#and can hold her own against larger opponents

[sunday-arch]

nina has weapons concealed on her person at all times. once i can, i’ll come back to this post to innumerate some of her common ones. but, they’re often well concealed and highly lethal. there are a couple obvious ones but. don’t ever assume because you confiscated those, she doesn’t have anything else.

[signedkoko]

Hi hi!

How would Striker, Bee, and poly Stolitz (romantic) react to their chubby s/o being very physically strong and working out a lot?

No pressure to write this, and If you don't write for this many characters, you can choose who to focus on!

Sending lots of love your way 💚💛💙

-🐻

Beelzebub | Blitzo & Stolas | Striker [Romantic]

In which you are considerably physically stronger than them, and work out plenty to match.

Naturally, all of the sins are extremely strong in comparison to any overlord or sinner

Even so, you were surprisingly up there, without her magic Beelzebub couldn't begin to carry half the weight you did, and usually had to resort to her larger form- or just asking for your help

It's part of why she found you so attractive, it felt like in some way you could protect her more than anyone she knew

A lot of the people around her were already small, so it was also nice that you compared to her in size, though she found you to be much more curvaceous than her own lanky figure

" Ugh. I'd kill for hips like these, babe. "

She loves to feel you up and down and hold you close because god, you are just sooo comfortable

And when you flex your muscles it drives her crazy! She thinks you're the hottest person she's ever met

She also may be partially to blame for your chubbiness, because she never stops feeding you sweets, oops!

Both of these fools are physically WEAK, however strong they might be with guns or magic

They recall their first encounter with you was when someone was making fun of Stolas for dating an imp, and you totally rocked their shit with a punch straight to the face

Blitzo is already on you, asking so many questions about who you were, why you did that, making jokes

And Stolas has a faint blush because god, that was so attractive

They kept inviting you over until eventually you were closer than most- present on every date, called by the same sweet nicknames

Stolas likes to go with you when you work out, he especially loves to see you boxing

Being able to cheer you on against an opponent, or imagine you protecting him- oh it was just so exciting

Blitzo enjoys walking around hell with you because he gets to see everyone fuck off

Scary dog privileges

Stolas is always squishing your cheeks and hugging you tightly while speaking of all his fantasies involving you both

Blitzo is sneaking pictures of you after workouts for his office

Stronger? Than him? Sure thing

Striker first heard it at a place he frequented for drinks, that there was a guard for hire poster put up on their bulletin, someone new

When he hired you to see what'd happen, you sweeped the floor of some royals security team in minutes, and all he had to do was pull the trigger

Admittedly, he didn't feel the need to work with you more than that, as he enjoyed the hunt as much as the kill

But it was certainly fun seeing what someone else pulled

He’s straightforward about that, but also admits that he'd like to keep in touch

OBVIOUSLY so he can hire you on tougher missions, not because he thought you were interesting or fun

Suddenly, he's always popping up in the places you go, always offering you a drink, always getting tipsy enough to invite you to dance

Oh yeah, he certainly wants you

Fortunately for him, you're his lovely significant other only a few weeks later

He enjoys practising sparing with you, though he usually loses with just strength to strength, hsi wits certainly make him a tougher opponent

Striker find your resolve fiery, and something about you ignites something in him that leaves him wanting more

Author's Note - Actually love these guys sm... good crew you chose bear non I respect it!

Also I CATCH all the love you sent my way and EAT IT 🖤

[tarithenurse]

Pirate's bounty

Fandom: MCU AU Pairing/starring: 1st mate!Bucky x Pirate princess!reader Word count: 1500 Content: Sparring, smut (oral, fem receiving). A/N: Oh...what’s this? Something fandom related?? Oops!

One night, as her friends are resting and the ship is quiet beneath the stars, she notices Bucky spying on her from the stairs – just his head poking up over the last step, door slightly ajar the way she’d left it.

“I see you,” she says, not bothering to stop the flow of movements.

A bit sheepishly, he steps out on deck. “Need a sparring partner?”

Stopping, [Y/N] considers what sort of opponent he’d be. “I’m afraid, I’d be no match for you.”

Rather than accepting her answer, he steps up and pulls out a vicious looking dagger from his belt – his great sword having been left behind in the cabin below deck. Taking the challenge, [Y/N] puts her rapier aside and draws her own daggers. Both.

They circle each other slowly at first before Bucky lunges with a straight slash towards [Y/N]’s shoulder. It’s easy to dodge and she suspects it was more to test her reflexes than to count for a strike.

Next time he strikes, she pivots around and manages to tap one of her daggers against his chest even as his free hand comes to block her.

“0-1,” the man admits.

As the larger person, he has the benefit of superior strength and he uses it to the best of his abilities but his target is small and nimble with excellent technique and so it is only in their third bout that he manages to score a point by grabbing hold of [Y/N] with one hand and yanking her backward against his chest as she was spinning away from his first attack.

“2-1,” she relents, waiting for him to release her. When he doesn’t let go, she wiggles in his grasp. “I said, you win that one.”

“I know,” he hums. But still holds her tight.

Listening for a moment to the sound of the waves and their breathing, [Y/N] considers if she’s missed something beside his plan that won him the bout but there’s nothing.

“Then let go.”

“Free yourself,” Bucky counters. “What would you do if an enemy had you in a hold like this?”

She considers it. He’s shifted the hold from grabbing the scruff of her shirt to being wrapped around her chest. His dagger is in his right hand but at a relatively safe distance. Slowly sheathing her own weapons (for the sake of safety), she formulates a plan: step on his toes, “stab” him with the left hand’s weapon which they’ll pretend [Y/N]’s still holding, while preparing to block with the right hand.

Carrying it out is like ramming face first into a stone wall: no effect other than a grunt when her heel crunches down on Bucky’s toe.

“You gotta do better than that. An enemy wouldn’t let you go so easily,” the large man growls.

She huffs. “An enemy would have been wounded in the thigh.”

“An enemy would be trained to deal with it.”

Squirming, all she manages to is to come face to face with him but try as she might, she can’t break free. [Y/N] sighs, closing her eyes a moment to avoid looking at the serious face of Bucky.

“Fine!” the young woman then hisses, “how am I supposed to do it?”

Slipping his own dagger away, Bucky repositions them and explains how she can use her shorter stature to her advantage, flipping him over so he lands on his back on the deck. It takes a few attempts before she gets it right but suddenly he goes flying over her back and head, landing hard. Quick as a cat, she follows. [Y/N] lands astride on his abdomen while her dagger flashes in the moonlight as she holds it to his throat.

“Perfect,” he hums, large hands on her thighs and the thumbs rubbing softly through the leather.

Confused, the young woman retreats, allowing Bucky to get back up. Even in the dark, she can see his eyes are dark with something she recognizes from when last they were this close – but that shouldn’t be possible. And yet...a memory presses into her mind of how it felt when he kissed her and the urge to try it again blooms within [Y/N] once more.

Bucky is big for a human, yes. Large in stature and musculature and personality. He has a cockiness to him that she hates and admires at the same time. Right now he’s using all of it as he struts towards her, making her back up until her back hits the mast.

“Put the dagger away,” he purrs and dumb as she is, she obeys. “Good girl. Tell me to stop and I will.”

Wrinkling her brows, [Y/N] considers what he means, if he means what she thinks he is implying, and whether she wants it. She doesn’t stop him. Not even as he grabs her by the waist and lifts her onto his thigh. Or when he dibs his head down to carefully brush his lips against hers.

It’s a soft kiss. Slower than the first they shared and it has her whimpering into his mouth by the end of it. An end where she also realizes that she’s holding on to him for dear life.

“Your father would kill me,” Bucky huffs.

“He’s not here,” she insists, out of breath too.

Cupping his jaw, [Y/N] guides his lips back where she wants them, shutting them both up apart from the delicate moans and whimpers that the wind steals away.

While his hands are steadily holding on to her hips, the young woman’s fingers are dancing along his muscles on his shoulders, back, arms, chest – anywhere she can reach – but they still when he rocks her, causing the pressure between her legs to shift and spark something she’s never felt before.

Alarmed, she pulls back, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“It’s alright,” Bucky purrs, “I’ve got you.”

Allowing him to do it again, [Y/N] realizes what she’s feeling, heat rushing to her cheeks invisibly but her understanding is given away by the way her nails dig into his skin at the sensation.

It’s all him at first, gently moving her into a rhythm that causes the need to blossom until she rocks on his thigh on her own volition, chasing the delicious pressure while she clings to his shoulders.

It’s like standing at a precipice, wanting to jump into the void but not daring too, merely toeing the edge. Tense and focused, [Y/N] chases a foreign high and so she pouts when Bucky manhandles her over his shoulder, stopping the sweet pressure of a caress. He carries her to the very bow of the ship, ducking down behind a large coil of rope for the anchor to lay her down.

“Buck-” she starts.

“I’ve got you,” he promises.

Already fumbling with the strings of her trousers, it’s not long before he’s bared her, leaving the clothing tangled around her ankles as if too much in a rush as he kneels there, trapping her feet in place even as he pushes her knees apart. Bending down with a purr, he noses at the remaining fabric, nudging at the sweet spot that’s tender and tingly from rocking against his broad thigh. The man’s hand is big as it slides up her inner thigh, thumb gliding under her underwear, causing her to realize that she’s soaked by something.

“Oh,” she gasps as his thumb swipes through the wetness up to her pearl, circling it slowly and causing intense ripples of need to rush through her.

“I’ve got you,” he promises again.

