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absolutekillswitch · 5 months

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no alarms and no surprises (please)

pairing: luke castellan x thanatos!reader

tw: major TLO spoilers (honestly tho if u haven’t read it yet, begone), major character death, discussions of blood and death, Luke was reader’s first kiss, mentions of past manipulation, lots of crying, and also i made [REDACTED] take way too long to die for the sake of dialogue. Sorry. Also! she/her pronouns are used, but I tried to steer clear of descriptors outside of that so this SHOULD be woc friendly

word count: 3.4k

It was cruel, this end he was facing. Y/N had felt it long before she’d seen it, that deep intrinsic tug within her, that sixth sense that had begun to go haywire since New York had fallen asleep, since the final countdown for western civilization had officially started running. The tug that alerted her to a new death in her vicinity. The curse bore by the children of death, the chained god, to feel the string of fate being cut, to sense lost souls being carried to the underworld by their father. To mourn, but not to see. She’d never felt it as frequently as she did now, feeling like threads tugging her in countless directions, so much so that her aim with her sword was affected. She’d been coined the best swordsman back at camp, after the previous titleholder had vacated the position, but now, it was like she was jittery, like a newborn zebra with a sword in their grasp, trying to learn how to stand and fight all at once, her battle senses being overridden by the unavoidable emotional pain of the fact that every tug she was feeling, was the feeling of a fellow demigod dying.

But then she’d felt that one.

The strength of this particular tug wasn’t lost on her. It was stronger than any she’d faced yet— stronger than the tugs of those she’d slain herself, and stronger than the tugs of those who had been close to her, when they were alive. It was so strong that the metaphysical tug had felt like a real, physical one, like she was physically being pulled in its direction. The proof of it is the crude slash on her forearm, where the kid she’d been fighting back had gotten a lucky shot on her due to her presently distracted nature.

It had to have been him.

She wasn’t sure just who she’d been fighting, and in the end, she doesn’t think it really mattered all that much, if they were a former camper; a demigod, or if they were an armored monster, as with a wave of her hand, the ground rumbles, opening up under their feet, boney, decayed hands dragging them into the earth, only for the ground to close up on them halfway through their forced descent. Y/N didn’t even notice, nor did she really care. All she knew was that she’d put an end to her own fight, allowing her feet to carry her to his side, numbness flooding her body, with a whispered command to her undead soldiers,

“Protect them.”

She’s not even sure how she found him, exactly. She’d just always been able to find him like that. Now seemed to be no exception to the rule, as she followed what she would consider to be the string of fate to his side. The sight she sees when she does is an unwelcome one, however. There’s three of them— she sees Percy and Annabeth crowded around a figure on the ground. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it is.

“Oh, Gods,” Y/N whispers, hesitating to get closer. She doesn’t know if she can. At the sound of her voice, Percy turns. He looks pale, eyes ringed in red. It looks like he’d been crying, exhausted, eyes wide, as if he were afraid he’d collapse if he even blinked. Y/N wouldn’t blame him, if he did.

“Y/N—“ He hesitates to speak, to try and explain, but Y/N doesn’t let him. She’s already marching over, ignoring the dread building in her gut, the tears in her eyes. And that’s when she sees him.

“Luke,” She whispers, the single word bordering on a gasp. Internally, she’s vaguely aware that this is the first time she’d used his name in years, preferring to call him by his last name, or traitor, at best, or whatever random curse she could think of at the time, at worst. She’d gotten pretty good at it, honestly— the coming up with insults to hurl at him every time they’d crossed paths since his betrayal. But now, all of that is gone. It seems that at that moment, Annabeth and Percy disappeared. It’s just them as she crumbles, falling to her knees before he can even protest. It’s him, not Kronos, she knows. They’d all learned how to tell the difference between the two, when Kronos had taken Luke’s face. Kronos had a colder air about him, eyes golden. Just pure evil that seeped into your bones, that seemed to change even the people around you. But this? This was Luke Castellan. Soft, soulful brown eyes, and a welcoming air about him. This was the guy who had been like all of Camp Half-Blood’s big brother. This was the guy Y/N had been in love with ever since she’d arrived at camp, even if she realized it far too late. Even if he was currently trying to get Percy to make her leave, not wanting her to see him like this. Never like this. Her eyes take stock of his appearance against her will. He looked just as bad as Percy did— worse, actually, given he was bleeding, Annabeth’s knife clattering from his hand to the marble below him. It makes her heart ache, the picture in front of her painted so clearly, even if she hadn’t been present to see it herself.

A hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap.

They’d realized what the prophecy meant, clearly. Luke had to be the one to take Kronos— and to an extent, himself— out. And when Luke had done it, when he’d touched his own Achilles heel, Kronos had run. So now, Luke Castellan was dying. Alone.

Well— not alone.

She was still here. She always would be, even if he’d insist otherwise. He hated how she always had made him want to be a better person. Even now, as he lay dying, covered in sweat, blood, and ash. If she tries hard enough, she can almost pretend that they’re back at camp, that they’d had an extremely rough day playing capture the flag, that the pair of them are in the infirmary, making up ridiculous stories for the scars they’ll have as a result of their adventure, shedding tears from their short lived pain in the name of glory but laughing anyway as they stitched each other up, letting the Apollo kids deal with those who didn’t have someone to back them up like Y/N and Luke did— someone to dote on them, and someone to dote on in return. But it gets hard, keeping up this fantasy. They’re both far too battle-worn, both with eyes that had seen far too much, faces years older than they were the last time they’d seen each other. And in spite of it all, all she can find herself thinking is,

‘Oh, love, you grew up without me’.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Luke tells her plainly, his brown eyes fighting to focus on her through his tears that he’s fighting to push back. Had they always done that?

“Yet I’m here anyway. Deal.” She responds, brows furrowing, focusing on the wound in his side. Prophecies be damned, she won’t let him die. He sits up straighter, slumped uncomfortably against a marble wall at the sudden pressure to his side, the daughter of Thanatos trying to staunch the blood flow, trying to give him more time, tears clouding her own vision, hands shaking. She knows deep down that it’s all in vain, but she won’t let him go. Not like this. She’ll fight her father back herself, if she had to.

“Y/N…” He whispers uncomfortably, hating how blood spurts past his lips, onto his chin, as he utters her name. He’s going to die, he knows, he can almost feel the fates beginning to prepare to cut his thread, but there’s some things he can’t leave unsaid. “My— my heart, it was always yours. You know that, right?” He notices how she flinches, expression troubled. “Take care of it, for me. I know you’ll do better with it than I ever had.” It’s true— his entire time at camp, since she’d arrived, he’d stupidly ignored it. He let hate and anger and jealousy cloud his mind for so long, he never really appreciated what was in front of him. It was just unfortunate it was taking his death to realize that.

“Don’t— don’t say that, not to me,” she sobs, shaking hands still covering his wound, stupidly, naively, believing she could still save him. “Don’t make it sound like you’re dying. You’re not dying, damn it,” she still sounds determined, one hand leaving his wound to touch his face, holding his cheek, accidentally staining it with his own blood. “Don’t— don’t leave me here, please, I just got you back,” she pleads, glassy eyes blurring with tears. She thinks, honestly, that this is the first time she’s talking to just Luke, free of Kronos’ influence, since he’d stolen that lightning bolt from Olympus years ago. It’s the Luke she remembers, the one she so sorely missed.

He laughed quietly, reaching up to touch her fingers. Even now, as she was sobbing over him, unable to look him in the eye, she’s the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her lips were so plump — as if made to be kissed, even in this moment of peril. “The gods might not want me, but I’m glad they’ve given you to me,” he whispered, squeezing her hand in his again. “I’m dying, Y/N. You can’t save me.” This makes her squeeze her eyes closed, shaking her head lightly, as if she isn’t listening. She isn’t, not really.

“No, nononono— stop that,” She cries, her eyes squinting shut in an effort to banish her tears, but it doesn’t work. “I’m— I’m the daughter of Thanatos, damn it, what good am I if I can’t do this? If I can’t keep just one person alive?” She seems to be talking mostly to herself, not giving up her mission on keeping him with her. Not after everything that’s been said, not with everything that’s being left unsaid. “I know this isn’t what I do, that I’m not a fucking sunshiney Apollo kid who can heal someone on a whim. But this is kinda my thing, is it not? Just… Just one. Please, let me save just this one. I’ll never ask for anything again.” She’s looking up at the sky— praying, it looked like, while blinking away her own tears. She couldn’t remember the last time she prayed to the gods for anything, but she was now. To anyone who would listen, though Luke gets the sneaking suspicion she’s talking to her father. The one she blamed, for being unable to save anyone. She couldn’t heal, the best she could do was sit by and watch.

Luke laughed again, but it’s humorless— and it was so cruel, to die when he could feel his heartbeat quickening as Y/N was so close, her lips so near to his, her eyes so lovely. He wished he could kiss her right now, in this moment, on the marble floor, with blood running over his fingers and the dagger still next to them.

“Y/N, promise me one thing?”

“Anything,” Y/N nods softly, her attention turning back to him. She hates how the simple act of saying her name still affected her so much, after all this time. Her tears were cutting through the grime on her face from a hard fought battle, covered in her own and the blood of others, trembling. Still, she finds it in her to make a promise to the dying boy she loved. “Anything. Just—“ she drifts off, nodding, knowing they don’t have time. Luke took a breath, his eyes fluttering shut. For the first time in his life, he genuinely felt like a young man. A teenage boy, holding his girlfriend's hand and wanting nothing but her to keep safe. For a moment, he can pretend. But only for a moment. His breath hitched, and slowly, he felt the life fading from his body — as if it was being drawn from him like water in a cup. He hesitates to speak, but knows he’s running out of time. He can feel it, being sapped from his bones. But in spite of that, he’s not… afraid. He isn’t angry. He almost isn’t even in pain. He thinks it’s her, that it’s Y/N’s aura as a daughter of Thanatos, that no one in her vicinity will feel pain, a divine remainder of her father’s power flowing in her veins, the guide to the underworld, before they’d meet the ferryman. A walking shot of morphine. He’s heard stories from his spies, about how when Camp would lose a camper during their fight with Kronos— with him—, Y/N would stay with them until they passed, holding their hand, telling stories, bringing them peace, so they would go out with a kind face. Much like she was doing now, for him. The Thanatos of the waking world, the guiding light to death. It’s much more than he deserves, and he knows it.

"Promise me.... you'll meet me again... at the River Styx," He whispered.

“I’ll find you in Elysium.” She promises softly through sniffles, brushing his hair out of his face, a forced soft smile on her own face. She wants him to go out peacefully, wants to remember her smiling, even if she wants to scream at the sky and cry until she couldn’t breathe anymore. She’d been pretty good at it, feigning calmness and serenity with the campers they lost on their own side. It made their passing easier. But this? With him? She doesn’t know if it does. He’d always been far too good at reading her, for that. “I swear it, on the Styx, that I’ll find you in Elysium.” She sounds sure of herself, that even after everything he’d done, he’d earned a hero’s afterlife. That’s what the prophecy said, after all, right? Somehow, she knows she, too, will find herself with a hero’s death. Life wouldn’t be so kind to allow her to die of old age. She’d die hard, with a sword in her hand, and anger in her heart. Luke's eyes flickered open to meet the softness of hers, of lips he wanted to taste, of skin he wanted to cover with kisses. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of mourning the future he could’ve had with this girl, if he hadn’t been so hellbent on his never ending quest for glory.

Kleos. The word feels like poison, now. Maybe it always had been.

"No —" He whispered, head shaking lightly, "I won't be in Elysium. I’ll go to Asphodel—" He choked. That's where he'd likely be, being punished for his treason. It’s the least he deserved, after everything he’d done. "— and then the Fields of Punishment. But promise me... that you will wait for me, at the River."

