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duckytree · 1 year

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current bat games au lore

ok so here is part of what we have so far:

jason is no longer from district 2, he was originally a scrappy orphan from 12; he changed his name to "RED" after lazrus therapy and becoming a gladiator

Nightwing has a notorious reputation in the capitol as vain and bitchy. he constantly gets procedures done to look as young and beautiful as possible and will actively sabotage the new tributes' relationships with the capitol citizens. in reality, he is trying to protect the younger victors from being sexually exploited by putting himself on the front lines as the sex symbol

tim is the newest victor of the games. his mentor was barbara and they are both secretly working for the anti-capitol resistence.

damian is the political baby of a strategic union between talia and bruce to unite their clans without drawing suspicion from the government on why they're working closely. his parents are both big players in the capitol.

the al ghuls are the tinfoil hat conspiracy theorists of the capitol who believe the revolution is nigh. but instead of underground bunkers they prepare for the apocalypse by training their children in several warrior arts

bruce's alter ego is batman, political terrorist who is working behind the scenes to take down capitol corruption (good luck buddy)

the capitol has a capped maximum on how much wealthy citizens can donate as sponsorship because otherwise bruce wayne would sponsor all the kids in an effort for them to live

when jason was thrown into the arena, he had no living mentor and had to fend for himself. batman secretly helped him with tips and advice on how to survive

Nightwing tried to talk bruce out of sponsoring jason in the arena. it wasn't out of cruelty; he just thought it would be a better investment to sponsor a child who is more likely to live instead of a starving little boy from the weakest district bound to die. bruce sponsored jason anyway

bruce's parents were assassinated for the treasonous act of believing district citizens deserved human rights

jason's abundance of sponsorships made him a target in the arena. he got really messed up and had to go through a brutal, traumatic, and experimental rehabilitation called the lazarus project. he came out of it brain damaged and now most of his body consists of lab-grown flesh or robotic parts. (notice his fake eyes and how most of his body is covered up)

the hunger games are like the annual SuperBowl. for the rest of the year the capitol citizens enjoy entertainment like celebrity escorts (Nightwing) or gladiator games, which is basically the WWE but more deadly and no predetermined winner (RED)

gladiators all have a number that is worn by players and fans alike. most gladiators wear theirs on their armour but RED wears his as a corpse identification tag on his ear

tim purposefully makes himself seem boring and unlikable so that the capitol will allow him to go home rather than stay at the capitol like nightwing and RED.

tim is probably on like 10 different government watchlists

damian keeps nightwing around as a friend/babysitter, since he gave every other one he had a mental breakdown

damian keeps jason around as a personal weaponsmith/arms instructor (hired by talia)

talia and bruce have split custody of damian

nightwing and RED are top-celebs in their fields

bruce's name is brucellosis I'm sorry that's just the way it is

bruce stopped sponsoring for a while after jason's injury cause he blamed himself

hunger games sponsors are like gambling or horse race betting. if your sponsored victor lives you get more money back. but it is so costly with such high stakes that most people don't do it

nightwing volunteered for some random kid who he had no connection with because he has no self-preservation and is kinda self sacrificing like that

nightwing's mentor was starfire. he had a massive crush on her and she'd pat his head

RED has a tense relationship with bruce and Nightwing but also trusts them more than anyone else

there are more but they require more context and characters so hang tight. suggestions welcome! just dm me in my inbox

#nightwing #red hood #red robin #robin #batman #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #brucellosis wayne #batfam #hunger games #hunger games au #asks #duckytree

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phonkscribes · 2 years

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Can I request some Headcanons of Hanzo staying/being helped rehabilitated with the healer idea you got awhile back, the reader trying to help him recover but things just feel off about them

Tainted Waters

He recalls passing through a clearing, away from the pagodas and structures where his enemies sought his head. The archer's vision was blurred, murky by exhaustion as he did his best to get away. The shouting of the men echoed from the trees as he tried to urge himself forward, just as he's always done. Human limbs ache as he drags himself weakly, unaware of the other who was watching him begin to succumb to his own misery business. In the moments that he stands, a shadow drapes itself over his own, causing him to jerk around with his bow in hand with an arrow slotted through the string.

An assassin?

Before he can let that arrow fly, they're already in his face. A hand as swift as his own finds his neck, and after that... everything fades. This is not the end, even as he thinks it to be; which is why he's thoroughly confused as to why he finds himself in a bed of another and being taken care of.

When he wakes up, one of your little helper's startles, and runs to get you. Which just confuses Hanzo further.

Really just what the hell was going on here? He didn't have time to rest or sit around in bed all day when there was still so much for him to do.

As the door closes, he's quick to rise and pull himself out of bed. Luckily, you're quick to appear, slipping in through the door without so much as a sound.

"Ah... good, you're awake"

Your voice is silk against his ears, but does well to keep him paranoid. He jumps, and turns to face you too quickly, looking for his weapon of choice and his quiver of arrows.

"Who are you and what do you want from me?", he fires at you straight away, understandably. He's been essentially kidnapped here, not knowing he'd been saved from an early fate.

You're patient even as he gestures at you accusingly, like you'd done something wrong.

You could liken him to a feral cat, hissing at the person who took it in. How cute.

After explaining his situation to him, he doesn't quite settle down but tries to say that he's quite fine and ready to leave... the pain in his side says otherwise.

Whether he likes it or not, he's going to have to stay, if not for a short while until he's able to get back on his feet again.

It's a liability to him, one of the very few times where he's ever felt so vulnerable. It'll be hard to trust you even if you've just saved his life.

Strangely, in spite of staying at your estate, you're never to be seen or found. Even when asked about by your servants, they only ever say nice things and say that this is a common occurrence.

It only builds to your mysterious nature as he walks around to investigate his surroundings better. A part of him feels shame, because it is as they say. You've only ever tried to help him recover and here he was trying to find out more about you.

When you finally do happen upon Hanzo, you accidentally scare him, not that you meant to but he just happened to be deep in thought about something.

He's never been an anxious man, one that's certain about things and sure of what he has to do unlike his brother, but in your presence he can't help but to sense that there's something more to you. Something that isn't quite right.

You run your examinations on him, to which tells you everything you need to know about the man.

Has he ever heard of self-care because, goodness... he's in a worse state than what the surface tells you.

A longer stay is required, much to his dismay.

You want to be sure that he won't fall back into his bad habits.

It isn't easy to just give up on them either, and you'd know this best.

That's why he needs someone to be there for him, if he's not going to be there for himself.

To celebrate his journey to getting well again, you've prepared a grand feast yourself, with plenty of vegetables for his immune system and vitamins to help him get back onto his feet.

The scents are mouth watering, and watching you beckon him over to your side to eat tugged at his heart strings.

It's all so familiar, so nostalgic that he can't help but to awkwardly sit down and take up a plate of his own to eat.

It'd been too long since he's had something like this, sharing it with someone without the fear of what hangs over his head.

"It's... delicious", he says, but you can feel how he says it.

Your hand, rough and warm places itself on his shoulder

"Eat as much as you'd like then, get stronger Hanzo"

He can't shake off the gentle feelings stirring in his chest, but he cannot shake off the way that your palm scratches his skin either.

There's so much he doesn't know yet, so much more that he wants to know, but he isn't sure how to go about it.

As the night ends, he lingers, waiting to catch you when you're alone to talk

Right as he goes to seek you out, you happen to find him again, only he doesn't spook as bad as he had the first time.

"You seem to keep looking for me, Hanzo. Is there anything you need?"

"H- what gives that away?"

To which you smile, pointing to the dragon tattoo on his shoulder.

"I have my... sources", you answer much to his surprise.

#your letter has been received #phonk scribes #overwatch x reader #overwatch imagines #hanzo shimada x reader #hanzo shimada imagines #gender neutral reader #healer reader #[ the title makes sense to me i swear ]#[ hope you enjoyed this for how long it took to write it :(( sorry for the hold up! ]

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misaverawrites · 2 years

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What If You Kissed Me? (Steve Rogers x Reader)

summary: You were placed in charge of Bucky's rehabilitative care after coming back from Wakanda, you and Steve get to know each other pretty well.

tags: mentions of rehabilitation, mentions of winter soldier!bucky, minor spoilers for up until avengers: infinity war, kind of in a fucky spot in the timeline lol don't look too closely lol, Steve saves you on a mission, kissing, she/her pronouns, description of a knife, steve knocks this lady out, non-graphic descriptions of violence.

a/n: y’all i am down bad, i started rewatching marvel movies from when i was a kid (phase 1/2) and f u c k i love them lol

There wasn't much of a reason for you to form connections in your life, it just slowed you down. That's what you'd believed as you made your way from college to the C.I.A to S.H.I.E.L.D. You'd been recruited into one of the most secret government agencies in the world and that was enough for you. Until they put you on his case.

"James Buchanan Barnes, birthdate March 10, 1917," Director Fury and you stood in an elevator, he read aloud all you needed to know, "Former assassin for Hydra, now currently works as a supersoldier for us. You will keep a close eye on him and work with him on rehabilitation. You will also have to deal with Captain Rogers and Sam Wilson, who hang around despite the fact that I damn well tell them not too." You silently nod, taking the file from the Director's hand. This was something you weren't prepared for, one of your first assignments ever being the rehabilitation of one of the most wanted men in the world, who is also an Avenger, as well as deal with his Avenger friends. You shake off the nerves as you thumb through the file once more, feeling the director's gaze on you. You look up and wait anxiously for the elevator to stop, when it does you suddenly feel hot and your stomach feels like a deep pit, you have to do this. The elevator doors open and Fury hands you a new identification card with a new clearance level that quickly sets you at ease. It read to you clear as day, Clearance Level 7 Agent. You smile softly at the new badge, pinning it onto your breast as you follow after Fury. He enters an area you'd barely even known existed as he stops in front of a room, escorting you inside.

"Sergeant Barnes, I assume your time in Wakanda served you well?" Fury says, James, nodding in turn, staying quiet. Fury looks at you and back at the Sergeant, before leaving the both of you alone. You offer a polite smile at him, not knowing what to say at this moment. "Sergeant Barnes-." You try to begin but Bucky raises his hand at you, "Call me James, please." You nod, pleased that you and he could have this level of mutual awkwardness with one another. "Welcome back from Wakanda, James." He nods as you decide to sit down with him, "So, has anything happened in your life lately?" He sits in silence, possibly deciding what he trusts you enough to tell you right now. "I found a little grocery store, near my new place. Sam's been making me try new stuff, turns out we didn't cook very well in the 40s." He jokes, causing you to laugh, "What food have you liked the most now?" He exhales a bit and sits up, "Well, everything feels overwhelmingly spicy, you know? Hydra well... they fed me what I basically ate in the army or they didn't feed me at all... I just really enjoy having the choice, even if the choice is in my face and everything." You nod a bit, listening to him talk about anything... Wakanda, his life before as he calls it, all the changes in his life, you can't help but find it all terribly interesting. You feel entranced by the things he's telling you about his adventures during the War, something you'd only ever learned about in textbooks with black and white photos and mild interest and now it was here in front of you. Until you hear a knock on the door.

"Hey, Buck... Oh- sorry." You turn around at the knock, only to see him. Steve Rogers, Captain America as he is more well known. You smile politely and stand, "You're fine, Captain, James and I were just finishing up and then I'll be out of your way." He shakes his head and the smile he gives you makes you want to faint. He was something out of a dream, he holds out his hand to shake yours, a gesture you meet. His hands are firm and large, practically dwarfing the size of your own. “You’re alright,” He says, “Do whatever you need to do.” He offers you that smile again; causing your stomach to turn over, and it makes you want to pass out in terror. This is stupid and you know it. Having a crush on Captain America, a living legend and Avenger, who is also the best friend of your rehabilitation charge, these feelings are new to you but you decide to shake them off. You were still a professional adult woman.

You continue working around the two men, watching them talk about whatever, and you can't help but steal a glance at the Captain every now and again. He's so much more different than anything you'd seen out on the news, he's human.

That's why, when you are tasked to go on a mission with him, Bucky, Sam, and Natasha, you can't help but feel nervous or even a bit useless. Two super-soldiers, a woman who was bred and raised to become a spy, a soldier who was damn good at his secret task, and you, a normal young woman who was just able to become a SHIELD agent and get placed somewhere as lucky as with Bucky being your "charge." You sigh as you pull on a bit of protective gear, turning to see Steve, who suddenly pulled his eyes away, he wasn't staring at me, you reason with yourself. "It's your first field mission like this, yeah?" He asks you as you nod nervously, it was scary enough being on a mission like this, but admitting it to someone like Steve Rogers? Terrifying. It was supposedly easy, but, with a squad like this. You knew Fury was lying out of his ass. In an abandoned warehouse that held SHIELD and Hydra secrets, you were all tasked to do a full sweep, make sure whatever rats are lying low, go down, and grab those secrets.

"Alright, well stay with Bucky and you'll be alright, I know you can handle yourself though." He gives you that smile, again and it makes you want to melt. "How do you know I can handle myself, we've never even gone on a mission." He gives a shrug and a smile, "Some people just... have a way that you can tell. You're one of them." You feel warmth on your skin and watch as the look in his eyes scream admiration. The helicraft carrying the five of you slows and the door slides open, allowing Sam to move past you two, not before shooting a look over to Steve, and dropping out, his wings carrying him over the warehouse for any recon needed on this mission. There's only a bit of time left and you exhale, trying to dispel even an ounce of the nerves bouncing around in your stomach. Steve places his hand on your shoulder, as the door opens once again, allowing you all to parachute out of the helicraft. "(Y/N), Buck, take the left side, try to minimize casualties for now. Natasha and I will take the right side, keep your comms on." He then walks off with Natasha and you go off with Bucky.