Kissing the right knee, there’s nothing rushed about Bucky. He just takes his time to pamper her with his hands and lips and tongue, slowly peeling her underwear away to grant him the view of the soaking cunt.

Suddenly [Y/N] is worried. “I’ve never -”

“I know,” he shushes.

Bending down, he licks a broad stripe from her entrance to the pearl, causing her to shudder and gasp. He finishes with circling and flicking, eliciting new ripples of pleasure to wash through the young person. Then he dives in fully, like a man starved he devours her cunt until her back arches and she has to stifle a loud groan by biting into her own hand. The stars above are blurry, blacking out as the delight surges and peaks, stealing her breath away.

Bucky brings her down, gently lapping at her and rubbing soft circles on the hips that he’s held on to to prevent her from bucking too much.

Eventually he stills too. Looks up at her with a satisfied and cocky grin that glistens with her juices.

“Go get some rest,” the large person directs her, “you’ll sleep better now.”

It takes her a moment to figure out her clothes. Even longer to gain control of her legs that feel soft and wobbly, enhancing the roll of the ship. But she does as she’s told, silently cursing herself for allowing this to happen because she knows she’ll want more.

[evita-shelby]

They didn't know we were seeds

Chapter 2

Cw: drug use, mentions of death, trauma, suicide

@justrainandcoffee @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @call-sign-shark

She has never used a knife for anything other than its intended use.

Eva, while luckier than her partner, who hails from the northern region near district two, had never hunted her own food nor worked in a slaughterhouse nor a meat processing plant.

Her family had once been wealthy, owning fertile lands and swamps towards the east until the hurricanes and the droughts forced them further in land towards the desert, where her grandmother lived with Eva’s aunt who lived in the main town.

Her mother and aunt were apothecaries and midwives, her father had been a ranch hand who died when the twister decimated their home and modest wealth when Eva was a baby. Eva’s elder sister had died from childbed fever and her brothers did not survive their reaping.

Alan had died when he volunteered for Gabe when he was 12 only for Gabe to die two years after. Isabel, Eva’s mother, had entrusted Eva to her sister, Olivia, who was now stuck with the burden of another mouth to feed, and never returned when her last remaining child turned twelve a year.

Eva would be different from her brothers and sister and mother and father. Eva will live. Forever if she must.

She excels in foraging, in basic medicine and could keep her own against a weaker opponent. Eva is hopeless in a fight and yet Laurie is there willing to train her just to be close enough to touch her.

To him and the other careers it is a game, an assured victory and not a death sentence. He laughs and cheers her on when she finally proves she can hold her own against someone if need be.

Laurie is sweet when he isn’t showing how deadly he is. He invited her to his table even as the rest of the careers sneered at them for being from a poor district.

His twin brother won his games with a sword in a swamp ghost town where you died of illness or Jack Nelson’s golden handled sword, and he intends to win the same way. He’s taller than his own mentors who praise him for his skills. He is good at everything, just like his twin was.

Their mother had paid a fortune to have the frozen seed of the first career victor, Iacobus, implanted in her and birth them.

His victory was destiny. He says this as he holds her hand under the table.

The hunger games have never had two twins win two games even if plenty of twins have been reaped and killed before. If Laurie wins, he makes history for that.

If Eva wins, she makes history for being district 10’s victor forty-five years after the previous one.

The first male victor was on the 9th games and served as a mentor until he took a revolver to his head after the first Quarter Quell when both tributes chosen were his own niece and nephew. Abilene had been the only mentor they had, and she was less useful than a potted plant.

Their escort, Clemen Whimsiwick, a man with his hair in intricate braids and a penchant for complaining about everything with their stylist as if she were his mother, is only useful because he has the avox spike Abi’s food and put her to bed like a fussy child.

Escorts make good enough money and all you have to do is babysit for two weeks every year, he said high out of his mind when they were coming here on the train. He’s very chatty, especially with the marijuana Eva’s aunt gave him as a bribe in exchange for a few more minutes with her.

And because of that gift and Tigris having the surname Snow, he is amenable to talking strategy with them as he coaches them for the interviews tomorrow night. He suggests alliances with those who might get them to survive day one at least.

“Do you think we can trust the careers?” Dustin Clay, the sandy haired male tribute who’s been working at a slaughterhouse since he was eleven, asks as they come up with their own strategies at dinner that night. He has a larger chance of surviving, his village had very unpredictable weather from dust storms in summer, tornados in spring and snowstorms in winter.

“No. He wants to win; he will forget his crush the moment the bell rings.” Eva shook her head knowing Tigris’ and Clemen’s strategy is bullshit. “Just grab what’s at the edge of the cornucopia and run, it saved Abilene, it could save us.”

“I’m just as good as they are, Evie,” Dustin says using the nickname Laurie gave her this week to show he thinks he is at a Career’s level. “When I win, I’ll make sure your family is taken care of.”

He still had his family and seen her with pity when Clemen learned Eva was all that was left of her immediate family. He thinks he will win because he has more to lose and had scored a nine for dressing the mannequins like it was game.

Eva knows she has a better chance because nothing makes you more dangerous than having nothing left to lose except her life. Even if she only scored a 5 because making medicine from plants is harder than making poison from them.

“You may not win, but at least you have a decent chance of making it into the finals.” Clemen says reminding Dustin that even he cannot beat a career at their own game. “You too, Eve, you might manage to get Nelson to spare you if you show him your tits or whatever distracts him long enough for you to run.”

Do they allow that in the arena? She’s never even heard a swear word on the mandatory watching of the games at home. Everything is somehow squeaky clean even if it’s a massacre that’s being broadcast into everyone’s homes. Even the commercials cannot have anything untoward.

Lucy Gray Baird wore her old red dress for the interviews while Tigris and her friend spent all night fixing the one she was reaped in.

Eva wears a replica of it with a brooch with a singular white rose that matches the one in her hair. She is a beauty, taller than Lucy Gray had been and yet there is something about the two girls that feels as if destiny crafted them of the same mold.

Coriolanus had been given one of grandma’am’s famous roses to give her as a token. He had been so nervous that morning, afraid of it going all wrong.

Dustin has blonde waves like her cousin once had, though darker blond and less gaunt than he had been those days where they were just on the edge of starvation. He almost looks like the boy who died in the districts as she dresses him in an outfit reminiscent of the one Coriolanus wore when he was made Lucy Gray’s mentor.

The tesserae buttons were bought at a building supply store, once those had been a luxury they could never afford to replace and now she had bought a dozen of them for a pittance. She bought so many she put them all around her home from the drawers in her closet to the crystal bowl in the living room.

He will hate her just as she’s learned to hate him, and it will be worth seeing him sweat and squirm when his ghosts come back to haunt him.

But he makes her dress children for their slaughter and said he did it out of love for her, and now she makes her grand finale by showing him how much she hates him for making her complicit in all those children’s deaths.

“Do you sing, Eva?” the tigress asks the girl who hides her nerves well enough to smile and feign attention at those being interviewed. But she sees it, the way her hand dig into the upholstery of the chair and grip if for dear life.

“I couldn’t hold a tune if my life depended on it, ma’am.” The girl shook her head laughing slightly one of her hands releasing its hold on the chair and brushing away the fringe she cut by herself earlier from her forehead. “Clemens said I can just be my charming self and not to tell the Capitol how my family died, they don’t like hearing about sad things like that.”

The girl’s brothers had both been reaped and her sister died of natural causes, it was not seen as television worthy by those in charge while inhumane violence was.

“The shirt was your sister’s, wasn’t’ it?” Tigirs had not seen an image of the dead family, but she knew out of instinct. She still likes to wear her mother’s fur coat for comfort and warmth after all these years.

“It was our mother’s and when she got married, Feli made the embroidery herself because she found it too plain. I was supposed to save it for my own big day, but I knew even then that I’d never see it.” The girl let go of the seat completely now that fear has won and gives up the veneer of confidence.

But she will, Tigris will make sure Eva sees the day she marries even if Coriolanus kills her. She cannot bring both of them home, but she will settle with one.

“Tell them that, not all of us here are devoid of empathy.” Tigris whispers and adds something no one here ever voices where they can be seen or heard, “Not all of us approve of the games.”

Tigris Snow is seventy-two years old when she sees the audience moved to tears for a tribute. Eva doesn’t sing, but she is charming and beautiful and that is enough to move them as she tells them how she only hopes for a quick death.

[dragonologist-writings]

Title: Lessons Learned Fandom: Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous Rating: T Status: One-Shot Main Characters: Knight-Commander Lilith de Marc Additional Notes: Character Backstory, Hurt No Comfort, Harm to Children Word Count: 1.3k Summary: A young Lilith spars with her fellow students and learns a valuable lesson.

read below or here on ao3

The mace is cold and heavy in Lilith’s hands as she lifts it from the training bench, and it takes every ounce of discipline within her to hold back a grimace as she raises the weapon and dutifully takes her position across from her fellow student. She is sparring against Felix today, which is quite unfortunate; at fourteen years of age, he is the oldest in the class and easily the most likely to win in games of brute strength. The other students stand against the far wall, watching and waiting their turns, and Lilith cannot help but wish that one of them had been chosen for this first match.

It is not the sparring itself Lilith minds. She’s adept at fighting, when she is allowed to be. But her strength comes from magic, from cunning. Straightforward weaponry has never been her strongest skill, and the blunt, brutal maces favored by the Asmodean Church seem especially inelegant in her hands. Her preferences matter little, of course; Inquisitors must use weapons, and if she is to be one, she must learn.

