“Well.” Phantom hesitated.

“I didn’t want to think about it.” Valerie said. “The truth is, I just wanted my revenge.”

Phantom didn’t know what to say.

“Well.” Valerie said. “If he’s my dog, I suppose I should take some responsibility, shouldn’t I?”

“I mean, you might have to settle for joint custody.” Phantom’s lips quirked, kniwing how Cujo sought him out any time he escaped the Zone. “But I’m sure we can work something out. He likes you.”

“Oh, does he, now?” Valerie put Cujo down on the ground, then waved the squeaky toy. “You want it? You want it, boy?” she asked, squeaking it erratically. Cujo barked, down on all fours. Reeling back, she tossed the toy across the field, and Cujo was off like a shot.

Sighing, Valerie turned to Phantom. “Forgive me?”

Phantom clasped her hands. ‘Nothing to forgive.” He assured. “But, uh.”

"Hm?”

“You, uh, might want to brace yourself.”

“...For what.”

Cujo came bounding back, in full ten-foot hulking guard dog form.

Danny reached out and made her intangible, (--in an amazing display of trust, she LET him--) and Cujo, going in for the tackle, phased right through her.

“He kind of gets over excited about his squeaky toy.”

“Ah.” Valerie said, sighing. “I should’ve known.”

#DP Shiptember 2022 #Valerie Gray #Cujo #Danny Phantom #Gray Ghost #Axiom Labs #Sketchy Sketch #Sorry for the Length

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beastenraged · 2 years

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Ace cannot be saved: An essay on One Piece’s Marineford Arc and the story afterward

When I read the Marineford Arc for the first time, I went in knowing Ace was going to die. It’s the biggest spoiler for One Piece and one that’s pretty much unavoidable if you wander around trying to determine if reading the manga/watching the anime is for you. Which I did.

Even knowing this, my heart had the audacity of hoping he would live anyway. As the chains were broken, as Whitebeard died in a final stand, as Ace and Luffy ran for the exit with gathered allies defending their passage, I even thought he was going to make it.

(That’s how good the writing is, the art is. Very good.)

But he didn’t.

Instead Ace dies, following the fatal flaw that a future flashback will inform us of, of him refusing to back down. Dying to save his brother’s life and thanking his loved ones for the last and only time, thanking them for daring to love him.

Enough to make any reader cry.

There’s a reason why “Ace Lives” is one of the biggest tags in One Piece fanfiction and fandom. Countless fics tackle the heart-wrenching fate of canon and rewrite it to save Portgas D. Ace.

But if I had the chance to change canon? I would never even dream of taking out Ace’s death. Why?

Because the story after it (and some of it before it) wouldn’t mean as much.

Before Marineford and the events leading directly up to it, Luffy and his crew don’t lose. They might have defeats here and there, but none are permanent and have lasting effects. There is a feeling of invincibility, that they cannot lose as the heroes of One Piece.

Sabody, Impel Down, Marineford...each one destroys this invincibility. Luffy will become Pirate King (because that’s that the story) but it’s not without actual challenge and loss.

Luffy loses Ace not only because he has to lose severely to show how dangerous the future ahead is and the need to get stronger. But he also loses Ace to prove that the world is forever changed and previous foundations (like the Emperors and Warlords) may no longer exist in the form they’ve been so far.

Also...

Ace does not get executed for being a pirate or doing any number of pirate related crimes. No, he is fated to die because he dares to have the last Pirate King as his father. This is something that would have happened to him even if Ace had decided to be a civilian who had done absolutely nothing against the law. Bloodline determines punishment and salvation, not actual actions.

Thus every piece of corruption and unfairness from the World Government so far comes to a head: it is not corruption from those particular awful individuals, but something rooted in its very core. It was always going to turn out this way because that is the way the World Government is built.

It is vital that this development occurs for us readers to realize the following: The heroes cannot hope to become part of the system or rule it, like in Naruto/Baruto. Nor can they hope to come to an eventual truce due to friends in its ranks, like in Bleach.

No, One Piece must has its revolution. Or the Straw Hats will all die for daring to even exist. It is a promise already set in stone by Enies Lobby.

Due to losing Ace, every fight Luffy has in future arcs has an added burning edge. He cannot lose because he knows what it is like to lose now and he cannot survive that again.

For example, the Whole Cake Island with Sanji means so much more with the shadow of Ace hanging over it and it meant a lot already. Luffy fervently fights for Sanji’s return, even refusing to eat. He cannot lose Sanji like he lost Ace.

Another comparison, that I will not go into detail for: Sanji choosing to save his awful family from a death they probably deserve at the hands of a greater power verses Garp choosing to defend the execution stand when he knows that Ace hasn’t done anything to earn this fate? Interesting. Very interesting.

In the end, Ace’s death has to occur for the themes and storyline of One Piece to fully come into play. []

#my thoughts #one piece #one piece meta #please let this make coherent sense #i have nothing against op fix its #but you have to admit that these 'fix its' don't make any sense without the canon tragedy #i'm curious actually if there are any one piece AUs where Ace DOES die or remain dead

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ridiasfangirlings · 1 year

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Hey, I hope you're better from your ankle! I was watching a kdrama (Good Casting) and ofc I need u to take one of the scenes to K LOL Imagine Fushimi being shot during a mission, and the alphabet boys (and Yata) make a fuss bc they find him fainted on the floor, bleeding, unresponsive etc. Then Fushimi goes to the hospital, Yata is crying his eyes out and everybody is like "wtf is wrong with him they are enemies right?" and it turns out the bullet just brushed Fushimi and he's fine pLEASE I NEED

Somehow my immediate takeaway from this is Fushimi is a giant drama queen who pretends he’s grievously wounded when he was really just grazed XD Say there’s this Strain with like high level sniper abilities, he’s already killed a few innocent civilians and has been targeting high level government officials. Scepter 4 is on the case trying to hunt the sniper down but even they’re having difficulties due to how good the Strain is at hiding their location. Homra also ends up assisting after one of their people is targeted and there’s like this uneasy truce between the two clans. Fushimi and Yata at one point end up stuck together investigating and of course they’re arguing the whole time, Fushimi mocks Yata for being so useless and getting in his way and decides to go off on his own. Yata yells after him but doesn’t follow, like if that asshole wants to go by himself fine. That’s when he hears a shot from the direction Fushimi went off in and feels this sudden sense of dread, running towards the sound like you asshole Saruhiko you better be okay.

He runs into the alphabet squad who are also following the sound of the same gunshot, they exchange concerned looks when Yata says Fushimi went this way. They turn a corner and find Fushimi lying in an open doorway unconscious with his uniform stained with blood. Yata immediately loses his shit, trying to shake Fushimi and yelling his name and the alphabet squad have to hold him back, like don’t move him too much before we can see where he’s injured. Yata’s fighting them off to get to Saruhiko while Akiyama calls for an ambulance, when it gets there the squad all follow after and Yata’s just left standing there staring after them, his own clothes stained with Fushimi’s blood.

With some assistance from Kusanagi and Awashima Yata’s able to get into the hospital, imagine him staggering into Fushimi’s room and just collapsing into the chair next to the bed as he calls Fushimi an idiot, like why do you always have to go off on your own why don’t you ever tell me anything, he’s just in tears and so upset because if he hadn’t let Fushimi storm off maybe this wouldn’t have happened. One of the squad tries to go in to talk to him and is tugged back, they’re all kinda clustered in the doorway watching Yata like I thought those two were enemies. Yata’s holding Fushimi’s hand and being all don’t you dare die you asshole you’re not allowed to die. That’s when he hears this hazy ‘noisy…’ as Fushimi opens his eyes, Yata all but bursts into tears as he pulls Fushimi close as he’s like you idiot I thought you were really gone. Fushimi is all hazy from painkillers but also aware that he’s being hugged by Misaki, this is the point that Munakata shoos everyone out so that those two can have some time to discuss alone (which is why he didn’t allow any of the squad to tell Yata Misaki that Fushimi is largely fine, the bullet grazed him enough to bleed but he fell backwards and hit his head and was only unconscious due to a simple concussion).