"You need to make your move." You hear Bucky from behind you, causing you to turn and face him, "What do you mean?" Bucky rolls his eyes, "I mean Steve. He likes you, you like him. Seriously, you two... Wait." There's a quiet beeping, it pulls you both from your conversation, Bucky goes after it, leaving you alone. You stay on guard but the worry overtakes you until you feel the blade of a knife, sharp and shiny, pressed against your neck.

"Shit." You whisper as you feel a woman holding you now, "I've been compromised." You whisper, trying to make it sound more like a statement than a warning call over comms. "Now, what is a normal SHIELD puppy like you doing here?" The woman asks, you simply stay quiet, maybe I can catch her leg and flip her? You think to yourself. That is until you feel yourself pushed forward onto the ground, you crawl trying to get away from her until you turn back to see Steve, covering her mouth and knocking her out with the front, more blunt side of his shield.

You slowly begin to stand up that is until he takes you into his arms, weaving his hands into your hair, "You scared me…” He breathes into your hair, holding you to his chest. “I heard you and Bucky and then Bucky said something about a trap and I-.” You pull away from him, “You heard me and Bucky?” He simply nods, and you feel a bit embarrassed, he knows about your stupid, massive crush on him. “I haven’t been in love since 1945, but, I know it when I feel it. That’s why I’m telling you, I have feelings for you and I’m so happy you feel the same.” This doesn’t feel real in the slightest, but as far as you are aware, this is the happiest moment in your life.

Steve presses his lips to yours in a kiss that makes your heart skip a beat, his hands threading through your hair and land on your hips, you’ve imagined how his lips felt and in reality? They’re better. You only pull away once you hear Sam clear his throat on the comms, reminding the both of you that you’re on a mission.

“Hey you crazy kids,” You hear Bucky snark at the two of you over comms, “Wait until after the mission?” You roll your eyes but pull away from Steve, not before kissing him one more time on the cheek. "Let's get coffee after the mission?" He asks you and you give him a wide smile and nod, "Of course, Steve." The use of his real name makes him smile at you as he wraps his hand around yours as the two of you continue on with the mission to come.

#steve rodgers x reader #mcu fandom #mcu fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x female reader #captain america x you #steve rogers x female reader #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #marvel fanfiction #x reader #fanfiction #fanfic

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felixcloud6288 · 6 months

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Fullmetal Alchemist Chapter 87

We have some background about Pride's work in Father's plan. My guess is Pride's job has been to ensure whatever leader was following Father's plan. So everyone was either a puppet or was forced to follow the plan.

The oldest date mentioned in Madame Christmas's search was 50 years ago. Wrath meanwhile is 60. Hawkeye mentioned in chapter 62 there is a parliament in the Amestris government which is a military puppet. Perhaps Pride's job was to manipulate the government into a military dictatorship in preparation for Wrath's eventual Presidency.

Christmas = CHRIS MUStang.

Is this kind of city planning currently or previously used anywhere in the world? The power lines are underground and the passages for them also double for sewage and runoff.

Since they're all deserters, that means 2nd Lieutenant Black Hayate is the only member of the crew with a military rank now.

Roy would have no reason to hide he was responsible for the President's assassination from his subordinates, so it definitely wasn't him. So that leaves Graman as the mastermind. The only question now is if he baited Bradley with the intent to kill him from the start or if he saw an opportunity with his arrival.

And also, why did the train conductors assist? Is Graman just that well connected within East Amestris?

Sloth likely doesn't remember (too much effort) but it must be awkward for Major General Armstrong to be sitting beside the Homunculus who wrecked her fortress and who she tried to kill a few months ago.

Greed's totally got the hots for Lanfan.

So in chapter 84, I guessed that 5 months have likely passed since chapter 83. Now I can mention why. Ed says that Lanfan only spent 6 months in rehabilitation. I'd mentioned that the entire Briggs arc took place roughly over 6 weeks. So we'd need the timeskip to be about 5 months if Ed is giving such an exact amount of time for Lanfan's rehab.

Ed saw Greed's shield is tougher than Pride's shadow and decided to copy him. Ed's entire playbook is to see how other people use Alchemy and copy it.

More talk about the nature of Pride's shadow. As Ed mentions, a Homunculus's limbs dissipate when disconnected from the main body.

Pride's body doesn't bleed and Roy mentions his apparent age varied over the years, so this means Prode's human appearance isn't his true body but just a vessel. It's kinda like how Father's appearance is just a vessel to carry his true form in.

So Pride's "shadow" is actually part of his true self. And it's the same substance that Father's true form is made of. So this would mean Father figured out how to exist outside a vessel, at least to a limited degree.

Whatever Pride is made of, it's photosensitive. It can travel far distances by hiding in shadows, but it needs light to be able to act. But too much light can destroy it.

Greed snuck back control of Lin's body when no one was looking. (you can tell cause the hair is covering his right eye)

We can definitely tell Greed witnessed Pride eat Gluttony because he had sharp teeth when he gritted them. It was Greed, not Lin, who was angry to see how callously Pride would kill one of his own.

back

#fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist reread

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viking369 · 10 months

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Putin in Dresden

OK, let's see if we can connect a few dots. We know Bad Vlad was in Dresden in the late 80s (just what his brief was remains an open question). We know the KGB was running revolutionary groups out of Dresden (Red Army Faction, Baader-Meinhoff, PLFP). We know the KGB was running out of Dresden rather than Berlin because they thought there were no prying, Western eyes in Dresden (It probably kept the operation away from prying, GRU eyes as well. And Stasi. Apparently much of this was done without Stasi's approval or even knowledge. At the very least, it gave Stasi plausible deniability.). We know they kept the operation records in Dresden, close to the vest (only summaries going to Berlin and Moscow), and the operations included bombings and assassinations in the West. We know that in the late 80s a number of KGB officers saw the writing on the wall and started preparing for their personal futures by setting up entities in the West and skimming Soviet money into them.

And we know that in December 1989, Bad Vlad suddenly emerges from behind the curtain in full hero mode. The Berlin Wall had fallen the month before, and an angry mob that had been busily tearing apart the Dresden Stasi HQ started turning its attention to the nearby KGB HQ. Putin bluffed the mob into jogging on, protecting the facility (Accounts differ on whether he was brandishing a pistol. Putin himself has never claimed to have been armed.).

Now we get to the speculative parts. Just what was Putin doing there? Actual information is thin on the ground (more on that in a bit). This lack of information has led the usual suspects to conclude Putin deliberately destroyed the records to hide he was chief of Black Ops at the Dresden station. Ahem. People, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. Putin's career before and immediately after Dresden does not support this grandiose conspiracy theory. Bad Vlad was the guy who carried the briefcase for the actual players. Did he work with the officers who handled the foreign revolutionaries? Yes. Was he himself the show runner, or even a show runner. Let's just call it unlikely and leave it at that.

As to the lack of documents, Putin himself has said he along with everyone else was burning documents as fast as they could, which appears to be true as far as it goes. There is very little documentation concerning anyone who was operating at the Dresden station. Most of our information on Dresden comes from three types of sources: 1) KGB associates of various sorts who flipped prior to Putin's being there and so could not have known about Putin's activity; 2) KGB associates of various sorts who are selling memoirs and such; and 3) people who may or may not have been in the revolutionary groups and may or may not have been to Dresden but who are more than willing to talk about it in an effort to rehabilitate themselves. Little of this information can be corroborated, and even less can stand on its own without corroboration. Except perhaps for those who just want to attract readers and viewers, as opposed to those trying to parse actual information from fool's gold.

So what happened in Dresden in December 1989-January 1990? All evidence indicates a massive amount of documents were destroyed. But suppose that isn't the whole story (Try to contain your shock.). Suppose an ambitious, reasonably intelligent, and in his mind underappreciated KGB officer saw a number of those documents and didn't see "security risk" but "leverage". Here were a pile of Soviet officials, including who knows who many KGB officers, with their fingerprints all over "third-party" wet operations in the West. Officials and officers who were now trying to make nice with the West, even find soft landings there. Landings that would get a whole lot bumpier if Western authorities learned of their parts in killing Western citizens.

So this KGB officer packages up these gold nuggets, perhaps with the assistance of a couple of close associates, but how to move them? Certainly not through KGB channels. Enter Major General Horst Boehm, Stasi chief for the Dresden district and the KGB officer's long-standing local contact. Unlike Putin, Boehm had been unable to protect Stasi HQ, and it was royally trashed to his chagrin and shame. It was apparent to Boehm the game was up and he needed friends in other places. Whatever the KGB officer threw at him, Boehm slurped it up with a big spoon. So he moved the documents to Destination Unknown on one of Stasi's rapidly crumbling and therefore unsupervised mule trains. Probably via Rotterdam, but that's experience talking, not evidence.

Corroboration? None. You see, in February 1990 Boehm and two of his district chief colleagues became so depressed and ashamed over everything that they "committed suicide". Am I alleging our KGB officer had them whacked after their services were delivered? Absolutely not; there's no way he had that kind of pull. Boehm was terminated with extreme prejudice because, among his efforts to cultivate friends in the West, he devised a plan to leverage his knowledge of the complicity of Dutch and Swedish officials in East Germany's international arms smuggling. Boehm's two colleagues were probably in on it, but that's fuzzier. The only question is how anyone with sufficient muscle to hit three secure targets in an East Germany still crawling with Soviet military and security forces found out about Boehm's plan.

His documents secured and Dresden station being cooked, our KGB officer is transferred to Leningrad. From there he blackmails his way up the ladder, builds a coterie of cronies around him, and takes command. And becomes filthy rich in the process.

The interesting question before us now is, "What has changed?" Why is Putin no longer concerned about burning down whole wings of the house, ranging from foreign relations to former friends? I figure the options are as follows, and they aren't mutually exclusive: 1) He figures he's so powerful he no longer has to rely on the Dresden docs; 2) He figures he's so powerful the gang he built around himself using the Dresden docs is expendable; 3) The people who could have been threatened by the Dresden docs are now all gone, the docs are now irrelevant, and any part of his power still based on those docs needs shifted. I recommend that intelligence agencies focus on researching those points.

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howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 2 years

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Those Spared in Duterte’s "War on Drugs” May Go to Moonie Rehabilitation

▲ Pictured: A class at the International Peace Leadership College prior to the rehabilitation program

Background

In 2019, there were over 27,000 lives lost in Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte's "War on Drugs.” The victims were virtually all poor and working class people, and includes children. Durterte has urged the public to execute drug dealers and addicts, and other criminals. In 2019, over 140,000 pre-trial detainees were being held in prison for drug charges.

Duterte’s presidency is known for its violence against the Filipino masses. Along with the “War on Drugs,” Duterte’s “anti-terrorism” has taken hundreds of lives.

According to a Human Rights report from the Ecumenical Voice for Human Rights and Peace in the Philippines (Ecuvoice), from July 2016 to November 2019, Karapatan documented 293 victims of extrajudicial killings perpetrated in line with the counterinsurgency program, with 167 defenders killed or an average of one to two HRDs killed every week.

There have been countless assassinations since Duterte came into power, ramping up during this past election year, killing human rights lawyers, peace talks consultants, journalists, labor and peasant organizers, Indigenous leaders, clergy, activists, teachers, etc.

The Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) have also been indiscriminately dropping bombs in the Philippine countryside, displacing hundreds of thousands of people. Though Duterte is soon leaving office, he doubled the salaries of the military and police, militarizing the police and transforming the Philippine military with resources and fire power coming from the US. His legacy will undeniably continue under former dictator Ferdinand Marcos’s son, Bongbong Marcos, who was recently voted in as president, and Duterte’s own daughter, who was voted in as vice-president.

The budget for Duterte's War on Drugs is being obscured, but it is undeniably linked and backed by the billions of dollars the US pours into the Philippine government in funding and weapons.

The Unification Church and the Duterte’s War on Drugs

Those the government deems "recreational drug users," rather than addicts, are being sent to the International Peace Leadership College (ILPC), run by the Universal Peace Federation, an international Moonie front aiming to be a “Peace UN”. Shinzo Abe, Donald Trump, Ban Ki Moon, Paula White, and dozens of other globally-known figures have spoken at UPF events in the past few years.

ILPC originally began as a seminary in 1999 for Filipino Unification Church members, started by former continental director Pyeonghwa Kim and his wife, Julia Kim. Pyeonghwa and Julia had Filipino church members living with them when they lived in the United States. It’s been said that the Kims would have these members passports taken away and cut off their contact with friends and family in the Philippines.

In 2010, Moon declared that the college should prepare a thousand missionaries every year to go out to the world.

According to Robert Kittel of UPF, this yearlong "Tong-il Moo-do Training and Peace Studies” program for arrested drug users brings in over 100 participants since 2016. This is not a secular school, but explicitly teaches Unification theology.

By 2019, over 600 participants had completed this program, which consists of four months of martial arts training, four months of "character education", four months of community service, and Divine Principle training through all 12 months. Many of these participants went on to join CARP, and even joining the UC.

Kittel went on to say:

We tell them, When you enter the program, you're zero. That's your starting point. You're taking drugs, we know that. You're probably having sex, because they go together. You have no vision in your lives. You are probably wasting your lives and if you continue, your lives will absolutely be miserable. You will stay at zero for life if you want to. Lucky for you, you've got this program and when you graduate, you'll have discipline in your life. You'll have a martial arts degree; you'll have proficiency in English as a second language teacher. We are going to send these people around the world. We are already starting to do that.

A participant named Ronnie said this much:

I work at IELP, our university in the Philippines. Basically the program participants are the dregs of society. We are educating them. They get up each day at 5 am for Hoon Dok Hae. In 120 days, we give them three cycles of Divine Principle lectures, from the beginning until the end. After they graduate from that, they go for internship. They go to the field, teaching in different centers. We send some of them to different parts of the world, Fiji, Malaysia, India, Nepal. They are teaching Tong-il Moo-do. The sixth batch of 120 is graduating soon. Apart from that, they are conducting 120-day workshops in Nepal and in India. They have the skills because they are participating in international world CARP here in Korea, India and Africa. They participated and are receiving gold medals. Ninety percent of the ones in this group are dark hearts; they do not have vision. They do not know how to help themselves….

