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unfinishedsweetsimphony · 3 years

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celebration

[requested by anon ‘m’]

~Tommyinnit x Reader (Gender Neutral) x Tubbo ~ !PLATONIC!

Summary: They were the ultimate trio, the Three Musketeers (as they were fondly nicknamed) consisted of Tommy, Tubbo and (Y/N). Soon Tubbo and (Y/N)’s birthday was coming up, so Tommy came up with the brilliant idea of throwing a joint Minecraft birthday party. After which, fun and hilarity ensues.

Genre: Fluffy friendship with friends being pals.

Pronouns: They/them (Gender neutral)

Warnings: Cursing and a bunch of capitalized words to add v o l u m e. I mean c’mon. Tommyinnit is in this story.

[a/n: wOHOO!! Another request :DD I really like this prompt idea since it’s been a while since I’ve written a friendship fic. This is loosely based on what I could remember from Tubbo’s birthday live with my own twist on things. This is also more of a reader insert than an x reader]

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TUBBO!!”, (Y/N) practically yelled into the mic. Looking at the facecam, Tubbo frantically throws off his headphones and lets out a scream. When he calmed down from his fright, he puts his headphones back on and scooches his chair back into place. “THANK YOU (Y/N)!!”, he yelled back in matching fervor, “HAPPY ADVANCE BIRTHDAY TO YOU TOO!” (Y/N) flinches and pulls their mic even closer for maximum earrape, “THANKS TUBBSTER!” “WHY ARE WE YELLING?!”, screamed Tommy; making himself known. “I DON’T KNOW WHY ARE YOU YELLING?!”, Tubbo’s voice is starting to get hoarse. “I dunno I just wanted to feel included.”, Tommy’s sudden shift in tone caused (Y/N) to burst into laughter.

They take a moment to greet their respective streams. “So Tommy, you have gathered us here on the magnificent Dream SMP. What’s on the agenda for today?”, (Y/N) says in their best posh accent. “Well that was terrible, but anyway”, Tommy moves his Minecraft player while he speaks, “Today, we are going to be celebrating the BIRTH of my two best friends. So, come on, follow me. We got lots to do.” Tubbo happily follows Tommy while (Y/N) whoops in excitement and quickly checks chat, “No chat, this isn’t canon...I think.”

The first thing they did was make a TNT canon by the shore, which took some time. However with Fundy and Sam’s help, they were able to finally get it work. “HOLY SHIT!”, Tommy exclaims as his character gets absolutely launched into the air. Tubbo gleefully chimes as he sets the device up for another launch, “It really goes get you flying doesn’t it?” (Y/N) lets out a ‘Weee~’ as they land into the water, “I know that this is literally virtual, but this is actually kinda fun.”

When they were done, Tommy says that it’s time to move on to the next activity. “C’mon (Y/N), Tommy is gonna go on without us!”, Tubbo urged as (Y/N) launches themselves with a cow on a lead for the fifth time...only for it to die upon impact for the fifth time. “Goddamit, it keeps hitting the shore!”, (Y/N) finally calls it quits and they both sprint to catch up with Tommy.

Tommy leads them to a trapdoor that leads them to an underground railway. They grab their minecarts and head off. Along the way, the halls are decorated with funny edits and memes of Tubbo and (Y/N). “Oh god (Y/N)innit is so cursed.”, Tubbo laughed at the huge picture of a blonde (Y/N) in Tommy’s iconic shirt while (Y/N) snickers and plays Paralyzer by Finger Eleven to match the image. “Oh my god I almost forgot about that one.”, Tommy points out a picture of Tubbo photoshopped as a snail. “EY ITS TURBO!!”, (Y/N) realizes and absolutely loses it.

Farther down the long mine cart ride are normal photos of times where the trio meet up causing the three to calm down and reminisce those memories. The chat absolutely melts at the soft atmosphere filling up the comments with ‘Aww’s and hearts. The occasional copy pasta ruining the mood.

Upon reaching their destination, they all hop out of their carts and meet a dark oak door. “Okay, I want you guys to close you eyes.”, Tommy’s character steps in front of them. “In real life?”, (Y/N) asked. “How are we going to see?”,Tubbo questioned the obvious. “Yes, just put your finger on the forward key and I’ll guide you. Now, no peeking alright?”, Tommy crouched as the two gave confirmation that their eyes are closed. Tommy opens the door and quickly goes in first to check if the surprise is ready. He quickly types in chat to join the voice chat they were in, “Okay, go forward and I’ll tell you when to stop.” Miraculously, there were no mishaps in getting them through the door. Their characters walked until they reached a wall of the dark room. “Stop!”, Tommy instructed, “Wait (Y/N) you can go forward a little more.” (Y/N) complied until Tommy told them to stop again.

“Alright you can open your eyes.”, Tommy flipped a lever causing the lights to turn on.

A chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’s rang in Tubbo and (Y/N) ‘s ears as they looked around, mouths agape. “Oh my god, this is awesome!”, Tubbo’s character jumps around happily while his head spins around. (Y/N) bursts out laughing at the banner saying “Happy ‘Coming out of your mother’ Day” to the point of wheezing their lungs out. “Thank you for noticing my banner (Y/N).”, Big Q notices before turning to a disappointed BadBoyHalo, “I told you they would like it.”

The rest of the day was spent enjoying Minecraft cake, passing presents virtually even some just gifting subs and donations. It was a fun party with friends...until Technoblade joined the game.

#blood for the blood god :)#im sorry this took so long #im watching quackity's stream while doing these tags lmao #jackbox with quackity has so much flavor #tommyinnit #tubbo #reader insert #tommyinnit fanfic #tubbo fanfic #platonic #dream smp #mcyt #mcyt fanfiction

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mandy23bwrites · 3 years

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Dance?

Happy (belated, at this point) birthday Ilse!

Please enjoy this self indulgent piece. I just love her so much.

Fandom: Attack on Titan (Junior High)

Character/Pairing: Ilse Langnar x Reader

Tags/Warnings: “Prom” proposal, gender neutral reader

Disclaimer: This is best understood if you’re familiar with Ilse in Attack on Titan: Junior High.

Word Count: 977

Summary: Ilse publishes her riskiest article yet, where she asks her best friend and crush to the school dance.

Read on AO3

Ilse clutched that day's copy of the school newspaper to her chest, eyes darting from side to side. She was nervous. She had published plenty of risky pieces in the past but this one was the riskiest yet.

At first glance, it was simply an article about the upcoming school dance. But a keen eye would notice that every first letter of the first word on each new line in the article was capitalized, spelling out a hidden message. She peeked down at the paper, just to remind herself of what she had done. Yep, still there.

Those capital letters could make or break her relationship with you. She had met you during your first years in the newspaper club and since then, she’d been falling for you a little more every day. You were a strong editor and a stronger friend, pushing her writing to new heights while always having her back. You both had spent long hours pouring over spreads and coming up with new articles, with her writing and you editing while occasionally lending her your photography skills.

But this was one article she had kept secret, because as your friendship grew, so did her crush. And everyone knew that the best way to tell your crush you liked them was to ask them to the dance.

It was a huge risk; if you rejected her proposal, she might be out of an editor and best friend. But if you accepted… well, it was that hope that urged her towards homeroom.

But her pace faltered when she spied some students who already had copies of today’s paper. She had planned on giving you a copy before the rest were distributed; what if you had already seen it - or worse, what if someone asked you about it and ruined the surprise?!

It was enough to make her break into a sprint, not caring if the hall monitor yelled at her.

It was only outside of homeroom that she truly second-guessed herself. But there’s no taking it back now: not with the paper published and her stumbling into the classroom, catching everyone’s attention.

There you sat, in the second row, watching her. You had paused while taking your pencil case out of your backpack to witness her dramatic entrance and slowly placed it on your desk, never taking your eyes off her.

Ilse gulped and stiffly made her way over to you, painfully aware that all eyes in the room were trained on her. You had no newspaper on your desk so you must have opted to forgo one today, which at least reassured her that you hadn’t read it yourself yet.

The concern painted all over your face is a familiar sight for her, as she’s reminded of all the lectures you’ve given her about being safe while investigating. It’s another reason she liked you so much: you looked out for her.

As if on cue, your mouth opened, no doubt to ask if she’s okay, but Ilse spoke first.

“I need your opinion on the new article I wrote,” she blurted, as she shoved the newspaper at you. Concern melted into confusion as you took the paper from her.

“O-okay.” You murmured, glancing between her and the newspaper.

You scanned the title and saw what seemed to be a short article about the upcoming school dance. Glancing down at the text, it seemed to address the who, what, when, and where.

Honestly, you had felt a little hurt, finding out that Ilse hadn’t told you about an article she had written; it was the reason you hadn’t gotten a paper today. You’d never tell her but you saved every article she wrote. But now seeing what it was, you could understand why she wouldn’t need to run something so simple by you to edit. In fact, you’re not sure why Ilse seems insistent on you reading this. But then you see it.

Down the text of the article is a column of capitalized letters, and reading them top to bottom spells your name and the word ‘d-a-n-c-e,’ complete with a question mark since she concluded the article with a perfectly formatted: “send any / ?’s to the student council.”

Your eyes widened as the meaning settled in: Ilse was asking you to the school dance. No wonder she was acting so strange. You couldn’t help but stare at the letters descending the page. It was finally happening!

You met her eyes and she looked awfully pale as she waited for your answer.

“Ilse, I-” You’re cut off as your teacher swooped into the room.

“Sorry I’m late, everyone, please take your seats and let’s get started!”

Ilse ducked her head and took her seat next to yours, stomach twisting in knots. She ruined everything - she just knew it. All you had done was stared at it in shock. She didn’t know what to say to you now, other than apologize profusely and beg you to forget what she’d done.

As she numbly pulled her supplies out of her bag, she saw you digging around in your pencil case from the corner of her eye. Pulling out a marker, you then scribbled something onto the newspaper.

Ilse opened her book as the newspaper was deposited onto her desk. She couldn’t bear to look at you as her eyes slowly drifted down the page. But instead of a sad “no, I’m sorry”, she found a big, bold “YES!” Now it’s her turn to stare in shock. Could it be…?

There’s a splitting grin across your face when Ilse finally looks over at you, and she could feel a matching one begin to spread across her own. Neither of you were focusing on the lecture, too busy sending each other giddy sideways glances.

Maybe an apology was unnecessary after all. Maybe… it was time to go dress shopping!

#ilse langnar #ilse langnar x reader

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justkindaoverhereobsessing · 4 years

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you stumble, you soar (2/3)

What if Tony and Ziva had just a little more time in Paris during Jet Lag? Part one can be read here and the song from the last scene of this part can be found here.

_____________________

CW/TW: non-graphic mentions of torture

This chapter is a love letter to the capital of France and to the push-and-pull of conflicting fluff and angst that we all love so much about Tiva! Again, super happy birthday to @why-did-you-just-lie-to-mcgee and huge thanks to @indestinatus for plotting this with me!

_____________________

“Paris is a place in which we can forget ourselves, reinvent, expunge the dead weight of our past.”

— Michael Simkin

_____________________

The bed they’re sharing is a large one, and though they went to sleep on opposite sides of it, the rising sun in the morning finds them curled together.

As always, Ziva wakes first; she realizes immediately that something feels… off. She takes quick stock of her body and realizes that her head is pillowed on Tony’s chest; his arms are slung snugly around her back, and their legs are tangled together. She can feel his heartbeat under her cheek, slow and strong, and she finds herself rather unwilling to leave this spot of unexpected comfort. There’s no reason it should be, but it feels… nice.

She realizes quite suddenly that this is the first time she’s been held by someone—truly held, at peace and content—since her time in Somalia.

The thought makes her feel a little sick, horrible memories cheapening the moment, and she pulls away hastily, trying to be gentle and avoid waking Tony. Luckily, he’s a fairly heavy sleeper, and she succeeds.

By the time Tony opens his eyes, Ziva is dressed and ready for the day, and he seems none the wiser about the way they spent the night. “Are you going to sleep all day, or would you like to see Paris?” Ziva teases.

“Leave me alone, woman, I was having a great dream. I was dreaming about this lady…” Ziva turns away so he won’t see her expression. She thinks it’s entirely possible that his dream stemmed from the scent of her hair or the feel of her skin as she slept against him.

“Hurry and get ready. We have things to do,” she says instead of acknowledging what he said.

_____________________

Ziva has a definite plan in mind for the bulk of the day, but Tony almost immediately steers her away from where she’s leading him. “What are you doing?” she demands, surprised enough that she follows him for a moment automatically before realizing what she’s doing and stopping.

“We’re in Paris, Ziva. We can’t just walk everywhere. That would be absurd!”

“We were going to ride on the Metro,” she corrects him, an eyebrow raised quizzically, “but why do I imagine you have a different idea?”

He certainly does.

Twenty minutes later, they’re climbing on the Vespa that Tony insisted on renting. “Are you certain that you know how to drive a scooter?” Ziva asks with a small amount of trepidation. She has little time to die in a Tony-induced accident today.

“Of course! It can’t be that hard!”

“That does not reassure me. You understand, yes, that the rules of the road are different here than in Washington?”

“I’m not stupid, Ziva.” Tony turns around to frown at her, but his eyes are alight with hidden laughter. “And honestly, are you really going to talk to me about road safety? How many times have I almost died with you behind the wheel?”

“I am an excellent driver!” Ziva insists indignantly, but she’s speaking to the back of his head because he’s already turned back around. “It is the other drivers who—AHHH!” She interrupts herself with a yell because Tony has—with zero warning—revved the engine and sent them speeding out onto the road.

“I thought you said you knew how to drive this thing!” Ziva yells over the sudden wind in her ears and Tony’s triumphant, wordless shout.

“I do!”

He definitely does not.

_____________________

Their first stop is one of Ziva’s favorite Parisian cafes, Café de Flore in the Latin Quarter. As they are seated and start to look over the menu, Ziva briefly explains the restaurant’s history. “This is a place that many tourists love, but that is for good reason. It is one of Paris’ oldest cafes, and it has been frequented by some of the greatest creative minds of the twentieth century. Ernest Hemingway, Pablo Picasso, Robert Desnos, Raymond Queneau… the list goes on.”

“And now we’re here.” Tony glances around; the morning light shining through the panes of glass bounces off the crisps white shirts of waiters as they bustle past. He’s never felt so French; the atmosphere of the cafe demands the feeling.

“Yes, we are.”

“What’s good here?” Tony wants to know, his eyes excitedly scanning the simple black-and-white text of the menu.

“You must try the hot chocolate, if nothing else. I know your sweet mouth will appreciate it.”

“Sweet tooth.”

“Yes, that.”

“Alright, I will.”

What follows is a delicious culinary adventure through several types of pastries, all split between them until they can’t eat another bite. They sit in sated silence for a few minutes after they finish their food and hot chocolate, bellies full and happy as they stare contentedly at crumbs dusting the green table top. “Damn. Parisians really know how to do pastries, don’t they?” Tony says eventually, a vaguely dreamy expression on his face.