Instructor Brigia watches impassively as the two combatants fall into place. Outside of the training grounds, she wears the typical uniform of the Inquisitors: dark robes paired with masks of iron. The mask is intended to be a means of intimidation, but the removal of it does little to make her expression more inviting. She has never observed their sparring sessions before; she never bothered, not when they were young.

But now this class has ascended to the upper ranks. Now, they are worthy of higher notice. Lilith tightens her grip on her weapon and resolves to prove herself, no matter her disadvantage.

Instructor Brigia is silent as she watches her students prepare, and when they are ready, she gives a stiff nod and a single word. “Begin.”

Naturally, Felix is the one to make the first move. He charges in without hesitation, and Lilith is immediately forced into a defensive position as she dodges his persistent blows.

The fight is sickeningly short. Lilith’s mace is knocked from her hands with a blow that leaves her fingers stinging, and by the time she regains her footing, Felix is already looming over her, his own weapon paused mid-swing, hovering inches from Lilith’s chest.

Humiliation burns within Lilith as the moment stretches out. The Instructor should be calling the match in Felix’s favor now that she’s been disarmed, but no such call comes. Is she being made an example of? Will her failure be held out before the other students, that they may learn from her misstep? It would not be the first time.

She can only wait, stewing in her defeat, until Felix finally wavers and glances to the Instructor.

Instructor Brigia gives no indication that anything is amiss. Stone-faced as ever, she tilts her heads and prompts, “Well?”

Another moment of silent confusion passes, and she releases a low sigh. She nods toward Lilith and says, “Finish the fight. Incapacitate your opponent.”

Lilith understands immediately, and the embarrassment and frustration within her sharpens into cold fear.

She was right. She is to be made an example of.

Felix takes longer to catch on. “I…I already won, Instructor.”

“You have won nothing yet. Incapacitate your opponent.” Instructor Brigia’s gaze flickers from Felix, to Lilith, to Felix again. “We have healers in the temple if needed. Do not make me repeat myself again.”

Somehow Felix still isn't able to grasp her words, but his idiocy is Lilith’s gain. He is still looking at the Instructor when she strikes, bare-handed but strengthened by the type of resolve which is only borne from panic. She barely fazes the much larger student, but she does manage to grab hold of his arm, and she knows her only option is to wrest the weapon from his grip.

Even with the element of surprise, however, Lilith is still a head shorter than her opponent. He takes hold of her by the back of her robes and throws her to the ground, and this time, there is no hesitation when he comes at her with his mace.

Lilith has a split second to decide what to do- and she decides that she will not simply lie here and make herself an easy target. Rules be damned.

She lifts her hands to meet Felix’s assault, her palms already full of fire pulled straight from her veins. He screams as the magic makes contact and the scent of burning flesh fills the air; even as he swings blindly in retaliation, Lilith refuses to relent. With the burns spreading up his arms he has no chance of aiming well, and his frantic attacks catch not Lilith's head, but rather her right hand. This is infinitely preferable, but the attack still slashes her palm open and wrenches her fingers back with the force of the blow. Lilith ignores the bust of pain and brings her other hand back around, delivering a ball of fire with it, and Felix screams again as he is thrown back by the force.

The other students are shouting now, their voices mixing with Felix's screams. Lilith staggers back up to her feet, just in time for Instructor Brigia’s voice to cut coldly through the chaos.

“Stand down.”

Silence falls. The Instructor approaches Felix’s fallen form and leans down to inspect him, the barest hint of disappointment crossing her features. “A paltry performance, but we don’t wish to damage him beyond repair, do we? Somebody escort this one to the infirmary. And as for you…”

Instructor Brigia leaves Felix behind and approaches Lilith, who automatically straightens her back to stand at attention. Blood drips from her hand, but she doesn’t move from her position as she braces herself for admonishment. She broke the rules, and there is nothing more important here than the rules-

“Good work.”

A shocked breath of relief escapes Lilith’s lips, but before she can say anything, Instructor Brigia has taken hold of her shoulder and steered her to face the other students. “I hope the rest of you were paying attention. You are students now, but one day soon, you will be fighting in the real world. In the real world, there can be no hesitation. The heretics you face will take any opportunity to turn against you. Do not give them the chance. You have all been deemed worthy of advancement in our ranks, and that means that you should be able now to apply this lesson in your training…just as Lilith has.”

Pride swells in Lilith’s chest at the praise, even as her fear-fueled adrenaline fades and the throbbing in her hand suddenly threatens to overwhelm her. She bites back a gasp, though she must not be entirely successful, for Instructor Brigia glances down at her. The Instructor holds out her own hand in silent command, and Lilith forces herself not to flinch as she offers up her injury.

The healing is almost as painful as the attack. Lilith’s skin seethes as it stitches itself together, and the bones of her fingers twitch and crack as the Instructor forces their mending. When she is done, however, Lilith’s hand is good as new...save for two of her fingers, which remain painfully bent and crooked.

Lilith bites down hard on her tongue to prevent a whimper from slipping out as Instructor Brigia brushes a thumb against the fingers. In a thoughtful voice, she says, “These will be treated tomorrow. That means twenty-four hours from now and not a second sooner. Let it be a lesson to improve your melee skills. You may have won, but it was a sloppy victory, and there is no pride in that. The next time you spar, I expect to see a refined technique. Understood?”

Lilith nods and slowly withdraws, every fiber of her resolve focused on keeping the shakiness out of her hands and her voice. “Understood, Instructor. I will not fail.”

[blowflyfag]

WORLD WRESTLING FEDERATION MAGAZINE : APRIL 2001

The Deadliest Diva 

Are the Women of the Federation Ducking Jacqueline? 

By Brian Soloman

Transcript Below!!!

Today, more than ever in the World Wrestling Federation, women are able to hold their own in what was previously a man’s game. The current roster of Divas contains females who are more than capable of keeping pace with the male Superstars. It’s clear, however, that some are tougher than others. In the case of Jaqueline, it’s entirely possible that she may be too tough for her own good. 

Most serious observers of the mat game consider Jacqueline to be one of the most gifted female competitors around. Her skills and experience give her a clear in-ring advantage among the other Divas. Yet when it comes to getting airtime on Federation programming, or a slot in important matches, it seems that she’s often passed over in favor of Lita, Trish Stratus, Ivory or others. Why does this happen? To longtime fans of the mat wars, the answer is simple: When it comes to stepping in the ring, Jackie sends the other girls running for cover.

Whenever she has been featured on Raw is War, Smackdown! Or Sunday Night Heat, she has succeeded in putting on a memorable match and made a solid showing. Nevertheless, her TV exposure remains limited. It’s entirely possible that those she’s faced in the past–who have either lost to her or won by a narrow margin–had such a rough time that they thought twice about locking up with her again. When’s the last time you saw her engage in an ongoing series of matches with a single opponent? There doesn’t seem to be anyone willing to test her own skills against Jackie’s for an extended period of time. 

“I’m a two-time Women’s Champion, and I would like to move up,” she says. “I wouldn’t mind competing with light-heavyweight guys, like Chyna does. I’m not ego-tripping or anything but right now I don’t have enough competition.” 

Indeed, Jacqueline spent the better part of her early career tangling almost exclusively with men, simply because most women were too intimidated to face off with her. On occasion, she has done the same thing in the Federation. For instance, she challenged Dean Malenko for the Light Heavyweight Championship last year. Perhaps she feels that competing against men is her only resort due to the shortage of women willing to step up to the plate.

When she comes up with the loser’s share of the purse, Jacqueline takes it to the limit. Most of her losses can be regarded as flukes. For example, her loss of the Women’s Championship to Stephaine McMahon-Helmsley a year ago was not for the lack of wrestling skill. Jackie had mattered well in hand against the inexperienced Stephanie, but outside interference from then D-Generation X member Tori was too much to overcome. It’s obvious that most of her rivals feel that those kinds of tactics are needed to beat her. 

“I don’t want to knock the women,” Jackie is quick to point out. “The females of the World Wrestling Federation are excellent athletes. I just want to take it to another level. Until they can find more women who can wrestle my style, let me wrestle guys.”

Each Diva has her own distinct style. Lita employs aerial attack. Trish Stratus and The Kat are more from the cat-fighting, hair pulling school of women’s wrestling. But when it comes to flat-out brawling and taking it to the mat, Jacqueline brings as much intensity and skill to the table as any of the larger male Superstars. In fact, Jacqueline was trained entirely by men in preparation for her in-ring career.

However, Jackie’s not the only Diva who prefers squaring off against men. If there’s one woman in the Federation who most certainly is not ducking anyone is the Ninth Wonder of the World, Chyna. More than any woman in sports-entertainment history, Chyna has held her own against male opponents. In fact, she competes almost exclusively against men, and she was the first female to capture any men’s title when she won the Intercontinental Championship. Yet to date, Jacqueline and Chyna have never met one-on-one in the squared circle. It’s the one piece missing from the puzzle. 

“There’s a height difference between Chyna and I,” Jackie points out. “But I have wrestled guys well over 200 pounds. I think we could go out there and have a h@ll of a match. I think the people would love it. You’d have to put that on pay-per-view.”

The glaring size difference is probably one of the reasons Jacqueline and Chyna have never been matched up. After all, Jackie is one of the smallest competitors on the Federation roster. But as she points out, those who have Underestimated her have paid the price in the past.

