#dawn yang

[urtopia]

Artist: Dawn Yang

[thewindowofthesummerhouse]

Dawn Yang

[strawberryscare]

new fav ship prospect is buddy and fabian. imagine growing up intensely religious and conservative and not only do you end up with rich asshole bisexual disaster boyfriend but he sincerely suggests you meet his godless hellish pirate devil prince father. there’s something very charming in all that.

[lessonnzero]

𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 ⭒ 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁

like or reblog if you use or save - don’t repost

[anthurak]

Takeaways from the Volume 9 Epilogue:

--

One thing I really like about Oscar’s ‘If there was anything I wish I could borrow from you…’ monologue is that it laid out/confirmed something I’ve always felt was a major aspect of Oscar’s dynamic with Ruby that I nonetheless feel a lot of the fandom has missed: That Oscar very much sees Ruby as a mentor and an example to follow, and how their dynamic is specifically a foil to what we saw between Ruby and Ozpin. That Ruby acts as a mentor and example to Oscar in the same way Ozpin was to Ruby, and that Ruby is a far BETTER mentor and example to Oscar than Ozpin ever was to her. Which, as an aside, is a dynamic I can’t help but feel a lot of people have been misinterpreting as ‘ship-teasing’ and is one of the main reasons I’ve simply never been able to see Oscar as any kind of viable love-interest to Ruby. Frankly the dynamic of ‘Ruby is the mentor and example to Oscar that Ozpin couldn’t be for her’ is simply so much more INTERESTING than any kind of romance could ever hope to be.

--

Even in animatic form, Winter basically going overdrive on the maiden powers was a sight to behold. And her own monologue had all the self-deprecation we were expecting. Our girl is clearly holding on by a thread and it’s going to be REAL interesting seeing how she reacts and adjusts to her sister not actually being dead. As in, I can imagine a situation where Winter tries to throw herself into a heroic sacrifice with the belief that Weiss would make a better Maiden than her.

Also, Winter’s monologue giving major focus to how Penny is super-super-dead-dead-and-definitely-not-coming-back-for-really-realsies, as she is talking to the sister who she ALSO believes is DEFINITELY also dead? Specifically with the words that Penny is gone, when Penny’s last words to her were that she’d be ‘part of you’?

Yeah, there is no way in hell we’ve seen the last of Penny XD

--

The CROWN. Like it was only a few shots, but as someone who read the CFVY Books (which you totally should if you haven’t, they’re great), holy shit I was NOT expecting them to pop up here.

I mean, in hindsight it makes perfect sense that they’d be involved in Volume 10. They’re basically Vacuo’s equivalent to Vale’s criminal element and the White Fang splinter faction as Salem’s co-opted insurgency group, with Jax and Gillian joining Roman, Adam and Jacques as the latest of Salem’s unwitting patsies. It’s definitely going to be real interesting seeing the crew deal with them. Like it’s really fun to imagine Team RWBY in particular being kind of exasperated at seeing Jax’s probably doing a whole ‘With Salem’s help I shall be King!’ shtick after everything they’ve seen with Roman, Adam and Jacques.

Oh and if you don’t know, Jax has a mind-control semblance, so him trying to use that on Yang could actually lead to a sneaky callback to the Justice League crossover, ie; Yang doing a ‘Yeah, I’m not doing THAT shit again.’ XD

--

Qrow’s whole vibe through this is fascinating. Like his section may have been the one we already saw, but after seeing the abject depression and growing despair of all the other characters, Qrow actually being OPTIMISTIC hit so much harder.

--

Raven showing up at the end is… interesting.

I’ll admit that ever since we saw that specific clip a few months back, I’ve been rather conflicts about Raven showing up to deliver RWBY+J to Vacuo, particularly after Ruby’s tree vision. Like for one it felt a bit random and unnecessary. The tree already deposited the Ever After team outside of Vacuo so they didn’t exactly need help getting there. Not to mention that it kind of clotheslines the story-thread set up by Ruby’s vision; that she now has a reason to track Raven down to get the ANSWERS to what happened to Summer. Finally, it’s just kind of… random? Like where did Raven even come from to get the team?

But now having seen the clip with its intended context, I’m definitely more on board with it. Particularly hearing from Kerry and Eddy that the original ending for the penultimate episode had RWBY+J going through the portal to arrive at their memorial stone, and met by a ‘Mysterious Figure’, ie; Raven. Here it feels like were getting more set up to get answers later as to what Raven was doing at the memorial.

And really, now that I’ve thought about it more, this method kind of puts the thread of Ruby going to Raven for answers even MORE into focus. Like the story reintroduces Raven in the present right after Ruby got a vision basically saying ‘hey, Raven is important’. And now going into Volume 10, we’re pretty much perfectly positioned for Ruby to pull Raven aside for those all-important ‘Why were you fucking my mom? What happened to my mom?’ questions.

--

Finally… yeah that ending hit me a LOT harder than I was expecting. Like that ending was HOPE in its purest form and it was honestly beautiful to see. Particularly right now with the future of the show seeming so uncertain. I’ve personally been optimistic about RWBY’s future (in a manner not unlike Qrow’s vibes I suppose lol), but damn the hopefulness of that ending hit especially hard, and was something I’ll admit I needed. And I imagine the rest of us could use as well.

We'll be getting Volume 10. And 11, and 12, and however many more it takes to finish this story. At this point, I have no doubt of that.

[dragaliareferencearchive]

A New Venture on the Eighth Dawn - Honkai: Star Rail

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Yang: Your brother is really hitting those weights.

Jaune: Half brother, and yeah, he is. His "Workout mixtape" helps him focus.

Yang: Makes sense. What's he listen to? Sabaton?

Jaune: I Don't know, He's never let me listen to it. It's probably something like that though.