#sarumi #Talking K #actually during all the crying yata's probably like if you were just grazed why did you act dead you jerk #like how dare Fushimi make him this worried #meanwhile Fushimi is all hazy from the concussion and wonders if he's hallucinating crying Misaki #and that makes him accidentally honest and then they kiss

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almostcolorfulcolor · 10 months

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Death Note, meet Supernatural: Chapter 2

Relationships: L (Death Note)/Reader, L (Death Note)/Original Female Character(s) Work Summary: What if Death Note existed in a world with Winchesters in it? Would L finally have the evidence he needs to prove Light is Kira? How will L fare in a world where monsters are real and not every case is solvable by him? Lucky for him, there's a hunter here to work side-by-side with him. CHAPTER 1 Chapter Summary: Anne mingles with the taskforce. L accepts her presence...reluctantly.

Chapter 2: A Truce

“So you’re joining our team today? Glad to have you here. I’m Matsui!”, someone speaks puppy-like from my left side. I can’t see who as my eyes are still fixed on the douchebag in front of me. Others notice this as the boy to the left of the weirdo shakes him causing him to break eye contact and hand me the win.

I smirk charmingly at the boy and purr, “Thanks for that.” He goes wide-eyed for a moment before averting his gaze and mumbling something like, “No problem”. The boy and this weirdo are joined by handcuffs, what’s this? Glancing around the room, I see their team has a total of 5 members, excluding the tall dude from earlier- the weirdo, the goofball, the wide-eyed maiden, one old dude (from the police I guess), and a stoic dude that reminds me of Cas. I squint, wondering if he really isn’t an angel. Nope, there's no recognition in his eyes and let's be real, no angel would be indifferent to me after the mayhem I've caused with the Winchesters.

The old guy walks up to me and brings his hand out to shake. “I’m Asahi, a member of L’s team to catch Kira. The young man behind me is Moji, that’s my son Light and you already know L and Matsui. And you are?”

“I go by the name Anne. The higher-ups have sent me to take charge of the Kira investigation alongside L. I’m hoping you all cooperate and make this easier for everyone.”

The goofball starts to cheer to catch Kira when L interrupts him in a bored monotone, “Control yourself, Matsui. She will not be leading the investigation with me. However, to appease the FBI, she may observe the case without hindering my work.”

Flashing a saccharine-sweet smile, I stride over to his chair and rest my hands on its arms. He’s sitting with his legs pulled up to his chest so I feel like I’m cornering a small child. Steeling myself, I stare him down once again and whisper, “Listen up buttercup. I’m here and I’m leading this case with you. Tough. You have been working on it for almost a year and have only found out that Kira is in Kanto, Japan. You’ve got 12 FBI agents, 3 civilians, and 3 Japanese police officers dead- not counting the shit-ton of criminals that is. People are pissed, and they want results. Now I’m not saying you’re incompetent; your track record proves otherwise. But this is a big case and you’re stuck here. So stop being prideful and accept that you need the damn help.”

The room is so quiet when I stop speaking that I’m sure they must’ve heard every word I said. As I’m waiting for a sign that I’ve gotten through L’s thick skull, I see something in his expression change. Instead of being cold, his eyes turn liquid. Warm. I feel as if I'm a kid again, wrapped in a blanket, drinking hot chocolate after playing in the rain for too long. My head starts to swim and all I want is to climb in a bed and curl up to sleep. The longing is so intense that I’m startled when something is pushed against my lips.

My eyes must have fluttered close because when I open them, Baby Bird is prodding at my mouth trying to force-feed me a marshmallow. I figure it’s a peace offering and open my mouth to eat the treat. He finally chirps, “Okay, you can...help. But Kira is dangerous and the team’s safety is important. You’re new here so do not make any moves without consulting me for a few days till you get familiar with the case. I cannot deal with another Matsui.” Matsui’s offended “Hey!” rings out confirming that everyone is eavesdropping.

“Seems fair. But I want to know everything about the case. No secrets.”

“No secrets”, he hesitatingly agrees.

Glad that this has been dealt with, my energy dips even further and I want to sit down except there’s nowhere to sit. Sensing my problem, the teenager, Light, offers me his chair and I shoot him a grateful look.

Time to address the team. “So guys, we’re a team now. I know you have been giving your best but this Kira is too smart. Having a fresh perspective may help move things along. I’m on your side and working together, we will catch this guy.”

As everyone is nodding, an old guy from before comes in with a trolley loaded with refreshments. Manners be damned, I jump up for tea- Indian Chai, score- and a couple of grilled sandwiches. As I settle down and start eating at a speed rivaling Dean’s, I meet Light’s amused glance. I gulp down some Chai and explain myself, “I haven’t had anything except some Wakoucha since I boarded the flight here. I’m a hungry, hungry hippo right now.” He just laughs good-naturedly and says, “Eat all you want. Watari is a really good cook.” Hearing his name, said Watari comes up to me, smiling. Something about how he walks is familiar and then it clicks. “You’re the mean guy who brought me here!” He shoots me an apologetic look and starts, “I’m sorry, Miss Anne. I had to know L’s decision regarding you before revealing myself or anything about the case. I hope you understand it was a necessary precaution.” “Well, all is forgiven if you keep making me your Chai.” The old man looks relieved and goes away chuckling, “Certainly, certainly.”

I turn back to Light and find him staring at me again. At my raised eyebrow, he points to me eating my 3rd sandwich. “You just don’t see girls here eat earnestly like that. Makes you quite the sight.” Well, I must be quite the sight. I’m certain I’ve got some mayo on my face. He’s smiling so he’s not making fun of me but I still slow down enough to eat like a civilized person. I see the rest of the guys whispering in a corner and shooting me concerned looks. No worry, I’ll win them over soon. “So what’s with the handcuffs?”, I finally ask. Light just shakes his head, “L will explain it soon.”

Speaking of L, I find him working diligently on the cake now and sending it such an adoring gaze that I almost crack a get-a-room joke. Dean and he could probably write ballads about the perfect pie. Having finished my sandwich, I clean my hands, grab a water bottle and drag my chair over to him.

“Howdy, partner! Can you get me up to speed now?”

A/N:

The groundwork is done now. In the next chapter, we're diving into the Kira case!

Reblogs, comments and ❣️ are appreciated. XOXO

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

#l lawliet x reader #l x reader #l death note #death note fanfiction #death note oc #ryuzaki #supernatural reader insert #supernatural oc

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queen-scribbles · 1 year

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Gamble

12. possessive hand-holding [Kayris/Atton]

----

Kayris hadn’t really wanted to return to Nar Shaddaa. It didn’t strike her as a particularly wise move, between the bounty hunter truce being gone and the bounty on Jedi(given there were several on her ship now), it struck her as high risk. But there were parts they needed to fix the hyperdrive--and Bao-Dur’s arm--that were unavailable through more legal means. It was a gamble, but one they needed to make, and part of her knew it.

So she had caved--reluctantly, and only when Atton, Mira, and Bao-Dur had all ganged up to argue for the stop.

“We can’t chase Revan into parts unknown if the Hawk doesn’t even work,” Atton had pointed out.