The Philippine government is sending recreational cannabis-smokers to a Moonie indoctrination camp. How this “school” functions is basically a year-long workshop. These are largely poor individuals who arrested for petty crimes, and they chose to attend this “school” to avoid prison time. While in this workshop, they are severely shamed by the faculty. These individuals are often in a very vulnerable position, both economically and emotionally, and the UC takes advantage of that, forcing these young people to sit through months of indoctrination, and offering them opportunities with the church all over the world. Unfortunately, most of these new members have no idea that Filipino members endure the harshest of labor trafficking in the Unification Church. Though some of these new members became missionaries abroad, their missions were to be free help for Korean church leaders and their families or to provide cheap or free labor to church companies and organizations.

Related: No ‘Koreanovela’ endings for Korean-Filipina marriages – many couples were photo matched by Sun Myung Moon The Unification Church trafficked thousands of Filipina women by 1996. Cases include women eventually sold into sex trade upon arrival in Korea. Willkie Farr Takes on Immigration Case of Former Unification Church Adherent Who Says He is Trafficking Victim Sun Myung Moon’s human trafficking and abuse of Japanese members in the US Labor Trafficking by the Unification Church at Master Marine in the East Sun Building Sun Myung Moon’s human trafficking and abuse of Japanese members in the US 6,500 women missing from Moon mass weddings

#unification church in the philippines #the philippines #human trafficking #labor trafficking #duterte #trafficking #pyeonghwa kim #julia kim #unification church in asia #international peace leadership college #pyunghwa kim

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elionwriter · 3 years

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PROMPT / DRAPLE OF A POSSIBLE FUTURE FIC (PART 2):

"I need your help, Mando" says Greef Karga in his holo-message one day. "I know how busy you are lately, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't so important and I didn't need someone I trust on this". When Din answers the call he learns the details of the mission: Greef had taken so much at heart the renovation and improvement of Nevarro that he had made contact and tried to help cells of patriots of other planets that wanted to attempt the same. One of said groups, on a backwashed planet of the Rim, was having some troubles with a Crime syndicate that thought their efforts would do bad for business. Din's mission was to meet these people and help them plan a strike against the criminal organisation.

Upon reaching the planet and looking around, Din sighs, thinking that it would take a miracle to rehabilitate the place. Everything and everyone is so dirty that he wonders how an epidemic hasn't broken out, the people looks like little, feral animals rather than sentients and he's pretty sure there are some commercial traffics going on that had been banned long before the Empire. Then again, he isn't really surprised, the laws and enforcements of the New Republic don't reach this part of the Galaxy, these planets don't even have representatives in the Senate to speak up for them. They're on their own.

It's as Din is waiting in a crowded square for his contact to arrive that he catches a set of eyes fixed on him. He had felt someone following him from the moment he had left his ship but they hadn't come out yet. He looks down at the creature staring at him with hudge magenta eyes, three of them, and quickly realises it's a child, a girl. She's of a species he has never seen before, with bright yellow skin and feathers covering her head (the yellow and fluff or her feathers is dampered by the grease and dirt), she has four feathery arms and bony legs. She smiles brightly at him and waves. "Need anything, kid?" He asks. "You're sooooo shiny and cool! Can I be your friend?" She asks, voice full of awe. There is no deception in that statement and Din chuckles at it. Patiently he tries to shoo away the child telling her that he is waiting for someone and that things are about to get dangerous.

She's completely undeterred by his words, smile still plastered on her face. So he follows a different line: "Shouldn't you go back to your parents?" " No." "Are they around here?" "No" "Aren't they worried you're out here on your own?" "No" He considers it a moment then asks "Do you...have parents?" "No" she answers with the same airly smile of before. "Anyone that takes care of you?" "No" "A home to go back to?" "No" "Friends...?" "Everyone is my friend. Do you also want to be my friend?" Din sighs, starting to loose patients, wondering what the hell is his contact waiting for to show up. Before he can say anything else the kid points at his blaster "Did you kill anyone with that?" "Yes, I did." "Cooool! Was it a really bad guy? Did a lot of blood come out?" As a last resort Din pulls out a handful of credits and proposes "If I buy you something to eat, will you leave?" She thinks it over a second and asks "can I have caramelled Meiloorun?" Din nods "Even the big one?" Din gets her the treat and watches her skip away happily. It's not long after that he is approached by the right hand man of the organisation he's supposed to aid.

He is brought back to their headquarters and they discuss matters out. Din is surprised to find that they are a group of very level minded and shrewd kids with very good projects for the future and feels more prompted to help them out. They study a plan to strike against the criminal organisation and call it a night. Din is welcomed to stay at their place. As he steps out of the run down building to catch a breather and take a look around he finds the same kid from before waiting for him outside. He asks how long she has been standing there and finds she had been standing there for almost the entirety of his stay. "Hadn't we agreed that you would leave?" He asks "I did leave. Then I came back!" Din sighs. She asks for his name but luckily doesn't really wait for an answer before giving her own. "My name is Ky'lla. Are we friends now?" Din tries very hard to mentally create an interference over the name. Learning her name is definitely not wise and he wonders why she is so stubborn on the idea of befriending him of all people. But as he notices the way she studies with shiny eyes his armour he thinks he starts to understand. "Are you following me because you like my armour?" "Yes! I like shiny things and this is the shiniest thing I've ever seen! Also, you're big and buff and you're really nice too! You bought me candy! Nobody ever buys me candy!" She says excitedly. Din known he shouldn't ask but the question is out before he can stop himself. "Where do you come from? What happened to your family?" She thinks it over a moment then points her finger towards the sky "My homeworld is in that direction. I came here with mom, but mom died a long time ago'. It's sad but I have a lot of friends now." Something tells Din that all the "friends" she talks about are just a bunch of random strangers and passer bye; that befriending everyone she meets is the kid's subconscious response to her loss. "Don't you remember the name of your planet? Or of any planet nearby?" "No. But I am pretty sure it's in that direction" she says pointing in a different position of the sky altogether. "And...were the people of your planet all of your same species?" "Yes, they were." Great, Din thinks, there's really nothing he can do for Ky'l..THE KID considering he has no idea where "there" in space is and has never seen anyone of her likes before. He sees her yawning. Well, there is one thing he can do. "Do you have anywhere to sleep?" "There's the back alley a few streets over with comphy sacks..." She answers and Din pushes her inside the building "tonight you're sleeping in here" he says directing her towards the room meant for him. She flops over on the bed and asks "can you tell me a story?" "Go to sleep" "But if you killed people you must know stories of battles and duels! Can you tell me the most scary one you know?" Din sighs but for some reason finds himself flopping on the floor, near the bed and telling her what they told him, the first nights he was brought into the covert, of the Mythosaurs and how the Mandalorians learned to tame and fly them. He falls asleep as the words and memories cling to him, as he envisions the pendant with the Mythosaur skull he had given Grogu. The pain for loss of him spreads through his tired body like a fresh wound. Ky'lla falls asleep whispering with awe the word "Mandalorian".

In the morning, he wakes her up, gives her a few ration packs and tells her that she really must stop following him now. For the first time she looks actually sad, but doesn't protest as she goes.

Din catches up with the rest of the group and together they prepare the assault to the criminal syndacate's main objective. At first everything goes as planned but quickly things get messy. Din realizes he has to expose himself more than he intended. Firing up the jetpack, he flies up to the targeted power generator and places a frag mine over it. He fires at will at all the enemies that try to approach but one expecially sneaky killer works his way behind him and, preparing his sniper rifle, aims at a junction in between Din's armour. Din notices him a moment too late as the trigger snaps. He braces for an impact that doesn't come. He looks at the man with surprise and finds terror and bewildermente on the other's face as well as he tries to fire over and over. The rifle is insistently empty. Din takes the moment and turns it to his advantage firing his own blaster which knocks the assassin down cold. "I was the one to steal the rifle's charges. Was I good or what!?" Chirpes in a familiar voice. Din is only partially surprised to find Ky'lla popping out of nowhere, proudly waving the rifle's cartridge around. He wants to thank her, ask her how in kriffin hell she managed that and scold her for putting herself in danger's way for him but his pragmatic mind refrained from that. He quickly pulls the child in his arms and flies them both away from there moments before the charge on the power generator goes off in a hudge explosion. "Whoaaa" Ky'lla exclaimes over his shoulder as flames and electric shocks destroy the surrounding space. The patriots cheer happily below as the last standing members of the criminal syndacate run away.

Din is celebrated like a hero but he pays the compliments no mind. One of the young women of the group cuts off a ringed finger from one of their victims and tosses it to Din "there's a hudge bounty on this one! You should collect it, it's the least we can do to thank you." Din accepts the prize and parts ways with the group, Ky'lla following him around like a shadow. When he reaches his new ship and opens the ramp to it Ky'lla takes a shy step backwards and says "I guess it's goodbye, then. It was nice being your friend..." Din smirks at her from behind the helmet and says "Do you really think I don't know you're just going to sneak into the ship somehow? Let's save time and come in." Ky'lla looks at him in disbelief "you really mean it?!" Din signals her to follow and with a high pitched squeel she goes to hug his legs. "I've got some friends, I'm sure one of them will accept to take care of you" he says, even as part of him already knows that the kid will stick to his side.

Din prepares the launch sequence and soon they are travelling in hyper space. He sends Ky'lla to immediately take a shower in the 'fresher and in the meantime he sends a message to Karga to report on the end of the mission and to prepare the money for the bounty he collected.

Ky'lla comes back to the cockpit looking ten times brighter and fluffier than she did before. "Since I'm staying with you for a while, can you teach me to fight like you do?!" Asks the child. "I could be very good! With four arms I could grab the bad guys from the scruff and tickle them to death!" She says stating her case. "Do you really want that? It's a difficult and intense training..." "Sure! And can I have an armour like yours too?!" "You must become a Mandalorian and earn each piece of it to have one." He says carefully testing the ground. "Then that's what I want to be: a Mandalorian! Can I?" "Well, technically everyone can become a Mandalorian..." "THAT'S AWESOME! Till yesterday I was no one and now I'm gonna become a Mandalorian!!! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" The child starts running around bursting at the seams with happiness. Din laughs. "I want to learn everything there is to know about Mandalorians!" She exclaims and Din sighs out a "Yeah, so do I" "Why, don't you know everything about them already? You are one" He explains that there are very few Mandalorians left, that a lot of their history and culture has been wiped out and that he had very limited access to what was left growing up.

Eventually, the kid tires out and falls asleep in her seat. Din looks back at her and replays all the recent events in his mind, trying to figure out just how he found himself with a new kid under his responsibility. This had been a wrong move. The last time he did so broke his heart and even if it was the right thing to do, he doesn't know if he can get over that same loss again. His latest adventure however lights up a sudden and inspired idea in his mind. He reaches for the console and sends out two holo messages. One to Luke Skywalker and the other to Bo-katan Kryze asking her where to meet up and stating with confidence that he has a proposition for her.

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obsidiancorner · 3 years

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ObiYuki- Terminator

Wherever You Go- Chapter 2 Word count: 1400

They are in and out of their respective surgeries and training faster than Shirayuki would have suspected. It was still a couple of months worth of what amounted to rehabilitation since their whole lives had changed when they went under the knife. They’d both had implantations put in just behind their ears, similar to a cochlear implant but with more extensive wiring involved which allowed her and Obi to communicate without words and that was something that took some getting used to. Tapping the bone behind the ear turned on communication, similar to that of a radio but on a frequency only their specific implants and brains can communicate on. That was all the augmentation Shirayuki had to go through.

The rest of her time had been spent in learning battle tactics, how to work on the hardware that had been installed on Obi and the software within the computer system now attached to his chest, resting behind a new skeletal system of Titan Steel ribs that are hydraulically powered to lift away from his body to act as a bumper in case of high energy impacts using a more advanced version of their vehicles’ collision avoidance technology. But those weren’t the only alterations made to Obi’s body.

Oh, no.

His retina on his right eye was replaced with a micro screen that can see the infrared color spectrum. It is terrifying to look at when it is turned on- though she will never tell him, since it turns his beautiful golden eye a hellfire red.

It was awful the first time he turned it on and she knew he watched her body heat make a subtle but notable dip by a degree as the chill of fear sought out every nook and cranny of her entire body.

He’d raised his hand to that bone behind his ear and she panicked over what he was going to say to her. “You okay,” he’d asked her, and he looked the least assured she’d ever seen him when she only managed a nervous and weak attempt at a smile and the most subtle bob of her head to indicate a ‘yes.’

They’ve come a long way since then. He knows now she just hadn’t been expecting it and he confessed that when he saw himself in the mirror as the bandages were pulled off, he had felt the same way she had.

It just reinforced and still to this day reinforces that he had gone through such a drastic transformation. He’d been in lengthy surgeries off and on for a week before everything was done. But nothing had stopped her in her tracks like his glowing red eye. Thankfully, he’s figured out how to turn it on and off at will by now.

A self contained air system was added to his back to work in low or no oxygen environments and he has a whole exoskeleton suit to go over everything made of the same new steel his internal structuring- complete with some sort of bizarre skin-like texturing over the top so he could pass for a much bulkier version of himself should he ever need to undress in front of anyone not qualified to know that he has been turned into a very real cousin of the cyborgs of science fiction.

What was the most unnerving of all, though, is when they’re in their training sessions and the skin-like covering to his exoskeleton unravels itself so he can use the plasma blasters concealed in his mechanical palms.

As the training regimen mounted in difficulty to prepare them for what lies ahead, Izana’s intelligence team gathered known targets through various infrared camera systems placed throughout the country. Traffic cameras; security cameras at banks, police stations, government buildings, hospitals, and even some highly frequented shopping malls; as well as intelligence officers sporting IR sensitive glasses were all in use to work in tandem with facial recognition software that allows them to match heat signatures with faces since the alien population ran much colder than natural humans and their facades only masked it, leaving them appearing as hypothermic humans to any infrared scanner.