“They certainly do,” Ziva agrees completely. “We have more things to see, however. Shall we?”

“We shall.” Tony rises to his feet with a light groan, patting his stomach to emphasize its fullness before offering Ziva his hand in a surprisingly chivalrous move.

Ziva accepts, her heart skipping one tiny beat. (She reminds herself once again that he is her work partner, not a romantic interest—they’ve nearly been down this road enough times that she knows better than to imagine otherwise.)

_____________________

After another mildly terrifying Vespa ride, Tony and Ziva burn off all the calories they just consumed by climbing to the top of the Arc de Triomphe. There, slightly out of breath, they get a birds’ eye view of the timeless city and all its charms.

Observing the yellow-white walls of buildings that have seen centuries of history, neatly arranged down streets and boulevards lined with the fresh green of trees blooming for spring, Tony thinks quite suddenly that there’s no one he would rather share this with. He glances at Ziva—she’s looking away from him, down at the traffic circle that’s too far below to hear its chaos. Her profile is as beautiful as the city he’s falling in love with, and it occurs to him that he came very close to losing her not even half a year ago.

He’s never been so glad for something not happening, and he’d go back to that desert and risk death or worse dozens of times more if it meant he could relive this moment with her again and again, here among the birds and the buttery sunlight and the city that stretches on forever.

He slides his hand into hers. Though she doesn’t look at him or acknowledge the move, she threads her fingers through his.

Eventually, Ziva lifts her other hand to point. “The Eiffel Tower is that way, as you can see. I thought we would go there next. It is about two kilometers away.”

“No.”

Now, she does look at him. “No? Tony, a trip to Paris is not complete without visiting its most famous landmark.”

“I know.” He doesn’t say more, though, and after a moment, Ziva dismisses whatever he isn’t saying with a shrug.

“Alright. To the Musée d’Orsay, then?”

“To the Musée d’Orsay.”

_____________________

They spend close to two hours meandering through the d’Orsay, both particularly enjoying the Monet collection. There’s something undeniably romantic about whispering to one another as they observe pastel water and floral scenes, feeling lost in the paintings and the history and the almost intangible sensation of being at home in this magnificent place.

The whole time, they’re hand in hand, and neither mentions it.

Then they have lunch at Le Galliera. Tony makes Ziva giggle almost helplessly as he tries his damnedest to order for them both in terrible French; the waiter is less than impressed, but Tony more or less gets his point across.

Considering this is still technically a work trip, they shouldn’t order a bottle of wine and then another one, but they do. A meal with wine is the greatest Parisian inevitability; it turns out to be one of the best meals either has had in ages.

Following lunch, they go to the last stop that Ziva has planned for the day, the Louvre.

Tony finds himself far more impressed with the delicate architecture of the Louvre than with its most famous inhabitant—the surprisingly small Mona Lisa—but he finds that he immensely enjoys other parts of the museum.

There are tourists everywhere, milling about the more well-known exhibits, and it’s a good thing that Ziva dedicated their whole afternoon to exploring… it’s an enormous building with too many exhibits to keep track of. At first, Ziva aims to show Tony the can’t-miss art pieces: the Winged Victory of Samothrace, the Venus de Milo, Liberty Leading the People… but then their tour becomes aimless.

Much like their visit to the Musee d’Orsay, they find themselves just walking, enjoying the art and one another’s company.

Then they stumble across the room that turns out to be Tony’s favorite of all: the Napoleon exhibit.

Here, there are no tourists. They’re alone with the art and the history, free to speak as loudly or quietly as they would like, or to not speak at all; the space feels almost like a church, old and sanctified and echoey and welcoming. Like a church, it brings on the urge for confession.

Tony coughs suddenly, twenty minutes into their Napoleon exploration, and the noise makes Ziva startle... something Tony has rarely if ever seen her do.

He hasn’t spent this much time with her since Somalia, though.

“Are you alright?” he asks, uncharacteristically gentle.

“Yes, of course I am.” Ziva turns to him in surprise. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re jumpy. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“You would be, too, if you spent every moment waiting for your nightmares to reappear,” she answers, her honesty surprising both of them.

“Are you talking about—”

“What do you think I am talking about, Tony?”

That stops him short. He’s often wondered what exactly happened to her in Africa, because she has never told him. He hates himself for wondering so much, though, for fearfully imagining, but he can’t suppress the gut feeling that she needs to get at least some of it out before she loses herself to the memories… as much as he doesn’t want to hear it.

“What happened over there, Ziva?”

“You do not want to know, and I do not want to say.”

“That’s not true,” he argues softly, following her as she stalks away from him, deeper into the museum. “I think you want to talk about it. I think you need to.”

“And when did you complete your psychology degree?” Ziva snaps, looking determinedly away from him; at least she has stopped walking.

“I don’t know psychology, you’re right, but I know you.”

“Do you?” Ziva demands, turning suddenly to face him with fire in her eyes. “Do you know me? Does anyone? Can you possibly know what is left of me, Tony? Because I do not even know myself anymore!”

That breaks Tony’s heart, and he swallows. “Yes. If there’s one goddamn thing I’m sure of, it’s that I know you, even if you aren’t so sure.”

“Think what you would like! You have never stopped forming your own opinions anyway, whether you had any information at all or not! Stop trying to get me to—”

“I’m just trying to look out for you! That’s all! I know you went through hell, alright? I know that! I’m not demanding all the details, and I’m not asking out of morbid curiosity or whatever! I’m trying to keep you from collapsing in on yourself, Ziva!”

“Stop. Pushing.” Her voice is at once quiet and deadly serious.

Not sure if it’s the right thing to do, Tony does stop.

_____________________

They reach an unspoken truce as they finish touring the museum, but neither is paying much attention to the exhibits anymore. Too worn out from both their active day and their suppressed emotions to search out a distant dinner spot, they decide to simply dine at one of the on-site restaurants, Le Café Marly.

They’re both subdued throughout the meal, and it seems to Tony that Ziva is constantly on the verge of saying something. Every time she looks like she’s about to speak, however, she bites her tongue and goes back to her plate.

Eventually, Tony cautiously decides to prompt her one more time—he doesn’t want his head bitten off, but he can’t let her stew like this without giving it another try. “Something on your mind?” he asks lightly.

“I…”

“Something about Somalia?” he hazards.

This time, rather than getting angry, Ziva just looks… tired. Sad. Maybe a little broken. “Yes.”

“Something you need to get off your chest?”

“I… I can’t, I...” The grief that wasn’t strong enough to break through her anger earlier comes suddenly now, and Ziva ducks her head, staring at the fingers of her twisting and worrying hands in her lap as tears start to gather in her eyes. “I am fine,” she insists, though Tony hasn’t said anything, “and you should not have asked me in public.”

“Oh, Ziva… I’m so sorry.” Tony sounds exhausted, too, and pained. He’s not apologizing for asking, Ziva’s sure. He’s hurting for her and what she went through, she knows, and though she loves him for it, it doesn’t make her own pain any easier.

She’s just going to have to feel this. She has been, little by little, but somehow it hurts more now, thinking of talking about it with someone who would go to the ends of the earth for her.

He lets her sit for a moment, tears falling silently to her lap from a curiously expressionless face, until he can’t take it anymore. Then he reaches over and takes her hand. “Do you want to talk about it? Because you don’t have to, but… no offense, Ziva, but I don’t think you would have entertained this conversation at all if you didn’t.”

“No,” she snaps, hating how congested her voice sounds, but then she relents. “I do not know. Maybe.”

“Then let’s maybe get out of here.” Without looking at him, Ziva can hear the small smile in his voice.

He may be an ass, and he may be obnoxious, but he may also be the best friend she’s ever had.

He signals for the waiter to bring their bill, and before long, they’re headed out into the cool spring air. Ziva heads for Tony’s stupid rented Vespa, assuming they’re heading back to their hotel, but he doesn’t follow her. She looks back questionably, glad her tears have dried up for now, but he’s standing back, shaking his head. “It’s our only real night in Paris,” he reminds her. “Let’s go see the sights.”

“What have we been doing all day, if not seeing the sights?” Ziva wants to know. “Tony, I am tired.”

Tony tilts his head to one side. “Come on, I know my badass ninja assassin partner has at least a little more in her, doesn’t she? Humor me, Ziva.”

He looks so earnest that she’s tricked into nodding yes, intrigued as always by the occasional vulnerable side of him that sometimes makes its way out. “Alright—for a little while,” she amends.

“That’s the spirit! Come on, David. Let’s go see the City of Lights by night.”

She can’t help but laugh when he drapes an arm ever-so-lightly around her shoulders. “You are in quite a mood tonight,” she observes, walking willingly toward wherever he’s headed.

“Yeah, well, somebody has to be, right?” he replies pragmatically, squeezing her shoulders.

For some inexplicable reason, the gesture warms her in a way her coat does not.

“Where are you dragging me?” She suspects she already knows, but him leading the way—and walking, no less, the Vespa still parked on a curb near the restaurant—is an unexpected change of pace.

“Really, Ziva, if you have to ask, you’re not half as smart as I give you credit for. Where does any first time tourist in Paris go? Where did we not go already?”

“The Eiffel Tower?” Ziva surmises.

“The one and only,” Tony agrees.

“It is not the only one,” Ziva counters, just to be argumentative. She loves verbally sparring with him, even if she won’t admit it, and the familiarity of the bickering is soothing.

“Where are there others?”

“Do not tell me you have never been to Las Vegas.”

“I have, but—oh. You mean the tiny one.”

Ziva laughs; it’s a little stilted, but it’s genuine. Tony now seems content to let her decide when or if she wants to talk about more serious things, and she appreciates it. “It is not quite as impressive, but the design is the same, I suppose.”

“Well, you may not be easy to please, but I thought it was cool. Anyway, this is why I didn’t want to see the Tower earlier. I hear it lights up at night and that’s got to be the best way to see it, right?”

“Right,” she agrees.

They fall into companionable silence, focusing on the long walk at hand. The sun has long since set, and the energy of the city has subtly changed in a way that few other cities ever do. They become anonymous, just another two Parisians strolling toward Saturday night plans, nameless and faceless among the city lights and the beautiful spring evening.

It’s comforting.

Before Ziva is even aware of what she’s doing, she starts to talk. To his credit, Tony doesn’t say a single word; he just holds onto her and lets her talk.

There’s little emotion in Ziva’s voice as she describes being tortured. It’s factual, like someone reading from a textbook; she has removed herself from her memories to the best of her ability. There’s more feeling, however, as she speaks of losing hope, hope she barely had in the first place. She tells him about wanting to give up, about not being allowed to, about wishing for death and receiving rescue instead.

She talks until the Tower is in sight, and when she’s done, she falls silent.

Tony’s only response is to drop the longest, most heartfelt kiss to the top of her head. Ziva’s glad; somehow, any response he could have uttered out loud would have felt… cheap.

Inexplicably, some of the horrible weight on her tired soul disappears.

_____________________

They stay silent when they reach the Tower; even Ziva, who has seen this sight many times, is struck dumb by the lights as they sparkle across the entire magnificent structure. She feels small, insignificant, like her problems are small and insignificant, too.

The thought brings tears back to her eyes, and she’s just about to voice the idea when Tony nudges her. “Listen,” he murmurs.

She stops and does so, focusing in on a sound that her analytical mind had already tuned out as unimportant. It’s the sound of a violin and a piano mixing sweetly together. Ten meters away, two street performers stand alone and ignored, softly playing Chopin’s Nocturne in C Sharp Minor.

Now that she’s paying attention to it, Ziva’s a little mesmerized, and she’s startled slightly when Tony takes her hand again. “Let’s dance,” he says, the little smile on his face so hopeful that she can’t say no.

Tony uses her hand to draw her closer and rests his other hand on her waist, sighing slightly when her second hand lands on his shoulder. Neither says another word, but they start to rotate and move side to side to the haunting melody; their eyes are locked together, and Tony thinks it might be the most intimate moment he’s ever shared with anyone.

He doesn’t mind at all.

As the song progresses, their bodies get closer and closer together, and the brightness of the Tour’s display illuminates their faces like candlelight. Somehow, Ziva finds her eyes fluttering shut and her head leaning down to rest on Tony’s shoulder. Maybe it’s an illusion, and maybe the pain will come back tomorrow, but here, and now… she feels at once light of soul and cherished of heart.

The last note of the song dies slowly away into the night air, but Tony and Ziva don’t notice, continuing to sway.

#ncis fanfiction #ncis #tiva #tony dinozzo #ziva david #cynthia writes stuff too #here's part 2 tiz!#happy birthday!#here's some angst and some fluff #the smut will be in part 3 #also as requested please observe that there's a piano XD #anyway i tried my hardest to include all of your favorite places that you told me ages ago!#i love youuuuu happy happy happy birthday!#thanks again sof!

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unboundbnha · 4 years

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hoooo my god. this is for ME

for me. for godzilla. :’)

➤ rules; make headcanons of you and a character of your choice, be it sfw or nsfw.

Thank you so much for tagging me @spicyness! I’m gonna SKAJHDSKJ. HHHHH. This is everything? Fuck I just want a purple boyfriend 😫 this will be about Shinsou because I like him a normal amount :-)

First off, I’m a pain in the ass. My sense of humor is wack (it’s basically just ‘annoy my friends and loved ones’), I’m always fricken TANKING The Mood (because it’s funny and I physically cannot resist making a Funny if the opportunity’s there), everything turns into a game unless you make me stop wink wonk. Shinsou seems like the type to snort in amusement and roll his eyes at my dumb antics, and I appreciate that! If I could make him legit laugh I’d die happy. (I am also emotionally savvy enough to know when to draw the line though, don’t worry. It’s just, man, my idea of fun is ‘LET’S ROAST ‘EM’)

I love cats. I’ll lose my whole mind over them. They NEED head kisses. Shinsou also likes cats. He also needs head kisses. That’s it, that’s the bullet point

Being open and honest and genuine is important to me. I believe most any relationship (friendship or otherwise) can work if you’re willing to communicate and empathize with the other person: I would 100% be willing to hear Shinsou’s shit, and he seems like he’d be a good listener too. I’m also good at logicking things through and he seems like he’d appreciate that. Likewise, he seems like he’d do the same for me, and as long as we stayed humble and weren’t looking to be offended (I don’t Do That -- he’s a Cancer -- love you, Cancers -- so it might take him a minute to get on the same page, but he’s emotionally smort and cares about me so I think he’d be willing to work at it) then we could help each other through emotionally hard stuff with hard truths. Plus, I’m a super honest person: if he was in a relationship with me he’d probably be pretty secure in knowing I wouldn’t hurt him on purpose. If past shit comes up with him, I’ll talk to him. Talking’s the good shit, y’all: utilize patience and empathy and you’ll be so well off!

