#proof if she doesn’t have height she doesn’t have anything

[bueckersstrap]

😬😬 the difference in stats is hilarious

[sgrplumditz]

Blame the storm. (Simon Riley)

“Fuck you, Riley” she scoffs. Her hands heavy and aggressive while she removes her tactical gear. She’s angry, tired — no, exhausted from being out in the field for the last two weeks. And it definitely doesn’t help that her bullet proof vest tugs and chafes on the back of her neck from all the weight she carries. She’s got many reasons to be angry, but nothing infuriates her more than being underestimated, “You used me as bait” she continues as she finally rips off the vest that’s been tugging at the already red and sensitive skin — she doesn’t make her case any better when she begins rubbing the area with urgency. “Practically got me killed, but anything as long as the original four are fine, right? You unbearable prick” her words dripping with venom. She was fed up with him, she was able to tolerate him for the two years she’s been on the task force, but one can only poke the tigress so many times before she reacts. Captian Price, Soap and Gaz had witnessed the pair bicker back and forth plenty of times — it was nothing new. The three gave themselves a subtle glance as they exited the debriefing room well after the meeting had ended. The only one that seemed to have enough energy to utter words for argument was her, and the only one willing to listen was him.

“You’ve hardly got a scratch on you” is his reply. His tone flat and distant as his eyes are set onto her, watching her emotions get the better of her. “Your priority is the mission. Our priority is the mission. Everything went fine”, he added. His tone now tinged with annoyance. Of course, she is not surprised by his response. She expected his devaluing of her experience.

she continues angrily rubbing the back of her neck in frustration. He was right — and she hated that he was. If it wasn’t for the dried blood tainting the outside of her ears, the rash on the back of her neck and the pounding headache all from the commotion from the two weeks spent in the field, she would be completely unharmed. But that wasn’t enough to soothe her anger. She still couldn’t believe that he would take it as far as he did, placing her in a predicament that only put her in danger. Sending her into a house that hadn’t been cleared in an area where they were surrounded was a new low for Simon — at least that’s what she thought. “Unbelievable. You don’t even bother to pretend that you at least tolerate me being on this task force. I could have died” she said with gritted teeth. Her eyes landing on an unopened bottle of water on the oval table in the room. With one hand still aggravating the tender skin, and her other hand reaching for the bottle she was fully prepared to throw it at him.

Before she could even feel the bottle leave her hand, Simon had stood up and approached her. His height allowing him to take long strides. His hands firmly wrapping around her wrists. His grip strong, but not strong enough to harm her, but firm enough to make her release the bottle. “Look at yourself” he said as he placed both of her wrists into one hand, using his now unoccupied hand to hold her chin, turning her head to the left. Simon leaned in slightly to look at the redness on her neck, a low and soft growl escaping his lips as he realized how undone she had become, “What you need is rest. Save your breath and quit biting my damn ankles”.

She scoffs, “Stop pretending as if you care about a single hair on my head. And let me go”

“Let you go and let you spiral even further?” he asks his tone tinged in annoyance and slight concern. The rolling of her eyes prying more words out of him, “You think I sent you in that house thinking you wouldn’t be able to handle yourself? Don’t be so bloody dense. A reminder that you’re not here just because you’ve got a pretty face, Sweetheart” the muscles in her jaw relax slightly as he tugs her wrists closer to his chest, causing her frame to jolt closer to his. His gaze sharp as he looked down at her, their difference in size more noticeable now that they were in such close proximity, “You think I’d let anyone lay a hand on you? Especially those waste of space pigs? God help them if anything had happened to you”

Her eyes soften with curiosity and her breathing mellows as Simon reassures her. “As long as I live, nobody lays a hand on you, nobody touches you, nobody even stares in your general direction” he continues. His grip relaxed around her wrists, but still she did not bother to move. They both stood in silence staring at each other with a gaze that is unfamiliar to the both of them.

He suddenly steps away from her, his hands coming up to his balaclava. With one swift movement he pulls it off his head revealing the dirty blonde locks stiff with dried sweat. Simon runs a frustrated hand over his face as he stared at the floor, “Leave your neck alone will you?” is all he says to her before leaving the room with urgency.

—————-

Several days have passed since their unusual interaction. A part of her was relived that they had received a week off to rest and recover from the their mission, but the other half of her wanted answers. She had so many unanswered questions about Simon’s words, but avoidance was her best trait. She had been spending the last few days avoiding Simon as much as she possible. Considering that they lived in the same apartment building she found herself successful for the time being.

But she hated being indoors. She was growing restless by the minute. “Who needs that much rest anyway?” she shrugged as she tied her running shoes. A run would suit her best. She would get some fresh air, release some pent up energy, and the sun was setting, so she would have a nice view without the sunburn.

——————

Nobody lays a hand on you. Simon’s words repeated in her head over and over. Nobody looks in your general direction.As if the pace of her breathing matched the pace of his words ruling over her mind. The now scabbed over rash on her neck stung from the sweat dripping over it, the sensation snapping her back to reality. She glanced at her watch noticing the time — she had been running at a controlled pace for an hour and a half. Her body was drenched in sweat as she stepped inside her building. While waiting for the elevator she took notice of a familiar scent — his scent.

“Late night run?” muttered Simon in his usual flat and disinterested tone. They both stepped into the elevator.

“Yeah. I got enough rest” she responded cordially, “and I hate being stuck inside”.

She felt Simon’s icy stare run down her sweat covered body. Suddenly she realized how revealing her outfit was. A black sports bra with white running shorts is all she had on. Simon only released a subtle “Hm” as he took in her appearance, “You went out at night in that?” he questioned her pointedly — no hesitation in his words.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his question. The one time she thought they could have a civil conversation he completely ruined, “Yes. This. There’s nothing wrong with my choice of clothing” she muttered with annoyance now coating her verbiage. She was bothered by his choice, obviously. She figured he was underestimating her, “I can take care of myself”.

“Never said you couldn’t. You’re more than capable” he shrugged as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, “Just making an observation”. His jaw ticked the moment he inhaled softly, as if refraining from saying more to her, but his eyes remained on her. Not in an uncomfortable, or predatory manner, but in a state of slight annoyance and possessiveness. As if she was his to look at. And for his gaze only. She could feel her pulse in her throat. There was correlation, the longer his eyes remained on her, the harder her heart beat. Her lips parted slightly and she inhaled deeply as if her body needed the extra oxygen.

