#Defence over the fence

[unorchido]

How would you ppl feel like if I were to finish a book I'm writting and then post them here somewhere

It would be about this guy (my sona) and what happened and how far they've come and what they've been through! Silly, hm?

I already started writting it a while ago, I'm writting it on google drive and the title is;

'Defence Over The Fence'

Tell me what you think and if I should even finish the first chapter,,,

[applesandbannas747]

Here’s the thing. We can assume that Williams knew about the one-reserve rule from the start, and yet she took on two reserves, knowing one would be cut. It's clear from her interactions with Nick and the way she talks about him that she's betting on him, but she kept Eugene as a safety net just in case Nick couldn't improve fast enough. She's using her students as pawns to win against her old rival rather than seeing them as people she's supporting in achieving great things.

The way she approached cutting Eugene was so insensitive and shitty that it feels fucking malicious. She chose to publically cut him from the team, and to make it worse, she started it off by saying she needed the best on the team, then immediately gave the slot to Nick. That is simply an unnecessary prelude--there is no reason she needed to 'justify' her choice by outright telling Eugene he's not good enough.

Yes, Nick fenced better at camp, and yes, Williams is justified in her decision. What she's not justified in is stringing Eugene along when she knew from the start he was deadweight only to publically kick him off the team right before they actually start the season. Her treatment of him was callous and--hopefully unintentionally--cruel.

[classicwhatthefuckplotline]

watching nate in ted lasso is so surreal when you’ve originally known nick mohammed as the guy who did bits on 8 out of 10 cats does countdown. like what do you mean the same guy who’s on a redemption arc after betraying richmond fc is the same guy who made up lyrics to the jurassic park theme song????

[stasyalovem]

i think it's kinda outrageous that we see only Charles with a saber (that was a saber wasn't it? I don't know much about it tbh) in season 1, when Edwin is the one who canonically fencing. and how dare they know that George really can fence and don't give us a chance to see it on a screen. i mean this kind of fight would suit Edwin so well with his sassy nature, love to show off a bit and his elegant moves and posutre. so in season 2 i vitally need the scene opposite to boxing one, but now Edwin would teach Charles fencing (that might be a flashbacks, cause we see that Charles can use this saber a little). but more than that i just wanna see more protective Edwin who defence Charles with his rapier and skills and Charles swoon over how hot this is. but if we also could have the scene like this when they both fight together holding hands, then definetley i would be the one who swoon over this.

[d-z20]

Breaking Point

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: Agatha goes up against the Scarlet Witch in a fight and refuses to back down until the end, no matter what it may cost her. Her injuries are severe and you tend to her them, providing comfort into the night

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, hurt (A physical & R emotional but not by each other), whole lotta comfort, protective reader

Words: 1.8k

A/N: Fic is based off this request. I should clarify that I actually don't watch MMA so I'm really sorry if there's inaccuracies, I gave myself a crash course for Heavy Hits so I'm hoping it's all okay.

AO3 | Master List

The atmosphere is tense

The lights in the arena shine brightly, casting a dramatic glow over the octagonal cage at the centre. The crowd roars as “The Scarlet Witch” is announced, Wanda Maximoff striding confidently into the ring. Her crimson gear matches the fierce energy in her eyes. Across the ring, Agatha Harkness, your girlfriend, is a vision of defiance.

It’s deafening, the crowd’s energy crackling like electricity in the air. You stand just outside the octagonal cage, gripping the metal fencing as though it might somehow hold you upright. The referee is giving final instructions, but your eyes are locked on Agatha. She stands tall, her lean frame wrapped in a sleek purple sports bra and matching compression shorts, her hands taped beneath her open-finger gloves. Her dark hair is pulled back tightly into a braid, leaving no distractions. She looks lethal—confident and determined.

But you know her better than anyone. Under her stoic expression, there’s always a flicker of doubt before a match, one she’d never admit to. As her partner in and out of the gym, you’ve seen her highs and her lows. And this fight? This one feels different. Facing Wanda Maximoff is like stepping into a storm. Wanda has a reputation: precision, aggression, and devastating power.

You’re here as part of Agatha’s cornermen. Not just her girlfriend but her trainer, sparring partner, and the person she trusts most to see her through battles like these. It’s your role that allows you to stand so close to the cage. Still, you hate being this near. You hate feeling so helpless.

“Let’s go, Agatha!” You shout as the bell rings, your voice almost lost in the roar of the crowd.

The fight begins cautiously. Wanda moves like a predator, light on her feet, her red-and-black shorts glinting under the arena lights. Her punches come fast, jabs testing Agatha’s defences. Agatha responds in kind, her kicks snapping out sharply, keeping Wanda just out of reach. For a moment, it looks even. They exchange blows, neither landing anything decisive. Your heart races every time Agatha ducks or blocks a strike—so far, so good.

But as the first round wears on, Wanda’s strategy becomes clear. She isn’t just fighting to win; she’s fighting to break Agatha down. Her strikes grow heavier, targeting Agatha’s ribs and legs. Agatha manages to return fire, her high kick glancing off Wanda’s temple, making the redhead stumble. You surge with hope, pounding the cage wall in support.

“Beautiful! Keep her on the ropes, Aggie!” you yell.

But Wanda recovers too quickly. She counters with a vicious combo—an uppercut followed by a low kick that makes Agatha’s stance falter. The bell rings to signal the end of the first round, and you rush to her corner.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, your hands gentle as you wipe sweat from her face with a cool towel.

“I’m fine,” she says, but her breathing is laboured, and you can see the faint beginnings of a bruise forming on her ribs. “She hits like she’s trying to kill me, though.”

“Stick to the plan. Keep moving. Don’t let her back you into the cage,” you say firmly, holding her gaze. “You’ve got this.”

The second round is brutal. Wanda turns up the aggression, landing a spinning kick that sends Agatha staggering. You clench your fists, shouting at the top of your lungs, willing her to keep going. Agatha fights back fiercely, landing an elbow that opens a small cut above Wanda’s eye. But it isn’t enough to slow her down. By the end of the round, Agatha is clearly hurting. Her breathing is ragged, and she’s clutching her side.

“Let me call it,” you plead as the medics check her during the break. “Agatha, you’ve done enough.”

“No,” she says sharply, her eyes meeting yours. “I’m finishing this.”

The third and final round begins, and you hold your breath. Agatha gives everything she has, landing a solid right hook that makes Wanda stumble. For a moment, you dare to hope. But Wanda is relentless. She unleashes another devastating combo—a liver shot, followed by a spinning backfist that sends Agatha crumpling to the mat. The referee steps in immediately, waving Wanda off and calling a technical knockout.

You don’t wait for permission; as soon as the match is over, you’re in the cage. The sight of her lying there, blood trickling from her lip and her face already swelling, breaks your heart. She’s clutching her ribs, her breaths shallow and ragged.

“Agatha, my love, I’m here,” you say, your voice trembling, dropping to your knees beside her. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Her eyelids flutter open, and she manages a weak smile. “I totally won that, didn’t I?”

“Always the joker,” you whisper, brushing her damp hair back. “You fought like hell, sweetheart.”

With the help of the medical team, you carefully lift her, her weight pressing against you. Her arm is draped over your shoulders, and you wrap your arm securely around her waist. Every step out of the cage is agonising, her quiet whimpers slicing through you.

Back in the locker room, you lay her down gently on the physio bed. The medics confirm a fractured rib and multiple bruises but assure you it isn’t life-threatening. As soon as they leave, you stand at her side, holding her trembling hands.

“Agatha, why do you do this to yourself?” you ask, your voice breaking as you clean her up. She hisses in pain when the antiseptic touches her skin, but she doesn’t complain.

“Because I love it,” she says softly. “And because I have you to patch me up.”

“You’re infuriating,” you mutter, but your touch is gentle as you bandage her ribs and ice her swollen cheek.

—

The drive home is quiet, the weight of the night pressing heavily on both of you. Agatha leans against the car window, her face pale beneath the faint streetlights. Her breath hitches every time you hit a bump, and each sound twists like a knife in your chest. You’ve never felt so desperate to wrap her in safety, to shield her from the pain she insists on enduring for the sport she loves.