“Fine,” she’d sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

His expression softened. “It’ll be a quick stop, Ris. ‘Specially now that we have the credits to grease palms an’ expedite things.” He’d taken her hands, given a reassuring squeeze paired with a smirk. “Hell, maybe the bounty hunters’ll be too busy killin’ each other to notice we’re there.”

“We can but hope,” she’d deadpanned, remembering their last visit in vivid detail.

Even once they landed and she, Atton, and Mira were headed down the ramp, civilian-attired rather than Jedi robes to blend in, Kayris had a bad feeling that made it difficult to relax.

“You’re gonna stand out if you’re all twitchy, Ris.” Mira nudged her with an elbow. “I know a guy for the ship parts, always well stocked. Not like we’ll hafta go on a scavenger hunt, and we can even afford to give him a bonus for speed.”

“And what about the parts for Bao-Dur’s arm?” Kayris asked, picking at the hilt of her lightsaber(even if that defeated the point of wearing a duster to conceal it). “Does he stock those, too?”

“No,” Mira conceded, “but there’s another guy who should-”

“And since I think I know who you’re talkin’ about, I’ll handle that one,” Atton interjected. “Too big a group’ll draw more attention. Kuin, right?”

Mira nodded, looking impressed. “Yep. So we’ll get the ship parts, you’ll get the cybernetic parts, meet up... back here? At the cantina?”

“Back here is better, if we’re trying to make this a short stop, isn’t it?” Kayris said, then smirked teasingly at Atton. “We let him loose in a cantina, it’ll be anything but short.”

“Hey, now,” he protested with a smirk of his own. “It’s not my fault a lot of people are worse at pazaak than alcohol makes them think they are.”

“But it is that you don’t stop,” she countered, arching a brow.

“True,” Atton said with a shrug and laugh.

“So back here it is,” Mira spoke up to keep them on track. They all agreed, then split off to their tasks.

---

Acquiring the ship parts went faster than Kayris--or Mira--expected. Apparently money talked even louder than it used to.

“Maybe you should check if flyboy’s done yet,” Mira suggested, lifting the rucksack of hyperdrive components. “Kuin’s chatty; it’s entirely possible he has yet to extricate himself.”

Kayris snorted a laugh. “And he volunteered for that risk?” She closed her eyes and reached out with the Force, picking through the abundance of life signs for his in particular. Better than pinging his comm if that bad feeling in her gut was there for a reason beyond paranoia. “Yeah, he’s not at the landing pad. I think we need to go rescue him.”

“Lead the way, boss.”

“Me? I don’t know where we’re going,” Kayris pointed out.

“Right. This way.” Mira took the lead, guiding toward the spread of shops between the docks and red light sector. It wasn’t a long walk, but it was a winding one--down a couple of alleys off of alleys. And one of Kayris’ eyebrows arched upon ducking into the small shop, because Kuin was a female Mirialan; very pretty and flirting very hard with Atton.

Who was playing along without really encouraging(not by his standards), but Kuin was either missing the not interested hints or taking them as a challenge.

Let’s make it a little more obvious... Kayris decided as she crossed the shop’s interior to join Atton at the counter, a swirl of... something in her gut. Not jealousy, she trusted him--especially after Malachor. But something affronted the woman wasn’t taking the hint was willing to make a risky move.

“There you are,” she said with a light laugh, slipping her hand into Atton’s and giving a squeeze as she shot Kuin a very polite smile. “I was beginning to worry you fell off an edge or something.”

Atton chuckled in response to the teasing. “No, just chatting.” He linked his fingers between hers and squeezed back. “That was fast.”

“Dol’rek was havin’ a slow day,” Mira spoke up, perusing a row of wire spools with studied detachment. “He was very interested in helping us get what we needed. Hey, Kuin.”

“Mira.” Kuin smiled, the motion crinkling the cybernetics along her cheekbone. “Was wondering where you got to.”

“You can thank my new friend for that.” Mira waved toward Kayris, who took the cue to introduce herself.

“Kayris. I see you had what we need.” She tipped her head toward the small package in Atton’s other hand. “I have a friend who’ll be very grateful for that, thank you.”

“That’s what I was telling her,” Atton said, leaning his shoulder into hers. “And that I’m glad I didn’t have to go hunting all over the moon to find it.”

“Happy to be of service,” Kuin said, glancing furtively at their joined hands(they both clocked it). A blue light flickered on one of her implants. “Keep me in mind the next time you need somethin’, huh?”

“We will,” Kayris said, “But right now we should be going.”

“Right.” Kuin bit her lip, as she nodded. “Thanks for the business.”

Kayris just nodded and didn’t let go of Atton’s hand as they headed for the door, a grip she noted he also maintained. She internally sighed with relief her gamble had been correct; he didn’t think she was just being clingy.

“Thank you,” he breathed, once the three of them were an alley turn away from the shop and there was no risk of being overheard.

“For what?” Kayris shot him an amused look.

“Getting me out of there-”

Mira cackled. “Forgot how chatty she is, huh?”

“Yeah.” He slipped his hand free and draped his arm around Kayris’ shoulders instead. “Also for not being too weird about how hard she was coming on.”

Kayris shrugged and leaned in against him as they walked. “I figure if a Sith held together by hate and trying his damnedest to kill you couldn’t break us up, a flirty shopkeep wouldn’t either.” She glanced at Mira. “Even if you did say Kuin was a guy-”

“In the catchall sense of providing a service or product regardless of gender,” Mira retorted before she’d even finished teasing. “Never dreamed she’d try to steal your man. She used to have better taste.”

Kayris and Atton sent her matching flat looks, which just made her laugh, before Atton commented, “The hand-holding was a nice touch, saved me from bein’, um--”

“Rude?” Mira supplied. “Boorish?”

“Direct. Not that those haven’t worked for me before....” He shrugged when Mira rolled her eyes. “Hey, I figure having contacts here who don’t hate us might come in handy, ya know?”

“He has a point, Mir,” Kayris chipped in.

“Shocker, you’re siding with him,” Mira said with a laugh.

“Not siding, agreeing. Wary as I might be of stopping here, having some merchants who think well of us isn’t a bad idea.”

“Sure, sure, now can we hurry it up, lovebirds?” She jostled the rucksack slightly. “This is gettin’ heavy.”

“No one’s holding you back, Mir,” Kayris said playfully. “Go ahead, we’re right behind you.”

“You kids behave,” Mira snarked as she settled the rucksack and picked up her pace.

“Yes, Mother,” Kayris and Atton chorused, then grinned at each other. Despite the joking--and rude gesture Mira flashed over her shoulder--the two of them didn’t say much for the rest of the walk.

It wasn’t until they were back aboard the Hawk and a near-tangible weight seemed to lift from her shoulders that Atton flashed Kayris a smirk and tugged her along to the cockpit.

She didn’t need much convincing, though she did lodge a token protest. “I should help-”

“I just need a minute.”

Kayris arched a brow when he sealed the door.

“I don’t need Mira of your fanclub hearin’ me get sappy--wipe that grin off your face, Ris,” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

She tried to look innocent, but given he could sense her amusement through the Force, it probably wasn’t very convincing. “Sorry. What did you need?”

Atton sighed, raked a hand through his hair. “I meant it, y’know. About appreciating you not being upset that Kuin was flirting. Most women I’ve met wouldn’t have taken it nearly so in-stride.”

“Yes, well...” Kayris took his hands in hers and smiled. “Most women you’ve met aren’t Jedi who can sense you weren’t reciprocating the attention-”

“Oh, right, Jedi are weird,” he deadpanned.