The elevator door opened on their shared floor, but they both stood frozen. The tension between the pair made the air in the elevator thick, but her legs were frozen. Stuck in the same position for a few seconds as a familiar warmth settled into her core. The sound of the elevator door beginning to close shook them both out of their trance. Her breath hitched as Simon’s arm suddenly stopped the door from closing completely. He motioned a “cmon” with his hand, letting her exit first. Right before they parted ways he cleared his throat, his hands still in his pockets, “Be careful going out at night. You can handle anything just fine, but try to not to put yourself in situations that need handling”. He then casually began walking toward his apartment across the hall from hers. She hated how correct he could be. She especially hated how warm and slick he had her feeling. Simon Riley, the man that got under her skin, and right into the center of her attention.

——————

A couple days later the entire building was advised to stay inside. A hurricane had been swept into the city. It’s winds reaching over 60 miles per hours, and the streets flooding.

She sat with her mug of morning coffee watching the storm run it’s course. An uncomfortable feeling settling in on her as she realized she was stuck inside her apartment for the next few days. As if being stuck inside wasn’t bad enough, she now had no escape, not outage prepared to take on her restlessness. She wondered if he was feeling the same way. While her thoughts drifted to him there was an unfamiliar knock on her door.

She was used to being on her own whenever she wasn’t at work. With the storm booming outside, she definitely wasn’t expecting any visitors. She stood by her window in a short tank top and boy-short panties and a robe to cover herself. She sighed and wrapped the robe securely over her body as she made her way to her door. She opened it to find Simon with a bag of takeout in his hand. She hated to admit that she was pleasantly surprised, and it didn’t help her situation to see Simon’s blond hair soaked and tussled. His coat being waterproof, but nothing suitable enough for the storm raging outside.

She raised a curious eyebrow at him and patiently waited for an explanation as to why he even bothered showing up. However, the reason quickly became clear when thunder rattled the rainy skies. His demeanor was tense, and rigid. Simon who was typically calm and collected seemed panicked and slightly disturbed. She identified the signs immediately and stepped aside without muttering a word. At the end of the day they were teammates, and she wasn’t going to turn a blind eye to him struggling.

Simon stepped inside closing the door behind him and walked into the kitchen immediately. The layout of the apartment being the same as his, explaining why he knew his way around. “Why are you wet?” she finally asked as she followed closely behind. She was now watching him unpack a selection of breakfast items.

“Exposure therapy” was all he replied with — again his tone as flat as always. She wasn’t one to pry about personal struggles, so she only nodded her head and decided to take advantage of the fact that she no longer had to cook herself breakfast.

————

Couple of hours had passed and the storm only seemed to worsen. She had closed her blinds a few minutes into Simon being at her apartment. She spent a fortune on sound proof and blackout curtains when she realized that her apartment overlooked a popular bar. Something she was more and more grateful for everyday. She was sure Simon was relieved now that the sounds of thunder had become a dulled rumbling in the distance thanks to them.

They both settled on the couch in silence. Their eyes landing on one another every few seconds. It was clear neither of them were used to having visitors or being a visitor, but oddly enough having each other during the storm was comforting.

Comforting until her thoughts strayed to the night after their most recent mission. The way he held her wrists. Comforting until her thoughts stayed to the night in the elevator. Simon’s thoughts also in the same well of memories. Again, she felt the familiar warm knot forming in her core.

Her robe had loosened causing it to drape over her shoulder slightly, and just like the night in the elevator Simon had the same look in his brown eyes. Annoyed, possessive and now hungry. The air in the room became thick, his eyes burning holes into hers.

She couldn’t handle it, “You gotta go. Or I have to go. This” she motioned between the two of them, “Whatever this is can’t happen”.

She stood up abruptly and walked towards him. Simon remained in a relaxed position on the couch with his legs spread open and his hips inched forward. He only stared up at her. He heard what she said loud and clear, but seeing her from that angle only made him wonder how she might look sitting on his lap, taking every inch of him. “Did you hear me?” she scoffed. Her mind telling her to stand her ground, but her body reacting to him.

Simon nodded his head as his eyes remained glued on her. Her robe now fully open while she stood directly in front of him. Simon sat up, his gaze still on her. His large and calloused hands made their way up to her hips. his thumbs massaging them with a gentle touch. His jaw muscles tightened, his eyes trailing down her body — slowly in manner that made it clear that he was admiring her — right before resting on her face. She audibly gulped, and willing took a short step closer to him. Now she stood directly in between his legs.

“You want me to go?” he questioned her while already fully aware of what her answer would be. She shook her head slowly. A slight smirk touching his full lips as he guided her to his lap. Her legs straddling him — she was exactly where he wanted her. His lips skimming her neck and collar bone, teasing her with every warm breath he let out, “Say it, Love. I want to hear it”. He beckoned her with his words. A serpent leading Eve to the forbidden fruit, “Use your words and tell me exactly what you want” he continued.

Her breath hitched, his growing member pressing on her throbbing cunt, “I-I need you to stay right here. With me” she finally answered after painfully forming her words into a cohesive sentence. Her hips desperately grinding to relieve the ache, but no that wasn’t enough. She needed him. All of him.

Simon couldn’t help but groan, her slick making it’s way past her panties and past his sweats. He couldn’t resist her anymore, he had spent years repressing himself. With ease he stood up, keeping her body in his arms and began making his way to her bedroom. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his torso.

Upon entering her neatly decorated bedroom, with her still in his arms, he slid his sweats down his legs, finally kicking them off before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. With urgency he pressed his lips onto hers, a soft “Hm” leaving his lips as she parted her lips, giving him full access to her mouth.

She tugged at the hem of his shirt before completely pulling it over his head and off to the side. With one hand he held the base of her head and entangled his finger into her hair to give him a secure grip on her and with the other he moved her panties the side and out of the way.