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, adamant. He should probably take her word for it— she’s the daughter of the god of death, after all. She had a sense for these things. “Elysium. I’m sure of it. You’ve earned it.” She promises, tone soft. She doesn’t mention how she’d never let her father live it down if anything else took place. She’d tear Hades apart herself, find his soul and bring him back, somehow. Like Orpheus and Eurydice, except she’d succeed. “Regardless— it doesn’t matter. I’ll always find you. No matter where you are, I’ll find you. I swear it.”

He laughed, and it was a sad one. He was so weak, so very weak, his eyes flickering once more, his hand squeezing hers as tightly as he could, wanting to burn her imprint into his flesh. "You are so stubborn, you know that? You always have been," he whispered. Images flash through his mind against his will— her face, always her face. When she’d learned of his betrayal, then later when he’d attempted to sway her to his side. When they would train together in the arena— camp’s two best swordsmen. When she’d have nightmares, constant images of the dead trying to use her, both for her powers and as revenge on her father, who they felt claimed them from the mortal plane far too soon, to crawl their way back to the world of the living, and how, terrified of closing her eyes again, she’d crawl into his bed with him, the only place she felt safe enough to fall back asleep. When she’d kissed him for the first time, on her seventeenth birthday. Because ‘most demigods don’t get to make it to seventeen, so I’m making seventeen count’, as she’d put it. Then, later that night, after his surprise wore off, when he had kissed her. It pains him to think about how he’d only been manipulating her, back then. Had he loved her? Sure, but his mission always seemed more important at the time. He’d do it for them, he’d told himself. The gods would regret every unclaimed child, and every claimed child resigned to the Hermes cabin because they weren’t born with the luxury of having a parent that had a throne on Olympus, one of the big twelve. For kids like Y/N. His hand slipped from hers, and he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. Instead, he'd watch her, as if he could lock her into his memory. "Will you... will you stay here with me, until my life..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

“Until the very end.” She promises softly, her voice cracking with the effort not to cry. She’d almost given up on trying to staunch the bleeding, one hand resting on his face, brushing languidly, lovingly, over his cheek, just around the edge of his scar. She’s not sure what possessed her in that moment, as she leans down, placing a soft, chaste, yet romantic kiss to his lips. After all, he’d been her first kiss, it felt fitting that she would also be his last. As she pulls away, she whispers against his lips, “I love you, Luke Castellan.”

He was breathless, the kiss like a dagger to the chest, biting deeper than the blade that will end up taking his life. In a matter of minutes, his heartbeat would skip its last beat, and her face will be the last he sees, the last thought on his mind. His hand came up to the back of her neck, holding her as he whispered in return, "... I love you too." He managed only that, before his heart failed him. He was gone, and he didn't make a sound.

Gone with a whimper, not a bang.

The blood that fell from his wound was now staining the pristine marble flooring beneath them, the last remnants of life and love, of devotion and betrayal. Y/N hoped that it would stain forever, a constant reminder of his sacrifice.

Y/N felt his final breath fan across her face, and she knew he was gone. Her eyes remained closed, steady tears rolling down her face, their foreheads pressed together. She can feel him growing cold as she sobs. “No,” She whimpers, his hands, now gone limp, still in hers. “No, please no—“ Vaguely, she’s aware of the rumbling of the ground under her feet, a telltale sign of her powers coming out to play, a throng of undead soldiers aching to burst past the earth’s mantle, to await her command. Her face screws up into an expression of anguish, though she forces the feeling down, knowing that if she didn’t reel in her own emotion, her legion of death wouldn’t hesitate to grab every demigod in her vicinity and drag them into the earth, to take their place in the afterlife. Maybe they’d take her, too. Maybe she hoped they would.

The thing about being the daughter of death, was that when a soul left a body and you were near enough to it, you could feel them leaving the mortal plane, accompanied by her father to the underworld. She could feel it, feel him, Luke’s soul leaving his body. She always did, with the campers they lost during the war, but this one hits too close to home. It’s a startling, chilling, terrifying feeling, that only makes her sob harder, knowing the boy she loved was now in her father’s hands, and out of her own. This was always the hardest part. “Take care of him for me, pops,” she whispers, voice trembling, knowing her father was with Luke’s soul right now, the pair watching over her mourning over Luke’s body. As that realization passes over her, she sits up straight, a ragged scream of mourning threatening to tear her vocal cords apart. In the background, she’s vaguely aware of the voice of Percy Jackson speaking,

“We need a shroud. A shroud for the son of Hermes.”

Notes: and with that, we’re done. This was super fun! I feel like I could go on forever about Luke x Grim Reader (I’m calling them deadwings/grimwings), and if there’s enough of a demand, I just might. Feedback is obviously appreciated !! Drink some water, hug a friend, and don’t forget to pirate PJO 🫶

#JAZZ HANDDSS #happy Friday have some soul shattering angst #and for my next trick I’ll disappear into obscurity never to be heard from again #jk #unless???#pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan angst #luke castellan x you #PJO angst #x reader #PJO imagine

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shamelessexplosions · 4 months

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What I've learnt about the Batfamily from Tumblr

I know nothing about Batman - I have never read a comic, I have never watched a Batman series or cartoon or movie with him in it (except from that one scene at the end of wonder woman). This is what I have learnt about the members of the Batfamily entirely from tumblr and other social media.

1. Bruce Wayne

Bruce Wayne is Batman, and his superpower is being richer than God.

He lives in a mansion in Gotham, which is basically a city entirely made up of psychos

He cannot stop adopting children

Like I'm pretty sure he sees a child on their own with a vaguely traumatic backstory and has to adopt them.

Probably carries adoption papers in his utility belt for that very purpose

I'm not entirely sure how many children he has but that's okay because I don't think he knows either.

When he's in the mask his voice is really deep and he keeps saying "I'm Batman"

When he's not he acts like a complete idiot but probably tips a waitress by paying for their collage tuition

His parents are dead and this is very important - in a world of orphans, he is THE orphan

2. Dick Grayson

Bruce Wayne's oldest adopted son

He was in the circus as an acrobat until his parents died in front of him

I think they were murdered

He was the original Robin

Then he got bored or something and moved to somewhere called bludhaven which honestly sounds Norwegian, and renamed himself Nightwing.

Has extreme big brother energy

3. Jason Todd

Robin #2 because apparently there's a second one

I think he met Bruce after stealing the tires off Batman's car (the batmobile?) and then hitting him with a tire iron which is such a power move, especially for some random kid

He died but it's ok because he fell in a pit and got better

He renamed himself red hood and became a mass murderer for a bit

I think it was just a phase?

He was trained in the way of murder by someone called Talia. He either slept with her or was adopted by her.

I hope it's the second one because I know Bruce slept with her

Likes guns

4. Tim Drake

I think he stalked batman until he found out he was Bruce Wayne

In other words this random kid did what no megalomaniac with a grudge against the furry that routinely beats them up could

But then I think he was Bruce's neighbour pre-adoption so maybe he just noticed batman flying out from under the mansion each night, which says something problematic about his secret identity

He became robin too like how many robins does one city need?

Jason refers to him as 'replacement' which seems cold given 1. He himself was a replacement and 2. tim got replaced as well

I think he's Red Robin now, so clearly not too interested in change.

5. Damien Wayne

Bruce's biological son with the aforementioned assassin/murder trainer Talia.

Was in something called the League of Assassins but left to find his father, which given the name is the League of Assassins sounds like a smart life choice

Talia may have sent Damien to Bruce so she didn't have to deal with a teenager, but it also sounds like he left after an argument with his grandfather and League head-honcho Ra's so not sure whats going on there

Also Robin but I think at this point someone is taking the piss - possibly Batman

Feral Child(tm)

Likes swords

6. Cassandra (Cassie/Cass) Cain?

Maybe her surname is cain? Or maybe it's not?

I'm really confused because I'm pretty sure there is both a Cass and a Cassie in the Child-soldier Justice League and I think one of them is a bat-family member and one of them has something to do with Wonder Woman and they may or may not be the same person

Was an assassin involved in the same organisation as Jason and Damien

Is this where Bruce Wayne is finding his kids?

Was a Robin too (yay for feminism, boo for originality? Get some other names for your feral murder children Bruce)

Now called Spoiler and likes purple

May have at one point been batgirl?

7. Duke ???

Honestly I have no idea, I've just seen his name a couple of times

He was probably Robin at some point - they all appear to have been Robin at some point

I think he likes the colour yellow

8. Stephanie Brown

Another person that I have only vaguely seen the name of

She might have dated one of the batkids, Tim maybe?

May or may not be a batkid herself

May be batgirl, or maybe that was Cassandra, or maybe both. There have been so many robins nothing would surprise me

9. Barbara (Babs) Gordon

Daughter of a police commissioner

hacker

Her father may or may not be aware of her extracurriculars, but Commissioner Gordon has a massive flashlight for summoning batman when he needs help with a case so I don't think he has any room to talk

Goes by Oracle

Not a proper batkid but I doubt that stops her being on the family Christmas card

May have at one point been a Batgirl?

But at this point I'm just guessing everyone was batgirl

Maybe Duke was batgirl!

May use a wheelchair but I'm not certain

10. Alfred Pennyworth

Indeterminate age, may be immortal

Bruce's bulter

Raised Bruce Wayne, but still calls him 'Master Bruce'

Also refers to the batkids as 'master xx'

May or may not be sarcasm

English, ex-army and all-round exceedingly polite badass

Correction, he's English, I can say with confidence it is sarcasm

That is all the people I can think of, sorry if I missed anyone

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homunculus-argument · 1 year

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Random scene of a fantasy story that I won't incorporate anywhere:

A military camp is being overseen by a representative of the royal family - not the crown prince, but the other one, who has been sickly his whole life. It's known that he will never carry a sword and won't likely ever rule in his own name, and he has poured his dedication to academic studies, from ethics to maths, preparing to be the highest bookkeeper, master of taxes and royal finances, and - if duty so calls - a philosopher king.

The prince is known to use a cane, sometimes crutches to get by, and for days such as this one, when he cannot walk at all, there is a chair with wheels.

Standing in a row within sight of the prince's entourage, but firmly out of earshot, one of the commanders lets out a baffled, mocking scoff at the sight of the prince. He remarks to the men around him that he would rather be dead than live in such a condition, that a man should be able to fight in order to be called a man at all. While the common soldiers around say nothing regardless of what they think either of the commander's stance nor the prince, the commander's right-hand man speaks up, asking whether the commander would prefer to be killed on spot, if he ever were injured in battle but didn't immediately die.

The commander answers yes, of corse, with the baffled airs of someone who had been asked a stupidly obvious question. To stress his words, he tells every soldier within earshot that if he is ever maimed past the point of ever fighting again, it is their duty to give him the mercy blow.

While nobody knows for sure where the name came from, this was actually the day when the commander gained the epithet The Warhorse of [his birth location]. Not because he is as strong, bold, fierce, disciplined or fearless as a well-trained war horse, but because he is as fragile as one: always one broken leg away from needing to be shot.

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nina-ya · 6 months

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May I please request a super angsty femReaderxzoro fic where reader dies trying to save zoro but in a really specific way as in she has devil fruit similar to uta but with healing abilities instead and she trades her life to save zoro which makes her have a death similar to rikas from jjk but the song she sing when she’s leaving is long live by Taylor Swift specifically “long live all the mountains we moved I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you” ect.If it’s too detailed, you don’t have to do it but I would really enjoy if you could do this

Long Live

A/N: Italics is a flashback and purple are the song lyrics I had so much fun writing this! well as much fun as you can have writing something sad, but thank you for giving me an excuse to write about more Taylor i hope you enjoy! <3 Pairing: Zoro x fem!reader CW: Reader dies, blood, vague alluding to sex WC: 2.1k Your voice had been a source of joy and happiness for as long as you could remember, and your devil fruit ability only heightened that joy, granting you the power to heal through your melodies. It felt like a gift straight out of a fairy tale. Cradling injured individuals in your arms, you would serenade them, witnessing their wounds miraculously vanish as they sprang up with newfound energy.