When you finally pull into the driveway, you turn off the engine and sit for a moment, just looking at her. Her eyes are closed, her brow slightly furrowed even in rest. You reach over, gently brushing your fingers over her cheek. She stirs at the touch, her lips curving into a faint smile.

“Caught staring?” she murmurs, her voice hoarse but teasing.

“As usual,” you reply softly. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll carry you inside,” you insist.

“You’re ridiculous,” she says, but there’s no bite in her words, only affection.

“I don’t care,” you reply. “You’re not walking.”

Despite her protests, she lets you carry her up the driveway, the weight of her in your arms a grounding reminder that she’s still here, still whole despite the bruises and fractures. You settle her carefully onto the couch in the living room, arranging pillows around her and draping a blanket over her lap. She sighs as she sinks into the cushions, her body finally relaxing a fraction.

“Stay,” she whispers, her eyes fluttering open to find yours. “Don’t run off.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assure her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “But you need food, Aggie. You haven’t eaten since before the fight.”

She grumbles something unintelligible, but the corner of her mouth quirks up as you disappear into the kitchen. You rummage through the fridge and cupboards, settling on her favourite comfort food—a simple grilled cheese sandwich with a cup of warm tomato soup. It’s nothing fancy, but you know it’s exactly what she’ll want.

When you return, her eyes light up at the sight of the tray. “You spoil me,” she says, her voice laced with affection.

“Rotten,” you tease, kneeling beside her as you set the tray down on the coffee table. “Now, eat. Slowly.”

She obeys, though her hands tremble slightly as she leans forward to pick up the sandwich. You watch her carefully, ready to step in if she needs help. Between bites, she keeps glancing at you, as if grounding herself in your presence.

Once she’s finished, you clear the tray and return with a glass of water and the prescribed pain medication. She tries to wave you off when you fuss over her, but you catch the way her eyes soften every time you adjust her blanket or tuck her hair behind her ear.

“Movie or book?” you ask once she’s settled again, her head leaning back against the cushions.

“Book,” she says after a moment of thought. “Something soft. Something... distracting.”

You nod, disappearing into the small shelf by the window. You pick a collection of short stories about witches you know she loves; its worn cover is a testament to how many times you’ve read it together. Returning to her side, you slide onto the couch, gently easing her to lie back against you. She winces slightly as she shifts, her body pressing into yours, but once she’s settled, her sigh is one of contentment.

“Comfy?” you murmur, wrapping your arm carefully around her waist, mindful of her ribs.

“Perfect,” she whispers, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

You begin to read, your voice soft and steady as you let the rhythm of the words wash over you both. Agatha’s breathing slows, her body melting into yours as you turn each page. Occasionally, she murmurs a comment about a line she likes, her voice laced with sleep.

By the time you reach the third story, her eyes are closed, her head tucked beneath your chin. You let the book fall to your lap, your hand shifting to stroke her hair gently. The tension from earlier in the night begins to ebb away, replaced by a warmth that feels like home.

—

Later, as the night deepens, you coax her into the bedroom. She protests faintly, her voice slurred with sleep, but you’re firm. “You’ll rest better in bed,” you say, kissing her forehead as you guide her to the mattress.

You tuck her into bed, piling pillows behind her to keep her comfortable. She looks so small, so fragile, and it breaks your heart all over again. You climb in beside her, pulling her carefully into your arms.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her voice thick with exhaustion. “I hate making you worry.”

“You don’t have to apologise,” you say, stroking her hair. “Just... let me hold you, okay? I need to feel you’re here.”

She shifts, pressing her weight into you, her head resting on your chest. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispers. “You’re stuck with me.”

You hold her tightly, the warmth of her body melting away the fear and tension that have gripped you all night. She’s here, safe in your arms, and you’ll never let her go.

To anon who requested it: I hope you enjoyed :)

[murphy-stamp]

What's happening in Palestine is not "complicated", and it's not some insane "2000 year war about religion".

1917 : The Balfour Declaration was passed by the British, signing over the Palestinian land that was not their's to begin with to the Jewish people. Jewish people are not native to Palestine, and “israel” did not exist until 1948. The Balfour Declaration was the most controversial and contested documented in all of modern history.

1936 : A partition came into play, where the British once again promised the Palestinian land to be allocated to the Jewish people to become a "Jewish state". A 3 year revolt takes place to contest the partition which brought an end the the British army having anymore control over Palestine, and over 5000 Palestinians were killed. During this time the first armed zionist group was formed (Irgun) and they launched a series of unprecedented attacks against the Palestinian people.

1946 : Irgun bombed the King David Hotel which killed another 91 Palestinians, then in May of 1948 "israel" was formed which resulted in 750,000 Palestinians being displaced and 530 Palestinian villages being destroyed - this is referred to as the 1st Nakba (which means "disaster" in Arabic) - the 2nd Nakba started on October 7th. The remaining 22% of Palestine that had yet to be occupied was then divided into the Gaza Strip and The West Bank. That same year the UN passed a legislation that allowed Palestinian refugees to return home, but they were treated as second class citizens. "israel" controls the Palestinian education, prohibits their involvement in politics & elections, they control how much food and water they get, and their medical supplies.

1956-1966 : "israel" massacred the Palestinian villages Qalqilya, Kufr, Qassem, Khan Younis, and As-Samu.

1967 : "israel" occupied the remainder of historic Palestine in Gaza & The West Bank (and by occupy I mean they forcibly removed Palestinians from their homes, demolished their homes, or lived in the upper parts of their houses, forcing Palestinians to live in the lower halves, and then they built wire fences over top of these houses on the outside to block their view of the sky and so they could also throw garbage, boiling water, & human waste at the Palestinians walking the streets below. During that time another 300,000 Palestinians were displaced. The UN called for "israel" to leave Palestine, but they did not do that.

1976 : 1000's of hectares of Palestinian land were forcibly confiscated & protests were brutally shut down.

1987 : The first Intifada starts (which means the Palestinian revolution) where "isreal" established 45 more settlements on Palestinian land. A massive peaceful protest broke out by the Palestinians to show that the occupation & brutalization of their land and people was no longer acceptable. The IOF defence minister at the time, Yitzhak Rabin, ordered the IOF to break the bones of all Palestinians who were protesting. This is when the Hamas resistance group was founded (it was actually created initially by "israel" in hopes that it would divide the Palestinian people and shut down the Muslim Brother Hood - another resistance group). During that time 1000+ Palestinians were killed by the IOF.

1993 : the 2nd Intifada begins. The Oslo Accord is signed which was meant to being "peace" and a "2 state solution", but that just turned into more brutality by the IOF and another 5000+ Palestinians were killed. The IOF instigated Palestinian protestors with 1.3 million rounds of ammunition. Diana Buttu (a Palestinian-Canadian lawyer) made a statement saying the bill for a "2 state solution" was no more than a distraction for "israel" to carry out their plan in silence from the rest of the world which was always for the extermination, ethnic cleansing, and occupation of Palestine.

2014 : The Gaza War happened. This is when "israel" introduced the apartheid wall, which further isolated the Palestinians. They also launched a large scale attack on Gaza with ariel & naval fire power, 2500+ Palestinians were killed in just 50 days. In Gaza the IOF destroyed 83 schools, 10 healthcare centres, and 12,600 housing units.

2008-2023 : 8000+ more Palestinians were killed by the IOF, and now since october 7th 23,000+ Palestinians have been killed, and 1.6 million have been displaced.

This is one of the largest ongoing examples of colonial violence in the world today.

[pretending-ican-write]

Cowboy Up - Pt.6

A/n: It's here y'all! After this part we'll be getting into the show and I can't wait to start incorporating my own character into the episodes!

I need your input! I'm currently going through the show episode by episode to pull out what I want to use for this fic and I've reached ep5 when Travis first turns up and I am seriously undecided about his relationship with the reader. It is more than likely that they would have interacted on the circuit but I'm split between him having a flirty relationship or a older-brother-protective vibe. Let me know your thoughts!

Pairing: Ryan (Yellowstone) x Dutton!reader

WC: 1649

Previous part - Next part

---

That summer was one of the hottest y/n could ever recall having in Montana.  Unfortunately hot weather didn’t negate the fact that there was always work to do on the ranch.  Yesterday one of the freshly backed colts had thrown a fit in the corral resulting in kicking the fence hard enough to break it.  So the job for the day was to put a new log into the fence so they could use the corral again.