He lifted her temporarily before he slowly sank her aching, warm and drenched cunt onto him. Of course he took his time. He was well aware of his size and girth, and being her neighbor he knew she didn’t have guys over — as if he would ever let that happen. He guided her down slowly, and gently. He felt her walls tightly grip onto his throbbing cock, whilst simultaneously stretching around him. His brown eyes now focused on her as he watched her expressions to make sure he wasn’t harming her. Not because he was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to handle him, but because he despised watching her hurt.

Every time she thought that was all of him he would keep introducing more of himself into her. Her eyes slammed shut and her head leaned back sending her into a blissful state of pleasure and pain as her cunt molded itself around him. Small whimpers left her plump lips with each inch he filled her with. Finally she felt herself gently land on his thighs.

“Fuck” he groaned as he guided her hips into a slow and steady rhythm. Soft breaths escaped both of their lips, his face coming forward and burying into the crook of her soft neck. His arms desperately wrapping around her significantly smaller frame in a manner that made him feel like he needed her closer.

She on the other hand had an arm wrapped around his broad shoulders and the other one firmly gripping his forearm. The rhythm becoming more sloppy and desperate as each second went by. Her robe was hanging on by her elbows, the whole situation was desperate. But not in a pessimistic manner.

Simon brought a hand up to hold her neck. He wasn’t choking her, but holding her head in place. He wanted to look at her. He wanted to watch how well she was taking him. “Let me see those pretty eyes of yours” he spoke in a slurred voice. Her eyes fluttered open as she listened to his every word, “So fucking pretty” he added. Her walls began to gradually tighten around his pulsating cock. She was nearly there, and oh god was she arriving to her climax quickly.

He didn’t change the pace, he continued moving her in the exact same way. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she felt the knot in her stomach becoming undone, “No, no.” he shook his head and tightened his grip on her face, “Eyes on me, Love” he demanded. She forced her eyes to lock onto his and it was in that moment that her walls completely clamped shut around him. A surge of her juices flooding her cavity adding onto the increasing pressure she was already feeling. Simon whimpered, his own eyes going lazy before closing as a familiar pressure was released within his thick and drenched cock. His thick and warm seed pumping deep inside of her. There was no denying that she belonged to him now. But maybe she always did.

Or maybe it was the storm to blame.

[ktaerssoi]

can you do a paige fic where paige is down bad like reaaaly down bad only has eyes for reader but reader is so oblivious and paige gets all sad and reader doesn’t know so then paige is like i fucking love you??

its always been you

relationship: paige bueckers x fem!reader based on this request! tysm for answering my post 😭 summary: paige has only ever had eyes for you. notes: omg this was actually sm fun to write tysm and also i would love to hear more of those requests you speak of. anyway ty again!! - kate not proof read!

"i mean really, she thinks she's the shit and just needs to shut up." you were going on yet another rant as you walked through your front door, paige not far behind with your leftovers from lunch.

"mhm, well maybe you need to express to her what she's doing wrong." paige sighs as she opens the fridge to put the food away, grabbing and water for you and herself.

"thanks," you grab the water bottle from her, leaning against the counter. "i guess, but anyway, how have you been." you nudge her playfully with your shoulder, giggling. "any girlsss?"

you watch as her face flushes and she rolls her eyes. you see the smirk on her face as she turns away, letting you know that there was most definitely a girl.

"oooo, who?" you watch as she turns back to you shrugging, taking another sip of water. "i plead the fifth." its your turn to roll your eyes as she keeps her mouth shut.

"oh come on, p! were adults! you can tell me who you think is cute, i wont judge." you cross your arms as you move to stand in front of her, blocking her in slightly. she shakes her head and smiles at you, and the look she gives you is different from the normal ones. she looks at you like you're the only person she ever wants to know.

"i don't know, i don't think you want to know. you guys are sort of close and i wouldnt want to make it awkward, y'know?" she makes direct eye contact with you, you guys standing at the same height due to her leaning on the counter.

"uh yeah, i mean i guess so but i wouldn't tell her." your shoulders drop a little, you didn't want to push her but you were also sort of hurt that your own best friend didn't want to tell you about a girl she liked.

"you seriously don't have any thoughts at who it could be? she's not on the basketball team." paige stands up straighter, now towering over you slightly.

not on the basketball team? paige's life is basketball, i'm like the only friend she has that doesn't live basketball 24/7

needless to say, you were confused. (and dense as hell my gosh)

"is it that one chick that you had to do that group assignment with? the really pretty girl with the braids?" you were thinking to everyone you had seen apige interact with that wasn't on the team, other than yourself you were lost.

"no, you guys are close remember?" paige is looking at you like this is the most obvious thing ever, and you just stare up at her utterly confused.

"you're horrible at this whole hint thing." you mumble, shaking your head as you walk toward the living room to continue your thinking.

paige follows behind sort of deflated, plopping down on the couch next to you, slouching down so her head could rest on your shoulder. "no i mean really, who could it be?" she shakes her head as she goes to grab the remote.

you watch as she channel surfs for the next ten minutes, not finding anything good and eventually turning off the t.v.. "take one more guess and then i'll tell you who it is." paige looks up at you from her spot on your chest.

"okay um, is it that one media girl that were friends with? the one who always comes to dinners with us??" paige's eyebrows furrow, and she giggles to herself a litte, shaking her head.

"nope, but listen, if- if i tell you, you have to swear to me that things won't change. okay?" you nod at her words, never have you seen her this strict.

"are you sure it's not the media girl?" you narrow your eyes as she sits up, sitting across from you now.

"no y/n, its you. i like you. no, fuck it, i love you. i mean, you're amazing and you're the sweetest, funniest person i know and i'm not even totally sure if you're into girls like that but i can help but like you."

she bites her nails as you nod, you're quiet for a moment before you smile. "you think i'm funny?" paige rolls her eyes at you and stands up from the couch, scared that you're trying to let her down easy.

"so if that's a rejection i'm just going to go-" paige gets cut off by you springing up and grabbing her hand to stop her. "definitely not a rejection. i like you too p, like a love type of like. just to clarify." you shrug as you drop her hand, struggling to express that you really do feel the same.