Within six months, they rolled out as a team toward their first assignment: the assassination of a reclusive confirmed alien, living out in the woods near the tanbarun border.

----------

Year: Ad Pacem- 1107

Months turn into several years as time passes so slowly and so quickly all the same as Obi and Shirayuki become the top ranking covert ops pair. Meanwhile, the aliens developed better concealment techniques, leaving Clarines to also alter their detection methods.

As bodies of assassinated aliens rolled into the university at Lilias, studies revealed they had a different blood type entirely. It appeared human to the naked eye, but when tested, it revealed an extra component so blood testing became a requirement for anyone going into government buildings, hospitals, and other necessary buildings for basic human life. A quick prick of the finger was all that was needed, like testing for blood sugar.

It was only after that system of testing rolled out that a file for Touka Bergatt, a member of Clarines nobility, hit Shirayuki’s desk as their next mission. Once she was done processing their target, she reached up a shaky hand to press the comm button on her mastoid bone.

“H-hey, Obi?”

“You wrang,” he drawls, as the door to her office slides open, revealing an exoskeleton free and shirtless Obi, drying his hair with a towel he quickly discards in a heap in the corner, done with no purpose other than to get under her skin. “Excellent timing, by the way. I was just heading to see a handler about a mission.” He whips the chair beside her around and plops down with his legs stretched out and his arms crossed and resting over the chair back. “Rumor has it that our new mission came in.”

She levels him with a glare because that is impossible. This mission is top secret. He was likely coming to remind her that lunch had been served two hours ago and she hadn’t left her office since she walked in at six this morning.

“I’ll eat something later,” she remarks without looking at him. He chuckles as she punches a few keys on her keyboard and Touka’s face pops out of the hologram monitor on her desk.

Obi snorts as he drops his head onto his hands. “You didn’t really call me in to look at his obnoxious face, did you? You know he’s not my type.” His head rolls to the side so he can look at her and he pokes her in the ribs in a quick but soft jab.

He’s teasing but his cavalier attitude is grating since she knows what she knows and he hasn’t even asked about the importance of what is happening. Without looking, she thrusts the burn-after-reading level of classified dossier into his chest and ignores the fact that the bone of her wrist smacked into his external ribbing hard enough she’ll have a bruise later.

“He’s our next mark-” she turns to face him- “you ass.”

She felt rather pleased with herself as she watched the color drain from his face. At least it’s sinking in now.

“Miss,” he says as he flips through the file with Touka’s expected upcoming engagements both private and public. “This is going to be hard.”

She sighs. The risks are high with this one. “I know.”

----------

Taking him out was a nightmare. He was never alone- not even in sleep. There was always someone keeping an eye on him. It took a month of staking him out to learn the singular weak point in his coverage. Once a week, on Monday evening, he was allowed ten minutes of completely private time. He spent it locked in his room at his compound, sitting on a call with some unknown woman.

It was then Obi struck, perched high on a hill from almost a mile away. Just before he made his call.

The instruction to ‘leave him afterwards and let his death look like a standard assassination’ was a gross miscalculation by King Izana’s intelligence committee. Touka Bergatt was not only King Izana’s biggest opponent and most vocal dissenter in the political sphere, but he was also the highest ranked alien in Clarines- information Izana’s team hadn’t found yet.

His assassination led to an active invasion. Within the week, several small ships and one monster lead ship moving into the Earth’s immediate neighborhood in space, positioning themselves just outside of Earth’s orbit.

#ObiYukiBingo21 #Terminator #ObiYuki #Cyberpunk AU #Far Future Fic #Listen yall #I dont care much for how I ended this thing but honestly if I didnt go that route it was gonna get LOOOOOOONNNGGG #so I opted for a short intro to the next space - Space Opera #sorry guys 😬

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widowsofchaos · 4 years

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Can I request “147. “I’m not sure how many coffees it takes to be happy, but so far, it’s not twelve” from the prompts list??❤️

❝ Never Enough Coffee

summary: black coffee is vital for one grumpy unstable 100 year old man.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x black!reader

Cait, I love you so much. It’s not even funny! Thanks for requesting, you’re the damn best. Icon? Indeed. I did this with Bucky, cause we just a bunch hoes for that beautiful dork. <3

Fluff, grumpy Bucky, Sam, and Bucky banter, and a smidge of implied smut. I apologize that this isn’t that good, or have poetic wordplay that I’m practicing, I just haven’t written anything in over two years, so be gentle with me! Lmfao, I hope y’all like this! Pls request more!

Requested from this prompt list.

Do Not Repost My Works!

It’s a crime.

A crime against humanity — not even Captain fucking America going against the Accords, against 117 fucking countries can touch the immense severity of this.

It’s bright and sunny, 8 o’clock in the morning to be exact, and Bucky Barnes – the Sargent of the Howling Compandos, Brooklyn’s forgotten 40s’ Casanova, the Winter Soldier, the fist of HYDRA, a ghost story, one of the best assassins in world history, right next to Romanoff, respectfully — is up and out of bed.

And he’s ready to have heads roll.

The compound’s windows are wide open and the sun is mockingly baring it’s warm ass into his groggy eyes. His nose is scrunched up in annoyance, sitting in the compound’s kitchen, as he begrudgingly sips his coffee — black like his soul.

“Good morning, old man.” A sing-song tone pierces through the air, disrupting any peace and quiet Bucky clings for.

Of fucking course.

“Fuck off, tweety.” Bucky’s lowly growled as he sipped his beverage. A sneaky chuckle filtered behind him, “Tsk, is someone a little grumpy?” Sam’s babified tone causes Bucky to clench his metal hand into a fist, the metal softly rearing.

Samuel Wilson, a former United States Air Force pararescue airman. Use to work at the Veterans Affairs department to assist soldiers for rehabilitation services, and much more. Has been an helping aid for Bucky during his rehabilitation back at Wankanda.

A man of honor.

But as of today, Sam is in the same damn boat as Bucky. Grumpy, exhausted, and infuriated. Not an soldier, not the Falcon, just Samuel Wilson. A man who yearns for his bed. So fuck honor right now, he’s wants to push buttons. A bilious man on a mission.

Waking up early for a long meeting among the Avengers, and then training new S.H.I.E.L.D recruits. Long strenuous hours of combat, practice at the gun range — oh God, he’s not ready.

He was a inch away from ripping Steve’s head off earlier at 6 in the morning, to go for their run. Almost flipping Steve off, and tell him to ‘go fuck himself in his perfectly sculpted patriotic ass’. He didn’t though. Rogers didn’t deserve that.

Barnes on the other hand?

If Sam has to be miserable on this damn boat with Bucky, best believe he’s gonna make him suffer along with him. Barnes and Wilson are kindred spirits when it comes to terms of bickering. A love-hate yin-yang, can’t live with each other, and can’t live without each other.

All for one, bitch. Wrestle with Barnes off the boat—figuratively.

If only.

Gripping the mug tighter in his flesh hand — just a little more tighter and Bucky could crack the cup into multiple little pieces.

But he won’t let his frustration get the best of him, no matter how much Sam gets a hard-on for pissing the WWII veteran off.

It’s a NASA mug you bought for him, a constant reminder that lets him know how you pay attention to his personal interests, and he cherishes everything you buy him.

Just being in your presence is the only gift he ever truly wants.

A whirring noise infiltrated through the air, and entering the kitchen. A gust of air whipped against Bucky’s dome, a flash of red and grey wizzing by.

The ungraceful flight caused Bucky’s long chestnut tresses to be ruffled in different directions, and even get his ends in his eyes; earning a belly laugh from Sam, and a programmed chirp from the infuriating metallic bird.

Redwing. The trusty companion of Sam. His empathic link, his side-kick — a pain in the ass. Might as well be Sam’s child. Jesus — it is.

“I swear Wilson, one of these days, I’m gonna get Alphine to destroy that thing. Don’t be surprised to find it dead with claws marks, and chewed wires.” Bucky’s steel gaze that bored into Sam’s soul, spoke volumes of distain.

“You will do no such thing! You keep your furry menace away from my child!” Sam roared, extending a threatening finger at Bucky, his brown face turning a shade of slight burgundy as his face flushed with rage.

Sweetly petting Redwing on it’s head, whispering assurances that no act on it’s life will occur.

“Then tell your kid to stop baderging me in the morning!”

“It’s not his fault, you’re a grumpy old man!”

“Shut up!”

“At least, my son is just playing around! What about Alphine?! She’s an attention-seeking hog, and always fucking with everybody. But the moment you or y/n walk through the door, she’s a little angel! Her grimy little paws behind her back! Your kid is indeed a menace!” Sam’s sneered as he protectively held Redwing against his chest.

“You take that back! She’s a good girl!” Bucky’s stood up from his chair, ready to fight. His Alphine? An angel! His sweet little princess!

Another heinous crime in Bucky’s books: don’t ever insult Alphine.

Sam and Bucky kept bickering back and forth, voices rising higher and higher. Tempers flying. Releasing their frustrations onto each other, insults hitting each other like bullets, but yet not a slight crack in their shield of friendship.

“Would you two stop it?” A sweet melodic voice rang through the two aggressive voices that dominated the area. Bucky’s head swiftly turned to see you standing at the kitchen entryway in all your glory.

Even with messy bed hair of your curls straying in different directions, in Bucky’s eyes the curls was voile and woven by baby cherubs. His mind going hay-wire with the mantra of mineminemine when he see his red Henley that was hanging over your shoulder, perky breasts bounce effortlessly against the fabric, and weary eyes — you glowed as if you had an halo.

As if diamonds and pearls were glimmering underneath your pores — illuminating a shimmering bronze complexion.

“Good morning, doll.” A genuine smile curled on Bucky’s dreary mug, hightlighting. Dashing and wrapping his biceps around your waist, softly kissing you, instinctively you ensnared your forearms around his neck, clinging onto him like a life-line. A small whimper erupted in the back of his throat.

This is what he needs. To stay in today, and crawl in bed with you, and be as one. Craft a makeshift of the walls of a womb, limbs entangled, inhaling breaths, lulled by synchronized heartbeats.

“Good morning, doll.” Sam mocking Bucky’s endearment in a lower octave, a poor imitation,garning a low snarl from Bucky.

“Stop it you two. It’s too early for this shit.” You sighed, eyes closed, as you basked in Bucky’s natural sweet musky and mint scent. Rubbing your nose in his broad chest.

Both of you tuning out Sam slamming the refrigerator door as he scoured for ingredients, and clanging his pan on the stove to prepare his breakfast.

Bucky grumbled incoherent colorful hexes as he gingerly placed chaste kisses against your hairline. Sniffing your hair, needing to scent you like a wolf to gather his bearings.

You giggled at the breathy pecks, refusing to let you go, such a possessive teddy bear he is.

“Jesus, he can’t function without you.” Sam chided, as he cracked eggs into the sizzling pan, wordlessly Bucky buried his face into your curls, to prevent giving Sam a good old fashion tongue-lashing.

“Sam, knock it off. Just because you’re angry, doesn’t mean you have to bother Bucky.” A grin stretched on Bucky’s bearded jaw. His best girl always defending him.

“Nah, he’s insulted Redwing. Made my boy feel bad, remember I can feel everything he feels. And right now? He ain’t feeling all to happy.”

Chest puffed, demonstrating an angry father protecting his metallic pup, “Barnes needs to apologize!”

Softly tugged at the long hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck, Bucky whines from being detached from your hair, sternly gazing into his blue-grey pools, “Baby, what did you say?”

Guilt floods him, he didn’t mean it, he’s just — angry! “I said I would get Alphine to hurt Redwing—”

“Threats of claws and wire chewing!”

Bucky winced, “But he said Alphine was an attention hog! That’s she a menace! Our little one isn’t that!” Bucky whined. You had to stifle a laugh, oh for sure, Sam is right on the money.

Alphine is a spoiled brat, but it’s still wrong. She’s a good girl when she wants to be.

“First Bucky apologize to Redwing, and Sam—” your eyes shift to look beyond Bucky’s broad shoulder, to see Sam rolling his eyes, “Apologize to Bucky.”

Both men grumble like over-grown toddlers, “Fine.” Bucky yields, “Alright.” Sam caves in. Bucky reluctantly turns his body to face Sam, “I’m sorry Sam and Redwing. I didn’t mean what I said. Redwing isn’t bad.” Bucky looked to the metal bird, genuinely apologetic.

“I’m sorry too. Alphine isn’t a menace.” Sam mumbled, resuming to petting Redwing. “Okay, good. Now that we’re back to friends, let’s have some breakfast.” You faux cheery tone set a serene atmosphere.

Redwing flew and circled around you, chirping a hello. You blew a kiss to the empathic companion, as it took it’s rightful place back on Sam’s shoulder.

Bucky resumed back to his seat, to mull over his coffee, and Sam back to continue to prepare his omelette, wordlessly.

You smirked as you snaked your way to hug Bucky from behind. A chaste kiss on his temple, a shiver crawling down his spine.

Your nimble fingers found refugee in Bucky’s long waves, massaging his scalp by the pads of your tips.

His lashes fluttered closed, savoring your touch. “Yes, doll. Just like that.” His head hung backwards, his chiseled face facing you.

You placed a lingering kiss on his forehead, as you didn’t relent your soothing kneading. A broken moan escaped Bucky, not caring that his grunt was near close to the spectrum of pornographic.

Sam nearly vomited over his sizzling eggs, “Ew, both of you knock it off.”

“Oh shut it, Foghorn.” You muttered, plump lips inches away against Bucky’s forehead. Painting silver-toned kisses on his smooth skin, Bucky snorted.