In your pursuit of understanding and enhancing your abilities, you dove into the histories of past users who once possessed this ability before you. While you didn't find much in terms of strengthening your powers, you stumbled upon something intriguing: the most recent user of your ability met their demise by sacrificing their life for a marine soldier. The event was well-documented—the tale of their final song and fading away into the unknown, all to save a critically wounded soldier. At the time, you found such sacrifice baffling and perhaps even foolish. The idea of willingly giving up one's life for another was a concept that had always left you questioning whether you could ever do such a thing.

You first encountered Zoro when he casually slid into the seat next to yours at a random, somewhat sketchy tavern on an island whose name had already slipped your memory. Ordering a beer, as expected, neither of you paid much attention to the other until you initiated a conversation, asking about the swords he carried with him. Drink after drink, the banter flowed effortlessly, and as the night progressed, so did the subtle hints of flirtation. Before you knew it, you found yourselves in the confines of the bathroom, Zoro pinning you against the wall, lips locked, hands exploring, clothes quickly discarded—an intense moment that seemed to mark the conclusion of your unexpected encounter. Or so you thought.

The next day, as you went about your business, you stumbled upon a wanted poster that featured none other than Roronoa Zoro, one of the most formidable and dangerous men in the world. The revelation left you torn between celebrating or worrying over the fact that you had just slept with one of the most deadliest men in the world right now. You had chosen the former.

Your lingering questions about whether you'd see him again were answered when, to your surprise, you spotted Zoro rounding a corner, seemingly lost and running in your direction. The unexpected reunion left you wondering about the twists and turns fate had in store for the two of you. He screeched to a halt in front of you, muttering something about being in the wrong place. You were on the verge of teasing him for looking like a lost fool when the unmistakable sounds of approaching marine footsteps and shouts pierced the air from behind. Without a moment's hesitation, Zoro swiftly unsheathed his swords, leaving you momentarily confused when he shoved one into his mouth. Your confusion gave way to surprise as marines in front of you began dropping like flies.

In the chaos, Zoro reached for your hand, grabbed it, and started running with you. Urgently, he asked you to lead him to the docks. Though an underlying sense of fear lingered, the idea of potential injury or worse, you couldn't help but go along with the green-haired man, guiding him through the streets towards the docks. The urgency of the situation fueled your pace, and as you turned a final corner, a grand pirate ship came into view. To your amazement, some very enthusiastic individuals, recognizable from the wanted posters plastered everywhere, were waving at Zoro and urging him to run onto the ship.

You might have assumed that Zoro would have let you go and abandoned you at some point, but to your surprise, he had you stick around. Soon enough, you found yourself on the deck of the pirate ship, met with perplexed and cautious stares from the crew. This wasn't the life you had envisioned, yet the appeal of friendship and adventures proved too compelling for you to resist.

As it turned out, your unique ability to heal with the simple power of song quickly earned you the role of healer on the ship. You often teamed up with Chopper, working together to mend the wounded, a category that frequently included Zoro. It seemed like he would intentionally find himself in dangerous situations just to give you an excuse to heal him. It became almost routine for Zoro to pull you aside for healing sessions. He would claim it was because "you're the faster healer" or "Chopper is busy with the others," but the way he stared at you with complete and utter infatuation as you sang hinted that there might be an underlying reason why he always sought you out.

Your relationship with Zoro had flourished during your time on the ship. While the two of you hadn't explicitly labeled it, an unspoken bond had formed, making you inseparable. It was clear to everyone around you that you and Zoro were meant to be. Your connection was so strong that it felt as if you were bound together for life. You, the enchanting songbird, had managed to melt the heart of the swordsman. It was a relationship that seemed almost too perfect to be true.

The shaky rhythm of Zoro's breath sliced through the air, the only accompaniment being the unsettling drip, drip, drip of crimson liquid splattering onto the floor from each painful gash on his body. His eyes threatened to give in to the darkness, the grip tampanoding his profusely bleeding wound weakening with every passing second, allowing more of the red tide to seep out. "She's close by," he reassured himself in a desperate whisper. "She will come and heal me, and everything will be okay." His vision blurred, the edges of consciousness fading, yet the approaching footsteps redirected his waning focus. Your silhouette emerged into view, and a feeble smile of relief played on his weakened lips.

You stood there, your body pulsating with the ache of injuries you had sustained from the battle. Exhaustion weighed heavily on your chest, each labored breath revealing your weariness. As you took in Zoro's dire state, a chill ran down your spine, and your hands trembled uncontrollably. The blood painted the wall against which he leaned, the pool he lay in enough to have claimed the life of an ordinary person by now.

In that moment, a wave of realization crashed over you, akin to what the previous user of your devil fruit must have experienced when confronted with the imminent death of that soldier. The only conceivable explanation for willingly sacrificing one's life in such a manner was love. Only someone who is deeply in love could find themselves doing what you were prepared to do.

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump—thump... thump... thump...

Your heart beats in your ears, slow and steady, a sharp contrast to the urgency that surrounds you. Crouching down next to him, your knees bathe in the blood beneath you. You reach out and stroke his face, your voice cutting through the tense air as a sweet melody falls from your lips, “Long live the walls we crashed through, I had the time of my life with you…”

Your vision blurs slightly as you start to sing, and your voice wavers, but determination fuels your every word. Zoro's consciousness begins to steady, and his gaze focuses on you. He listens to the lyrics you sing, his smile quickly fading as he senses your growing unsteadiness. His own heartbeat starts to quicken, mirroring the vivid recollection of the last time he was this severely injured.

Your fingers gently comb through the emerald strands of the injured marimo, the sound of your singing soothing his pain, mending the cuts and bruises that adorned him. As his eyes gradually flutter open from the haze of injury, he gazes up at you, a soft smile spreading across his lips upon hearing the sound of your voice. This time felt different from his previous injuries; there was an abundance of blood, and the worry etched across your face reflected the urgency to reach him in time.

You knew you couldn't stop singing. You needed to heal him, but you also needed to talk to him, so your song took on a more serious shift in meaning as you sang. "Will you take a moment? Promise me this: that you’ll stand by me forever," you begin, your voice carrying a weight that matches the importance of this moment. His larger hand envelops yours, nodding in silent agreement. You continue, "but if, God forbid, fate should step in and force us into a goodbye," confusion knits Zoro's eyebrows, wondering the reason behind the unexpected shift in your melody.

You persist, “if you have children someday, when they point to the pictures, please tell them my name.” Your voice grew shaky as you continued, “Tell them how I hope they shine." Teardrops fall onto his concerned face, and he instinctively reaches up to wipe them away. The inevitability of this conversation weighed heavily on both your hearts, each word spoken a painful acknowledgment of the uncertainties life may hold.

In response, Zoro reassures you with a resolute voice, "I promise to stay with you forever, but you know fate won't dare step in and tear us apart. I won't allow it. You’re too important to me, and I swear that we will live out the rest of our lives together, and *you* will get to tell our kids all of these things, okay?" His words, a promise fueled by determination, aim to chase away the uncertainty of what lies ahead, providing comfort in the tomorrow that they both look forward to.

It's happening. Fate weaves its cruel design, guiding you toward that goodbye—a scenario Zoro strongly vowed would never come to pass. “Long live the walls we crashed through, how the kingdom lights shined just for me and you,” you continue, your voice quivering with an emotional strain that mirrors the tension in the air. The aura that your powers provide seem to shimmer with an magical quality as Zoro's wounds gradually fade, mirroring the slow, inescapable dimming of your own presence.

Your body slumps over, a proof of the draining strength within you. Stronger hands, Zoro's calloused and desperate, grasp your arms, pulling you close in a desperate attempt to defy the approaching reality. A gasp escapes you, the sound of your body's instinctive cling towards life.

“Stop… Stop this… I—I’m fine now, see? Chopper can just fix us up; you can stop now,” Zoro pleads, his voice quivering, the tremor reverberating through the air. His lip wobbles, tears teetering on the edge of escape. He knows the words he's uttering form a desperate attempt to go against the harsh reality. In this wretched moment, he attempts to make you hold onto your own life, to discourage you from the selfless act of sacrificing yourself to mend his wounds. Yet, the heavy truth hangs in the air—a truth that your fading form seems to convey with every passing moment.

Your breath is shaky, and a sudden weariness envelops you. Yet, his pleas, laced with unspoken desperation, don't deter you. ”Long live the walls we crashed through, how the kingdom lights shined just for me and you,” you sing softly, leaning onto him, a somber smile gracing your lips despite the impending farewell.

“Please stop…I love you, please don’t do this…” Zoro's whisper is almost a plea, his voice breaking as tears fall freely. He grasps your hand, squeezing it with a desperation that clings to the diminishing hope that both of you can somehow emerge unscathed from this ordeal.

“And I was screaming, ‘Long live all the magic we made’ and bring on all the pretenders…” Another wave of weakness washes over you, and your head falls limp onto his shoulder, “I'm not afraid.” you murmur, hoping the reassurance in your words might alleviate some of the weight on his shoulders among the unfolding tragedy. ”Long live all the mountains we moved…I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you.” With that final line, your voice softens, the melody fading into a whisper as your breaths grow shallower. The grip of Zoro's hand on yours tightens, desperately clinging to the waning connection. With each passing moment, your form dissolves into an ethereal glow. In desperation, Zoro reaches into the empty space that you once occupied, his trembling fingers grasping at nothingness, a denial of the harsh reality that you are gone. The ringing of your song linger in the hollow space, a haunting reminder of a love transcended beyond the boundaries of existence. Zoro, left with an aching emptiness, is now entangled in the flickers and fragments of a love that slipped away.

#one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #angst #one piece zoro #zoro roronoa x reader

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nonasemporium · 30 days

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character meme 2 electric boogaloo: awake remembrance of these valiant dead!!!

send me a character [Commander Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead Kia Hua Ko Te Pai Snap Back to Reality Oops There Goes Gravity] and i’ll list:

favorite thing about them: I love her rage, I love her justice, I love her determination, I love that she forces John to say her full name, that she rejects everyone's attempts to twist her. I love her passion, her meanass laugh, her fucking commitment. If something's gonna get done, she's gonna do it.

least favorite thing about them: I get why she was doing what she was doing, but smashing a baby into the wall is very battle of Troy of her lmao. Same with teaching Pash to be a child soldier. I get it though, she's living in a horror where the alternative is worse.

favorite line: When she demands John say her name, when she says G1deon deserves that at least, the line about her nose, the line about her meanass laugh, the fact she called Gideon "Bomb", crying about all of it.

brOTP: Love her proud auntie vibes at Pash, but actual brOTP is probably with We Suffer, lmao. Idk it just seems like the kind of history that fits both of them.