"seriously? you're not just saying that because you're my best friend and you feel bad?" she's looking down at you, studying your face for your honest answer. once you nod you feel her hand on your waist and feel yourself be pulled forward.

your body is flush against hers, you've been in this exact position countless times before, but right now everything was in a whole new light.

your eyes flash down to paige's lips, and then back to her eyes, and to her lips again. "you're really pretty." you mumble, not even thinking about what you were saying anymore.

you watch as her cheeks get pinker, smiling at your effect on her. "shut up," she looks down at your lips, "can i kiss you?" you have never nodded so fast in your life.

her lips come crashing onto yours and it feels so right. you taste her strawberry chapstick against your lips and the smell of her shampoo consumes your senses.

pulling away after a few seconds you look up at her in awe, a stupid smile on your face.

"you really think i'm funny?"

[sleepy-grav3]

Shared Adoption Habits

A/n: This is a past oneshot that was probably meant to be made into a full plot fanfic that I found while organizing my google drive. Don't expect anything from it, I'm not sure what my thought process was for this.

Summary: Bruce is married. He's married to a City Spirit. Specifically, Lady Gotham.

Tw: Fenton Parents are out of the picture, take it as you wish; technical kidnapping/surprise adoption

Danny is the Ghost King; Bruce Wayne is called The White Knight; Batman is called The Dark Knight; Bruce/Gotham; All Gothamites are Lady Gotham's children through technical kidnapping

People loved to tease and bully Bruce about his adoption habit. Especially when they noticed the trend and shielded away adoption baits until they were grown enough to refuse adoption.

You could also turn to Batman with those dang Robins and Batgirls that spread further to even outside cities (and outer space). Nobody really knows the true number of members in the Batclan because of that adoption habit. But nobody knew that there was more to that. Nobody but those who knew of the other realm. Or should they say: the space that housed an infinite amount of them?

Denizens of the Infinite Realms were special and dangerous. Their hierarchy was based on power level. Their bonding activities related to fighting. Just mentioning their deaths would result in mindless rage, which was an instinctual defense mechanism.

Not to mention their obsessions! They would go all out, attacking those who got in the way of it. And they’re possessive of those they call their own. Never mess with their babies, their children. It was unknown what could be considered a threat with how fighting was a bonding activity, making the line practically invisible and terrifying to approach. So nobody messed with them.

How did this relate to Bruce? Well it’s pretty simple. Denizens from the realms adopted any child they find. Commonly, the child has the same or a similar core element as them. This is just like how Bruce has black hair and blue eyes, taking in those that are the same/similar.

This is just a comparison. This doesn’t explain shit. Well, what if someone told you that Bruce was spiritually married and heavily influenced by a denizen from said realms?

What denizen? Who would he ever be committed to long enough for him to share/mimic habits from them? Well, it’s none other than Lady Gotham! Whaaaat??? Haven’t you heard of Bruce Wayne being the White Knight compared to Batman, The Dark Knight? How everyone assumed them to be boyfriends or something but really they aren’t?

Well, that title is actually real. He’s the Knight to his Lady. That Lady being the city spirit of Gotham. Lady Gotham. Poetic really. But now it makes sense. Due to Spiritual Marriage, there are benefits. Such benefits include: An official title, a Name, certain abilities, a guaranteed citizenship to the realms, resistance against associates of the dead, and many other things. And with this marriage, they share things. Lady Gotham shares his ability to effortlessly stay on the mortal Realm, Bruce gets her adoption habit.

Since when does Lady Gotham have an adoption habit? The Gothamites hate outsiders! The city is proof enough. All Gothamites are hers. In fact, she goes further to open her arms to those of the dead/undead, inviting them to her haunt for shelter.

Her haunt houses a multitude of other haunts. Many are small. Rooms, apartments, houses. There are a few bigger haunts. Manors, which only 3 are occupied, The Swamp (Grundy), The Sewer Empire (Killer Croc), Crime Alley (Red Hood), and Clocktower. The Clocktower, however, was simply part of Clockwork’s haunt. He always held beacons everywhere.

She never liked it, even if she gained power if she rested there after the curses planned a sudden ambush. However, her Knights and his children did like it, the height of the structure soothing somehow. She understood, so she was neutral about it now. It was hers anyway. Part of her city, so suck it Clockwork!

Lady Gotham, clearly, has the classic adoption problem, even if it’s just part of her biology as a realms denizen. Bruce got that by becoming her knight. And-

Oh?

The Ghost King is a child?

And orphaned by human terms child?

Well Clockwork, you’re gonna have to share now.

Don't be shy now.

GIVE HER THE CHILD.

[gulfiya007]

On lukola fandom

Here’s some venting about the lukola fandom, and its ways, and consequences, from an ordinary polin, Bridgerton and Luke fan.

Starting from the way Luke’s loved ones and friends are treated by its adherents. Especially his girlfriend. The hate towards her is visceral. The whole phenomenon of bullying and stalking someone just for existing and posting on their SM account from time to time probably needs to be studied by social studies scholars and parasocial relationship specialists, cause it’s new heights apparently.

So, what if she’s proud of Luke as her boyfriend and wants to show it? What if she wants to mark her territory sometimes, to which she has a right btw? What if she trolls haters and delusional IRL shippers occasionally? Hers is probably the most relatable behavior. I myself, as an introvert millennial who doesn’t run one single SM account and cringe from the exhibitionist nature of current SM posting practices, still recognize that there’s nothing unusual about that kind of posting per se. Why was Luke’s former gf, Jade, allowed to post him all the time (which is totally alright btw), but Antonia hinting at having, say, a dinner with Luke is shady, attention-seeking, desperate, needy and despicable?

It's not that I care particularly about her. In fact, I couldn’t care less if she’s replaced by Luke with some other woman in a couple of months or if she is his future wife and mother to his kids. I still believe, regardless of her status in the relationship, she deserves basic respect and decent treatment as a human being that we know pretty much nothing about. She does not deserve the vilification and demonization that she gets.

Luke too, has a right to privacy and respect for his personal choices that are nobody’s business. He owes no one anything in terms of disclosing his dating life and confirming his relationships. If for someone, Luke bringing the girl to almost all his travels and events with himself, is not a proof or statement in and of itself about her being his girlfriend, then that’s on them. No amount of intentional misreading and skewed takes on photos will trump this simple fact.

Also please don’t bring up virtue signaling and other cancel culture stupidities, such as moral judgements passed on Luke and his close ones for political or other values purportedly held by them, of which we in fact know zilch. It’s clear that this is just another useful tool in a shipping crusade.