Y/n had abandoned jeans in favour of shorts out in the sun, a tank top and she had opted to swap her cowboy hat for the cap Kayce had given her for her birthday despite having claimed she’d never wear it around the wranglers.  Lloyd was holding the log up whilst she worked to secure it to the post.

Around the corral the other hands were doing their own work and a small group of them were hiding from the sun in the shade of the barn.  They were mostly busy watching y/n do her own work, more specifically how she looked in her shorts.

“God damn that girl has an ass,” one of them commented.

Another one agreed, “you just know that she’d give you a good time.”

Colby and Ryan were a little way off cleaning tack getting more annoyed at every comment the men were making.  Ryan was getting more frustrated by what they were saying and how oblivious she was to how they were treating her.  His friend was less concerned about that and more occupied trying to stop the hand from doing something he would regret.

Rip emerged from the barn to say something to them when Ryan snapped at them, “will you shut the fuck up?  It’s disgusting to hear you talk about her like that.  She’s your boss’ daughter for fuck sake have some damn respect.  Someone’ll rip your tongues out for saying that next time.” 

Y/n overheard his shouting from across the corral and couldn’t help but smile to herself at his defence of her.  Ever since Rip had threatened him (and the rest of the bunkhouse but they clearly hadn’t taken those threats to heart) after finding her asleep in Ryan’s bunk years ago, he’d been very careful with his interactions with the younger woman.  They’d remained close friends, and he’d been instrumental in her integration with the wranglers, but it had never gone further than that despite what both of them not-so-secretly wanted to happen.

Lloyd looked at the smile on her face and rolled his eyes, “y’all have been pining after each other for years.  When will it end?”

“If I had a say in it it would’ve been over before anyone noticed but if he has it his way it seems like never,” y/n sighed, “I think Rip’s threat from forever ago ruined it.”

He watched Ryan whose eyes were on her, “might go insane if I have to watch y’all making eyes at each other for much longer.  You and I can both handle Rip if needs be.”

She laughed at the idea of someone ‘handling’ Rip.  The only people she believed were able to handle the foreman were her father and Beth, no matter how poorly her sister treated the man.  In reality, Rip had a soft spot for the youngest Dutton and Lloyd was the only wrangler on the ranch that would stand a chance arguing against Rip.  He left her to go and deal with something else, leaving Colby to help with the other side of the fence.

“Swear he woulda murdered them if it had gone on much longer,” her friend joked, “practically fire in his eyes when he saw how they were looking at you.”

Y/n shook her head, “I’ve been trying to get him to make a move since I was 18, Colby.  I don’t think he’s gonna start now.”

“I love both of you but I will help Lloyd lock you in the tack room if this goes on any longer.  Feel sorry for the poor bastard watching this for years.  I’m done with it after a few months,” Colby laughed, “just make a move for everyone’s benefit.”

-/-/-

That evening the temperature had cooled down from the scorcher of the afternoon but it was still uncomfortable, hot enough that y/n was still wearing shorts.  Most of the hands were sitting around the table playing cards but she had chosen to sit the game out in favour of reading the book she’d been waiting weeks for.  Every once in a while some of the conversation would break through her reading bubble and y/n would laugh at the insults that got thrown around half-heartedly.

After a little while the focus of their conversation moved away from their game of poker to their romance lives, or more accurately their struggles with romance being wranglers.  They were complaining about how difficult it was with their work schedules to meet girls.  Y/n shook her head slightly at their trivial problems.

“Reckon we’d all be better off if Dutton over there gave a piece of ass up,” a hand commented nonchalantly.  

As soon as the words had come out of his mouth, Ryan was out of his chair as was Colby to stop his friend doing something.  Colby grabbed his shoulder and arm, keeping him firmly away from the other hand.

“Hit a nerve have I?  Thought she was supposed to be off limits to the bunkhouse?  Just you getting at or you sharing it with your friend?  Care to let us join in on-”

Before he was able to finish his sentence, Lloyd had punched him, “you don’t speak about her like that, ever.  Anyone thinks that’s okay and there’s more than just me to answer for.  Rip will know about this.”

The tension in the room was broken by the sound of the door slamming shut and they looked up to see that y/n was no longer sitting on the sofa.

Lloyd looked over at Ryan, “I think you best follow her.  Now or never, son.”

-/-/-

Ryan exited the bunkhouse and saw her sat on the corral fence in the fading light, cigarette smoke drifting into the sky.  He headed across the drive to join her and leant against the fence beside her, letting her finish the cigarette before starting the conversation.  When she was done, y/n threw the stub into the sand and watched silently as it smoked on the ground.  Her eyes remained fixed on the mountains as if she could pretend he wasn’t there if she didn’t look at him despite the fact his arm was practically touching her thigh.

“You gonna say anything?” She asked.

Ryan sighed, “was kinda waiting for you to start the conversation this time, sweetheart.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to say.  I really don’t need you jumping to protect me the moment one of them says something about me.  Can’t be a ranch hand and not expect someone to say something about it.  I’m a big girl.  Plus Rip has it handled, something you haven’t seemed to forget,” y/n added bitterly.

“You can’t seriously expect me to just sit there and let them say that shit about you y/n?  No one should say that,” he argued.

Y/n looked at him, “that’s exactly what I expect.  You got no right to be that overprotective with the people we fuckin’ work with when you’re just as bad as them sitting staring at me like that.”

“The fuck are you tryna say,” Ryan growled.

She sighed and turned around, getting off the fence to move away from him.  Y/n turned away to take another cigarette from her pocket to avoid answering his question.  He watched her for a moment as she took a long inhale before turning back to look at him.

“It’s all good and well you tryna fight anyone who has something to say about me but we both know you ain’t gonna do anything about it except just sit there and stare because you’re fuckin afraid!  I’m so over it Ryan either make the move I’ve been waiting for you to make for 10 years or stop acting like you get a say in my life,” she ranted at him.

Ryan took her in in front of him, cigarette between her lips and frustration in her eyes before making his decision.  Within one step he was in front of her, taking a moment to see if she would stop him before taking the cigarette out of her mouth and putting it out under his boot.  Y/n inhaled sharply when he placed his hands gently on her hips, using them to walk her backwards until her back hit the barn wall.  

Ryan kept one hand on her hip and moved the other to her cheek, “last chance to change your mind, sweetheart.”

“Been waiting for you since I was 18 don’t make me wait any longer,” she whispered into the space between them.

With no more hesitation he kissed her.  Y/n responded by fisting her hands in the front of his shirt.  After a moment, he pulled away and rested his forehead against her.  Y/n allowed her eyes to fall shut as she reveled in the moment she’d been imagining for so long.

Ryan kissed her again, “do I live up to expectations sweetheart?”

“Better than I could have hoped,” y/n smiled, “we’re gonna have to be careful though.  I reckon I can handle Rip if I need to but if dad finds out he won’t hesitate to fire you and I won’t let you leave here.”

He nodded, “I’ll follow your lead.  Colby won’t say anything and Lloyd’ll just be happy that he no longer has to deal with me staring at you longingly.”

“Gonna be fun sneaking round.  Never got to do it in high school,” she teased.

Ryan laughed, “you’ll be worth it sweetheart.”

[petermorwood]

More Sword Questions...

These are further questions prompted by a post already long enough that I’m not reblogging the whole thing.  It’s here.

@softness-and-shattering (who posted the original Ask) wrote:

Thank you so much! What Im getting is that there arent any exact rules, different people and places mixed and matched sword features as they liked. Is that more or less correct? The swords that are green, is that oxidization? Theyre very pretty. And if fullers are to reduce sword weight, what are ridges for? Thanks again :)

*****

(1) Yes, it's oxidation. The uncomplimentary word is "tarnish", the complimentary word is "patina". Bronze swords in museums can be various colours ranging from green (verdigris)...

...through golden...

...to shades of brown and almost black.

I don’t know why (archaeological metallurgy is a mystery to me) but at a guess it's related to the acidity of the ground in which they were found, the proportions of copper / tin / other metals in their bronze.

It may also be the point at which conservators decided they'd gone far enough with that particular artefact and further restoration / cleaning would cause damage.