Dawne's earbuds: (Mocktails, Mixers, Ice~ Snacks are real nice~ Soda, Sour mix, Dry~ I'm lit you can't deny~)

[lierenprotectionsquad]

Imagine how fucking pissed Nora is gonna be when she finds out she missed the Bees

[landofanimes]

Akatsuki no Yona Musical (2024)

Author Mizuho Kusanagi's illustration in honor of yonamyu! (notice Yona and Hak were double cast)

[wifiwuxians]

happy mid-autumn festival!!! i hope it's a day of good fortune and reunion for everyone! i yearn for the day in which i am able to eat a mooncake.

much to my chagrin this drawing appears very different on desktop and on mobile but oh well. i think i'll take a crack at writing an ID for this one, just because there are a few characters! including xunyang 83 everyone else is offscreen lol but they're there i promise

[ID: a scene depicting a moonlit picnic to mark the start of mid-autumn festival, featuring several characters from MDZS, as well as two of the artist's own characters from a fic titled Dawn Chorus. in the bottom left corner sit Wen Zhuliu, Wang Lingjiao, Mo Xuanyu and Wen Chao. they are conversing pleasantly. the bottom right corner hosts Jiang Yanli, Jiang Cheng, Jin Zixuan and Jin Ling, alongside a puppy version of Fairy. Jiang Yanli has brought her famous soup, as well as some spring rolls. Jin Ling is lying down and holding a lantern as his mother strokes his back. Jin Zixuan has a loving arm around his wife's torso. behind them, Jiang Cheng is attempting to wrangle Fairy and keep her from eating their food. above and to the left sit the Dawn Chorus characters Wen Xun and the fic-specific version of Xue Yang, who has his arm around him as he laughs. they've brought wine. in Xue Yang's lap sits an infant, Hexie, who is reaching out to a fruit gleefully offered to them by Standard Edition Xue Yang, who is sitting a bit ahead with A-Qing, Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan, who smile at the scene while drinking tea and eating. they've brought a platter of crab. to the right of them sit Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, who are happily holding Lan Sizhui between them. their snack is watermelon. behind them, just arriving, are Mianmian, who is carrying her daughter in her arms, and her husband, who is carrying their lantern and food. behind them is Wen Qing, who is calling out to Wen Ning, who is rushing up to her with a smile and a box in his hands. the corner of a blanket in the top left and the top of someone's head in the bottom right suggest there are more people at the gathering. a few white flowers bloom on the grass everyone sits on, predominantly around Wen Xun. every picnic blanket has mooncakes, and most characters brought lanterns. many other lanterns are seen floating by and up into the sky, towards the full moon. the atmosphere is friendly and lighthearted. /end ID]

[harukaprism]

Fuck me, old man

Pairing: Welt Yang x F!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, smut, mentions of injuries on reader, nicknames used (little one, my star), spanking, unprotected sex (wear a condom kids), swearing, pussy slapping, fingering, welt calls you his slut, oral (receiving), this is all just filthy filthy filthy. Do I need to tag gloves being used?

Word Count: 3,224

Dawn's notes: Shhhhhh, just have sex with the old man. It's good for the soul.

You were not looking forward to the lecture you were going to get the second you stepped back onto The Express. Your mission had gone well of course, you were a Nameless and an expert traveler for The Express as the others were, but Welt Yang was harsher on you than the others. 

You were hoping it was for a sexual reason and not that he was an old man and “youths these days”. Loading your wounded body onto the train you easily avoided Himeko and the others, Welt nowhere to be seen, yet. Opening the door to your room and throwing your body onto your bed you stared at the ceiling; a few decorations that you had put up there that March had given you and little doodles that Welt had done in his past time. 

You had admired his work as an animator on his planet, his skills showed in every drawing he made, silly little things he made for all of the Nameless on the train, but it seemed he put more effort into the drawings he gave you. You had asked him about his planet and begged him to draw and show you what it was like. Both of you wanted him to go back to his home, to see his family and friends again, hoping that at some point it will be on the list of planets that needed help from The Express. 

Glancing to the side you looked at the bedside table, all of your things already placed there along with a drawing that you treasured the most; Welt called them sunflowers. He drew a field of them with a setting sun in the back. It seemed like he had been there before and wanted to visit it again, the solemness on his face causing you to regret asking about his home planet. 

A knock on your door sent a race through your heart, you had no idea who it could be. “Yes?” You were hoping it was Pom Pom bringing you something to eat and drink. 

“Are you alright?” Damn it, Welt was at your door and you hadn’t had a chance to shower, eat, or even hide your wounds. 

“O-Oh Welt! Yeah I-I’m fine.” You forced a chuckle out of your throat sitting up hoping he would not come in. 

“Pom-Pom said you didn’t look great and didn’t stop to report anything or say anything to anyone. That isn’t like you.” He saw right through you, he always did. “Can I come in?” There was no way to stop him and you knew that, he was such a good person and if he thought something was wrong with you he would want to care and see you. 

“Yeah, doors unlocked.” Your heart raced as you watched your door open, he looked like he had just woken up from a nap and it was dangerously beautiful. His hair was a bit messy, the gray streak sticking straight up almost. “Did you just wake up?” You tried to tease him to take his attention off your bruised body. 

“What happened?” His ungloved fingertips brushed against your bruised cheek.

“Welt I am fine I promise.” You tried to convince him that you really were okay, your body was sore and you just needed to rest. “You can go back to the parlor car, I'll be fine.” 

The look under his glasses made your heart sink; you never wanted to worry him. “Little one, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.” You hated the way the words made your stomach clench; he said it because you were younger than him, smaller than him. He was a protector and you were something he protected. “Go wash up, I’ll get the medical kit.” 

Heaving a sigh you looked down at your legs avoiding his piercing golden eyes. “Fine.” Voice soft you sat and listened as he left your room giving you your privacy. You gave it a few minutes before you dragged your body through the cars to the bath, taking your time to wash yourself and soak in the warm water. Once you were out you felt much better and your body looked better as well as you stared at your body in your silk pajamas. 