Nicola too, deserves, for a change, to have her numerous statements taken seriously. Let alone, privacy. She’s being stalked by her so-called fans to insanity. I am sure she, to put it mildly, is uncomfortable about her “queen” and “goddess” status among the cultists, and being a projection vessel for a myriad of sad women. Cause she knows very well this type of passionate idolatry is an inch away from hate, and the plus sign switches to a minus sign the minute she does something not to their liking, a wrong brand or person supported, or not enough disciplining of Luke is exercised. The most delusional thing about lukolas is them truly believing themselves to be Nic’s or Luke’s fans.

Which brings us to the crux of the matter. That IRL shipping is bad, period. Some lukola bloggers on tumblr, TT and IG half-heartedly try to reign in and admonish the more unhinged segment of the fandom by telling them to behave and not bring their bul..t to the actors' feet. However, this is what the lukola discourse platforms, by simply existing, still do - breed crazy fan behavior. Because the problem lies in the belief system itself. No amount of reservations, house-keeping and discipline by lukola discourse 'leaders' will do away with the tenets and premises of this religion that seep through and twist every discussion and speculation about the figures involved (Luke, Nic, etc). Since every reasoning should work towards a certain end goal, all means and distortions are good to achieve it. Finding faults with Luke's character and behavior and demanding a 'redemption' from him, hating and criticizing Luke's friends and family, attributing motivations to the actors and their loved ones that best suit theories, online stalking etc. A myth about Luke ever publicly stating he was single during promo, a ridiculous myth about Bridgerton cast and showrunners shipping lukola (news flash – nobody in the cast cares about their co-stars’ private lives, stop the kindergarten), or the “papgate” affecting in any way Luke’s job prospects. Myths upon myths that build the house of cards of the lukola dogma. I myself wouldn’t care a damn about this fandom if it really contained itself to its close corners and group chats, however, unsurprisingly, they spill over in a grand fashion and permeate all discourse.

You really believe the innocent delulu fangirling has no by-products? These are the staple manifestations of the lukola and of any IRL shipping fandom, and popular lukola theorists are pretty successful in justifying and reinforcing them. And it should not be surprising that some followers, the most zealous and stupid ones, take it too far and actually harass people and be annoying in SM.

As a Luke and polin fan, I am annoyed by this, but I am 100% sure this sh*t is affecting the actors, and you all can kiss goodbye to the chemistry between Luke and Nic naturally displayed during promo. I am sure polin will not be affected, for L and N are excellent actors and friends, but you all soon will look sadly back to S3 promo tour as magic that will never come back.

[at4zxx]

“Sisterly love.”

Descendants rise of red❤️⚡️

genre: silly fluff 💖

glassheart used! (red x chloe)

bigsister!red + fem!reader

NOT A SHIP ⬆️⬆️(weirdos get lost)

warnings: NOT PROOF READ. but other then that NOPE! such a silly fic, I HOPE THIS HELPS?? :3 also I don’t count my words so have fun!

Growing up in the Wonderland palace was so boring, considering not socialising with anyone but your big sister and some of the guards.

You’re mom, Queen Bridget; also the queen of hearts did feel bad for you since you were a kid with no social life, so she bought two dogs. One Rottweiler and one german Shepard by the names of Atlas and Apollo, you and red loved them. They were basically guard dogs.

But now here you are, playing with the flour on the kitchen floor, throwing the whole entire bag onto the floor and scooping it into a bowl with the biggest smile known to any four in a half year old girl.

Your sister Red came downstairs with her girlfriend, Chloe.

Her face completely dropped when she saw the mess you made, chloe found it amusing since you managed to pour some on the dogs.

Apollo was rolling around in the white dust spread all over the kitchen floor meanwhile Atlas just sat down patiently just looking at the two older girls as if he was asking them to get him out of this mess. He was a clean dog, didn’t like getting dirty. Meanwhile Apollo threw himself into anything that had dust.

“omg, Y/N!” She exclaims, picking up the small girl covered in flour head to toe.

“Moms going to kill me! What were you even thinking!”

Y/N doesn’t seem to understand, just smiling and laughing.

“I wanted to make a cake for mama and Chloe!” You responded, the amount of happiness evident on your face made Reds frustration sooner replace.

She sighs after a while, pulling you into a hug, knowing she’ll probably have dust or flour on her clothes and face.

“Of course you did. Cmon, let’s just get this whole chaos cleaned.”

Chloe placed her hand on Reds shoulder, seeing the small smile on her lips.

“What?”

“You’re such a good sister to her.”

Just that there made Reds face flush. Her smile reappearing.

“Yeah yeah- shut up. Let’s just clean up before the maids see this and quit..”

“Yeah!” Y/N cheered, raising her arms happily.

“You’re not getting out of this so easily missy, no more sweets.”

Y/N’s smile turns into a frown, she drops her arms and looks down at the floor with slight sadness.

“aww :C”

——————

what seemed like FOREVER to you but felt like only 15 minutes for the other two girls you were all done cleaning the kitchen. And the dogs were no longer covered in flour.

Chloe sighs, wiping the bit of sweat from her forehead.

“Nothing like a bit of hard work does the trick.” She sighs.

Red laughs, looking at her girlfriend as she approaches her.

“Oh please princess, you only cleaned the flour off the dogs.”

Chloe smiles, bringing her hand up to wipe a bit of flour from Reds cheek with her thumb.

“You had something on your cheek, love.”

She chuckles pulling the blue haired girl closer.

“You have something on your lips.”

Then, their lips meet for a few seconds, butterflies flutter in Chloe’s stomach, Red felt like she was melting. Until it was cut off by the sound of a little girl.

“eww! don’t kiss! germs!!” Y/N fake gags, looking away.

The two girls laugh, pulling away.

“Alright, how about we bake a cake for your mom?” Chloe speaks, kneeling to Y/N’s height. Earning a scoff from Red for the two to ignore what she just said for Y/N’s punishment.

Y/N’s sparkle in her eyes return as she jumps into Chloe’s arms.

“Yes please!!”

Red sighs, crossing her arms.

“Oh my god you guys are so annoying.”