“You’re one now, too, remember.” She ran her thumbs over his knuckles. “And aside from that, I could tell from your body language you weren’t into it-”

“I’ve taught you well,” he drawled.

“Atton, I’m being serious” --the snicker shaking her shoulders undercut the remonstrance-- “and I meant what I said; I trust that you aren’t going anywhere.” Kayris grinned and squeezed his hands. “I know you’re all mine.”

“Long as you’ll put up with me,” Atton joked, but there was a deeper emotion shining in his eyes.

Her grin widened and she shuffled closer. “That a challenge, Rand?”

He smirked and leaned in until the tips of their noses brushed. “And if it is?”

She kissed him, slipped one hand free to cup the back of his neck and hold him close. I like a challenge.

His chuckle as he kissed her back hinted he’d heard the thought.

So she spent a few more minutes kissing him before she slipped away to help with the repairs. The sooner they could leave the better. For several reasons.

#queens fic #kayris vaithe #atton rand #mira #kayris/atton #jedi exile/atton #kotor2 #yes hello 'tis i writing fic for a 3 year old muse and 18 year old game :D

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wastefulreverie · 3 years

Text

another revelation (draws us closer)

written for day 4 of @ghostgothgeek‘s Shiptember 2021: Awkward

Valerie didn't have time for this.

In theory, escaping the broken elevator should be a piece of cake. With her blasters, she could pull apart the doors no problem and then maneuver her way up onto the next floor. All it took was one small mental command for her suit, letting the metal wash over her civilian clothes. Then she could join Phantom in the fight against whatever ghost had decided to wreak havoc at her school this time.

But as luck would have it, Danny Fenton was in the elevator with her. His eyes darted around the elevator, scanning for some way out. She didn't doubt his resourcefulness, he was a Fenton after all, but Valerie couldn't wait that long. She needed out of this damn elevator and she needed out now.

"This isn't good…" he muttered. "There's ghosts out there."

"Yeah, no shit. We need to get out of here before they bring the fight to us."

Or so she could bring the fight to them, but Danny didn't have to know that. She just had to act like she was worried for their safety and he wouldn't question why she was really eager to get out of the elevator.

Ever since her alliance with Phantom, she tried her best not to let the other hero take on too much of the workload. She felt like shit, just standing here while Phantom was out there fighting the battle all alone. There wasn't much that kept him away from a fight. She envied him for not having to deal with all this secret identity bullshit.

"Maybe my parents will take care of it…?" he suggested.

She scoffed. "Your parents' reaction time is crap. Phantom will be here long before them."

"Ah… yeah."

He didn't look like he had much faith in the ghost kid. Odd. Unlike his ghost hunting parents, Danny usually supported Phantom. At least that's how he made it sound in school—maybe he was just putting on for his classmates and shared more of his parents' beliefs than he let on?

Outside of the elevator, there was a crash. Danny jumped back, almost sending Valerie falling to the floor.

"Sorry…" he rubbed the back of his neck.

"You're good," she insisted.

It didn't sound like Phantom was doing a good job with damage control today. All more reason for her to get out of this elevator.

Her partner needed her.

Fuck this. Danny Fenton knowing her secret wasn't ideal, but she was out of options. Maybe since his parents were ghost hunters, he'd be somewhat understanding...

"I have something to tell you!"

Valerie did a double take.

They'd spoken over each other at the same time.

"I'm the Red Huntress!"

"I have a crush on you!"

Danny's eyes blew wide in shock and Valerie had to make sure that her feet were still on the ground.

Oh God. That was not what she was expecting.

She cared about Danny, she really did, but she didn't feel the same way. Maybe the shock of the first revelation would soften the rejection?

"I have a crush on Phantom!" "I'm Phantom!"

… what.

WHAT.

"Uh… I was not expecting you to say that," he admitted. "I wouldn't have… wouldn't have said that if uh. Yeah."

"I'm sorry," she grabbed him by the arm, "you're WHAT?"

Her face was hot and she had no doubt she was blushing. He could not be serious right now. He was just fucking with her, messing with her head. Because that's what Danny Fenton did!

He tensed in her grip. "I'm sorry, I wasn't uh. I mean, you said you're the Red Huntress and I already knew so I just thought it was fair to admit it because that wasn't fair to you to blow your secret while I kept mine and I've really been meaning to come clean since our truce and I've been putting it off because I was afraid that I'd make things weird between us and now I have and—"

She put her hand over his mouth. "Shut up."

He gave a muffled, "Mm-hm."

"You're not Phantom. Phantom, if you haven't noticed, is a ghost. I don't know why you're playing with me, especially after I just told you I'm an actual ghost hunter but it's not funny at all. Now, if you don't mind, I have to go take care of that ghost—"

She watched in horror as the hand held against Danny's mouth pushed through his head and into the space behind him. Danny stepped to the side, far too calm for someone who'd just had an arm pass through his skull. "Yeah, so about that. I am a ghost."

In a flash of light, Danny's clothes began to darken and stretch—skin tight. His eyes glowed toxic green and all remnants of color were stripped from his hair, leaving it stark white. In a matter of moments, Danny Fenton became the striking image of Phantom.

His feet left the floor and Valerie's whole world spun on its axis.

"And a pretty good-looking one, I may add," his voice dripped with cheekiness. "Given that I've captured the affections of one gorgeous ghost hunter~!"

Holy shit.

He was Phantom.

She'd just… she'd just told her crush she liked him.

He was never going to let her live this down.

"No!" she bemoaned. "Not you!"

Phantom frowned. "Uh… that wasn't. I'm uh, sorry if I wasn't what you expected..."

"This is humiliating!" she cried. "I just told you to your face and—and—"

There was another crash outside of the elevator. Valerie spun toward the noise, danger forgotten. Phantom reacted as well, raising his ectoblast-charged fists toward the commotion.

"We can talk later," he said. "I'll get us out of here."

Before Valerie could protest, Phantom pulled her toward him and she felt her insides chill. They flew through the elevator door, and as fast it had come, the foreign feeling ceased. Phantom lowered her to the floor and gave her a knowing nod before flying off toward the battle.

Well, it was now or nothing.

If the fight wasn't awkward, then the conversation afterward definitely was.

She and Phantom—Danny?—managed to catch the ghost in under five minutes. It was all contingent on Valerie capturing the ghost in her thermos while Phantom kept it weakened. The specter struggled as it was pulled into the capture device, but they were victorious nonetheless.

Well, if they could call this a victory. The ghost, a vengeful lioness, had wreaked an unprecedented amount of havoc on the school's east wing. Several classrooms were missing walls and rows upon rows of desks had been decimated. If only they'd left the elevator sooner…

"This is going to take weeks to repair," Phantom commented. He hadn't been injured much during the fight except for a thin scratch across his forehead that bled green. If she remembered correctly, it was an injury he'd gotten during their last fight. It must've opened again. "Good thing winter break is just around the corner."

Valerie's mouth suddenly felt dry. "Y—yeah."

"So uh, about this. You… are you okay with this? Like, we're not going to break our alliance now that you know I've been lying to you and—" he blushed a furious green "—and about what I said earlier."

Phantom was Danny Fenton and he liked her back.

Valerie didn't even know where to start. Obviously, she still liked him. Being Danny Fenton didn't change much, given that she'd fallen for him once before and only broke it off because she didn't want him to get hurt because of her ghost hunting. Except, now she'd fallen for him twice and she hadn't even known it because Danny was also a ghost hunter and a ghost and—

How was it even possible?

How could someone be a human and a ghost at the same time?

"I don't get it," she blurted. "How are you the same person? Like, not that there's anything wrong with you and Danny being the same—our alliance is fine—but I don't get it."