*****

(2) Ridges on sword-blades add stiffness, is the remnant of the bar or rod of steel from which the sword was made, and are created as the blade's final form is hammered out on either side, leaving a sort of raised centre-parting.

(If this is over-simplified or just plain wrong and swordsmiths reading it are going "Nooo!", please correct me!) ;->

Here's one example with a very prominent ridge, from the Victoria & Albert Museum in London...

...and another with a more restrained centre-line from the Metropolitan Museum in New York.

*****

(3) Sword shapes and features changed depending on functional requirements. If a shape worked and its use didn’t change, it stayed the same. The Roman gladius and Japanese katana are two examples of not much change in shape over several centuries.

Demands of fashion also played a part in what kind of sword was worn when and with what.

While swords (not just Messers or falchions or other "fighting knives") do appear without armour in medieval art...

...swords only became a regular part of civilian dress in the mid-late 1400s.

In Germany this was called a Reitschwert - "riding sword" - for self-defence when out (riding) in ordinary clothes. In Italy it was a spada da lato - "side-sword" - for what's now called EDC (every-day-carry) not just in war. In Spain it was an espada ropera - "robe sword" - for wear with regular clothes rather than armour.

That last one, worn down, mispronounced or just plain pinched, became "rapier", and because it was worn every day, with stylish garments, it became yet another way in which to show off.

The most common Europe-wide rapier was a "swept hilt", comprising bars and loops, while Spain and Spanish-influenced places like Italy preferred the "cup-hilt", which had a different style of swordplay.

Cup-hilts are familiar from movies because it's easy to dress up a sport-fencing sword as something much older. Here's a stage-combat modern épée and two real rapiers.

Cup-hilts could be plain metal bowls like those, or beautiful examples of chiselled, pierced metalwork.

Swept-hilts could be equally impressive.

They were proof that their wearers were dedicated followers of fashion, men of wealth and taste - and, of course, always armed and just as always ready to use what they carried at the drop of whatever was just dropped.

Duelling became a craze, laws against it were ignored, any excuse would do, and Shakespeare summed it up nicely:

MERCUTIO:  Nay, and there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou? why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more or a hair less in his beard than thou hast; thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes. What eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? With another for tying his new shoes with old riband? And yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling?

(That one about the doublet had echoes in 1922, with The Straw Hat Riot in New York, involving assaults on men who hadn't stopped wearing straw hats by the fashion-approved date of mid-September. At least nobody got run through...)

Oddly enough, portraits which include rapiers usually show swept-hilts, even in Spanish portraits where cup-hilts might be expected (I've seen a couple, but not many). Perhaps the artist didn’t have one to hand, or thought the swept-hilt style was more visually interesting.

The smallsword (shorter, lighter, less cumbersome to wear) replaced the rapier, and it too featured a lot in portraits. It was a piece of masculine jewellery, with a stiff narrow blade on an elegant hilt which might be metal...

...or some more exotic material like mother-of-pearl or porcelain.

Then fashion changed again, smallswords also went away, and once again the only people wearing swords on a regular basis were uniformed military types, whose swords could be all sorts of shapes and sizes depending on branch of service and function.

Even when that function is just to be part of regalia, and look good on parade.

[dollscircus]

Swing first, ask later. Chapter 2

(In my defence , I was trying to help a dog)

Chapter 1

Arkham Knight Jason Todd x vet!Reader

Words: 2.6k

Tags: Violence. Violence against reader. but they're fiiiiine.

Synopsis: You have little impulse control so when you slip through a fence to chase a stray dog, you get a lot more then you bargained for.

-

Maybe I should’ve thought more about those nights’ events going through the next few weeks but I kinda- pushed it to the back of my mind. Listen- being a vet can be stressful when half of the patients want to bite me in the face and sometimes even their bitchy owners want to do the same. It’s a struggle so yeah, I kinda forgot about it. Forgot isn’t the right word- pushed back? Sure. That works.

But back on topic, I was walking down the street during a usual rainy night in Gotham. I had gotten a call from a local that they had stopped a large stray dog wondering around near an old warehouse. They didn’t tell me much, but apparently the dog had been limping so I wanted to get there as soon as possible. The warehouse was old, so I didn’t pay it much mind which searching around for the dog.

Eventually I noticed a little white head poking from behind a dumpster, his fur was messy and dirty. He watched me curiously, I paused for a moment while looking at the dog.

“Oh hey handsome.” I smiled, kneeling down where I stood while pulling a small tub of wet dog food out of my bag. “I’ve got some food for you.”

I popped open the tub and set it on the ground slowly pushing it forward, the dog ever so slowly crept out from behind the dumpster. I couldn’t tell what breed the dog was, clearly a mix of many breeds. He sniffed the air while creeping closer, he was limping on his back left leg. I stayed as still as I could as the dog creeped closer, looking at me with big fearful sad eyes.

“It’s ok buddy, I’m not going to hurt you.” I said softly to him as he reached the tub, sniffing at the food for a few moments before he started to eat very quickly. I chuckled softly while watching him eat, a part of me wanted to reach out and pet him but decided against it.

I smiled softly while watching the dog, but a sudden sound caused both the dog and I to jump. The sound was probably as cat running around in the darkness. The dog scattered away from me with a little yelp, I cursed while watching the dog slip under a gap in the fence that surrounded the warehouse. This gave me a quick but decent look at his back leg. There was a wire tightly wrapped around his leg. The skin looked raw and infected.

“Fuck.” I cursed while gathering up the food tub and shoving it back into my bag. Logically, I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that crawling through a fence to a sketchy warehouse is a really terrible idea. Stupid. Reckless but hey, I grew up on the streets of Gotham. I’ve been in worst places.

The torn fence scratched at me a little while I crawled under the fence on my hands and knees, my hips got caught for a moment before I used all of my weight to pull myself forward. I huffed while standing up to look at my dirty hands, grumbling under my breath while wiping my hands on my pants.

Scanning around, I tried to spot the dog luckily I spotted the pup pretty quickly and he was standing by another dumpster watching me.

“Hey puppy.” I smiled while slowly walking over to the dog who was watching me with big curious eyes, I knelt down and offered my hand out with some dog treats. He sniffed my hand, clearly thinking for a moment before he started to eat. I chuckled softly when seeing his tail start to wag.

“Yeah, that’s the stuff. That’s our fancy treats.” I smiled while my other hand reached for the slip on leash I carried in my bag, I made sure to move very slowly while slipping it over his head. He didn’t seem to mind, licking my hand as his tail wagging weakly.

“See? I’m not so scary.” I chuckled softly before another sound startled me, one of the metal doors of the warehouse slamming open. Oh fuck. I snapped my head to look over my shoulder, only to come face to face with a heavily armoured guy, he had a cigarette between his teeth about to light it before he slowly turned his head over to me. I tensed up.

God fucking dammit. The one time my body picked freeze. Thanks.

The next few moments were filled with cursing, barking and snarling. It was mostly all a blur, I think- I bit him? I tasted blood between my teeth, and felt blood dripping down my head when he slammed my head into the dumpster then the scream he let out when the dog sunk his teeth into his arm and wrenched it side to side ripping flesh.

The next clear memory I had was scrambling up to my feet, the leash still in hand (woah 10 outta 10 priorities there) and trying to run away with the dogs whose muzzle was still dripping with blood. My head was spinning with pain as I tried to run away but a sudden white hot pain shot through my calf sending my tumbling to the ground. I looked back at my leg, it seeped with blood. Looking further back I saw the man I just struggled with still holding the gun he shot my leg with.

He shot me. He fucked shot me!? Oh- that mother fucker-

I let go of the leash so the dog wasn’t tied to me and the dog ran away whimpering. I winced in pain while looking at my leg then flickering my eye up to the man while he spoke into a radio attached to his chest. Soon he stood over me, the swirling head pain stopped me from making out what he was really saying. I could see the blood splatter across his face- ooo I bit off some of his ear.

He said something but my head was killing me. All sounds seemed so distant and my head felt heavy. Don’t pass out, don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. Please. I begged myself while looking up at the figure. Fear and anger swirled in my chest while I tried to keep myself awake but I was quickly fading.

As everything seemed so distant and painful, another figure was approaching quickly. It was vaguely familiar but I couldn’t make out much. My vision was hazy when the figure swung for the first man, fist slamming into his temple.