The Chyna-issue notwithstanding, the fact remains that Jacqueline has yet to reach her potential as a Federation competitor. Something must happen to shake Federation officials out of their complacency so that she can achieve the recognition she deserves. Few female grapplers in recent history have put together such a lethal combination of beauty and toughness. Though she’s twice achieved Women’s Championship status in today’s Federation there’s so much more for her to accomplish. It’s clear that she’s capable of just about anything, if given a chance.

“I think all the Divas are sexy in their own way,” she says. “But I think people look at me as more of an athlete. I think that’s what sets me apart from the other Divas. I can be sexy too–when I want to. But I’m more versatile than the other girls. I can do it all.”

Jacqueline’s Keys to Victory

Her masterful ring skills give Jacqueline an enviable edge between the ropes. She has proven that she has what it takes to beat any of the Divas on any given night. We at World Wrestling Federation Magazine have analyzed the ring strategies of some of the game’s most dangerous females, and come up with our own suggestions on what Jackie needs to do to get the 1-2-3.

Chyna 

The Ninth wonder of the World would present Jackie with her toughest challenge. Strength and size go to Chyna, but Jackie is a wily veteran with a clear advantage in experience. She would have to avoid going toe-to-toe, and instead must stick and move, focusing on the legs of her opponent. Jackie’s speed would be her greatest asset.

Lita

No one compares to Lita in terms of aerial ability. Jacqueline would have to keep the high-flyer grounded as much as possible. Once on the mat, Lita would be no match for Jackie’s scientific skills and sheer brawling power. Most importantly, she can’t given Lita a second to breathe. 

The Kat

The styles of Jackie and The Kat could not be more different. The Kat may enjoy an advantage in quickness, but that quickness would be of no use against a well-executed power assault from Jackie. She would need to overpower The Kat, and rely on strength more than technique. 

Ivory

Of all the women, Ivory is the only one with experience rivaling Jackie’s. She would anticipate Jackie’s every move. Psychology would have to be Jacqueline’s primary weapon. She would be best served by employing stall tactics and mind games until Ivory lets her guard down. Once she finds an opening, Hackie could move in for the kill. 

Trish Stratus

Recently, Trish has outsmarted Jackie in mixed tag-team matches, using distraction to pin her. A level head would be essential for Jackie to deflect Trish’s psychological edge. Then, Jackie’s experience and athletic advantages could take over. In straight one-to-one combat, the Canadian Diva wouldn’t even stand a chance. 

Molly Holly 

Molly’s edge could be summed up in one word: conditioning. What she lacks in experience, she makes up for in determination, so Jackie would have to formulate a single-minded strategy. She would need to focus on a specific body part, to cripple Molly in some way and take the wind out of her sails.

[rriavian]

Part 2 of this post from an ask from @altair214. So. Battle tactics! I must also add a disclaimer that I’ve never read the art of war, but it fits and so I’m gonna quote it. Also this got very long, as always, and I have to admit I feel a little arrogant for writing meta about my own fic. But! Hopefully will be an interesting read <3 

I've realised that I mainly use differing combinations of three specific tactics when I write. So in terms of the accidental alignment of my writing to Dream’s comic brand of subtle manipulation we have the following:

Manipulate what your enemy views as orthodox and unorthodox behaviours. By feigning orthodox behaviour, you set your opponent up for attack through unorthodox action. Eg. Appear weak when you are strong.

I’m a fan of subversion. I like unconventional ways of approaching things. I’ve always been fascinated by how a comparatively smaller action can have a lot more weight than a larger one depending on how it’s framed.

Like one TV show might have a dozen or so sex scenes that make you yawn, but another has one person holding another’s hand and you just about die because it’s so powerful.

One of the reasons why I love Dream is because he's a character that is so often the opposite of what is expected. He’ll let someone’s assumptions of him act against them, play into them to a certain extent. It’s applicable to what vulnerability means to him too. Weirdly it’s more accurate to say that when Dream seems vulnerable it’s someone else that is actually in trouble. Prime example is him meeting with Lucifer in hell, Dream is not at all bothered by the disrespect of the exchange because he’s secure enough in himself not to be, and he’s more than willing to take advantage of the view to achieve victory.

I saw something recently about how Dream could have chosen to make himself taller in this fight, but doing so would have been akin to a kitten puffing their fur to seem more threatening.

Lucifer would have loved it.

Dream didn't need to do it here, but I think he would have if he'd gone into hell at full power and wanted to seem weak...again, that subversion I love mixed with the unorthodox/orthodox actions. The example you used of the question asked by Odin and Dream’s response is such a perfect illustration of this. Dream is not going to let someone else cheat so easily by telling them what he is.

Or giving them a hint at how they should see him.

It’s not something reserved for enemies either. He has a moment with Lucienne where she’s upset and hurt by what she sees as her work being dismissed, and it could be argued Dream leans into what contrition is expected to look like. It’s the most overt display of ‘oops’ we’ve ever really seen in Dream, his solemn mannerisms put aside for the moment. Not because he’s lying, not that he isn’t regretful that he hurt her, but because he is willing to use her view of behaviour to ensure his response translates properly. He uses that perception to make his feelings visible, to put them in the context that is most accessible to her.

You could say he does similar with Johanna when she mentions Burgess, though I don’t think he alters his behaviour here, just lets her respond to it. Then when Hob accuses him of loneliness Dream does absolutely nothing to hide how nope he is about that. And while it might seem like it breaks my theory on vulnerability because of how extreme a reaction it was, what Hob said was actually an equally extreme insult.

And Dream’s reaction to it resulted in Hob running after him, displaying his own desperate vulnerability, panicked at losing the only constant in his immortal life. Perhaps at having the gift itself revoked.

And he's lured to it because the power in that interaction very much remains with Dream.

While Hob clearly spends time ruminating over that meeting, Dream is very interestingly nonchalant the one time we see him reminded of it, in the scene when Death asks if he’s going to see Hob. There's more to say on this but I will skip to the end of my thought. I bet that if Dream hadn’t been caught by Burgess he’d have turned up to their meeting 100 years later and gotten an apology. Or skipped that meeting just to prove his point.

To secure ourselves against defeat lies in our own hands, but the opportunity of defeating the enemy is provided by the enemy himself.

Your analysis of Dream making a deal with Loki aligns with this. It seems to me that Dream used this idea in a very unorthodox way to get what he wanted, knowing Loki as he did, and predicting that he’d kidnap Daniel as a way to force Dream to waste his debt. Loki thinks he’s been given the tool to defeat Dream, thinks he’s the one acting in a way that’s unorthodox, but he’s completely misunderstood what victory even is for Dream. He doesn’t actually know what Dream wants. As Odin highlights, it’s unclear whether Dream is victim or manipulator, and this inability for anyone to really know what they are fighting and what his motives are makes Dream so difficult to attack.

In reverse Dream is astounding good at getting the measure of people and using their in character actions for his own ends without even manipulating their behaviour.

In canon he knows Rose will draw the arcana together, knows her search for her brother will lead him where he needs to go. And he's secure enough in his assessment of the threat she poses to let things continue. So in Baiting the Trap Dream uses everything he knows the Corinthian is to assure his victory, achieves it just by letting the Corinthian do his own unhinged thing. As you said, Dream knew right from the start that he was going to win.

The only way the Corinthian could have won is if he stopped being himself.

That’s how Dream fights his enemies – he tailors your defeat to be a road you will always walk. He finds your fatal flaw, your hamartia, and he makes defeat inevitable. Dream gets you to choose it. Again, bringing this back to my point about Orpheus, Dream seems to ultimately arrange this very same thing for himself. He uses his own fatal flaw, his own unavoidable prophesy, and engineers both his defeat and his rebirth.

The most effective trap is always the one you don’t see coming until it’s far too late. The one you only see at all because the victor has allowed you to know you’ve lost. But it’s also one you willingly walk into, even fight to walk into.

A large group striking a small group is not held in high esteem, but a small group striking a larger force is.

There are canon examples of this—such as Dream’s way of dealing with Rose, and his missing creations—but I’m going to focus on BTT so this doesn’t get too long. This point really explains why I’ve always presented the Corinthian’s desire to provoke an extreme reaction as a way to get Dream to show weakness. It’s also why Sweetening the Deal had to be what it is.

It’s essentially point 3 in sex form.

It isn’t strength to throw all your power around when you don’t need to. There’s no achievement, no satisfaction, to be found in defeating a far weaker opponent. It’s why Dream is so expectant of victory, why he takes it as just a matter of course, takes pleasure from it for sure but doesn’t act like it was difficult. He plays fair enough to still brag a little though, handicaps himself enough that it's satisfying, because Dream and the Corinthian are both approaching their relationship with exactly the right assessment of their enemy.

They use exactly the right tactic to match what they are up against.

In the show the Corinthian doesn’t engage at all until he has too. In my series he's finally is forced to engage, goaded to it, thinks he’s facing destruction anyway, and his method of brute force/going all in against Dream is exactly what he’s supposed to do to fight something so powerful. Dream’s relatively measured response—his tendency for non-engagement, his avoidance of a fight—is exactly what you’re supposed to do when fighting something weaker. The Corinthian is so incensed by it because Dream’s tactics prove inequality, prove what he’s being assessed as, and he’s trying to goad him into fighting/engaging with him as an equal.

Trying to find a weapon that will make Dream treat him as such.