“Son, I say – I say, ah he’s about as sharp as a bowling ball.” Bucky’s sardonic jeering guised under a over-extragerated southern accent making you both burst into fits of laughter. A pissing on the iconic cartoonish rooster. He open his eyes, as you two laughed, Bucky just adores your cute giggles. How your nose scrunches upward.

“Oh ha, ha, ha. You both are assholes.” Sam grunted, as he thrusted his spatula in the pan to fold his omelette.

“We made a funny son and you’re not laughin’ ”, you participated in the wisecracking, in an nasally southern belle accent, quoting the famous rooster.

“Knock it off.” Sam murmured, his eyes lowered, throwing daggers at the cackling couple. The chuckles died down, “Alright, alright, we’re sorry, Sam.” You fluttered your eyes at Sam, “You know I adore Falcons.” You delicately plant your chin on Bucky’s dome, as he repositions his head.

“I prefer Hawks.” Bucky’s kvetch crawls under Sam’s skin, “Hey!” He shouted, “Enough!” You chuckled, stoping anymore childish fights.

“I need more coffee to handle him.” Bucky spoke as he gulped down the rest of his caffeine’s beverage. You took the mug from him, “I’ll get you more, baby.” Twisting your head to his side-profile, you meshed your lips on his.

Bucky has a small goofy grin, “Thank you, doll.”

Sam finally finished with his breakfast preparations, sat at the island far away from Bucky, you quickly replaced his silver-ware with a plastic fork and knife.

No stabbing at this early hour.

One incident of an injured bird, and wolf was enough.

“I have a rising suspension that this isn’t your first cup this morning” you peered over your shoulder, to see Bucky just hazily staring at you, chin leaning on the heel of his palm.

He hummed in response, “Not even close, doll.”

“I can tell, you’re a little grumpy today. Although, I don’t want you strung out on caffeine just so you won’t rip someone’s head off.” The steam of black coffee wafts in the air, as it poured and slushed in the coffee maker.

Bucky fussed, “You know I’m not a particularly happy fella, doll.”

“Well, I just want my man to be happy.” The coffee-maker dinged, signaling the coffee was finished. Quickly taking the pot out to pour the hot steaming blackness into the cup, and making your way to Bucky.

“And if it means, making you a shit-ton of coffee, just to get you to crack a smile, so be it.” A toothy smile winked at Bucky, your shiny oval-arlyic nails scratched behind Bucky’s ear — his sweet spot.

It took all his strength and restraint in his body not to take you right there in the kitchen,

“I’m not sure how many coffees it takes to be happy, but so far, it’s not twelve.” Bucky lifted the cup to his pink lips, his eyebrows wiggled at you jokingly. Sam choked on his chewed eggs, drinking water to wash down the food that traveled down the wrong pipe.

“Jesus, Buck —” cough. “Twelve?!” Sam was patting down his lips with his napkin, “I would crawling up the walls by now like a crackhead.”

You snorted, bent over, lowering your lips to Bucky’s ear, salutary and husky, “I wish you had me crawling up the walls, babe.” It was now Bucky’s turn to choke, narrowing his eyes to you, “Don’t start something you can’t finish, doll.”

“I’m not doing anything.” Your hands innocently in surrounder, defensely, “I’m behaving.” Your coy smirk said differently.

A debauched moan grumbled in Bucky’s thoart, “You know what — fuck work today, I’m gonna have you front, side-ways, and the back. All damn day. Now that put a fucking smile on my face.” Bucky stood up from his seat, his intimating stature hovering over you.

Sam’s arms flew in the air in defeat, bile rising in his throat to the mental picture of two of his closest friends having cotious.

“We eat here.” He whispered under his breath, very aware of Bucky being able to hear him crystal clear.

You shuddered, “Really ... ? How about we start to have sex right here, right now?” You sunk your nails against his chest, trailing down his torso. Bouncing on the tips of your toes, to kitty lick the tip of Bucky’s nose.

“NO! Why do you two get off torturing me?! Go fuck in your room, you heathens!” Sam roared, picking up his empty plate to clean in his sink, Redwing chirped in agreement.

“Twah, poor baby.” You lean over, after jokingly leering at the birdman, stepping forward to Bucky. Tilting your head up to him, his natural body heart buzzing over you, pressing your lips to his, meeting you half-way.

“C’mon angel, let’s get back to bed.” Bucky mumbled against your lips, softsoftsoft, so this is what love feels like. As if his soul had a million suns radiating in his cavity, circling around his heart like fiery orbs. Happiness stretching like the milky way, interstellar clouds of dust decorating in his hues, grey-blue of spiral galaxies of adoration beam right back at you.

To be touched — to be loved.

Bucky linked his calloused fingers in yours, you loved the contrast your bodily textures. Bucky was soft buried underneath hardened shields of battles and trauma. You love to trace his scars – the scarrings of an old soul.

Bucky and yourself practically skipped out of the kitchen, with not so much of a goodbye to Sam.

No offense taken, he knows he’ll see the two soulmates later. A little frustrated that he’ll be training recruits solo today, but what can he do? Love cannot be stopped.

Sam snickered, happy that those two are happy and care-free. “Look at those lovebirds, Redwing. Ah, our favorite type of birds.”

tags: just tagging my favorite writers and mutuals who inspire me and had the pleasure of talking to:

@darkficsyouneveraskedfor @helahades @cake-writes @nacho-bucky @cherrypickertheory @sinner-as-saint @imanuglywombat @bugsbucky @romantic-barnes @speechlessxx @honeybucks @cherienymphe @venusbarnes @wkemeup @simsadventures @invisibleanonymousmonsters @ozarkthedog @sebbybarness @avintagekiss24 @wiensrsoldier @all1e23 @xetoilerouge @et-lesailes @spacesnail3000 @moonbeambucky @buckyskorpion @buckysknifecollection @buckys-darling @sapphirescrolls @bitsandbobsandstuff @extremelyblackandwhite @scrumptious-delusion @until-we-fall-in-love @fafulous @rogueobservation @your-persephone-writes @sophiria @cpn-hydra @browngirlmagic @jobean12-blog @carolmaximoffs @caws5749 @marvelcapsicle @star-spangled-beard-burn @missmonsters2 @xbuchananbarnes @captain-kelli @fvckingavengers @suz-123 @redgillan (there’s much more I wanted to add but I couldn’t fit more in, lol!)

#buckybarnesplumwhore wrote this #buckybarnesplumwhore’s drabbles #drabble prompts #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes drabble #marvel fanfic

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perfect-fourth · 3 years

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[ Contrary to what one might expect of a ‘prison’, Jhin’s 19 years in Tuula actually weren’t traumatic and horrible for the most part. Of course, it was still a prison for him, and he was kept under careful observation at all times.

Their aim at keeping him imprisoned in Tuula was rehabilitation as averse to punishment(something they were never successful at). Jhin had a lot of privileges while he was imprisoned, and he was on a first name, buddy-buddy basis with most of the monks who resided there. He also developed most of his cooking skills in Tuula, as they’d eventually assign him to to the kitchen to help prepare the days meals for everyone in the monastery. He was trusted enough for this, even if he did, on occasion, “slip-up” in his “healing process” and murder a stray monk or four-- which wasn’t as often as you’d think. Being as exposed as he was in Tuula, he tended to shut that part of himself off as much as he could; for a multitude of reasons.

One big reason they refuse to kill him and seek to try and heal him from whatever is wrong with his mind is due to the sheer improbability of death in Ionia. The chance of him coming back as a vengeful, and likely incredibly powerful spirit should he die, is way too high to risk.

Jhin is 100% aware that this is one of the reasons he’s still alive, and while a part of him does actually want to try to get better, he knows that that would probably mean he’d end up being assassinated shortly after he was ‘fixed’. It would also inhibit his ability to create, not just in the sense of uh... murder art, but as a whole, which is something he wholeheartedly believes shouldn’t be repressed or stifled. He also just doesn’t really believe he can be redeemed, on a more depressing note. What is done is done, no redemption, yada yada, dramatic introspective tortured artist noises. ]

#headcanons #jhin #tuula #death

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jjba-hell · 4 years

Text

Take of Epitheus

So this is the second half of my most recent piece. Context for reader’s relations and abilities were stated here- you can read the pieces separately (but I’d appreciate if you read them together UwU)

Prompt chosen was: Happy ending because a happy ending for us would have just been if our faves could LIVE

Triggers: mention of death, caring and rehabilitation of extreme bodily trauma (I guess you could put that under gore?) dark yet hopeful

@giogio-gucci-gangstar @risottoneroo @lasquadraweek2020 @junosartsthetic

2,5K words, gender neutral reader- good luck

“Will you please stop being a crybaby and let me take off the bandages already?”

You were busy finicking with Formaggio’s bandaged chest- the burns he had gotten over most of his body needed intensive care but he whined about it every step of the way.

“Hey hey! Come on, be gentle with me!”

Your gaze shot up to meet his cringing face. “I AM GENTLE!”

You moved quicker- opting to rip off the stained gauze from the burn ointment that peeled off the burnt skin with a sticky squelch.

“Would you rather have Melone do it?” You grumbled, more to yourself but he grabbed your wrist.

“No! Please no, you at least listen when I whine- he just ignores me.” In his eyes you could actually imagine seeing some form of desperate pleading so you sighed, continuing to gently remove the rest of the gauze.

“Can I put the air conditioning on for you while I prepare the soak?”

He looked so ashamed of himself as he nodded, you couldn’t help but feel a scrap of sympathy for him.

Now that everything was over with the Boss’s take down, you were left having to rehabilitate your team back to functioning people. Your stand could only heal so much- mostly keeping their souls attached to their bodies- but the physical healing you had to do yourself.

Formaggio could at least stand up and lead himself to the bath you had prepared for him but some of the others weren’t so lucky. Prosciutto took a particularly bitter hit at his pride with his busted right leg which you had no choice but to amputate so getting him clean was a particularly tense event you deeply dreaded.

You advised Formaggio to take his time in the bathroom as you changed the bedsheets but you knew he had limited mobility so you’d need to help him with his back.

Pesci wasn’t so lucky...he was in literal pieces, Illuso was still in the hospital you dumped him in while Melone was doing the research to find the cure for the disease still ravaging his system. Melone got off pretty well- you had recognized the snake that bit him and got him on anti-venom within a few minutes so he was back on his feet in a week- albeit a bit mute. Ghiacchio was holding on for dear life- you had replaced his windpipe but you’d be lucky if he wasn’t paralyzed from the neck down. Risotto was luckily just a few gunshot wounds heavier but they weren’t the only ones you had chained back to their bodies.

You slid down on the edge of the bath beside Formaggio to run some of the water over his back. His shoulders slumped. You understood why- they were all like this. They felt defeated- by their own sudden inability and you couldn’t reassure them that they were lucky enough to be alive, figuring you’d personally rather be dead than hanging on for dear life.

“You can help yourself right?”

He could only nod.

You got up and let him help himself, wrapping him back up in bandages and gauze before wrapping up the laundry and taking out the food from the freezer to thaw for his dinner. “Call me when you need me.”

Outside Formaggio’s apartment you popped the trunk of your car and tossed the second batch of laundry into the trunk. A few cars behind your own, another car door opened and out stepped a dirty blonde in a red suit.

You narrowed your eyes at him as he approached, suddenly noticing how young he was.

“What do you want, kid?”

You called back as he approached. The second he took a step too close to your liking you gave one back. “That’s close enough. What do you want?”

“You’re La Squadra’s healer, aren’t you?”

“What about it?”

“You saved some of my friends a few days ago.”

You couldn’t help but lift an eyebrow. “You worked under Bucciarati?”

“Yes- I do. Or rather, used to. Listen, I’ve been tracking you and this is the third time you’ve come here this week... what are you doing?”

You racked your brain for a second. Part of your stand’s ability- working with the chain that links soul to body allowed you to see some memories people held near the end of their lives.

The kid wrapped in flowers at the coliseum... that’s where you’ve seen his face before.

“Panacotta Fugo?” You guessed from the names you’d heard in the kid’s soul.

His eyes widened a bit. “Yes, how did you-“

“The kid I saved at the coliseum... you were in his memories. Could’ve sworn you were nowhere to be seen, though.”

At this point you were playing mind games with Fugo, you didn’t need more complications to your life.

“I’m trying to help you. You probably know Giorno-“

“That blonde kid that healed Abbachio.” Of course you were referencing the other man you had found on the beach after you helped Risotto.

“Yes, I‘ve come to understand that you’ve been working around the clock to heal your teammates. You can keep people alive but not heal them.” He seemed to be a bit annoyed by finding a new way to approach the subject he wanted to talk about without you changing the subject.

You leaned against the back door of your car. “Then you’ve also figured out why I didn’t come running to the new Don to heal my teammates.”

You refused to continue giving this kid more information so you popped the driver seat door open.

“Bucciarati owes you, as does Abbacchio, and Narancia. Surely that’s enough leverage for you to gain something out of the situation.” He said simply, trying to get closer which you answered with another step back.

You pondered the idea- thinking out loud. “Three wishes from the Don’s inner circle but nothing from the Don himself. Hmmmm.” You tapped your fingers against the roof of the car. “Still can’t figure out why YOU came to deliver this news.”

Fugo seemed to curl in on himself, casting his gaze down at the pavement beside him. “I’m grateful for you saving them when I was too much of a coward to even join them on their crusade. If it weren’t for you, half of them would be dead.”

“Hm. And what insurance do I have that this isn’t some kind of trap?”

Fugo’s gaze shot back up with shock in his eyes. “A trap? Why would you think this was a trap?”

You shrugged. “A traitorous group of skilled assassins? You’d be missing on a grand opportunity to weed out any dangers for the new Don.”

The realization dawned on Fugo’s face- it was clearly not something he had considered.

“Tell Bucciarati that I’ll be at Libechio’s tomorrow at noon for half an hour. I’ll bite from him.”

And with that you stepped into your car and left. You came to a final stop at Risotto’s apartment- trying to get the stubborn bastard to rest instead of trying to walk on his janky leg.