I also battle, with a big fucking sword, a lot with mental health stuff (LMAOOOO WHO DON’T!!! YEET). I used to struggle with agoraphobia and still deal with anxiety and depression. On top of that, I have something like chronic fatigue -- I’ve been calling it chronic fatigue because I’m fucking tired, all the time. My top energy levels are like a 35% on a fantastic day. I really like the idea of this boye seeing me melting into a puddle, face down on the carpet, and bein like “how’s it going down there? you okay?” and the answer being obviously no, but him just like. Man I dunno. He seems like the kind of person who’s tired, but who can live with it. I can’t! When I’m tired, that’s it babes! I hit a 0% on my battery and I’ll collapse! So I just, hhhh. Don’t laugh, but I like to fantasize about him bundling me up and into bed. Thinkin’ about Birthday Snoot by my good friend @lord-explosion-baku and melting, okay?? OKAY???? I’m soft, the truth’s OUT, FUCK! I want to be taken care of like a sad but pampered cat.

(Please read Birthday Snoot I still cry over it)

Also I’m gross and struggle to shower often enough because it’s exhausting so bein given a gentle bath? oh MAN. Hands softly running through my stupid, terrible hair...asking me about my day and if anything happened that triggered me feeling this bad...just....the tenderness....the gentle affection.....being loved even when I’m at my lowest. Being cared for when I can’t do it myself. That’s a legit fantasy y’all. We out here!

I love to SNOOZE. I love being COZY. You bet your sweet bippy I’m gonna sprawl over a couch and take up the whole thing. Shinsou’d better be willing to snuggle the fuck up. I’ve got great squish which I personally feel like’s great for cuddling: I’m like warm taffy. How better to gently seep into every crevasse of your Favorite Person while enjoying a cozy cuddle?

Listen, everyone fucks hard with Shinsou calling his S/O ‘kitten’, and I agree (def have written leetle -- HOO -- leetle scenarios with that nickname because wow) but I get all wibbly with the idea of He calling me ‘Angel’. A joke at first because, like, guys, I’m really nice. (I know it sounds bad when people say they’re nice and LSDFLKJDF I AM, OKAY. I’ve worked on it. Cultivated the skill of kindness! Being kind isn’t easy, and sometimes you just wanna go apeshit, but I’ve worked hard to improve upon myself! Yeet!) But I also just really fucking love being annoying. I simply cannot resist the urge to sneak up behind someone and poke them in the ribs. I rib-poke while in the deep depths of making out too, I’ve tanked the mood a lot so picture my dumb ass Pink Panther’ing behind Shinsou, prepared to be Evil while he’s, idk, making breakfast or something, and before I can commit a Rib Crime he uses his hero training and fast reflexes and honed senses and all that good stuff to snatch my wrist and ask “what’re you up to, angel?” the answer is nothing, because he’s killed me by being sexy and fast and hero-y, and he’s probably actually killed me by startling me into collapsing like a fainting goat

He gets the deep stuff. Unfortunately for everyone and especially myself, I’m a Thinker with a capital T: it never fucking stops. I had an existential crisis for like three years in a row because of course, but I feel like he knows what it’s like to get lost in your head. Working each other out of panic attacks because holy jesus the universe sure is fucking huge huh? We’re not even a blip on the radar in the history of existence and we’re gonna be dead basically tomorrow aaaand that’s why we’d be good for each other, because I feel like we both have coping mechanisms that keep us from spiraling too bad, and we could share them with each other.

I also so fucking admire his drive, but it makes me angry that stupid fucking hero society would discriminate in the first place.

Oh, yeah, that’s another good point: I’m hella mad about 98% of the time and I work hard to hide it! Because innocent people don’t deserve to get yelled at! I feel like Shinsou’s smart enough to sense when I’m about to pop and he can be like “heyyyyy...you wanna talk this out constructively instead of getting into a public brawl?” and I’ll be like “NO but I’ll do it for you because I love you” and then we get pizza.

Because I’m fine and balanced and stuff, I made a quirk for myself if I was in the BNHA-verse, and basically I can get stronger at the expense of higher thinking skills and will turn into a weapon of mass destruction against whatever I’m pointing at (ugh, that’s so sexy. Fuck I wanna be a big spooky buff as shit monster thing), friend or foe, so Shinsou and I would work well in tandem because if I got too rowdy he could use his quirk and get me to calm down! Keep me from accidentally doing a murder! Nice!

Okay this is nsfw so if you’re under 18 DON’T READ IT. I’LL CALL YOUR PARENTS. GET OFF MY BLOG.

Relating to the point above, QUIRKPLAY. Mind control me into stuff I want to do but am too awkward to ask for, please and THANK you. Also, Shinsou’s a top. Gotta be, and thank god for it because I’m certainly not. I’m not happy about being a fucking bottom, because my first and most powerful personalty trait is ‘be as annoying as possible to the people you like; don’t let them tell you what to do.’ Can’t make it easy on myself, nope. Anyway, I want the appearance of being a top without the responsibility because damn, gotta be like, suave and shit. Gotta plan stuff. I don’t like that! I do that enough in real life and I don’t like it there, either! But whatever. I’m a brat and I feel betrayed by my coochie for it. But Shinsou’s a top and he’d tease me for being Fucking Terrible, and suddenly I wouldn’t be so mad at my coochie. She has her reasons.

I...like Shinsou for a lot of reasons, but a really big one, for sure, is that I feel like he can communicate about the important stuff. He likes to tease, but he knows when to be serious too. I’m really wack about being close and intimate with people and I have, hhh, special requirements to be able to sleep with them, and I feel like he’d both be able to respect AND honor that. Like, run through the rest of the BNHA boys with me here: would Bakugou be able to be completely cool, calm, and collected while still teasing, but knowing where to draw the line? Todoroki’s closer maybe, but he’s not as people-smart (which is also a big thing for me). Confidence (or at least the appearance of it when it’s important), respect, communication, listening and respecting what I ask for even if it seems wack -- Shinsou has that, and god is it attractive.

Also, mind control.

Also, his capture weapon.

Also you know this motherfucker is kinky as shit. Thank the good lord.

Also, sexy-slow makeouts with his long, nimble hands running up my outer thighs to squeeze my waist -- teeth on neck, stolen gasps of breath --

\\\\\\

I feel bad because all of this, fuckin, WALL of text is pretty much ‘this is what purble boy can do for me’ and I don’t say a lot I’d do for him, but if I got someone like him I’d go to the end of the earth for them. I may be a perpetually-sleepy bitch, but one of my best -- and worst -- character traits is my unwavering loyalty. I’ll be 110% down to kick anyone’s ass who insults him: he can fight his own battles, but he shouldn’t have to over some dumbass with a big mouth and a little brain. Making him smile and laugh, oof, be still my beating heart. Words of encouragement when life gets too much. Genuine thanks for his help, whatever it may be. Hugs, because we’re both touch-starved as fuck and he deserves gentleness, dammit. He doesn’t seem like his love language is receiving gifts -- more like quality time and words of affirmation? Maybe physical touch? -- but I’d still get him little things that made me think of him, that could help him in his day to day life or maybe just bring a smile to his face. We could rescue each other at social conventions, have dates to the humane society and play with cats. Support each other through our depression days, prove that even having a brain that’s mean to you sometimes doesn’t make you unlovable. Man, idk. The whole thing’s soft and makes my heart go doki-doki. Hitoshi Shinsou is an extremely good person and god damn I’d want to show him I appreciated him and existing at the same time as him. He deserves love and kindness. He deserves someone to kiss every knuckle of his hand. He deserves hugs in the kitchen and blankets being pulled over his shoulders when he falls asleep at the desk. He deserves only good things, and I’d be honored to give them to him.

HHHHH.

Okay! If you made it to the end of this, congratulations! You don’t actually get anything, but boy oh boy you have a lot of information about ME now! Aren’t you delighted? Heh. So! You tag people for this stuff, and I’m gonna tag @lord-explosion-baku, @bnhascribbles, @perpetual-bed-head, @russianonion, @weebsinstash, and last but certainly not least, @usernamekate94. Tell me about Monoma, Kate. Tell me.

#god this is a mess. anyway #I just! he's a good boy brent!!!! ;_;#self ship meme #author x character #I would feel embarrassed if I possessed the ability to feel embarrassed #I'm weak for one (1) man: so WHAT if he's fictional #I can daydream about giving him the hugs he deserves!!! AND I WILL

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pieman1112 · 5 years

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It was Rebecca and Spartan’s birthday and Chrom was so excited to celebrate this day with them. He did his best to make sure to clear this day from any work related appointment and minimize them to any citizen inquiry, who usually come to either file a complaint or ask for an advice, so Chrom can’t simply send away any Ylissean who came asking for help. However, he left some matters in Robin and Frederick’s capable hands to prepare for his wife and father’s birthday.

Since Rebecca is the Queen, all Ylisse is practically celebrating her birthday on their own. Streets are decorated with flowers and all sort of eye catching decorations. Music is heard almost everywhere and people are hustling and bustling to get into the castle to either deliver gifts for the queen or congratulate her.

Some time have passed and Chrom was free to resume his celebration with his family. He felt somewhat sad that he had to leave the morning rather early (so he can weasel out earlier from work shh.)

Now that he is free, the preparation to celebrate Rebecca and Spartan’s birthday with everyone then he has a special surprise for his own wife. The shepherds were happy to help with the birthday party preparation while Rebecca was busy welcoming and thanking the citizens who came to greet her. Hunter was, intentionally handed baby Lucina to busy himself with her so everyone can try their best to make a surprise party. True that seeing the whole nation celebrates the day defies the whole surprise party thing but hey, the thought what counts.

Chrom made his round to the kitchen, to the courtyard (making sure to avoid Rebecca and Spartan if they were around) and the last stop was the hall where the party is held. Everything looks perfect, now to wait for the two birthday people to come in. The plan was for the maids to escort Rebecca here with Spartan and after a while, a maid came in to tell that the two are soon coming and everyone prepared to welcome them.

Once rebecca and spartan walked in, everyone shouted loudly Happy Birthday and clapped, cheering happily for them. Some shepherds handed gifts, some food, etc. Chrom walked towards them after everyone had finished congratulating them (and probably busy now to eat the food which is decorating the tables.)

“Hey…” he paced towards Rebecca, gently taking her hand and giving it a soft kiss to her knuckles. “Happy birthday, Becca. Heh, another hectic year, Still not regretting marrying me? Haha–d-don’t punch me, heh…Thank you for another wonderful year…thank you for being with me all the way. To years to come…together.” a step closer and he reached to kiss her (earning some cheers from the others.) His free hand slid through her golden locks to fix a beautiful white hair pin contrasting the gold hair color of Rebecca and it has three blue gems decorating it, each bearing the ylissean brand.

He tilted his head to check if he did that just right and surprisingly it actually fit. He patted himself mentally. amused of his one try, Rebecca traced the gift with her hand before leaning for another kiss (perhaps deeper than the first one and again causing more cheering and whistling from the others) “I, uh take that you like it..heh.” a warm smile tugging his lips.

In his peripheral vision, he noticed Spartan carrying Lucina. The girl was giggling and telling her grandfather that her mommy looks pretty with that hair thingy and Spartan agreed. “Hunter…” Chrom glanced back at Rebecca, eyes signaling that he will be back with her shortly and she nodded, giggling before pushing him lightly towards Spartan. “Uh, happy birthday. Lucina go play with Owain, yeah?” Lucina nodded and jumped but before she kissed Spartan’s cheek and went to find Owain and the others. “So, um,” there was a brief silence because he was trying to arrange his thoughts. There was something he wanted to say but decided to change the subject that’s why he opened his mouth then shook his head then resumed “thank you for coming back. I know it was a hard thing but I really do appreciate it.” hands clasped together, rubbing them nervously. “*sigh* Look, what I’m trying to say here is that, er…Thank you for bringing Rebecca in my life. Thank you for being my…father. So, what do you say another hunting contest this new year? Haha! You will go easy on me? Alright, alright. We’ll see who will go easy on who.” there was a moment of subtle hesitation before chrom decided to step closer and hug Spartan. It was not like the other would mind, it’s chrom’s mind going cold feet at times. Even though now he have known Spartan for years, he still wants to make sure he does not do one of his impulsive habits and make the other uncomfortable. Spartan kindly rubbed Chrom’s back and patted it and told him that yes, he’s proud of what he made so far if that was he was actually wanted to ask about. Chrom froze for a second but buried his head into the other’s shoulder for a minute then nodded. Was he really that easy to read? or it’s just spartan is good at reading people? either way, Chrom thanked him again and told him to enjoy here because he is going to take Rebecca for the entire night. Spartan smiled and nodded to him.

Back to his wife who was talking to some friends, he excused to pull her away from them. “Sorry but you are mine this evening. Have I told you that each year you get even beautiful? Aren’t I lucky?” a low chuckle followed up. “Nope. I’m not telling you what we are going to do or it won’t be a surprise, wouldn’t it? Let’s get out of here first,” he held her hand and guided her outside. Now that they are in the court-yard, he signaled for the soldiers to bring Argent here. The white steed quickly marched towards them neighing happily, one could assume he is happy for Rebecca too looking at how he was headbutting her gently and rubbing his muzzle to her head. “Heh, okay, boy, she got it. Thank you, Argent.” He got on the horse and reached his hand for Rebecca to climb behind him. “Hold tight because apparently I would not be able to control him now that he is …extra happy.” there was a comical moment where Argent just blasted off leaving chrom to yell his name over and over to get him to calm down. This was supposed to be a stroll but they have already cut some of the distance thanks to Argent being excited.

“I want to show you something,” he said without glancing behind him.

They have left the capital and now making their way to a high hill where he stopped Argent and climbed down with rebecca. “Now, look…” he pointed to the capital and surprisingly now that the sky is nothing but pitch black, only the starts and the light of the moonlight apparent, the Capital’s lights are twinkling in the distance before they started to glow even brighter by the minute. He did not say anything to let that scene sink in before he pointed again to the castle direction. “Keep your eyes over there…..and soon…” after a couple of minutes something glowed and flew to the sky then boom! it exploded! “Yeah!” Chrom cheered happily then looked at Rebecca. “You said these are called fireworks in your realm so..Ricken tried to make something but with magic! What do you think? clever right? he’s a smart boy. Ah, ah, wait for it! Look!” he urged her again to look at the sky when Ricken launched another magic firework but this time something formed in the sky that reads….HAPPY BIRTHDAY REBECCA AND SPARTAN in ylissean letters.

“So, I wanted you to see this from here because, um I wanted to make this special for us–our memory together, our bond. Rebecca…Happy Birthday…and…I love you.”

@convxction

Birthday 2019 for Rebecca and Spartan-197!

It was the first year Rebecca and her father would have their birthday not in the UNSC. It was also the first year Rebecca would have her birthday as queen. All her life she would have really quiet birthdays with just her father and a few friends. To have a large gathering of so many people wanting to wish her happy birthday, it was a culture shock to say the least. She had gotten up early that morning to look off the balcony of her room.

The town had placed out so many decorations to celebrate the queen’s birthday. Rebecca felt honored but also a little embarrassed. Still she had to prepare for the day. Part of this day was to greet the citizens so they could offer their wishes to her. She got dressed in her favorite gown and walked out to the throne room while being guided by some maids. She took a seat and soon people started to come in. It was honestly a little overwhelming.