“Oh you love us.”

creator note: I kinda wished that Red had a younger sibling or atleast a pet because I think that would’ve been a cute thing to add :3

I love these two so much! (another reminder I’m not shipping the actors, and also this isn’t a ship edit towards Malia and Kylie) BUT OMG I LOVED WRITING THIS IT WAS SO CUTE- kinda short BUT SO CUTEE

[m0chisenpai]

back in black

˚｡⋆ miguel o'hara x black!fem!reader

in which miles finds an ally in the questionable, morally gray spiderman variant

Hobie was communicating with somebody. Gwen could tell from the way his fingers danced across his watch. He was good at diverging from what his point was. Countless times he’d stolen bags of chips out of her hands without her noticing, snuck the tv remote to turn on his own show of choice. But Gwen could tell as his eyes looked down at his watch, he was sending something to someone. 

The question was who was he calling. But when he caught her eye out of the corner of his eye, his lips moved. “Trust me.” and so she did. As she stood, half defeated behind a raging O’hara who tore through the crowd, eyes ablaze, he came to halt at the portal that opened in front of Mile’s body.

Something large, and inky with bulging white veins landed in front of Miles. It was twice his and Miguel’s size and its milky white eyes looked back into Miles’. His head began to ache and a flurry of white and black surrounded the beast as he squinted. But something in his bones told him to trust this terror that stood between Miles and the rabid leader of the spider society.

“Miguel” her voice purred, silencing the chaos around them.

Whatever, whoever this was had power because not one spider person attempted to step forward and take her down. 

It slowly inched closer to the leader, hands sitting on her hips. “Attacking a child? Surely y this is a new low for you, and our expectations were already low as it is. Oh excuse me, MY expectations were low.” 

The leader clicks his teeth, fangs just barely revealing themselves past the scowl on his lips. “Says the par-'' the growl that left her was enough to make Miles step back and Miguel to shut up. Its eyes narrow and fangs, large and jagged make Miguel’s look like cat fangs. Those teeth could tear through a whole being, could even consume bones and all if it wanted to. And Miles thinks surely that thing HAS. But Miguel doesn’t stand down against this creature, only narrows his eyes more.

“Careful with your words. Y/N might have the tiniest of a soft spot for you, but I will not hesitate to tear you limb from limb and eat your heart out. And from her thoughts, she is not opposed.”

“I’d like to hear that from her.”

A silence falls between them. And the creature huffs and peels backward, sinking into the flesh of whatever it was encasing. Whoever was in it began to reveal themselves to be a woman who stood at half of Miguel’s height. She wears a spider suit, similar in style to Gwen’s, but it’s black and white, and it’s nothing like anything Miles saw. 

It's similar to the creature's texture, slick and clings to her body more like a second skin than a spider suit. 

Her mask covers half her face from her nose down and her braids end just a bit past her hips. Her eyes are sharp and if any one were lucky to get just close enough to see, they'd be able to make out the dusting of freckles across her cheek bones. Her eyes look like a ghosts, nearly white making her look to have no eyes at all.

She looks back to Miguel and she nods, “you’re going home kid.” The leader's eyes flash red as he points a finger to the boy hidden behind her body. “That kid is a threat! An anomaly! He shouldn’t even be here. He shouldn’t be a Spider-Man!”

“O’hara, your canon blah blah whatever theory is no more than an empty theory with no proof. Had it been true I should be dead, no?” her head tilted and eyes slanted as she looked up at him. “I shouldn’t be Spider-Man. I am no hero and you know this well, even your little glitchy bug thing.”

“You’re different.” His eyes soften. Because truth be told, you should not be here. You should be somewhere on your earth, in your perfectly normal little bubble writing the next big piece for the paper. You should be putting that big private university degree to use and getting you rmoneys worth. 

 But instead you stuck your nose somewhere you shouldn’t have been, on the brink of death. Till your little…friend came along. Now you spend your nights tearing out the throats of crimimals and by day you’re Y/N L/N. Editor of the city paper, somewhat decent upstanding citizen of your Earth.

Anything but normal.

“No, I’m right. And you know you are wrong. Let the boy go home to his father, no boy should have to go through trauma for a mask. And if I find out anything or one lays a hand on him or his family, which I will..”

Her eyes cut to the crowd behind Miguel. And from her neck that inky creature reveals itself. Curling around to hover beside her head. Two voices harmonized to release a single threat.

“Your pancreas will become our dessert.”

[awmancreeper]

✿*:·━━━━━·:*✿*:·━━━━━·:*✿*:·━━━━━·:*✿

DAD! TXT: Boy Vs. Girl Dad

Genre: fluff

Warning: contains baby talk, mentions of called mommy, not proof read

Notes: this is up for discussion

Yeonjun (연준)

• Girls, I’m sorry but Yeonjun’s is NOT up for discussion.

• Choi Yeonjun is THE girl dad, she’s his little princess and would spoil her!!!

• Junnie sees your daughter and can’t help but to think abt her growing up. - already crying at the thought of giving her away (not in a toxic girl dad kinda way)

• So his goal in life is show her how a man is supposed to treat someone they love (ofc leading by example- lucky you),

• every month he has a father and daughter date. - it’d be weekly if he wasn’t so busy

• They go out shopping, to eat, maybe get their nails done

• If not at a salon, you can count on Yeonjun rocking “by his little princess” nails no matter how much times the company yells at him for his busted nails- he’ll keep this polish on till the next date

• Not to mention he’d put her in every dance activities she can be in.

• Yeonjun doesn’t know if his daughter is gonna love dancing like he does but he’s gonna give her the option pretty dang early

• Why is your baby in a tutu at 2 y/o… idk ask her father bc he just said she came back from her first ballet class.

• Yet don’t get it twisted it goes both ways, she LOVES Yeonjun like she tells you daddy is her favorite :/

Soobin (수빈)

• Soobin grew up with boys so you’d think he’d want a boy bc he’s more comfortable especially since girls come with “problem” but the moment he lays his eyes in your baby girl, he fell in love.

