#about civilians they are literally the state power civilians need protection from

[lesbianyosano]

deeply hypocritical of asagiri to try to pivot the story into the fake deep commentary on the state while completely ignoring the question of carceral system even with mersault at the heart of the story for years

[darkonekrisrewrite]

The villains dying is the worst ending

If shigaraki, toga or Dabi die, that would be the worst outcome for everyone who matters in bnha.

And if the heroes win this final war and achieve everything they want, that will only then lead to the "bad ending" where nobody actually gets what they want.

Anything the hero kids are trying to protect and achieve isn't going to exist without the villains.

Specifically their villains.

So far, out of everyone, ochako is at the top when it comes to success in dealing with her villain.

Stopping Toga's threat and getting toga to see that her efforts were genuine in trying to help someone all of society had rejected.

Wanting to understand why toga was a villain and wanting to talk further with her after everything.

But then toga had to save ochako, and if toga does die (though unlikely considering what she and other characters have survived already) then ochako's arc, and any future that had any impact, is over.

Because ochako isn't going to make anything better for people like Toga, for those who have quirks that aren't easy to live with.

(The only logical next/endgame step for ochako's character-

-with the current state of their society's infrastructure, there's no way ochako's parents/construction jobs will be hurting for business and therefore money-

-and aside from deku (in his reckless nature and self-sacrificing personality), the heroes really aren't the ones who ever needed saving.)

Ochako doesn't know enough about what Toga went through yet, and there's no one else who could reliably tell her everything from the perspective of someone born with a quirk that's rejected by their society, what exactly led to toga becoming a villain and what it was like.

Toga's perspective and presence is the only way that ochako's own presence would be more effective.

Because she was barely able to convince the civilians to let deku into the heroes' own shelter, literally begging them to have some compassion for the young hero who's fought for them all this time.

And it only worked with the support of others deku had directly saved. (Kota and the heteromorph woman)

She can advocate for how things should be, use another megaphone and talk about what changes need to be made, but if that's it, just talking and asking, then nothing will happen.

It's the same problem with deku for the same reasons.

The civilians/government don't want to do what would be necessary to make sure more villains like the Lov aren't made and Deku doesn't have any real power to make them.

Or rather he doesn't have the willingness to force what needs to be done.

All-might made change to their society, making it more peaceful (and more apathetic), but that was only because it benefited those in power.

The government wanting to maintain control and order, and the civilians who were absolved of any responsibility to help others in need and abandon anyone who has "villainous" traits.

All-might intentionally gave people exactly what they wanted and unintentionally gave them permission to take the easy way out.

So just because deku or ochako are powerful heroes, that does not mean that they can influence the system/people or government.

If the hero kids commit to saving the villains and changing things, given everything we've seen of the civilians and government so far, there's no reason to think that they'll will go along with any of it.

Because it is the harder path and risks them losing their control and oblivious peace/permission to be their apathetic selves.

Same for shoto too.

Dabi's main beef with heroes is centered around endeavor but that doesn't mean he's wrong about everything else.

The heroes aren't held to a standard or accountable for anything.

They'll say they have to set an example and publicly apologize when things go bad (only if they're found out), but there are never any real consequences to be pointed to from within the system itself, much less any safeguards.

There's nothing stopping another future Endeavor from trying to make another "masterpiece" and thus creating another Dabi.

Shoto is currently still more focused on improving himself and being a hero/helping his family.

Which isn't a bad thing at all.

There's just no "bigger picture" or "this needs to be fixed" view from him yet, despite this aspect of hero society being a big part of his origin.

The civilians and the higher ups in hero society (as well as most all of the pro heroes) don't want anything to change, they all only want their "normal" back, the same state of things that created the core villains in the first place.

So the goals of: helping those with difficult quirks before they become villains, making sure the government helps with that and doesn't start assassinating people again, no more hero rankings/no more emphasis on being better then your peers-

-and overall change for the better can't be done by the hero kids alone.

But their villains, being alive and there in their lives, fixes all of that.

Toga, shigaraki and dabi would inform and push ochako, deku and shoto in the direction they need to go in to make a difference, and give them the force they wouldn't have on their own to ensure it happens.

If ochako (through toga) knows what needs to be done and asks the civilians again to show basic human decency to those who they previously rejected/abandoned and the civilians inevitably (because it's the more difficult path) say: "Yeah...no."

Toga (backed the Lov) would then respond: "Bet?"

If deku really commits to shredding the Rug of hero society and the government has a problem with that, and says no to what Deku tells them needs to happen, as a hero he can't really force them to do anything.

Unless shigaraki comes in behind him saying: "Work with him or deal with me again..."

(Lady nagant could, in theory, fill this roll, but she's not as powerful or untouchable as shigaraki, so the threat is lessened.

Not to mention it wouldn't be as narratively strong.)

If necessary, life or death-future in the balance, change doesn't happen willingly, then it needs to be forced.

As for shoto, he did say that there were still arguments that he wanted to have with his brother, so maybe that will set him on the way to pushing to make sure another endeavor can't get away with any quirk marriages and stop another touya from becoming Dabi.

And if this doesn't happen and heroes/hero kids get their ideal ending, the kind seen in endeavor's vision where everyone is all cool and successful pro heroes with the villains out of the picture?

Then nothing in bnha will have mattered and they're all still going to lose everything anyway.

Not right away but sooner rather than later, hero society's flaws (which again won't be fixed by the hero kids alone) will create another group of villains just like the Lov, putting everything back to square one.

Then after that: Quirk singularity doomsday.

The last plot thread that the heroes definitely can't beat, they won't even acknowledge it as a threat or as truth.

Even through some heroes have seen evidence of it's truth, like at the Provisional Hero License Course where they clearly saw that children were being born with more powerful quirks than before.

The villains know the quirk singularity is real and only the villain side, however evil or immoral they are, accepts this threat and has the knowledge to counter it.

(Through their own power and the doctor.)

Compared to the hero side who has none and no one who would work with them to even attempt to deal with the quirk singularity.

And no, Eri is not a solution to the quirk singularity, they would literally have to sacrifice her body like overhaul did to mass produce anything, and even then it wouldn't be enough for the entire world.

Same with the "AFO and OFA destroys all quirks theory", since the quirks only work through direct physical contact, how would that even be feasible for all of humanity??

Final flaw in this:

It's true that this presently isn't what the Lov want (definitely shigaraki and Dabi don't) but it's been shown, through toga and ochako at least, that the possibility for change is there, it's just that both parties have to make concessions and put in the effort-

-and obviously all involved need to survive.

Because the only way that there's going to be any kind of good ending in bnha is with the core villains being alive and with the heroes.

[legitimatesatanspawn]

As poorly as he said it, All Might wasn't entirely wrong to say "you should become a doctor or policeman". Just not for the reasons he meant.

Hero Academia shows heroes functioning as cops in cosplay, employed or sponsored by the state to maintain some semblance of control over superpowers. But due to how it works, petty criminals are lumped in the same title of "villain" as terrorists the moment their quirk is involved. This furthers discrimination against "undesirable" powers (no I'm not talking about Hitoshi's quirk) and people with "scary" physical alterations. And to make it worse, later in the series the heroes conscript child soldiers to fight terrorists and insurrectionists and straight up human rights riots. (SPECIFICALLY ones from UA, like I know they're the main characters of a shounen series but where the hell are all the other hero schools' students? WHERE ARE ALL THE OTHER HEROES?!)

This is to say nothing of how the title and flashy costumes hide what the job really is. Literally the whole entry exam is "how quickly and how many robots can you punch, and do you see other potential rivals as people in need of help". The license test itself is "how many quirked people can you punch, and how do you handle civilians in need of help during a villain attack". Heroes help people... but heroes are graded on their ability and willingness to fight. Which is expected of a shounen series but in a 'real world' setting it casts a different light on things. There's heroes down to fight (whether it's bloodlust or "to protect others"), but there's also heroes just there for the fame. We know that it's not recent either because Torino became a hero just to get away with using his quirk.

No one should be a hero if it's about helping people. But what else is there?

Do emergency services still exist in MHA or have they been over time replaced by Rescue Heroes? Do child services still exist or are they in bed with HPSC for quirk oversight? How does quirk counseling even work and how much does the perception of a quirk play into how it is handled? How many existing structures have been tossed aside for some other agency or group to handle just because of how varied and initially terrifying quirks have been? We know hospitals still exist but can doctors use medically useful quirks or does it take a provisional non-hero license issued by the HPSC? Do any heroes investigate white-collar crime or is it only when it comes to threats like the MLA?

I love certain characters and the setting is fun to play around with but good lord I have so many questions.

[missmaniac25]

Heroes and Villains - Hyunjin and Seungmin

Warnings - none (i think. Maybe being tossed off of a bridge) W.c: 700+

~

Awkard shuffling. Small sips. Pretending to cough and clear their throats.

Despite their many previous encounters, this had to be the weirdest.

Seungmin taps his finger against the side of his glass, hoping about all hopes that he will be able to leave this event soon. He’d really only come because his parents had asked him to and he owed it to them, after his last close call with the heroes.

He peers over at Hyunjin, his polar opposite out in the normal world, but on equal footing tonight. It was strange. Not even a week before the two had been at each other’s throats, literally, and here they were, pretending to be friends again.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Hyunjin’s words take Seungmin out of his own head.

“I didn’t want to but…” He takes another sip. “Parents.”

“Hmm. Same.”

The noise of the people around them continues to buzz but the two men return to silence. Seungmin tries to think of something to say but the hero beats him to it.

“Apparently our dads are planning a fishing trip for the long weekend,” he says, glancing over. “I’ve already been invited to go with.”

“Maybe I’ll give it a skip then.”

The villain is about to start making up a new plan in his head but…

“Don’t even think about trying anything when I’m away.” Hyunjin faces him properly. “I’ve told my mom to keep an eye on you.”

“You’re such a buzzkill.”

The hero scoffs but there’s a smile playing on his lips.

“Do I need to remind you that you tried to throw me off of a bridge not five days ago?”

Seungmin can’t help but laugh a little.

“I did throw you off. You just managed to grab onto the edge and pull yourself up again.”

There’s a feeling of nostalgia blooming in the villain’s chest. Once upon a time he and Hyunjin used to actually be friends; they used to spend afternoons playing together in the garden while their folks talked, only calling them in once the sun was beginning to set. Seungmin knows that it’s his fault that they aren’t that close anymore. Hyunjin was always going to be a hero and follow in his mother’s footsteps. It was Seungmin who decided to pursue villainy; to not be a civilian like his parents.

“Do you remember when we put wet paint all over Mr Kim’s front porch?” Seungmin asks, the memory suddenly coming back to him.

“You mean the time when you put wet paint all over the porch while I tried everything in my power to stop you?” Hyunjin presses. “Yeah, I remember something like that.”

“How was I supposed to know that Mr Kim had his whole family visiting him that day?”

The two men lock eyes and they can’t help the laughter that bubbles out.

“I should’ve known then that you were going to be a villain,” Hyunjin says, still smiling. “You were always up to mischief.”

Their laughter fades into nothing as they stand there, lost in memory.

“I guess when I next see you, we’ll be back to normal?” Seungmin asks hopefully. He knows what the answer will be but he wants to believe that there’s a part of Hyunjin’s heart that yearns to go back to simpler times, just as his does.

It’s as if a shadow comes over the hero. His expression turning serious.

“Yes. I still have a duty to protect this city and its civilians. Our past never interfered with that before and it won’t now.”

Seungmin nods as he gazes down at the floor.

“Hey.” Hyunjin taps his friend on the arm. “You could always come on the fishing trip with us. My dad would love to catch up with you.”

A tiny spark ignites in Seungmin’s chest.

“Yeah, maybe I will.”

A ping from Hyunjin’s pocket catches their attention and he’s quick to pull his phone out of his pocket. Seungmin can’t see what’s on the screen.

“I have to go,” Hyunjin states, putting his glass down on a nearby table. “Something’s come up.”

“Hero stuff?” Seungmin asks.

“Yeah, hero stuff.”

There’s a moment where Hyunjin doesn’t move and Seungmin wonders if he isn’t going to go. He’s shocked when the hero pulls him in for a hug.

“Stay safe, Seungmin,” Hyunjin says before pulling away and disappearing into the crowd.

Seungmin was left standing there stunned.

[the-lady-writes-what]

It is not worth it to argue with Zionists. This is a lesson that I'm trying to learn. It is not worth your time engaging with them at all. A Zionist will likely always believe that Israel has the right to "defense." They will likely always dehumanize Palestinians by conflating them with Hamas. They will likely always offer an ultimatum to you that if you are truly against anti-Semiticism, then you obviously must condemn Hamas, and by that, they mean you must ignore Israel bombing and shooting Palestinian civilians. They will likely always conflate Israel with the interest of the international Jewish community. Jewish organizations actively protesting Israel's actions will be ignored. Jews speaking out against Israel will be ignored or vilified. They will say that Aaron Bushnell was a mentally disturbed anti-Semite whose sacrifice and protest means nothing. They will continue to say all these things and flip criticism towards Israel into anti-Semiticism. They will verbally beat you over the head with accusations of bigotry towards Jews if you so much as suggest that Israel is an apartheid state who has been stealing land and killing Palestinians since 1948.

Do not engage

Do not enter debates with these people

They do not care about your opinions. I really don't think they do. They will not stop defending Israel and will continue to conflate Palestinians with Hamas. They will not stop using Oct. 7 to torment, kill, and displace the millions of Palestinians that are struggling to survive. Zionists and people who support this genocide and every other atrocity happening right now are not worth your time.

I get it. I'm guilty of it too. You get mad and hot under the skin. You can't physically deck them irl, so you take it to the comment section. You go back and forth until one of you gives up and blocks the other. You hate their attitude towards Palestinians, maybe you even hate them as people. Very valid feelings. It sucks. Putting that energy into hating these people who excuse and even support this genocide can be cathartic because maybe you don't have the money to support the Palestinians who are still alive or enough power to influence your government to stop supporting these acts of violence. But trust me, no matter what you say, it will likely not change them, and that sucks too. It isn't worth it. Put the energy you have now into doing what you can: boycott, phone calls, letters to your government, participating in protests, donating what you can.

And for the love of what little good is left in the world, do not send them suicide bait. Maybe this is just my controversial opinion, but don't tell a Zionist to kill themselves. It's not about protecting a Zionist's feelings. Calling them ugly or stupid and telling them to kill themselves just bolsters their beliefs. It does nobody good to send suicide bait even to a Zionist.

The best solution and the only solution is to block them. Socially ostracize them from your internet space. Do not interact with them. Don't send "kys Zionist" or call them ugly or that they have a small penis. Don't bother. Not because their feelings matter, but because your energy and effort is literally needed elsewhere. Give them something worse than engagement and debate. Give them silence. Block them.

[conceptum-existentiae-nihil]

Hey to my single follower if you think people aren’t standing for Palestinian lives then you have not seen the state of tumblr. The only part of tumblr that even cares about Israeli lives that I’ve seen is jumblr. Some points I’d like to raise are:

A. This is literally a war that was started by Hamas and in war people die

B. Israel when bombing military targets spreads pamphlets warning civilians to get out 24 hrs beforehand.

C. People don’t except proof when Hamas kidnaps, kills, and injures many Israeli civilians but when a Gaza missile misfires and hits a parking lot everyone immediately accepts it.

D. There is no genocide as there are many ethnic Palestinians who live work and are full citizens of Israel.

E. Zionism is decolonization as it is people who are native to the region (Jews) returning to our homeland (archaeology and genetics has proven that we originated there) after being forcibly removed by a foreign power.