OTP: G1deon/Wake/Pyrrha <33333 Literally OT3 of TLT for me, I love it so much. Pyrrha being bold enough to kiss her but apologizing, Wake not letting that go, not taking the bait to just kill her, nah, she's going to let her live with that, they're going to be something so explosive.... Then her realizing the ways G1deon and Pyrrha are separate, loving them both, perhaps even learning to love G1deon through conversations with Pyrrha over him as well, the way it must ache for Pyrrha so so deeply, punishment and relief. The way Wake talked about them till the end. The trust but also the knowledge that it only goes so far. The way she knew what G1deon was and she knew what Pyrrha was and ugh.

nOTP: Keep John the fuck away from her unless she's killing him, thanks. Love she got the last laugh, may she get more.

random headcanon: That she has a toothgap, that she has freckles, that she has two laughs--one where her teeth are bared like a threat and one where instead her cheeks fold up her eyes cutely. I also think that despite everything, she did have a fondness for Gideon in her own way, for "Bomb." There's something in naming a thing, there's something in the fact Gideon was initially a sacrifice for her but also meant to be a sacrifice for everyone. That she carried her under her heart for all those months ready to sacrifice her for the literal world, putting her body on the line but also like. She's actually a very loving person. Her rage is the rage of someone who despises injustice, her rage is the rage of someone who has plenty to lose, her rage is the rage of someone who has a people that need her. And this horrible little thing she grew in her despite not having the plans for it--she had to think about what made it worth it and you know what made it worth it? That this baby was meant to end the suffering of THEIR people, that this baby would be the key to kill the father, that this baby was where all their hope was placed, that this baby had to carry all the "sins" of both sides of this war, do you think she ever had a moment wondering if the baby, if this little Bomb, this little flesh of her flesh and blood of his blood, would forgive any of them for it? I think also of her trapped body and trapped soul, of her in that sword, how that sword in Harrow's hands was furious, was rejecting, but how in Gideon's was a weird comfort. How Gideon went to her bones, forced to labor under these people she fucking despised, do you think she heard Gideon? Do you think she heard Gideon speak to her bones, do you think she felt Gideon's prayers for a mother, do you think that fury she had was also the fury that this weird thing that she had never intended to have was being twisted to serve the empire she was going to be sacrificed to destroy? He deserved that at least, she said about G1deon. He deserved that at least, so what does Gideon deserve? The language was dehumanizing but not without fondness. Wake just seems so much the type of person, the kind of resolute and almost-humorous who might accidentally get a spot, soft and tender deep in--she said she carried Gideon under her heart. Under her heart. She didn't say in her gut, she said under her heart. And under her heart, I really think there's a tiny part of her still there for Gideon, for Bomb, for the thing that maybe in another life could've just been her and G1deon's weird little explosive tyke. In another life, that could've been the shitty love child of her goofy ass situationship and that little thing could've held Pash's machete and learned to build bombs to take down the Houses, or in another life outside of that, in a life without Jod at all, maybe that thing could've just been a gap-toothed kid with a meanass laugh and no need to carry the fate of humanity. I think of how Wake is Mary. How Gideon is the Jesus she has to give up for humanity, that she was fully prepared to give up, but I also think of how Wake gave herself up as well. Pregnancy is incredibly difficult, and in the end she was killed--not necessarily by her actual pregnancy, but. I just have a lot of emotions. When she was preparing herself to sacrifice Gideon, to sacrifice "Bomb," do you think a fondness grew specifically to how this baby was meant to save them? Do you think she thought "at least if this kid is going to have my dna, it's going to use that to take this fucker down finally," do you think coming so close made that little bit of potential pride slip in? And then she's her sword and her bones are on those fields and not only is her body made slave, her soul made bound, but all that fucking hope is chained down alongside her, stripped from any knowledge, any fucking purpose, molded instead for the very thing she carried it to destroy. Emotions.

unpopular opinion: Apparently that I see her as Black, lmao, it was from the description of her hair and nose, which doesn't have to mean Black, but it's how I see her.

song i associate with them: Okay well obviously fucking 'Lose Yourself' by Eminem, boo, tomato tomato, but another one that maybe isn't as often tied to her is 'Wygd' by Empara Mi. For funsies, I also do literally always associate her with 'Are You That Somebody' by Aaliyah. Darlin, I know you wanna light me up~

favorite picture of them: I'll post my sketch here because I do like showing part of how I see her, even if I may never clean up or do more with the sketch, but also I love this and this (sobbing about baby Bomb).

#Commander Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead Kia Hua Ko Te Pai Snap Back to Reality Oops There Goes Gravity #Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead Kia Hua Ko Te Pai Snap Back to Reality Oops There Goes Gravity #Commander Wake #tlt wake #awake remembrance of these valiant dead #love her lol

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menalez · 6 months

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this article is so illuminating and shows why so many of us believe this is a genocide-- according to the own words of IDF soldiers and israeli govt and their actions. they are admitting repeatedly that they sometimes target civilian areas and civilians and cultural heritage sites intentionally, knowing hamas is not there, in a twisted attempt of turning creating civil pressure on hamas.

Compared to previous Israeli assaults on Gaza, the current war — which Israel has named “Operation Iron Swords,” and which began in the wake of the Hamas-led assault on southern Israel on October 7 — has seen the army significantly expand its bombing of targets that are not distinctly military in nature. These include private residences as well as public buildings, infrastructure, and high-rise blocks, which sources say the army defines as “power targets” (“matarot otzem”). The bombing of power targets, according to intelligence sources who had first-hand experience with its application in Gaza in the past, is mainly intended to harm Palestinian civil society: to “create a shock” that, among other things, will reverberate powerfully and “lead civilians to put pressure on Hamas,” as one source put it.

theyre literally intentionally terrorising and killing palestinian civilians hoping it will somehow cause palestinians to somehow do the job of getting hamas for israel. instead of actually just.......idk.......trying to get hamas.

Several of the sources, who spoke to +972 and Local Call on the condition of anonymity, confirmed that the Israeli army has files on the vast majority of potential targets in Gaza — including homes — which stipulate the number of civilians who are likely to be killed in an attack on a particular target. This number is calculated and known in advance to the army’s intelligence units, who also know shortly before carrying out an attack roughly how many civilians are certain to be killed. In one case discussed by the sources, the Israeli military command knowingly approved the killing of hundreds of Palestinian civilians in an attempt to assassinate a single top Hamas military commander. “The numbers increased from dozens of civilian deaths [permitted] as collateral damage as part of an attack on a senior official in previous operations, to hundreds of civilian deaths as collateral damage,” said one source. “Nothing happens by accident,” said another source. “When a 3-year-old girl is killed in a home in Gaza, it’s because someone in the army decided it wasn’t a big deal for her to be killed — that it was a price worth paying in order to hit [another] target. We are not Hamas. These are not random rockets. Everything is intentional. We know exactly how much collateral damage there is in every home.”

the usage of "we are not hamas" to say that they are intentionally choosing to kill civilians instead of doing so at random is.. insane. "we are not hamas" should be followed by being more humane, not.. "we decided killing hundreds of palestinian civilians is worth it to get 1 single hamas member!"

According to the sources, the increasing use of AI-based systems like Habsora allows the army to carry out strikes on residential homes where a single Hamas member lives on a massive scale, even those who are junior Hamas operatives. Yet testimonies of Palestinians in Gaza suggest that since October 7, the army has also attacked many private residences where there was no known or apparent member of Hamas or any other militant group residing. Such strikes, sources confirmed to +972 and Local Call, can knowingly kill entire families in the process.

so, unshockingly, they are sometimes killing everyone within a building over some potential 1 hamas member, and sometimes there isnt a singular hamas member known in that building. so it could just be purely civilians being killed.

Another source said that a senior intelligence officer told his officers after October 7 that the goal was to “kill as many Hamas operatives as possible,” for which the criteria around harming Palestinian civilians were significantly relaxed. As such, there are “cases in which we shell based on a wide cellular pinpointing of where the target is, killing civilians. This is often done to save time, instead of doing a little more work to get a more accurate pinpointing,” said the source.

so they can be more accurate and precise with their attacks, as should be obvious for a highly sophisticated military, but they decide its better to just kill thousands of civilians if it saves them time.

From the first moment after the October 7 attack, decisionmakers in Israel openly declared that the response would be of a completely different magnitude to previous military operations in Gaza, with the stated aim of totally eradicating Hamas. “The emphasis is on damage and not on accuracy,” said IDF Spokesperson Daniel Hagari on Oct. 9. The army swiftly translated those declarations into actions.

The third is “power targets,” which includes high-rises and residential towers in the heart of cities, and public buildings such as universities, banks, and government offices. The idea behind hitting such targets, say three intelligence sources who were involved in planning or conducting strikes on power targets in the past, is that a deliberate attack on Palestinian society will exert “civil pressure” on Hamas.

they are deliberately destroying palestinian culture and history and society, hoping it will somehow create more pressure on hamas. 0 regard for palestinians' well-beings and safety and existence and they keep saying this over & over again

The final category consists of “family homes” or “operatives’ homes.” The stated purpose of these attacks is to destroy private residences in order to assassinate a single resident suspected of being a Hamas or Islamic Jihad operative. However, in the current war, Palestinian testimonies assert that some of the families that were killed did not include any operatives from these organizations. In the early stages of the current war, the Israeli army appears to have given particular attention to the third and fourth categories of targets. According to statements on Oct. 11 by the IDF Spokesperson, during the first five days of fighting, half of the targets bombed — 1,329 out of a total 2,687 — were deemed power targets.

so half of their targets were specifically intended to terrorise palestinian civilians and weren't actually attacks on hamas.

“We are asked to look for high-rise buildings with half a floor that can be attributed to Hamas,” said one source who took part in previous Israeli offensives in Gaza. “Sometimes it is a militant group’s spokesperson’s office, or a point where operatives meet. I understood that the floor is an excuse that allows the army to cause a lot of destruction in Gaza. That is what they told us. “If they would tell the whole world that the [Islamic Jihad] offices on the 10th floor are not important as a target, but that its existence is a justification to bring down the entire high-rise with the aim of pressuring civilian families who live in it in order to put pressure on terrorist organizations, this would itself be seen as terrorism. So they do not say it,” the source added.

the goal of their destruction of residential buildings isn't even about getting a hamas member who may or may not be there, its terrorism against palestinians.

Various sources who served in IDF intelligence units said that at least until the current war, army protocols allowed for attacking power targets only when the buildings were empty of residents at the time of the strike. However, testimonies and videos from Gaza suggest that since October 7, some of these targets have been attacked without prior notice being given to their occupants, killing entire families as a result.

unshockingly its as palestinians in gaza have been saying: they get attacked with no warning and countless civilian deaths occur as a result.

According to the Israeli army, during the first five days of fighting it dropped 6,000 bombs on the Strip, with a total weight of about 4,000 tons. Media outlets reported that the army had wiped out entire neighborhoods; according to the Gaza-based Al Mezan Center for Human Rights, these attacks led to “the complete destruction of residential neighborhoods, the destruction of infrastructure, and the mass killing of residents.” As documented by Al Mezan and numerous images coming out of Gaza, Israel bombed the Islamic University of Gaza, the Palestinian Bar Association, a UN building for an educational program for outstanding students, a building belonging to the Palestine Telecommunications Company, the Ministry of National Economy, the Ministry of Culture, roads, and dozens of high-rise buildings and homes — especially in Gaza’s northern neighborhoods.

Yet despite the unbridled Israeli bombardment, the damage to Hamas’ military infrastructure in northern Gaza during the first days of the war appears to have been very minimal. Indeed, intelligence sources told +972 and Local Call that military targets that were part of power targets have previously been used many times as a fig leaf for harming the civilian population. “Hamas is everywhere in Gaza; there is no building that does not have something of Hamas in it, so if you want to find a way to turn a high-rise into a target, you will be able to do so,” said one former intelligence official.

they admit they use the excuse of hamas to justify attacking overwhelmingly civilian areas.

Indeed, according to sources who were involved in the compiling of power targets in previous wars, although the target file usually contains some kind of alleged association with Hamas or other militant groups, striking the target functions primarily as a “means that allows damage to civil society.” The sources understood, some explicitly and some implicitly, that damage to civilians is the real purpose of these attacks.

According to the doctrine — developed by former IDF Chief of Staff Gadi Eizenkot, who is now a Knesset member and part of the current war cabinet — in a war against guerrilla groups such as Hamas or Hezbollah, Israel must use disproportionate and overwhelming force while targeting civilian and government infrastructure in order to establish deterrence and force the civilian population to pressure the groups to end their attacks. The concept of “power targets” seems to have emanated from this same logic. The first time the Israeli army publicly defined power targets in Gaza was at the end of Operation Protective Edge in 2014. The army bombed four buildings during the last four days of the war — three residential multi-story buildings in Gaza City, and a high-rise in Rafah. The security establishment explained at the time that the attacks were intended to convey to the Palestinians of Gaza that “nothing is immune anymore,” and to put pressure on Hamas to agree to a ceasefire. “The evidence we collected shows that the massive destruction [of the buildings] was carried out deliberately, and without any military justification,” stated an Amnesty report in late 2014.