• Tho I can totally see Bin w/ a son

• Honestly both

• Soobin is just a gentle parent- it doesn’t help that he feels like he scares them bc of his build

• So he usually lightens his voice and slouches around them

• He was afraid of holding his baby in fear of hurting them

• That didn’t last for long bc binnie is all over that baby

• As they got older, soobin used his height as an asset

• He is THE piggy back giver

• Soob treats all his kids the same but once his daughter comes up it’s over for the son

• His princess will get anything her little heart desires

• Tho he’s in total denial, saying that he treats all his kids the same regardless of their gender

• But you see it, the way bunny ears magically appear when his baby girl calls out for him

Beomgyu (범규)

• I think we can all agree that Beomgyu would be bomb at both girls and boys but I think if the baby was boy,

• he’d see the child as competition.

• Like who is this new born sucking on his s/o titties, that’s his job.

• Gyu would love any of his children but this baby boy grinds his gears (playfully)

• it doesn’t help that his son inherited his mischievousness.

• Don’t call him crazy when he tell you little gyu smirked at him when you yelled at Beomgyu for beating him at a race to the car.

• They’d both go up to your asking which drawing is better

• “whoever gets to mommy first loves her more”

• So many races (╥_╥)

• Regardless Beomgyu loves his mini me and who doesn’t like a little healthily competition here and there.

• Definitely wants more kids---- smth abt building an army ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Taehyun (태현)

• I truly can’t decided whether he’d but a better boy or girl dad, tbh Taehyun gives me “as long as they’re healthy” vibes

• but that’s good bc he’d treat his kids the same.

• Now Tae’s is kinda similar to beomgyu but in a sense that taehyun views everyone else as competition

• I don’t think Taehyun would have a preference but either way his kid is better than your kid- why bc they stood up by themselves for 3 secs.

• Or bc they held their bottle themselves when you were feeding them.

• There’s no way that kid doesn’t end up in everything, I’m saying sports, combat, dance, instruments, etc -

• it’s like Taehyun is speed running maxing out his kid’s skill tree.

• Tae’s kinda seen as the strict parent out of you two

• But he just wants best for them (and so he can brag abt his kid winning the 1st grade spelling bee)

Huening Kai (휴닝카이)

• Not matter what the gender is, it’s already set in stone that this baby with be a mini Hyuka.

• Although I do see Huening Kai with a baby boy or twins (imagine huening twins(;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`)).

• Whatever the gender may be it doesn’t stop the fact that both Kai and baby are inseparable

• But its not only bc they’re alike but that have a common interest… you

• Yk how many you heard “let’s go bother mommy” from Kai

• Kai also starts their plushy collection early so by the time they’re 5, their wall is filled with stuffies

• If the baby is a boy, Hyuka would teach his boy to treat girls like a flower

• he wants to be proud of the way his son treats other, especially with girls -Kai has 2 sisters that engraved that into his head

• Speaking of sibling, Kai’s gonna want more kids

• His loves his sibling and he wants his children to have the same experience

• He also wants to have them close together for they can grow up as friends

• So get prepared bc the moment that baby can hold their own bottle, Kai’s pouncing on you for more

Perm Taglist: @beoms-sugar @txtbrainrot @kaisdefender(OPEN)

[pinetreevillain]

Rise Turtle Strength Calculator

Part 2: Purple Bugaloo

Disclaimer: I Am Just A Guy And 100% of this is guessing, googling, and approximation

So!!!! Got a request to determine Donnie’s strength and the journey was an Interesting One.

So let’s start with the most popular

EXHIBIT A: Dumbbell (Insane In The Mama Train)

He pulls it off with ease (relaxed pose, no real effort exerted until he makes the effort of hefting it and throwing it). Going off the size of these dumbbells, they are either 45lbs or 100lbs. This is a big gap! But seeing as the yokai falls over as soon as its removed, we can assume that Donnie is AT MOST tossing a 100lb weight with little to no effort.

UNFORTUNATELY this doesn’t tell us much else since we don’t see the weight hitting anyone/anything other than the traincar door before it teleports away.

So! We must delve further

EXHIBIT B: Donnie’s Equipment

We know Donnie’s tech bō is made from high grade titanium.

TITANIUM IS A LIGHT METAL! Revered for being light weight, flexible, and rust-proof. Used to make medical tools! This make perfect sense as 1) ninjas need maximum mobility and heavy equipment is counter intuitive, 2) melee weapons are supposed to be LIGHT (see reason 1).

However! This does not stop me from calculating the weight of Donnie’s tech bō regardless.

TO DO THAT, i must first calculate the length of his staff (operating under the assumption that both the ninpo staff and the tech bō are the same in size).

BŌ STAFFS ideally are the same height as the wielder. We are going to use this image (cannot find source) as reference, just like i did w Raph (give or take any growth between season 3 finale and movie)

Donnie is 5’3”, and while i’m here, weighs ~140lbs give or take after plastron, muscle mass, and Bones

The average bō staff has a circumference of about 1-1 1/8th of an inch depending on the length. I’m leaning more towards the larger because of the tech bōs gadgetry and hammerspace.

NOW to calculate how heavy a 5’3” metal pole that’s 1 1/8 inch in width of titanium.

Thankfully the internet is Insane and literally has a calculator that calculates this exact thing.

I was able to come to the conclusion that his tech bō probably weighs no more than approximately 1 pound.

Not very heavy!

What about his battle shell?

WELL it depends! For ease, I’m going to calculate it like a backpack.

The average public school backpack is 12-20 lbs full (heavy and 5-20% heavier than a child SHOULD be carrying to avoid back and neck strain).

I’m going to use measurements from this Random Backpack Website I Found and calculate it as a Medium Backpack (larger than standard) with a laptop pouch, and some minor adjustments since his shell covers him from neck to ass (roughly 24 inches, his height is in his legs)

It’s harder to calculate the shell because he has Different kinds and they’re made of different materials.

I am going to give all of these a base of 66lbs + whatever equipment they have

His Mango shell is probably largely padding with minimal titanium lining

Ice Maker shell is probably heavier. Spider Shell, Drone Shell, are all made w titanium so. Assuming Donnie makes EVERYTHING out of titanium

TECH BŌ: 5’3”, ~1 lb

BATTLE SHELLS:

- Mango: ~66lbs

- Drone: ~150 lbs (including whatever is powering it)

- Ice Maker: ~200 lbs (including ice)

- Spider Shell: ~150lbs

🧍

New approach!