In the air, Phantom sat cross-legged and raised a hand to his chin. (It was so cute when he did that—!)

In a rush of words, he explained his lab accident and how he'd stepped up as the town's ghostly protector. It was an eye-opening revelation that provided context for so many things she'd taken for granted. He explained how he'd known she was the Red Huntress since the beginning and how hard he'd fallen for her when they'd first dated, how he still liked her even though he respected her breaking it off.

"I just don't want to make this awkward if you don't feel the same way anymore," he said. "I know that you said you liked Phantom, not me as Danny. I'm just some dork and I get that."

She scoffed. "Yeah, you are a dork!"

Something in his resolve deflated, but she continued.

"You're a dork as Phantom too, you know? Why would that change anything? I said I like you and I meant it!"

She was blushing again, she knew it, but she couldn't quite find a reason to care.

"For real?"

Phantom let himself lower to the floor and in another flash he was Danny again. Just plain old Danny Fenton with black hair, blue eyes, and a loose T-shirt that seemed to swallow him whole.

Valerie leaned forward and grabbed his hands, looking deep into those blue eyes—which now that she looked, had small flecks of green.

"For real, Danny."

#Danny Phantom #Gray Ghost #Danny Fenton #Valerie Gray #Danny Fenton/Valerie Gray #Fanfiction #Phicc #Shiptember #Shiptember 2021 #Romance #wrwritings

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tlaquetzqui · 2 years

Text

Periodic reminder that if a “medieval” fantasy setting has the approximate social mores of the 1980s, minus the more libertine parts of the Sexual Revolution, it’s actually roughly what medieval mores were.

Specifically:

Slavery was largely abolished in the Latin West between about 750 and 1436, and to own or traffic in slaves was latae sententiae (ipso facto) excommunication from the Catholic Church. Originally this ban only applied to Christian slaves but by the 1000s it was all slaves.

Even where slavery existed (fuck you Venice), no Catholic or Orthodox Christians have ever allowed masters sexual rights to slaves.

Women owned property, practiced trades, filled lawsuits, testified in court, and voted in any assembly (city councils, parliaments, chambers of commerce, I think Imperial elections) open to their social class. All in their own names not as proxies of husbands or sons.

Women learned to read as often as men and the receipts of the bookshops show they bought more books. Arthurian romance, by far the most popular fiction genre, was written for a female audience.

Spousal abuse was grounds for civil divorce and criminal proceedings. Under this heading they included taking one’s “conjugal rights” by force.

Rape investigations were begun on the same basis as any other crime, without the need to show a struggle as in China or produce multiple witnesses as in Islam.

They had the first war-crimes laws in human history, the Peace and Truce of God, which banned civilian atrocities, looting, and damaging infrastructure. Due to those rules, the Nestorian Christian monk Rabban bar Sawma, sent as an ambassador to the Empire by the Mongol Khans, was amazed how small-scale and non-devastating Latin Christian wars were, compared to the one in Asia.

The penalty for violations of those laws was interdict: the clergy go on strike in your entire territory, so nobody gets married, buried, baptized, ordained, or given confession, in your domain, till you make amends (usually concessions to the victim territory combined with charitable donations). This started to break down in the late medieval, as professional mercenaries began replacing the territorial levies, since they weren’t attached to territories.

The main labor force, serfs, were essentially free, except for being allowed to travel without permission or own military weapons. They were allowed to carry agricultural and hunting tools for self-defense, though, and they could not be made to leave the land even if they also couldn’t choose to leave it.

Serfs also couldn’t have the amount of labor or produce they owed their lord increased without their consent (and I wouldn’t compare the percent they owed to my tax rates, if I wanted to keep feeling good about modern life).

Medieval hygiene was as good as most modern hygiene, with public baths being very common, something like 1 facility for every 90 people. Most people bathed at least once a week, and when they didn’t they would still usually take sponge baths (except probably with washcloths not literal sponges).

Medieval medicine was better than 19th century medicine, sterilizing tools in rubbing alcohol and using anesthesia like laudanum (opium mixed with wine, learned from the Kurds during the Crusades), and low doses of hemlock.

Their understanding of disease was less advanced than of surgery (though still not much worse than most of the 19th century), with treatment mostly based on diet and herbal remedies, like a mix of Ayurveda and Traditional Chinese Medicine. But for example miasma theory (which was not abandoned till Pasteur) is largely adequate to prevent epidemics.

#things that ain't so #salty amateur historian #salty fantasy writer #fantasy worldbuilding #fantasy writing

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corvus-ix · 2 years

Text

Two Souls in One Body

Chapter 3

← Prev Chap. Masterlist. Next Chap →

× PLEASE CHOOSE A Route ×

> {The Abyss} <

{The Fatui}

× You have chosen the Abyss ×

Why does my entire body hurt-

I was falling from one of Liyue mountains, but here I'm standing!

I almost stumble down at the sudden realization

I slowly balance myself again as I slowly focus my vision to see things more clearly, I was really caught me off guard

Standing in fort of me is the Abyss Herald!

The Herald took notice of this

"Lord Bara, may I excuse my for it seems your other half is now conscious"

I just hear-

I hum, I can feel myself humming as a response to the Herald

"Then may you leave us be"

!!!!

"As you wish My Grace"

With that the Herald left. I'm was so confuse! My wound doesn't hurt that much but the pain still there.

Not only that, I was standing in fort of the Abyss Herald earlier and from what it looks like, he was talking to me, I also felt myself hum, move and talk but out of my own accord.

It like I'm-

'Possess?'

!!!

I just talked again! And it seems my body is moving on its own.

It seems it taken me in a luxurious room and lay me down on the bed

'It'll be easier to talk somewhere else'

Was the last thing I heard before blacking out.

I was slowly waking up and as I woke up, I was inside my bedroom in my bed

Does that mean-

"No. Your currently inside The Plane of Ethylene, our own Plane of Ethylene"

I turn my head towards where the sound came from and was surprise to see a complete replica of me

"Wha-?"

"Everything that happens was real.

I'm sorry, because I dragged you here unannounced, you suffered"

I wanted to be angry at them but somehow I can't bring myself to, it's like-

"Being angry at yourself?

Forgive me but I want to keep this short, so I'll explain everything.

After explaining everything then you can ask things"

It kinda reasonable so I agree.

They then proceeded to tell that I was save by The Bough Keeper and taken to the Abyss, how they made a truce for... My sake...

And that I was out for seven months, they almost lost hope but they're thankful I'm awake now.

"Any questions?"

"Who are you"

. . . . .

"You"

Wha-

"I am you but not you as (Y/n) (L/n).

You used to be me and I used to be you"

More questions just filled my mind, but it seems they can read my mind as they explain how we used to be one entity and got slip into two when outlanders trespass in Teyvat and try to took over our creation, our children, out throne

How we were out number, how betrayal took place, how lied easily took over most of the civilian of Teyvat.

They also explain how Khaenri'ah was of the few who know who truly own Teyvat and how they manage to salvage anything that is connected to us, how they took the title A Nation without a God, A Nation Ruled by Humans to keep their existence a mystery until I they find me.

They also explain the true reason why Khaenri'ah seem to be descriptive as a violent nation by the others... By the game lore.

"So the reason why Khaenri'ah was destroy was to discard our last believers, to finally and fully discard and erase our existence"

"That's right, but to the Heavenly Principals dismay, some Gods worship us and with that they force and created the Archon War. To killed off the other believers and to destroy Khaenri'ah

Two birds in one stone"

Well, that's mean the theories in my world where right.

How Celestial isn't all good and the Gnosis and Vision is like a security camera or something similar to watch and monitor them over.....