Huh. That reminded me of someone?

—

I don’t know what I expected to wake up to when I passed out, I remembered the sound of bones cracking from the figure striking the man who attacked me. I woke up to warmth, warmth surrounding me as I woke up. My body was sore, aching with a dull pain while my heavy eyes tried to open. I didn’t know where I was, blinking in the dull light while I started to sit up in the cot bed I was laying in. I blinked a few times when seeing the dog, I was trying to catch curled up at the bottom of the bed. Back leg wrapped in a bandage.

Confusion clouded a lot of my judgment while looking around, welded metal walls. A desk in the corner of the room covered in papers. I couldn’t make out what else was written on the papers from this distance. I tried to move when pain shot through my leg, I hissed in pain before looking down at my bandaged leg. Where was I?

I glanced over the room again but jumped when seeing him on a chair in the corner of the room, sitting on a chair with his arms crossed over his check. The Arkham Knight. I stared at him, thinking back to the last thing I remembered before passing out. The figure. It was him and that punch. He swung with his whole body. I remembered Jason swinging his punches like that.

“You shouldn’t try to move to much yet.” He said after a moment of staring at each other. That almost made me laugh. I frowned a little at him.

“You patched me up.” I said, looking down at the bandage. The criss cross pattern caught my attention. Huh. Memories from my childhood flashed through my mind. Kneeling behind a dumpster while Jason wrapped up my arm after a stray cat I was trapping clawed up my arm painfully.

“I’m not as skilled with my hands as you.” He said, arms still crossed over his chest.

“Why?” I asked, eyes flicking down when the dog raised his head and yawned. Wagging his tail at me. The knight tilted his head to the side ever so slightly.

“Repaying the favour.” He said, like it was a very simple fact but I didn’t believe that completely. I moved to swing my legs off the bed, he tensed a little at my movement but I barely noticed it.

“There’s gotta be more to it. You could’ve just dumped me as the hospital or something.” I said, looking down to the dog who started to shuffle down the bed to sniff at my arm. I smiled softly at the dog while reaching down to pet the top of his head. The knight huffed, the sound coming out distorted by the helmet.

“That would be rude to the person you didn’t call the cops of me, when they really should’ve.” He said, voice a mix with amusement and irritation. I suddenly remembered comparing him to a stray dog, embarrassment crept up my neck.

“Then what about the dog? You didn’t owe him anything.” I raised an eyebrow at him. He didn’t respond staring at me, I couldn’t read him behind the helmet. Another question lingered in the back of my mind that I pushed away.

“What happened to the guy that shot me?” I asked another question furrowing my brow a little, he didn’t respond at first. I thought he wouldn't answer me at all until he did so.

“He’s dead.” He said, a few moments passed between us. “Does that scare you?”

I thought for a moment, did it? Maybe it was a little morbid. The guy shot me but I didn’t like someone dying.

“Scare me? No, I don’t- like it.” I said, fingers brushing through the fur of the dog. “If you were going to hurt me, you’d have done it already.”

He seemed to bristle a little, adjusting his position on the uncomfortable chair he was perched on. I looked back on my leg before I started to try and pull myself up. “I appreciate the help but I need to go-”

Pain seared through my leg as I started to fall forward, losing balance due to the sudden shock of pain. I cursed feeling myself about to fall but I felt arms bracing against my shoulders. I flicked my eyes up to the knight as he was suddenly leaning over my body as his hands kept me steady.

He said my name, “You can't be moving around on that leg yet.” He warned. I didn't realise how much bigger than me, he was until he was leaning over me and looking down at me. I can't pin point why the way he said my name really clued me in. I can’t describe it. It had a softness to it that Jason even as rough as he could be sometimes always said my name with.

“Well, I’ve never really been the careful type. You remember that, don’t you?” I said, looking up at his helmet. I could see his whole body tense a little. A long moment of silence stretched on. He knew what I was implying.

I know who you are.

“You’re right, you weren’t ever the careful type.” Jason said, his body language tense. Like a spring about to snap. A small smile crossed my face, tilting my head to the side. A few feelings rushed through me. How the hell did Jason become- this? I mean- the whole get up is kinda hot. Woah woah. Let’s not go that direction.

Didn’t know masks did something for me. Let’s not unpack that.

“Jason.” I said, voice slightly hushed while he set me back in the cot. Winced slightly at my leg. He leaned back, not moving away from the cot and just standing over me. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has been. Not how I thought this would go.” He said, taking a little step back after a moment. Jason tilted his head to the side a little, he still seemed tense.

“You thought about this?” I asked, a little smile crossing my face. Jason huffed indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest. I could exactly what expression he was making in that moment, the memory of a slightly more baby faced Jason making that exact sound.

“Don’t get all cheeky with me.” Jason scoffed, but he had zero heat behind it. “Even now you’re a trouble maker.”

I huffed, reaching over pet the dog beside me. “That guy attacked me first, I was happy to just walk away.”

He huffed behind that helmet, body language tightening. He turned his face away while he foot tapped the ground in irritation, “You know better to creep around warehouses like that.”

He was right, I sighed while rolling my shoulder uncomfortably. “I know, I was just worried about the dog.”

“You should worry about yourself more.” Jason said. I shrugged while rubbing my arm and scratching at my jaw. I flicked my eyes down to the dog who was now resting his muzzle on my thigh, I looked over the bandages around his back leg.

“Says the man who bandaged up the dog.” I raised a brow at him.

“You’d have been angry if I let the dog run away before anyone could help him.” He huffed, irritation in his voice but it didn't have much real anger behind it.

I let out a very light amused chuckle, looking up at the helment and trying to imagine what his face could look like now. “What happened?” I asked before I could stop myself, wincing at little at my own words. Jason turned his head back to me, even with the helmet I could feel the weight of his gaze on me.

“Nothing you should be involved with.” He said, that lightness in his voice replaced by some coldness that wounded my heart. I frowned, a look I knew made me look all sad and pathetic. But I knew it would always work on Jason.

“Don’t give me that look.” He said after a moment, I let out a indugnet sound while flicking my eyes away. Jason let out a little sigh before he started to talk again, “Rest your leg, I’ll take you home later?”

I looked up at him as he started to turn on his heal to walk away, I blinked a few times before I hoped my mouth to speak but the words died in my throat. It had been so long since we saw each other, god knows has driven Jason to that point. Nothing good. I watched him leave the little room I was in.

I sighed while sitting in the quiet for a few moments, the dog whined a little to get my attention. Looking down at the scruffy dog, I smiled weakly. “Yeah. He’s always been like that.”

I laid back on the cot. God my body fucking hurt.

[kaciebello]

Few bucks and some ducks.

Masterlist Money mail ☼ Slytherin boys x Hufflepuff!reader (fem) Summary: Posh kids on a farm  Warnings: no use of y/n Authors note: Haiya! Can't say I like this one. Oh well. word count: 1k Song: Greek God - Conan Gray

Farms are unknown territory for teens. Well, at least for our group. When you grow up in rich wizarding families, nobody expects you to know how to feed the bigs or that cows have best friends. None of them have ever been on a farm, much less work on it. However, when a post-it was hung in the corner store where Lorenzo works at, saying help on a farm needed willing to pay 10 pounds a day, the teens jumped on to the opportunity like no other. Their goal is always more reachable when actually working. They all showed up at the farmer's door. 7 in the morning sharp. Now, the farmer didn't really know what to do with them first. While he was grateful for the help, how much work can six posh kids really work? He swears one of the kids is wearing an Armani suit.

He made sure to give them easy work. The kind he could do, but was too lazy too. The girl and Lorenzo were sent to paint the fence, from brown colour to, well, different shades of brown. Draco and Blaise were sent to get chicken eggs and the two Theo's were to wash the cows. Have any of the kids done any of these jobs? Absolutely not, but they are wizards, how hard can it be?

It turns out to be very hard when the only job you've ever done was run errands for your papá. Each of them looked like a tornado had passed twice over. The kids sat exhausted around a picnic table. Mrs. Farmer prepared sandwiches and homemade lemonade for them. They were eating in silence, not a peep from them.  Draco looked around all of them. He knew someone needed to bring the mood up. Sacrificing his friend was the best way.