“You seem less patient.” He grumbled as you eventually plopped down on the couch with a groan.

“Yeah, I’m chewing through my own problems.”

He slid down in the seat across the living room from you. “Which would be...?”

“One of Bucciarati’s old underlings came to me- promising some shit about helping me.”

Risotto’s eyebrow shot up. “Help you with what?”

“Taking care of you guys, Ris. I can only heal you so much but the Don can actually fix you.”

“Why would he offer the help?”

You sighed- forgetting that you hadn’t told any of them about what you did after you got Risotto to safety.

“Because I offered mine. There’s three of them that got a new lease of life because of me.”

Risotto seemed to digest your words behind his curled up fist, propped up on his lap.

“I’m not stupid, Ris. I know how dangerous it is. So I figured I’ll talk to the ones that owe me, personally.”

He lifted his head a bit, frowning up at you. “And what would you ask the three of them?”

“Heal you guys fully, of course.”

“But three of them are indebted to you.”

It took you a moment to click what he was getting at.

“You’re implying I ask for three things.”

“You can finally leave the mafia.”

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. Was it really how far you’d come? Had you come full circle? Was it time for you to finally do what you’ve been dying to for years?

You’d soon find out as you sat down at your table at Libechio’s with a hot plate of food- a commodity you’d been refusing yourself since Formaggio got burnt.

You’d just finished when Bucciarati walked in, unaccompanied for once.

“You look good for someone who used to be half dead.” You commented as you slid back in your seat, leaning one arm over the backrest with a cup of coffee in your other hand.

“I have you to thank for that.” He smiled warmly, sliding into the seat across from you.

You swirled your coffee in your cup, trying to get the sweetener at the bottom to dissolve into the black liquid.

“You were a weird case- it’s not often the chain gets broken and someone latches themselves back on.”

Bucciarati laughed, folding his hands over each other on the table. “You make it sound like you helped me out of curiosity.”

“You think I did it out of kindness?”

He tipped his head to one side, as if he was trying to understand you. “Why else would you?”

Ah, the billion lire question. You didn’t know why you ran down the beach to grab hold onto Abbachio’s soul until his team mates came over. You didn’t know why your first reaction to Narancia’s soul floating out of his body was to grab hold and wait until it could return to its body. You didn’t know why you desperately begged Bucciarati to zip his soul back together. But it didn’t change the fact that you did and it was Diavolo’s who was sent into oblivion.

It couldn’t possibly have been because you were a good person. Were you banking on having these debts paid out? You certainly weren’t thinking it at the time.

“I don’t know, in all honesty. Suppose it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

Bucciarati’s tea arrived a few moments later and as he was adding the sugar he came forward with the reason for your meeting.

“As far as you probably know, my team and I are indebted to you but you are, understandably, mistrustful about the olive branch offered to you.”

You scoffed. “That’s an understatement, however I’ve come to offer collateral for our dealings.”

Bucciarati seemed to freeze in place, his teacup halfway to his mouth as you leaned in.

“And what would that be?”

“Simply reverting you back to your previous state. It’s as simple as that.”

Bruno placed his teacup back into its saucer with a serious look on his face. “May I ask you a question, y/n?”

You leaned forward with your arm on the table. “Of course.”

“What is it that you’ll be asking of us?”

You took a steady breath. You were unsure if you were going to indulge in this but it was do or die at this stage.

“For Abbachio’s life, I want my team healed completely- all damage inflicted on them needs to be reverted. I know what Giorno’s stand is capable of and I know he can heal them- even restore limbs as far as my understanding goes.”

Bruno only nodded. “Understood.”

“Second...” the words got caught in your throat but with a shaky determination you uttered the words. “I want to disappear. I want nothing to do with this gang, ever again. My existence, as far as any of you are concerned, is unknown.”

With a slight reluctance he nodded. “And your last request?”

“My team get the last request to do whatever they want. Weather that be to earn the Don’s loyalty or chicken out like me, the decision is theirs. And I expect you to respect it.”

Bruno met your gaze head on, before giving a heavy sigh. “Your requests seem fair. But you’ll have to ask Giorno yourself.”

You left Libechio with Bruno, sitting down in the back seat as Fugo drove you there- his eyes glancing up at the rear view mirror to yours every now and again.

“How old are you, Fugo?” You eventually asked. You could tell he was young but if he had just been on verging on 21 or 22, you weren’t sure.

“17.”

Your jaw dropped a bit at that formation. “Ah, life’s done you dirty you and you, Bruno?”

“Turning 21 in a few months.”

“Fuck. You’re infants.” You huffed as you leaned your elbow against the door.

“You’re not that much older than us.”

You couldn’t help but throw your head back and laugh. “I passed 20 a long time ago. Back when things were much simpler.”

For a moment you rode in silence until you sat up and spoke to car as a whole. “Simply speaking as a coward and an unwilling participant in this bullshit, lemme ask- don’t you wish you were normal?”

You never did get an answer, not even a glance in the mirror from Fugo...

You didn’t say anything as you arrived at the villa, tiredly hauling yourself out of the car and following Bruno through the expansive hallways. You’d seen Giorno before- you knew he was young so you figured he and Fugo were the same age, or at least so you hoped- oh the team’s going to pop their stitches at hearing their ages.

You walked past Mista, the gunslinger that helped take down Ghiacchio, so you stopped in your tracks, turned to him and surveyed his face. “So that’s what you look like up close.”

Mista shrugged with a slight smile- was that... dare you say... personality?

He was about to open his mouth to say something to you but the baritone voice of Abbachio had you turning around to find him approaching you from a different hallway. “You know I never did catch your name.”

When you had held onto Abbachio’s soul on the beach, you had sensed some struggle within him- you recognized his story, understood what he was going through... but for men like him, coming back from the dead had two possible effects- either anger for refusing them the relief of death... or peace and clarity.

“You don’t need it. How’s life?” You smirked at him. He gestured for Mista to leave- which he did with a roll of his eyes so you and Leone were standing in the hallway alone.

“I wanted to ask you something... when I was dead, I saw things, people I’m pretty sure I would only have seen in the afterlife...”

“They’re real and chances were you were in the limbo between living and dead for the duration of the experience but I pulled you back.”

He glanced to the side, as if he was considering your words for a moment before nodding down the far end of the hallway where Bruno was standing, waiting for you. “He’s waiting.”

He spun around on his heel and walked away.

“Your friend really did forgive you, Abbachio. If you weren’t meant to come back I wouldn’t have been able to bring you back.” Was all you called back at him.

You walked past Bruno into the room Giorno was waiting, the door shutting behind you to leave you alone with the new Don, a bit on edge until his face emerged from the seat he was sitting in and you couldn’t help but feel relieved.

“So you’re the one I have to thank for my team’s survival.” He attempted to start the conversation.

You reached into your back pocket for your cigarettes and when you turned back to face him, his stand was at the ready.

“My my, no need to be on guard. I wasn’t part of the traitors.”

You brought a filter to your lips and walked towards the balcony, lighting the end without a word. “I’m guessing you’ve been briefed on my wishes?”

“I have- and I can agree to all of them.” He said as Golden Experienced de-materialized.

You hummed in content. Simply waiting for the ‘but’- it never came.

“No exceptions?”

“No, your requests are understandable and manageable. It’s you and your team’s motivations I wanted to know more on.”

You leaned against the balustrade of the balcony, tipping your head back to look up at the orange sky, painted by the setting sun.

“You mean why they were after Trish and Diavolo?”

“Yes.”

You picked your head up and took a drag from the cigarette between your fingers, letting the smoke dribble from your mouth.

“They wanted Trish to gain access to Diavolo. I wouldn’t have let them lay a hand on her. As for that bastard Diavolo, I suppose it was the shitty pay and the fact that they killed my brother and his husb-“ you forgot the marriage certificate was forged. “His lover.” You corrected yourself.

“So why wouldn’t you join in against the coop?”

You took another drag, hoping you could dull your own senses enough to not care about the words that came out of your mouth.

“I didn’t want to die. A stupid sentiment for a hitman but I felt like I can give still do good.”

“Then how did you end up in the gang in the first place?”

“My stupid, very dead brother. Whose killer you so graciously tossed into a garbage truck.”

Giorno actually laughed quietly at that, folding his arms over his chest as he joined you beside the balustrade.

“What did you do before it all?”

“I was a forensic pathologist, though I apprenticed as a mortician for many years.”

He nodded, gazing up at the sky with you.

“I admit, you’d have been a good addition to my own team but I understand your reasons for wanting to leave. There’s just one thing I ask of you- since it seems your stand can trace some things deep within a person’s soul...”

You didn’t completely think it’s fair, your part of the bargain was already done so you suppose you agreed on the terms simple because you were curious yourself... “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know the identity of my real father.”

#la squadra #risotto nero #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #lasquadraweek2020 #jojo part 5 #jojo golden wind #formaggio #bruno bucciarati #panacotta fugo #giorno giovanna

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blackaquokat · 4 years

Text

The Song You Might Have Been (Chapter 2)

Link to Chapter 1

A/N: Fun fact, Legal Eagle used to be slang for “lawyer,” hence the DA’s nickname.

You will also notice, this chapter, that I am taking blatant inspiration for a subplot from Shawshank Redemption. Because it is absolutely something my DA would do. And also, there is a scene here that I once wrote in response to a prompt.

Anyway, thanks for the feedback so far, everyone! I appreciate it so much!

Enjoy!

Apparently Yancy has set up a guard rotation for you at mealtimes in collaboration with his nightly watch.

Today, instead of Jimmy the Pickle, a slim bearded man who introduces himself as Sparkles McGee (you’re curious about the story behind that nickname) joins you at your table. He’s a little more chatty than Jimmy was, constantly going on about the local prison gossip. Who is sleeping with who, which jobs are preferable, upcoming birthdays of inmates and guards. He doesn’t seem to expect any kind of response from you, which works out just fine, because you have nothing to contribute. This might be handy information to have in the future anyway.

When it’s yard time again, however, Sparkles splits off to his group of inmates at the corner. Just as you’re about to go spend another hour lost in thought or maybe doing some exercises, Sparkles comes back and drags you to his posse.

He introduces them one by one: a young woman who looks simultaneously bored and ready to kill, “Tiny”; a younger man with a hisp of a goatee and mustache, “Bam-Bam”; a pale, lanky man with gears tattooed to his temple, “Heap-Ass”; and a larger bald man, “Shithole Hank.” The last one is apparently the man to go to for hooch wine, and every time you’re offered a sip, you make a hard pass. Your excuse is a preference for whiskey or lime and gin. In reality, you just haven’t gotten desperate enough for alcohol to drink it out of a toilet.

Once the introductions are made, you once again just sit back and listen as the crew converses amongst one another. With the amount of gossip you catch during that time, you manage to construct imaginary cases in your head where this evidence is used in support of various litigation lawsuits.

It’s a real eye-opener for you, how little of a life you had outside of work that this is the most you can come up with to occupy yourself outside of reading a book.

Speaking of…

“Is there a library here?” you ask during a short lull in the conversation.

The group blinks at you in sync.

“Um.” Bam-Bam shakes his head. “There’s a book cart with a small selection, and a room about the size of a closet, but that’s about it.”

Your brow furrows. “Is this another case of Warden Murder-Slaughter’s ‘rehabilitation over punishment’ slogan falling flat on its face?”

Tiny snorts. Sparkles shrugs. An idea forms in your mind.

“Um…” Shithole Hank leans towards Sparkles. “Should we be worried about that look in their eye?”

“Only if it gets us in trouble.”

You decide to ignore that exchange. “Would you guys like to have a proper library?”

This draws some intrigue from your companions. Tiny in particular looks interested in this proposal.

“How the hell would you manage that?” Sparkles demands.

You cross your arms and try for a confident smile. “You don’t go through years of law school without learning how to figure out contracts and loopholes. If I can talk with the warden, I’d like to at least see what I can do.”

You cut off when you see the group staring behind you with wide eyes. You turn heel to see one of the guards looking you up and down. Rex, your mind supplies. This is Rex.

“If you want the Warden,” Rex growls, “I can take you to him. But you gotta do something for me first.”

Shit.

----

“What do you mean youse done talked with the Warden?” Yancy demands when you stroll into the cell that evening.

“I wanted to ask him what steps I needed to take to get a bigger library implemented here,” you respond with absolutely no shame whatsoever.

The meeting went surprisingly well. You’ve got a rough idea of how to go about this, now that you know what the problems are. Even better, you actually did find a copy of Murder on the Orient Express on the cart, so a double-win for the day. You crawl on top of the bedsheets and crack the novel open.

Yancy leaps down from the bunk and glares down at you. “And youse didn’t think to inform me of this plan of youse’s?”

You lift your brow without looking away from the book. “I didn’t think you’d be opposed to the idea of making your home a little more homey by having a more updated collection of books.”

“Of course not--”

“Then what’s the problem?”

There’s a huff and a growl before Yancy climbs back into his bunk and falls into it more aggressively than necessary. You think that’s the end of it until his head pops down. “What makes you think youse can just waltz into here and demand youse’s luxuries?!”

Ah. Okay, you see where he’s coming from.

You shut your book and set it down. “Look, I know I’m a prosecution lawyer, but I’m not completely heartless. Yes, I would like a larger collection of books, but don’t the rest of you want more to read too? You look like you’ve been here long enough to read all of those three times. I mean, Rex brought me to the warden in the first place just because he wants a better poetry collection to pick from. He asked for specific authors and poets.”

Yancy does not deny this.

You continue, “Besides, just because you’re in prison doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to expand your horizons, literature-wise that is. I know books helped me growing up, imagine what they’ll mean to everyone in here.”

Yancy continues to stare at you, utterly baffled. “Youse quite the enigma, Eagle.”

“For...what? Caring?”

He shrugs. A weird sight to watch from someone who’s upside down. “Not for caring, per se. But more...the ‘doing’ part.” He disappears into his bunk again. “Here’s hopin’ it won’t be for nothin’.”