Many different people came to wish her a happy birthday. There were farmers who offered some produce, merchants who offered fine items from far distances, and some royals who wanted to gain favor with the queen. Rebecca accepted all the presents graciously and smiled as more came to wish her well on her birthday. The Spartan was with Rebecca but acting more as a bodyguard. He watched to see if anyone would hurt his daughter.

As the line of people died down and they went back to their own celebrations, Spartan-197 went to go check on young Lucina. Something was wrong however. Most of the staff was acting suspicious and when he approached a certain area one would redirect him away. Chrom was also no where to be found. He would have to keep an eye out but for now his granddaughter needed his attention.

Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief as the last person left the throne room. There were so many people. She joked with one of the butlers about how many people were there. Soon a maid got her attention and she followed. They looked for her father and were able to find him. He was playing around with young Lucina. The Spartan left with Lucina in his arms and the three walked to the hall with the maid. They walked in to hear a surprise being yelled out by all the shepherds.

The two watched as Chrom approached them. Rebecca’s bright smile was plastered on her face as she saw her husband. 197 suddenly put together why everyone was acting suspicious. As Chrom grabbed her hand, Rebecca moved it up so it was easier for him to access. She giggled a little at the kiss on his knuckle.

“Every year is a wonderful year with you dear.” She said as she leaned into his kiss. She felt his hand comb through her hair and soon felt something clip in. Her hand moved to trace what Chrom had put into her hair. She felt the hair clip and the three jewels that adjourned it. She moved closer to Chrom and pulled him into a deep kiss.

“I love it baby.” Rebecca said.

The Spartan looked at Lucina as she giggled and commented about her mother’s new hair piece.

“You’re right. It does look nice on your mother.” he said.

Soon Chrom approached as Rebecca went to talk to the other Shepherds. He listened as Chrom wished him a happy birthday and thanked him for being here with Rebecca. They joked about another hunting competition in the new year but then Chrom seemed to hesitate as he came closer. The Spartan knew what he was trying to do and walked closer to hug his son in law. The two separated and 197 knew that Chrom and Rebecca were going to spend the rest of the night together so he went to talk to the other Shepherds.

Rebecca was talking to Sumia, Olivia, Vaike and Virion when Chrom approached and grabbed Rebecca’s hand. She waved bye to the others as Chrom lead her away.

“You say it every year. And every year I never get tired of hearing it.” She said.

He wouldn’t tell her where they were going and only mentioned that it was a surprise. She followed until they waited for Argent. Chrom’s horse seemed happy to see Rebecca and she was happy to see him. She began to pet his muzzle until Chrom was ready to ride. When Argent began to bolt, Rebecca gave a surprised yelp and wrapped her arms around Chrom’s waist to give her something to hold on to.

Upon arriving to their destination, Rebecca looked over to the ledge where she could see the city and the night sky. It was a beautiful sight. One, a person on any UEG world wouldn’t be able to see. She looked in the direction that Chrom was pointing to and soon saw the fireworks. She was amazed at the sight. The only other time she saw fireworks was back on Earth when she was younger.

“Chrom. These fireworks are amazing!” She said excitedly.

Then came the final one with the happy birthday message. She looked over to her husband.

“This was the best birthday ever Chrom. I love everything that you have done and I love you too.” She said has she pulled him in for an even deeper kiss.

#thanks for the submission!#submission

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bountyofbeads · 5 years

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Gunman posted online minutes before killing 3 at festival

https://apnews.com/35e45f6d09e347c4a1c51c52cf77725c

Gunman posted online minutes before killing 3 at festival (Yet again, another racist destroys a family event and ruins lives.) #EnoughIsEnough

By KATHLEEN RONAYNE and JULIE WATSON | Published July 30, 2019 | AP | Posted July 30, 2019 9:35 AM ET|

GILROY, Calif. (AP) — Before a 19-year-old gunman opened fire on a famed garlic festival in his California hometown, he urged his Instagram followers to read a 19th century book popular with white supremacists on extremist websites, but his motives for killing two children and another young man were still a mystery Monday.

Santino William Legan posted the caption about the book "Might is Right," which claims race determines behavior. It appeared with a photo of Smokey the Bear in front of a "fire danger" sign and also complained about overcrowding towns and paving open space to make room for "hordes" of Latinos and Silicon Valley whites.

In his last Instagram post Sunday, Legan sent a photo from the Gilroy Garlic Festival. Minutes later, he shot into the crowd with an AK-47 style weapon, killing a 6-year-old boy, a 13-year-old girl and a man in his mid-20s .

Under it, he wrote: "Ayyy garlic festival time" and "Come get wasted on overpriced" items. Legan's since-deleted Instagram account says he is Italian and Iranian.

The postings are among the first details that have emerged about Legan since authorities say he appeared to fire at random, sending people running and diving under tables. Police patrolling the event responded within a minute and killed Legan as he turned the weapon on them.

The gunman legally purchased the semi-automatic assault rifle this month in Nevada, where his last address is listed. He would have been barred from buying it in California, which restricts firearms purchases to people over 21. In Nevada, the age limit is 18.

Hundreds of people came out Monday night for a candlight vigil in front of City Hall in honor of those killed and injured.

"We cannot let the bastard that did this tear us down," Mayor Roland Velasco declared to cheers.

Legan grew up less than a mile from the park where the city known as the "Garlic Capital of the World" has held its three-day festival for four decades, attracting more than 100,000 people with music, food booths and cooking classes.

Authorities were looking for clues, including on social media, as to what caused the son of a prominent local family to go on a rampage. His father was a competitive runner and coach, a brother was an accomplished young boxer and his grandfather had been a supervisor in Santa Clara County.

Police said they don't know if people were targeted, but at this point, it appears he shot indiscriminately. Twelve people were injured.

Police searched Legan's vehicle and the two-story Legan family home, leaving with paper bags. Authorities also searched an apartment they believed Legan used this month in remote northern Nevada. Officials didn't say what they found.

Big Mikes Gun and Ammo, which appears to be a home-based internet gun shop in Fallon, Nevada, said on its Facebook page that Legan ordered the rifle off its website and "was acting happy and showed no reasons for concern" when the store owner met him. The post said it was "heartbroken this could ever happen."

In California, police had training in how to respond to an active shooter. While they prepared for the worst, they never expected to use those skills in Gilroy, a city of about 50,000 about 80 miles (176 kilometers) southeast of San Francisco known for the pungent smell of its prize flowering crop grown in the surrounding fields — garlic.

The city had security in place for one of the largest food fairs in the U.S. It required people to pass through metal detectors and have their bags searched. Police, paramedics and firefighters were stationed throughout the festival.

But Legan didn't go through the front entrance. He cut through a fence bordering a parking lot next to a creek, Gilroy Police Chief Scot Smithee said. Some witnesses reported a second suspect, and authorities were trying to determine if he had any help.

Police arrested a 20-year-old man who claimed involvement online, but investigators determined he was just trying to get attention.

The police chief praised officers for stopping Legan with handguns without injuring anyone else.

"It could've gotten so much worse, so fast," Smithee said.

The gunfire sent people in sunhats and flip-flops running away screaming. Some dove for cover under the decorated food booth tables. Others crawled under a concert stage, where a band had started playing its last song.

The youngest victim, Stephen Romero, described by his grandmother as a kind, happy and playful kid, had just celebrated his sixth birthday in June at Legoland in Southern California.

"My son had his whole life to live and he was only 6," his father, Alberto Romero, told San Francisco Bay Area news station KNTV after the shooting.

Also killed was 13-year-old Keyla Salazar from San Jose, seen dressed in pink, wearing a tiara of flowers and smiling as she poses with relatives in photos posted on her aunt's Facebook page.

"I have no words to describe this pain I'm feeling," Katiuska Pimentel Vargas wrote.

The oldest victim killed was Trevor Irby, 27, a biology major who graduated in 2017 from Keuka College in upstate New York.

The wounded were taken to multiple hospitals, and their conditions ranged from fair to critical, with some undergoing surgery.

Troy Towner said his sister, Wendy Towner, was at the festival for her business, the Honey Ladies, when she saw a man with a gun climb over the fence. She yelled at him: "No, you can't do that!"

The gunman shot her in the leg and her husband three times, while a young girl dragged their 3-year-old son under a table, Towner wrote on a fundraising page he set up for his sister.

Legan then approached the couple as they lay motionless on the ground and asked if they were all right. They didn't move, fearing he would finish them off, Towner wrote.

Towner said his sister underwent surgery and was expected to have long-term nerve damage, while her husband faces many surgeries.

Candice Marquez, who works for Wendy Towner and her husband, Francisco, told The Associated Press that she had stepped away to go to the bathroom and saw the gunman heading to their tent. She said her 10-year-old niece helped the toddler to safety.

"She was brave," Marquez said.

Jan Dickson, a neighbor who lives across the street from the Legan family, described them as "a nice, normal family." She said Santino Legan had not lived there for at least a year.

"How do you cope with this? They have to deal with the fact that their son did this terrible thing and that he died," Dickson said.

___

Watson reported from San Diego. Associated Press reporter Mike Balsamo in Washington, Natalie Rice in Los Angeles, Scott Sonner in Hawthorne, Nevada, Ken Ritter in Las Vegas, and Martha Mendoza in Gilroy contributed to this report.

#u.s. news #politics #trump administration #politics and government #us: news #white house #president donald trump #legal issues #national security #racism #world news #hate groups #hate crimes #criminal justice #domestic terrorism #white supermacists #gun violence #gun control

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wannawrite · 7 years

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One With Water

who?: Wanna One’s Lee Daehwi genre: 🌸 type: bullet point TW: drowning

blog navigator.

mermaid! AU

the type of merman Daehwi would be

dnsjskdsn

my knowledge of mermaids is until Barbie movies so I’m sorry if this is awful. I did my research though! Thank you for requesting this, anon 💓

- Admin L

Lee Daehwi, the youngest in his family and the second youngest among the mermaids he lives with

they stay in an underwater city called King’s Cliff

because it’s near the rocky side of the beach

it’s a very pretty city, filled with multi-coloured corals and all sorts of ocean life

just imagine your city but underwater

kept safe with a magical wall that protects the mermaids and erases all trace of them

so that common folk will never know about them

interesting right?

only gifted mermaids are allowed to keep the shells and link up with other gifted mermaids to maintain the safety

for example: if you have the blue shell, you must find the mermaid with the yellow shell and then find the mermaid with the green shell etc

then, the 11 will gather in the Royal Hall once a month with their shells, set them in a bowl, spin them, connect them with the other shells and that maintains the protective wall

pst, Daehwi owns the purple shell

anyway

Daehwi LOVES his fellow ocean-dwelling creatures

he plays hide and seek with them frequently

he is a bit hard to find since he is one of the smaller and swifter mermen, and his purple tail blends in very well with his surroundings

Daehwi is that merman that is constantly surrounded by wildlife

a school of fish follow him around a lo

Jinyoung swears he’s cheating on him with a baby sea lion

even sharks and stingrays are attracted to him

just lives off happiness and joy and treasures everything

a vegan mermaid

but almost all the mermaids stick to a strictly plant-based diet

Daehwi prefers to keep in his safety zone, his house in King’s Cliff, in the coral walls of the city

he isn’t like his mermen brothers Daniel, Woojin and Sungwoon, who love to adventure out of the capital and bring back new finds every time

be it a treasure chest

a new species of crab

pieces of wood from a shipwreck dating from hundreds of years ago

he isn’t really about that life but he will join in once in a while

I forgot to mention that only upper-class to royal blooded mermaids live in King’s Cliff

Lee Daehwi is heir to billions, he’s borderline royalty

he’s also a Shell Keeper of King’s Cliff, this boy is something

of course, he isn’t Prince Jisung of Pearl View City but he’s close

his parents own a chain of reputable department stores

a HUGE influence

but Daehwi isn’t really interested in business, he doesn’t even plan to major in it

no worries, he knows his brothers will take over the business

he wants to be a marine biologist

another thing Daehwi wants to do...

he wants to visit the human world

you know how mermaids are often written about in children’s books and fairytales? in their universe, it’s the same for humans

he knows some mermaids from other cities that have the ability to transform into humans and a couple of days

‘it’s very interesting up there, a gorgeous city. Of course, the sun is much stronger,’ Jaehwan tells him

but Jaehwan doesn’t use his abilities very much

since he matured, he also gained responsibilities

such as caring for the grey shell and learning from his parents how to spin it properly

one day, Daehwi has to abandon all of his hobbies and focus on that

:”)

since Daehwi likes the thought of the human world, he goes to the surface a lot

to observe

to protect himself, he always hides behind this huge rock formation

it’s interesting and amazing to see a world so close to the sky and so close to the sea at once

he loves observing the area

in particular, he adores watching surfing competitions

every year, there’s a huge national tournament held in that side of the sea

every year, he props himself up behind the rock early in the morning till late at night to watch

you are the best surfer in that zone

not to brag but you did conquer Nationals for three years in a row

no offence but your academy and coach have sent you overseas to compete

each time, you only bring back Golds or the occasional Silver

everyone knows who you are and you pretty much rule that beach

you started to surf because your parents owned a surfboard store along the beach and a couple more inland

most of your life was spent on sand, playing with waves and fantasising about mermaids

then, your dad gifted a surfboard to you for your 7th birthday and that’s where everything happened

now, a decade or so later, you’re easily one of the best surfers in the east zone

there’s no way you’re going to miss Nationals this year, especially when it’s held in your front yard

other than surfing, you love hanging out in your swimsuit all day

so that any time that you felt like it, you could go explore the beach, cliffs or take a dip in the water

by now, you’ve explored most of the beach, you know of all the nooks and crannies

except for maybe...the crown shaped cliff

it’s not that you don’t want to adventure there, your parents ward you off a lot

it’s dangerous, one missed step and you fall into a bed of rocks to certain death

so you just admire it from afar

the crown cliff really allures you

mainly because legend has it that a mermaid was spotted there for a brief second

you loved to listen to tales like those, like it I could ride on waves in a foam board then why can’t mermaids exist?

the older folk always described the incident vividly, a young boy, purple hair and tail, gleaming brown eyes that bore into their own before he vanished in a second

no one really believes it

but you still kind of do

every day when you’re practising, you feel like you’re being watched

but not in a creepy, paedophile way

in a sense, there seems to be someone looking out for you, other than your friends on shore

but you never found out who, or what

Daehwi always makes sure to get a five-minute head start

if you chase after him, he would disappear behind the curtain of King’s Cliff and all memory of him would be erased

he was never worried

he did fret about you when you did a particularly painful trick and plopped into the ocean

Daehwi watches surfers practice all the time, every day, at any hour

but he can’t help but feel some attachment to you

other than the fact your performances are always the most enthralling and enjoyable

he longs to do tricks like that too

and you’re the best at them

anyway, it’s the first of three days of Nationals

adrenaline pumped, excitement overflowing

everyone wants the crown

but you know whose head it’s going to be put on

yours

nerves eat at your side but you try to push them away and focus on the competition itself