“so, Blaise was courted by a chicken,” Draco says not even looking up from his food, almost perfecting the thousand-mile stare. Blaise slams his hand onto the table and turns to his friend.

“I was not!” he argues back, but with the very visible chicken feather in his hair, it was very hard to believe him. Draco just continuously nods.

“Chickens don't even do that!” Blaise tries again but his friends just laugh at him. The girl reaches over to plug the feather. Upon seeing it Blaise franticly brushes over his head.  Glaring at Mattheo he decided on his target.

“Why are you laughing, huh? care to tell us why is your shirt all chewed up.” Matteo just glares back, making it into a little staring consent between the two boys. You can hear Theodore's laugh bubble up from his chest and ring all over the patio. 

“ A cow chewed on it!” He laughed even more launder living the memory in his own little head. 

“Like you aren't all wet because one of the cows grabbed the hose from you!” Mattheo fought back, embarrassing his friend in return. Theo stopped laughing a second later.  Looking at all of them, they did not look like they had a great time. The girl and Lorenzo were probably doing the best out of all of them. Although the boys have yet to see Lorenos back and the huge brow print on his white shirt.

The girl giggles as silently as she can, very much amused at her friends' failure. They all turn to look at her studying her without her knowing. Draco glares at her before speaking,

“Is that a brown handprint on your ass?” He asks, efficiently shutting her up. and glare back at him.

“Like that's my fault.” He says in a quiet voice, slightly pointing at Lorenzo whore raises his hands in defence. One of his palms was indeed covered in dried brown paint. being author redheaded, or rather brow-headed, the two stayed quiet. 

Silence falls upon the group again. A sigh left the girl. Seems like working on a farm was not something for the 6 of them. The farmer had walked up to the kids, ready to give them new tasks. However seeing them all very much in a ruined state, he decides against it. Instead, he tells them there is a pond at the back of his property and if the kids wish to do so, they can go and take a dip.

Without any word, the teens leaned up their plates and went on their way to the pond. The farmer's wife gave them some stale bread to feed the ducks. The way to the pond is not long, and when they get there they all visibly relax. The boys undress to their underwear and leap for the water. The girl, the only one not totally ruined by the world sits down by the shore and feeds the ducks.

The sun slowly sets, painting the sky nice shades of pink and yellow. The girl kept feeding the little ducks, wishing to bring them home. A thud next to her brings her gaze to her boyfriend. He relaxed his head on her shoulder. water from the hair dripping on her t-shirt. Reaching for her hand and the feed in it, he takes some and offers it to the ducks that have nested around her and throws some to the geese that rested a few meters away from them.

 Resting for a while, the kids dried off, dressed themself and packed their stuff. Walking back to the farmhouse, they were given 10 pounds each and sent off with a handful of eggs to go home. Lorenzo and Matteo were asked to come back in two days. The farmer claimed that he did an amazing job with the cows and would like them to help him again. Even offering trippel the reward. They didn't hesitate and agreed.

On their way home, they all agreed to have omelettes for dinner tonight. And maybe the next three nights too.

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[unorchido]

Nothing much, just Tco trying to convice some character to sell their soul to them

[blubushie]

any advice?

Uhh. This is very unspecific so I'm just gonna rattle off.

Always carry a knife on you. A simple pocket knife is good enough as long as it's sharp. Worst case scenario, you have a means of self-defence. But you're more likely to use it for other emergencies, like car accidents.

Always cut away from you. Always.

Don't drink downriver from the mob.

If you have cramps, soak the cramping part of your body in hot water. Cramping muscles? Hot bath. Menstrual cramps? Just lie in the hot bath for a few hours. Drain and refill with hot water as needed. This also helps if your hips hurt from endometriosis.

Don't squat with your spurs on.

If you drive a manual, buy a winch. If you drive an automatic, buy jumper cables and enough liquor to make friends.

Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear, or an idiot from any direction.

Speak softly, but carry a big stick.

"Live fast, die young" doesn't work if you don't die young. Take care of yourself and your body. You get back what you put into it tenfold.

Speed's never killed anyone. It's suddenly becoming stationary what gets you. Drive carefully.

Closed mouths gather no boots.

Don't name anything you don't plan to eat. (You don't have to take that one literally. Think about what it means.)

Don't corner something meaner than you.

It doesn't take a very big person to carry a grudge, but forgiveness isn't owed.

On that note: forgive, but never forget.

Better to be a has-been than a never-was. Don't die wondering.

There's never lived a horse that couldn't be rode and there's never lived a cowboy that couldn't be throwed. Stay humble and be ready to hit the ground.

Never hire the people you drink with.

Don't loan to family or friends.

People say not to bite off more than you can chew but the truth of the matter is that your mouth is a whole lot bigger than you think, and willpower does a lot to help you swallow.

Any time you think you're a person of some influence, try ordering someone else's dog around.

Go after life like it's something you've gotta catch before it gets away.

Pain is just the other side of feeling good. Can't have the ups without the downs. But some aspirin goes a long way.

Solve problems like you throw cattle—dig your heels in on the big ones, and grab the little ones by the neck.

Don't always follow leaders—take your own path every now and then or you'll find yourself stepping in their shit.

The man that straddles the fence usually has a sore crotch at the end of the day, so don't spend all day on it. An hour or two of spectating the neighour's kid trying to troubleshoot his truck, though? Painless.

Drink your whisky with your gunhand to show good intentions.

Apologies go better with drinks, and even better with a meal.

Don't aim at nothing you don't intend to destroy. This doesn't just apply to firearms—words are weapons too.

It's better to be judged by six than carried by twelve. Invest in self-defence.

Superheroes aren't real, but everyday heroes are. The littlest things can make a difference. Golden rule.

If you're helping someone pulled over on a road, approach them from their passenger side. You're less likely to get hit, and you won't look as threatening.

Don't walk in roads at night, and always use the pedestrian crossing. As least if you get hit they have to pay your medical bills, and you can sue.

Dig before you shit.

Horses have bad days too.

Love your enemies, but keep your pistol loaded and oiled.

The best way to get a man to do something is to suggest he's too old for it. I'm serious—it doesn't attack his masculinity and he's less likely to get legitimately angry with you.

If you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough.

Die with your boots on (and, if you're my grandad, balls intact).

If you're gonna get a tattoo, wait a year. If it's your partner's name, wait three.

Trust your dog. He's got better instincts than you.

Always trust a mule over a horse. He'll find the best way around.

If it's winter and your engine bay is making weird noises, you can probably ignore them until spring.

Bravery without the presence of fear is just stupidity. You can't be brave if you're not afraid first. Fear is a reaction but courage is a decision.

Everyone thinks they're hot shit until they trip on their spurs.

Your actions speak louder than your words, and people often won't believe what they haven't seen. Make peace with that.

Your handshake is worth more than your signature. That said, get shit in writing.

Don't be afraid of fucking up. Good judgement comes from experience, and most of experience comes from bad judgement.

Sometimes doing something wrong is better than not doing anything at all.

The most important project you'll ever work on is yourself.

I don't believe in "once a cheater, always a cheater", because people do change in time and learn, but I will say this much: If they'll cheat with you, they'll cheat on you.

There's no point wasting time in hoping for a better past.

Your boss shits too.

Adults are just grown-up children. Not one of us knows what the fuck we're actually doing.

You don't have to attend every argument you're invited to.

Don't turn your back on the bull until you're out of the ring.

[livin4woso]

Breaking the media

Chapter 8- debut

Training over the next few days flew by as all you could think of the idea of your Barcelona debut the head coaches has been hinting at it due to playing a team that we were sure to beat with flying colours. Realistically you knew you would only average 10 to 15 minutes max game time but even still to play for barca was an honour to you considering you grew up in a concil estate in a small town in North east England where the local street garage was the goal and the fences created the lines for the pitch.

Alexia had drove you to the stadium where you were greeted by the staff "bon dia ms putellas" they said acknowledging the queen of Barcelona, if a city could be pictured as a person Barcelona was alexia everywhere you went it was alexia, from her shirt to even murals of her it was like the city was encapsulated by her presence and yet she was encapsulated by your presence and no matter how much she cared about football you managed to be above it. "Bon dia" she replied waving and ushering you into the stadium guiding you to the changing rooms. She swung the door open and as usual due to her being captain you two had been the first ones there and as you looked around the room you had seen your shirt your last name printed on in white and underneath the number 28 it was almost like a fever dream you couldn't believe it. "Come on pequeña stop staring and get changed" she said as she took her coat and bag off and put them on to her area of the changing room.