F. The Jewish people need a state to protect us because all throughout large portion of history in which we were in exile we have been persecuted relentlessly and repeatedly by almost all powers that come over us and having a powerful state to protect us could help stop this.

G. I recognize that Palestinians are also native to the region. This is because they primarily consist of Jews who were converted from Judaism to Christianity, Islam, and other religions centuries ago. I think that if the people in charge of the Palestinian states (because Gaza and the West Bank are separate) would stop bombing Israel we would probably see a decrease in settlements (which I disagree with)

@citrusbusiness if you have any points to debate then please state them in the comments as I don’t wish to have a public debate. (And yes I wish to politely debate this not to battle with anger)

[gadawg-404]

When will you gun nuts realize that Universal Background checks and Red Flag Laws will go a long way to stop School Shootings. We don't have to ban AR-15s to do this.

“Gun nuts”.

You have the freedom to do anything you do in the USA because somebody else took up a gun and risked their life, honor, fortune and more. The right to own a gun is not just for protection and hunting…. It is literally a natural right to keep government in check. What other rights do think need a background check to exercise? Just who gets to determine why another person must give up their God given rights because of something in the past?

We have background checks. Hunter Biden lied on his, clearly broke the law, yet folks like you aren’t calling for his arrest.

Red Flag laws? They are unconstitutional. Here is the thing. Around 99 percent of all legally owned guns will never be used in a crime. Yet you want to go after responsible people in the quest of your Utopia. Utopia is a myth. Freedom is dangerous.. less freedom is even more dangerous. Care about children? Advocate for the training and arming of teachers. Mass shooters love “no gun” zones and avoid places where the victims are armed. Also eliminate the publishing of the shooter’s name and image. They lust for infamy.

Put this another way? Do you trust the government? Any government or party? It’s sad if you do. Power corrupts and government is powerful. So it’s not about guns, background checks and idiotic red flag laws. It’s about keeping the government… and regular bad guys in check. Over 2.5 million civilians use a weapon to prevent death, injury and theft every year. The actual number is likely significantly higher.

Want to protect kids? Arm and train the adults around them.

I note that 11 teens a day die due to texting and driving. Hundreds of thousands injured annually. No headlines, no national horror. No national movements to ban teens from driving, an activity that kills over 4,000 teens annually.

You want to end school shootings?

Arm and train the teachers who want to do so. Keep the knowledge of who is armed private. Have classroom doors hardened so each classroom is its own safe room. Have video cameras in every room and hallway in the school. Make sure that the police can easily access to the video feed in an emergency.

When the police arrive they will instantly know where the shooter is. No need to waste valuable time and manpower to clear every room while searching for the shooter. Seconds count in active shooter events.

The fact is every shooter is mentally unhinged. Interestingly enough the overwhelming majority of mass shooters are progressives.

Some want to go after the AR style of rifles. AR stands  armaLite, not assault rifle. All rifles account for only 2.6% of murder annually in the USA. In 2019 rifles were used in 364 homicides. 1,476 deaths were caused by knives and cutting instruments. 1,591 deaths were caused by hammers and blunt objects. Rifles cause less death than hammers and knives by a large factor.

They bottom line is there are many solutions to better protect the lives of students and educators that don’t impinge on the natural rights of all citizens. They are cost effective and can be implemented on the local level. Those that want to leave students at risk can choose to do so. This is Federalism. Each state deciding what is best for itself.

Yes there are gun nuts in the USA. They are hoplophobes.

[1hornyforfictionalmen1]

Just a little character description of a Batfam OC I’ve been working on, nothing to see here.

Just so y’all know this is a draft character desc.

It’s not perfect 😭🤚

Name: River Morris (Wayne)

Age: 22

Power: Phoenix/hand to hand

Occupation: vigilante/adopted daughter of Bruce Wayne

Favorite song(s): the entire newsies soundtrack, the entire bring it on soundtrack, who is she by: I monster, I think I like when it rains by: WILLIS, She’s so nice by: Pink guy, Apocalypse by: cigarettes after sex, Rats by: Penelope Scott

Appearance(physical): short dark brown hair (kinda mullet style but diff yk?) dark forest green eyes. MUSCLE FUCKING MOMMY BRO 😍😍🥵🥵🥵 basically super buff hot woman, has a septum 🥵. She has got a burn scar covering quite a bit of her right eye because of the extensive “phoenix” training she endured, along with a good sized burn scar spanning across her upper back slightly in the shape of wings from her past. When she becomes Phoenix she does actually grow wings but they are literally made of fire, they are no longer flesh/bone because of a certain someone (👀) she also gets horns to match her fae heritage, she got to keep those 🙄.

Appearance(behavior): River as a civilian or in this case one of Bruce Wayne’s adoptive children is genuinely a kind and loving person which the batfam especially Bruce are extremely proud of considering her and all the other robins pasts, how they could keep their humanity though all they went through was honorable, doesn’t really have beef with anyone other than the villains of course (although Damian did eat her last instant ramen). She enjoys painting/drawing and is often found engrossed in a novel in the library. Her favorite food is instant ramen and she has a personal vendetta against people who eat the shrimp flavor, she is closest with Jason Todd and Cassandra Cain. If you can’t find any one of the trio you could probably find them all talking a nap together in Rivers room because she has a huge pile of random blankets and pillows in her room that she created specifically for this situation. She is VERY protective of all her “siblings” she is the 2nd oldest tied with Jason, (dick is still the oldest 🙄🤚) when Jason died she got extra protective and is always keeping tabs on each person at all times because she has a crippling fear of failure and takes losses very personally. Based off her past she actually was selectively mute for the first 3 years of living with the batfam but with some therapy and reassurance she broke out of her shell and the first words she said to them were “I love you guys” 🥺(my baby). She likes to help Alfred cook food (probably cause she is the only one who is not a liability in the kitchen).

Backstory: Rivers mother is a jungle fae and her father works for a mob gang, her mother and father were never kind to her, they were told they would make an extremely powerful offspring so they came together for the benefit of both of their sides. Rivers mother took her for the first years of her life, training her in the ways of the fae and how they fight/work, she grew up with red and orange wings (ombré) her mother found out about a special prophecy stating that River would grow to be one of the most powerful fae in a history, but to do that she would need to say goodbye to her wings. Her mother was a bit of a sadist in the fact that she slowly burned rivers wings from the base when she was 10, she now has a permanent burn scar in the shape of wings spanning her upper back. Her mother than believed that she needed to do nothing more so while they waited for rivers father she abused and neglected her to “teach her the importance of strength” because “pain is weakness” and rivers mother believed there was no room for weakness in her life. When rivers father took her he was no better, teaching her how to become an assassin deadly enough to topple governments like it was nothing, while training with her father she unlocked the power to access her phoenix, in true Author fashion it’s incredibly painful 😁🤚 basically because burn scars kinda make the skin more taught and less flexible, when she moves a certain why in a sudden movement these scars can “snap” basically the scars tear and transform into flame style wings while her tears (cause imma tell you rn there will be tears) turn into scorching embers and she has completed the “transformation” mind you her scars are actively bleeding and the blood is like trailing down her back but she’s unfazed like a badass (self projecting there, Oop- 😨). River doesn’t necessarily like transforming into phoenix (for obv reasons) so she doesn’t do it often but the batfam actually isn’t aware of her powers they are only informed on her “special training” which landed her the spot on the team.

Some references I created to give a better visual cause I’m that type o’ gurl

[sylvielauffeydottir]

Hello, it is I, your friendly neighborhood historian. I am ready to lose followers for this post, but I have two masters degrees in history and one of my focuses has been middle eastern area studies. Furthermore, I’ve been tired of watching the world be reduced to pithy little infographics, and I believe there is no point to my education if I don’t put it to good use. Finally, I am ethnically Asheknazi Jewish. This does not color my opinion in this post — I am in support of either a one or two state solution for Israel and Palestine, depending on the factors determined by the Palestinian Authority, and the Israeli Government does not speak for me. I hate Netanyahu. A lot. With that said, my family was slaughtered at Auschwitz-Birkenau. I have stood in front of that memorial wall at the Holocaust memorial in DC for my great uncle Simon and my great uncle Louis and cried as I lit a candle. Louis was a rabbi, and he preached mitzvot and tolerance. He died anyway. 

There’s a great many things I want to say about what is happening in the Middle East right now, but let’s start with some facts. 

In early May, there were talks of a coalition government that might have put together (among other parties, the Knesset is absolutely gigantic and usually has about 11-13 political parties at once) the Yesh Atid, a center-left party, and the United Arab List, a Palestinian party. For the first time, Palestinians would have been members of the Israeli government in their own right. And what happened, all of the sudden? A war broke out. A war that, amazingly, seemed to shield Benjamin Netanyahu from criminal prosecution, despite the fact that he has been under investigation for corruption for some time now and the only thing that is stopping a real investigation is the fact that he is Prime Minister.

Funny how that happened. 

There’s a second thing people ought to know, and it is about Hamas. I’ve found it really disturbing to see people defending Hamas on a world stage because, whether or not people want to believe it, Hamas is a terrorist organization. I’m sorry, but it is. Those are the facts. I’m not being a right wing extremist or even a Republican or whatever else or want to lob at me here. I’m a liberal historian with some facts. They are a terrorist organization, and they don’t care if their people die. 

Here’s what you need to know: 

There are two governments for the occupied Palestinian territories in the West Bank and Gaza. In April 2021, Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas postponed planned elections. He said it was because of a dispute amid Israeli-annexed East Jerusalum. He is 85 years old, and his Fatah Party is losing power to Hamas. Everyone knows that. Palestinians know that. 

Here’s the thing about Hamas: they might be terrorists, but aren’t idiots. They understand that they have a frustrated population filled with people who have been brutalized by their neighbors. And they also understand that Israel has something called the iron dome defense system, which means that if you throw a rocket at it, it probably won’t kill anyone (though there have been people in Israel who died, including Holocaust survivors). Israel will, however, retaliate, and when they do, they will kill Palestinian civilians. On a world stage, this looks horrible. The death toll, because Palestinians don’t have the same defense system, is always skewed. Should the Israeli government do that? No. It’s morally repugnant. It’s wrong. It’s unfair. It’s hurting people without the capability to defend themselves. But is Hamas counting on them to for the propaganda? Yeah. Absolutely. They’re literally willing to kill their other people for it.

You know why this works for Hamas? They know that Israel will respond anyway, despite the moral concerns. And if you’re curious why, you can read some books on the matter (Six Days of War by Michael Oren; The Yom Kippur War by Abraham Rabinovich; Rise and Kill First by Ronen Bergmen; Antisemitism by Deborah Lipstadt; and Israel: A Concise History of a Nation Reborn by Daniel Gordis). The TL;DR, if you aren’t interested in homework, is that Israel believes they have no choice but to defend themselves against what they consider ‘hostile powers.’ And it’s almost entirely to do with the Holocaust. It’s a little David v Goliath. It is, dare I say, complicated.

I’m barely scratching the surface here. 

(We won’t get into this in this post, though if you want to DM me for details, it might be worth knowing that Iran funds Hamas and basically supplies them with all of their weapons, and part of the reason the United States has been so reluctant to engage with this conflict is that Iran is currently in Vienna trying to restore its nuclear deal with western powers. The USA cannot afford to piss off Iran right now, and therefore cannot afford to aggravative Hamas and also needs to rely on Israel to destroy Irani nuclear facilities if the deal goes south. So, you know, there is that).

There are some people who will tell you that criticism of the Israel government is antisemitic. They are almost entirely members of the right wing, evangelical community, and they don’t speak for the Jewish community. The majority of Jewish people and Jewish Americans in particular are criticizing the Israeli government right now. The majority of Jewish people in the diaspora and in Israel support Palestinian rights and are speaking out about it. And actually, when they talk about it, they are putting themselves in great danger to do so. Because it really isn’t safe to be visibly Jewish right now. People may not want to listen to Jews when they speak about antisemitism or may want to believe that antisemitism ‘isn’t real’ because ‘the Holocaust is over’ but that is absolutely untrue. In 2019, antisemitic hate crimes in the United States reached a high we have never seen before. I remember that, because I was living in London, and I was super scared for my family at the time. Since then, that number has increased by nearly 400% in the last ten days. If you don’t believe me, have some articles about it (one, two, three, four, and five, to name a few). 

I live in New York City, where a man was beaten in Time Square while attending a Free Palestine rally and wearing a kippah. I’m sorry, but being visibly Jewish near a pro-Palestine rally? That was enough to have a bunch of people just start beating on him? I made a previous post detailing how there are Jews being attacked all over the world, and there is a very good timeline of recent hate crimes against Jews that you can find right here. These are Jews, by the way, who have nothing to do with Israel or Palestine. They are Americans or Europeans or Canadians who are living their lives. In some cases, they are at pro-Palestine rallies and they are trying to help, but they just look visibly Jewish.  God Forbid we are the wrong ethnicity for your rally, even if we agree.

This is really serious. There are people calling for the death of all Jews. There are people calling for another Holocaust. 

There are 14 million Jews in the world. 14 million. Of 7.6 billion. And you think it isn’t a problem the way people treat us?

Anyway (aside from, you know, compassion), why does this matter? This matters because stuff like this deters Jews who want to be part of the pro-Palestine movement because they are literally scared for their safety. I said this before, and I will say it again: Zionism was, historically speaking, a very unpopular opinion. It was only widespread antisemitic violence (you know, the Holocaust) that made Jews believe there was a necessity for a Jewish state. Honestly, it wasn’t until the Pittsburgh synagogue shooting that I supported it the abstract idea too.

I grew up in New York City, I am a liberal Jew, and I believe in the rights of marginalized and oppressed people to self-determine worldwide. Growing up, I also fit the profile of what many scholars describe as the self hating Jew, because I believed that, in order to justify myself in American liberal society, I had to hate Israel, and I had to be anti-Zionist by default, even if I didn’t always understand what ‘Zionism’ meant in abstract. Well, I am 27 years old now with two masters degrees in history, and here is what Zionism means to me: I hate the Israeli government. They do not speak for me. But I am not anti-Zionist. I believe in the necessity for a Jewish state — a state where all Jews are welcome, regardless of their background, regardless of their nationality. 

There needs to be a place where Jews, an ethnic minority who are unwelcome in nearly every state in the world, have a place where they are free from persecution — a place where they feel protected. And I don’t think there is anything wrong with that place being the place where Jews are ethnically indigenous to. Because believe it or not, whether it is inconvenient, Jews are indigenous to the land of Israel. I’ve addressed this in this post.

With that said, that doesn’t mean you can kick the Palestinian people out. They are also indigenous to that land, which is addressed in the same post, if you don’t trust me. 

What is incredible to me is that Zionism is defined, by the Oxford English Dixtionary, as “A movement [that called originally for] the reestablishment of a Jewish nationhood in Palestine, and [since 1948] the development of the State of Israel.” Whether we agree with this or not, there were early disagreements about the location of a ‘Jewish state,’ and some, like Maurice de Hirsch, believed it ought to be located in South America, for example. Others believed it should be located in Africa. The point is that the original plans for the Jewish state were about safety. The plan changed because Jews wanted to return to their homeland, the largest project of decolonization and indigenous reclamation ever to be undertaken by an indigenous group. Whether you want to hear that or not, it is true. Read a book or two. Then you might know what I mean.