“What do you mean?”

“You think youse the first person to ask for more books, Eagle? There’s a reason that collection hasna been updated since the war. Nobody’s seen it through to the end. They gets discouraged.”

You purse your lips, fingers tapping against your book. “I would think you’d have realized from my reputation. I don’t quit.”

There’s a chuckle above you. A genuine one. “That’s what I’m countin’ on, Eagle.”

---

Yancy is right. There’s a reason the collection has barely grown since the prison opened up.

No one on the outside wants to fund the damn thing.

That doesn’t stop you. You start writing letter after letter after letter to the state legislature asking (demanding and borderline threatening, really) for the funds needed to make a bigger library. Thanks to your work in the government, and after a quick phone call to Damien to confirm (while he also updates you on the progress on your case), you know exactly who to contact. It gives you something to do. Something really meaningful. It helps to pass the time and helps to keep from feeling helpless about your own situation.

It also gets you a whole different kind of attention from the inmates.

After Week Two of your letter campaign, Tiny speaks up. You’ve started sitting with Yancy’s posse since they adopted you into their group outside of protection detail. “You really think you can get a library here?”

Seeing as Tiny has barely made a sound in your presence before, this takes you completely by surprise. As well as the rest of the table. You recover quickly. “That’s...what I’m hoping for.”

Tiny’s head ducks, her fingers tapping against one another. “Um...if you do…”

“Yeah?”

“Can we make requests?” she eventually blurts out. “For books we’d like? I mean, do you think we could get children’s books?”

You put down your fork and offer her your full attention. “Did you have a specific one in mind?”

“The Velveteen Rabbit.” Tiny tugs at her braid. “My grandmother used to read it to me.”

You’re overwhelmed with the sudden urge to protect Tiny with your life. Even if you’re pretty sure Tiny has killed at least three people since she was imprisoned and could absolutely kill you if she wanted to. “If that book isn’t included in any delivery we’re given, I will annoy the legislature until they do. Sound good?”

Tiny smiles at you. A small, genuine one. It renews your motivation and you end up writing two letters that evening, in preparation for the next time mail comes along. Next thing you know, other inmates (and even a few guards aside from Rex, much to your surprise) have requests for books they would like available.

Oddly enough, it’s the letter writing and the book requests that finally drive you to ask Yancy how you go about ordering contraband.

“What the hell do youse need contraband for?” He’s sitting cross-legged in the top bunk while you’re trying to draft your next letter on the slab sticking out from the opposite wall.

You hold up the golf pencil you’re using with frustration. “Because these are driving me up the wall. They are terrible. And the quality of the paper here is a nightmare too, it smudges way too easily.”

“So what? Youse want pen and paper?”

Your brow lifts. “That not a lethal enough order?”

Yancy’s smile is borderline feral in its delight. “Youse a lot more interesting than I thought you’d be, Eagle. The guy to go to is Heap-Ass. He’ll get you anything you want. For a price.”

You really don’t like that tone of his. “And? What’s the price?”

“Depends.”

“I don’t do sex favors. Or assassinations.”

“Nah, he’s not that twisted. It’ll either be a chore switch or cigarette packs, somethings in that nature, you know?”

You twirl your terrible pencil between your fingers, feeling a little more hopeful. “That I can definitely handle.”

---

You’ve always known, on an intellectual, common sense level, that prison brutality is absolutely a problem. It’s something you learned in law school from the professors who cared about teaching the kind of scenes law students would actually have to address in their lines of work.

It’s an entirely other experience to watch a rookie guard get too into his job and beat the shit out of a prisoner whose only crime was walking a little too close to the bastard.

Your gut instinct is to run forward and help, somehow. A stupid instinct that would have gotten you killed or at least tossed into the infirmary on a permanent basis had Yancy not grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Hold up there, Eagle.” He pulls you back, a glare fixed on the brutal scene before you. “No need for two of ours to ends up with broken wings, youse hear me?”

You swallow back your righteous anger and force yourself to calm down. It’s not right, it’s not right, and the justice lawyer inside of you is itching to make it right somehow–-

Yancy must see your conflict and anger. He puts a hand on your shoulder and mutters into your ear, “No worries. Me and the others ain’t gonna let this stand. We’ve got our own system in place here.”

That night, you pretend to be asleep when you hear that rookie guard scream for help. You don’t look to see what happens, who does it, or how, and the next day, when the warden summons you to ask if you know anything to explain why the guard’s body was found in the laundry room, you tell him as much.

When you see Yancy later, he seems almost impressed at your lackadaisical reaction to what took place. “Thought you were all about the law, Eagle?”

You lean on the wall next to him and look out across the yard, watching the other inmates mingle together. “In the absence of the law, I’ll take what justice I can get.”

You can almost feel Yancy’s approval. “I can appreciate that.”

Link to Chapter 3 here!

Thank you for reading! Please relbog/comment! If you want to be tagged/untagged for the rest of this series or this pairing, please leave a message in my inbox!

@starcrossedforever87 , @dontworryaboutanything , @beereblogsstuff , @falseroar , @intemperantiae , @memetoyoko , @soul-wolf , @marki-dumb , @withjust-a-bite , @raimeyl , @scribbeetle , @its-dari , @neverisadork , @silver-owl413 , @sassy-in-glasses , @chelseareferenced , @sketchy-scribs-n-doods , @axolittle-boi , @wildfandom , @shrinkthisviolet , @purple-anxiety-blog , @conceitedink , @skidspace

#kat writes #prison attorney #ahwm yancy #ahwm #y/n district attorney #a heist with markiplier #wkm #who killed markiplier

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greatloss · 4 years

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𝚁𝙴𝙶𝙰𝚁𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 : 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙸𝙲 𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙻𝚄𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 . . .

it goes without saying that this post will have spoilers for the comics , so proceed with that in mind . also a disclaimer that the headcanons in this post only extend as far as is canon compliant with the show ; if the show canon directly contradicts any of them , they’ll most likely be revised or revoked unless otherwise specified . my portrayal is show-based & these headcanons will be as described : comic influenced . due to preferring the show to the comics , i’m very self-indulgent in that , concerning the latter , i am keeping what i want & leaving what i don’t . so even though i will be incorporating comic elements , they will be wielded to specifically comply with show canon where possible & act more as a mixture of the two with the show’s contents being favored as a general default .

with all that out of the way : 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽 / 𝚃𝙴𝙼𝙿𝚂 𝙰𝙴𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚂

true to their job description of ‘ the preservation of the time continuum through manipulation & removals ’ , as well as ‘ police the time stream for ANOMALIES ' like five , ‘ beings out of time ’ & put them to work , five is recruited simply because he’s at a point in the timeline he’s not supposed to be . it’s a bit of a mystery as to how other anomalies under their service came to be recruited — were they like him ? wrong place , wrong time , in a more existential sense of the word ? or were they like him in that it was by their own power that they came to be in such a position ? five remains in the dark as to how unique his abilities to organically manipulate time & space are ( organically meaning specifically without the aid of technology such as the briefcases the commission uses ) , but by all observations , his abilities seemed to just be gravy , a little icing on the cake of their duties to realign the timeline anyway . they do their due diligence & get a little bug with inter-dimensional powers to put under a microscope . as a treat .

& that leads to : 𝚂𝚄𝚁𝙶𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙻 ' 𝙸𝙼𝙿𝚁𝙾𝚅𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃 '

as so in the comics ( & simply unspecified in the show , i think ? idk my memory is shoddy at best ) , the commission ‘ saw potential in his time traveling abilities ’ , & as per ( presumed ) procedure for recruited anomalies , five was ... ‘ IMPROVED ’ . what this entails is ‘ halting his aging process , augmenting his deteriorated form , & prepared him for training ’ . the comics are vague as to exactly what the last two mean , so i kind of have self-ascribed definitions . ( there’s also obviously a lot of unresolved trauma involving such a dramatic procedure , but that’s another post for another day )

𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 : at this point in the show , it’s hard to tell if that’s included in five’s more ambiguous time with the commission , but i’m assuming it’s not included . because of this , i’m most likely going to leave this aspect verse dependent or left to specific plots if anyone should be interested in exploring that ( which i'd be very much down for tbh ) . but regarding my MAIN / DEFAULT VERSE , five will not be immortal & will continue aging as normal , aside from de-aging flukes from time traveling ( unless the show canon says otherwise at some point , of course ) . 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 : this is pretty self explanatory ; after forty years in an apocalyptic wasteland , his body was pretty atrophied due to malnutrition , & instead of having him recover slowly & naturally , i guess it was easier just to remedy that while they were picking him apart in the first place . easier to put him straight to work that way . 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 : pretty obvious as well ; cue inter-dimensional assassin training , including special weapons , familiarizing him with their tech & ways of doing things , giving a tour & presumably a place to stay ? it makes sense if the commission has a barracks of some kind . but you know , all that fun & jazz , & eventually leads to him becoming one of their best field operatives . unlike the comics , though , my portrayal is not quite as o.p. ( more similar to the show ) & therefore might not be the best ( honestly , it’s up to where the show takes it , but in season one , he describes himself their best as well only for him to be pretty lackluster in season two when it comes to hand to hand lol ) , but he’s definitely up there . his exceptionalism as a kind of top dog has more to do with his skills as an assassin than a more well rounded field operative . a perfected ‘ instrument of rehabilitation of the time continuum ’ that quickly works his way up the chain of operations .

the commission found five’s space-time abilities complimentary to their line of work , & unfortunately , he was indeed good at what he did ( though , aside from his powers simply being complimentary , turns out letting someone rot for forty years in isolation & threadbare survival & then finally offering them an escape if they do what you want makes for a good sales pitch to get someone to KILL for you ) .

& here’s where the comics influence lessens : 𝙳.𝙽.𝙰. 𝙰𝙻𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

in the comics , after a couple years of service & desensitized slaughter , his apathy towards his own actions was continuously startling enough that five goes snooping through his superior’s ( the equivalent of a.j. ) files on him only to discover his augmentation had included ‘ the binding of his d.n.a. to some of history’s most notorious assassins ’ . as keen as i am with exploring this concept , five’s behavior in the show is firstly just less apathetic all around but especially to his killings for the commission , & secondly gives no indication that this aspect of the comics crossed over to the renewed material . so . . . i think it’d be interesting to include this in my portrayal , but unlike the comics , five never discovers the truth of it by snooping around ( might change my mind on this later , though , idk ) , & the extent to which such alterations to his d.n.a. affects him is more AMBIGUOUS . he’s very much still an empathetic being , despite his dissociation from lots of his life experiences up to & definitely including most his activity within the commission , but were he to discover what their procedures included , it’d plant quite an unsettling doubt within himself & his already convoluted sense of IDENTITY . at this point in my brainstorming , i’m unsure when or how he comes to this knowledge , if he ever even does outside of threads that’d involve it specifically . i’m currently undecided concerning a lot of this last bit , but know for sure that my show-based portrayal includes a much less apathetic five than the comics ( at least in the specific way it’s implied there ; more of a psychopath-esque context in which he literally just doesn’t feel much of anything ) , & can therefore say with confidence that if the d.n.a. altering affected him at all , it’s not in the same way or extent . five does experience a sense of apathy & disconnect from violence , but in a very much different sense than the comics .

& that’s all i have at the moment ! for future reference , if i change any details or add to them , i’ll probably make an update post linking this one , or edit this & reblog it or something . regardless , sorry this post got so long ( it took me way too long to type it up lol ) & kudos to anyone who read all of it lol mwah

#𝐢𝐢𝐢⠀:⠀𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗 . . .⠀⠀learn from where i’ve been .#comics spoilers //#ask to tag #yeets this over here #re-reading this had my brain zeroing in on the immortal possibility............#immortal verse when #anyways i added a few edits here n there but not a lot has changed #i still need to give more thought to the last bit but h #who has time for thoughts <3 #i'll probably be re-posting lots of the specific to my portrayal headcanons while just rb-ing like metas & stuff #unless i'm incredibly proud of them or smth djfsdj then i'll probably re-post them too #idk idk how overhauls work but wtv #here are my takes on comic influence for those who hadn't read them before

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dukereviewstv · 3 years

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Duke Reviews TV: Batman: The Animated Series 1x12 It's Never Too Late

Hello, I'm Andrew Leduc And Welcome To Duke Reviews TV Where We Continue Our Look At Batman: The Animated Series By Talking About Episode 12 Of Season 1, It's Never Too Late...

When The Gang War Between Rival Mob Bosses Arnold Stromwell And Rupert Thorne Reaches It's Climax, Batman Senses An Opportunity To End It Peacefully By Convincing Stromwell To Retire...

Will Stromwell Retire And End This War?

Let's Find Out As We Watch It's Never Too Late...

The Episode Starts In The Estate Of Aging Crime Boss, Arnold Stromwell As He Watches The News As A Story On The Worsening Conflict Between Himself And Rupert Thorne Airs, But That's Not Why He's Watching...

He's Watching For Hope That There's Word About His Missing Son, Joey Who's Been Gone For Days And Though Him And His Son Were Estranged Stromwell Is Convinced That Thorne Is Behind Joey's Kidnapping...

So, He Orders His Men To Set Up A Meeting With Thorne. However, Batman Hears Thorne Say That He Plans To Assassinate Stromwell After He Receives His Message...

But Wait A Minute...

Wasn't Thorne Arrested In The Last Episode? I Thought Two Face Had Enough On Thorne To Ruin Him...

I Know People Are Going To Say "Thorne Most Likely Had His High Powered Attorneys Drop Two Face's Evidence Because He's A Criminal And Criminals Can't Be Trusted" And To Those People I Say...

It Was Still Legal Evidence Which Had Everything Illegal Thorne Ever Did And It Should Have Been Enough To Put Him Away For Life, So In Other Words His Appearance In This Episode Is Completely Pointless..