• this year, there are a lot of killer rookies, all competing for your crown

you know they aren’t nothing

but neither are you

sunglasses?

check

sunscreen?

check

a bottle of something his mother made for him so that he wouldn’t dehydrate?

check

Daehwi out here sipping his tea, sunglasses on, watching the surfers prepare to battle

he has his eye on you since the start

he knows that this year would probably be one of the last Nationals he would be able to watch

sadly

it’s bittersweet

he has to fulfil his duties of a Shell Keeper

but he wants time to entertain this too

THAT mermaid who is kind of obsessed with humans and human sea sports

Daehwi knows that he should treasure his limited time on the surface

he’s really doing a lot not to get caught

finally, the heat starts

one by one, other regional winners line up for their turn

Daehwi watches and gaps in amazement when you start off with a sharp bang

heading straight for that small wave and executing a perfect roundhouse cutback

loud cheers resound throughout the beach and he feels the urge to cheer you on

he’s certain you finished both heats with a perfect 20

you just have one more left

‘ohh, this will be interesting. the waves have gotten a lot more stirred up and there could be a chance for___ to finally perfect the tube ride!’ the spectator announces, hyping up the crowd

you’ve done it too many times to count

but never succeed in a heat

the first attempt was four years ago, and that was a total flop, causing you to settle for Bronze

embarrassing

you’re still #1 in Daehwi’s eyes

like c’mon, he’s so whipped

you just started swimming towards the wave and Daehwi is already impressed

you know how his mouth falls open a little and his brows furrow and he just jams

yes

‘OOHHH LOOKS LIKE THERE REALLY WILL BE A CHANCE THAT WE’LL WITNESS A TUBE RIDE’

pressure

you bit your bottom lip, analysing the wave and the chances you’ll make it through the tube ride

alive

‘it’s been years,___is practically a legend in this industry, a very well-established surfer, but, never once have we seen a complete tube ride from them’

pressure

you need to make a decision

Daehwi is on the edge of his seat - rock - nerves are biting at him

he pushes himself off his comfortable spot and closer to the waves

‘LOOKS LIKE THEY’RE REALLY GOING FOR IT!’

it’s a steady start, balancing well, you make your way towards the daunting wave that’s about to swallow you up, literally

it curves around you, forming a cover, causing a little claustrophobia

suck it up

breathe oh my goodness you got this

but it’s already happening, the opening at the end is shrinking, if you’re not quick enough, this wave will wash over you and eat you up

you will for your board to speed up

‘DO YOU THINK ___WILL MAKE IT OUT OF THIS TUBE?’

your heart says yes

but the oceans say no

the wave rains on you, you’re eaten alive

water fills your lungs, throat burning. the pressure is immense, everything is crushing you alive

you thrash about, mind blank, trying to yell for help

it may not look like much from shore

but you feel yourself sink into the very depths of the ocean floor

the beating of your heart slows, maybe stops

you don’t know

at least you’re having a brilliant dream

a dashing merman with purple hair and a striking lilac tail rescued you, he has refined features, his eyelids folding unevenly but you smile because it’s cute

‘stay with me! don’t close your eyes! I know, I know it hurts!’

he’s desperately performing CPR on you

intellectual

‘come on! I can’t let you die!’

the rock cuts into your back but you don’t feel anything as you’re too busy coughing out water

the merman uses his powers to heal your cut wounds, luckily, they seal up like nothing ever happened

he smiles at you

then you don’t recall anymore, maybe you fainted or something

it’s a good dream to have, perhaps it’s your last one

but, you wake up in a hospital bed, oxygen mask, IV drip and all

when your family arrives, they explain that everyone thought you were dead for a good 6 hours

your board was wrecked, Nationals was paused, the worst was expected

then, a search party found you washed up on the beach near the crown shaped cliff

there was just no explanation for it

‘wait? did you say cliff? like the rockier beach area?’ you ask, eyes widening in disbelief

‘as in, the place right by your house, yes.’ a nurse answers - you aren’t paying attention

was it really a dream?

you return to the water as soon as you’re out of the hospital despite doctors and family warnings

Nationals are long forgotten

but you need to know the truth

after getting a tip-off from Jaehwan, Daehwi doesn’t dare to venture near the surface anymore

he can see you from where he is anyway

you’re standing by, waiting, wasting your time

all because you thought you dreamed it

he misses the surface, he misses observing, he misses you :(

‘ah, what the hell,’ you groan, skipping stones to pass the time. ‘I should never have believed it. It’s just a dumb dream.’

right then, you spot a tuft of fluffy purple hair peek out from behind a nearby Boulder

that catches your attention immediately

‘hello? are you okay? do you need any help?’ you yell, the beating of your heart quickening

there is no reply, just a swish of something and a dive back into the water

‘wait!’

you wade into the waves, peering beyond the horizon to get a glimpse of whoever that was

‘I can help you!’ but your voice just echoes around you, back to you, empty

you’re curious

but didn’t curiosity kill the cat?

luckily, Daehwi is practically a harmless merman

there is a reason why he stays mainly behind the barriers of King’s Cliff

he isn’t really into combat and using his powers to harm

Daehwi swims as fast as he can back to his city, pass the wall and back to his universe

he can finally breathe again

not that he couldn’t on the surface but he was holding his breath out of anxiety

he knows he can’t return for another good week or so

now, you’re wise enough

you hide behind rocks or trees or even under a nearby beach umbrella

so it isn’t immediately obvious what you’re up to

some people have already begun whispering, some say you’ve lost your mind, waiting for something that doesn’t even exist

you try to stray away from waiting but that gut feeling always hauls you back

you can’t explain it

I mean, yeah, maybe you hit your head too hard and all but...

one day

it’s bright and sunny, but the beach is close to deserted

maybe you’re the only person crazy enough to withstand the high heat

Daehwi knows that there won’t be anyone today

why? he strategically plans to surface in a hotter period so that no one will see him

even though he can’t observe anyone, he can enjoy time to himself

admire his tail, ponder whether he should polish his scales again

wondering whether he should buy a tail cover

does he really need those new kelp biscuits? He heard from Jisung it’s for detox

‘hello?’

at the sound of your voice, Daehwi dives back into the water on instinct but he doesn’t run away

you can’t believe what you’re seeing

a mermaid

a really good-looking one at that

‘you’re...real? this isn’t some sort of sick joke is it?’

how awkward is this? extremely

‘uh.’ Daehwi can’t say anything, he’s usually never tongue-tied. nervously, he swishes his tail to get further away from you

‘wait!’ you yell, reaching out a hand. ‘don’t go! please! I saw you in my dream...y-you, you saved my life.’

he did

Daehwi blushes and shyly looks away

‘yes, I did.’ He whispers softly

‘w-what’s your name?’

‘Daehwi.’

‘w-where...I-I, what h-happened?’ you stutter out, feeling your mind fall into a frenzy once again

the merman hums in response, he scans the area and picks up a small conch shell

‘you should take time to process what happened. when you’re ready, call me with this, I’ll come running.’

then, he plants a kiss on the shell and whispers something

how to be a conch shell

it glows for a second before turning purple

your eyes go cartoonish big and you’re beginning to wonder if this is another weird dream of yours

but it can’t be, because he slips the shell into the pocket of your shorts with a smile and you feel the weight of it

‘I....’

Daehwi catches you in his grasp before your body hits the water

your eyes are shut tight but you’re breathing

sighing - partially in amusement, he swims as near to shore as he possibly can before gently laying you on the soft sand

remember how I said it’s a hot day? Daehwi stays by your side, gently wetting your face in hopes of you waking up

and also to make sure you don’t die of dehydration or anything like that

eventually, he ducks for cover when your family realises what happened to you

he returns to King’s Cliff with his heart fluttering and a dreamy smile on his lips

he’s even particularly happy about attending shell spinning class that day

you wake up

believing everything that occurred was all a dream

but it can’t possibly be

for your new surfboard is leaning against your room wall, a fragment of the old one on your desk

and that small purple conch shell sits right by your bedside table, almost like a house phone in a hotel room

#wanna one #wanna one scenarios #produce 101 #produce 101 scenarios #yoon jisung #ha sungwoon #hwang minhyun #kim jaehwan #ong seongwoo #kang daniel #park jihoon #park woojin #bae jinyoung #lee daehwi #lai guanlin

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incomplete-nano-stash · 4 years

Text

Welcome to Technasia, Ch. 1

“They’re coming! Tuck, get down here!”

At her father’s insistent call, a small girl ambled her way down the seemingly tall staircase of her family’s home, cheerfully jumping down two steps at a time. Her gait belied her youth; at eight years of age, she felt more and more adult every day, and as such felt that she should have the pace of a grown-up as well.

“I’m coming, pa.” She jumped down the final two steps and rushed to the elder man’s side. She wrapped her right arm … her only arm … around her father’s hand as he stood eagerly by the door.

“I just hope that they approve. I’ve been working on it all night.” The man looked down on his daughter, smiling warmly. “Of course, I have the perfect motivation.”

The girl grinned. “Are you going to impress them with your tuck, pa?”

“Sure hope so. And it’s ‘tech,’ honey, not ‘tuck.’” The man tousled her hair. “One of these days you’ll learn, when you’re doing this trade by my side.”

The girl grinned at her father, passing the small stump of her left arm along the hem of the heavy leather apron he wore. Her proximity to the man became closer as she heard the clacking of hoofbeats just outside the door. A minute later, there was a polite knock on the door of the house.

“Here goes.” The man straightened his apron, cleared his throat, and opened the door.

Outside, accompanied by a retinue of guards, stood a lone woman, dressed in finery which broadcast her position. A metal crest of pink and blue pinned a shawl around her shoulders, covering an elaborately embroidered uniform, that of a doctor.

The man bowed, working around his daughter’s grip. “Your Highness, I am honored.”

The woman laughed. “Please sir, stand up. The honor is mine, it’s not every day you get to work with the best inventor in Technasia.” As the man stood back upright, she walked in the door. “I mean, when I told the other Princesses I was coming to see Hunt Inperia to work on a project, they were so jealous!”

Hunt blushed and stammered slightly. “Well, ah, I’m just as … well …”

The Princess laughed, noticing the girl at last. “Oh, and this must be the little one.” She crouched down to bring herself to eye level with the child. “Hello, little one. My name is Giana Killaine. Do you know me?”

The girl nodded. “I do, Your Highness, you’re the Princess of Medicine.”

Princess Giana smiled. “I see. And who might you be?”

The girl timidly clutched her father with her one hand. Hunt chuckled. “Your Highness, may I present my daughter, Imogen.”

The girl giggled. “Tuck.”

Princess Giana looked up questioningly to Hunt, who knew right away what was going to be asked. “She thinks her name sounds too funny, so we call her Tuck.”

“Ah, I see.” Princess Giana offered her hand to the girl. “It’s my pleasure to meet you, Tuck.”

Tentatively, Tuck brought her own hand forth and shook the hand of the Princess. Immediately, Tuck relaxed as the handshake continued, finally moving more to her father’s side. Princess Giana stood back upright.

“Your Highness, if I may, the workshop is this way.” Hunt motioned toward a door on the far wall of the room.

“Of course, let’s see it.” Princess Giana let Hunt guide her into the small workshop, keeping her eyes both on the man and on the little girl at his side. After a loud thunk, the door opened. Hunt reached inside the wall and found a candle, which he lit to guide the group into the darkness of the room. Once at the center, he lifted the candle up toward a fixture hanging from the ceiling, which ignited, along with five other similar fixtures sticking out of the walls: the room was immediately bathed in warm, orange firelight, bright enough to simulate the daylight outside.

Princess Giana emitted an excited squeal. “Is that it? That’s marvelous!” She motioned toward the work bench, where a long, metallic device lay.

“It is. I’ve been perfecting it all night last night. I hope it passes muster.” Hunt picked up the device, presenting it to Princess Giana for closer inspection. She held it in her delicate fingers, looking it over.

“Where is the input device?” She looked over at the workbench. “How is she going to control it?”

“Oh, here.” Hunt reached for a cable. “Direct mind linkage through an information vine. I know it might be a bit vulnerable, but it’s the best solution I could come up with.” He presented the piece to the Princess.

After a brief moment, Princess Giana found the correct connection and linked the vine to the device. “Perfect. Are we ready?”

Tuck looked up at her father. “Ready for what?” She clutched tighter to Hunt.

The man smiled down at his daughter, as Princess Giana handed him the device back. “It’s your early birthday present, honey.” He presented the device to Tuck. “This is your new arm.”

Tuck’s eyes lit up. “A new arm? I’m going to have two arms?” She grinned widely. “Oh pa, thank you!” She hugged Hunt enthusiastically.

“Not just me, honey, Princess Giana is helping too. I can’t do it alone, that’s why she’s here.”

Tuck looked up at the Princess. “Thank you too, Your Highness.” Tears welled in the girl’s eyes.

Princess Giana crouched down and hugged the girl. “You’re very welcome, Tuck my dear. Come, let’s all take my carriage back to the Central Palace and prepare to do this.”

The group left the workshop, and the house, climbing into the Princess’s coach and riding away quickly.

Twelve Years Later

The crowds lined the streets of the capital city, creating a lively, festive atmosphere. The holiday kept the people bustling for weeks in preparation, although the work was happy in nature. Everyone celebrated the founding of the kingdom of Technasia, of the end of the great darkness which befell the world and led to the worldwide schism, and the establishment of the royalty.

All of the fuss was not generally to the Queen’s taste. She yawned loudly in her open carriage, waiting for the parade to begin. It had become a yearly ritual that the entire Royal Corps would have a ceremonial processional on the first official day of the government’s year, which evolved into the Establishment Day holiday, but it was a tradition that the Queen was trying to do away with … unsuccessfully.

An attendant approached the carriage. “Your Majesty, the Princess Corps is ready to proceed.”

The Queen nodded. “Of course, let’s get this over with.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” The attendant, always one for formality, stepped down from the carriage and turned toward the assembled women. “Your Highnesses of the Royal Princess Corps, you may now proceed to Queen Guerrania’s carriage.” He bowed deeply.

The five Princesses, of various ages and attitudes, formed a line to enter the narrow carriage passageway. At least two of them groaned; they were just as weary of this ceremony as their Queen was. The attendant stood at ramrod attention by the carriage door and guided each Princess aboard, loudly announcing them as they came on.

“Her Highness Ramia Tensay, Princess of Law!” A slender, commanding figure stepped into the carriage, wrapped in a full length coat. Her hair was tightly bundled underneath a wide brimmed hat. She wore her badge of office on her shoulder, forgoing the capes that the other Princesses preferred. She took her place at Queen Guerrania’s right side.

“Nice day for this, huh?” Princess Ramia quipped to the Queen, trying to lighten the mood.

“Would be nicer if we could just get on with our business,” the Queen replied dryly. Princess Ramia could only nod in agreement.

“Her Highness Anyia Po, Princess of Literacy!” A bespectacled older woman, mousy and humbly dressed save for her royal cape and badge of office, stepped cautiously into the carriage. Her hair in a tight bun, she swept a few stray gray locks away from her face as they blew in front of her eyes. She tightly carried a book with her as she took her place at Princess Ramia’s right side.