"But they couldn't fully discard us, so they create a puppet"

"A puppet?"

"Something similar to Kunikuzushi, the visions and gnosis isn't enough because they can't fully interact and interfere.

So they create a puppet and that Puppet is the reason why you were hunted down"

A new anger arises within me but it seems more stronger than any anger I have from my entire life

"You are not the only one who is anger by everything, I too feel utter hatred.

But you do not possess my devine present at first and the Puppet was here for quite some time than you"

Ah-

"Do not worry, I was building our strength for the past seven months.

We will reclaim what was ours and after reclaiming Teyvat, we will serves fair judgment and punishment to everyone"

. . .

"If you want we can begin our training I prepare for you before we take action.

So what do you say... Me?"

. . .

"Can I go home when everythings over?"

. . .

"Yes, but we have to create a new body in order for you to return home.

You can also come back here back-and-forth to your world after all of this-"

"I'll help you... other Me"

"Bara. Call me Bara"

"Alright Bara, let's do this."

. .

. . .

. . . .

. . . . .

'A million dreams will come to be, to come True'

#Two Souls in One Body #sagau #genshin impact #genshin self aware

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the-last-kenobi · 3 years

Note

*kciks down door* ReQuEsTs?!??! uh, 18. “Is it all right if I hug you?” with Obi-wan and character of your choice (please, this boy needs a hug so bad)

Hugs!!!! What an excellent ask.

Took me forever to pick a character though. I came this close to writing multiple hugs throughout the years but it would’ve been very long...

It’s still long. Whoops.

Note: I skipped the actual sentence and instead went for ✨vibes only✨

(From this various prompts list.)

Obi-Wan is twenty-three standard years old, very nearly twenty-four.

It is a delightful stage of life. (It’s awful.)

He’s growing in independence, so close to Knighthood he can almost taste it. (Is he? Nobody seems to have a clear opinion.)

He’s receiving more and more solo assignments, and on his missions with Master Jinn, the older Jedi makes an effort to at least await the Padawan’s input before making a decision, sometimes even deferring to Obi-Wan’s word. (Only in public, though, is there a sense of equality. Behind the scenes, Obi-Wan is still very much the learner.)

He longs to be free. (He doesn’t want to be alone.)

The confusing clash of thoughts and emotions is, in and of itself, a creator of more clashing emotions, all resulting in a bundle of self-doubt that crouches near his heart, like a greedy bird, picking away at his strength and certainty when he most needs it.

Doesn’t your doubt show you that you’re truly not ready? the pestering creature asks.

Doesn’t your longing for freedom prove you don’t deserve it? it says, tapping against the veins of ice and fear that lie right against the heat of his heart.

Doesn’t your need to be reassured tell you that you’re too hesitant, too weak to be alone?

His desire to fly is wrong. His desire to be sheltered, even more so.

Both together, coexisting in his heart and mind, could quite possibly mean the one thing he had been dreading for over a decade now, the thing older Jedi, real Jedi, had put into words and addressed to his face when he was only twelve, only eleven, only ten.

You are too emotional, they said.

You are overeager, they said.

You are not destined to be a Jedi, Qui-Gon had told him. I will not train you.

He had, in the end, and Obi-Wan has been wondering in the depths of his heart for all these years of it had not been a dreadful mistake. As much as the Force sings in his ears Jedi, Jedi, Jedi, endure, Jedi, Jedi, it felt like everything he touched, everything tangible, argues back failure, weak, selfish, foolish, unwanted, not fit.

Obi-Wan is twenty-three, almost twenty-four, and he is years into adulthood and light years away from proving that he’s capable of handling it.

When will he be Knighted?

Nobody seems to be expecting it from him.

Do they know, he wonders, have they known since the beginning that I am doomed to fail? Has this all been a gracious attempt, a thank you for my actions on Bandomeer, and they have drawn this out and out and out as long as they can?

How much longer can this go on?

Still, there are moments when he is at peace, when Obi-Wan is sure. When he meditates, when he accomplishes something new, when he walks away from an assignment feeling unashamed when he translates his memories into a tidy mission report.

When he has one of his long talks with Master Yoda, or Master Windu, who despite their revered status have taken to talking to him more like a friend than a child, outside of the Council chambers.

When he remembers the Force whispering inside, Jedi Jedi Jedi Jedi, endure, Jedi...

And then, on one of the missions assigned to both himself and his Master - still the overwhelming majority of his assignments - he and Qui-Gon are separated during a violent uprising.

There are bodies in the streets and buildings are aflame; children weep over the bodies of their parents and parents cradle the bodies of their children and scream as if the sound is their only companion left in the world. The standing government has a point, the rebellion has a point, the civilians caught in the crossfire don’t say which point they agree with because they’re too busy screaming and perishing, and Qui-Gon is simply gone.

Obi-Wan, faced with the threat of further bloodshed right here and right now even as the air is still clogged with ash and flame and as another body topples from a rooftop in front of his feet, raises his hand in surrender and calmly proposes a truce, offering himself as a legal hostage against the government that brought the Jedi here.

Obi-Wan is led away with his hands bound behind his back and his lightsaber taken away, and though his face is calm, the furrow between is brow speaks of his inner turmoil, which sounds like tapping against the cracks in his heart and Qui-Gon, where is Master Qui-Gon, I don’t know what I’m doing, if I fail more people will die, if I fail it will be my fault, is this taking charge or stepping aside, am I a leader or a victim?

He spends not days, not weeks, but three standard months as a hostage. He spends a terrible amount of time sitting in a cell and pondering his uselessness, the gravity of his foolishness, but every time someone opens the door and escorts him out to hold parley with the leaders of the rebellion and the ministry of the planet, he holds his head high, tempers his fear, and speaks to them with all he has.

Which is honesty. Humility.

You don’t know what to do, he says. Neither do I.

We all know we must do something. No matter how much blood you spill and how much earth you scorch you will eventually come back here to this table to have this same discussion until either both of you are broken beyond belief or one of you has been crushed, and half your planet’s voice stolen away. And you will have sacrificed two of the Republic’s Jedi along the way, a black mark against whichever victor is left standing.

Or, he says, we choose to pass over the violence and talk here and now, and choose this again and again and again. You have already had your fighting. Your people are already hoping for negotiation.

Are you here for their sakes or to kill them for show?

He does not use these exact words.

He sews them into his brief speeches, hammers in the point sharply when he must, weaves the common thread over and over again.

He knows they fight while he is locked away.

But he believes, from the growing respect in the eyes of these people who hold him both by his and against his will, that he is making a difference. He must be.

And Obi-Wan is twenty-three, very very nearly twenty-four, when he finally walks free to witness the signing of a treaty like this planet has never had before, to witness the formation of a new government, and he discovers not ashes and mass graves when he sees daylight for the first time in three months — but instead, a city and a planet marred only by scattered battlefields, and marked more clearly by the way its people have fought to keep it clean, to keep it safe.

Children race through the streets, unafraid, because they have had real shelter during the war. It has not entered their homes since that first terrible day.

Neighbors from opposing sides of this fight and friends who staked no claim in this war mingle freely. Their smiles are a little hesitant, but they are there.

The dead are all honored equally.

It is leaps and bounds, it is a civilization that propelled itself through years of struggle in three months, and Obi-Wan is awed by them.

He knows it cannot be this way everywhere.

He knows that there will be wars where no one wants to surrender, or where one side will be so certain of their point of view that they would rather raise hell than cease, and he knows there will be people who resist them.

But today it is real.