When people say this is a complicated issue, they aren’t being facetious. They aren’t trying to obfuscate the point. They often aren’t even trying to defend the Israeli government, because I certainly am not — I think they are abhorrent. But there is no future in the Middle East if the Israelis and Palestinians don’t form a state that has an equal right of return and recognizes both of their indigenousness, and that will never happen if people can’t stop throwing vitriolic rhetoric around.  Is the Israeli Government bad? Yes. Are Israeli citizens bad? Largely, no. They want to defend their families, and they want to defend their people. This is basically the same as the fact that Palestinian people aren’t bad, though Hamas often is. And for the love of god, stop defending terrorist organizations. Just stop. They kill their own people for their own power and for their own benefit. 

And yes, one more time, the Israeli government is so, so, so wrong. But god, think about your words, and think about how you are enabling Nazis. The rhetoric the left is using is hurting Jews. I am afraid to leave my house. I’m afraid to identify as Jewish on tumblr. I’m afraid for my family, afraid for my friends. People I know are afraid for me. 

It’s 2021. I am not my great uncle. I cried for him, but I shouldn’t have to die like him. 

Words have consequences. Language has consequences. And genuinely, I do not think everyone is a bad person, so think about what you are putting into the world, because you’d be surprised how often you are doing a Nazi a favor or two. 

Is that really what you want? To do a Nazi a favor or two? I don’t think that you do. I hope you don’t, at least.

That’s all. You know, five thousand words later. But uh, think a little. Please. 

[tempenensis]

So i just wanna add to what previous anon suggested about Gojo's popularity and fans headcanons that he sleeps around with randoms.

Well first, the whole ordeal started when Gege-san said he doesn't see Gojo being sincere or faithful to anyone. It blew up basically, but the second part is because Gojo is stated to be attractive. This however, doesn't necessarily mean what people think it means, and given that Gege-san enjoys trolling and poking fun, and especially dunking on Gojo, i would really suggest some of his comments are taken with a grain of salt, especially if what is written in canon contradicts with his little remarks on his characters.

The important part of Gojo's character is that he is someone who is without a doubt deeply traumatized, went through alot of shit and probably had a problematic upbringing too. Let's take his powers into consideration here aswell, it's an ability to keep everything and everyone away from him and it is only taken down on occasions where he is around those he trusts but keep in mind that it doesn't happen often either. He had a bounty on his head since his birth. I think it is logical to think that Gojo is not the type of person that would find satisfaction out of sleeping with random civilians just to feel physical contact. Being a jujutsu sorcerer is a demanding and a dangerous job, and Gojo being the strongest has the biggest burden on his back, he's practically carrying the weight of an entire world atp. And Gojo being Gojo and him having a very selective small circle of people he hangs around trusts? It just doesn't seem in character for him to be the type to have those kinds of flings, it takes attention, time and not to mention that he is working best when alone. Civilians will become colletaral as shown in Shibuya.

Everybody is ofc welcome to different interpretation but this is just me here being critical on the reading of a character and analyzing possible aspects. Teacher giving a 16-17 yr old Gojo her numbers means nothing as it is a typical anime/manga humor that can be found in other stories aswell. I think that shouldn't be read too much into again, Gege-san enjoys poking fun at Gojo at any chance he gets. His comment didn't even sound that serious but alas... Anyways, i think if we even do consider it, it probably means that Gojo just has too many PTSD and problems to deal with, plus being the strongest to even consider a relationship. He is literally misunderstood and not viewed as Satoru but mostly as the Strongest. Big difference. He also needs to set an example for his students, didn't Gege-san also say he doesn't get much sleep? Too many things to look up on honestly. Also about Nanami being a jujutsu sorcerer and not being married.\

This got long, so sorry Lele-san but i hope my ask makes sense. Have a great day!

This, anon. Totally agree.

Tbh I don't like when people only focused on the comment about his popularity, because then his personality seems to be reduced to fit into that stereotype. But anyway, as I explained before, he is a multidimensional character, and whatever gege's comment poking fun at him, Gojou indeed is a hardworking sorcerer and a good teacher who is pretty protective of his students

[nifolution]

Dirty Secret 1

Pairing: Steve Rogers / Mutant Reader

Summary: A two year relationship kept in the dark. Will it survive? An unexpected arrival puts it to the test. The choices ahead can make them stronger or destroy them.

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, insecurity, betrayal, cheating, smut, fluff, arguments, Steve being a jerk, stupid Steve, fighting, jealousy

A/N: This is a revised copy of my oc fic. It is still written in 1st & 3rd person. 18+ only due to smut. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated.

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Chapter 1

[2 years ago]

“Look out!”

Those were the first words Steve Rogers ever said to me. I laugh thinking about it now. I heard those words screamed at me, turn around to see freaking Captain America running at me full speed and picking me up bridal style. A piece of the wall falling down where I was just standing.

“Don’t worry ma'am, I got you.” He began to race out of the crumbling building. He believed me to be a civilian in danger. It was so cute.

I was on the 24th floor at an antiques dealer's office… I wasn’t shopping. I was there to collect something precious for my client. Ok, I was stealing it. It wasn’t my business why. My clients hire me to obtain items that others can’t. Museums, banks, businesses, government buildings, nothing was beyond my reach.

This was an easy job, especially seeing as how the place was being evacuated, due to some gang with alien powered weapons wrecking the place down to the foundation. The Avengers were involved and were checking the building for anyone trapped. That’s when Steve found me and literally swept me off my feet... It was quite exhilarating, until the ceiling started coming down on top of us. He braced for the impact, protecting me with his shield and body. It wouldn’t work, it was my turn to save him.

Once we appeared outside I said my first words to him, “It’s ok, I got you.”

He opened his eyes and looked at me, confused. I watched the realization cross his face that we were now down the block from the damage. He looked back at me and smiled, “You certainly do... I’m Steve.”

I couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’m Y/N.”

“That's a beautiful name. Uh.. how did we get out here?”

“Well, that’s a little complicated,” I replied, both nervous and amused.

---------------

Turns out it wasn’t that complicated. New mutants were popping up all over the place after the third snap. Too much cosmic energy flowing around, I guess. Steve and his team were not shocked at my history or my ability, but they did see a use for it. I was offered a position, pending extensive training and so forth. I had the chance to prove myself and be able to kick ass, save the world. It was too tempting to pass up.

My new almost teammates made me feel welcome from the start. Noone made me feel like a freak or a criminal... They call what I do teleportation. I call it turning into a ball of light that blinks off and back on in a different location. I’m a damn flashlight. And my power has its limits. I can disappear and reappear someplace else, but only as far as a city over. Anything I touch will move with me though. And this is where I was deemed valuable.

The team coined my unique teleporting as “orbing.” I guess that’s better than saying flashing. Quick getaways would be my specialty. They always were, honestly. It’s what made me a proficient thief. I’d orb in, grab what I needed, and flash away without a trace. See, orbing just sounds better.

With the training program they had me on, I was able to stretch my orbing to 3 states over. I still have far to go in the fighting department, but that’s not what they really needed me for. My job is to get the Avengers in, get hostages out, emergency extractions, etc. I’m basically a quinjet on legs… I discovered I can be pretty good on stakeouts and brief undercover missions too. I’m unimposing, not stunning to look at and blend in. I pretty much go unnoticed. That’s not something they taught me. Fading away just comes natural to me I guess.

---------------

Two months into my training, I screwed up. I disobeyed my captain and he got hurt.

It was a hostile village firearm simulation. Thankfully not real ammunition, this was harmless laser rounds. I had to shoot at the target robots, while dodging the civilian robots. Steve ordered me to shoot the 3 on the left first, but I could only focus on the one in front of me that I kept missing. The 3 rushed in faster than I anticipated and I fired too late.

They descended on me and my pistol was knocked out of my hands. In a panic, I orbed behind them, but they were programmed to follow me. So when I reappeared they whipped around, guns pointed at my head. The system announced, 'You're dead, Tinkerbell.' Ug, thanks for that Tony.

Steve jumped into the arena and reminded me I wasn’t supposed to use my powers. This was an exercise to strengthen my other skills. He walked to the back of the bots to pick up my pistol.

I was tired, I was cranky and admittedly acting childish. I was fed up, “I don’t have any other skills, Captain. I orb away. That’s what I do, that’s who I am.” Indignant, I walked around to where he was standing. “This is getting ridiculous. We’ve been at this for hours. Is it ever going to be enough for you?”

Steve was about to reply when the robots spun around to follow me. There was a sickening thud and Steve stumbled forward. The damn robot smashed him in the back of the head while trying to aim at me. Steve righted himself immediately, but boy was he mad. He touched the wound, fingers coming away red.

My eyes must have been as big as saucers. “Steve, I’m…”

He held up his hand to silence me and stalked off without another word. I felt like shit. Not only did I make a mistake and act like a whiny brat, but someone else was hurt because of it. I left the training facility to return to my room. I showered and changed into my regular clothes. Then I headed to Steve’s room to apologize.

I almost lost my nerve after knocking. A sob threatened to escape. What if they kicked me off the team before I was really on it?

Steve opened the door and seemed surprised to see me. Before he could utter a word I told him how sorry I was. How very very very sorry I was and how I would never purposely get him hurt. I offered to get him ice, pain medicine, a head massage. Anything so that he would feel better and forgive me.

Steve chuckled at my babbling, “I’m ok, Y/N. Don’t worry about me, I got a hard head,” he turned around to show me that it was already healed. “It was barely a scratch. And it was partially my fault as well. You are greener than most recruits and I have to remember that. But we have to train you in all forms of combat, and you must listen and obey orders.”

“I thought I was just the getaway person,” I replied flatly. “I’m never going to be helpful in battle.”

Steve put his hands on my shoulders, pleading with his eyes. “Yes, you are our way out, but I need you to be able to handle yourself. What if I need you to grab a guard, and he fights back? I need to know you can defend yourself and subdue him. I can't be worried that you were killed when you rematerialized.”

I couldn’t let him down. I couldn’t let any of them down. “I will try harder, I promise.”

“I know you will. I believe in you Y/N. You can do this, but you have to believe in yourself too. Ok?” He wrapped his arms around me in a comforting hug. I nodded and allowed myself to enjoy his warm embrace. The feel of his strong arms, the thumping of his heart, the smell of his cologne.

That hug lasted longer than I thought it would. When Steve pulled away, I yearned to pull him back to me. I was flabbergasted when he invited me in to watch a movie. I agreed enthusiastically.

Steve sat next to me on his couch. I couldn’t even tell you what we were watching. I could only focus on how close he was. My heart was beating so fast I knew he had to hear it. And when he reached his hand out to hold mine, I damn near had a heart attack.

I kept pretending to watch the movie until Steve started rubbing circles on the back of my hand. I turned to look at him, a little bewildered, and very turned on. He slowly ran the hand that was holding mine up my arm, to rest at my cheek. His thumb smoothing over my lips. Making me tingle in all the right ways. His eyes darkened as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. Tentatively at first, but it soon became heated.

Scorchingly hot really. Steve was on top of me, devouring my mouth and leaving fiery kisses across my exposed skin. Making me breathless and needy. He was grinding on me, his hands up my shirt, kneading my breasts through my bra. My hands found all kinds of fun places to explore. I wanted to kiss each one of them. I didn’t want it to end, I could die happy having him like this.

He eventually seemed to return to his senses and pulled away. I didn’t even try to hide my disappointment. Steve looked like he was having an internal struggle, but in the end he asked me to leave. I was being dismissed.

The rejection stung. I went back to my room to lay down. Sleep eluded me as I kept playing what happened over and over in my head. Does he do this a lot? With other recruits? Why did he stop? Will this be weird tomorrow? I’m sure in his mind it was a one time thing. Me on the other hand, I’d happily keep returning to that blissful bubble we created.

---------------

The morning arrived swiftly. I walked out of my room to find Steve standing there. He handed me flowers and apologized if things went too far last night. I assured him that I was happy with everything we did. He then asked me out. I think you could have pushed me over with a feather.

Chapter 2

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

"The prequels Jedi were corrupt," is something I've just stumbled upon, again.

How are they though? How? I want an example, a single example of corruption.

Do they take bribes? No they don't, not that we ever see. What would they even do with bribes? They don't pursue material wealth.

Do they influence politicians to gain power? Lol, Riyo Chuchi almost bosses Obi-Wan Kenobi, member of the High Council, around and only backs down because he makes a reasoned argument she agrees with. Padmé Amidala is literally the only politician we see getting influenced by a Jedi to a Jedi's benefit (*cough* Anakin diverting her from her duties *cough*). The Council systematically gets shut down when they try to get something from the Senate (like when they try to get Palpatine not to bring the Zillo beast to Coruscant - Obi-Wan and Padmé *do* ask Anakin to speak to Palpatine, and it does precisely nothing.)

Do they accept a corrupt leadership? In a sense but they don't benefit from it (since most of the Senate doesn't trust them, drafted them into a war they never wanted to be part of, and essentially forces them to send their teenagers into battle because they are stretched so thin) which makes all the difference. They don't enable the corrupt system because it profits them, they support it because the alternatives they have are worse (the Separatists during TCW, who are backed by mega corporations like the Commerce Guild, Techno Union and Trade Federation, and who enslave the Twi'Lek, the Mon Calamari and the Togruta onscreen, just for starters, and use weapons of mass destruction like the Malevolence or that defoliator thing they almost test on the Lurmen when Republic weapons are specifically made not to target organic beings - see the Zillo beast arc) and because the Senate has the authority to order the Jedi to kick people out (Ahsoka) or to drop investigations (Maul in s4, Kamino in s6), and can declare them all traitors. The Jedi don't have the means to go against the whole Republic, and frankly making sure politicians aren't corrupt should primarily be the job of the billions of citizens, not theirs (the 10000~ space monks who have kids to raise and Sith Lords to deal with and would very much like to spend their days meditating and being nerds ("I was going to study that!") and helping people.)

Do they lie to their subordinates to get more power? The Council doesn't lie about its beliefs, and its members actively practice what they preach (letting go of things, staying in control of yourself, protecting the helpless...) so no manipulation there, and while they do lie or cover up things from time to time it's never to achieve power or to benefit themselves directly. The Rako Hardeen act? They lie to save the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, who, as far they know at this point, is their legitimate Commander-in-Chief. OpSec isn't corruption. They cover up the discovery that Dooku made the Clone Army to protect the Clones themselves (as stated by Yoda) and because the public would freak out and then they'd have a civil war on top of a galactic war to deal with. It doesn't benefit them, exactly, because they explicitly say they're not happy about the decision but don't see another way out. ("The right path, no. The only path.") Oh, and Obi-Wan literally tells Rex, Ahsoka and Bo-Katan about Sidious, because the Jedi aren't secretive as a rule. They share intel easily if it'll help people.

Do they seek power in any way? Ffs, when they go against Palpatine – the Sith Lord who orchestrated an entire and forced hundreds of them to for in it, along with hundreds of thousands of Clones and millions of civilians – Mace tried to arrest him twice in the name of the Senate. "In the name of the Galactic Senate, you're under arrest" and after Palpatine kills three Council members "you're under arrest, my Lord." He only tries to kill him without a trial after Sheev blasts him full of lightning for like two freaking minutes. Talk about a coup. (By the way, arresting the Commander-in-Chief of your armies when you have proof of his own corruption, when he has given himself control over the banks (Clovis arc), gotten more emergency powers (RotS), holds power over the courts (Wrong Jedi arc) and has stayed in office for longer than his term? That's not corruption, that's actively fighting fascism.)

You could argue that Obi-Wan sending troops to Mandalore is a misuse of power, but there's a Sith Lord there who could potentially tell them the identity of Sidious and this help end the war. Also, it doesn't benefit him directly since it puts Ahsoka in danger, it divides his fleet and it could get him in trouble since he didn't make the operation a secret in any way. The one time Obi-Wan does go to Mandalore for his own benefit, he does it without backup and without even using Republic property since he borrows Anakin's ship.