As you made your way back to your room you saw that your door was already open, you knew it was Welt and he was waiting. Knowing it was inevitable you walked into the room and looked as he sat on your bed staring at the pictures you had that he gifted you. “I never threw any out.” 

A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he met your gaze again. “I can see that. I am glad you enjoy them.” He looked over your body looking for any outward wound. “The bath helped, I see, but you are still wounded. Sit down and let me tend to them.” 

Heat rushed your body as you unwillingly went to the bed sitting next to him. His slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, the ointment he wiped the wounds with stung, sucking in a sharp breath you fought back the urge to curse but the feeling soon faded as his soft lips met the tender skin. “Sorry, I should have warned you that it was going to sting.” 

Your heart rushed as you watched his lips move away from your skin, it was an unexpected reaction from him, he had never done it in the past when he tended to your wounds. “I-It’s fine.” Your voice was soft and it came out in a stutter but you didn’t want to show that it had affected you too much, in fear that he wouldn’t touch you like this again. 

“Was the mission too hard for you to do alone?” There was worry etched into his face and you could see the pain in his eyes. “I should have convinced Himeko to let me go with you, I should have known.” Reaching up to his face you cupped his warm cheeks in your hands pulling him close. “Welt, I could handle it by myself and you know that. I just got a little banged up but I came back alive and relatively safe.” 

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, then suddenly his lips were against yours. Warmth filled your body as his hand rested on the back of your neck, the leather of his gloved hand digging into the tender skin to pull you deeper into the kiss. Your body was melting into his touch, everything about Welt Yang encompassed you.

His earthy scent rushed through your nostrils, your body falling back into the soft sheets, his arm caging you in. “Welt.” You murmured against his lips. 

He pulled away and stared at you over his glasses, you could see the emotions swimming behind those brown orbs. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” He started to move off of you but you didn’t want him to leave your side. Your hands rushed to his wavy hair and your fingers tangled in the strands as you pulled him back down crashing your lips to his. 

As he let out a surprised gasp your tongue made its way into his mouth letting it explore as you kept him close to your body. Pulling away you let go of his hair giving him the option to pull away. “Never apologize for kissing me Welt, I have been waiting for you to do it for years.” 

His deep chuckle made your walls clench around nothing. “For years, are you serious?” Giving him the best deadpan look you watched him as he squirmed a little. “You are being serious.” He said the words as if he couldn’t believe it, had he ever looked in a mirror? 

Lifting your legs you wrapped them around his waist and used all your momentum to flip the two of you so you straddled him, pinning his hands above his head. “Trust me, I have wanted much more than just a kiss from you.” Letting out a little half truth you let out a little gasp as he adjusted his hips pressing his hardening cock to your core. 

“Trust me little one, I have thought about a lot of other things to do with you.” With his admission you let a smirk tug at your lips. The fact that he wanted you as much as you wanted him sent a fire through you. Remotely locking the door to your room your hands made quick work to strip the thin shirt and shorts you had on. “You are still injured, are you sure about this?” 

You glared down at him, it was sweet he was trying to make sure that your body was safe from what could happen to you while having sex but you didn’t care. “If you do not fuck me right now, you will never get the chance to do it again.” 

Something flashed in his eyes at the threat, it was like he was a predator hunting you as his prey; it had served as a long enough distraction. His gloved hand came down on your ass roughly, sending shivers up your body. Without having much time to react another smack came to your already reddining cheek. “Don’t make such threats to me, little one.” 

“No surprise that the old man is into spanking.” You teased drawing your bottom lip into your mouth, you knew it would cause more punishment but when it came from him it only served to arouse you even more. He had to feel the wet patch growing in your panties right above the cock you had wanted for so long. 

The smirk that pulled his lips up made you know you were in for a whole new world of pleasure. “You have no idea what I am into my star.” With that your back hit your bed and your bra was easily discarded to the side; when the hell did he take your bra off?!

His hands made work of his shirt and while his eyes were distracted you slipped your panties to the side and used shaking fingers to spread your lips giving him a full view of your dripping greedy hole. “Come and fuck me, old man.” 

That seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back. His pants and boxers thrown haphazardly to join your clothing, his gloved middle finger brushed against your clit as he ripped your panties off. Ripped. The raw strength he showed made you shiver. “The glove stays on? How kinky of you.” You teased him as if it didn’t turn you on. 

He hummed in agreement as his thumb replaced his middle finger, rubbing quick and tight circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves, it was not enough you had to feel more of him. 

As if Welt could read your mind he slowly inserted a finger into your pussy, just the one made your eyes roll back as you moaned to the stars outside of your window, your eyes quickly shut in pleasure as you felt the stretch as another finger fell into place next to his other one. How could he make you feel this way with just two fingers? 

His thumb moved away from your clit causing a whine to escape your lips but it was soon replaced with another moan as his tongue replaced it working in tandem with his fingers thrusting inside you without a care in the world. 

Suddenly your eyes were filled with stars as your orgasam crashed over you faster than any other orgasam had hit you. The way he pulled it out of you made you dizzy. How could he have done that? How could he have made it happen so fast? What the fuck was he? 

Trying to gain control of your body as you stared at him as he climbed over you, the look in his eyes told you that you weren’t going on an expedition anytime soon. “Don’t regret the decisions you've made to get to this spot.” His words came out as a growl, commanding your legs to spread for him; the brat inside you dying quickly at the sight of his long cock came into view. The first word that came to mind was long, oh Aeons it was long. But it was thick as well, not too girthy that you were scared it would not fit but it was going to stretch you out and you knew you would feel it for days.

With a baited breath you watched as he took the base of his cock and lined the tip with your begging hole. His eyes met yours as if silently asking for one last time for permission. Giving him a nod you gripped onto his forearm bracing yourself. 