“I have some information of the utmost importance for you, Your Majesty.” Princess Anyia’s face showed her worry.

“We’ll attend to it when we get back to the Central Palace. Just be patient, old friend.” Queen Guerrania’s face showed her fatigue with the proceedings.

“Her Highness Jayne Monger, Princess of Strength!” A massively muscled woman, clothes tightly clinging to her intimidating frame, royal cape barely covering halfway down her back, climbed in and made the entire carriage rock. She took her place at the front of the carriage, across from Queen Guerrania.

“How are things at the docks, Jayne?” Queen Guerrania seemed genuinely happy to see Princess Jayne.

“Busier than usual. We have a lot of visitors for the parade today.” Princess Jayne shrugged. “Sorry, but it’s really popular, Your Majesty.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Queen Guerrania groaned. She turned back to the door of the carriage as the attendant yelled.

“Her Highness Giana Killaine, Princess of Medicine!” Princess Giana climbed in the carriage and took a place to Princess Jayne’s right. She cleared her throat and turned to the Queen.

“Your Majesty, we have an important matter to discuss when we get to the Central Palace. It regards the Dark Regions. I believe I may have …”

“In due time, Giana. Let’s get through this first.” The Queen motioned for Princess Giana to hold on to her report until later.

“Her Highness Hanna Umbriel, Princess of Life!” An exotically dressed, slender, young woman climbed into the carriage, her badge of office nearly completely covered by the flowered corsage she wore alongside it. She wrapped herself in her cape and placed herself between Princess Giana and Queen Guerrania.

“Are we ready to go yet? I want to get back to the greenhouse.” Princess Hanna rolled her eyes impatiently.

“We should be leaving now, I would imagine.” As the Queen made her observation, the door closed on the carriage as the attendant stepped back. He climbed up into his seat on the back bumper of the carriage, securing himself shortly before the horses pulling it were urged forward.

The sunlight dappled in the small house’s main room, shadows created by the milling crowds outside, lining the streets. Through the window, Tuck Inperia found she could barely see the street; her view was entirely impeded by backsides. She rolled her eyes.

“So many people, and nobody coming to pick up orders.” She sighed, looking up at the mantel. A portrait of her father hung there, from happier days, his beloved daughter in his lap. Tuck kissed two fingers and placed them on the portrait’s lips, to show her respects. Her metal replacement arm, the ninth such arm she had used in the past twelve years as she had outgrown each one, reached for her satchel.

A cheer rose from outside. Tuck’s eyes widened and she ran for the door, satchel-less. At the door, she finally realized her mistake, turned and motioned her metal arm to the table. With a quiet hiss of air, her forearm shot across the room, tethered to her body with an expansion cable, and grabbed the satchel, then retracted back to her body. Bag strapped on, Tuck walked outside.

One of her neighbors, a cheerful older woman who ran the bakery two doors down, rushed up to her. “Hey Tuck, isn’t it exciting? Establishment Day once more!”

Tuck smiled nervously. “I suppose it is. Pa always liked it.”

The older woman covered her mouth in embarrassment. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry, it’s not been that long …”

Tuck waved her hand. “That’s quite all right, Mrs. Thiele. I just want to get a good view of Princess Giana and wave to her.”

“Oh yes, go right ahead. I’ll clear a path for you.” Mrs. Thiele crossed her arms in front of her and started pushing through the crowd, bellowing at the top of her lungs. “INVENTOR COMING THROUGH! MAKE WAY!”

Now Tuck couldn’t help but laugh, following her human prow through the sea of people until she was right at the edge of the street, with a perfect view of the parade. Several royal guard horses pranced past, their steps perfectly coordinated, their riders sharing warm waves with the crowds.

Boring, Tuck thought. She looked to her right, hoping to see the Royal Corps carriage on its approach, even though it was always at the end of the procession after the country’s standing military guard. Still lines and lines of soldiers to go. Tuck muttered impatiently, reaching into her satchel and pulling out a sandwich.

Her lunch was just about finished when the last of the soldiers marched past, and the Royal Corps carriage was finally making its way up the street. The loudest cheers were always heard for the Queen and the Princess Corps, as they were universally beloved by all. Tuck stood as tall as she could, waving both of her arms in celebration of the rulers.

An unusual sound came to her ear. Metallic, not close by, so it couldn’t be her arm. It sounded like gears meshing badly. Grinding.

The carriage came up close to where Tuck stood. She caught a glimpse of Princess Giana smiling and waving at her. Tuck almost waved back but she heard the sound again, followed by a new one.

An air charge went off, similar to the one in Tuck’s arm. Her eyes swung to the source of the sound and spotted a projectile, a large spear, heading straight for the carriage. She screamed incoherently toward the carriage, lifting her metal arm toward them.

Without even thinking, Tuck’s arm shot forward, in a path in front of Queen Guerrania. The monarch was taken aback by the sudden presence of the device, but then the clunk of the spear hitting its metal skin solved the mystery of its presence.

Princess Ramia was immediately on her feet, pulling a crossbow out from under her coat. “Assassin! Get down!”

People started screaming. Chaos erupted as townsfolk scrambled through the street, across the parade route, spooking mounted cavalry horses. Princess Ramia brought her crossbow to bear, looking for the source of the spears. Tuck’s arm retracted back to her.

Princess Jayne turned to see Tuck. “You girl, come here! Protect your Queen!” She frantically motioned for Tuck to approach the carriage while keeping herself low. Tuck raced toward the carriage, fishing through her satchel for anything that would be helpful.

Her hand found an attachment. She pulled it out. It was a frying pan on a long, toothed handle, which she had just crafted the week before. Tuck quickly unhooked the locks on her metal hand, removing it and installing the pan.

Another spear fired. Tuck heard Princess Ramia return fire, but she knew there would not be enough time to reload before another came. Tuck raised her arm, and the frying pan flew through the air, deflecting the next spear. While she was reeling her arm back in, she heard another spear fire.

A piercing scream shattered the air. All at once, no more spears came. The scream turned into wailing. Tuck switched out the attachment back to her hand, then ran toward the carriage, climbing up its ladder to see what was going on inside.

Princess Hanna was the one wailing. She cradled a prone figure in her lap, covered in blood, a spear driven deeply into her chest. The figure’s face flopped over and Tuck caught her breath in her throat, her eyes getting warmer.

Princess Giana had been hit. There was no life left in her eyes, it was an instant kill. Without thinking, Tuck opened the carriage door and ran over to Giana’s side.

“Who are you?” Princess Hanna demanded through her sniffles and wails.

Tuck pointed to Princess Giana’s lifeless body. “A friend of hers. Let’s go!” Her shouted command urged the carriage driver forward, speeding through the crowds and making way toward the Central Palace.

Before the carriage even stopped, Tuck was clutching the lifeless body of Princess Giana by the shoulders, as Princess Hanna held her feet to help lift her off of the vehicle. With the rest of the Princess Corps assisting them, they carried the lifeless Princess of Medicine off and inside the foyer of the Central Palace, its normally light and majestic features reflecting the somber mood of the women who now occupied it.

Tuck placed her face in her hands, now letting the sorrow sink in. Though this was not her first visit to the seat of government of Technasia, she vaguely remembered the previous one, but did not care about her surroundings as her grief overcame her. One by one, the Princesses let their sadness out. Princess Hanna clutched to Princess Jayne, bawling unconsolably. Princess Anyia slumped as she stood over the proceedings. Despite her sorrow, Princess Ramia crouched next to the body and threw herself into her work, examining the spear which still penetrated the deceased Princess’s chest.

All of the women pulled themselves upright, however, when Queen Guerrania made her way in the room, gently holding the hand of her attendant to help her steady her gait. She approached the group, looking sadly at the prone figure. Her face crossed from neutral to disappointment to sadness.

“It’s always tough losing a soldier.” She sighed deeply. “Giana, my friend, you were a great companion. I’m so sorry this had to happen.” Queen Guerrania reached down and closed Princess Giana’s eyes, then looked up at Princess Ramia. “Get this down, Ramia: next year, the Establishment Day parade is getting severely scaled down, and we are starting patrols and checkpoints a month in advance.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Princess Ramia pulled out a notebook and wrote down the order.

“Anyia,” Queen Guerrania continued without missing a beat, “send word throughout the nation of what has happened here, and inform them a nationwide day of mourning is declared for tomorrow.”

Princess Anyia nodded.

Queen Guerrania sighed, came upright, and approached Tuck. The young inventor, sad but nervous at the same time, jerkily knelt before the Queen.

“I suppose I have you to thank for continuing to be alive?”

Tuck looked up confusedly at the Queen. Her mouth opened, jaw slack.

“It’s all right, my dear, you don’t have to be afraid. Come, stand with me.” Queen Guerrania held her hand out to the girl. She took it with her natural hand and stood up. “What’s your name, dear?”

Tuck cleared her throat. “It’s Inperia, Your Majesty, Imogen Inperia.”

The Queen placed a thoughtful finger on her chin. “It sounds familiar.”

“My father Hunt worked with Princess Giana years ago on … well …” Tuck motioned with her metal arm.

“That’s right, I remember you now. Giana and your father kept calling you Tuck, that’s why I was having trouble.” Queen Guerrania flashed a wan smile. “Giana was my closest friend when we were both Princesses. I imagine you can understand what I’m feeling.”

Tuck nodded sadly. “I just lost my father a month ago, and now to lose Princess Giana … never had a mother either …”

Queen Guerrania placed a hand on Tuck’s shoulder. “I have an idea. Maybe we can help each other, my dear.”

Tuck looked at the Queen questioningly. “How is that?”

Queen Guerrania kept her hand on Tuck’s shoulder, turning her head. “Anyia?”

Princess Anyia was nearly out the door, but turned back at the sound of her name. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

Queen Guerrania moved herself behind Tuck, turning the girl to face Princess Anyia. “Send out one more missive. Let’s introduce the nation to its newest Princess.”

#nanowrimo #incomplete nano

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jesscopeland · 7 years

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DADS ARE THE WORST ...peter & jess.

Peter had a rough few weeks, to say the least. Since the fiasco at the ball, it had seemed like he just couldn't win. He had barely spoken to his daughter-- scratch that, he hadn't spoken to his daughter. The whole point of her coming to live with him was that he could watch over and guide her, and after the election had gone awry, he was either too busy scolding her for her wiley behavior or trying to avoid her with work & alcohol. Today, though, he finally shambled out of his room for the first time, although still in his pajamas, settling in on their couch and turning on the television. He needed the sunlight. Upon seeing Jessica enter the room, he immediately felt the guilt and anxiety rush into his throat. "Jess, hey, haven't seen you in a while." He gave her a tight lipped smile. "Why don't you, uh, come sit, pumpkin?" he patted the seat next to him awkwardly.

It didn't matter where Jess tried to hide these days, assignments were out to kick her ass. Whether it be a collection of short essays on anyone between Beethoven The Great and David Helfgott The Unheard Of — when she wasn't bored out of her mind reading their memoirs, she was thinking about Ophelia and how Jess was going to get a mind reader to trust her, or Thiago and how crappy he must feel these days being Capital D-Dead. It was safe to say that much like her dad, she'd been preoccupied lately, not to mention that Jess still held a bit of a grudge against her father for not telling her about Adriel. Having come home well after midnight the night before and leaving bright and early to go see Sylvia about one of her college assignments, it was safe to say that Jess looked like shit. Tired, moody and kind of short even with herself at the moment, she tried to creep up the stairs only to be spotted in the doorway. Twisting on her heel slowly, she eyed her dad, puffy faced and in his PJs. Must have been nice. "Yeah. That kinda happens when you get into a serious relationship with your bed." She was being snide, and looking at her dad she knew in her gut that he didn't deserve it. So taking a beat, she sighed and folded her arms, but didn't sit. "Guess even those protected by the angels get the flu sometimes..."

Oh, she was going to go this route, eh? He couldn't say he was surprised, and at her remarks, simply gave her a disappointed frown and let out a sigh through his nose. "Jess." However, he was at least happy to see that she corrected herself, even somewhat slightly. It was hard to look at her these days, especially when it seemed as if she could barely look back at him either. All he could remember were their times together-- trips to the movies, camping, waterparks, father and daughter vacations, birthday parties -- it all flashed before his eyes, blending into her now dismayed expression. When she refused to sit with him, he picked his spiked coffee back up, taking a sip before then leaning forward. "That's what this is about?" he huffed, "I really don't know what you think Adriel meant by those comments, but they're really just a helpful ally around town. Your friend--Nolan is it? Was being a bit confrontational."

The sound he made when he used her name was as familiar to her as her own body, and yet each time she felt a shiver run through her, as if warning her of uncharted waters. It took everything in her not to say 'Dad' back in the same tone. "Nolan's a cop it's his job to be confrontational." She defended quickly, perhaps too quickly. So instead, she made a face and lifted a hand out incredulously. "Anyway, what do you mean that's what this is about? Dad, you knew. You knew this whole time that something weird was going on and yet every time I ever mentioned anything about supernatural people in West Hollow you acted as if I'd lost a hunk of brain cells." She accused, not happy about that. "Every time I tried to make you listen to me you looked at me like I was crazy."

Where did he draw the line between protecting his daughter and helping her? Seeing her speaking with Catherine, and then her veiled threat when she had walked off from it had sent chills down his spine. Just when he had thought he had control back at the ball, it had been ripped from him yet again. For a moment, her tone made him reconsider his stance on telling her about it all. If he should confess the blackmailing, show her the scars, tell her who to avoid and who to go to for help. It only took a second for him to go back on it, though, as he realized her ideas about the whole thing were twofold. The way she spit at Adriel's existence meant even angels, literal angels from heaven, weren't even safe from her little club's wrath. Peter's eyebrows furrowed at her, his lips drawing into a line of frustration. "Jessica, I wanted to just sit and talk with you and now you're back on this--this...conspiracy nonsense." Peter then sat up slowly, walking over to be closer to her. "I'm not saying you're crazy, but pumpkin, do you honestly believe that Adriel is an angel? Just because she answered your off duty friend's aggressive questioning? I mean, jeez, when we brought you to Sunday school they weren't being literal, honey."

"It's not nonsense, Dad!" She whined like a child, resisting the urge to stamp her foot in protest. It wasn't nonsense. It was real and it was every day and they weren't the only ones aware of it, she was sure of that but she wasn't new to this conversation either. This was how it always went with her dad. The Mayor of Naiveville. "We were all there — at the ball. We saw what happened, there was something major going on and I know you know something about it. Why won't you just admit it?" She looked at him square-shouldered and determined. "What did you and Catherine fight about?"