So maybe the Jedi are corrupt because they distort their old ideals and preach a false image of the Force? They are corrupt in the sense that they are stagnant and the Dark Side corrupted them? But... Yoda is the Order's greatest critic (see AotC) which points to self-awareness, as he's one of their most important leader, the "fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate to suffering" credo is literally how Lucas describes the Force working (see @gffa 's collection of quotes) so they are narratively correct on most of their doctrines (same goes for attachment as Lucas defines it, in opposition to love), and Yoda and Obi-Wan the quintessential Jedi are deemed worthy of immortality by non-Jedi entities. The Jedi constantly talk about how hard war is because it's against who they are at their very core ("we are keepers of the peace, not soldiers," "we are peace keepers," "unfortunately war tends to distort our point of view; if we sacrifice our ideals, even for victory, we may lose that which is most important, our honor," etc) and every decision they take is motivated by the need to protect civilians and the Order. They don't join the war, they get drafted. Hear that, Rebels!Yoda? This is why I base my understanding of Star Wars on the movies and TCW alone, aka Lucas' canon. I swear, idk wrote that part about "the Jedi joining the conflict swiftly in their arrogance" but that's not what happens in the movies. They literally go save a high profile politician and two of their own from unlawful execution and try to arrest Dooku for being a terrorist (he hired people to kill a political opponent) and a threat to the safety of the Republic (he's literally manufacturing entire armies and talking about going to war), and 200 of them get slaughtered for it, and then they get drafted as Generals despite having no military expertise and they can't say no because again, the Senate can (and would) label them as traitors, and if they don't fight the Clones have people like Tarkin leading them. (You know, just the guy who later commits genocide on a whole planet.)

Seriously, I want one, just one concrete example of the PT Order/Council being corrupt, because it's such a common accusation that surely it must be grounded in canon somehow. Right? Right?

[codenamed-queenie]

#BatsInQuarantine

I am going insane. So I poured my restlessness into one long and very detailed post and got super into it. Please enjoy this hot mess.

The Justice League, being the well-meaning virus-proof Super Friends that they are, took one good look at the news, one good look at their non-powered friends Ollie, Bruce, and their families, and collectively decided that these normal humans must be Protected At All Costs.

Now, keep in mind, Bruce is never one to roll over when it comes to being benched. 

However, he understands the importance of social distancing. He knows he needs to set a good example for his kids, and keep up appearances as Gotham’s Most Responsible Multi-Billionaire. 

So. Quarantine it is. 

But how are his kids handling it?

Dick - 

100% on board in the beginning. Gotta do the Responsible Thing. Gotta set a Good Example. Besides, guys, this is gonna be Fun. Quality Family Time is always a Must.

He lasted 2 days. 

Then he started to get twitchy. 

And as everyone knows? A Trapped Dick Grayson is a Feral Dick Grayson.

He bounces off the walls.

Literally.

“I have to climb.” 

“Dick, no.”  

“I have to climb everything.”

Has scaled the manor 16 times already. Has climbed the chandelier. The banister. Bruce. The roof. The Cave. Anything in the house that’s been bolted down and especially anything that hasn’t. 

Duke found him clinging to the wall 10 ft off the ground like Spiderman and screamed so loud it shattered glass. 

Desperate for news of the outside. 

He thrives off of it like a starving man. 

Was the one to suggest he and Barbara take a break to Social Distance from each other (”Sorry, babe, kissing spreads germs”) and experienced Instant Regret(TM) approximately 5 minutes after. 

The Family has labelled him a Flight Risk Level 1 (Most likely to say f**k it and make a break for the outside world)

Jason - 

Accidentally got trapped inside the manor with the others when Bruce called Shutdown. If he had his way, he’d be chilling in his favorite safe-house right now, binging The Witcher with Roy and Artemis, and not worrying about finding a stray brother in his sock drawer.

But he’s nothing if not an opportunist. 

The way he sees it, Jason has 3 options:

Self Improvement

Self Isolation (See Duke, Cass, and Damian)

Descension Into Madness (See Dick and Steph)

And, well, he always wanted to try a few things. Now he’s got the free time to do it.

So he settles on baking. 

Alfred’s got enough food and raw ingredients stored up to feed an army. (Not because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder in times like these. But because he’s a Panic-Buying-Hoarder all the time. Just try feeding 11+ teenagers sometime.)

Uses recipes he finds off Google.

His first few attempts are, in a word, ‘tragic’.

Alfred slips him a few of his recipe cards, and Jason suddenly starts seeing Results. 

Turns out he’s pretty good at this baking thing once he gets the hang of it. 

Hope everyone’s okay eating nothing but pie, macaroons, biscuits, and whatever else Jason whips up. 

Cause that’s gonna be the only food left by the time he’s done. 

Barbara - 

Self-quarantined with her dad. 

They’ve been binge-watching classic black and white movies together.

It’s a fun time, but she’s started to get a little antsy. Loving her dad and wanting to be around him 24/7 are, understandably, mutually exclusive. 

Calls the manor to video-chat every day.

For her sanity just as much as theirs. 

Gives everyone little challenges to film on their phones and send in. She makes compilations of everyone’s submissions so they can all watch and laugh together. 

Bonus points for Creativity

One comp shows the family trying to drop Mentos into coke bottles. 

Dick did a handstand, and dropped his Mento from the second story balcony. 

Tim did it wearing the Batman cowl. The soda exploded into his face, and the rest of the video is just Bruce’s Shrieking.

Stephanie tried it, but the bottle tipped. Everyone on camera screamed as the bottle rocketed through the front window. 

She spends most of her calls having one-on-one convos with Dick.

They’ve come up with little code phrases so they can be Cheesy even with family members lurking in the background. 

She thinks the way he clings to the monitor is cute. 

Almost like he’s giving her a hug through the screen. 

(It’s easier than letting herself worry about his mental state, at least)

Tim -

Oh this boy.

Freaked out for the first five minutes before he decided ‘hey wait, Bruce is letting me stay in my pajamas all day? Noice.’ 

Now he’s just vibing.

The rest of his family is Low-Key shielding him.

He Has No Spleen, you see.

Steph: “Someone could cough on him and he could die!”

He just goes about his day, playing Animal Crossing like there’s no tomorrow, tinkering on projects, taking naps, etc. Living his best life.

Meanwhile there’s always someone lurking behind him, keeping watch, keeping him safe. 

Dick sneezed within 5 feet of Tim once (the fact that he was on top of the dusty bookshelf Tim was perusing is irrelevant)

Jason still full-body tackled him the second Tim’s back was turned. 

No one with any symptoms--

Like, any symptoms. They don’t even have to be Corona-related.

--is allowed within 10 feet of Tim. 

Tim has been wandering the manor for weeks, now, without seeing another human being. 

(He sees Dick on the ceiling sometimes, but that doesn’t really count)

He’s been trying increasingly drastic pranks and shenanigans to draw someone, anyone, out. 

But it doesn’t matter how many times he steals Damian’s sword, or sets fire to Jason’s brownie bites.

Nobody wants to risk it. 

Cass - 

No one has seen her since quarantine started.

Everyone is approximately 87% sure she’s somewhere in the manor though

Because she does eat the meals Alfred leaves out for her.

Or at least someone does, at any rate. 

(Jason and Santa top the running suspects list)

Santa was Steph’s suggestion. For some reason it snowballed. 

It’s assumed that Cass misunderstood the meaning of ‘social distancing’ and took it too far. 

But no one knows for sure. 

She is Tim’s Guardian Angel. 

People who so much as clear their throats a little too loudly anywhere near him suddenly wake up on a different floor of the house four hours later. 

Duke came closest to spotting her while he was up in the attic. 

Either that, or there’s another Creepy Sister everyone forgot to tell him about living up there.

She is silent, and watchful, sticking to the shadows, but she does leave the occasional note out to brighten her siblings’ day. 

Things like ‘helo i love u’ and ‘hop u ar ok’  mostly. 

She is bound and determined to protect her family from this invisible threat, no matter the cost. 

Steph - 

Like Dick, she was Super Pumped at first. 

(Just kind of showed up at Wayne Manor before quarantine was enacted. The original purpose of her visit is unclear, but regardless, she’s Trapped.)

Also Like Dick, her descent into madness was swift.

She is impossible to pin down. 

Not like Cass or Damian, who’ve stayed off the grid, and are therefore Untraceable. 

No. She’s impossible to pin down, because she never stops moving. 

Switches seamlessly between Zumba on top of the Giant Dinosaur in the Batcave, and furiously knitting Alfred (the Cat) a sweater with a pair of Tim’s used chopsticks. 

Braided everyone’s hair while they were asleep.

Even Bruce’s. 

She tried to do Tim’s, but somehow blacked out and regained consciousness in the attic. 

When she woke up with a scream and a furiously twitching eye, she startled Duke out of his Makeshift Fort he built out of old cardboard boxes and antique furniture. He’s had to resort to finding a new hiding place. 

Sometimes, on the rare occasions she does sit still, staring off into the distance, she’ll suddenly start laughing hysterically. This may last between thirty seconds and thirty minutes, depending entirely on how long it’s been since she’s knitted a cat sweater or done cartwheels through every room in the house.

Blew up the greenhouse out back, somehow.

Everyone has agreed not to talk about it.

Some people were built to handle prolonged time inside their homes.

Stephanie Brown is not that way.

Damian - 

Damian Wayne Cannot Be Contained.

At least not inside the house. 

He took off thirty-six hours into quarantine. 

Thanks to the security equipment around the borders of the Wayne Estate, he can’t escape the grounds. 

(He’s tried and failed multiple times. Jason and Bruce have a running bet on how many times the perimeter alarms will go off per day.)

(Jason is winning.)

He wanders the grounds with Titus as his only companion. 

The two of them run laps, practice drills, and find ways to occupy their time. 

No one’s entirely sure what those ways are. 

In fact, nobody knows exactly where Damian is at any given time. 

Only that he is Out There. 

And he’s the best security system Wayne Manor’s ever had. 

So far, he’s stopped five groups of civilians scaling the perimeter walls before the lasers and electric nets even have a chance to deploy.

They were trying to break in and steal supplies. 

(Even ones they already had in surplus. Like Toilet Paper.)

He’s also stopped Dick from escaping twelve (12) times.

Drags him back by his shirt collar and deposits him on the welcome mat. 

Usually with a note for Alfred/Jason, requesting more fruit tarts. 

Duke - 

Did not leave the attic for two weeks. 

Then Steph discovered his hiding spot (read: was dumped there by Cassandra) which forced him to relocate to the basement. 

Yes, it turns out Wayne Manor does have a basement. 

This was a surprise to Duke, who always thought that the Batcave was Bruce Wayne’s basement. 

Alfred keeps him supplied with all the necessities:

i.e. food, magazines, assorted pastries from Jason’s latest batch, usually straight out of the oven.

Duke also snagged the Manor’s Alexa. 

She has become a sort of ‘Wilson’ to Duke’s ‘Chuck Noland’.

She is his only comfort. His only ally. 

He’s determined to wait out this quarantine, doing his best to avoid the others. 

Duke has seen these people under pressure. 

He knows exactly what he’s dealing with. 

Duke: “Alexa is the only motherf****r in this madhouse I ever respected.”

*offended butler noises from the other room*

Duke: “And also Alfred.”

[egcdeath]

opposites attract

pairing: steve rogers x villain!reader

summary: based off of the lyrics:

“you and i are two oceans apart

we're on earth to break each others hearts

in two, and it's hard

with you, when i'm too far

from you, i look at the stars,

do you?”

from ‘ferrari’ by the neighbourhood

warnings: injuries, sparring, mention of blood and bruises, angst, fluff, and banter

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i am a simple woman. i think of a hurt/comfort concept and am morally obligated to write it. (this is a repost from the other day so if you saw it before, no you didn’t)

if you’d like to be added to my taglist, click here! as always, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Thick, cushioned, cream colored walls. You supposed this was an upgrade from your last room, with its harsh and reflective steel. Every time you made an appearance here, it seemed there was a new, yet futile, attempt to keep you contained.

As you studied the pillowy surface, you drummed your fingers on the wooden table that your hands were currently strapped down to, and secretly hoped for your captor to rear his head, even if he was peeking through the double-sided mirror to your left.

Your mind proved itself to be a powerful thing, as the door ahead of you opened, and none other than Captain America stepped in, looking valiant and proud as ever.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” you greeted.

“Flux,” he said in a matter of faculty tone, nodding his head at you before pulling the chair in front of you aside and sitting down.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” you asked, as if you hadn’t been tussling with him in the streets less than an hour ago.

“Y’know, just our biweekly catch up,” he shrugged, playing along.

“Can I suggest coffee for our next meeting?”

Steve scoffed, but you almost swore that if you squinted, you could see him blush. “Enough of that,”  he mumbled before opening a yellow folder and turning it to face you. “You ready to tell me about him?” Steve asked, pointing to a printed photo of Brock Rumlow.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Captain,” you responded, looking up and batting your lashes at the man. This routine was like clockwork for you two. Fight a little, get yourself caught after a moment of weakness, and end up in an interrogation room.

“Don’t play dumb with me Flux,” he warned in a snarl, wrapping his fingers against your wrist and making you yelp. That was definitely going to leave a mark.

“Ouch, Captain. You’re being rough today, even for you.”

“I’m always rough with you,” he insisted, raising a brow as he loosened his hold on you.

“You’re being rougher than usual, that’s what I just said,” you furrowed your own brows at him. “Something on your mind?

“You’re stalling,” Steve stated while squinting at you.

“I would never do something like that, Cap,” you closed your eyes and visualized the outside of the building. “Does it have anything to do with those accords?”

You opened an eye quick enough to catch a glimpse of his jaw ticking, “I didn’t mean to strike a chord. Oh my gosh, ‘a chord’, accord. I really didn’t even mean to do that.”

You opened your other eye to get a clear view of him glaring at you. “Okay, sorry, I’ll be out of your hair in a moment,” you gave Steve a sly wink.

He stood up from the chair in a dramatic fashion, leaning down to get right in your face. “No. You won’t. Tell me everything you know about Rumlow.”

“Cap,” you pouted mockingly. “You’re not very good at this. Really makes a gal wonder why they keep sending you in to interrogate me, when you don’t seem to get much out of me.”

He grit his teeth while looking down at you, your eye contact both intense and passionate.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you began, looking away at a plain wall in an attempt to focus a bit more on leaving, “I genuinely know nothing about him.”

Steve gave you a humorless look, and your eyes naturally flitted back to him, “really,” he said drily.

“Really,” you confirmed. “We don’t really work in that whole chemical warfare field. Especially with a guy like Rumlow? He’s bad news. Did you really think that all ‘villains’,” you made air quotations on the table. “Know the intimate details of each other’s lives and plans?”

“Hmm,” Steve hummed aloud as he moved back, seemingly convinced.

“I was serious when I said that I’m leaving, though. You and I both have better things to do. But please tell Wanda that she did a good job for me, okay? I mean, civilian deaths are never pretty, but I genuinely would miss having you around.”

“I hate how you talk so much, but literally say nothing,” he huffed.

“I’m not gonna take that personal, ‘cause I know you don’t really mean that,” you sighed softly and looked away to visualize the outside of the building. “Hopefully the next time I see you won’t be UN sanctioned. Farewell, Captain.”

With those words, you were gone.

——

For the next few days of your life, you hadn’t stopped receiving an earful at the Brooklyn base. Mainly from your teammates, who seemed to never let things go, and were the nastiest gossips you’d ever met. Currently, rumor had it that Cecelia, your boss, was preparing to have a strong word with you.