His hips slowly inched towards yours as he started to sink himself inside you. The stretch was nice and slow, giving you plenty of time to adjust to him. The feeling of him inside you was pleasurable enough but the fact that he was only halfway in and you felt like he was in your throat already made your head spin. “A-aeons Welt, how do you walk around with that thing?”

Trying to make light of the pressure growing in your core you wanted a distraction so you wouldn’t come all over his wonderful dick before he even started to move! 

He laughed, Welt actually laughed as his hand came and cupped your face. “If you need a minute to adjust just say so. We take this at your pace.” God he was so sweet, but that was not the issue here.

“You’re only halfway inside and it feels like you're in my throat.” You protested as your back arched off your bed, your body screaming for more while your mind begged to have him pull out just a little. 

The look in his eyes showed that you just signed your soul away to him. Instantly he pulled out fully from you and just as you took a breath he thrusted back inside you burying himself completely inside your waiting pussy. You tried to scream but you couldn’t get any noise out as you stared into those eyes that soaked in your pleasure. “What’s wrong, my star? Too much?” 

Taking in a deep breath you didn’t know you were hiding you went to snap back at him but he set a brutal pace of hard and slow thrusts as he held your hips down. It was too much but not enough at the same time. “F-Fuck Welt!” 

“That’s right, scream my name.” A smirk pulled at his lips making your walls shudder around his length, the dominating force that he exuded made your brain turn to mush. He is so kind and gentle but this was not the Welt you knew, and you loved it. Reaching down you tried to rub at your clit but your hand was smacked away. “No touching, only I can touch this pretty pussy.” 

With those simple words you lost all inhibitions to rebel or snap at him, all you could focus on was him and the cock that brought you so much pleasure. Wanton moans filled the room along with the lewd sounds of your passionate love making, despite him being rough with you you could feel the passion and caring he put into every roll of his hips. 

Tears pricked your eyes as the tip of his cock brushed against the most sensitive spot inside you, all you needed was him to touch your clit and you would come undone around him. You wanted the release for your own pleasure but you also wanted it for him, for him to learn how to play your body and make you his in full. 

“Squeezing me so tight.” His chuckle made your walls clench even tighter around him but he pulled out of you fully leaving you so empty. 

“B-but I was so close!” Your whine was so hoarse as you reached down for him, he said you couldn't touch yourself he never said you couldn’t touch him. The tips of your fingers brushed against the flushed head of his wet cock, your essence made it so shiny and slippery, you had to get it back inside you right now.

“What are you doing, my star?” He only watched as you managed to wrap your hand around his length and guided it back to your entrance. You knew he wouldn’t give it to you willingly, you had to coax him into giving you what you wanted. 

Heat rushed through your body as you nudged the tip against your clit, the little bundle of nerves tingling just feeling some type of friction. “I want to cum on your cock. Please let me.” 

It was like something snapped at just the notion that you wanted him to give you your release, your hands were moved away from his body as your world twisted. Looking at the full length mirror as welt kneeled behind you, his strong hands gripped your hips tugging them into the air presenting your ass to him. 

Your whole body shook as one of his hands came down smacking your sensitive pussy, you expected pain but the moan that rushed through your throat gave into the pleasure at the feeling. All you could do was watch through the mirror with hooded eyes as he readjusted behind you, the intense feeling of his cock ramming into you fully made your eyes roll back. 

Gripping onto the bedding tightly you moaned as he used your body for his pleasure, his glasses at the tip of his nose while his eyes never left the area where the two of you were connected. “My slutty girl, so wet at the thought of being able to orgasam.” 

He wasn’t wrong, you wanted it so bad, you wanted Welt to take you there. “Please please please!” You weakly begged as you tried to match his pace, moving your hips back to meet his hips, pulling him in deeper. 

“Say my name and I’ll let you cum.” The growl alone was enough to have the coil in your core tighten unbearably painful. 

“Welt, please let me cum!” You moaned, each syllable being jumbled matching the rough thrusts he gave you, the angle made all the blood rush to your head as his hand gripped your hip and the gloved one reached down past his cock rubbing circles against your clit. 

White blinded you as the coil snapped and your orgasam brought you to your mental knees, with your ears ringing you vaguely heard Welt grunt and groan behind you as his thrusts got sloppy and warmth filled you as he let himself reach his orgasam. 

As soon as he pulled out of your abused pussy your body crumpled, bare, sweaty and with his cum starting to leak out his fingers reached down scooping up what was trying to escape and thrusted his fingers back into you keeping everything inside. 

“We aren’t finished yet my star.” His seductive voice was gruff in your ear; you couldn’t help but let out a moan with the feeling of his messy gloved fingers deep inside you. “How long will it take for your body to give up on me?”

[howlingday]

Years Later...

Blake: (Writing)

Kid: Mommy, what are you writing?

Blake: These are memoirs. It's the story of my life.

Kid: What's the story of your life?

Blake: I dunno. I might do another draft...

Kid: Mommy, is fuck a bad word?

Blake: ...

Blake: Yes. (Doorbell rings) Come in!

Weiss: (Enters) Hello, Blake, and hello,kid~! Guess what Auntie Weiss brought for you~!

Blake: Weiss, she already has enough toys-

Weiss: (Pulls out gift) Oh, it's fine, Blake.

Blake: Seriously, I live in the biggest house in Menagerie and I'm still running out of space for them!

Weiss: You're exaggerating. Besides, I know for a fact that she doesn't have this toy~! (Hands over gift) I have a list, you know.

Blake: Is that the Wild Queen playset? Her grandma bought it.

Weiss: Why doesn't your mom ever coordinate with me?

Blake: (Window shatters) OH MY GOD!

Ruby: (Giggling) Whoops!

Blake: Ruby Rose!

Ruby: Hey, Blake!

Blake: I thought I told you to stop doing that! You could have hit my kid!

Ruby: Wait, you have a kid?

Blake: Yes! You met her!

Ruby: Oh yeah~!