Obi-Wan looks at his pale and clammy hands, the marks around his wrists where he was so often bound, and feels the way his limbs shake from months of too little sunlight, not quite enough food, and more than his share of fear and doubt and self-recrimination.

As he smiles for a camera that will record this moment forever, he glimpses Qui-Gon amongst the crowd.

Someone explains to him, when he asks, that his Master had been injured during the uprising and spent the first three weeks of Obi-Wan’s captivity in convalescence. The remaining time, he has spent on the sidelines, forced there by his Padawan’s actions. With Obi-Wan a willing hostage, playing negotiator and leverage both, Qui-Gon had no role except to mingle with the people, offer them comfort and aid.

Something Obi-Wan knows his Master loved, but — he had still stolen his Master’s role.

He had thrown himself into a stupid, foolish situation, and how many times had Qui-Gon teased him about playing damsel in distress? And here he has gone and surrendered of his own accord. What would Qui-Gon have done if Obi-Wan had led them all to ruin?

Obi-Wan slowly loses his confidence, his relief, his silver tongue, as the press and the people recede, and he and his Master walk to a room that has been prepared for both of them, as honored guests by this new government.

Qui-Gon says nothing to him.

They walk in silence for twelve minutes.

And then, as soon as the door has shut behind them, Obi-Wan finds himself pulled into a fierce embrace, one of his Master’s hands buried in his hair, Qui-Gon’s chin resting atop his head.

Obi-Wan hesitates.

Does his Master think him a child?

Perhaps Qui-Gon senses his thoughts, because the man pulls away briefly, still holding his Padawan by the shoulders, as if unwilling to let him go completely, else he vanish like smoke.

“Padawan,” Qui-Gon says, and his voice is loud and strong and brimming with warmth that washes over Obi-Wan like sunlight, like water, like an embrace. “Well done, my Padawan.”

And then he is pulled again into Qui-Gon’s comforting arms, and Obi-Wan breathes in and gives in, folding against his teacher like a child, and if a few tears stain Qui-Gon’s robes or drop into Obi-Wan’s hair, neither of them speaks of it.

Obi-Wan lets his Master hold him, lets go of fear and pride and doubt, and finds that he is safe.

#star wars #my writing #star wars fic #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #qui gon and obi wan #master & padawan #padawan obi wan #look they are just a slightly repressed and off kilter #father and son #that is all #hugs #hugs!!!#more hugs needed #tw blood #tw death #tw bomb #tw war #tw child death

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winterwolf0916 · 3 years

Text

Quarrel

Jason Todd x Reader

Requested by anon: hi could you write to jason todd x reader that they fight but don't realize their baby is there? Thanks for the reply:) Warning: Language, mentions of divorce, angst, & fluff A/n: Goodness! This is a sweet request and oooo here comes the fluff! *throws a massive cloud* Forgive me with the writing mistakes here 🤧 wrote it at 4 am my dudes. Happy New Years my dears! Word count: 2.6K

You know Jason is strong. He really is. But there are moments, moments where he can be so reckless in patrol to the point where he could’ve lost his life. It happens so often that you promised yourself to be patient in this. Reminding yourself that he has his family, the Outlaws, and you to help him out in his missions. But last night made your patience snap like a thread. You were worried more than ever about his well being.

What if he doesn’t arrive in the morning?

What if he dies and leaves you and your son?

What if-

Countless and countless thoughts radiated in your mind causing your body to weigh as more and more doubts formed. The sight of him huffing and puffing as he entered his and your apartment bloodied and beaten. You knew you were going to say something. Anything. You were fine with it at first since the job came with this. But more nights like these compressed your patience like a boot on a bug.

‘He shouldn’t patrol alone’ you thought. You should go with him to make sure he’s being cautious. But you couldn’t. You needed to take care of your child.

After patching him up and laying in bed in silence back to back, you heard the springs of the bed cry as Jason left the mattress to retrieve something while hissing as if he’s trying to ignore the pain. After a few minutes, you gave up trying to sleep off your uncertainty and decided to talk to him. The conversation went from small suggestions and corrections into bickering and confusion.

You didn’t mean to overstep boundaries. He didn’t mean to make you worry. But how he hides his pain is what frustrates you. How he would joke about the bullet wound in his shoulder didn’t bother him when playing in the park with Y/c/n. How he would flinch when Y/c/n hugs him after a hard patrol.

“You know how dangerous it is to go downtown alone!” You raised your voice. “You could’ve died again!”

“But I didn’t! Why don’t you trust me?!”

It repeated like this, going back and forth, for a solid 15 minutes. But in the moment, it felt like hours. Yelling and spitting out words that are not even meant. Pointing who’s to blame, cutting each other off, and wanting your haunted opinions to be heard. Caught up in the heated situation that you didn’t realize your 10-year-old witnessing it all in the hallway in his pajamas.

What's going on here?

Why are they yelling?

Don’t they love each other anymore?

Are...are they getting a divorce?

He’s seen arguments here and there but it's a different level now. It’s bigger. The picture playing of anger and hatred boiling from his parents. His two favorite people in the world, showing distaste in one another.

As a child, he doesn’t know what’s going on other than the air filled with loathe by the source of his parents. As a child, he felt the need to hug his parents and ask them about the situation. As a child, he felt his eye sockets sting and his mind not functioning of what was happening in front of him.

-------

You were making lunch for your son trying to calm yourself from the argument that occurred hours ago. The fight didn’t go so well that you and Jason agreed to give one another space after he drops Y/c/n off at the bus stop.

Jason left the living room to wake up Y/c/n for breakfast, acting strong from the awful wounds he received this morning. What confused you was the sound of his footsteps quicken.

“Y/c/n?! This isn’t funny!” There was shuffling in the room before Jason returned to the kitchen. “He’s not in his room.”

You both searched the entire apartment from top to bottom before searching the entire building. Finding no trace of your son made you two imagine the worst. The worst-case scenario and the last thing you would ever expect. Y/c/n being kidnapped.

Quickly changing into your suits and heading to the roof to discuss who is going to check what part of Gotham, you found your son sitting at the edge of the rooftop, his back facing you. As his head turned towards the sound of the door barged open, your heart broke and Jason caught his breath at the sight of your child in tears.

“What the-” He quickly wiped his tears in shock, “Mr. Red Hood and Mrs. Y/H/N? Here on my apartment building?”

“Oh crap uh-Don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here.” Y/C/N added, using the hem of his sleeve to wipe his tears, trying to hide his released emotion and pushing down the temptation to fanboy in front of his favorite heroes. Not knowing, they are his parents behind the masks.

“Hey kid, why are you crying?” Jason asked, taking a couple steps forward while you followed.

“It’s really silly.” He sniffled, not wanting to look back. “My parents fought.”

You and Jason paused in your steps, not believing what came out of his mouth. ‘He saw us?’

“Oh…”

“I know! Pretty embarrassing to say this to you guys.”

“Oh no no! It’s not embarrassing at all.” You said.

“It’s ok to tell the truth. I really need it from Gotham’s second-best couple.”

“Hate to ask this, but who’s the first best couple?” Your husband asked. You nudged him, giving the ‘really?’ look.

“My parents of course.” You and Jason melted at the spot from hearing how much your son looked up to his parents’ relationship. “But I guess not, after last night.”

His face fell and lowered his head in defeat after mumbling the last sentence. You and Jason glanced in each other's direction silently making a truce and putting aside your differences before taking a seat next to Y/c/n.

“Is it normal for parents to fight really hard? Please tell me. You guys are my number one from now on.”

“Honey, people argue every day. It helps us to grow as a person and learn about our partner’s troubles and what's important to them...”

“Even if it’s little things or big things or the harsh words we said, it doesn’t matter. We still love each other. We just step on the wrong foot sometimes.”