You cracked your knuckles anxiously as you followed a teammate, Amelia, down into the sparring facility, as an attempt to calm your mind before whatever bad news was broken to you.

You passively listened to the TV in the corner of the room while wrapping your knuckles in preparation of getting your ass beat, and listened to the rapid fire reports from hours earlier in the day, but mainly tuned into the fight between the Avengers at the Leipzig airport.

“Have you heard?” Amelia questioned, tying up her lengthy hair as she sauntered onto the mat.

“No, tell me more,” you followed suit on the mat, rising onto the ball of your foot to the heel of your foot in an alternating rhythmic bounce.

“I guess some of it is that UN thing, but it’s probably because of the Winter Soldier,” Amelia bounced similarly to you before charging forward and throwing a left hook at you.

“No way! I thought that guy just disappeared after that S.H.I.E.L.D shit,” you dodged the swing, and went to knee her. “I swear, I asked Steve about it once.”

Amelia rolled her eyes at you, and caught your knee, pushing you down to the ground in the process. “You’re obsessed with him.”

“I think it’s mutual. And you said you’d go easy on me,” you whined, grabbing her extended hand and pulling yourself back up.

“You’re delusional, and that’s why Cec is pissed with you. In fact, Cecelia was so mad, that she couldn’t even form the words to tell you. At least, that’s what she told Naomi.”

“Why, though? It’s not like I haven’t been caught by him a million times already.”

“That’s the problem, though. What happens when they decide to send someone else in to talk to you? And they start waterboarding you, or some shit? All the sudden the Avengers know everything about us?”

“Well that wouldn’t happen, because I would leave,” you shrugged after blocking a few punches.

“I hope you’re getting all your aloof-ness out now, because Cecelia is not gonna put up with this attitude.”

You huffed, and marched over to get a sip of water, dramatically squirting it in your mouth before heading back to the sparring mat.

“Just let me enjoy this while I can, okay? I know how to protect myself,” you swung your fist in an uppercut, and Amelia maneuvered herself out of the way.

“Well, I was just reading something before this. Apparently your boy is a fugitive of the law now. It almost looks like your time is already up,” Amelia commented, delivering a stiff jab to you at the same time that you crouched.

Hearing this news, you froze up, and the punch landed right on your nose, an unsatisfying crack reverberating in your ears.

“Y/N, you alright?” She asked, approaching you as you reached a hand up assess the damage, and pulled away an extremely bloody hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled letting her lead you off of the mats and to the connected bathroom, so you could get a better look at yourself.

You were dizzy with pain, and you pressed your hand to your nose, willing it to heal. Though not your most frequently used ability, it certainly assisted some of the pain. You squeezed your face in a cringe as your bone rearranged itself.

“Is he in jail?” you asked, watching her face screw up in the mirror.

“You’re not really- you are a lost cause,” Amelia scoffed.

“You could be a little nicer to the person whose nose you just broke.”

“You’re fixing your own nose! You’re fine, okay?” she exasperatedly brought her palm up to her forehead. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Be ready to talk to Cecelia as soon as you leave this room. A word of advice? Don’t mention your work husband unless she mentions it first, okay?”

Amelia set a hand on your back and pat it, “good luck with her. If you need a sofa to crash on after this, my place is always free.”

You shook your head at yourself as she left, your own personal healing already fixing most of the damage. As you hopped into your own shower stall, you couldn’t help but question just how bad this confrontation was truly going to be.

——

You walked into Cecelia’s office after receiving a text message from her assistant, inviting you to meet with her.

You were handed a disposable cup filled with piping hot coffee as you entered, and Cecelia beckoned you to sit down in front of her. You obliged, nervously rubbing your hands on your pants as you sat.

“Y/N,” she began in a sigh, “what has gotten into you lately?”

“Nothing, just-“ the older woman put an open hand out, prompting you to stop.

“No, Y/N. You’ve let Rogers become your biggest blind spot. You let him catch you off guard and capture you nearly every single time you go out on the field! I’m starting to think that you want him to catch you.”

“What if I do?” you shrugged, feigning indifference.

“It’s not a ‘what if’ anymore, dear,” Cecelia took a deep breath. “Especially after what happened in San Francisco.”

“I- Cec, you told me that you wouldn’t bring up California anymore!” you huffed and shook your head. “It’s not even like it’s a problem. They haven’t once received intel from me,” you added.

“Something tells me that you won’t be having the same interrogator for a while at least. We were gonna take you out of the field before this whole Avengers fiasco, but I think it’s time for you to just take a break as a whole.”

“So you’re firing me?” you huffed, “great.”

“No, you are taking a break. We can get you set up in the Prague safe house, and everything.”

You weakly threw up your hands and looked away from Cecelia, not even being able to bear looking at her for the moment. What a great day you were having.

——

You sulked the whole way up to your apartment, and reached in your jacket’s pocket with sluggish speed. It was as if you couldn’t catch a break today, which was all you seemed to be able to think about while grabbing your key.

You looked up at the door, and noticed something slightly off. The door was just the slightest bit ajar, as if it was deliberately cracked for you to see. Someone was inside. Waiting for you. You held in your groan as you came to this conclusion.

You really couldn’t catch a break.

Despite your better judgement, you devised a quick plan in your mind. You could probably protect yourself, right? You closed your eyes in a blink, and imagined your kitchen. The plasticky tiles on the floor, the dent in your countertop from dropping a mug, the wooden cupboards that you’d quickly fallen in love with. The next moment, you were standing in your kitchen, right next to your silverware.

As quiet as you could possibly manage to be, you slipped your sharpest and largest knife from its home in a wooden block, and defensively in front of you. Creeping out of the kitchen and into your hallway, you examined area by area for any sign of intrusion, pointing your knife with every turn.

After finding nothing and no one, at the end of the hallway you turned, walking back down and stopping in front of your living room after noticing a few dark stains on your carpet.

You took a deep breath before walking into the open space, the pit in your stomach growing at the thought of what it was that you were about to find.

With a few timid steps, you found a shirtless Steve Rogers, sat on your couch, head lolled back, eyes squeezed shut in pain as he released shallow breaths and attempted to apply pressure to a wound. With one look at him, you yelped and involuntarily found yourself back in the hallway outside of the room, your fear strong enough to force you into teleportation.

“Funny seeing you here,” Steve began, and you stalked back into the room, your steps slightly less fearful as you stepped over his discarded tactical gear.

“Steve?” You whispered, setting the knife on a random bookshelf before kneeling down on the floor next to him. You had a plethora of questions, but you couldn’t decide what was the most important. “I- Are… What happened?”

He shrugged weakly.

“Okay, well how badly are you hurt?” You questioned apprehensively.

“Pretty badly,” he responded.

You nodded slowly while you attempted to process the entire situation. You couldn’t tell if this was a scene from your wettest dream, or worst nightmare. “I’ll be right back,” you muttered, leaving the room to grab some water to help you speed up your healing process.

As you reentered your living room, you set down the bowl of water and squatted down next to Steve once again. Dipping your hands in the liquid, and placing them on an open head wound, you found it appropriate to question him.

“Steve,” you began, watching the forehead laceration quickly shrink into a small scar. “Why are you here?”

“I had nowhere else to go,” he put plainly.

“A hospital, maybe?” you added, pushing away the hand that was currently holding down a rather bloody wound on his upper arm, and exchanging it for your own.

“Something tells me that a hospital isn’t the best place for a guy of my legal status to be at right now,” he countered while you halted your attempt to reduce the size of the wound, cracking your stiff knuckles in preparation for the final push of closing the abrasion. “Besides, this isn’t the first time we’ve done something like this before. You remember S-“

“San Francisco. Right,” you cut Steve off, and brushed off the previous comment. “This is gonna hurt a little,” you warned. before setting your fingers down, and putting an obscene amount of pressure on the bicep wound.

Steve grit his teeth so hard that you swore you could hear it. His muscles clenched as you resumed your attempt to soothe the sore.

“Hey, look at me,” you used your free hand, and gently pushed his cheek so that he was looking at you. “If I distract you, it’ll hurt a lot less. Trust me.”

He seemed to agree with you, and took in a deep breath while the corner of his eye twitched.

“How did you even find my apartment?” you asked, using your pinky to tilt his chin up, and force his view away from the cut.

“It wasn’t that hard, I mean, we’ve been tracking you and that ‘financial firm’ you work in for years,” he spoke through clenched teeth.

“You sure it’s not because you like to keep a personal tab on me?”

“No! Why would I…?”

“Because if all the Avengers knew where me and my teammates reside, we’d all be locked up already.”

“Fine, maybe I pulled a few strings. It’s just because I think you’re the biggest threat to the general public.”

“Really? The woman with the least destructive powers of all of us, not the one with super strength? Or the one who could manipulate elements? Or even, I don’t know, the person leading us?” you chuckled a bit at the poor excuse.

Steve rolled his eyes fondly, but you could clearly see the soft flush on his face.

“It’s okay, Steve. We all have our favorite coworkers.”

“We aren’t coworkers, though.”

“It seems like you’re gonna need all the allies that you can come across. Don’t get picky with me now,” you tutted, finalizing your work on his peck, and leaving behind a small, pink scar.

You let out a breath of exhaustion as you pulled your hand away, and pointlessly shook out your wrists.

“You alright?” Steve questioned, adjusting himself a bit on the sofa and grunting at the rather simple task.

“Fine. What else needs attention?”

He gestured to the light bruising on his ribs that only seemed to be getting darker by the moment.

“We should take a break first, though. You seem tired.”

“I told you that I’m perfectly fine,” you countered, setting one hand on your chest, and pointing a lazy finger at Steve, “you’re the one that needs a break.”

Steve grabbed your finger and gently pushed it down, “I don’t really, but maybe we should take a break.” He gave you a kind smile, and your heart fluttered. Even bartered and bloody, Steve managed to make you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Well, any great Captain America plans to get yourself out of this mess?” you leaned against the sofa, and twisted your torso slightly so that you could get a good look at your visitor.

“Nope, not yet,” Steve pursed his lips slightly. “Any input from the lady who seems to get out of every rock and hard place she finds herself in?”

You snickered, and shook your head at this, “not at the moment. But you have me on speed dial, right? I can get back to you when I think of something,” you joked with a wink.

“I would laugh, but I’m honestly a little nervous that my lung might pop if I do.”

“Oh fuck, Steve,” you scooted away from him so you could be closer to the bowl of water once again. “Why did we take a break? You need urgent medical attention.”

“You needed a moment.”

You shook your head and frowned, catching the inside of your bottom lip between your teeth, “don’t do that again.”

You dunked both of your hands in the water, then turned back around and set your damp hands on the bruising on Steve’s ribs, closing your eyes in concentration as you addressed the damage.

Steve howled out in pain, making you flinch as a result. With the hand doing less work, you blindly pat around in a search for something to shove into his mouth and dampen the noises he was currently making. Eventually settling on a blanket, you shoved the fabric deep into his mouth.

“Sorry,” you uttered while the muted noise of his pain rang through your ears, “neighbors.”

The task wasn’t the easiest for you either, healing what seemed like such a large break or fracture following several other injuries was depleting your energy quickly. Your arms and hands trembled as you began to watch the splotchy yellow mark begin to blend into the rest of Steve’s skin, and you were becoming more and more light headed by the second.

Feeling somewhat satisfied with your work, you pulled your shaky hands away, and leaned away from Steve’s body before losing your balance, and falling back onto your plush floor.

Steve yanked the blanket from his mouth, sticking out his tongue for a second as he attempted to pull a spare string from his mouth. He sat up rapidly, and looked down at you with raised brows, and big, frightened eyes.

“Y/N?” he asked breathily, still exhausted from his own exertion, “you still with me?”

Your chest rose and fell slowly, and you were silent for a moment before responding, “I just need a minute.”

Steve relaxed back into the sofa with the knowledge that you were at least still conscious, and waited a few beats before he spoke again, “thanks,” was all that he managed to utter.

The two of you sat there in an extremely loud silence, the only other noise being your nearly synchronized panting.

“I’m gonna go shower,” you announced after what felt like hours on your floor. You slowly rose, and dragged yourself to the bathroom in your bedroom. Hitting the shower valve, then sitting atop your countertop you let the suite fill with steam, reflecting on your bizarre day, but most of all, your interaction with Steve.

You let yourself dwell on this while you stood in the shower, forehead pressed against the warm tile as you considered the implications of every word shared between the two of you, and how you’d let this tiny crush get so far ahead of you. Maybe it really was a good idea to take some time away from New York. You were so deep in your own thoughts that you failed to catch onto the sound of the floorboard that loudly creaked in your living room, or the soft click of your front door opening and closing.

Changing into some more comfortable clothing, you exited the bathroom, and ultimately your own room ready to offer up your shower to Steve, and possibly even talk about your feelings in a serious manner with him. Yet, by the time you arrived at the couch that had held him just a half hour ago, it was vacant. In fact, your whole apartment was vacant. You’d checked three whole times.

Ending your fruitless search on your balcony, you settled down into the single plastic beach chair that you kept outdoors, and draped the blanket from your sofa that had previously been in Steve’s mouth around your shoulders. The chill of the night air contributed to the sting of your eyes when they welled up, and you told yourself that it was silly to ever think that this, you and him, could ever happen in the first place.

Gazing up at the stars, you cursed yourself for being so naive. For letting yourself fall so fast, and so hard for someone you knew so out of reach. The stars seemed to mock you, in all of their billions of years of knowledge.

Yet, part of you was comforted by the knowledge that Steve could be viewing the same constellations as you.

----

a/n: listen. i feel like these idiots have a lot of potential so if you want me to write any more of them i am totally down!

[ererokii]

— broken strings and beautiful melodies

diluc r. x f!reader

Word Count: 9.6k Warnings: major character death, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, gore, this does not follow the og plot and lore/ some spoilers for “We Will be Reunited” Archon Quest Note: this is for Attack On Academia’s Mythology Summer Collab! Please be sure to check out the masterlist for everyone else’s works. They all worked super hard and it turned out amazing! And big thanks to @reddriot and @axther for betaing <3

Synopsis: A simple love story between the Pyro Archon, and a mortal.

taglist || masterlist || server link || collab masterlist

Another four days pass and it’s finally Friday. Fridays at Angel’s Share were no different from the ones prior. Exhausted adventurers and townspeople venture inside the tavern to drink their woes away, to forget, or to have a great time. It was annoying, to say the least—hearing the laughter and cheers bouncing off the walls.

However, Diluc had to say nothing was worse than a certain pigtail braided bard strutting in with his lyre. The redhead had no choice but to serve the bard his choice of drinks after figuring out his true identity (although he still makes him pay the whole total—even if the singer can’t find a way to pay). 

Like before, the bartender lifts his head up, crimson eyes boring into the crowd gathering beside the bard at the nearby table. 

The bard’s soft voice matches with the melody of his lyre, fingers pulling and gracefully sliding past the strings. His eyes closed, telling a story to the nearby peers and the quiet man standing behind the counter. A tale Diluc heard once, yet it weighed on him all the same.

“The story of this archon is no better than the rest, yet, the most tragic comes from the debris of war. The god of War was like no other. Loads of strength, yet grief and sorrows weigh him down like an anchor in the vast ocean. Love is a mere factor, yet love is one of the many things the god brought ruin to.”

-

With heavy footsteps, a red-haired male walks along the dirt path in no shoes, wearing the silkiest of robes one could ever obtain. He hums to himself, brushing a loose strand of hair away from his face, letting out a huff of annoyance when it falls right back into the same position as before. 

He breathes in the crisp air of the summer night, relishing the winds that brush across his skin. Summers in Natlan were one of a kind. While it was scorching in the morning, when the night came around, all was calm. The harsh rays turned into blissful winds that cleansed the land of heat. 