The series spun out from a canon divergent idea of what would happen if Dream decided to engage in the way of ‘I will give you exactly what you want and you’ll still lose’. And that's so frustrating to the Corinthian because on the surface it looks like surrender. But it’s an enemy that surrenders at full strength—lays down all arms and smirks at you across the field—undermining the strength of the assault by rendering it meaningless, revoking the right to really test it for real because they won’t let you try and beat them. Won’t let you prove that you can.

So Dream, in a lot of ways, actually flips the dynamic by presenting what he fights back with as the weaker force and taking the 'prestige' out of the Corinthian's victories. It’s why the Corinthian likes to stage/arrange a bit of a fight. Imagine a struggle. And it’s why Dream likes to get him to ask for what he wants (ask when the Corinthian wants to just take) and is very strategic with when and how he indulges him in the staged/arranged fight.

Previously I mentioned vulnerability and this adds another layer to that. When you fight against something so much weaker than yourself with full force it looks like fear. It looks like vulnerability. Perhaps incompetence. Inefficiency. It’s insecure. It’s what you do when you’re not sure you can win, unwilling to risk a test of more even footing, overwhelming with numbers rather than skill. You punish a threat that way.

It lets an enemy know they’ve made you flinch.

(Though I must also add that if you wanted an enemy to think you were scared coming at them full force would be a good way to do it.)

Dream is very obviously goading the Corinthian into positions where it's easy to make this mistake while effortlessly holding back from doing it himself. He is always tempting him to leap at the chance for guaranteed victory—in the first fic, then in the binding etc—luring him with a display of vulnerability in the throne room. Getting him to try and strike when Dream seemed emotionally unstable. But also very powerful, luring with the prestige of what it would be for a smaller force to overtake his larger one, revealing just what a prize there is on offer.

The Corinthian has been learning the balance throughout the whole series. He is still going all in but not being stupid about it, not pulling his punches but definitely not wanting to give the impression of a lack of skill. Assessing what Dream is setting the board with and what level of strength is required from his own responses. I could have written the Corinthian doing the most nasty fucked up sexual stuff to Dream—he definitely indulges but for all my work is explicit I remember being like ‘is this too vanilla for them?’—but for me it would have overplayed the Corinthian’s hand. Overplayed determination and intellect into desperation. I didn’t want to take the power out of what I was writing.

Guess I’m using these battle tactics on my readers too haha because I definitely manipulate the view of unorthodox/orthodox behaviours. I will layer them in different ways, weight an encounter differently depending on how I'd like it to feel. As I said earlier…I’m a fan of subversion. And I will usually write something in exactly the opposite way of what’s expected.

The binding circle was the culmination of the first ‘arc’ of the series and it’s essentially a combination of all three of these different tactics. An unorthodox action, strength shown as weakness, Dream seemingly handing the Corinthian the means to beat him, allowing him the chance to attack him from a position of strength.

It evened the field yes. But it's also an example of when Dream presents himself as a 'weaker' force.

It made the Corinthian the larger army in a position to strike at a smaller one. The Corinthian realised that and didn’t attack with overwhelming force. He very much indulged but he was still strategic. He could have done some very nasty things to Dream in that binding circle (believe me I had a lot of imaginative ideas). It’s all about balance and flow for me, where my gut tells me the equilibrium needs to be. And there’s loads of character quirks on both sides that balance that.

(Especially since these little 'battles' are essentially a love language as much as a power struggle)

So the series is shifting the Corinthian to a more measured approach. Fun little skirmishes. Enjoying the game of it…the stages of the battle. In a way, Dream is very much teaching the Corinthian to play by the same principles I use to write, to play chess with him properly—testing his ability to do it—to come at him from an unorthodox position, to use his weakness (Dream allowed him the Binding Circle, then gave him further examples in CtK). To perhaps not be so stressed at not being engaged with (though this is shifting in the next arc because the Corinthian has definitely earned it), Dream not using full force for a reason. The battles able to have some equality because of that adjustment. 

Anyway. That’s how I write power (and that leads into how I write explicit fic too because, yeah, I feel like you might start to notice some battle tactics influencing all of my prose).

It’s why as much as Corintheus could call for some delightfully dark stuff, I will probably never write that unless the scenario is exactly right. (I have planned/considered what some of those scenarios might be). For me it can tip things too far. It’s the question of is this actually showing power or is it just disproportionate brutality? Is it a hammer instead of a scalpel? Also I agree with you about explicit fic—for all I’ve written so many of them! this is my first, and only, series of explicit works—and Dreamling was also one of the first ships I read for, though I am quite particular about it.

(It's also really really lovely to see someone share my love of Dream! So if ever you want someone to ramble excitedly with I am always ready to talk about how much I adore him!)

[dragonologist-phd]

For Lilith: 👻 for a scene when they were scared

thank you!

Send a symbol for a scene from my muse’s childhood

👻 for a scene when they were scared

(warning for abusive situations)

The mace is cold and heavy in Lilith’s hands as she lifts it from the training bench. It takes every ounce of discipline within her to hold back a grimace as she raises the weapon and dutifully takes her position across from her fellow student. She is sparring against Felix today, which is quite unfortunate; at fourteen years of age, he is the oldest in the class and easily the most likely to win in games of brute strength. The other students stand against the far wall, watching and waiting their turns, and Lilith cannot help but wish that one of them had been chosen for this first match.

It is not the sparring itself Lilith minds. She’s adept at fighting, when she is allowed to be. But her strength comes from magic, from cunning. Straightforward weaponry has never been her strongest skill, and the blunt, brutal maces favored by the Asmodean Church seem especially inelegant in her hands. Her preferences matter little, of course; Inquisitors must use weapons, and if she is to be one, she must learn.

Instructor Brigia watches impassively as the two combatants fall into place. Outside of the training grounds, she wears the typical uniform of the Inquisitors: dark robes paired with masks of iron. The mask is intended to be a means of intimidation, but the removal of it does little to make her expression more inviting. She has never observed their sparring sessions before; she never bothered, not when they were young.

But now this class has ascended to the upper ranks. Now, they are worthy of higher notice. Lilith tightens her grip on her weapon and resolves to prove herself, no matter her disadvantage.

Instructor Brigia is silent as she watches her students prepare, and when they are ready, she gives a stiff nod and a single word. “Begin.”

Naturally, Felix is the one to make the first move. He charges in without hesitation, and Lilith is immediately forced into a defensive position as she dodges his persistent blows.

The fight is sickeningly short. Lilith’s mace is knocked from her hands with a blow that leaves her fingers stinging, and by the time she regains her footing, Felix is already looming over her, his own weapon paused mid-swing, hovering inches from Lilith’s chest.

Humiliation burns within Lilith as the moment stretches out. The Instructor should be calling the match in Felix’s favor now that she’s been disarmed, but no such call comes. Is she being made an example of? Will her failure be held out before the other students, that they may learn from her misstep? It would not be the first time.

She can only wait, stewing in her defeat, until Felix finally wavers and glances to the Instructor.

Instructor Brigia gives no indication that anything is amiss. Stone-faced as ever, she tilts her heads and prompts, “Well?”

Another moment of silent confusion passes, and she releases a low sigh. She nods toward Lilith and says, “Finish the fight. Incapacitate your opponent.”

Lilith understands immediately, and the embarrassment and frustration within her sharpens into cold fear.

She was right. She is being made an example of.

Felix takes a moment longer to catch on. “I…I already won, Instructor.”

“You have won nothing yet. Incapacitate your opponent.” Instructor Brigia’s gaze flickers from Felix, to Lilith, to Felix again. “We have healers in the temple if needed. Do not make me repeat myself again.”

Somehow Felix still doesn’t seem able to grasp her words, but his idiocy is Lilith’s gain. He is still looking at the Instructor when she strikes, bare-handed but determined. She barely fazes the larger student, but she does manage to grab hold of his arm, and she knows her only option is to wrest the weapon from his grip.

But even with the element of surprise, Lilith is still a head shorter than her opponent. He takes hold of her by the back of her robes and throws her to the ground, and this time, there is no hesitation when he comes at her with his mace.

Lilith has a split second to decide what to do- and she decides that she will not simply lie here and make herself an easy target. Rules be damned.

She lifts her hands to meet Felix’s assault, her palms already full of fire pulled straight from her veins. He screams as the magic makes contact and the scent of burning flesh fills the air, and he swings blindly in retaliation. With the burns spreading up his arms he has no chance of aiming well, but his frantic attacks catch Lilith’s right hand, slashing her pam open and wrenching her fingers back with the force of the blow. Lilith brings her other hand back around, delivering a ball of fire with it, and Felix screams again as he is thrown back by the force.

Lilith staggers back up to her feet, just in time for Instructor Brigia’s voice to cut coldly through the chaos.

“Stand down.”

The Instructor approaches Felix’s fallen form and leans down to inspect him, the barest hint of disappointment crossing her features. “A paltry performance, but we don’t wish to damage him beyond repair, do we? Somebody escort this one to the infirmary. And as for you…”

Instructor Brigia leaves Felix behind and approaches Lilith, who automatically straightens her back to stand at attention. Blood drips from her hand, but she doesn’t move from her position as she braces herself for admonishment.

“Good work.”

A shocked breath of relief escapes Lilith’s lips, but before she can say anything, Instructor Brigia has taken hold of her shoulder and steered her to face the other students. “I hope the rest of you were paying attention. You are students now, but one day soon, you will be fighting in the real world. In the real world, there can be no hesitation. The heathens you face will take any opportunity to turn against you. Do not give them the chance.”

“You have all been deemed worthy of advancement in our ranks, and that means that you should be able now to apply this lesson in your training…just as Lilith has.”