Not only has the current war seen Israel attack an unprecedented number of power targets, it has also seen the army abandon prior policies that aimed at avoiding harm to civilians. Whereas previously the army’s official procedure was that it was possible to attack power targets only after all civilians had been evacuated from them, testimonies from Palestinian residents in Gaza indicate that, since October 7, Israel has attacked high-rises with their residents still inside, or without having taken significant steps to evacuate them, leading to many civilian deaths. Such attacks very often result in the killing of entire families, as experienced in previous offensives; according to an investigation by AP conducted after the 2014 war, about 89 percent of those killed in the aerial bombings of family homes were unarmed residents, and most of them were children and women.

However, evidence from Gaza suggests that some high-rises — which we assume to have been power targets — were toppled without prior warning. +972 and Local Call located at least two cases during the current war in which entire residential high-rises were bombed and collapsed without warning, and one case in which, according to the evidence, a high-rise building collapsed on civilians who were inside.

therefore palestinian civilians are being killed without even being given warnings, just for the sake of terrorising other palestinians and hopefully pressuring hamas.

Six days later, on Oct. 31, the eight-story Al-Mohandseen residential building was bombed without warning. Between 30 and 45 bodies were reportedly recovered from the ruins on the first day. One baby was found alive, without his parents. Journalists estimated that over 150 people were killed in the attack, as many remained buried under the rubble. The building used to stand in Nuseirat Refugee Camp, south of Wadi Gaza — in the supposed “safe zone” to which Israel directed the Palestinians who fled their homes in northern and central Gaza — and therefore served as temporary shelter for the displaced, according to testimonies.

so theyre also attacking "safe zones".

According to an investigation by Amnesty International, on Oct. 9, Israel shelled at least three multi-story buildings, as well as an open flea market on a crowded street in the Jabaliya Refugee Camp, killing at least 69 people. “The bodies were burned … I didn’t want to look, I was scared of looking at Imad’s face,” said the father of a child who was killed. “The bodies were scattered on the floor. Everyone was looking for their children in these piles. I recognized my son only by his trousers. I wanted to bury him immediately, so I carried my son and got him out.” According to Amnesty’s investigation, the army said that the attack on the market area was aimed at a mosque “where there were Hamas operatives.” However, according to the same investigation, satellite images do not show a mosque in the vicinity.

independent investigations are finding inconsistencies between IDF claims and reality.

According to the IDF Spokesperson, by Nov. 10, during the first 35 days of fighting, Israel attacked a total of 15,000 targets in Gaza. Based on multiple sources, this is a very high figure compared to the four previous major operations in the Strip. During Guardian of the Walls in 2021, Israel attacked 1,500 targets in 11 days. In Protective Edge in 2014, which lasted 51 days, Israel struck between 5,266 and 6,231 targets. During Pillar of Defense in 2012, about 1,500 targets were attacked over eight days. In Cast Lead” in 2008, Israel struck 3,400 targets in 22 days. Intelligence sources who served in the previous operations also told +972 and Local Call that, for 10 days in 2021 and three weeks in 2014, an attack rate of 100 to 200 targets per day led to a situation in which the Israeli Air Force had no targets of military value left. Why, then, after nearly two months, has the Israeli army not yet run out of targets in the current war?

Israeli analysts have admitted that the military effectiveness of these kinds of disproportionate aerial attacks is limited. Two weeks after the start of the bombings in Gaza (and before the ground invasion) — after the bodies of 1,903 children, approximately 1,000 women, and 187 elderly men were counted in the Gaza Strip — Israeli commentator Avi Issacharoff tweeted: “As hard as it is to hear, on the 14th day of fighting, it does not appear that the military arm of Hamas has been significantly harmed. The most significant damage to the military leadership is the assassination of [Hamas commander] Ayman Nofal.”

i did not share all of the article so u can feel free to read all of it but it just confirms what many of us know to be the horrific and cruel acts of the IDF.

#genocide #palestine #israel #free gaza

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catre33 · 4 months

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the myth of Perseus

So basically, this man Acrisius -- who's arguably the king of Argolis -- only has one daughter. No sons. And he's freaking out, so he goes to this oracle like 'how tf am I gonna get a male heir?!'. The oracle doesn't really help, he's kindof a Debby Downer. He says that Acrisius will have no sons, and that his grandson will kill him. Acrisius is freaking out more, and he tries to prevent this by locking up his only daughter Danae. But no brazen doors can stop Zeus when he's horny, so BOOM. Perseus is born.

Thus, Acrisius is just not having a good life. He doesn't believe that it was Zeus who got his daughter pregnant, he thinks it's his twin brother, the one who had it out for Danae before. And he doesn't want to kill his daughter, who would do that? So (and this is the part Sally talks about) he locks her up AGAIN in a wooden chest/ark/whatever and yeets her into the sea.

The box floats toward Seriphos, and Dictys, a fisherman, nets it. He opens it to find Danae and Perseus both still alive and he wheels them off to the king. So Perseus is raised in a royal household.

But not really a very good household.

See, the king is after Danae since the moment she arrives. His name is Polydectes, and unfortunately, he has the support of his subjects in pursuing Danae. Finally, Perseus is old enough to step in and protects his mom from the king.

The king gets plotting. Polydectes calls up all his friends and they all pretend he's gonna ask some other girl (Hippodameia, daughter of Pelops) to marry him. So he's going around the whole island asking everyone to contribute to his love-gift. He finally comes around to Perseus and asks him for a horse.

Perseus is like, 'Dude, I don't have a horse nor the means to get one. But, uh, since you're not trying to marry my mom anymore I can try to get you anything else. Even Medusa's head.'

Polydectes is like 'Yass, he'll die trying and then I can get his mom. I MEAN THat would please me greatly.'

So Perseus is off to go kill Medusa.

Athena hears what's going on and helps him out, then Hermes does the same.

But Perseus isn't ready yet, he's gotta get better equipped. He still needs winged sandals, something to carry the head in, and Hades' invisibility helmet. (aka the introvert hat) All three of these things are in the care of the Stygian nymphs, but no one knows where they live. Except the Graea (the Gray Sisters).

So he finds them at the foot of Atlas’ mountain and steals their tooth and eye, forcing them to tell him. Once he’s got all the stuff he drops the tooth and eye in the ocean for them to get.

He finds the swamp the gorgons live in, and all three are sleeping; Medusa, Stheno, and Euryale. So he backs in using the reflection in his shield, Athena guides his hand, and off comes her head. Out pop Chrysaor and Pegasus! Fully grown! And armed! Weird way to be born. Perseus runs off before the new dudes can wake their aunties to go chase after him, so he escapes.

Now, he’s on his way back towards Seriphos. While traveling he sees this lady chained to a seacliff and falls in love with her. As he’s flying over (using the winged sandals) he sees the girls’ parents: Cassiopeia and Cepheus. That’s right, here’s Andromeda!

He asks what’s going on and they both explain that an oracle told them that sacrificing Andromeda to this sea monster was the only way to keep from being attacked and flooded by said sea monster.So he goes, ‘Hang on, I can get rid of the sea monster. If I do, can I marry Andromeda?’

And her parents are like ‘Uhm, suuuuurreeeee… haha….’

So he goes and kills the sea monster, slicing its head off.

The wedding is to happen immediately so he can continue on his travels, but in bursts this completely random dude, Agenor. Cassipeia shouts that Perseus must die. Turns out, Andromeda’s parents had already promised Agenor HE could marry her. But Andromeda is sticking by Perseus.

Perseus fights off as many soldiers as he can with his sword, and then he just petrifies the rest of them.

AND OFF THEY GO.

So he’s flying back to Seriphos with his new wife in tow. He lands, and he calls for Polydectes like ‘ay I got your gift.’ Polydectes is confuzzled and PISSED. He’s like ‘Umm I don’t BELIEVE YOU show me.’ Perseus is a little worried he says ‘well, uh, are you sure???’ ‘YEA YEA JUST SHOW ME’ aaaaand Polydectes and his entire court end up petrified.

And they all live okay for a while the end.

My point in this is the fact that Perseus used Medusa’s head to save both his mom and his love. Sound familiar???

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singswan-springswan · 5 months

Text

Reasons to watch Justice League: War (2014)

free on tubi

absolute banger start with Dry Humor Hal

"Batman is real????"

once again we bring you speculation of Batman Turned Villain?/Is He Abducting Random Civilians Or Is That Just Parademons?

We have Green Lantern thinking Batman's a cryptid right out of the gate then going "wait you're not just some guy in a bat costume, right?" while Batman gives him a deadpan stare and Green Lantern weeps and also they are in the sewers

Bruce "I make it my business to know" Wayne, for your consideration

Billy Batson conning his way into a football game

Billy Batson being a fan of Victor Stone??? and stealing his jersey

Victor is a nice young gentlemen to everyone except his father, with whom he devolves into Indignant Gremlin and will Break Things watch out

Flash and Victor's dad being friends

poor Barry went and got burritos for EVERYONE and SOMEONE STOLE HIS

Green Lantern and Batman already hate each other's guts

Bruce stole Green Lantern's ring just to be feral and made fun of him for it

✨Utility Belt✨

space cop Green Lantern

Superman's costume is so sexy

testosterone overdose with Green Lantern, Batman, and Superman all in the same scene: 368 dead, 1,590 injured. Obligatory catfight between those three while also there are hostile parademon soldiers flying around everywhere

Bruce stopping Superman in his tracks by saying his name quietly

Clark just staring at Batman for a second, then: "Bruce Wayne??"

"who's Bruce Wayne?" help

Diana publicly coerces a man into admitting that he cross-dresses as her and it makes him feel powerful while standing in the middle of a hostile mob on her way to meet the american president

3 seconds later she decides to ditch the president and go get ice cream

Diana thinks ice cream is The Best

Diana makes friends with Hannah and adopts her on the spot

🚨Flash and Green Lantern bromance!!🚨

"Batman is real????"

Diana is Bloodthirsty.

oops victor got yeeted. maybe he shouldn't have touched that glowing alien space box in his dad's lab

Billy's gonna fight demons in his backyard alone at night with a baseball bat which in no way seems saf--⚡SHAZAM⚡

squad is so lit my dudes

actually they are so cool together

the writers were clearly Clark/Diana shippers because man there was SO MUCH chemistry between those two

Diana gets to stab Darkseid in the eyeball with her sword :3

Barry gets to stab the other eyeball with a crowbar :3

Batman tells Green Lantern he's normal and then disguises himself as a civilian in .002 seconds and promptly hitches a ride on a parademon like he's hailing a fricking taxi and gets carried off into the night, leaving the rest of the heroes to hold the line while he tries to rescue Superman from wherever he got portal-ed off to single-handedly BRUCE SHUT UP

Green Lantern is really bad at giving speeches. but like. it's funny

Everyone kicks alien butt

Bruce does, in fact, end up saving Superman single-handedly

Victor is soooo OP

Diana punches Captain Marvel through a wall and shoves her sword in his face and says "you are a warrior, not a child! act like it!" LIKE NO MA'AM HE'S LITERALLY TEN YEARS OLD

Captain Marvel does not stop flirting with Diana throughout the time they work together

Green Lantern said "I like trains"

lads I am not joking about how cool the squad is

Victor has bad reception so he flies into the clouds. pray

Victor finds out Captain Marvel is actually an infant and lets him keep the jersey. Billy cracks jokes about his arm being a cannon

Diana calls them all gods. she said Batman is Hades. send help.