During the other seasons, it was never too cold, nor was it ever too hot. The temperature was just right for all men, women and children. 

Located in the southwestern region of Teyvat, Natlan was home to the Pyro Archon, known as The God of War. The god, Murata, is unlike any other god. Ruthless and fierce, he does not handle any threat lightly. Anything thrown his way, he does not hesitate. With kindness and love, Murata will no doubt protect his nation.

His statues are scattered across the land. Standing with his formal rags and cloak that shields his face, Murata holds his claymore in his right hand, the tip pointing down to symbolize his foes beneath him as he celebrates in victory.

In the night sky, his statues act like lights to guide those on safe journeys home or to neighboring nations. Along with being guides, the structures are used for a place of reverence. Often many would journey far and wide to pay thanks for everything he has done. 

In the center lies the biggest of them all, flowers and candles are set up around it for ceremonial purposes. Every night new plants were replaced for the days to come. Like the other Archons, Murata was grateful for his people. When roaming the land, he spots commoners on their knees by the base of the statue during the late of night or the crack of dawn. Not wanting to disturb, the archon watches from afar. 

Today is different. Murata continues to walk along the path, listening to the noises coming from the forest animals and the creeks as the waters begin to rush at this hour of the night. He can’t help but let out the faintest of hums at the sounds of nature. 

He reaches for the side of his face, tucking a red strand behind his ear. Often the god will put his hair up into a low or high ponytail, but for outings in the cool atmosphere, he prefers to wear it down. His powers were compared to his hair many times. When describing his appearance, he listens to the children exaggerate saying his hair is literal flames that he can produce from the palm of his hands. Of course, this is nowhere near true, but a child’s imagination is quite amusing. 

In the distance, his crimson hues bore straight ahead at the small flickering light. 

“Someone must be up now,” he whispers to himself, debating on leaving them alone but instead, chooses to go up ahead and observe from a closer proximity. Muratans knew what their god looked like. He comes out during the day to pay visits but never for long periods of time. 

As quick as they see him, it's as quick as they’ll see him leave. No one can ever hold his attention for too long. 

The sound of strings being played can be heard from his spot-- and he halts. A lyre, one of his favorite pastimes and favorite instruments. 

Over the hill is a figure sitting beside the statue, back turned to him but he can see the movement of their arm. Curious, Murata continues to stalk forward quietly, not wanting to disturb the worshipper. 

The melody played is show-stopping in his eyes. He wonders if Celestia had sent down someone he was unaware of to play this just for him, and only him. If anything, he could settle on the grass and listen to them play for ages on end, wearying his immortal days out. Music was the only thing that could settle him, but not forever. 

Now, he's a mere few steps away from the cloaked figure. His face is lit up by the candles by his feet. His tongue peeks out of his lips as an unknown feeling bursts through his body. His palms felt sweaty and his heart rate increased. 

He winces when the wrong note is played, gritting his teeth together. The redhead doesn’t think much until a force pushes him backward.

“W-Why are you standing there watching me?! Don’t you know this place is meant for us to come together, not to be creepy like you just were right now?!”

“W-What?” he whispers in surprise, bringing a hand to cover his nose that suddenly feels wet. He pulls away, noticing the red drops on his skin. Blood.

“Don’t question me that way! You know exactly what you were doing…  A pig is what you are. Oh, just you wait until Murata finds out about this.”

“Murata huh?” he questions, wiping his hand on the grass, watching the blood dissolve into nothing-- the red trails of blood trickling down his nose come to an unsuspecting halt.

He clears his throat and comes to stand, staring down at the figure behind him. With the candlelight, a glimpse of crimson eyes and matching hair can be seen. In a matter of seconds, it's silent. Until there is a subtle gasp.

It amuses the Archon greatly to see a change in behavior and the fear present in the civilian's eyes. He wouldn’t dare try anything to her, but maybe it would lighten the mood if he did.

With desperate breaths of air, you reach forward and grab ahold of the man's hands, squeezing as hard as you could. “M-My Lord, I deeply apologize for my behavior! Please forgive me! I was foolish!”

“No need to be formal all of a sudden…mistakes are made and all can be forgiven. I must say, you are quite gifted with that instrument in your hand.”

Your face heats up, suddenly finding the ground much more interesting than him as you gaze down. Your god had just complimented you and yet here you are losing the composure you had seconds ago. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, hand clutching the lyre close to your chest. “It’s an honor to hear such wonderful words, especially coming from you.”

Murata stares down, an unexplainable look upon his face. Then, he smiles. 

“Your name?”

“Pardon?”

“What is your name? As someone as gifted as you, I think you deserve to have your name remembered.”

“My name is Y/N. For some reason, your kind words seem to boost my confidence. I normally don’t play in front of people, I’m too shy and afraid of their judgement. I only like to play in front of the statue… or in this case, you.”

“How about you play for me again?”

-

The angelic sounds of your lyre had been played more often since you’ve met the god. The night was when you shined, when no one was around to listen or stare at you. The dark sky made you feel alone, yet you were at peace. You found pleasure in playing for the Pyro Archon statue, yet having him sitting beside you and listening made your heart beat just a bit more than before.

During the day, you find yourself sitting under the big oak trees, the sunlight peeking through the leaves and shining upon you two. Murata lays close to you, eyes shut and lashes resting against his upper cheeks as the song lulls him to a quick nap or a state of serenity. 

He’ll comment on a subtle note, saying how he loves the pitch, or give recommendations. Many times Murata has taken your instrument and played a tune or two for you. He says every gentleman should at least know how to serenade a lady.

As a child, your family spoke highly of him. They even used him as a threat against you when you’ve done something wrong. Now that you look back, it was a mere hoax and it possibly scarred you just a bit. When you first told Murata this, he stared with his lower lip quivering before his shoulders started to shake and then, he let out a laugh. 

“Surely you didn’t believe that, right?”

“I did! I was a child, what else was I supposed to do?! I nearly wet my sheets when my mother told me that you would come and scare me!”

“Well come on now, are you still scared?”

He enjoys seeing you worked up—then again, he loves seeing you play the lyre. He stays quiet and watches your fingers move as if they had a mind of their own. You move with grace, without hesitation. There is no wrong note, no wrong string when you play. Sometimes being here with you in this moment made him feel like he was mortal. Like he was able to live freely.

Being bound to divinity in Celestia, Murata had wandered Teyvat for ages, alone. Each person he had gotten close to, he had to watch them disappear from this world in the shadows. At some point, he even had to pretend to be lost so others could forget about him. If they forgot about Murata, would the load be easier on the Pyro Archon’s shoulder?

But now, you’re aware of his status and who he truly is. If you were to stay by his side, would he be the last thing you see before you pass into the next life? He’s not sure, but he’s hoping that won’t be true. He couldn’t bear with the guilt that will get him worked once more at the thought of another mortal dying in front of his eyes. 

“Murata?” you ask one afternoon, sitting by the same statue you met him for the first time. “What’s it like?”

He steers his gaze away from the clouds and onto you, an eyebrow raised in question. “What is what like?”

“You know—” you start, messing with the material of your dress, head lowered. “Being a god?”

And then he freezes. Out of all the questions you could have possibly asked, this one had to be the most unexpected. 

“Why do you wish to know something like that?”

“I want to know what it’s like. Immortality and eternal beauty sound pretty amazing, doesn’t it?”

“No,” he immediately states, sitting upright. His body looks tense, posture perfect and hands in his lap. However, you notice the small twitch in his fingers, as if he’s thinking. You can hear the heaviness in his breathing—lips parted as the air slips in and out of his mouth.

How can living on this earth for years on end, watching people die in front of you like they are meaningless, be perfect? Is that what people thought about immortality? The faces of past friends from ages ago are nothing but a blob of color in his mind. He can’t remember their faces, nor their voices—only the memories they have shared, and even that is starting to fade away.

Murata cleared his throat, eyes fluttering shut. His chest heaved up slowly, before falling at the same rate. Soon, he opens his eyes and faces you. He reaches up and tightens his high ponytail, running his fingers through the red tresses. “The life of an immortal is not...ideal.”

“There comes a time where living forever is not as good as it seems. A human like yourself might think differently since there is an end to everyone’s journey. Death is inevitable for a human, and almost all are afraid of the end itself. Even… I am afraid there will be a time I will be cursed with that end. But for now, that’s something that rarely crosses my mind..”

And he continues. Murata proceeds to tell you about the drawbacks of being a God. When he speaks, you can see pain flash across his eyes as he recalls a memory of a loving friend who passed before him. He tells you there’s no avoiding this never ending nightmare. If there was a way he could overcome this spell of immortality, he would choose mortal life in an instant. 

He believes nothing good comes with this. In his eyes, everything gets destroyed by his hands. If he hadn’t created this nation, he wouldn’t be here with you, nor would he have people at his feet who love and worship him for everything—for giving them a home. He would be a traveler with no home, or loved ones.

The Archon doesn’t realize how much of his thoughts he spilled until he feels the warmth of another—your hand resting upon his cheek. This alerts him as he jolts, eyes wide as he stares at you. You wear a small smile, head cocked to the side. Your thumb moves on its own, wiping the tear away that dribbles down the swell of his face. 

His body relaxes, shoulders slouching as he relishes your touch, not having been caressed by another, let alone a human. If he’s being honest, it's been at least a century since he has gotten close to another mortal. It’s a foreign feeling, but he loves it nonetheless.

Your soft spoken words are enough for him to be at ease. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to continue through the suffering.”

In a vulnerable state, the tears continue to flow down his face, arms slithering around your body as he pulls you in close. At first the motion shocks you, but soon you return the action, hand resting on the small of his back and by his head, stroking the soft locks. You can hear the faint sobs that escape his lips and it’s strange. From stories, they state Murata was fierce, barely any emotion in him.

But he looks nothing more than a broken man in need of comfort. 

You press your lips against his head, humming softly to him. His arms tighten around you, a shaky breath slipping past. As much as Murata hates this feeling, but after being alone for as long as Teyvat had been founded, he thinks he deserves to be this close to someone again.

After moments of silence, the god is positioned beside you, hand resting on your thigh and head on your shoulder. His eyes feel heavy, the area feeling irritated and scratchy from his crying. As much as the thoughts still swirl in his head, they seem to be drowned out by the melody you play for him.

He lazily draws organic shapes with the pad of his finger on your skin, eyes beginning to close. 

Your lyre is one of the few beautiful things he has come across in his lifetime. You currently hold the number one spot for the most beauty he has seen but when you sit with your instrument, he swears he can see the wings of an angel behind you. 

He steers his gaze from the lyre to your face, eyes taking in the small details of your visage. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he notices the slip of your tongue peek from your lips, eyebrows creasing in concentration. Along with the melodies, he listens to your small hums as you play a song just for him-- one of worship and love.

His hand runs up your arm, halting your movements at once. Eyes opening, you stare forward for a second before looking down upon him. He recognises your confusion and lets out a laugh, hand trailing up before his thumb rests on your chin, making you keep your gaze on him.

Your face heats up at this interaction, mouth parted. Your breathing becomes uneven when you notice the close proximity. Your stomach flutters, the back of your throat suddenly going dry—no words able to slip through. His chest rises and falls just as quick as your own. 

His tongue peeks through, licking his lower lip. His crimson hues stare at your lips before averting his gaze to your eyes. As much as it’s tempting, now is not the right time.

“Beautiful,” he whispers quietly, for your ears only. “So beautiful… like an angel sent down from the divine...”

- The lyre, made of nature’s resources and carved into the most adoring shapes—the ends curving in different directions and a piece of excess wood piercing straight through the middle with a pointed tip and a rounded end. Made for the best, the lyre contains seven strings that seem to glow throughout the day and the night. 

In the middle, an emerald gem shines embedded on the wood, reflecting the rays of the sun, sparkling for all to see. Around lies the detail of the sun, the soft yellows encircling it. And just beneath that is gold details that resemble the wings of those who are free. Two flowers that are foreign to the land of Natlan are delicately engraved—their colors showing pure innocence.

The Cecilia flowers stay in bloom, never once dying out. Nor has any other grown in their place.

A perfect instrument, one of elegance and purity. Perfect for you. 

The origins of said lyre are unknown, yet when it was given to you as a young child, you didn’t dare question it. Instead, you took it with the biggest grin and thanked your father as many times as you could. You were intelligent and extremely talented. At first, your mother was skeptical of such an object being in the possession of an nine year old, but your father assured it was in safe hands. 

Since then, it’s been by your side to this day. It’s never been out of your grasp and you only let certain trusted people play it. For some reason, seeing others hold the instrument made you feel weird. 

Playing your gift made you feel like you were above the world, like you could ascend to Celestia and play for the gods. It felt as if some sort of divine power surged through your veins and riled you up. And now at the ripe age of 24, having the Pyro Archon by your side as you play for him daily, it feels as if your purpose of living has been complete. 

Seeing his soft smile and slight nods he gives when he's impressed (which is all the time) or when he places his hand on yours to play along with you. Having him close to you makes you feel warm, excited and giddy; almost like a young girl in love.

Which... You won’t lie to yourself about that. 

There have been times during the day where you catch yourself thinking about the red head. Thoughts of him swirl your head as you drift off to sleep and he’s the first thing you think about in the morning. Sometimes you notice that you make motions in the air, like you are stroking something, when in reality, you wish to have his head in your lap again as you play with the loose ends of red tresses.

The god was just so breathtaking. Staring into his eyes was mesmerizing. The color of flames held in his eyes drew you in so far, it felt as if you were walking through a pit of flames. Yet, these flames never extinguished or brought harm to you. 

“You’re lost in thought again,” Murata comments, poking your shoulder with his pointer finger. “You alright there? I don’t need you tripping over a rock or something.”

“Huh?” you ask, glancing over at him. “O-Oh it was nothing. I’m okay.” You offer a not so convincing smile, scratching the nape of your neck in embarrassment. Knowing you for a while, the god offers a nod and looks forward, his hands behind his back, steps in sync with yours.

You let your hand drop, clearing your throat as you hum, filling the silence with some noise. Your eyes wander around the area before gazing up at the tall man beside you. You take notice how the ends of his ponytail sway side to side with every step he takes.  

The apple of your cheeks heat up when you can see his back muscles flex as he straightens his posture. The shirt he wore let your imagination run wild; there was no doubt that Murta was built.

“It’s quite rude to stare,” Murata says out of nowhere, barely glancing over at you. “If you want, I can just stand in front of you so you can actually look at me face to face.”

“Oh be quiet,” you mutter, stepping forward and grabbing hold of his hand—his much larger, covering yours entirely. Upon contact, his fingers intertwined with yours, squeezing softly.

“You know I love messing with you,” he hums, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, which you respond back to him with a quiet “I know.”

The rest of the walk is filled with comfortable silence. It’s a bit chilly in the land of Natlan. One of the many summer days that turn out to be filled with crisp air and cloudy skies. Storytellers always said if it were cloudy during the season of summer, karma and misfortune was on the way—yet no one believed such lies like that. 

His hand is so warm, you think, glancing down at your conjoined hands. Ever since that day by the giant stone statue of the god where you almost kissed him, his behavior towards you changed drastically. He’s been a bit more touchy (not that it bothered you; in fact, you loved it), holding your hand and somewhat more affectionate. At the end of your day when you would say goodbye, he would pull you close and plant a gentle kiss to your cheek or sometimes even close to your lips.

Just thinking about those actions makes you flustered, looking away from him and out to the open. 

“What do you think it means to be in love?”

Hearing those words from the man beside you causes you to choke on your saliva, hitting your chest to calm your ongoing coughs. When you’re finally composed, you gasp for air and stare at him in shock. “W-What do I think about that?”