Blake: Why are you here, smashing through my windows?

Ruby: Well, Ozpin and Maria said my eyes might be going, because I thought that window was wide open.

Weiss: I invited her.

Blake: Why?

Weiss: It's been too long since we've had a soiree with the old gang.

Blake: I hate soirees!

Weiss: I know. That's why I'M setting it up!

Ruby: Is Team RWBY getting back together? Let's grab Jaune and Ren and Nora do a big old adventure with them!

Blake: I already told you she's not invited anymore, and besides, didn't you throw your back out on the last adventure?

Ruby: Ah, that was three years ago! I'm all good now!

Blake: (Knocking heard) What?! Come in!

Yang: (Enters) You! Ruby Rose!

Ruby: Hi, Yang!

Yang: For the past three years, I've been seeing you going on dates with every boy you can get your hands on in the tabloids, and I want the truth!

Weiss: Can you even handle the truth?

Yang: Care to explain?!

Weiss: I don't think you can.

Yang: Because I introduced you to some guys, and you told the press, "Oh, yeah, my sister just loves hooking me up with her guy friends!"

Ruby: You do, though! Why else would you help me make more friends?

Yang: Then why didn't you phrase it like that?!

Blake: Hi, Yang.

Yang: Hi, Blake. (Back on Ruby) I've been getting messages and letters and everything else from all my guy friends and guys I've never even met, and every morning, Dad gives me this side-eye of sheer disappointment! Like it's my fault, or something!

Weiss: You know, you could use those guy friends, too.

Yang: Oh, please, Weiss, like you know anything about being a good sibling! Winter has pretty much banned you from Atlas, and your brother probably doesn't even know if you're alive or dead at this point!

Weiss: Nice try, but I call my siblings every month.

Yang: Yeah? I talk to Ruby every week, because I know for a fact that I'm not too busy to talk to her! And what exactly are you too busy to talk to them for these days? Killing Grimm- nope, they're all dead. Running the SDC- nope, your brother is in charge. Having a family- nope, you're just inserting yourself into everyone else's lives!

Weiss: Well, at least I have options of men and women to choose from. You don't see me getting asked for a hook up with my siblings.

Kid: Auntie Weiss, is fuck a bad word?

Weiss: Oh gods, did I just drop an f-bomb?

Weiss: No, sweetie~! I said flop!

Kid: Is flop a bad word?

Blake: She learned it from a kid at school.

Weiss: Oh.

Blake: (Lights flicker) Oh no...

Nora: (Rises from nothing) BEHOLD, THE ALMIGHTY NO'RA! YES!

Blake: No!

Nora: NO'RA HAS BECOME THE ONE TRUE ELDRITCH CREATURE OF THE WORLD OF REMNANT! Now you have to say yes to a date with me! Our destiny is written in the fading lights of the stars!

Blake: You're already married to Ren AND I have a restraining order against you! You're not allowed to be here!

Nora: FOOOOL! YES! NO'RA has infinite time to study law! NO'RA will crush your restraining order!

Blake: Vrbr Ktah.

Nora: Huh? "Go away-" (On fire) AGH! AAAAAAAGH!

Blake: THAT'S IT! EVERYONE OUT! GO!

Weiss: But Blake, we haven't ordered drinks yet!

Blake: I don't drink anymore!

Weiss: But I thought that was for the pregnancy!

Yang: Thank you for having us, Blake. (Everyone leaves)

Blake: (Hears knocking) WHAT?!

Pyrrha: (Sheepishly enters) Uh, I'm here because-

Blake: The sign says no solicitors!

Pyrrha: (Leaves)

Kid: Mommy? Is fuck a bad word?

Blake: Yes.

[kharmii]

[baxiabells]

May I request a OC x Canon ship? It's called XunYang (Wen Xun x Xue Yang) and if you look up the xunyang tag you can find refs for it! It's super cute, I promise!

i havent read dawn chorus as of yet but all the art ive seen for it has been Adorable.. went with a different xue yang design for this one to match with the fic :3 they were really fun to draw!

[tsarisfanfiction]

And So We Tangled Back Together

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Gen Genre: Friendship Characters: Clarisse, Michael, Sherman He'd been dead for two years. For two fucking years. But Sherman could see the ghost, too, and her hand didn't go through him when she reached out. Also related/a sequel to Dawn Rises From The East, although full knowledge of that shouldn't be needed as long as you know it's a Michael Lives!AU where Michael was amnesiac for two years - a few people, including me, really wanted the Michael&Clarisse reunion, so I finally got around to writing it! I have a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi!

Clarisse hurried up the hill, past the golden fleece and the sleepy Peleus, her spear clutched in one hand.

Sherman had been vague, when he’d IM’d her a few days earlier, telling her that she had to get to camp now and refusing to elaborate beyond assurances that there was not another war starting, Apollo had not ended up mortal for a third time, and no-one had died, and Clarisse didn’t like it.  She didn’t like not knowing, didn’t like the urgency in her younger brother’s voice, didn’t like the way he hadn’t seemed to be able to make his mind up on whether or not whatever needed her presence was a good thing or not.

He'd been excited, but in a subdued fashion, and anything that made Sherman subdued was not normally good news.  Things that made him excited…  Well, that was also a short list and combat-related activities normally topped it.  He was a son of Ares.

Being summoned mid-week, just as college was due to start for the fall, was concerning, and she hated that Chris hadn’t been able to come with her – his nursing course didn’t allow for things like summer breaks, and he didn’t have any days off he could take until next month, and Clarisse hadn’t been willing to wait that long when Sherman wanted her at camp now.

She missed his solid presence at her side, though.  With so much uncertainty, she could have done with it.

Sherman was waiting for her at the entrance to camp, where the ancient archway still stood and welcomed demigods into camp, the same way it had done for the years she’d lived there.  His back was ramrod straight, and his arms were crossed.  Tension screamed out from the set of his shoulders, and he had a new scar zig-zagging its way down his face since the last time Clarisse had seen him in person.