Pride swells in Lilith’s chest at the praise, even as her fear-fueled adrenaline fades and the throbbing in her hands suddenly threatens to overwhelm her. She bites down a gasp, and Instructor Brigia glances down at her. The Instructor holds out her own hand in silent command, and Lilith forces herself not to flinch as she offers up her injury.

The healing is almost as painful as the initial attack. Lilith’s skin seethes as it stitches itself together, and the bones of her fingers twitch and crack as the Instructor forces their mending. When she is done, however, Lilith’s hand is good as new- save for two of her fingers, which remain painfully bent and crooked.

Lilith bites down hard on her tongue to prevent a whimper from slipping out as Instructor Brigia brushes a thumb against the fingers. In a thoughtful voice, she says, “These will be treated tomorrow. That means twenty-four hours from now and not a second sooner. Let it be a lesson to improve your melee skills. You may have won, but it was a sloppy victory, and there is no pride in that. The next time you spar, I expect to see a refined technique. Understood?”

Lilith nods and slowly withdraws, every fiber of her resolve focused on keeping the shakiness out of her hands and her voice. “Understood, Instructor. I will not fail.”

[set-phasers-to-whump]

glass

prompt: glass shard

whumpee: gereon rath

fandom: babylon berlin

hello here's a little fic for today :) it's gereon/charlotte, perhaps sometime during or very soon after s4. hope you like!

Gereon holds his own in the fight for several minutes, out of sheer determination if nothing else. But he can’t last forever, not against a man much larger and much more trained in fighting than himself. 

As he starts to tire out, his opponent only seems to grow more powerful. His punches hit with more force and Gereon is finding it harder and harder to hit back. 

They’re getting steadily closer to a wall, and Gereon thinks maybe he can use this to his advantage. Push the other man into the bricks, stun him. 

Instead, he’s suddenly grabbed by the collar and pulled forwards, and then his head is being forced through a closed window. 

The heavy impact of his skull with glass and wood, the sound of shattering, the immediate throbbing pain, the blood trickling down his face, the feeling of glass shards embedded into his skin - all of this combines into one sensation, oppressive and deadening. 

He’s pulled backwards, chin scraping on jagged edges, and then he hits the floor with force. He can only lie there and watch as his attacker walks away. 

He lies flat on his back on the cold ground for quite some time, breathing heavily. His head hurts. His face and neck are sticky with blood and his skin is stinging from the cuts. 

He needs to get out of here. 

He staggers to his feet, horribly lightheaded and for a second on the edge of unconsciousness. He waits, standing stock-still, until the feeling fades. 

His journey home is slow and painful. He’s exhausted and achy from the fight, in addition to the pain in his head and on his face. He wants nothing more than to sleep. 

Of course, he cannot exactly sleep with a face full of glass. He opens the door to his apartment and resigns himself to an eternity spent pulling shards from his skin. 

His apartment is not empty. For the most brief of moments, he freezes by the door, afraid of an intruder, but then he hears Charlotte’s voice and relaxes. 

“Hi, Gereon!”

She emerges from the bedroom smiling, but her face quickly falls and she hurries to his side. 

“What happened?”

Gereon shrugs. “There was a fight. I lost.”

“With what? A window?”

“More or less.”

“Come here.”

He follows her into the bedroom and sits on the bed when she tells him to. She produces a pair of tweezers from somewhere - he’s pretty sure they aren’t his - and then sits beside him, gently touching his chin so that he turns to face her. 

She pulls the glass shards away one by one, placing them into a bowl. They’re tiny, but each one stings terribly when she pulls it free from his skin. 

When the job is finally finished, Charlotte wipes the blood off of his face and then tugs a comb through his hair, dislodging still more pieces of glass. Some of them fall onto the bed, and afterwards they both spend quite a long time making sure they gather up all the loose bits. 

This done, Gereon strips off his torn and dirty suit and discards it into the corner, to be dealt with in the morning. He scarcely even looks down at himself, already painfully aware of the bruises that must be forming. 

Charlotte does look, though. He feels her gaze on him, almost overwhelming in its intensity. 

“Does it hurt very much?” she asks, as they both slip beneath the covers. 

“It’s not so bad,” he replies. Yes, the cuts still sting and his whole body is sore and his head is throbbing insistently, but it could have been worse. He could have bled a lot more. 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Charlotte whispers against his shoulder. She’s curled herself around him quite protectively, her hands cool against the ache in his chest. “Even if it wasn’t so bad.”

“Thank you,” Gereon whispers in return. “For being here.”

He can feel her smile as she presses a kiss to the back of his neck. 

“You’re welcome.” 

thanks for reading!! hope you have a good evening or whenever <3

[handsomethrowrug]

🐎 🦘

Animal Themed Headcanons (Accepting!)

@musemelodies

-

🐎 ---- How strong is your muse? Could they fight someone with a stronger skillset than them?

Scar isn't joking when he says that he's at the "shallow end of the gene pool". For a lion of his age, he is weaker than average. His naturally lithe frame serves as a disadvantage as he isn't able to build up sufficient muscle to counter a larger lion, such as Mufasa. He learned at a young age to use other skills to his advantage. While leading the Guard, he relied a lot on his agility to dodge strikes, or to check his surroundings and see what would give him an advantage (something to climb on, a loose rock, a root for the other to trip on, etc).

His line of "You know how I loathe violence" does, technically, still apply. While he isn't below using violent means, he prefers to keep himself out of it. If he had a choice, he would rely on conversation and more diplomatic means.

However, that doesn't mean he's a matchstick-lion that can be blown over in the wind. He can still hold his own. He was able to slap Sarabi and send her reeling back, and could keep a good pace with Simba. I would hazard a guess that if he had to fight something of a similar size or smaller, he would manage to to do okay (or stall long enough until he can escape). I would imagine he is still able to hunt independently.

He's past his prime, that's for sure. Disposing of his Guard came with the cost of him getting injured in the process (I am tempted to say it's his back so he can forever use it as an excuse to not do things despite being physically fit again). The injury has healed, but it did take some time for it to pass. By the time it did, he was out of practice and had lost whatever muscle he had managed to build over the time in the Guard. Despite his best efforts, that never came back.

In terms of stronger opponents, he usually knows when he would lose. For instance, he would never have dreamed of intentionally going against the hyenas because he knew he wouldn't be able to fend them off. He only made the insulting comments when he thought they weren't in earshot. He knew challenging Mufasa would be a fool's errand, and so he never did.

Why else do you think he relied on the collective strength of the hyenas for that?

-

🦘 ---- If they have kids, what type of parent is your muse? If not, what type of parent would your muse be?

It would be very easy to say 'Scar is such a selfish individual that he neglects his own cubs in his pursuit to hold power'. However... I prefer to stray away from that. Was he as good a parent as Mufasa? Not at all. But that doesn't make him a bad parent, you know what I mean?

Scar's family was a good family, I want to make that very clear. They worked hard to take care of both their sons while juggling royal duties. Unfortunately, only one was the direct heir, and so was given more time and attention than the other. It wasn't out of badness, but rather out of necessity. However, it impacted Tacari a lot, starting the fire of resentment for his brother that simmered for a very long time. By the time it would have been decided to let Tacari attend the lessons too, it would have been too late. A very simple oversight, and one that I believe would have been regretted by the parents.

When Scar grew up and was still without a mate (whether due to bad luck or not finding interest in anyone who was there), he had made a decision not to be a parent. It was for the best, in one way, as he is... Not the best with children. As we know, he gets bothered by Simba. However, while he does put on a slightly mocking babying tone, he actually doesn't completely dismiss Simba. Obviously, he must do enough for Simba to actually like him enough to go visit by himself.

Provided the cubs aren't too hyper, you can start to see a better side to him. He shares stories or snippets of wisdom. He'd ask them questions and get them to properly think about things (such as why the grass changes colour in the dry season). Sometimes, he would even be in good enough humour to join the pride in social evenings. It's a chance to see what things might have been like if Tacari never became Scar.

Now, he actually does have cubs, but we never see him interacting with them. All we have to go by is what Zira believes is best... And this is where things aren't quite that simple as you would expect.

Zira's plans for the three were not Scar's wishes. Not fully. His intentions had been to give the three the time of day and teach them the skills needed to thrive in a particular area - Kovu would be king (despite both being adopted and being younger), Nuka would be the royal advisor and key diplomat (essentially putting him at practically equal status to Kovu), Vitani would lead the lionesses - but he never got the opportunity to fully explain this to Zira. (Now that I think about it, Vitani is the second-born of a king, so it's little surprise she ended up taking the mantle of the Lion Guard.)

A lot of my sentiment on this is fuelled by how threads developed with @roastytoastyprincxss - an example being this. While Nuka grew up to be the forgotten, neglected son, he actually spent a lot of time with Scar in his early life. I'd go as far as saying that Nuka helped keep his father grounded longer than he would have been otherwise, simply because it was a positive distraction beyond everything that was going on.

Had Simba not returned, or had Scar not been killed, he would have given the three cubs their dues, and made sure all of them felt important. They would have still been villains, but they would have felt more connected than they otherwise were.