“Mhm.” He nods, inhaling deeply, his other hand reaching up into the air as if he was stretching before lowering it. “What do you think it means to be in love? I’m curious as to what you humans think it might be.”

“I-” You gulp, eyes semi wide as you try to wrack your brain for anything. That was not a question you were expecting, especially right now. “W-Why do you want to know? Isn’t love, love?”

“Well, aren't there different ones? Can’t people be in love with parts of someone? Lets say, only being in love with someone for their status in the nation. Or just their looks but not for them. 

“Well… I think being in love with someone means you don’t care about their status or who they look or who they are.”

“Even if they’re a god?”

“Even if they’re a god.” you say confidently, before realizing what he said. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Even if they’re a god,” he repeats, stopping in his tracks as he turns to face you. His cheeks are painted with soft pink, red eyes averting from you. 

Murata’s heart is racing, far faster than it ever has in his life. HIs lips are dry, his mouth is parched. His shoulders heave with every deep breath he takes. Does the sweat of his hands bother you? God, he feels like a young boy about to confess his love to a girl he’s been pining over—although he's not completely wrong.

“Murata, what’s wrong?” you ask quietly, tilting yourself a bit to look up into his eyes as his head is lowered. “Are you okay?”

“Why are you so intoxicating?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Y-You’re all I can think of,” he stutters, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can’t get you out of my mind, even though I shouldn’t get close to those I love and care for. In the end, I’ll be here and be forced to live with this overweighting guilt that rests upon my shoulders as time continues to flow knowing that you’ll be dead.”

A hiccup gets caught in the back of his throat, his thoughts becoming foggy all of a sudden. “I don’t like this feeling. I absolutely despise it.  Many times after we hung out, I thought about disappearing again like I have before I got too close to anyone again. But I can’t let you go, nor will these memories ever go away.”

“Don’t you understand?” he whispers, hand shaking as his grip becomes tighter. “I can’t lose you… you’re too special to me already. I know there will be a day where we part ways forever but I want to be a part of your journey until then.”

His confession throws you for a loop. His words continue playing over and over in your head like a song you learned the night prior. You have this unexplainable feeling in your chest, yet it warms up as the seconds pass. Your whole body feels tingly, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. 

Your quietness is too much for him to handle right now—a bit silly if you were to ask the Archon himself. “Say something,” he mutters, shaking your hand lightly. The redhead can already feel the rejection pooling in the depths of his stomach, eating away at him.

“You... Do you love me?” you whisper, looking up at him with doe like eyes. Murata can’t seem to answer for himself, one hand cupping your cheek. He moves closer, his breath fanning your face. The flames in his eyes gaze into yours, losing himself in the color before he averts down to your lips. A quiet way of asking for consent.

You lean forward, lips barely brushing against his. It’s shy between the two of you. After having such strong feelings for each other, neither of you know how to proceed. No one moves, it feels time has stopped.

You feel him pull away slightly before going back in, his lips fully pressed against yours. His other hand drops yours, instead wrapping his arm around your lower back. Your chest pressed up against his, your finger runs up his side, to the top of his shoulder and around, cradling the back of his neck.

His finger tightens around the material of your coat you wore for the day, using it as leverage to keep you standing. His kisses are soft yet fierce. The softness of his lips and his scent up close are enough to drive you insane, enough to make your knees buckle and make you want more. You want more of him, Murata.

A small grunts leaves his mouth when you tug on his hair. In return, he nibbles on your lower lip, chuckling at the small noise you produce from his motion. It’s becoming harder to breathe as you stay in this position with him. If air wasn’t a necessity, you wouldn’t go for it. 

You pull away from him, panting softly as you gaze up into his eyes. His eyes hold nothing but love and adoration as he peers down at you. The corners of his lips curve upward as he leans in, barely presses against yours again before pulling away. He sneaks in a few quick pecks, listening to your quiet laughter.

“Of course I love you.” He makes you look up at him, your face cradled in his hands as if he was holding something delicate, something that could be wrecked and destroyed any second. “That’s why I asked you what you thought about it.”

“And I love you too,” you reply softly. “I thought.. After everything you wouldn’t want to have feelings like this, let alone a human.”

“Sometimes boundaries are meant to be broken if it means true happiness.”

-

“Tensions have arisen in the land of Natlan. Nearby gods have caused quite the stir, causing Murata to put it to a halt at once. Upon ascending to his seat in Celestia, there have been prophecies saying a great misfortune is underway and can arrive in an instant. Since then, he’s been worked up. He cares much about his nation and will let no harm come its way.” 

The bard strums the string before growing silent, letting his head hang forward, his pigtails falling in his face. “It’s a true shame that such a horrid thing came to be… If only he was strong enough as he said he was.”

Murmurs arise from the drunken peers, hiccups joining the air as they beg him to continue the song. Even if some wouldn’t remember this night in the morning, this was still enough entertainment. 

“W-What happened next, bard?! Finish it!” an adventurer gasps, holding his cup of alcohol close to his chest, his cheeks heated and a light pink.

“You wish to know?” the bard asks, peeking through his lashes, his two toned eyes staring into the soul of the bartender. “Why of course!” he laughs cheerfully then clears his throat, batting his eyelashes as he brings his hand to his chest.

“Although, I’m quite parched and would love to have another cup of Dandelion Wine! What do you say, Master Diluc?”

“My answer is no. Do not ask me for something when you will not pay in the end.”

“Agh what a shame,” the bard sighs, letting his head hang back but never breaking eye contact with the redhead. “Don’t you wish to know about the ending?”

“I could care less.” Diluc speaks through gritted teeth, arms crossed over his chest, the infamous pose he does every hour of the day. “I just want you out of here.”

“I’ll pay for him!” one of the nearby men yell, fumbling with his wallet to grab the gold circles of currency to give to the bartender—and all the bard can do is smile cheekily, opening his hand. 

“Well, looks like the drink is paid for. Can I have it now, Master Diluc?”

The red head, already annoyed with the behavior of the young man in front of him, reluctantly takes the coins from the drunk. Without speaking, he serves the singer his desired drink, noticing the small smirk he wears. “Why are you smiling at me like that?” he asks, eyeing him up and down.

“Because I’m getting to my favorite part.” He takes a sip of his drink and places the cup back down. After a pleasant sigh is heard from him as he takes hold on his lyre, stroking the white petals of the Cecilia flowers. “And you’re gonna love it.”

- Melodies of the lyre were played even during the darkest of times. The soft notes were enough to make anyone who felt down happy again, or at least content, even yourself. The colors of the strings being played was enough to put you at ease. Sometimes when you’re out in the town, many children would ask you to play their favorite song or at least a simplified version if you weren’t familiar with it. 

But as of now, all of Teyvat was in ruin. Murata had told you the truth; he hated keeping you in the dark when you deserved to know. As much as he disliked saying this, your life indeed was on the line, more than his. In fact, the whole nation was at risk, along with the other six neighboring ones. 

From other Archons, Murata heard that a water monster, Osial, had arisen and was ready to ruin and kill innocents for the sake of a seat in Celestia. Morax, who was the overseer of Liyue at the time, was trying his best to seal the beast with his spears.

In this case, Murata hopes a threat like this doesn't happen to Natlan. Especially when he’s not there to protect his people, to protect you.

Murata hears a gush of wind from behind him and the earth beneath him starts shaking. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, small puffs of air slipping out of his mouth. He reaches above and tugs on the black hood of his cape. 

His archon outfit consists of silk white pants and black sleeveless shirt that resembled a vest with a slit down the middle of his torso. And to top it, a black cape flows behind, the hood covering his face from all to see. In his right hand, his fingers curl around the handle of his claymore.

A heavy burden rests upon his shoulders as he stares forward, seeing the world erupt into flames and utmost chaos. In the distance, he can hear the screams and cries of the families asking for mercy. He wonders what you would think about him if you were to see him right now. 

“Murata,” you whine, trailing the last syllable of his name as his lips peck against the bare skin of your shoulder. “Come on, you know that tickles.”

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll continue to do it,” he muses, nipping at your skin before blowing warm air onto your neck which causes you to squirm from him, pressing your hands against his chest. He listens to your soft laughs, loving the way your body moves under his touch. Your arms wrap around his neck, hugging him close as you hum, inhaling the scent you’ve grown to love. 

“Mmm… I love you.”

“And I love you too,” Murata whispers to no one, blinking rapidly when he realizes he was lost in thought and was not in fact with you, but only remembering a moment from a few days ago. In reality, here he stands in the middle of a deserted land that must be destroyed. Blood is on his hands, splattered on his face. 

“I didn’t even want to do this,” he mutters, grinding his teeth together as he proceeds to walk forward, watching red explosions burst from the ground, red blocks protruding from either ends of the nation. In the sky, the color purple takes over as lightning strikes down from the heavens and is brought forth onto the land. 

From his position, the ground had been cracked and was on the edge of being split apart if another Archon had used their powers against the nation. 

He lifts his claymore in the air, staring up at the red sky with anguish. His lips part as he whispers something to himself, reassuring that what he is about to do is alright and isn’t his fault. A sudden strike of his weapon pierces the land, flames bursting into the air and cracking the earth. 

Murata breathes heavily, leaning on the rounded edge of his weapon. Sweat trickles down his face, the hood falling off of his head. Two strands of hair fall forward, framing his face, the rest of it tied back into a low ponytail. 

The flames continue to run down the cracks which branch to smaller ones that cause the piece of rock beneath the surface to crumble and fall, leaving the terrain to become uneven. 

“Wow! Even from afar I can spot you,” a semi high pitched says from behind him. The Pyro Archon stiffens, internally groaning as he stares over his shoulder, meeting two green eyes. “Someone doesn’t look happy as he used to be.”

“Barbatos,” Murata grumbles, looking forward as he straightens his posture. With one hand, he picks his hood over his head once more and the other pulls his claymore from the ground, resting it on his shoulder. “What do you want from me now?”

“Just letting you know Morax has finished in the south region of Khaenri'ah,” Barabtos states, a frown growing on his lips as he looks away, the tips of his toes barely touching the ground as his wings keep him afloat. “You're not the only one who didn’t want this. We had no choice.”

“No choice huh…” He trails off, his claymore suddenly evaporating into thin air and gold dust left in its wake. “How are we loving, protecting gods if we just obliterated this nation with no god? What does that make us? We’re no better than those who do us wrong against our own homeland. We’re just like Decarabian. Nothing but tyrants.”

“Don’t bring up that name again.”

“Why? Because deep down you know it's true.”

“Because that was his own choice to keep us entrapped. We had no choice but to bring ruin. They felt-” Barbatos hesitates, licking his lower lip before continuing, “-they felt threatened. A nation with no god is a false one to Celestia. Everything must be in order. Khaenri’ah was not the case. We had to, or we’re next. The divine is not ready for a land with no god.”

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“Murata. If you hadn’t, who knows what would have happened to Natlan.” A deeper voice from behind him is heard, the sound of footsteps becoming louder before they stop beside him. “You and your people would have been in grave danger.”

“Unlike you, I don’t need to keep making contracts.”

Morax chuckles lightly, shaking his head, his ponytail swaying with the movement. “And how does that look on you, God of War?”

Murata shakes his head, refusing to look at the Anemo Archon and the Geo Archon. “War or not, this is not just. The victors burn bright and the losers turn to ash. This-” he motions to the now deserted land of dust and blood. The sky is a deep red, the sun or moon nowhere to be seen. The earth is uneven, mountains caving into the ground as streaks of dark colors emit from the ground. 

The spot the three archons stand upon is nothing but cracked ground, an empty space separating them and the rest of the debris. 

“This is not war.”

Even when he’s not in his right mind, the only thing that can put him to ease comes up, suddenly soothing his woes away. He closes his eyes, envisioning he’s somewhere else

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper in the god’s ear, twirling a strand of hair around your finger with a smile. “No wonder you’re a god. How could they not take you?”

“Please. You flatter me too much.” He grabs hold of your wrist, bringing it to his face, planting a kiss to it. “On the contrary, it should be you in my position. No, an angel is what you are.”

“An angel? Please, enlighten me.”

Murata shifts on his side to stare down at you, brushing the baby hairs from your face. A blanket covers your bodies from your previous intimate sessions, yet he remembers every curve, every flaw that’s perfection to his mind. “I mean, look at you. You’re too beautiful for this world.”

“Am I now?”

He nods, dipping his head slightly. The tip of his nose brushing against yours. “You are. You’re amazing. You’re everything in this world. You’re desirable but most importantly... you’re divine.”

“Wow, now I’m flattered.”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes creasing as he presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss. It lasts for a few seconds but it feels as if it goes on for years. When he pulls away, you cup his cheek. “And you are ethereal.”

The god shakes his head lightly with a sigh, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. You’re all he can think about. Even when he is busy taking away innocent lives and watching them get turned into monsters, the sweet image of your face continues to pop into his mind. You’re the light in the dark. 

He hates the feeling of being away from you, especially when he’s on close watch from Celestia. There’s something unsettling in the pit of his stomach that he can't quite put his finger on it. Murata watches Morax and Barbatos exchange a few words before he gasps, lifting his head up fast. “Natlan. It’s in danger.”

- The nation of Natlan, located in the southwestern region of Teyvat and home to the Pyro Archon, was under attack. There was no point in trying to save them, they were already too far gone. No god in sight yet the trails of monsters were left behind. Did the Archon truly love them like they said he did? Or was it all a lie to get people’s love?

The once beautiful land is ruined—looking like the one he destroyed not long ago. His statues that aided his people on their journeys far and wide were now broken and cracked. Chunks of stone litter the ground and crush nearby civilians. Whoever was standing beside those statues had been brought down along with them, no way to return. 

The god feels weak in the knees as he staggers over the dirt path that has noticeable traces of dried blood. No doubt from his people. Where are the bodies? He has no clue.

Houses have been torn apart, the roofs blown off and thrown into the field of flowers on the other side. He feels torn at heart. He wants to give up walking, already knowing the outcome but refuses to stop. He hopes that a few people, even just twenty people, can still be alive and he can move them somewhere else.

The night is cold and fresh as it was years ago. Only this time, the sounds of the animals in the creek aren’t heard and the wildlife is quiet. He looks towards the forest, hoping a deer or a boar will rush through the trees. But his hopes die when he notices that's not happening, and the habitat is burnt to ashes. 

“Somebody,” he croaks out, averting his eyes upward and freezes. Up ahead, in the center lies the biggest statue of them all, where flowers and candles are set up around it for ceremonial purposes. Every night new plants were replaced for the days to come. 

The most beautiful statue in all of Natlan has been crushed. The head of the statue is gone from the area (he can only assume it had been tossed across the nation or into the river). The candles are no longer intact,  the pieces scattered and buried into the burnt grass.

“No,” he whispers lowly before crying out, running towards it. His heart races as he steps closer and closer. All his worries and fears; he doesn’t want them to be real. He doesn’t want any of this to be real. He wants to be at home.

You.

You. 

Where are you?

He gasps for air and drops to his knees. Red eyes frantically search along the stone pieces. He plants his hands on the ground and hisses upon contact, retracting back. A rock share pierced his skin. Murata bites his lower lip as he shakes his hand, watching the piece fly off before he can continue looking.

Are you safe at home? You were, right? Surely you wouldn't come out when everything is being attacked, right? Yeah, that’s it. You’re safe at home waiting for him to return. Waiting for him to be in your arms so you can cry about your fears of losing your life and him.

And by the end he’ll calm you down, say soothing words into your ear as he holds you close, saying he’ll never leave like that again and stay with you forever. God or not, immortal or not, he plans to stay by your side. 