And Even If He Could Be Able To Weasel His Way Out Of This They Should Have Waited To Have Him Again As They Just Had Him On And Having Him On Again After Knowing That He Should Be In Jail...

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But Back To The Story...

On His Way To The Meeting, Stromwell Passes An Old Train Yard Where He Has A Flashback Of Himself And His Brother, Michael When They Were Kids...

Walking Home On The Railroad Tracks, A Train Soon Comes That Forces Michael To Dive Out Of The Way, Arnold's Foot Gets Stuck On The Tracks Eventually Getting Free, He Jumps Onto Another Track Where Another Train Is Coming..,

Freezing With Fear We....

Cut Back To Stromwell, Who Shakes Off The Flashback Before Entering A Deli Owned By Thorne For The Meeting...

Great Choice, They Have A Dirtbag Sandwich With A Side Of A Sleezeball Salad That's To Die For...

Meanwhile At A Church, Batman Visits An Elderly Priest To Ask For His Help With Stromwell, But With A Sigh, He Says That Stromwell Is Someone He Wishes He Could Let Go Of, But Batman Still Encourages The Priest To Help...

Back At The Deli, Thorne Acts Affable, But Stromwell Still Seizes Thorne And Questions Him About The Whereabouts Of His Son, However, Thorne Swears That He Had Nothing To Do With Joey's Disappearance...

However, When Stromwell Calms Down After Thorne Says That, Thorne And The Deli Owner Run Out Back As A Bomb Explodes Inside The Deli But Luckily Stromwell Is Saved By Batman, Who Tells Him To Give Up His Criminal Ways And Turn State's Evidence...

But Acting Defiant, Batman Decides To Take Stromwell On A Little Tour...

As Police Investigate The Bombing, A Hobo Tells Gordon That He Saw Batman Save Stromwell, With One Of Thorne's Thugs Overhearing That, He Informs Thorne Who Worries That Stromwell Will Testify Against Him And His Associates, So, Thorne Orders A Manhunt For Both Stromwell And Batman...

The First Place Batman Takes Stromwell Is His Old Neighborhood Where He Started His Career As A Drug Peddler...

After That, They Go To The Sunrise Foundation, A Drug Rehabilitation Center Where Stromwell Is Shocked To Discover His Estranged Wife, Connie (Played By The Late Katherine Helmond) Who Is With His Son Joey, Who Is Suffering From Severe Drug Withdrawal Pains...

Stromwell Rages On This But Is Brought Up Short When Connie Reveals It Was One Of Stromwell's Own Drug Dealers That Got Joey Addicted And It Was Batman Who Rescued Him And Alerted Her...

Why Not Point A Finger At The Guy And Just Go...

Realising He's Been Cut To The Quick, Stromwell Agrees To Hand Over Files Incriminating Not Only Himself But Thorne To Batman But When Stromwell Gives Batman The Files At An Empty Office, They're Revealed To Be Dummies And That...

Grabbing A Gun While Batman Was Looking At The Fake Files, He Says That He Won't Go Down So Easy And That Once He's Done With Thorne, He'll Rescue Joey From The Rehab Center, But Stromwell Finds That Him And Batman Have Company As Thorne And His Gang Attack Them..

But While Batman Subdues Thorne's Gang, Stromwell Runs With Thorne Right Behind Him. Eventually Finding Himself At The Old Rail Yard,b Stromwell Remembers The Rest Of The Flashback...

Where The Other Train Is Just About To Hit Arnold, His Brother, Michael Pushes Arnold Out Of The Way As The Train Roars Over Him As Arnold Screams His Name Over And Over Again Just As Arnold Is Doing Now...

But When A Voice Tells Him That He's There, The Old Priest Enters And Is Revealed To Be Michael, Who Survived The Incident But Sadly Lost A Leg Doing So...

Out Of Guilt For What Happened, Arnold Refuses Michael's Offer Of Help Only To Be Reminded Of The Current State Of His Dismal Life...

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(Start At 2:02, End At 2:53)

But Thorne Isn't So Sentimental As He Intends On Killing Both Arnold And Michael But Batman Interpheres, Subduing Thorne. With Police Arriving At The Scene, Stromwell Prepares To Give Them A Statement As Batman Walks Away Into The Night, Ending Our Episode...

And That's It's Never Too Late And It's An Okay Episode...

The Story Is Well Written And It Does Have A Christmas Carol Sort Of Vibe But It's Not Among My Favorites, Call It A Preference To Episodes With Supervillains But It's Interesting I Will Say That So, I Say See It..,

Till Next Time, This Is Duke, Signing Off...

#batman the animated series #BTAS #Kevin Conroy #Robert Costanzo #Bob Hastings #Townsend Coleman #paul dooley #katherine helmond #john vernon #dc animated universe #DCAU

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coaxionunlimited · 5 years

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RvB Fic Recs - AO3 Edition

This is going to be a highly eclectic and very personal list of fics that I liked during my recent RvB fic binge. Most of them are going to be a little obscure, but there’s no hard and fast theme.

AI: The logistics of sharing your head with an untested computer program that feels things have always fascinated me. These are fics about getting comfy-cozy with the stranger in your head. Spartan-B240 by eggstasy: Tuckington Halo 5 AU where Tucker is the voice in Wash’s head. I really love the build of Tucker and Wash’s relationship here, how they’re both trying hard to help each other, how Tucker makes Wash feel like a real person, how Wash is really and obviously gone on him. And also this approach to the logistical difficulties of falling in love with an AI program. The sequel is incomplete, but worth a read, especially for the Church+Caboose friendship in the first and last chapters.

Proper expression of emotion in bra-ket notation by thought: York and Delta are picking a lock, and hey, did anyone do research on how to stay within the safe limits of your AI’s capabilities? No? Oh well.

2-1 by QueSeraAwesome: In which Delta definitely does not have feelings OR insecurities about his relationships with York, and someone should probably be keeping an eye on Sigma.

Prepared by Blueberryshortcake: Delta invades York’s dreams. Short - but worth it for protective (and subtextually anxious) Delta.

South & Theta by madelinescribbles: Did someone say South redemption arc? Well, even if that someone wasn’t you, you have to admit you’re curious about what would happen if South and Theta talked to each other. Or dealt with their grief over North’s death together. Same difference. Incomplete, but that’s never stopped me.

Tuckington Borderlands AUs where Tucker is a Siren (don’t worry you don’t really have to know anything about Borderlands to enjoy these): … okay look, I realize that this is a very specific category name but in my defense [AIRPLANE TAKES OFF, OBSCURING THE REST OF THE SENTENCE]. Nothing Good by BoxOnTheNile: In which Tucker also has issues! There’s not enough fics about Tucker being just as banged up as Wash on the inside, and you know you’ve been looking for it. I really love Tucker’s other friendships in this fic, the sense that he’s really built a life for himself, and the slow give and take of trust between him and Wash really butters my biscuits. There’s another oneshot in this series, and the last chapter of BoxOnTheNile’s RVB Trans Week compilation (Be Someone (That Makes You Happy)) is also in this 'verse.

No Hero to Call Home by bismuthBallistics: In which Tucker is a mechanic and his favorite person in the world is the guy who comes in every three months to get a tune up on his prosthetic leg. Too bad Wash didn’t get that memo. Read this for some Really Excellent Tucker pining, and also for Tucker really caring about Wash and trying to take care of him, and also for Wash cooking for Tucker, and also the way they resolve Tucker getting frustrated with Wash’s general inability to friend really rings true, and also - look, I could keep going for a while here. Read this fic.

Locus Angst and Rehabilitation: Think Wash angst, except clearly superior because there’s more Red Team. I’ll Tell You My Sins and You Can Sharpen Your Knife by illumynare: Incomplete, but all three of four chapters are full of that Good Shit. Did you want Locus being unable to cope with basic kindness? Did you want pining for friendship? Did you want to be really, cripplingly sad about Locus? This is the fic for you.

Vanished Marvels by BoxOnTheNile: Oneshot, Simmons and Grif take care of an assassin. Some comfort for all the hurt you got from reading that last fic :D. Comes as part of a series, with an incomplete Locus/Grif/Simmons sequel and a Tuckington prequel, in case you needed some more ex-supersoldier h/c.

Green is Definitely a Shade of Red by Prim_The_Amazing: Does anyone else think it’s really unfair that Blue team gets all the ex-supersoldiers? If you do, this is your fic. In which Locus is totally, absolutely, and definitely not enjoying getting adopted by the Reds. Honestly. Contains 200% more shenanigans than your average Locus fic.

Series Recs: Because not every fic is standalone. Blood Gulch Freelancers by eggstasty: What if the Blood Gulch Crew were a part of Project Freelancer? Read it for good mom Carolina, Caboose’s tragic backstory, and Allison being alive, which makes everything much less fucked up. … As long as you don’t look too hard, that is.

Five Reds and a Baby by a_taller_tale: Sarge ordered a baby from a catalogue, and it turns out to be a clone of Grif, and - look, it makes sense in context. 100% pure Grimmons, Red Team, and baby fluff.

flying and burning by tumbleoutyourhair: Mostly tuckington oneshots, with a couple of grimmons ones. Contains a lot of That Good Wash Angst, especially thirteen and fourteen.

Zombie Immunity AU by HappyFunBallXD: Grif has an immunity to zombies and a plan - too bad life is getting in between him and Alaska. The main fic in the series is unfinished, but there’s plenty of Blood Gulch Crew zombie shenanigans and grimmons to go around.

Coffee Shop AU by mumblybee: Look, I got into the fandom in 2014, I have a horrible, horrible weakness for sad yorkalina. This is a modern au, featuring coffee and being a sad millennial.

Did someone say dorkalina? An OTP? In this economy? It’s more likely than you’d think. Satellite Mind by eponymous_rose: The Director didn’t consider the impact of AI on his Agent’s sex lives. At least, we hope he didn’t. York and Delta negotiate boundaries, Carolina helps. NSFW.

We Were Up All Night Talking Trash And Wasting Time by thought: Project Freelancer is falling apart, Carolina and York have sex about it. Delta helps. Sad and poetic, my favorite kind of fanfiction.

Opacity by bismuthBallistics, red_as_ever: Urban fantasy, plotty. York goes blind, Carolina helps. Delta is alternately a solution and an obstacle, and no one escapes a clash between the fae courts unscathed.

Carolina Genfics: Because Agent Carolina, man. Wash and Locus aren’t the only supersoldier assholes who need a redemption arc. Banana Bread Bonding by Aryashi: Agent Carolina tries to get Grif to teach her how to relax. Hilarity ensues. If that doesn’t make you want to read it, consider that it’s tagged “Co-Authored By Carolina's Ability to stalk people until she gets what she wants”.

Kiss My Bright Red Ass, Sir by Hinn_Raven: In which Carolina was Sarge’s daughter the entire time. Much more serious than it sounds and a fair bit sad - but if you’ve ever thought to yourself “man, I wish Carolina had a better family situation” this is the fic for you.

A Field Guide to Haircare in Wartime by saltsanford: In which the Reds get Carolina some self-care and forgiveness. If you liked Vanished Marvels from the Locus section, you’ll like this.

Regret the Poor Children (Raindrop Remix) by PlayerProphet: In which Carolina gets a jumpstart on her redemption arc, and Wash gets help a little earlier. If you wanted Freelancer to end a little better, read this fic. It’s not a happy fic, but you get the sense that things are going uphill from here.

This Man Looked Exactly Like Natalie Portman When He Was 13 by eggstasy: THE Carolina & Caboose fic. This one’s got it all, folks! Carolina trying to change for the better, Carolina & Epsilon bromance, backwardses and forwardses and all the complications that come with finding yourself in the middle of a redeption arc, and finally, a happy ending.

Time Travel and De-Aging: I’ll admit, I haven’t read extensively in this genre in RvB, but here are some of my favorites. put your curse in reverse by Sroloc_Elbisivni: PFL-era Carolina gets de-aged. Hilarity(?) ensues. Read for Freelancer team as family, really awkward dramatic irony (toddler Carolina calls Tex momma, for a start), and all your Maine and Wash being good with children needs.

Asphodel Meadows by Hinn_Raven: Tex lives! She also travels forward in time to the Chorus era, and fixes things, because she’s a badass like that. Read this for massive Tex bromance feels, and because you wanted Tex to live.

Hit and Run by creatrixanimi, RiaTheDreamer: Not technically time travel or de-aging, but teenaged Grif siblings in Project Freelancer really feels like it fits here. Contains parental unit 479er, Freelancer babysitting shenanigans, and North stealing children. Because you know he would. Incomplete.

(Change the Past, Choose the Future by Zoomda and The Red and Blue Home for Lost Fat Kids by ShadyJane both fit in this category, the former being Wash and Carolina time-travel fix it and the latter being de-aged Captain Grif, but since I haven’t finished either (and neither are finished), I can’t exactly write up a rec. Still, here they are, for the adventurous or desperate among you.)

Misc: Fics that don’t fit into the other categories. Outpost #1 Apartments by nan00k: Not your momma’s superhero au! Church escapes his dad/the Director’s highly unethical superhero program, and moves into Blood Gulch apartment complex. Mostly gen, focuses on Church recovering from all the crap he endured. Read this one for the plot, for the gentle build of some serious tension, and for some good Church friendships. Part of an incomplete series, the Carolina entry is next and is both complete and definitely worth a look.

Simmons Slipped Up So Hard He Needs Life-Alert by Lieutenant_Kader: Grimmons fluff! Grif sets up a movie date for Simmons, and it’s real cute. Contains twice your recommended daily dose of Star Wars and Tucker being a good bro.

Don’t Cross the (Time) Streams by Hinn_Raven: The Freelancers crash land in Blood Gulch. Chaos and confusion ensues. Watching the professional supersoldiers be out of their depth around the worst soldiers in the galaxy is completely hilarious.

#rvb #fic recs #tuckington #grimmons #agent carolina #this got long when I wasn't looking #dorkalina

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