She hadn’t got the story out of him during their last IM, when she’d first seen it, and that either meant it was an embarrassing scar, or whatever Sherman had summoned her for was more distracting than showing off his latest badge of honour.

Clarisse hoped it was the former, and not just because it was her duty as his older sister to mock him for stupid scars, and get payback for all the years where he’d been a little shit, before the war – the first war, against Kronos, because they’d been through two together and word had it that there had been more battles during Apollo’s mortal phase that she’d missed and Sherman hadn’t – had sobered him up and he stopped challenging her for the rights to lead the cabin every other day.

“Report!” she barked at him as her march came to a stop in front of him.  He’d grown again; she had to look up a little, and Clarisse herself wasn’t short.  “What the fuck needed me here?”

She glanced past him, at the camp, and couldn’t see anything wrong.  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and that didn’t track with Sherman’s posture, or the fact that he’d insisted she come at all.

“It’s…” he started, stopped, and gritted his teeth, although he didn’t look away from her.  “It’s Michael.”

Michael?

The name immediately brought to mind fucking red and gold fletched arrows, shouts and insults, a figure too small for his age but with enough of attitude to more than make up the difference.

It had been two years since Manhattan, since she’d finally caught sight of all the Apollo campers – the surviving Apollo campers – and realised the short bastard was missing.  When she’d looked for him and heard that he’d fucking died, that there wasn’t even a body to burn.

Two years since she’d watched an empty golden shroud burn and cursed him for doing what she’d told him to for the first time in their lives as black guilt coiled in her gut.  She’d told him to die and he’d done exactly that, taking out a bridge in the process and halting Kronos’ advance, bought time for the rest of his siblings to flee to safety.

Two years since he’d sacrificed his life to protect his siblings and Clarisse had discovered the hard way that the bastard had shot his own fucking hole in her heart and that with him gone, there was a gap in her life that she’d never even noticed he’d filled until he didn’t, anymore.

But Michael was a common fucking name, and after two years there was no reason to bring him up again, so it had to be someone else, some other Michael-

“It’s him,” Sherman said, clearly reading at least some of her thoughts on her face, and Clarisse scowled as he continued.  “Michael Yew.”

Hearing his name, his name with no room for misinterpretation, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“The bastard died two fucking years ago,” she snapped, because Michael was complicated and Sherman knew she’d fucking mourned him already, in the privacy of their cabin late at night when most of them were trapped in nightmares and she couldn’t even fall asleep – didn’t need to, when it felt like the nightmares hadn’t bothered to fucking wait.  “Why the fuck are you calling me to talk about that short asshole that went and got himself killed like a fucking imbecile two years later?”

“Nice to see you again, too, bitch.”

The voice came from behind her, and up a little bit, and it was familiar, not just the sound of it which had haunted her memories and her nightmares for years, but the direction, too.

She whirled around, spear igniting out of habit and crackling in her ear as her eyes fell on Thalia’s old fucking tree, and the small figure perching in the lower branches, looking like he belonged there.

The fucking ghost perching in the lower branches.

Clarisse crossed the distance to the tree in the blink of an eye, her spear still crackling as she glared up at the apparition.  Behind her, Sherman let out a string of curses, making it clear that he saw him, too, so Clarisse wasn’t fucking hallucinating.

“I was going to tell her first!” he was growling up at the tree, but the small bastard perched there wasn’t even looking at him.  Familiar dark brown eyes, glinting the slightest tint golden in the sunlight, were glued to Clarisse.  Too familiar.

“Get the fuck out that tree,” she ordered, because it hurt, seeing him in the tree as though he’d always fucking been there, and also because she couldn’t see him properly, couldn’t be certain-

“Turn that thing off first,” he demanded, with a sharp glance at her spear.  “I’m not getting fucking electrocuted.”

Two years ago, Clarisse would never have done anything the bastard asked, but she needed fucking answers and she didn’t need the electricity active to skewer the bastard if this was wrong, if it all was all fucking wrong.  A flick of her wrist and she had the electricity deactivated, but she didn’t relax her grip on the weapon.

“Down,” she growled, and he dropped to the ground, barely disturbing the pine needles in the process, because the bastard had always been able to move through the trees like a fucking ghost.

He didn’t look like her memories.  Not quite.  His hair was longer, and his face gaunter, devoid of the teenage softness that he hadn’t quite lost entirely by Manhattan but seemed to be long gone, now.  His clothes didn’t quite hang right, not a perfect fit but more like he’d lost weight – like Chris had been, in the aftermath of the Labyrinth.

He looked older, but it had been two years.  Of fucking course he looked older.

He’d fucking grown, too, still a short fucking bastard but not as short as Clarisse remembered, another inch or two added to his height since she’d last seen him.

He was still a good foot shorter than her, though, and the way he looked up at her, chin tilted but always defiant, always challenging, never deferring, was the same it always had been, except there was a look hiding in the depths of his eyes that Clarisse could recognise, because it was coursing through her, too.

Fucking uncertainty.

Clarisse did not like being uncertain.

She lashed out with her empty hand and he was quick, had always been quick, but not quick enough to completely evade her at that range as she grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and bodily dragged him closer.

He’d never weighed much, by virtue of being so fucking tiny, but he was still a solid body and the resistance that fought against her was grounding.

He was there.

She was actually gripping Michael fucking Yew’s collar.  Two years after he’d fucking died.

Except there hadn’t been a body, and shit.

He was tugging back, glaring at her as he fought for his freedom, but it wasn’t anything like the struggles he used to do if she caught him.  It felt more performative than genuine, and the look in his eyes, that flicker of uncertainty was still there.

Clarisse leant her spear against the trunk of the tree and gripped him with her other hand, too, vaguely aware that he was straining on his tip-toes and that she was bearing a considerable percentage of his weight.  His hands wrapped around her wrists, tight enough to bruise, but she ignored them.