“Tell me about it, I remember bucket head over here accidentally left the sink on in our apartment. And guess what happened?”

“What?” Your son’s eyes were filled with curiosity while Jason cringed at the memory.

“It flooded our entire kitchen and I scolded him for an hour before he cleaned everything.”

“How long did it take Mr. Red hood to clean everything?”

“Two hours.” Y/c/n snorted but immediately became serious when he remembered who’s the other vigilante sitting right next to him.

“In my defense, I had to fight off Ra's Al Ghul for two weeks straight.”

“And?”

“Aaand, I wasn’t at total fault here.”

“It would’ve been better to not even open the sink at all!”

“I was tired, woman!” Then you heard your own son snickering before letting out a burst of warm laughter. The kind of laughter that made you smile while Jason gave a smirk.

“Wow-uh thanks. You guys really sound like my parents.” Jason opened his mouth to say something before you heard a hiss of a vehicle and the rumble of the engine fading in the distance.

“THE BUS!” You screamed as you jumped and ran towards the corner of the edge, the vehicle traveling away.

Your son’s face went pale at the sight of his transportation turning a corner before disappearing the block. Mostly afraid of his parents giving him a lecture for missing the bus rather than attending class.

“Oh shit.”

“Language.” Jason stated and pinched Y/C/N’s cheek as punishment for adding another curse word to the jar.

“Well! It was great knowing you guys! Ah, I would really love an autograph. Especially from you Y/H/N.”

“Me?”

“My dad has a fat crush on you, but don’t tell him that. He says it’s a secret between us men.” Surprised by the news, you glanced at your husband who then avoided your gaze and set his focus on a far off building, pretending he didn’t hear a thing.

Oh, he’s never going to hear the end of this from you. Your son quickly snatched his backpack that was resting by him and sprinted towards the door. As he opened the door to the stairs and was about to leave, he was lifted from the floor by his backpack, his legs still swinging as if he was running.

“Whoa there.” Jason placed your son down to his feet before gesturing between you two. “Why don’t we drop you off?”

“Really!?” Y/C/N’s eyes glittered with excitement that he’s going to receive the experience of traveling like a vigilante until a realization dawned on the boy. “But wait...I need my parent’s permission for that.”

“Don’t worry. All of the parents in Gotham trust us with their kids.”

“Wait really? You sure they won’t mind?”

“Crystal.”

“Yes! Ah, we gotta hurry. My bus might be a little far from here now.”

“Who said anything about taking you to the bus?”

-----

You and Jason were more than positive to never patrol in broad daylight unless it was an emergency. There are two reasons why. One, anyone can track you easily. Villains and crooks in Gotham don’t rest. Not only that, they have henchmen and machines that can detect vigilante activity which means a higher rate of danger to kidnap or take those who you interact with as hostage.

Two, the nosy journalists trying to snap a picture and give an odd headline to the Gotham press. It wasn’t anything new. This happens occasionally without the masks. So the Batfamily wasn’t bothered much by it. But it is rather important to not make the headline. Depending on what is put, it would falter the trust and hope that civilians have in the heroes of Gotham. Also, they would interview those who interacted with the vigilantes therefore more problems would complicate.

That’s when you both gave a conclusion of dropping off your son in an alleyway close by the school. As he was placed down from you, with wobbly legs and hair out of place, it took a load for you from fixing Y/c/n. But as a mother, you couldn’t help it. You bend down to his level and fix his hair and his shirt in place.

“There. All better.” You smiled at your bewildered son before pulling him in for a tight hug. “Have a great day, baby.”

“You really act like my mom,” you pull away from him, “she’s always picky that I would look nice for school.” You resisted the urge to pinch his cheek from that comment.

“I am not picky.” You stated with a serious tone and face.

“You are.” You heard your husband say.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Not.”

“Are too.”

“You’re not helping, Red.” You motioned at your son who is internally debating to join the small argument or leave it between the two of you since you remind him so much of his parents.

Your husband glanced at your son before winking at him, motioning that his wife is definitely picky. Y/c/n snickered before going silent as your focus landed on him.

“Ok, Y/c/n. Time for you to go to school.” Jason pats Y/c/n’s shoulder

“But...But I don’t want to go.” He wrapped his arms around yours and Jason's legs.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to face my parents when school is over. I’m really scared. What if they want to split up?”

“That won’t happen.” Jason’s tone was serious now.

“How do you know?” It was now Jason’s turn to crouch down to Y/c/n’s level, similar to what Y/c/n’s dad does.

“I’ll say this fast because you need to leave but if I were your dad, I would be an as-” You cleared your throat indicating to Jason to watch his vocabulary, “-idiot to even divorce your mom. Let alone to think of it. I love your mother so much to the point where I would still love her if she’d turn me into a frog. I would rather die again than to lose my family.”

“Wait, you died before-”

“Ah bap bap. Let me finish.” Y/c/n pouted.

“No fair.” Jason smiled under the helmet.

“I would also lose my precious kid. My partner in crime and a part of me. Even though we fought, big-time, I’d still love you and your mom. Relationships aren’t perfect. And neither are families. They’re rough around the edges but they’re still a part of us and we have our roles in them. And for your parents’ roles, they won’t split. I can assure that.”

There it goes again. Y/c/n’s eyes expressing his emotion. He wasn’t sad at all. More as if he’s relieved and content for someone to tell him that all is well. Y/c/n immediately wrapped his arms around his father’s neck and hugged the living hell out of him. Jason didn’t hesitate to hug back his son. As the two parted, your husband stood back up in his usual height.

“Now, get in there. You don’t want your teachers waiting.” Jason ruffled your son’s hair before Y/c/n left out of the alley and stepped on the school grounds.

As Y/c/n looked over his shoulder, he found the couple on a building waving him goodbye. He did the same and disappeared into the building.

-----

The two of you returned to the apartment. It was silent for the most part since the you both agreed to ‘get some air’ when you found Y/c/n. But none of that occurred when you helped Jason inside through the fire escape. He was slowly stripping from his suit and placing his pajamas on with caution. Another hiss from him caused you to place your mask down and help him pull down his shirt.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.” It took you a second to process the meaning of the words. Did he apologize? Wait- He apologized?

“...What?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll talk with Bruce about patrol and-”

“No, I should be the one who’s sorry… You… You always worked alone and risked yourself to get missions done. I should’ve trusted you more that you can defend yourself and come home safely. It was my fault.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m just afraid. Afraid...That you’ll die and leave me and Y/c/n alone. Like how you passed away and left your family and I when we were in high school.” His eyes widened at your confession. “I know! I shouldn’t even worry because you’re so much stronger now. But damn you. Damn you, whenever you come home ripping my soul from my body by how you suffer from your injuries. I know we have schedules for patrolling and taking care of Y/c/n but I’ll stop complaining and overreacting-”

You didn’t expect yourself to be in his arms, his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck, and your fired up spirit to be calmed by listening to the soothing beating of his heart. What a day.

“I think we have enough stress for one morning.”

“...Agreed.”

“I’ll talk with Bruce about patrols. In the meantime… let’s get some rest before Y/c/n comes back from school.”

“Alright…” Jason pulled away and was going to lead you to your shared bedroom before you stopped him. “I also have something else to say.”

“That is?”

“Well...more like an important question.”

“Ok?”

"How long have you had a crush on me?”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #Red Hood X y/n #red hood x you #red hood x reader #first time writing a big fic #4am my dudes #WHOO #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc x reader #batfam x reader #batfam x you #jason todd imagine #batboys x reader #batboys x y/n #batboys x you

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