After 20 minutes the changing room was full and all the girls had arrived. You had been informed of being on the 6 there was still a chance of you being subbed on to play, but it just depended on the score line and how the team was playing. The match had begun, and Caroline had made light work of the defence to swing one into the top corner just 10 minutes into the game. Next, it was aitana to dribble through the centre halfs and volley the ball into the bottom corner as it skimmed the keepers fingers at 30 minutes. The half-time whistle came quicker than expected as you chatted to vicky and pina on the bench. The first half had finished at 3-0 with caro scoring another goal in stoppage time. While the majority of the girls went into the tunnel, you had been instructed to warm up on the pitch, which had got your hopes up more than it should have. You watched as the girls made there way back on the pitch so you returned to your seat on the bench it was in the back corner as although you liked to see what was happening you weren't gonna get on the pitch so might aswell not inconvenience the other girls who would have to scramble over your lap.

It was the 75th minute when the refs whistle had blew you had looked over your seat to see lucy down on the floor. 'Y/n go warm up just in case, " jona instructed you as you made your way to warm up on the side line of the pitch, keeping your eye on lucy. Thats when the medics came on the pitch and you were called back up to jona "y/n your going on take your bib off and get ready" jona said as soon as the words you were practically throwing the bib off and over your head. Lucy was up again, so luckily, it wasn't that serious, but she hobbled her way off the pitch and sent a small smile to you as the official held up the sign for you to be subbed on. As you ran on the pitch the crowd erupted in applause you clapped as you made your way to the position but before zoning into focus on the game you soaked up the fans reaction the way the club had welcomed you. It felt like home the pitch became quiet and all you could hear was your teamates and the sound of the ball it was like no one else was there it was just you and the ball and it was perfect.

As the winger came sprinting with the ball down your side of the pitch doing step overs trying to throw you off the ball you used all the energy in your legs and launched your foot at the ball in front of her feet and watch as you succeed in winning the ball as it goes rolling out of play hitting the advertising boards. As you stand up, mapi pats you on the back. "Good one, now come one 5 minutes left, keep the pace," she said to you, marking up the levante striker in the box. They didnt make it near the keeper as it came rolling out of the goal line and cata was awarded a goal kick however she rolled the ball out to you to cross it over to frido who was on the far side of the pitch. As the ball left your feet you watched as it flew over the players and landed at fridos feet but as she was making her way to the box the final whistle blew and there it was your debut was over. You shook hands with the opposition, then here came the hugs and celebrations from your teamates as they congratulated you. Then it was alexia who walked over to you and wrapped you into a hug "im so proud of you pequeña i really am" she said to you a smile on her face "thank you ale i really appreciate everything you have done for me" you respond as never had you been told that someone was proud of you so you tried to blink away the tears that formed in your eyes.

You made your way back to the changing rooms and jona did a speech congratulating the team and you for your debut and to know that lucy is okay and would miss 2 games due to a minor muscle injury. As you changed back into your tracksuit you wanted to keep your debut shirt but didn't know how to ask so you glanced either side to see if anyone was paying attention to you and you stuffed the shirt into your bag hoping no one saw you. "You ready to go?" alexia asked you "yes definitely im ready for sleep and some food," you said, putting the bag on your back. And that's exactly what happened. You ate dinner with alexia and then clambered into bed after showering because the showers at the ground aren't the best, so you just waited till getting back to the apartment. Then, right as you were drifting off alexia opened the door to your room holding the shirt you had stuffed into your bag "y/n why did i find your shirt in your bag?" She questioned holding the shirt infront of her "oh ermm i must have accidentally put it in there" you responded lying out of your teeth "y/n i know you're lying" she said "ugh sorry i wanted to keep my debut shirt but i didn't know how to ask or who to ask so i just shoved it into my bag im sorry alexia" you responded upset at the fact you probably have disappointed alexia "ohh pequeña its okay but next time ask please but sleep well" she responded and placed the shirt on your nightstand and walked out closing the door and 5 minutes later you drifted off to sleep enjoying a very good day and one to remember.

[guns-and-brimstone]

[ - All in a days work - ]

Guss had been working hard for Prince Stolas for three days now. Contruction had already begun to fortify the outside of the palace by this 'Doomsday Delux' company that the sinner had recomended to them. They seemed to be some kind of contruction company that was started by ex military and survivalists. They apparently specialized in fortification work. The Fort Knox treatment was the full package of what they could provide.

While construction was far from done. It was Pretty clear what the end result would look like. Barbed wire across all fences, Sand bag cover around the frontyard and backyard of the palace in case a firefight was to break out. checkpoints at every entrence, and even guard towers with spotlight for the night shifts.

New cameras had also been installed in all the blind spots near the entrences. And the already existing cameras were soon to be upgraded with a night vision mode. They still had not recived everything that was purchased by overlord Carmilla Carmine. But shipments of requested weaponry and equipment were coming in every day. So everything they needed would soon be here all in good time.

||

Guss had also been training the staff, as was requested from him. However, He treated them more like soldiers. Not security staff. He had them run exercises and drills on a daily basis. And taught them how to properly use and tend to their new weaponry and gear. If he keep going like this, Prince Stolas might just soon have a squad of hellhound super soldiers at his full disposal.

||

When he was not overseeing contruction or training the staff. Guss was doing exactly what he promised the Prince that he Would do. Guarding him and Via. Always staying close to them. Making sure he was the first line of defence should something happen.

Octavia found the sinner to be… a little creepy. To put it politely. He was always there in the background. Heavily armed and watching over them like a statue. To top it all off, His chosen uniform was unsettling to say the least.

Guss wore a heavily enforced flak jacket. That protected him from small arms fire. Which had two ammo belts going across his torso like an X. He also wore a helmet that had a pentagram mark burned in to it. Along with the words 'Fuck peace'

But most unsettling of all. Was the infernal gas mask the sinner wore to cover up his face while on duty. It gave him a very robotic and unnatural voice while he wore it.

||

Today, Octavia was sitting at breakfast eating her favorite cereal. She had actually woken up early to join Stolas for breakfast. Which means she was either in a good mood today. Or she was planning to head out.

Guss was of course Standing in the same room as the two royals. On guard with his assault rifle, As always. From time to time Via would glance up at the sinner with an annoyed expression on her face. She didn’t enjoy having someone watching over her at all times. It felt weird to her.

”Dad… You know i can take care of myself right?…” She huffed suddently. looking over at Stolas as she did so.

@stolas-arsgoetia-rp

[baeddel]

when i was a child i liked combat sports; i took martial arts classes (i forget which form) and i competed in fencing. i had to stop when i went to highschool because we didn't have time for it anymore. after leaving highschool i met a girl who did boxing and i planned to go and sign up at her gym to learn it with her, but i became too ill and it never happened. still, it had reignited my interest in combat sports and i would talk about it with people. i told one guy that i liked the look of Muay Thai; he expressed a common view, which was that martial arts like this sucked, because they were impractical in a real fight. he liked Krav Maga because it was real.