“Fucking answers,” she spat, leaning into his face.  “What the fuck, you bastard?  Two fucking years and you show your ferrety-ass face again?”

He bared his teeth in a snarl and it was familiar.  Normal.

Except that look in his eyes hadn’t gone away entirely.

“Clarisse!”  More hands joined Michael’s, and Sherman pushed her back, enough that she wasn’t in Michael’s face anymore even though she still had a solid grip on him and wasn’t letting go until she got her answers.  “Damn it, Michael, this was why I was going to tell her first!”

“She’s hearing it from me,” Michael snapped back, and Clarisse agreed with him.  Sherman meant well, but this had never been his fight.

“Back off, Sherman,” she warned, not looking away from Michael.  “Michael, talk.”

“Let go of me,” the son of Apollo shot back, but his fingers were still digging into Clarisse’s wrists, the grip white-knuckled, and Clarisse got the sudden, bizarre thought that she wasn’t the only one using physical contact to ground herself.

Had she been a hole for Michael, too?  But that didn’t make fucking sense, and even if it did, Michael had been the one missing.  She’d been at camp for another fucking year before leaving, easy to find if he’d just fucking tried.

She pushed him back, against the bark of the tree next to where her spear leaned, but let his feet fall flat on the ground again.  She didn’t let go, though, and nor did Michael.

“Talk,” she demanded, ignoring Sherman as he grumbled something and backed away.  He had always been smart enough to know when he wasn’t wanted, even if he was usually enough of a little shit to ignore it.

Michael glared at her, looking pointedly at her grip on his collar, but he spoke anyway, and Clarisse was not prepared for the answer.

“Traumatic amnesia,” he said shortly, daring her to challenge him.  It was absurd but it fit.  “When I fell from that fucking bridge I lost everything.  Didn’t even know my own fucking name.”

Clarisse remembered Chris, remembered the way he barely knew who he was, the way he didn’t recognise anyone, didn’t recognise her.  It hadn’t quite been amnesia but parts of it might as well have been.

Even two years ago, when she told Michael to fucking die, she wouldn’t have wished anything like that on anyone, not even Michael.

But it fucking fit, because Michael was an asshole but he would never put his siblings through that shit, never let them think he was dead if he had any say in the matter.  Not before Lee’s death, and definitely not after it.

If Clarisse was honest, Michael wouldn’t even pull that shit on her.  He was a sneaky bastard that loved to creep around in trees and hide and ambush with his fucking arrows out of nowhere, but faking his own death wasn’t his style.

“Where were you?” she demanded, because he had to be somewhere for the past two fucking years.

He had the audacity to fucking shrug at her, despite the grip she still had on his collar.  “Homeless.”

“For two fucking years?” Clarisse pressed, because homelessness and demigods was a common combination but it was also a dangerous combination.

It did explain why he’d lost weight, though.

“Yeah,” Michael confirmed, but he was defensive about it, a challenge in his eyes that looked familiar.  His what are you going to do about it challenge.  “Will found me three weeks ago.”

Three weeks.

Michael had been on the streets for two fucking years, and amnesiac the whole time, because if he hadn’t been he’d have found his own way straight back to camp.

Fuck.

“Fucking bastard,” she mumbled, but even she could tell there was no heat in her voice.  “You- fuck.  Mr D get your head back on?”

Michael’s face twisted into something that didn’t look happy.

“They came back on their own after Will found me,” he said, and Clarisse was no expert but two years of amnesia and everything coming back just like that didn’t sound right.

“What the fuck?” she demanded, and Michael still didn’t look happy.

“I don’t fucking know,” he snapped, and his grip on her wrists loosened, less restraining and more starting to push her away again.  She still didn’t let go, didn’t think she could let go.  “Get off me.”

“Clarisse-” Sherman said from behind her, but she ignored him.  She ignored Michael giving up on prying her hands away and shoving at her chest, too.  He’d never had the strength to overpower her, and that hadn’t changed.

Instead, she stepped in closer, towering over him and leaning the top of her head against the tree.

“You were fucking dead,” she said, and it was a good thing that the only people around were Michael and Sherman, because there weren’t many people she was comfortable letting down any walls around, and Michael didn’t make the list except this was about him and she had two years’ worth of guilt-laden grief that she’d never thought would have anywhere to go.  “I told you to die.”

Michael stopped trying to shove her away, his hands finding her biceps and resting there instead, not gripping tightly like he had been, earlier, but not trying to pry her off, either.

“I know,” he said, and it was calm, calmer than Michael usually was.  The fact that it wasn’t an argument, that he’d agreed with her was strange, too.  Wrong.  “I said some fucking stupid shit, too.”

He sounded tired, and strained.  It was probably the closest thing he’d ever said to an apology, to her.

Except it wasn’t, because he’d given her the chariot, back then, calling for a truce, asking for help, and she’d thrown it back in his face.  He’d only turned nasty after that, when she’d rejected the words but taken the chariot anyway, and even looking back she didn’t think the truce had been a true apology rather than a last ditch attempt to get the Ares cabin to fight, but in the weeks, months, years since, she’d realised how big even that had been, for Michael.

She’d been scared.  It had taken her time to admit it even to herself, but she had been scared.  It had taken her longer to realise, to accept that Michael had been scared, too.  Scared enough to ask her for help, but she hadn’t recognised it – and even if she had, she didn’t have enough faith in her younger self to think she’d have done anything different if she had.

“You bastard,” she grumbled, but it didn’t have any heat in it.

Nor did Michael’s returned, “bitch.”

She still didn’t let go of him, although her grip relaxed, fingers tangled in fabric with no desire to find their way out.  Michael didn’t start pushing her away again, either, his hands falling down by his sides as he leant back against the tree.

That wasn’t right, either.  Michael didn’t do that, but then Clarisse didn’t just stand there, loosely holding onto him with no intention of a fight, either.