Sean Astin voices Captain Marvel

I'm not the biggest fan of the way they drew Superman's face. it's too shaped. BUT the rest of the animation is so spirited and vibrant. storyboard and choreography is phenomenal, not to mention the cinematography! amazing animation

Batman, to Green Lantern: let them think we're friends so the cops don't get me

dialogue is so much fun and so rich. no lines wasted. full to bursting with wit and humor

exposition is breathtaking, considering the time frame they were working with. I'm honestly floored. they took an hour of screen time and made it feel more than twice as long. holy kriff, that's some masterful storytelling right there

this film had more character development for a cast of seven than most modern movies--and some shows--have for one character

excellent voice acting

completely stand-alone; can be watched and thoroughly enjoyed without any prior knowledge

#justice league: war #dc animated movies #gritty animation #please go watch it #it makes the happy chemicals in your brain #trigger warning for alien guts tho #lots of that

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hankwritten · 1 year

Note

24 for bnb cause it has bnb written all over it

24. How do their personalities affect their relationship? Do their characteristics compliment each other, or clash often?

Without checking the ask game, I saw your message and assumed "oh that's the breakup one isn't it" but their conflicting personalities is even more Them.

They're more alike than they are different. Two extroverted dudes who love fighting, explosions, and booze--but because their personalities rarely clash, they're less equipped to handle it when it does happen. (Most of their fights revolve around minor, pedantic things that they solve quickly. They're usually just excuses to get jokingly worked up and then put the other in a noogie until he admits he's wrong.)

Early in their relationship, Demo would have a lot of Bad Days where he'd act reclusive and snappish for no reason. Soldier was very understanding, letting Demo take his time and being supportive in his own Soldier-y way, but as Demo's built up a better emotional support network (Soldier + his own team) the Bad Days have gone down, Soldier still tends react that way to every minor sign of non-enthusiasm. Demo's every so slightly less outgoing than Soldier, and some days he does just want to hang around the mansion relaxing; Soldier gets ruffled, thinks its a Bad Day, which leads Demo to getting annoyed because it feels like he can't have a single moment of downtime without his partner fussing over him. Sometimes he vents that frustration, but he also knows this is coming from Soldier really really caring about him and trying to make sure he's not backsliding, so it doesn't come into a full blown argument very often.

Soldier tends to be more reserved with his emotions, especially in public. He spends every team meeting, every acquaintance introduction, every time they're waiting in line at the mall in his stiff, at-attention stance. Face completely unmoving (plus his resting disgruntled frown.) However that doesn't mean he isn't still a ball of sunshine under the surface. He may be stone still while Tavish explains a bunch of random facts about swords and quenching them to make sure they're not too brittle, but inside he's going "By George Washington...he's so handsome. I love him so much. I'm a lucky Soldier." Demo's somewhat disappointed Soldier won't be as affectionate with him while they're in public--even the casual camaraderie he does for everyone with, Soldier won't react when he slings an arm over his shoulder--but he learns to deal with it not being reciprocated. He's never been asked to stop, so he carries on like that.

#boots n bombs #ask game

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theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

Note

If you still need prompts: Nesta was banished to live outside the village and comes across an injured Cassian

I might write a part two to this as it was lots of fun!

The Exile and the Injured

Chosen one. Sacrificial lamb. Different sides of the same coin. Every twenty years, a maiden was chosen at random to be sent to the small cabin located near the Wall that separated the mortals from fae-kind. Those girls were banished until their screams could be heard in the dead of the night. Weeks later, the cabin would be checked; it was said that scratches were etched into the stone floor, claw marks traced into the wooden beams, and blood left permanent stains across the stoop. Nobody knew what took the girls – fae or a creature just as foul – but as long as the sacrifices happened, nothing stepped foot further than the forest, the harvest was always bountiful, and the winters mild.

Families prayed for sons. The Archerons had been cursed with three daughters, so when their name was the one selected, terror squeezed their father’s heart. Of the three, the middle was engaged to a handsome, young male of good status but she had already given her maidenhead to him; the youngest though wild and strong, had her fun rutting in the hay with a local boy and could not be chosen for the task. It left only the eldest to carry her people’s duty on her shoulders.

Nesta’s sisters wept on her final morning with them though the cold terror that ought to have numbed her, never came. The villagers prepared her, some saying prayers of thanks, some saying ones of mourning. Blessed-one. Cursed-one. Saviour. Victim. Being sent to her death had some perks at least: a hot bath had been drawn for her with fresh water only for her use. It had been filled with bubbles and pressed flowers. Women from the village combed her hair, buffed her nails, plucked her, massaged her then rubbed fragrant oil onto her body. A new gown had been produced solely for her; something like a wedding dress made of delicate white silk and spider-web gossamer fibres. A large spread of food was laid out solely for her; a final feast. It was more food than Nesta had eaten in all their years of poverty and she felt a stab of anger that she couldn’t fill her stomach with more to make up for all those bitterly cold nights of starvation.

When the dark night drew in, still the fear did not come. She was little more than a baby when the last girl had been damned. Her mother had witnessed two maidens taken and told her stories that the woman had wept and begged. That one had been carried into the woods and her own mother had collapsed from the horror of it. After a day spent amongst so many fussing women, Nesta was quite glad to have peace that night.

She was allowed a final goodbye to her family. Elain sobbed, Feyre fought to hide her tears, and their father lacked any words. That was no surprise. There was probably relief on his part that he and Nesta weren’t forced to share a roof anymore.

Nesta was accompanied through the dense wood by a group of soldiers either holding swords or torches to light the path. One recited ancient vows to her, confirming that if she tried to leave her cabin and return to her home, she and all of her family would be slaughtered. She was reminded that this was an honour. The stories were known to Nesta. Most maidens were dead within a couple of nights. Oddly, she found that she did not care. She had no prospects otherwise in their tired, little cottage. She had punched Tomas Mandray in the nose when he’d tried to rip her bodice from her – and he'd ensured she had a reputation in the village as a tempestuous wench so other men steered clear. A life as a lonely spinster or a sacrifice - what a selection.

There was no key for the cabin, but there was a bolt on the inside though she doubted it would be much of a defence. When the males left her alone, with a basket of food, Nesta let out a sigh of relief. The cabin was dusty, but liveable. Despite the night, she opened the single window and lit a couple of lamps. It had more space than their cottage, and only she would be sleeping in the bed tucked into the corner. There was a humble stove that looked as if it had never been used as well as a couple of pans, a set of cutlery, and a large carving knife. The sheets on the bed definitely needed to be washed tomorrow. There was even a bookshelf with a number of yellowed books on it. She’d devour those in a few days. It was odd to plan for a future when something would likely come to drag her off either tonight or the next, but Nesta was loathe to sit idle.

The dawn broke early. Blackbirds rustled in the tree outside, their song waking Nesta. She’d slept little, not through fear, but because she had been mentally cataloguing everything that needed to be done in the cabin. While porridge cooked on the stove, she swept the singular room and removed the cobwebs. The bed was stripped. She lugged a bucket of water from the stream and heated it to wash the sheets in. Without a line, she hung them from a tree to dry.

Time passed quickly; when she prepared dinner – more food than she’d ever had the luxury of eating in the past – she saved the seeds to plant in the soil she had tilled earlier. All those hours listening to Elain prattle on about her beloved garden had a use after all she supposed.

When night fell for the second time, Nesta lay on the clean bed only in her chemise reading a book. Animals scurried by outside, an owl hooted as it swept through the air, but no monster came to take her away. Nothing rattled the door or coaxed her from the cabin. So, when Nesta had read enough, she returned the book to the shelf and stretched out in bed, content to be alone.

Days passed. Every week, Nesta left out her basket and it would be replenished with food from the village. They were likely wondering – just as she was – how she still drew breath. Perhaps Nesta’s temper was even too much for a monster. She missed her sisters, sometimes, but mostly she was content to potter around at her own leisure. Daringly, she had asked for material and sewing supplies one week and they had arrived with the next week’s basket of supplies. Heavens forbid they upset the chosen one.

Autumn bled into the beginnings of winter. The food came less frequently now. Once, there had been a note ordering her to stop doing whatever it was she was doing to drive the creature away. In all the nights spent cloistered away in the woods, Nesta had not seen nor heard any signs of something sinister. Once, there had been a fox screaming but she chased after it with a broom and it soon kept away. Perhaps the other maidens had simply gone mad with boredom or loneliness. All Nesta knew was that she was alive still and keeping herself busy by sewing and writing. Her house was always tidy.

What she did lack, however, was an axe. When she had requested one from the village, she was informed that weapons were not allowed. She gathered fallen branches and snapped them into pieces, but the thicker ones were too strong for her. Much of the wood was damp and her stores ran low with the encroaching winter. She had been rationing her supplies with the anticipation of the colder weather, choosing to save the long-lasting ingredients for winter.

A thump woke her. The sheer force of it made the whole roof tremble. For a moment, Nesta thought a tree had fallen and braced her hands over her head for the roof to collapse.

In the distance, there were shouts. A low rumbling of men’s voices laced with the snarls of dogs. Could it be the monster had finally come? Or perhaps it had been, found Nesta lacking, and was approaching the village for a new maiden. But what was the thump?

Her heart beat quicker than usual as she gripped the carving knife and exited the cabin. The voices came from the south, from the mortal lands. Hesitantly, Nesta held her lamp out and began to search the perimeter of the cabin in only her boots, her cloak, and her night gown. Her rigorous modesty had faded with only herself for company.

There, hunched over on a side, was a man. Not a monster at all. A dim red light pooled from spots on his clothing. It was a strange sort of leathery skin.

‘Are you hurt?’

There was no response. She edged closer then recoiled with horror at the sight of his wings. Fae. Not a man. A male.

And the humans hunted him. Three large, ash arrows had shredded through his body.

Stories of the fae were ones used to scare children, she always believed. Still, she had always worn her iron bracelet. She’d expected him to look more other. Pointed teeth or black eyes or mottled skin. He was handsome in a rough sort of way. Ebony hair spilled over his face. Nesta held her hand close to his mouth and could feel he was breathing, slowly but detectable. She ought to have left him there. Ought to have gone back inside, pulled the covers up to her chin and forgotten about him. But she could not. She was transfixed by this fae male. By the beautiful, broken wings draped across the undergrowth.

The humans came closer. Not knowing why she did it, Nesta threw her cloak over the male’s clothing, blocking out the red glow. His eyes opened groggily. She pressed a finger to his lips. His hand gripped hers, keeping her finger on the soft skin of his lips. His own hand was warm, rough with callouses but still gentle.

The dogs would scent him, she realised with horror.

‘Stay,’ she whispered, not knowing if he could understand her tongue.

She strode forwards, holding her lamp aloft, meeting the humans near the ring of trees that surrounded the cabin.

‘Do you mind not waking me up in the middle of the night? It’s terribly rude.’

‘Move aside. There’s a fae in the woods.’

‘Maybe it is my beloved, here to drag me to Prythian.’

The male closest to her shifted slightly. The dog he was holding by a leash, pulled and whined.

‘It’s injured in these woods somewhere.’

‘You will ruin our land,’ she warned. ‘If there is a fae here, he has come to claim me. Your intervention will spell twenty years of bad luck on our people. Leave.’

They stared at her with a wary curiosity. Most women, she supposed, might have begged to be taken back to safety rather than usher in their demise. The threat of cursing the village had worked though. Although the dogs still tugged forwards, the men relinquished their pursuit.

‘He’ll die anyway,’ one said as they turned. ‘Tomas hit him twice, Ivorn a third time.’

Nesta waited until their footsteps died down before she approached the male. He’d sat upright, wincing slightly. One of the arrows had lodged itself in his shoulder after ripping through his wings, two more pierced the membrane.

‘Are you here to kill me?’