And then your lyre will be played for you and only you. He knows your favorite melodies. Oh so beautiful, he loves hearing you play them but this time, he’ll play for you until the end of time. 

Your lyre-

He freezes.

His hand hits something underneath the stone. Something smooth like wood and the prick of an object with a pointed tip—an all too familiar feeling.

With a grunt, he grabs ahold and heaves back, pulling it out from under the rubble. A surge of fear flows through his veins when he falls back, holding an object in his hands. 

It’s a cracked lyre, with pieces broken off where an emerald stone originally would have laid. The gold trinkets are ripped right off, the empty space now feeling dull. He notices the seven strings have now turned to three and aren’t holding their original color that glows. 

The only thing that’s untouched, however, are the Cecilia flowers. Not a hint of blood stains the white petals. 

His eyes grow wide when he gazes somewhere else, spotting a hand peeking out from the same spot he pulled the lyre from. A choked cry gets stuck in the back of his throat when it all clicks together.

You weren’t home like he thought you would have been. You weren’t waiting for him to return from his wages of war, to be in his arms. Instead, you did what you always did.

Worshipped Murata, under the ceremonial statue.

The one that caused your death. 

Tears well up in his eyes as he hugs the lyre close to his chest, mouth parting as a sob slips out. He rocks himself back and forth, shaking his head at this false reality but he knows this is all real. 

Murata babbles to himself, muttering things underneath his breath as he hyperventilates. He can’t catch his breath. His throat is closing in on him, the air too thick to even breathe right now. 

The tears blur his vision. He can’t see nor think straight anymore. The god of War was unable to save his people from the hardships of an incoming war. What kind of god was he? Was he even one? Or was he now a false one?

What seems to be years later, though it only is an hour or so, Murata finds himself standing on the edge of a cliff, dried up tears evident on his face. The whites of his eyes are red, the tip of his nose matching the same color. 

He sniffles, nose stuffed from the moments earlier. His breathing hasn’t changed a bit. His shoulders still shake with every inhale. The atmosphere around him is tense, maybe even too quiet for his liking. 

Behind him, he refuses to look back on the destruction he let happen. Even from a far enough distance, he can still clearly hear the crackling of fire and the sounds of a nation dying. 

He lowers his hand from his chest, spreading his fingers open. In a matter of seconds, the handle of his weapon appears slowly, the rest of the claymore following suit in gold dust. 

He peers down slightly, watching the red and black glow before dimming out. The slant from the edge of the weapon, one he has used to kill off his enemies without a thought. In the current state, he can see the traces of blood left behind. 

In his other hand is the damaged lyre. His fingers keep it close to his chest, his heart. One of the last things he had of you. The tip of his pointer fingers strums a string and he winces from the uneasy sound it produces. This instrument no longer plays the melodies he adored, and worse yet, the person he adores can no longer hear it. 

Murata was the Pyro Archon. Amongst the other gods, he was ruthless yet kind and merciful. When a threat was sent his way, he did not hesitate to take care of it. He took care of Natlan. 

Or, that’s what should have happened. 

He closes his eyes, goosebumps forming on his arms from the gust of wind that breezes by him, knocking his hood off. His hair that was let down swayed in the breeze, the loose ends flowing behind him. His bangs move slightly and then stop, falling in their original place. 

The rest of his cape follows in the wind, the ends flowing behind him like the draft was made just for him right now. 

“I let you down,” he says, clearing his throat. He stares at the colors of oranges, pinks and blues, meshed together to create the sunrise that he grew to love but now, he suddenly resents it. 

A single tear cascades down his face and lands on his bare chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. A rare whimper slips past his lips. With a shake of his head, Murata brings the lyre to his face, pressing his lips against the cracked wood. 

A goodbye kiss should always be special, shouldn’t it?

He pulls away, stroking the place where the gem would have been at. “I’m so sorry my love.” He averts his gaze and lowers himself, dropping the lyre on the ground underneath his feet. 

“Even I could not save you from the end of your journey. And as your god, I failed to protect you.”

When he stands up straight, his fingers tighten around his claymore. He stares down at the instrument, longing for time to change and to go back. To go back to how things were before. 

He can still hear the sound of your life and your smile popping into his mind. At the thought, his lips curl upward faintly in a small smile. 

Oh how he misses you already. He still remembers when he first saw you on that day under the statue as you played for him. You were aggressive, that was for sure. No doubt about it when you swung at him with your lyre and accused him of being a disgusting pig.

He can only blame himself. Deep down, he knew a day like this would come, but he didn’t think it would happen so soon. 

But maybe now, as he called you his angel or an angel of Celestia, you can now ascend to where you truly belong. 

This isn’t goodbye, but a farewell, he thinks, clearing his throat as he gets closer to the edge. He peers downward at the ground miles beneath him.

As he failed here, he still has a job to do, no matter what. 

So then he jumps. He brings his claymore around and over his shoulder and swings it down. Flames engulf him in whole on his way down until he hits the ground with a thud, his weapon taking up all the impact. 

-

“And thus, the Pyro Archon aided in other nations against the treacherous demons that corrupted their land. After such heroic deeds, he was never to be seen. Many questioned: where did the god of War go? Who will remain victorious?”

“Many say he disappeared to join his love in the next life. Others say he stepped down as god to live amongst the mortals as he always wanted.” The bard hums and lays his lyre across his lap. 

“It’s a shame really, how beauty can go to waste.” His fingers run over an emerald gem that lies in the middle of the wood. His lyre was beautiful. 

The edges curved in different directions with a piece of wood piercing the top with a rounded end and pointed tip. Seven strings glowed recently as he placed the object to rest. 

“But it’s not as if it was her fault.” His slender fingers run over the white petals with a faux sigh of despair. “She would have been popular amongst the folks here, if she was immortal, of course. If only he kept his word to her saying he would protect her no matter what.”

The bartender drowns out the rest of Venti’s words, his eyes trained on the wood beneath his feet. 

Diluc Ragnvindr, owner of the Dawn Winery and Angel’s Share. Information is at his fingertips wherever he goes. In Mondstadt, he is a nobleman of high status. Everyone knows about him. 

His crimson eyes hold tears as he lets out a shaky breath, bringing a gloved hand to wipe away at the water that threatens to spill. 

He tries to keep his mind off of it but he can’t suppress it.

In front of him was Lord Barbatos himself—one he knew too well from millennia ago. Having fought with him in the Archon War, and the Destruction of Khaenri’ah, Diluc knew there was no way to get rid of him. 

It shocked him the most that the bard even remembers the story from back then. Even if other storytellers told this tale, Venti was the one that pierced his heart the most. 

“Master Diluc!” At the sound of his name, the red head hesitantly lifts up his head. Venti’s annoying smile greets him, pressing his finger against his cheek in a thinking motion. 

“Did you like it? I hope you did! I try to incorporate any stories of the divine. It seems that today was a hit. Don’t you think so?”

“Why are you bringing it up?” he whispers, not caring that tears trail down his face. “Why do you need to remind me of my failure?”

The other peers don’t seem to notice the usual calm and collective man in tears. They’re all too far gone in the hole of alcohol. 

Venti’s eyebrows crease, cocking his head to the side. “Failures? What do you mean? I’m just doing my job and singing like I always do. You’re doing great things in the Wine Industry. What failure could you possibly mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean!” Diluc snaps, slamming his hands on the counter in front of him, causing the bard to jump in his seat. “You know exactly what you’re doing!”

“Oh dear oh dear,” Venti sighs, shaking his head. He picks up his lyre, placing his lips against the wood. 

“So pretty huh?” he asks once he pulls away, a small smirk on his lips as he shows Diluc. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if you got to play this?”

The strings continue to shine, dimming and going bright again. An instrument perfect for anyone and in this case, for Barbatos. 

It pains Diluc to see him with your lyre. As much as you told him you despised other people holding it, he feels much more stronger about it. He wants nothing more than to snatch it from Venti’s hands and tell him to get out. 

“Others say that he wanders in the world right about now. No one knows what he looks like though. It’s a shame if anyone were to find him and blame him.” 

Venti’s fingers run over the strings. A melody is heard in the air, louder than any of the drunk men in the room. 

Diluc feels a sob beginning to form in the back of his throat. He wants nothing of this. He wants to truly go back home to Natlan with you. He could have made you a god and you could have been here with him today. 

As much as Diluc wants to look away, he’s mesmerized by the way the singer’s fingers move gracefully against the strings. For a split second, he could have swore he saw you sitting in his place, singing softly for his ears only. 

Like the angel you were. 

“But it seems that the god is afraid of confrontation. And yet, he seems to be mourning over his lover even after her death. If anyone were to be at fault, it would be his—” 

Venti stops, peering up at Diluc through his lashes. A sinister look was evident in his eyes. He paused for dramatic effect, a smirk growing on his lips. He hums and strums the last note.

“Isn’t that right, Murata?” Venti muses, asking a question in the form of a song. But in reality, he aimed it towards the redhead god standing in front of him. 

Diluc stares dumbfounded, mouth parted and eyes red from his silent crying. His hands are balled beside him. The peers cheer for the bard and offer drinks to compensate for his amazing singing—to which he laughs it off but takes the offers regardless. 

And all Murata can do is live with his own guilt, for the rest of his immortal life. Forever.

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[sashi-ya]

interested to know what you're thoughts are on how law's character arc will end in op? his alliance with luffy, his ability to obtain the one piece, anything really.

i'm convinced he's going to die. idk why, and i really feel like it'll have something to do with the eternal life surgery. hopefully i'm wrong! but as resident law lover, i want your opinion!

Hi babe!! thank u for asking! It is a liiiilte bit (a lot) long so I hope you don't mind ♥

Well, first in first I HOPE HE DOESN’T DIE because Idk if I can handle losing him. That being said, let me tell you what I think…

As much as Law tries to hide it, Law is Luffy’s friend. So no need to have an alliance anymore. He has found in Luffy someone who wants the same as him. Law is not interested in the One Piece treasure at all. His true motivations are a little different from being the “pirate king”. Let me tell you why….

Spoilers from “One Piece Novel: Law” (canon) and Manga under the cut. -And a LONG theory -

The novel tells us about what happened after Cora’s death, how Law managed to cure himself and how he ended up meeting Mr. Wolff, Bepo, Shachi and Penguin. In the novel it is stated that Law didn’t really care about being a pirate, but his true reasons to set sail were no other than taking down Doflamingo (What Law believed was Cora’s purpose). So, in order to fulfil Cora’s will he spent two years training not only his df powers but also as a surgeon working at a local hospital. Bepo, Shachi and Pen did the same, of course. So, to be honest, I don’t think Law's first purpose was in no way to become the Pirate King.

After the battle of Dressrosa, once Doffy was defeated and Law spoke to ex admiral Sengoku, he understood that;

First, as we all know, Cora’s love was beyond any type of revenge or plan against Doffy.

And then, the unknown meaning of the D. That meaning he was probably not really interested in until he saw how Doffy reacted knowing he was a D. And of course I’m sure he asked himself a lot about why Luffy has the same secret name? Is he supposed to do something similar to Mugiwara-ya? What does that D hide?.

Then, in Wano… he states his intentions to know about the meaning of the D clearly on ch. 995 of the manga. He even asks Robin if she knows about it.

But, let’s discuss something else here. His relationship with Smoker, X-Drake and Koby. (And ofc his step grandad Sengoku)

So, as you may know before the alliance with Luffy, Law was a Shichibukai right?

So, what happened in the two years of time skip for him to become a warlord? Most of the people accepted the quick explanation that this little emo doctor one day appeared at Marineford with a box of 100 PIRATE hearts and so the marine said “Oh amazing, let’s make him an ouka shichibukai”. Weird, right? Specially when it comes to One Piece. And mainly because how the fuck did they check if those hearts were from pirates? And what does that even mean? Did Law want to show the Marine how strong he was? or...

In the same chapter Law is presented as “Trafalgar D. Water Law, Surgeon of Death & Mastermind of the Rocky Port incident”. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? WHAT HAPPENED THERE?

So, the only information we have about it till now (+10 years) is that it also involves Koby. Koby was decorated as Hero and Captain of the Marine after that because he “saved many civilians' lives”. So, we could say that if Law was the one who planned the incident and Koby fought in it at least they have met each other -at least once-.

And of course we all think Law was probably the bad guy, right? But, there are NO proofs of it whatsoever. What if Law AND Koby worked together against the 100 pirates Law left heartless? What if Law is not a real pirate, but perhaps has something to do with the Marine? Maybe the idea of creating this incident was to show fake information to the Marine. One possibility is that they wanted to show Law as a rival to hide his connections with some marines (Koby, X-Drake, Smoker) or maybe just the opposite, like "hey, this guy helps the marine" let's give him the Shichibukai title.

And by this I’m not really saying Law is a Marine. I don’t really think so. But, maybe he has something to do with the S.W.O.R.D. project where Koby, X- Drake, probably Smoker and Tashigi and Kuzan are involved.

From here I think it is important for me to clarify that -in my opinion- there are two sides of the Marine. The “bad guys” who let’s say are represented by Akainu; people who use the word “justice” WRONGLY. Those who work in the Marine just to protect nobles and tenryuubitos. And then the "good guys" those represented by Smoker, Cora, Bellemere, Koby, Garp, X-Drake, Ishoo who fight for TRUE JUSTICE. Even though if that depended on fighting with and not against some pirates.

A good example and I think Oda wanted to show this as a foreshadow of the future big war was these specific moment at Punk Hazard

Marines + SWORD + Pirates together against people sent by Doffy (a former Celestial Dragon). Or even during Dressrosa!

Aaaand what about Law’s relationship with Smoker? Remember how Law saved Smoker ass during his fight against Vergo? Remember how Law told Smoker about Green bit? Why the fuck would Law tell a marine about his plans? There is some info missing here that I hope Oda will enlighten us with it sooner.

Another of the many reasons Law might be involved in the SWORD project is his relationship with X-Drake. Back to Dressrosa arc, specifically during Cora’s flashback, X-Drake literally saved Law’s life indirectly. How? Well… the Ope Ope no mi was stolen by Cora from X-Drake's father. Little Drake was there too.

When Doffy heard the Marine radio stating they had found a child he thought it was Law and so they escaped. But in reality, the child was no other than X-Drake. Drake was adopted by Sengoku, just as he did with Cora and became a Marine. Drake and Smoker TRAINED together.

And then again, up until the current arc, with the help of Drake I think Law was able to escape Wano prison and attacked Hawkins.

And why would Drake help Law to escape if after all his dad was killed because of the events that involved little Law?... well, maybe because they are more than fellow supernovas… and what's Drake? A marine from Sword like Koby.

(Not to mention how Drake got even with Law because of his past by hitting the shit out of him during the “acting” at Wano prison in from of Hawkins).

So… to not make this text endless (even though I have many other reasons to believe Law is not a pirate at all) I'm sure Law FIGHTS for TRUE JUSTICE (besides him wanting to know about the will of D) for many reasons; 1. To avenge his family deaths, 2. To end up with the endless night the WG has brought into the world… after all he is a D, right?

But if you ask me about what's gonna happen with Luffy? I don't think he will get mad when he learns the truth about his precious Torao. After all Luffy is used to fight with the good marines against injustice! He even accepted X Drake to join them during Wano raid (Ch.990)

About his possible death, I really hope he doesn’t die, but to be honest, Oda has the power to decide it so… let’s pray this won't happen. And as he said many times “the moment someone makes a theory that’s true I will change it”.

So I could make this theory ENDLESS but for the sake of your sanity I won't go any further hahaha.

Thank u for asking, darling! ♥