[wandercr]

sometimes, the training rings in the citadel remind her of vault 101. what difference was there, really, in nursing a bloodied lip from a fellow recruit, rather than butch deloria?

most of the time, she manages to hold her own. she suspects that some of her peers go easy on her. since coming out of the purifier alive, she doesn't exactly look ... healthy. her already pale skin takes on a grayish, almost ghastly pallor; the blue of her veins are visible at her temples and undereyes, but she refuses to spend anymore time in the medical bay. ( and given her recent temper, she imagines them thankful for that small grace. )

none of it stops some of the other recruits from testing just how far their vault dweller can be pushed.

she might be faster, but her opponent is larger, and probably hasn't spent anytime lately in a radiation bath.

he doesn't bother with pretense, no dancing around the ring or giving her a chance to use her agility to her advantage. he comes straight for her, too quick to dodge or weasel away from.

before she can process anything, eliana hits the ground hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs; a hard kick lands against her ribs. fucking asshole --

she wheezes, scrabbling at the ground with dirty, chipped fingernails, as a boot plants against her mid-back. a flurry of curses fight for what little air remains in her chest, and ultimately comes out as nothing at all.

part of her wants to squirm out of his hold and rip his throat out; the other prays for a paladin to walk by and care enough about their newfound hero to keep her in one piece. / @colonelmade

[yveltalreal]

OOC

//i finally drew what maple looks like as a houndoom lol. boys when the aura trio accidentally awaken ancient werewolf curse genes. also did you guys know heavily referencing images of irl animals is actually good for your art to look better? lol.

//rambling about the reasoning and choices for stuff, as well as some lore under the cut

//markings on the horns and bone protrusions has a reasoning its related to the special breed of houndoom only his family breeds and stuff. heres a picture of them cause i wanna finally post about them a bit lol

//this is a slightly older image and not as polished since its mostly a general guideline/concept but it gets the point across. this breed of houndoom is ONLY bread by maples family and who ends up owning one is heavily regulated by her family and they keep an eye on all of the known houndoom. the markings on the hones and bone sections come from their origins, special houndoom given to the family by legendary pokemon in order to mark them, its the same reason they once turned into houndoom and acted as were-houndooms. it was a curse/punishment put on them by the gods as a punishment for the crimes of their ancestor, who stole from various legends and killed many chosens.

//the houndoom were eventually bred to be larger, fluffier, have an extra set of horns, curled tails, and a forked tongues by the hounds themselves. it should be noted that only really the forked tongue shows up on the houndour, though.

//most of these traits were chosen as the union of hounds (the family) often fought large, dangerous pokemon. being larger and having thick fur protected them against attacks, made them stronger. the curled tails developed for a similar reason as irl dogs with curled tails, where it helped keep the tail closer to the body preventing it from freezing and this helping in colder environments, but also served a secondary effect of making it harder for opponents to grab or bite the tail.

//i hc that houndoom tails are naturally prehensile, allowing them to hold and move things while still keeping their mouths open to spew flames or bite. because of the curled tails, the family houndoom lost some of that ability but not all of it. they can still uncurl their tails but rarely do so unless theyre "off duty" so to say and can only carry or grab lighter stuff with them, holding them up to their back rather than just dragging it behind them like most other houndoom breeds would.

//now as for maple. because only the markings was put on the family hounds (the breed of houndoom) and the family bred all the other traits onto their houndoom, when they were werehoundoom (the last one was maples great grandmother) they only ever had the markings. for the most part they all looked like regular houndoom with minor differences for each one like slightly different horns or different fur length, etc etc etc. yveltal, xerneas, and zygarde fucked up at one point and kinda. re-awakened the werewolf genes in maple so!! he can turn into a houndoom now, but he doesnt quite have control yet.

//i chose to base his werewolf form off a borzoi partially because haha funny, partially cause a borzoi houndoom wouldnt stray TOO far from the actual dog breeds houndoom is based off of, but also because of the breeds history as wolf hunting dogs. as a sight hound, borzois hunt primarily using their eye sight and speed. maples always been themed around speed, with his earliest concepts being born from the idea of a cyclizar racer speed freak. the idea of using a wolf hunting breed was especially interesting, as maples job as yveltals chosen is to hunt down and kill chosens causing trouble or certain large-scale threats that cannot be left alone any longer. some of maples friends abusers and other people who have troubled them have been likened to lycanroc, a pokemon based off wolves, and maples drive to protect his friends and fight anyone that hurts them if allowed to plays into that when designed with a wolf hunting breed in mind. the final reason a borzoi was chosen is because for a long time one could not purchase a borzoi and youd need to be given one by the tsar if you wanted to own one because of how popular they were with the russian monarchs. this parallels with the family's breed of houndoom, which is typically only owned by members of the family and are only given out to certain trusted individuals.

//theres a lot more houndoom lore i got and maple lore but trgerw im not making this post even longer. the family hound breed is not open to use without permission as it has SUPER important ties to my characters lore and i have. thoughts and opinions on it. only a couple of characters outside of my own have family hounds and its cause they have permission from me to have them and also in lore reasons to. love wins.

[navy-leader]

Ok. Now onto the earlier stick oc I designed:

Apocalypse Maiden aka Poppy May

Weapons:

None. If she ever got isekaid to the RHG Cier world, the closest to consider her weapon is the "magic" pencil.

Scarf and cape that complement each other for constant flight. Cape can also shapeshift into two, useful shapes. Cape shapechanging is based from Gris, a game that Poppy would visit to love the visuals and music. Scarf is from Journey Thatgamecompany. Cape is from Sky Children of the light.

Charm on belt allows for shielding, but for at least three, consecutive hits from armored handed punches enough to break it temporarily. Even with the shield, though, a hit can briefly stun her if caught unaware. This is based from Laya's Horizon, one of the games she enters to race with Barry.

Powers:

Screams that force its targets into a state of decay, it's scale is large and direct.

Gifted with the power of life from her sister. But rather than using the gift for healing, she uses song to breath a spark into the drawings, mostly animals, whenever she needs muscle.

Strengths:

Better in long and maybe mid range combat.

Her powers gradually grow and strengthen against the her sister's seal, making her a force better avoided than face for combat.

Might be able to create a "shadow" form that's giant.

Shape changing cape allows her to adapt to different environments, such as swimming in water. Makes for great body slams.

Good drawer.

Fast reflexes and maneuverability, especially while in the gaming worlds where she needs to hide and dodge antagonistic forces.

Maximum length of powerful scream is 20 feet long. Fastest to kill and turn an opponent to

Weaknesses:

She has no control over her powers activating at varying times. They'd often act on their own based on her emotions. Doesn't help that she doesn't know all of nor the full potential to her powers by the team her creator forcefully sealed her. But her unsealed power level would basically be similar to orange, including the telepathy.

Because her powers are the opposite of Orange, unless the drawings are objects or simple body parts like a hand, the drawings end up "stillbirth." So, she's got to sing quickly. But the larger the drawing in mass, the longer and stronger the song needs to make them fully awake.

She never learned to fight, so she's practically defenseless without her powers.

Scarf is vulnerable to serious ice to the point of losing magic. More fragile to the point of tearing like a regular scarf. Being submerged in water also drains its juice slowly.

Also, if she overuses her scarf and cape, she'll need to touch ground or fire to recharge them.

Giant "Shadow" form renders her unconscious after one use like for a scream.

Scream is one direction only, in both her sealed and unsealed state.

Personality:

Self depreciating/self loathing

artistic

Curious

Sensitive

Character arc is similar to Teen Titan's Terra.

NOTE: Before Barrior Maiden, I considered putting Apocalypse Maiden in Cier as an inbetween arc to her life in her creator's desktop, as well as apprenticeship under Victim in Stick City. However, because of her lack in combat experience and likelihood to avoid fights, I created Barrier Maiden as her muscle. But Barrier Maiden already proved to hold on her own, so I split them.

Love these girlies,,, theyd make such a banger story and id love to inspect them like insects under a microscope.

[chaoticgeminate]

Just thinking about certain wolf pack!

Love you my Kelligraphy!💚

Oh Hazel, I'm thinking about them too (in fact they're the next update planed for Iridescence) and I love that you love them so much!! I also love you my Harvest Witch Hazel 💙

Have a gift in the form of a little blurb for the pack 😘

Frankie couldn't help but smile as he lounged on the sand, it was far too cold for the usual beach fun but watching Benny and Will wrestle in their half-changed forms was entertaining on its own. Santi was currently refereeing the spar, since they had all broken off from their own packs they relied on practicing against each other to keep themselves sharp.

Out in the waves he noticed the spotted seal head breach the surface, your bond to the ocean made it harder for you to leave to head inner city for long periods so Frankie couldn't imagine the relief you were going through, and you dove back under the waves moments after. The Grand Hunt wasn't exactly a short event, every wherewolf pack in Se'Kevia in attendance, and a whole month out in the woods had left you feeling stretched thin.

But you had not only toughed it out for him -the same way Tom and the kids had- you'd even proven yourself when a rather large bull moose had drawn close to the tents where any of the family members who weren't werewolves had been staying. You had managed to use the very basic water magic Saraya had been teaching you to protect the others, long enough for the hunters to return and handle the threat.

Even though it was almost unfounded the entire collective of werewolves agreed you deserved the Mark of The Guardian. It was more of an honorary thing nowadays but it was still a big honor in general and especially for one who wasn't a werewolf.

"Still can't believe she took on a fucking bull moose."

Benny say down looking smug in his victory, out of them all he utilized his half-change form the most and was better with combat while in it, but Will was already changing opponents to Tom now that he'd arrived.

"I can, she chose to leave her Pod on her own, she's incredibly brave."

"God you're such a sap."