‘It wasn’t in my plans for the night, sweetheart.’ With a groan, he hauled himself to his feet. ‘You’re the one with the knife pointed at me. What are you doing out here in the woods at night?’

‘Witchcraft.’

The male cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘What are you really doing?’

‘Summoning a demon. And look, he hit my roof and woke me up.’

He rested a palm against the wooden cabin to steady himself. Each breath seemed to lance pain up his broad body.

‘You can’t fly,’ she realised.

He grimaced. ‘Not with these arrows in me.’ He reached around as if trying to snap one, but yelped with pain. ‘They’re ash. Typical mortals. You’ve always been savage creatures.’

The snarl in his voice did not scare her, even as the deep reverberations shook the ground.

‘I didn’t shoot you,’ she protested. ‘I’m the one stood in my nightgown while you wear my cloak protecting you. I’m waiting in this godforsaken cabin for one of your kind to kill me.’

That snapped him out of his rage. He glanced down at the grey cloak covering his glowing stones. He’d draped it over her shoulders before she could argue with him. His hand lingered around her upper arm, the warmth seeping through to her goosebump covered skin.

‘You should go inside. It’s too cold for you out here.’

His head bowed towards hers and Nesta realised exactly how tall this fae male was. His body caged hers against the cabin wall.

‘Do you want me to remove those arrows?’ Why was her voice so breathless? Why was her pulse hammering with thrill when it should have been quaking with fear?

‘Your husband won’t mind if you bring a handsome male home?’

‘Where is this handsome male you speak of? Will you introduce us?’

The fae tipped back his head in low laughter than sent a ripple of pleasure down Nesta’s spine. His hand gripped hers, inspecting the fingers and finding them absent of a wedding ring. She should have drawn her hand away. Shouldn’t have let him look at her with such an aching hunger.

‘Follow me.’

#nessian #one shot #the exile and the injured #nesta x cassian

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chibitantei · 6 days

Text

Mods asleep post rough Genpact AU ideas under the cut

Disclaimer: While I know the basics of what happens in the AQ for Sumeru and Fontaine, I’m not there yet, so there isn’t much I can really say. Currently need to start the Dain Chasm quest yippie

Naoto is from Inazuma, since it’s the Fantasy Japan of Teyvat. Excluding Watatsumi, Narukami seems to be the only island that has people living there—in spite of its weird layout, but I assume the game map is not to scale—so she lives there.

Much like canon, I don’t know where the estate would be, don't ask.

Her family would be moderately famous throughout Inazuma, like the Shiroganes in P4. Although I think they may have some light international acclaim in other nations, it's more for those related to law enforcement than the ordinary person. But I’m sure there’s a diehard detective fan somewhere in most nations.

Inazuma is based on the Tokugawa Shogunate/Edo era. During this time, there were samurai police, as you can clearly see with the Tenryou Commission. Heizō has ‘dōshin’ attached to his name whenever he’s spoken about, and these are part of the samurai police. They work under the yoriki and would investigate crimes, as well as patrol. So Heizō is basically the equivalent of a police inspector in modern terms. Since Naoto is a private investigator, I doubt they really clash much unless she’s investigating the same thing the police are.

I don’t really think she has any problems with the Arataki gang beyond them being noisy and troublesome sometimes. As long as it isn’t murder :ok_hand:

Naoto owns a Masterless Vision, whether it’s from one of her parents or it’s an old one from a previous Shirogane head, I haven’t decided yet. I didn’t want to steal Kazuha’s thunder, but the AQ was building up to a theme of ambition and legacy and then didn’t exactly do that, so yoink. There was a brief period of time where she tried everything she could to reawaken it, but failed. Nowadays, it serves as a lucky charm/keepsake she takes with her on her travels. It’s always out of sight, though.

Since the closest equivalent to Naoto’s real fashion comes from Fontaine, there are rumors that she’s half Fontainian—is that right—because of the way she dresses and she’s a little too absorbed in their technology half of the time. She can obviously switch between more Inazuma appropriate clothes or Fontaine, but you know.

THE HAT STAYS ARE YOU KIDDING ME

Thanks to Fontaine, I can safely say Naoto has a gun. How did she acquire it? I don’t know, don’t ask, she just has a gun. It’s a revolver, too.

That being said, she does carry a sword with her during travels and investigations because being attacked by a random Nobushi and Hilichurl related enemies isn’t fun. Nothing will stop her in her quest to get to her client.

The regular Fatui soldiers (along with other Vision holders) have shown that you can imbue your weapons with the elements, however, in the Fatui’s case, I can’t see any Visions on their person, which leads me to believe you could ‘artificially’ imbue your weapons with the elements. If that is the case, I can see Naoto giving herself elemental bullets, not so much with her sword. Perhaps the Snezhnaya chapter will shed some insight on the matter if it’s not already stated in the game by now.

Before I started, I was under the impression that the Sakoku Decree made it impossible for anyone to return or enter Inazuma, which isn’t exactly the case. I had the idea that she would have been out on a case and by the time she was ready to come home, she would receive a letter from her grandfather stating that it would be impossible to return, thus leaving her locked out of home for at least two years. Here, she would have made Liyue her ‘base of operations’ since it’s close to Fontaine, Mondstadt, and Sumeru.

It’s still possible for her to be out of the country if she wanted to flee and keep the Masterless Vision with her (and it’s stated that people would love to get their hands on these).

If she’s on Inazuma when the Decrees are around, she’d be helping with the resistance. There would be a lot of pressure on her since she’s defying the Shogun and all.

TL;DR Invasive species Naoto

#OOC: Outta Coffee #genshin impact /#I go back to my anime goodbye

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strykingback · 6 months

Note

“Don’t chase the rabbit” - Ruby for Blade

Send me "Don't chase the rabbit" and your muse will be shown a random memory from my muse's past. Accepting!

OST: My Brother....

Panting was heard as Blade ran through the hallways of the Schnee Dust Company base in Vacuo after the Desertwalkers had heard from a bandit tribe about it. Yet one of those Desertwalkers who announced he would go in.. was Blades brother in arms. Flare Maui, A Shark Faunus that Blade became firm friends with and saw him as an older brother to him.

"Just where are you?! Flare!!!" He said before turning a corner to see the Shark Faunus fighting for his life with his weapons already showing signs of cracking, his wounds only growing worse with every strike from the Schnee Dust Company...

"Flare!!!" Blade said unsheathing his weapons dubbed Flame and Shock Which were two basic swords as he rushed into the fight shocking the shark faunus, but smiling as his help was needed. "Glad to see you here with me brother!!!" He said looking at Blade.

"Glad I was able to make it man!" As the two had fought like it was their last killing SDC soldiers left and right until one of them landed a perfect shot near Flare as he would get rid of the soldier before coughing up blood.

"Flare! Oh no no no no.... This is all my fault.. had I just waited until you set the charge I would've....." Blade said before feeling Flare pull him into a hug.

"Brother, you have always fought until the enemy was done and over with..... but.. we gotta finish this. Together..." He said trying to stand up with Blade helping him as he carried him to the amount of dust.. that was gathered... "Lay me.... right there.... Blade." The shark faunus spoke weakly with the stryker laying him near the mounds of dust either in containers or currently being refined as he began to set the charge. Before he tore off his dog tags passing them to the young Stryker.

"Go on Blade....... tell Chief Hideyoshi.... I did it.... and that the mission was completed." He said giving a toothy grin with tears rolling down his face one last time as Blade made a face that screamed that he didnt want to leave someone so close to him like this.. thus he began to run and run until finally he felt his heart racing even faster his legs moving fast as well as he would dash out of the SDC mining base and to a safe distance catching his breath as he watched the base blow up... with his brother in it...

OST: Screaming Towards The Deserts

Finally when his breath was all but caught he would walk slowly looking down at the dog tags he was given while tears dripped down upon it falling to his knees..... looking up at the skies while crying and then finally..... screaming so loudly that it was believed..... that he almost sounded like a wailing beast seeking death...

#onlyheartaches #[A Strykers Edge- Blade]#tw: blood

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timetravelingpenguin1066 · 1 year

Text

Of Irland, Chapter 14

Chapter 1 \\ Chapter 13 \\ Series Masterlist

Instead of being taken captive in Winchester, Stiorra leaves for Irland with a friend of her father’s. There she meets Sigtryggr, a Dane, the grandson of Ivar the Boneless.

Chapter 14: More Shit Than The Irish

Chapter warnings: Language, Violence Words: 1773 AO3

Stiorra walked down the streets with her head held high, ignoring the whispers and the suspicious glances. People wondering if she was like what they thought of her father, and believing that at any moment, she would start killing Danes at random, men, women and children with no mercy and no care. Little did they know…

Stiorra’s freedom had come at a cost. Sigtryggr.

He no longer smiled when he saw. The only thing there was pain and frustration. It was understandable. She did lie to him.

Although she wished she’d never had to.

He longer invited her to sit with him during meals. Stiorra was forced into the company of Drifa and her folk. They chatted and laughed and told absurd stories, but…

She still missed her conversations with Sigtryggr. His jokes, his lessons on the gods. Everything. Most of all she missed his smile. His wide dimpled smile that he frequently wore around her. She had found herself praying and begging the gods long into the night to let her see that smile once again. Just once would be enough.

At this moment, she walked through the marketplace. People avoided her like she carried some sort of disease. It made her journey easier, that much was sure.

Drifa had her looking for that rare herb again. But she was having trouble finding the trader, and no-one there was willing to talk to her.

Perhaps this whole journey had been a waste of time. Stiorra knew that if she wanted to leave and go home to Coccham, Drifa would arrange it. She could be home in a week. She could be surrounded by people who loved and cared for her. People who told her stories. People who didn’t look at her like she was about to go mad. A few tears started seeping from her eyes. She blinked, determined not to let the people see what they were doing to her.

A commotion sounded from the far end of the market. Stiorra paid it no heed. It had nothing to do with her.

People started screaming. Running. Away from something. Towards her.

Just behind those people, Stiorra could see men on horseback, wielding swords and slashing at anyone who was unlucky enough to be caught. She ducked under a traders stall as they approached her.

The men cheered, like they’d won a great victory. And then she realised. These men were not Danes.

They were Irish.

These Irish shit-soldiers began to lift the flaps, searching for people that hid under the stalls, while others hacked them apart with axes. The axe approached where Stiorra was hiding.

The stall she ducked under was a weapons trader.

The men exclaimed excitedly.

Then they hacked.

***

There was a loud crash as the weapons and armour came down on top of her. By some intervention of the gods, nothing hit her.

The war cries of the Danes reached her ears.

The wet slashes and splats.

She banged on the stall, desperate to attract the attention of the Danes, while praying it was not Ivar who found her.

“Stiorra!” someone called. Drifa.

She banged again.

“Drifa! Over here!”

Of all the voices, perhaps that one was worse.

He was here. He had heard her. He started digging through the rubble to get to her.

Sunlight.

“Stiorra!”

Oh.

It had been too long since she’d heard him say her name. During the trial, she’d never once heard him say it. Always “The girl” or just “her.”

More weapons and armour and wood were hauled aside.

He leapt neatly into the gap. And lifted her in his arms.

His eyes, she’d never seen them so close. They were so blue, like the sea. Like ice. But warm. And filled with concern. For her? Why? She had not been hurt. She was merely. Gazing into his eyes.

She did not realise he’d lifted her out.

“She’s hurt!”

Was she? She did not feel pain. Instead, she was floating. In the sea. In the ice. In the night.

A hand gently touched her temple. It came away stained with blood. Oh. So she was hurt. On her head. How strange. She did not remember. Hitting her head. She did not see herself. Stretching up a hand to comfort him. It’s alright, she said. I’m not hurt, she said. But the words never came. And instead. She fell into blackness. A dreamless night. A never-ending sleep.

***

Stiorra’s eyes snapped open.