But ten minutes ago, she’d thought he was dead.  She’d spent two fucking years believing him dead, living with the echoes of their last argument in her ears.

She didn’t think she wanted their arguments to resume again.  Not after how they’d ended last time.  Michael wasn’t spoiling for a fight, either, as passive around her as she’d ever seen him, and she thought that maybe, just maybe, they were in agreement for once.

What she didn’t know was what to do about it.  They didn’t do agreements, didn’t do civility.  They’d never managed that, always needed a buffer between them – it was no coincidence that their arguments had worsened after Lee’s death.

Sherman was still there.  She could feel his silent gaze on the back of her head, observing but not saying anything.  He’d never been enough to stop their arguments before; she didn’t think he’d manage now, either, if they started.

But he’d seen her mourning Michael, two years ago, and she’d been worried then about losing his respect, which she’d had to fight so hard to earn in the first place, but he hadn’t turned on her then, and two years on, she knew he wouldn’t turn on her now.  It mattered less now, anyway.  She was still his big sister but she wasn’t head counsellor, not anymore.

“Don’t fucking do that again,” she muttered, and felt Michael freeze.  “I thought you were fucking dead,” she added, the words spilling out before her brain could catch up.  “Dead, you bastard.”

Michael shifted, still trapped between her body and the tree, but it still wasn’t a fight to escape.  Instead, Clarisse felt a light pressure on her chest as his head leant forwards.

“I’m not dead,” he said, stating the fucking obvious, but it was tired, Michael was tired.

Clarisse was tired, too.  Too tired to turn it into an argument when it was obvious that Michael wasn’t angling for one.

“You fucking bastard,” she said flatly.  It wasn’t an apology, she wasn’t quite ready to apologise for the shit from two years ago even though she knew she needed to, but it was something and the way the weight increased against her chest told her that Michael understood.

She still wasn’t prepared for the word he mumbled, barely audible.  Just one word, a question and an offer and a promise all at once, and Clarisse couldn’t say no.  Should’ve said yes years ago, when there was a chariot between them, had regretted it in the years since and never expected to be faced with it again.

“Truce?”

Clarisse didn’t plan on making the same mistake twice.

“Yeah,” she said, and her hands finally fell from Michael’s collar.  “Truce.”

[breath-of-void]

Korra should not be losing fights

My friends have a theory: any long enough conversation with me will eventually devolve into my complaining about the Legend of Korra.

I have come to the conclusion that the story of the Avatar should never be about a physical fight. By nature of what they are and the power system of the verse, the Avatar should not be able to lose a one-on-one fight. 

What I mean by this is that bending is more about technique than anything else; it’s like fighting in the real world, there is a benefit to being stronger but there’s only so strong you can physically get. The inclusion of elemental abilities even negates that to a point because, at a certain point, it doesn’t matter how big the rock you get hit by is. The Avatar is the amalgamation of thousands of benders, their techniques and strength all rolled into one. Every avatar is, by nature, stronger than the avatar before them because they have that previous avatar’s knowledge and strength. And if there is somehow a reason they can’t figure something out, they can just bring forth that avatar to fight on their behalf. My point is, there is not a single bender alive that can fight an avatar and win.

The journey of the avatar is a philosophical one. They are, at the end of the day, human, and are prone to mistakes and they are given a job so massive that it takes more than one lifetime to accomplish: balance the world. 

Aang’s story was simple. He existed in a time of war and so his job was unequivocally to stop the genocidal maniac leading the Fire Nation. Throughout his series we see hints at a subtler, more difficult thread of conflict that requires his attention (warring Earth Kingdom clans, indoctrination of the Fire Nation youth, sexism in the Water Tribe, etc) but because Ozai has always been the big threat, that’s what he focused on and no one could blame him. About half way through though, it kind of stopped being about whether or not he could beat Ozai, but whether or not he could do it without killing him. The Avatar State is a tactical nuke in the shape of a person, it’s what people were trying to draw out of him at the start of book 2 and, in truth, the moment it came out, it stopped being a fight and started being an asswhooping of truly cosmic proportions. 

So what’s my point? My point is that Korra’s series started out the right way but devolved into fights she should have easily won. 

Book 1 and half of book 2 of the Legend of Korra are amazing because they aren’t quite focused on whether or not Korra can beat the villain, but whether or not she can win the people. The nonbender revolution is honestly one of the best bits of either series because it’s a really good point that people without powers are at a HUGE disadvantage against people with powers (in fights and in just normal everyday living) and how they feel about their spiritual leader being a bender. Korra’s first statement to a group of nonbenders complaining about the disparity in society is that bending is cool so they should be quiet. It’s an interesting thing to explore. They we have book 2 where the Northern and Southern Water Tribes are at war and Korra has to pick a side. Whatever side she picks 1) is going to win, she’s, as I said before, way too powerful, and 2) going to send a message that the spirits favour them. It was really good stuff!

Then they turned it into a question of whether or not Korra could beat Unalaq. Yes, yes she could, there was no reason for her to have lost that fight. Unalaq might have been a better waterbender than her, but she was a much better firebender than him. And earthbender and airbender. As well, he might eclipse Korra herself in waterbending, but he’s not better than Aang or Roku or Kyoshi and spirits forbid Kuruk. In a 1v1 with her having full access to the avatar state, Unalaq should have lost even after he acquired Vaatu. 

It’s not that I think Korra is weak, it’s that she shouldn’t be weak. Losing to any of the mediocre benders in her story was unacceptable the from the moment she unlocked the avatar state. I will make a special consideration of Kuvira as fighting against metalbending is hard on a good day and against Kuvira’s particular creative use of metalbanding, it’s a chore. She should have demolished Zaheer and his cronies though.

I’m not unreasonable. I can accept P’Li and Kuvira (the first time) being a challenging fight, but, as the title says, Korra should not be losing fights.