Frankie shoved his packmate and looked up as you rode the wave onto shore, round spotted body and all just lounging on the sand, and he got up to walk down to the wet sand and sit beside you after half-changing so he could stay warm. Beside him you let out a soft 'mooph' of a greeting and rolled slightly, letting him wrap his much larger body around yours, and Frankie couldn't help but marvel that your natural scent was so potent even with the salty stinging the air and in the fur of your coat.

He pressed his nose to yours, a wolfy chuckle escaping him when you made the sharp smooching sound, and you let him push your head back closer to your body to squish you up into a rounder shape before he was drawing back to rest his head on your now extended neck. Santi growled as Will stepped out and Tom stayed in, the next match would be Frankie in against the other dark haired wolf, but it was mostly easy to ignore them.

He began to sign to you, the easiest form to communicate when you were wearing your seal skin, wanting to know if you would like to meet his pup. You knew about Adelia, had since the beginning, but the two of you had struggled with everything that led up to you starting to accept his courtship officially so he hsdnct ever wanted to put the burden of being in his daughter's life on you before you were ready.

When you confirmed yes with a single exhaled sound he felt his heart swell, hoping that this year was the last Christmas he would have to spend wishing for someone to hold while the guys argued over who got.the girls the best presents.

[mayhemproduces]

Hangman Adam Page vs Phantom

The bell rings, and the combatants circle each other for a moment. Unlike some opponents, Hangman is not underestimating Phantom, rightly assuming she is as fierce as any competitor he has faced. Phantom, meanwhile, is contemplating how best to try and hobble her larger opponent. So she goes for his legs, trying to take him off his feet and bring the fight down to the mat. Hangman attempts to block, but she uses her smaller size to duck under his attack and strikes hard at his right knee. The force makes him drop down onto that knee, and Phantom takes advantage, turning her attack to his chest and laying in several kicks.Adam grimaces, and when Phantom finally lets up, he leans forward, trying to catch his breath. She does not want to give him that chance, however, and immediately lunges with a running knee strike, knocking Hangman down completely to the mat at last. Continuing to focus on his knee that she was already targeting, she goes to lock in a half crab, wrenching back on Adam’s leg. He groans at the pain, seeing he was completely right not to misjudge Phantom’s skills. However, he still has the size and weight advantage, and he puts this to use by pushing himself up and leveraging his larger frame to knock Phantom off of him. Just as she did, he does not wait for her to recover, picking her up and throwing her backwards in a fall away slam. Launching himself back to up to his feet, Hangman goes to scoop her up again but Phantom reacts first, knocking him backwards with a kick to the stomach. Adam staggers back, and she moves to climb the turnbuckle, leaping off and hitting Hangman with a big splash! He falls back to the mat, and Phantom goes for the cover.1…2…KICKOUT!Hangman kicks out, again leveraging his size to throw her off of him. Both combatants get back to their feet, glaring at each other. Adam gives a smile, showing that he can see they’re well-matched, and he starts to tell Phantom just that, but she does not seem interested in talking, running towards him and hitting him with another running knee strike. Hangman is rocked, stumbling back, which allows Phantom to do so again. Adam staggers, falling back against the ropes. Phantom hits him again, and he tumbles through the ropes. He regains his footing on the ring apron though, and as Phantom turns to get a running start for another knee strike, Hangman leaps over the ropes and goes for a Buckshot Lariat! But Phantom, who is very familiar with such a move, ducks, causing Adam to stumble and lose his balance. Taken off-guard by his opponent having predicted his move too well, he leaves himself open enough for her to hit him from behind and knock him down to the mat. Once again, she locks in a hold on his knee, already ailing from her previous attacks. Hangman snarls as his knee is wrenched, the pain making it harder for him to push up and throw her off. Instead, he makes a grab for the ropes, able to pull himself enough to reach them.ROPEBREAK!He might not have tapped, but Phantom’s hold has still done its damage. Hangman uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet, very much favoring his knee now. Will he be able to gain enough momentum to try for another Buckshot? Phantom it seems is counting on him not being able to do so, or more likely, she simply will not give him a chance. Hopping through the ropes herself, she sets up for her own slingshot lariat! But unfortunately her earlier attacks work against her, as does Hangman’s own familiarity with the move, his weak knee and his ring awareness making him drop down just before she can hit the lariat.These two do indeed seem to be well-matched, both too familiar with the move to be able to land a hit with a lariat! Hangman stares at Phantom as he gingerly gets back to his feet. His usual strategy might not be enough to win this match, so he decides to go with what has helped him so far–his size advantage. Lunging, he hits Phantom with a rolling elbow, staggering her. He does it again, and when she staggers back again, he picks her up and brings her down hard with a powerslam, then goes for a cover.1…2…KICKOUT!Despite Hangman’s power advantage, Phantom clearly has no quit in her! Wriggling out of the pin, she repositions herself and goes to lock in a Spectre Lock on Hangman instead! Taken by surprise, he struggles against the hold, but it seems like he might be going out. The ref comes over to check, lifting Hangman’s arm and letting it drop. He goes to do it again, but on the second drop, Adam holds his arm up. He’s not out of the fight yet! Gathering his strength, he again uses his larger size to roll himself and Phantom over, allow him to finally break out of the hold.But the Spectre Lock has taken its toll, and Hangman is very unsteady on his feet. He staggers backward towards the ropes, having just enough wherewithal to drop and roll under them. Realizing where he now is, he decides to put everything he’s got into one last desperation move, slowly rising to his feet and readying for one last Buckshot attempt. Phantom, meanwhile, jumps over the ropes on the other side of the ring, readying for a slingshot herself. Once they both look up and realize what the other is planning to do, they eye each other, each daring the other to metaphorically pull the trigger. At last, they both move at once, flipping over the ropes and nailing each other with dueling lariats at the same time!The crowd whoops, thrilled at the double attack, but waiting to see which one–if either–has enough left in the tank to go for a pin. Both combatants lay in the ring breathing deeply, then just as they begin to stir, suddenly the bell rings!“Unfortunately, the time limit has expired! This match has been ruled a draw!”Hangman and Phantom have both managed to sit up, and they stare at each other, silently acknowledging that they pushed each other to the limit. Clearly we will have to wait for another day to find out just who can gain the first victory between these two tough competitors!

[thequietmanno1]

TheLreads, Vigilantes ch 93, Replies Part 2

1) “Rappa down! Send the EMT unity ASAP, we can’t allow the timeline to be fractured, we can’t lose him!”- Mirko heard the call, but she only knows how to heal by beating up the enemy worse than the patient, so they don’t hurt them anymore.

2) “Yeah I don’t think that’s in the rulebook of free-for-all illegal cagefights, but then again, it’s not like there’s something against it in there.”- He is technically still fighting within the cage this way, depending on which side he’s holding.

3) “THERE IS MIRKO, SHOWING UP TO SAVE THE DAY ONCE AGAIN! and somehow here faster than All Might. Huh.”- All Might was further delayed getting the officers some healthy snacks before rushing in. Stakeouts can be hungry work.

4) “Why of course because she’s this manga’s best character and her presence here is a blessing to all of us mortals? And Horikoshi demanded her appearance whit a gun to Furuhashi’s head?”- Truly, the side-characters can upstage the “heroes” whenever they take action. The more the fandom loves them, the stronger they’ll be.

5) “I don’t know Rappa, you ever seen a bunny fighting? Those kicks are vicious man.”- More lives have been lost facing off against mad bunnies than there have been against bears.

6) “Unfortunately, you can’t hoodie, the time-space continuum must be preserved no matter what. We are bound to the fate laid forth.”- Hood’s acting like their demise would automatically make him stronger from it, like they were metal slimes in a video game, due to give a ton of exp if he could just finish them off. No wonder he was mad the encounter was forcibly ended early.

7) “She’s more capable than the both of you doltz, why are you being mean to her now?”- They’re just annoyed she’s showing them up when they’re fighting 2-on-1 and losing and she comes crashing in and belts Hood easily.

8) “the fuck you are on Knuckles, you saw her holding her own even better than Rappa! Not gonna refute the wild allegations, she is absolutely feral, that there’s no denying.”- Pretty sure that’s just Rappa mouthing off to Knuckles and him giving him his trademark silent treatment in response whilst he monologues.

9) “OH SHIT YOU ONLY HAVE T MINUS 2.9999999 SECONDS NOW MIRKO, QUICK, KICK HIS ASS BEFORE ALL MIGHT SHOWS UP!”- The one opponent Mirko can’t beat: The ticking clock of the inevitable future!

10) “Already? Damn, time really flies when All Might shows up, right?”- Literally, actually. I think the major time skip occurred after the sky egg incident and his major involvement in that chapter of Koichi’s life. All Might is the harbinger of chronology, pushing time towards the present in ever-increasing leaps with every time he shows up.

11) “No no, no throwing a fit, it’s time to go home now, your mom is calling, you need to take a bath and have dinner okay?”- He’s tired himself out from all this exercise, needs a long period of rest before he’s ready for playtime again.

12) “Aaaand time. Oh jesus, that was a close call, those three seconds were way too short for so much to happen I tell you that.”- Furuhasi should have given himself a larger window of time, but like many things, he misjudged it.

13) “Yeah All Might, you wasted too many nanoseconds picking up your body pillow. Shame on you, you pervert”- All Might, always on time to save the day, but never stop the overarching plot.

14) “I don;t even blame this chapter for being uneventful, I think the fact I spent a whole month away from liveblogging rotted my mind and rusted my gears, I need a bit more of it so I can actually put the ol’ reliable brain back on the tracks.”- Get that WD40 spray for your rusty brainpan. @thelreads