She was lying in a bed. A bandage had been wrapped around her skull. She winced.

“Are you alright?” came a troubled gentle voice beside her.

Oh.

Shit.

What was he doing in here?

“I’m fine,” was her curt reply.

The silence.

The long, awkward silence.

A silence that stretched out over hours. Or perhaps days. Months? Years?

Stiorra thought she must have gone deaf, with how loud the silence sounded in her ears.

“I’m sorry,” Sigtryggr said, breaking the long silence.

“What for?” Stiorra was still curt and cold with him.

“I have been avoiding you.”

“I lied to you.”

“You did,” he agreed, “but with good reason.”

He sighed, squeezing her hand.

Squeezing her hand? How was it that she only now noticed that?

“You had to protect yourself. If any Dane here had learnt the truth, they would have wanted to kill you. And there would have been little resistance. But you have been here for some months, and people have gotten to know you, they like you. You have helped heal some of them. That was one of the reasons Ivar did not kill you.”

“One of the reasons?”

He raised his hand to cup her cheek, stroking his thumb over the soft skin. The simple touch sent shockwaves coursing over her body.

“If he killed you, both myself and Drifa would side with Uhtred when war came. I would kill Ivar myself.”

***

He left soon after. But his words still lingered in her head.

Sigtryggr was willing to kill his own brother for her? Stiorra didn’t know whether she should be repelled or attracted. On the one hand, he was willing to protect her at any cost. But killing his own brother… That wasn’t something anyone should do. He would become a kinslayer. Uhtred may hate the title ‘Dane-Slayer,’ but he would never kill his own kin. He couldn’t.

***

The first time Stiorra went downstairs after the attack, the hall seemed to have shrunk. Or perhaps that was just because of how many people were in there. She spied Drifa and pushed and shoved her way over.

“What’s going on?”

“This is a Thing. More of a trial for them,” she answered, pointing at the Irishmen who had attacked the market.

People were still chatting amongst themselves, pointing at the prisoners. Probably speculating what will happen to them, Stiorra thought.

“Chances are they’ll be executed, or perhaps sacrificed,” rumbled a voice behind them.

Sigtryggr.

He always seemed to come up behind her, catching her off guard.

“Suppose it’s only a question as to how,” Drifa added. “A simple beheading or hanging, perhaps beaten. Blood Eagled.”

A Blood Eagle. The same punishment Ivar had dangled before Stiorra. A Blood Eagle was perhaps the worst of the Danes methods. It involved the person being tied to two post, arms spread. Their back would be cut with a knife to expose the ribs. Then an axe would break them from the spine. The ribs would fall open, the lungs taken out and placed on the shoulders. The worst part was not even all that.

It was believed that if the person cried out, they would be denied entry to Valhalla.

In the case of Christians, it was more of entertainment. They would cry out, while the Danes laughed.

“Shouldn’t you be up there?” Drifa pointed out.

Sigtryggr rolled his eyes and moved on to the dias where Ivar and Rognvaldr had appeared.

Ivar raised his hand for quiet.

“These men,” he began, “attacked and ransacked our market. They have killed many traders, as well as some of our people. I ask you, the people, to help me decide what to do with them.”

The people called out various things. “Kill them!” “Blood Eagle!”

Ivar raised his hand again.

“I see that you all have many ideas. But first I must ask these men a question.” He turned his attention to the men. “Do you serve Faolán Mac Thóm?”

The men remained stubbornly silent. One of them spat on the floor.

“It seems, my brother,” Ivar said to Sigtryggr, “that these men need a little help loosening their tongues.”

Sigtryggr stepped off the dias and approached the prisoners.

“Cé acu duine agaibh atá ina cheannaire?”

“Which one of you is the leader?” Drifa translated.

Still they stayed silent.

Save for the one at the end. He was whimpering, and muttering. Praying.

Sigtryggr stopped in front of him, kneeling down to his height. Using a single finger, he lifted the man’s face up.

There was something distinctly inappropriate about watching this. Sigtryggr was scaring the shit out of this man, and yet…

“What about you?” he prodded. “Are you going to tell me who leads your little party?”

Then man trembled and tried to glance at his companions. But Sigtryggr did not move his finger.

With a shaky hand, the man pointed at the one sitting at the other end of the line.

“Traitor,” he hissed.

Sigtryggr hummed.

Stiorra clenched her thighs together.

Moving in front of the man pointed out as the leader, Sigtryggr ordered him to stand.

“Who are you?”

“Eanna.”

Sigtryggr nodded. “Eanna. Why did you and your little party attack our market?”

In response, Eanna spat in his face.

Ivar laughed.

Sigtryggr seemed to be laughing too. Until he headbutted Eanna, breaking his nose.

Cursing and spitting blood, Eanna answered, “Because you heathen deserved it! You are a curse on this land! We will not stand for it!”

Sigtryggr punched him again.

Grasping him by the neck, he demanded, “Do you serve Faolán Mac Thóm?”

There were a few tense moments where all that could be heard was Eanna’s heavy breathing and the splatter of his blood on the floor.

“No.”

A collective sigh of relief went through the hall. The truce had not been broken. The Danes would not be rising to war.

***

The Thing concluded with the Irishmen being sentenced to death by beheading. Their heads would be placed on spears on the wall of Dyflin to warn against any others who might think to attack.

Sigtryggr was once again talking to Stiorra. Things certainly seemed to be getting better again.

#the last kingdom #tlk fics #sigtryggr #stiorra

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odaclan · 2 years

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Hideyoshi and Sandals, Part 2

(part 1 here)

I’m looking at how Hideyoshi has a sword in the illustration, despite his non-warrior status. This is apparently because the sandal bearer is a chuugen 中間 “level” of attendant, and in the Edo period, the chuugen attendants is indeed allowed to carry a sword (at least a wakizashi).

The chuugen is explained as being somewhat lower than the soldiers and warriors, but above the menial servants (some articles say that menial workers is what komono 小者 are).

This probably also explains why in the Edo period stories Nobunaga can just pick up Hideyoshi from the side of the road like it’s nothing, while Sengoku contemporary texts seem to suggest that this is very strange even if you take into account Nobunaga’s eccentricities. The chuugen servants apparently can, in fact, just be picked up from the streets like it’s nothing in the Edo period. Or, at least, there was a time that they were.

When the Edo shogunate enacted the sankin-kōtai, the lords had to hire a horde of baggage-carriers to help them pack up and move. In their rush, they hired many random civilians from the towns. These emergency baggage-carriers later became settled as the chuugen servants in the new mansions.

I’m not entirely sure yet if chuugen is a class that already exist before the Edo period. I’m seeing some posts making claims that the chuugen servants can join the battle as ashigaru and make a name for themselves, but I haven’t yet affirmed the accuracy of this. This would require me to look into Edo laws and structure, because the names of the attendant and vassals ranks can mean different things between the eras.

Still, being that the chuugen were apparently allowed swords during the Edo period, writers of the time possibly made their own extrapolations and applied it to the Hideyoshi narrative.

#toyotomi hideyoshi #kinoshita toukichirou #kinoshita hideyoshi #Hashiba Hideyoshi #japanese history #legends #Sengoku Era #Sengoku period #hideyoshi #sengoku

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zimandturtles · 1 year

Text

Random Head cannons for my Bois:

Enid💚✨, Navy💙🗡️, and Aries❤️🐺

💚💙❤️💚💙❤️💚💙❤️💚💙❤️💚💙❤️💚💙❤️💚

Staring with the Wizard Eternity 🪄

Enid is great at cooking for no reason, but chooses to make "Traditional Foods" that to people with no culture tastes terrible...

Enid received his palisman when he was 13 years old after battling his father the leader of his people

Enid is technically Royalty among those who believe in his people...

Enid's people are known as "The Seekers", "Old Witches", "The Forgotten", and many other names...

Enid is scared of clowns don't ask why...🤡

Enid is a Grandma at heart and a Wine Aunt in spirit...

Enid's favorite song is "Owl in a Cage" by VizziPop and Co. for Hellova Boss because he knows what it's like to feel trapped and alone in a role you didn't want to play...

Enid is usually very patient with people, but when it comes to Guardians who failed to save those around them either out of incompetence or ignorance to the problem, he won't hesitate to back hand them to the void and back

Enid could take Error and Ink in a fight and win...

Enid studies multiple forms of magic and martial arts such as: Wicca, Elemental, conjuring, and spell circles. Ninjutsu, capoeira, Tai chi.

Enid can dance Ballet, Waltz, and most Erotic dances and will incorporate it into how he fights...

Enid enjoys most "old people" activities like Knitting, Shuffleboard, Chess, and Crosswords...

💙💚❤️💙💚❤️💙💚❤️💙💚❤️💙💚❤️💙💚❤️💙

Next up War Extrimest and Legend Navy💙🗡️🛡️

Navy can't cook for shit, when he became a soldier he stopped cooking and since has lost his taste buds and everything tastes the same to him...

Navy is religious... specialty he's Catholic...

Navy has a massive Clydesdale Horse, her name is Black Comet after a birth mard on her flanks that looks like a comet falling through the sky. She is bigger than the average Clydesdale by 3 inches, is black and white birth marks being white and has the personality of Becky Apples from CentaurWorld...

Navy carries a war hammer he named: Justice. And a Sword Breaker named: Executioner...

Navy hates humans at the best of times, but can come to respect them with time and patience on the humans end...

Navy's favorite song is "Meet Me On The Battle Field"

Navy speaks fluently in Russian, Mandrin Chinese, and Spanish...

Navy has the highest body count out of all the other Blues...

Navy tends to alienate himself from the other Blues by making them fear him, he has trust issues and other "himself" remind him of his past mistakes...

Navy has major PTSD and heckoraphobia, the fear of failure...

Navy watched his own brother kill himself and felt nothing. "He was a traitor...traitors receive no pitty..."...

💙💚❤️💙💚❤️💙💚❤️💙💚❤️💙💚❤️💙💚❤️💙

Finally Big Boi Puppurs Aires❤️🐺🖤

Aries mixes Dog Food in with his people food, it keeps his teeth clean, his coat full and thick, stomach easy, and adds in more protein to his people foods...

Aries favorite song is Elvic Presley's "Can't Help Falling In Love With You" and has practiced playing it for Midoriya on an electric guitar...🎸

Aries can smell fear and other emotions...

Aries is prone to sensory overload and it gives him extreme headaches and nausea when exposed for too long...

Aries has no real control over his animal instincts and will bark at other dogs to assert dominance...

Aries has a Nordic Rune symbol of Bravery, Love, and Hope tattooed on his lower back, it shows on his fur with a special enzyme in the dye to make it show on skin and fur...

Aries will naturally call people Love, Darling, and Sweetheart as a part of his dialect

Aries when he was human was Black being Norse and South African in genetic origins

Aries is a mix of different Canines such as: Black Timber Wolf, Doberman Pinscher, Black Erasure, German Shepherd, and Tibetan Mastiff...

Aries has to be taken on walks and MUST be accompanied at all times during his walk, if not he will get lost and chase birds, butterflies, and cars...

Aries loves giving gifts but won't give them in person, often the gifts are dead birds and squirrels he caught on UA property...

Aries speaks fluent English, Japanese, Norwegian, and African...

💚❤️💙💚❤️💙💚❤️💙💚❤️💙💚❤️💙💚❤️💙💚

Okay that's all I got for now if you have any questions about the boys just ask! And send in your question to Ask Eternity here on my blog! I'm really good about answering things in a timely manner. Anyways bye!💜

Hold up for the current hommies @bowtiethewolf @skydreamplayzz and the rest of you freaks who like me for some reason 😃

#undertale au #undertale #au sans #eternity!sans #eternity sans #Aries #oc headcanons #bullshit #NavyBlue!Sans #NavyHasComittedSeveralWarCrimes #mha #norse mythology #fursona #emo boy #my hero academia #my original characters

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