Peter let out another frustrated sigh, rolling his eyes upwards towards the ceiling as his body turned away from her. God, would she ever shut the fuck about this? For a moment, he had to ground himself in the reality that Jessica was his daughter, and not some constituent he could wave away with an empty promise. "Jessica, please," Finally, looking back at her, he shrugged in the face of her passion, as if the whole thing was nonchalant. "Catherine, as you may have figured out, is a very passionate woman. She was upset about some of the awards, and then about some of the food. She owns a 5 star restuarant, honey, her standards can be a little high even for myself." The frustration inked into the lines of his face, wearing him down as he looked at her once more and tried to convince himself that this was all alright. Somehow. "I got a little cocky after having a few glasses of wine and she pushed me in frustration. You're reading into things as if you're in one of those literature classes, Jessica, when really there's nothing there. This is what being in that group does to you. Everything is a conspiracy, and when you get evidence otherwise, it's just another part of it. Honestly, this is why we can't talk anymore-- you're obsessed."

Everything he said rattled Jess's nerves right down to the embers in her core, rare to make a real flame but every so often, yes, there was a spark. Her dad was one of the easiest to ignite it and for a moment, she felt like her mom, a raging argument brewing in her belly and not even knowing where to begin. "No, Dad, we can't talk anymore because you're either too busy lost in a bottle or you're pretending I don't exist. Usually both." She snapped, wanting to yell in his face about Thiago possessing Camila's body and Holt lifting up couches but her stubbornness had Jess in a quiet fit of rage. If her dad didn't want to share what he knew, then fine. Neither did she. Twisting to storm to her room like some prepubescent kid, Jess paused to quickly add. "And for the record, maybe I am obsessed. But at least that group isn't afraid to talk to me. And sooner or later, we're going to find out what you're up to whether you like it or not."

Her words hit a cord in him he did not know even existed. How was it that children were able to frustrate one so much? Peter wasn't sure, but right at this very moment he could feel his blood boiling. She had only gotten worse as time had gone on being here, and he wasn't sure how to address it. As she mentioned his drinking though, that was it, and he scoffed, "Jessica, we talked about that. I'm an adult who can make my--" before he could even continue, she was on yet again, interrupting him. Peter's arms crossed over his chest, watching as she went with an aggrivated expression. "Afraid to talk to you..." he repeated her words with a grumble, shaking his head. He then followed as she walked up the steps, calling after her, "You and your friends can do whatever you want, but at the end of the day I'm still going to be your dad--your family, and that's what matters! If you don't like it, though, I'm sure your mother wouldn't have any problem taking you back!"

As her father's voice elevated behind her, Jess swore her feet got heavier with every stomp left behind. "Oohhh, and you'd just love that! Whenever anything gets too hard for you, just dump it in mom's lap, she'll take care of it! You know — she's not your actual secretary." Jess twisted around halfway up the stairs, hating those stairs, they always felt endless. Sighing, she tipped her head back. All she was doing lately was fighting with people and that wasn't like Jess. First Nolan, now her dad... who knew, maybe Jace would turn up and say the wrong thing next and she'd be completely out of friends. "Why does it always have to be like this? Why don't you trust me? If there's something going on, if you need help... Mystery Inc. can help you. That's what we're trying to do." She gestured out with her hands. "We're not just dumb kids in someone's basement anymore, Dad. We've got leads, we have real information... We have proof..."

At the accusation about Jackie, he felt the cord pulled once again. He scoffed loudly, angrily, "I do not think of Jackie as-- you know what? My relatonship with your mother is non of your business, Jessica!" Peter yelled back at her. As fired up as he was, he was upset inside, feeling the tension eating away at his own heart with every yell. As she stormed upstairs, he shook his head, letting out a depressed sigh at both his relationship with his own daughter and his actions. Just as he shuffled back to get his coffee, he heard her call to him yet again, halting his movements as he looked back to her. At her words about being in trouble, his mind swirled yet again with the guilt, weighting his feet down into the hardwood itself, as if he could somehow indent it just by standing there. As much as he wanted to tell her, it would only make her more of a target. But when? When would she stop asking? What if she never did? What if they went after her anyways? Peter let out a long breath through his nose, looking to the floor as he stil felt the anger from her words now mixing with the conflicting disappointment in himself. "Pumpkin, I....whatever you think you have," he finally looked back up at her, "you need to stay away from. This town is dangerous and not in the way you understand. That doesn't mean that there are angels or devils flying around, but once you go accusing someone of things like that, who knows how they'll react."

Jess felt her eyes turn glassy, blaming the salty feeling in the back of her throat on being so frustrated with being treated like a child. He didn't get it — she was capable. And hell, if she wasn't, then other people were in the group. Tougher people. Like Harper and Nolan, they'd be fine no matter what, Jess believed it. She just wanted her dad to believe it too. "Whatever, I'm tired." She surrendered with a disappointed wave of her hands, wanting nothing more than to go upstairs and call Jace or Nolan to complain about the whole thing. "If you see Catherine this week, tell her she can shove her 5-Star food," Jess called out, going to take the rest of the stairs to her room.

At her metaphorical waving of the white flag, he felt his whole body hunch over in not only guilt, but disappointment. The whole situation had gotten so out of hand, he couldn't even believe how fast it had happened. His one chance he tried to reach out and blew it, and yet again, he was left to regret her actions. Damned if he did, damned if he didnt. "Jess, pumpkin--" he called up to her, putting one foot on the first step only to hear the bedroom door slam and lock.

#c: jess #npc: peter copeland #jess; family

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msu82 · 7 years

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A Treasure of Light

Song: Light – Sleeping at Last Potential Trigger-Warnings: Brief mention of past-infant death. Mention of premature birth. (If there's anything I missed, let me know!) Other Info: Mylei is pronounced “May-Lee”, and Gens is pronounced “Jens” Also, I promise this ends happy! Just hang in through the angst that happens in the middle. I swear it ends happy! *salutes* The Teeny Padawan AU belongs to @markwatnae

He didn't know why the Force was calling him to a planet.

The Force rarely gives you things listen to without a reason, but it often did not give those reasons. Yet here he was! He was following the annoying prodding of the Force a few scant weeks after the most trying, traumatizing, stressing moment of his life on the otherwise beautiful planet of Naboo. No, not stupid prodding.,Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi ammended in his mind, as if to give a silent apology to what had created all things in the galaxy. It’s annoying, yes, but not stupid. I'm getting urged towards a planet for some reason, I'm just not sure what that is. The fact he was reason-less beyond having the Force urging him had created some contention among the Council, yet they'd allowed it. His padawan named Anakin Skywalker, on the other hand, had been a little less graceless in such a shaky cause.

Especially when the newly turned 10-year old had been told he couldn't come along.

It had made Obi-Wan feel guilty in ways he couldn't understand, for though the boy had all but thrown a tantrum it had been the desperation in it that had created the thick emotion in the adult. After a brief sit-down where the man explained it was for safety, for he knew not what the Force was leading him to, and he had also explained that it was rare for padawans younger than 12 to leave the Temple in a risky situation? Anakin had calmed enough by then to listen, but only after he had been physically held and had broken down from using his fists to just simply having his eyes tear in frustration. Apologizes made and comforts given, Obi-Wan had left the next day with a promise to maybe bring the boy back a small, secondary birthday present from the world he was heading too. That had perked up any lingering sadness in the boy. His worries were still clearly flickering through their fledgling bond, and he couldn’t blame him for that worry. The boy had been ripped away from the only life he'd know after all, and he had become the child’s rock. It made sense he'd go into a panic with the news he'd have to be separated from him for stars-know how long. Stop thinking of Anakin! You're supposed to be meditating. Ah, there was that little voice in his head. His conscious. He was almost tempted to just argue with it, but then the voice reminded him that talking to one's self like that was considered a sign of insanity. So, with that decided, he evened out his breathing properly and returned to the beginnings of meditating. ...Perhaps the Force is sending me into another war or battle? The last few happened within a year of one another, so it would make sense for it to throw another one at me even faster. Now that little voice was yelling at him for being a smartarse at his own self. Yes, insanity was coming on.

Definitely time to meditate.

He had used the Force to guide his hand when he went about setting the coordinates to his destination. Foolishly, he hadn't checked what planet he was being prodded towards after he had all but ghost-input directions for after the information had popped up. So, understandably, it was his own fault that his eyebrows shot up in surprise when it was time to take over from the autopilot less than a day later. A system not too far from the core at all, Wardlow sector, and the planet Danan of all places! It was almost like the secondary capital beside Coruscant. If it had been in the center of the galaxy there was little doubt it would have been the capital planet rather than the current. The reason? Force sensitives popped up plenty on the planet. In fact, it was so common that there was even a small school run by Jedi in the capital city. The Danan's rarely sent their children away to the actual Order with how treasured a life of connections was for their culture the Jedi Order accepted this, but it was dangerous to leave so many young one untrained. Thus, the school. Where children were raised with just enough of the Light Side's teachings in order to prevent injury to others or their own person. But even with a few actively on planet to teach, other Jedi frequently stopped by in general, and there was no visible distress as he went through the process of customs and landing on the planet. So why was he hear? It wasn't something with the school, for he was being prodded to one of the smaller cities. Upon landing, and with nothing but the Force to guid him, Knight Kenobi began to walk blindly about the night-life population. And that's what brought him to this moment. “NO!” Somehow, he had ended up in a hospital. The scream startled him, and he watched as a clearly pregnant woman was wheeled by on a bed by group of nurses and a doctor. The scream had held desperation and anger. For reasons he didn't know, an odd mixture of the Force's prodding and familiarity, he followed after the group. “Take me back to my rooms, take me back! I am NOT birthing my daughter yet! It's too soon!” The woman grabbed at the doctor's uniform, “You said you'd stop the contractions. You promised me! You promised me on the honor of your names!” The doctor looked pained, wrapping his hands around the woman's as the nurses continued to push the bed off. “I'm sorry, Mrs Metic, but for some reason the drugs simply aren't....” The rest of the words were lost on Obi-Wan's ears as something clicked into place. Metic. Metic. He'd hadn’t heard that name in such a long time.

His mind flashed back over a decade prior. To a time when he had been nothing but a mere 7-years of age and his mentor, an older Initiate, hadn't been chosen as a padawan. Her choice, rather than joining any of the Jedi-run work forces, had been to return to her homeworld. They had kept in contact at first, but eventually the teachers had convinced him to wean off of the communications. They had seen it as an attachment. Despite this, he had always remembered her. The girl had been one of the first outside of his Creche Clan or overall age group that he had made friends with.

She had been like an older sister. The way that Master Tahl had once been like a mother for him.

Hell, he had even helped her pick out her own last name when he'd practically still been a toddler!

“Mylei? Mylei Metic?” The Knight called, and the group stopped moments from the 'Restricted Access' doors of the natal department. The woman on the bed turned her head in her desperate despair, hazel eyes lighting up in reconiztion as, with unpracticed touch, she reached out in the Force to the familiar signature of such an old friend. “Obi?” Wonder turned to sweet relief, a sob of happiness leaving her through her otherwise distressed moment. “Obi-Wan!” The woman gasped, reaching out for him and he instantly moved over to take her hand. The group, seeing the woman calmed, continued through the doors. No one questioned the Jedi being there for the time being, especially since it was keeping the mother calm. “What exactly is happening?” The ginger-haired man asked, keeping a firm grip of comfort on the girl's hand. “She's going into early labor, Master Jedi. The medications we used to try and cancel the contractions just simply aren't working the way they should,” The group hurried thorugh another set of double-doors. “The child is already all but in the birth canal, and we can't truly know her chances of survival until the girl has been born.” Obi-Wan nodded, graved, and gave his friend's hand a squeeze as the woman let out a whimper of despair. Much sooner than anyone in the group wanted, they were in a birthing room in the Natal Intensive Care Facility of the hospital.

He hadn't expected the Force to seemingly lead him to a planet to reconnect with a long-lost friend. He hadn't expected the Force to have that friend beg him to be in there as the baby was delivered, because her husband was on the literal other side of the planet with their soon to be second-youngest child and she hadn't been able to get hold of him, and the rest of her children were being kept at their grandmother's home. Over all else, he definitely hadn't expected the Force to lead him to the birth of a baby who, once born, the doctors had examined and then softly declared that she would be impossible to save. The girl was tiny, having been inside of her mother for barely 21 weeks, and everything about her was impossibly small. From toes and a nose to the stuttering heart and barely-filling lungs from little, almost nonexistent wheezes of air puffing past the baby's lips. She hadn't cried when she'd been born. Her eyes hadn't opened at all in response to the light of the room.Her body was seemingly too weak to respond to anything, and far to tiny for any of the equipment in the hospital to do any good in trying to help her survive. It would just do more damage than good. Just make the poor thing suffer. Mylei was in the hospital bed, curled up and the baby was in the bassinet with a breathing mask. The doctors said they didn't expect her to last more than an hour. They'd done the birth certifercate, but a name had yet to be put on. The ink still stained the baby's tiny feet. By the Force, he just couldn't get over how tiny she was. And yet.... Her little life was so bright. Small and flickering, sure, but so, so, so bright. Anakin was a supernova to him, and this girl was like the end of one. The dying of a star. “Obi?” He looked up from where he stood next to the bassinet, watching the newborn's chest barely rise and fall. “Yes, Mylei?” “Can... c-can you stay with her? I need to try calling Gens again. And I...” The 31-year old glanced at her dying child, eyes bloodshot and her aura in the Force filled with so much heartache. “I... I-I just can't watch another die. I-I've lost one before, then had another several years later. That little girl is almost three-years older than this sweetheart.” The woman's breath hitched as she hit the call-button for a nurse. “I... I never thought I'd have to with another.... That I'd have to bury-....” Her eyes squeeze shut, unable to finish the words. Obi-Wan's heart ached for her. It ached like it was being ripped out. It was a sensation he had only felt one other time. “Of course I'll stay with her, Mylei. Do what you need, and I'll do whatever I can for you.” Her moved over to the woman, giving her hand a squeeze and wiped some of her tears from her cheeks. Two nurses came in moments later. One helped the former resident of the Jedi Temple into a hoverchair and pushed her out of the room. The second nurse moved over to the child's basinet, reading the layouts for the biomonitor. Whatever was being read obviously wasn't a good sign. The mask was being removed. The doctor had inform he and his almost-like-a-sister not to long ago that they'd only remove the breathing-help for the girl once her oxygen intake deteriorated to a certain point. The star flared weekly, still bright but fading as the child's life faded further and further from the ability to actively live. Obi-Wan watched, silent as his heart managed to feel even more torn from each barely existent movement of that tiny chest he was watching, as if hypnotized. It was as if his instincts was telling him not to dare miss a moment of this child's short life. “Am I allowed to hold her?” The nurse was startled by the suddenness of his voice. To be honest, Obi-Wan was startled by it as well. He knew not the reason for it. Just another thing for 'no known reason' to add to the ever-growing list over the past week or so of his life. The two professionals of their own duties in life stared at one another, but finally the nurse recovered and offered a small, sorrowed smile. “You can if you want. The poor dear doesn't have much time left, so it wouldn't do any damage. Might make the last moments a little happy for her.” The matron moved a weathered hand to gently stroke at the pink-hatted head of the baby. She helped him situate the little girl in his arms, and then left him once he asked. He didn't know why he had asked. Now it was just him and this poor little life that seemed destined to leave the galaxy far before her time. He had her cradled in the crook of his arm, and every little soft, almost inaudible wheeze proceeded to crack his heart more and more. Slowly, he shifted the position to tuck the newborn's head beneath his chin. One hand cradled the back of her neck, and the other supported the rest. “You poor, sweet little-light.” Obi-Wan whispered, not wanting to move his jaw too much or risk hurting the tiny one’s head. So, once more, he shifted the babe down to rest more against the pulse-point of his neck rather than directly beneath his jawline now. The finger's on the baby's back—a back barely the height of his entire hand—idly rubbed, he breathing in an even rhythm that starkly contrasted the tiny quivers of air. The Force seemed to be whisping around them, tickling at his ears and all but trying to blanket the babe he held. In the sensation he held the girl more securly, fingers still rubbing. Until this point he had resisted the surprising-and-odd urge until then that had been growing, but with holding this tiny, fragile, fading life in his arms he could no longer hold off. He lowered his shields to slowly wrap his aura around the baby. He needed to give her comfort. If everything else hadn't completely shattered his now own fragile heart, then this certainly had. It was a faint flicker now, just like the girl's spark of life, but she was a little Force Sensitive. “Oh, little one.” He whispered, throat thick as he squeeze his eyes shut tightly in pains that were now phantom-ing from Naboo. After a few minutes, with the girl still barely clinging to that fragile life she had, Obi-Wan's eyes would open to stare out at the night skies of Danan. It was law that all public lights be on the lowest power. The brightness of the stars, so many more visible here than on Coruscant, were far too pretty for such a moment in time. “May these words be the first to find your ears,” The first words had left his lips before he realized what was happening. “The world is brighter than the sun now that you’re here.” He began to pace around the room, his voice and breaths remaining steady even as his throat thickened with emotion. “Though your eyes will need some time to adjust to the overwhelming light surrounding us...” He wrapped his Force-signature more securely around her tiny one, and following the urging of the Force in his ears (even if he knew it would hurt, to feel a life snap while wrapped around it) he began to feed some of his meager healing abilities into her. He had never been very good on minor injuries, let alone major ones. and this poor babe wasn't even injured. She just wasn't strong enough to live. He continued on, singing a lullaby to the life this little girl might could have had. As a civilian, as a Jedi, or at least as a trained Force-sensitive at her planet's school. Even as the biomonitor connected to the bracelet on an impossibly fragile ankle had the heartbeats start to pace further apart. Dangerously, agonizingly far apart for a newborn. Beep-beep, beep-beep.... beep-beep, beep-beep....