[long-ish post about fighting]

and i always objected to that kind of thinking! look here: it's true that much of the game which is played on the mat is produced by the restrictions placed on combatants. even in a very permissive sport like MMA, the great importance of ground fighting to that sport is produced by the restriction on fish-hooks and head kicks. thus, you can say that even these fights 'aren't real' in some sense. but how often are you ever going to be in a fight where you're willing to rip the other guy's cheek out, gouge out his eyes and so forth? Krav Maga was first developed for Jews to defend themselves from anti-semitic mobs in the 1930s. i know that some of you have certainly been in fights like that; but not all fights are that existentially serious. even in fights where there is such a high level of emnity there are often factors which restrain the fight from becoming an existential one. if you live somewhere that fascists are embedded and you blind one of theirs in a fight you might expect retribution; likewise you would be guilty of a felony and might get in real trouble. apprehensions like this might stay your hand—and already you are engaging in a kind of combat which is to some extent governed by extra-martial rules that produce a to some extent artificial situation.

of course, some martial arts will be more useful to know in the kind of combat games you are likely to play even so, and Muay Thai has not suddenly become more useful than Krav Maga on the basis of what i said. but i think that it is common to 1. underestimate the usefulness of even highly artifical combat sports, like fencing, and 2. overstate the utility of various 'self-defence' techniques, especially blinding, because the artificial, rules-governed nature of real fights is forgotten.

on point one, i would always credit my fencing experience with my success at fighting in highschool. i would sometimes even adopt the pose—one hand back, foot pointed forward—and people would (jokingly) say, 'it's [her] style! [she's] the fencer!' this part was not really useful; these fights were between friends and featured no emnity; we wanted to entertain the crowd, so there was a certain amount of kayfabe. but we were teenagers and behaved badly; once blows began we really hurt each other, and i even sent a few kids to the hospital (one with a concussion and the other with a wounded leg). plus, secret feelings of jealousy and resentment could be awakened during the course of the fight, so more emnity was felt as the fight grew more serious. what i thought really helped me from all the fencing matches was simply the sparring experience. when another living person attacks you without relenting, watches your movements for openings, and tries to stop whatever you do to them, it's difficult not to be overwhelmed and confused. being able to keep a level head, comprehend the situation and make decisions in the moment gave me an advantage over less experienced friends.

on the second point, i had older male friends who gave me a lot of advice that i can now recognize was plainly bad advice. for example, a girl i had a crush on had an older brother who always gave me and her other friends a hard time. i hated him so much i wanted to do something about him. so my friend told me that when fighting a larger and stronger opponent, i should do this... and this... a lot of techniques that had i really gone and done it would have left him permanently blind and disfigured. how do you think my crush would have felt if i went and did all that to her brother? these 'real' street fighting techniques were not useful in a real fight—a fight with stakes proportional to my real situation. when i did end up in situations with existential stakes (you know the stories) these techniques did nothing for me, since i would be alone against multiple attackers, or the other guy had frightening connections, or there was an asymmetry of power (who teaches 'defense against a guy in a car'?). in all cases the only wothwhile advice i ever got was this: you cannot run away in high heels.

similarly, when we had our low-stakes fights at school, the crowd would call out for me to punch the other guy in the face, or to kick him when he was down. afterwards they were disappointed that i didn't 'really go for him.' all this kind of talk really got to me; i would be standing there, facing my opponent and saying to myself, 'do it! do it!' in the end i never punched anyone in the face or tried any kind of dirty fighting at all. for this i hated myself so much. i was furious with myself; i would sit down and be angry at myself for a long time. i considered myself a coward and a weakling because i wouldn't go 'all in.' i didn't 'have the guts.' actually, what i felt was compassion for another person, and it was not a contemptable restraint at all. what was i trying to do—what was i trying to become? i think this is a way you can be misled by the discourse around 'real fighting.'

[sanest-bsd-delegate]

───BY THE BOOKSTORE

🗝Pairing: Dazai Osamu x fem!reader

🗝A/N: It was actually a request made by someone on wattpad teehee. p.s if u have the same hair colour as Dazai then no, you don't :D /j just think u have ur hair highlighted or smhtg.

→Masterlist

You step through the bookstore's door, and immediately, the aroma of well-worn pages and ink wraps around you like a familiar embrace. The shelves stand tall, an array of literary possibilities awaiting your exploration. Hushed conversations and the occasional creak of the wooden floor provide a soothing backdrop.

"Mom, bowk" You 2 year old daughter yelled in glee, as she insisted you put her down so that she could hold your hand. It was nothing much, you worked as a kindergarten teacher at your daughter's school, and often worked as a part-time job at a local flower job. Your life might have been tough, but seeing your own daughter made you think maybe, just maybe you could be the mother you always wanted for your daughter.

"Come on darling, this way" You said, as you and your daughter walked towards the children section, your daughter running towards the kids play area

"I am so glad this store has play area for toddlers" You said to yourself, as you place your daughter inside the area, surrounded by soft fencing and toys.

"Mum look" Your daughter said, as she pointed her hair and then proceeded to point it at a person, who you never thought you would see, "Same" your daughter continued before she walked towards other kids and started talking to them.

Your daughter was a mixture of you and him. E/C eyes and brown hair. She always got excited whenever someone had a same hair colour as her, considering most people where blackheaded or had coloured hair in your area.

Your eyes wanders towards the person who was walking towards you, your gaze remained steely, as your arms crossed protectively over your chest. "What brings you here after all these years, Dazai?"

Dazai Osamu. The father of your daughter, your lover and a person who left you without a word. Why did he has to appear now? Couldn't he disappear forever? Why was he so handsome?

Dazai hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Fate, perhaps. Or a desire to find something I've been missing."

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by his response. "Cut the poetic nonsense, Dazai. What do you want?"

Dazai took a deep breath, unable to speak in front of you. Something about you changed, and maybe it was his fault. "I heard about a little bookstore, in Yokohama. I never expected to find you here. And..." he paused, his gaze softening, as his eyes wander the brown hair toddler at the play area. He was sceptical when he saw you dropping a child in a play area, wondering if it was someone your own or that you were babysitting, but seeing the child call you mom and point towards him made him realise, "I never expected to find our daughter."

Your eyes widened in shock, your defences momentarily breaking down. He figured it out? How did he see them-? "What are you talking about?"

Dazai's expression shifted, revealing a vulnerability rarely seen. "I didn't know, Y/N. I had no idea we had a child. Why didn't you tell me? We could have worked out and raised her.....But now that I do," his voice softened, "I want to be a part of her life."

The revelation hung in the air, a heavy truth that neither of you could escape. The bookstore seemed to shrink around you and you didn't wanted to interact with the man any further.

"You want to be a part of her life? After disappearing without a trace, leaving me to raise our child alone? You say we could have worked out, HOW could we Dazai? You disappeared"

Dazai winced at the accusation, but he looked at you with a sincere gaze. "I was lost, Y/N. I didn't think I could give you the life you deserved. But seeing you now, seeing her, I realize I was wrong."

Your fists clenched at your sides. "You have no right to waltz back into our lives and play the caring father. You abandoned me, you abandoned us"

Dazai took a step closer, his expression pleading. "I can't change the past, but I want to be there for her now. I want to make amends."

You scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping your mouth "Amends? Do you think a few words can erase the years of struggle, the tears shed, and the nights I spent wondering if you were even alive?"

Dazai's gaze dropped, remorse etched on his face. "I know I can't undo the pain I caused, but I'm willing to try."

you shook your head, your anger still floating, "I don't want your attempts at redemption. We managed without you, and we'll continue to do so."

Dazai took a deep breath, his resolve strengthening. "Y/N, I may have been a fool, but I want to be there for our daughter. I want to be the father I should have been from the start."

Your eyes softened for a moment, a flicker of doubt crossing yours features. You looked away, struggling with your emotions. Did he really want that? What he sincere enough to convince you? He left once, he would do it again you thought, but what if?

Dazai continued, taking your hands in his own, "I've spent my life avoiding attachments, thinking they would only bring pain. But seeing the two of you, I realize I've been running from something I created."

"And what is that, Dazai?"

Dazai's voice was steady, unlike his usual whimsical tone. "A family. I want a chance to be a part of our daughter's life, to make up for the time I lost."

"You can't just waltz back into our lives and expect everything to be forgiven and forgotten."

Dazai nodded solemnly. "I know. I'm not asking for forgiveness, at least not immediately. I'm asking for a chance to prove that I can be the father she deserves." Dazai left your hands, the warmth your hand felt once slipped through your fingers again, "Think about it Y/N" and with that Dazai started walking at the exit, not looking back.

You stare at your hand which had a piece of paper, a number, before you hear your daughter yell, "Mum"

You turn around before taking your daughter in your arms as she pointed out towards Dazai's walking figure, "Mw Dwzai"

"Its bad to point at people," You said, using your hand to lower your daughter's pointed finger, as your eyes wander at the exit, the figure long gone, "Especially bad to associated yourself with a stranger's name without meeting them"

TAGLIST: @averagehisoilluenjoyer @high-on-dazai @ruru-kiss @kissesmellow21 @just2normalperson

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