“I’ll give you everything I have. I’ll teach you everything I know. I promise I’ll do better.”

He sang for the Master she maybe could have had if she had been one of the rare force-senstive children from Danan who were actually sent off to the Temple, and also singing for the father that now wouldn't get to meet her while she still lived.

Beep-beep, beep-beep.... Beep-beep, beep-beep.... “I will always hold you close, but I will learn to let you go. I promise I’ll do better.”

He sang for his sister in all but blood, who had needed to leave the room where her youngest child was dying in. After her own body had sabotaged her own baby's life. She'd have to go on, though, for the other children she already had to raise and live for.

“I will soften every edge, I’ll hold the world to its best, and I’ll do better.” Beep-beep, beep-beep.... Beep...beep, beep-beep....

“With every heartbeat I have left I will defend your every breath,”

He now sang of himself, in a promise he meant. One he meant so deeply it almost scared him. Beep...beep, be...ep-beep.... Beep...beep, be...ep-beep.... Beep...beep...beep-be...ep.... He swirled more healing energy against that little spark of her, eyes squeezing shut again as the Force swirled in his entire being. “And I’ll do better.” Something prodded back at his Force signature. Unaware and instinctive, yet something tiny prodded back.

...Beep...beep, beep-beep. ...Beep...beep, beep-be...ep.

His eyes snapped open. The Force started to sing with him as he swirled his energy more around that fragile little life of her's. “'Сause you are loved, you are loved more than you know. I hereby pledge all of my days to prove it so.” His fingers started rubbing a little more deliberately at the little back, the formerly limp infant twitching in his arms. Beep...beep, beep-beep. ...Beep...beep, beep-beep. “Though your heart is far too young to realize—”

Beep...beep, beep-beep. Beep...beep, beep-beep.

“—the unimaginable light you hold inside.” The tiny chest against his own had begun to expand more. The baby girl twitched again, and as something as a more audible noise escaped the girl, even if it was just a louder wheeze, he felt his eyes tear in a burning, yet hopeful, bought of disbelief. The Force filled him more, and he focused more of a healing aura on the little one he held almost more protectively than a Creche Master did the young of the Order. He continued to sing and it was as if the Force was now singing with him. “I’ll give you everything I have. I’ll teach you everything I know. I promise I’ll do better.” Beep-beep, beep-beep.... Beep-beep, beep-beep. “I will always hold you close, but I will learn to let you go. I promise I’ll do better.” The smallest of whimpers left in a muffle against his chest. “I will rearrange the stars, pull ‘em down to where you are. I promise, I’ll do better.” The tiny chest was expanding even more, and the twitching of the little body had started to turn into proper squirming as the biomonitor continued to beep more and more from a steadily increasing heartrate. A rapid, steadying increase that would be worrying in any other circumstance, but not in this one. It would never worrying in a moment like this. Beep-beep, beep-beep. Beep-beep, beep-bah-beep. Beep-beep, beep-bah-beep. “With every heartbeat I have left, I'll defend your every breath.” The tiny thing in his arms inhaled a wheezing, squeeking chain of breaths. The little light in the Force flared in the coocon he had made with his own aura. “I promise I’ll do better–” A wail escaped the now squirming little thing tucked in the security of his body, and a wet sob of a laugh escaped him. He managed to glance down slightly, catching sight of the pair of wide, tear-filled brown eyes that flickered in every direction. They finally took in the world around the owner who had been in the world nearly an hour after being able to take anything in at all. Then the fragileness of this situation came crashing down and promptly kicked his logical half back into full-geer. He moved in a quick carefulness towards the door of the hospital room and nudged it open with his shoulder. The insistent wails that the newborn shouldn't have even been able to cry now ringing down the medical hallway. “Nurse!”

Mylei had wanted to be a Jedi Healer, once upon a time. When she had told a little boy this so long ago, the little ball of fiery hair had suggested the last-name 'Metic' sing it sounding like part of the word 'medical.' She had unfortunately never been good at using the Healing Force, no matter how much she exercised the ability. In the end, her stubbornness for wanting to enter that career path and lack of skill in it had been one of th reasons she hadn't been chosen as a padawan. She had accepted it. It had given her a husband, a family that wouldn't have otherwise existed without her. The Force had given her the gift of six beautiful children. It had taken one from her before, a mere month after his birth. This one though.... It hadn't taken her youngest. “Now, what names are there to give you?” The woman murmured, her hand softly curling at the baby's in the incubator. The girl was miracle; clearly blessed by the Force in numerous definitions. Since her baby’s father had arrived two weeks prior the man hadn't stopped babbling at the girl whenever he was around her. The only time her husband, Gens, stopped was when he was away from the baby. And even then he still gushed about her! The only reason he wasn't fawning over their little miracle child was because he had offered to drive Obi-Wan back to the spaceport so he could return to Coruscant. She smiled fondly and with gratitude welling her heart. The Force had meant for her almost-brother to be here, it was clear. The brunette had felt, even years ago, that fate had brought she and that little boy she had mentored together for reasons beyond their sharing of the Unifying Force. “How about.... Sadie? You're definitely your father's little princess, after all.” The baby seemed tohave perfect timing, for the girl frowned in her sleep. “Ah, you're right. That is far, far too formal. Especially with the bloodline you got pumping in your veins—if your siblings are anything to go by, you definitely won't ever be very princess-like.” The baby's face relaxed in the special bed, and with a smile Mylei would reach out with her Force signature to gently pet at her daughter's own tiny one. She felt a little ashamed she hadn't noticed her unborn child's sensitivity. “Okay, next option; should I name you Evangeline? You could be called 'Evie' for short, little one. You were definitely brought back to me on a message of good news.” The baby frowned in her sleep again, though this time it was more pronounced and the child's body tensed up. “How about Naomi? That would fortell you to be beautiful and gentle in life.” The tiny, wet and bubbling sound that signaled a fowl diaper hit her ears. The baby relaxed in her slumber once more, and the mother laughed before calling for a nurse to change the fragile little girl. A few hours later, a thankful man returned to his wife at the hospital in the capital city of Danan. When he got to the NICF, he was greated with the sight of the woman he loved holding the youngest of their children skin-to-skin. He walked over, placed a kiss to his wife's head, and looked lovingly down at their child. “I want to send her to the Temple in perhaps a year. When she's older and healthy enough to go.” Mylei said softly, and her husband hummed beside her head. “I figured, and though I'm loath to let her go... That Force-stuff you always talk about obviously has some sort of plans for her, yeah? She can't fill those plans on Danan even if it’s around us every day” The woman smiled in a bitter-sweet way at the man, both of their eyes soon returning to the sleeping babe. Silence fell over them momentarily until the man spoke again, “Obi-Wan sent a final set of warm goodbyes for us and the family. He promised he'd mail in a few weeks, and told us to look after our little treasure.” Little treasure. Before her almots-brother had left the hospital she had heard him whisper a soft, 'Goodbye, little-light' to her daughter before some nurses had placed the baby back into the incubator. Her eyes went wide as she saw something that was not yet existent.

“Gens. Gens, I know what to name her for her first and middle. Go get the nurse in charge of her birth certifercate.” That startled the man from mooning over the babe. “You do?” To declare even a first name less than a month after any child's birth was rare, let alone knowing both the first and middle one! When the one he loved did nothing but nod firmly, he nodded in return. He pressed a signle kiss to the head of each of his girls before leaving to do what was asked of him. Mylei smiled after him, her gaze once more shifting to the baby she held. On the back of her eyelids, a picture danced of a short, plump, healthy girl with dimpled cheeks, long brown hair, and the most beautiful set of chocolate eyes. A girl who stood next to a man with red hair covering his head and lower face. There were smiles that decorated them both. It had been many years since Mylei had received an actual vision. It seemed fitting that one came in this moment. “Hello, little Elora Edie.” The former Jedi Initiate whispered to the newborn, receiving a small, instinctive little coo in response to the noise from the sleeping baby. “He will soften every edge, hold the world to its best. I promise he’ll do better.” He had already done better than her. He had saved her daughter's life.

“With every heartbeat he has left, he’ll defend your every breath.”

The Force sang in gentle in her ears with rightness as she closed her eyes, returning to the lingering vision of Obi-Wan Kenobi, years down the line, and what could only be the older version of the child she currently held. A child who was the sweetest little treasure-piece of light in the world.

Smiling, the woman pressed a kiss to the brow of a child that, somehow, must have never been intended to truly be her’s and her husband's in the first place.

“He'll do better....”

#teeny padawan au #Teeny Padawan AU Fanfiction: One-shots #msu82writes #sw fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #elora edie kenobi #edie kenobi #obi wan kenobi #pre-tpm #markwatnae #cute nuggets of tumblr #msu82 finally wrote something

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kansascityhappenings · 5 years

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Gunman posted online minutes before killing 3 at festival

GILROY, Calif. — Before a 19-year-old gunman opened fire on a famed garlic festival in his California hometown, he urged his Instagram followers to read a 19th century book popular with white supremacists on extremist websites, but his motives for killing two children and another young man were still a mystery Monday.

Santino William Legan posted the caption about the book “Might is Right,” which claims race determines behavior. It appeared with a photo of Smokey the Bear in front of a “fire danger” sign and also complained about overcrowding towns and paving open space to make room for “hordes” of Latinos and Silicon Valley whites.

Under it, he wrote: “Ayyy garlic festival time” and “Come get wasted on overpriced” items. Legan’s since-deleted Instagram account says he is Italian and Iranian.

He legally purchased the semi-automatic assault rifle this month in Nevada, where his last address is listed. He would have been barred from buying it in California, which restricts firearms purchases to people over 21. In Nevada, the age limit is 18.

Legan grew up less than a mile from the park where the city known as the “Garlic Capital of the World” has held its three-day festival for four decades, attracting more than 100,000 people with music, food booths and cooking classes.

Police said they don’t know if people were targeted, but at this point, but it appears he shot indiscriminately. Twelve people were injured.

Police searched Legan’s vehicle and the two-story Legan family home, leaving with paper bags. Authorities also searched an apartment they believed Legan used this month in remote northern Nevada. Officials didn’t say what they found.

Big Mikes Gun and Ammo, which appears to be a home-based internet gun shop in Fallon, Nevada, said on its Facebook page that Legan ordered the rifle off its website and “was acting happy and showed no reasons for concern” when the store owner met him. The post said it was “heartbroken this could ever happen.”

But Legan didn’t go through the front entrance. He cut through a fence bordering a parking lot next to a creek, Gilroy Police Chief Scot Smithee said. Some witnesses reported a second suspect, and authorities were trying to determine if he had any help.

Police arrested a 20-year-old man who claimed involvement online, but investigators determined he was just trying to get attention.

The police chief praised officers for stopping Legan with handguns without injuring anyone else.

“It could’ve gotten so much worse, so fast,” Smithee said.

The youngest victim, Stephen Romero, described by his grandmother as a kind, happy and playful kid, had just celebrated his sixth birthday in June at Legoland in Southern California.

“My son had his whole life to live and he was only 6,” his father, Alberto Romero, told San Francisco Bay Area news station KNTV after the shooting.

Also killed was 13-year-old Keyla Salazar from San Jose, seen dressed in pink, wearing a tiara of flowers and smiling as she poses with relatives in photos posted on her aunt’s Facebook page.

“I have no words to describe this pain I’m feeling,” Katiuska Pimentel Vargas wrote.

The oldest victim killed was Trevor Irby, 27, a biology major who graduated in 2017 from Keuka College in upstate New York.

The wounded were taken to multiple hospitals, and their conditions ranged from fair to critical, with some undergoing surgery.

Troy Towner said his sister, Wendy Towner, was at the festival for her business, the Honey Ladies, when she saw a man with a gun climb over the fence. She yelled at him: “No, you can’t do that!”

The gunman shot her in the leg and her husband three times, while a young girl dragged their 3-year-old son under a table, Towner wrote on a fundraising page he set up for his sister.

Legan then approached the couple as they lay motionless on the ground and asked if they were all right. They didn’t move, fearing he would finish them off, Towner wrote.

Towner said his sister underwent surgery and was expected to have long-term nerve damage, while her husband faces many surgeries.

“She was brave,” Marquez said.

Jan Dickson, a neighbor who lives across the street from the Legan family, described them as “a nice, normal family.” She said Santino Legan had not lived there for at least a year.

“How do you cope with this? They have to deal with the fact that their son did this terrible thing and that he died,” Dickson said.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2019/07/29/gunman-posted-online-minutes-before-killing-3-at-festival/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2019/07/30/gunman-posted-online-minutes-before-killing-3-at-festival/

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