EXHIBIT C: APRIL

WE SEE DONNIE CARRYING/SUPPORTING APRIL A NUMBER OF TIMES. A majority of them i am writing off because he is using his tech to assist.

HE IS just holding her up easily in this shot. After some cursory google searches i determined April O’neil to be ~110lbs soaking wet because she’s 4’8”, petite, and the boys fling her around like she’s made of craft foam.

Conclusion: Donnie can lift/throw a fairly decent 110 pounds, and carry approximately 200lbs

This is a small number after raph’s 20,000 lbs, and i can barely lift an 84lbs dog so I’m not gonna sneeze at it. It does however check out for someone who is physically fit and active (and does backflips and parkour and fights enemies four times his bodyweight)

BUT WAIT!!! PINE!!! WHAT ABOUT…

EXHIBIT D: SUBWAY KRANG (The Movie)

Donnie DOES get bonked pretty hard by a subway car and doesn’t Immediately Die. To determine this I had to calculate the Weight Of A Subway Car and the Breaking Point of Titanium.

Subway car: 82,000lbs empty

119,000lbs full

Because the subway car looks like this

I’m gonna call it full.

Titanium has a tensile strength of 63,000 pounds per square inch.

After determining the size of Donnie’s shell off his body, and how much titanium was used, i cam to the conclusion that…

I CAN’T ACTUALLY CALCULATE it because the shell he was wearing was actually mystic/ninpo made and therefore NOT SOMETHING I CAN CALCULATE! It does explain why Donnie wasn’t Rapidly Dispersed upon being bonked by an INSANE AMOUNT OF FORCE.

This very issue crops up again with the other example of Donnie lifting and slapping down the drill on Shredder in the season finale. That was aided ENTIRELY by ninpo/mystic abilities and therefore incalculable.

My counter to the argument that “their ninpo is gone, it’s not mystic anymore” is that Yes They Could Not Access Their Ninpo, but their ninpo-made weapons were still fully intact, and TECHNICALLY still working, the ability to use them had just been locked away

i also humbly believe that Draxum’s Ooze made the boys’ bones EXTREMELY resilient and capable of absorbing force the same way Captain America’s shield absorbs vibrations — my way of explaining why they sustain little to no injury throughout the series.

That being said, it makes the fact that Donnie couldn’t break open a watermelon AND sprains his ankle pretty badly tripping on a fruit EXTREMELY FUCKING FUNNY TO ME.

TL;DR: Donnie can throw ~110lbs give or take, with a lift/carry of maximum 200lb (maybe a bit more before it hinders his movement speed!)

Donnie’s probably not excessively strong but he is CERTAINLY sturdy. Something something rectangles symbolizing stability blah blah metaphor metaphor

[ccrites]

Signal Lost

I've had something happen to me that's so incredible and that I could have never hoped, something so touching and so unbelievable that it made me rethink a whole lot of stuff: a wonderful reader on Ao3 started reading my long-form fic (101k words!!!) and commented basically every chapter after a certain point. And wow, I would have never thought something like this might happen.

And yeah, it is my first fic with plot in it, yeah I will never believe it to be perfect, but it's good enough. And receiving all those emails from Ao3 really was the highlight of my days over the course of which I saw said reader slowly go through all my favorite parts!

And so I wish to give it some spotlight here, while I'm finishing up my school year and work and whatever! I will post this here for now, but I will drop chapters every few days and make a Masterlist for it this weekend. (nvm I don't have the energy to do this any time soon lmao) I have too many loose ideas in my head so this is just to pass the time till the brain worms wiggle all in the same direction

So without further ado:

Link to AO3 here : Signal Lost - a John Price x reader fic

----- here's a blurb to pique your interest!

“I don’t think I’ve ever received a document as classified as this one. What am I supposed to do with it, Kate?” he says, dragging his thumb across the pile of papers, each file filled with more ink than the last.

“You asked for proof, there’s your proof,” Laswell says.

“You said you’ll bring someone competent, and who can help us, this doesn’t tell me shit.” He stares blankly at the screen, tired. She stares back.

“The Captain specifically asked to keep this under wraps.”

He rubs at his face, scratching at his beard. It’s getting long again.

“Who is he, anyway?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

He groans again, picking up the file on top. No photo, no name, no age, no height, weight, no nothing . And he thought Simon was secretive.

“What can you tell me?”

“It’s the closest we’ve ever gotten to him. Did things a particular way.”

He shifts through the papers. “And the discharge?”

“Left after the entire team got wiped out. Messy stuff.”

“That why he doesn’t show his face?” He bends forward, grabbing the cigar from the ashtray and bringing it to his lips.

“John.” Her voice carries a heavy warning.

“Just sayin’,” he says, biting around the cigar with one side of the mouth. “What kinda captain doesn’t go down with his men?”

“Got enough guilt as is. You’re lucky I convinced them.”

They both remain silent. They know the missions would be a slippery slope. One wrong move and a war is started. He puffs a cloud of smoke.

“Anything else?” John asks.

Kate looks to the side, her face illuminated by another screen. He can see her hesitate, her lips are pursed in a thin line as if she’s debating her options.

“You’ve worked together before.”

His face lights up. “Finally! Who?”

Her face immediately hardens back up. “Can’t tell, John, my hands are tied.” She sighs. “You were still a Lieutenant.”

Years ago then. He mentally catalogs everyone he’s ever worked with, but he knows that at that age, he was throwing himself at every available mission, wanting to make a name for himself. “So an old fart then? How’s that gonna help us?” If the guy was a Captain when he was still a Lieutenant, and he felt himself grow old, he can’t imagine who Laswell is bringing back from the dead.

Laswell’s face distorts, he knows he’s pushing her buttons, but he has to know.

“Not older than you John.”

His eyebrows raise. “Oh?”

---

or

returning to the military to hunt Makarov is hard enough, to do it with your past lover is even harder. a "friends to lovers to enemies to friends and back to lovers" story

---

Tags and other CW: will be posted for each chapter containing warnings for more hardcore stuff (i.e., torture and angst namely), but this is a fanfic, with smut, so if you want all the tags feel free to check the ao3 link bc there are a LOT and I am lazy to retype them all here

[chaosmagetwin]

RWBY volume 3 remains one of the most heart breaking seasons of a show for me. Spoilers under the cut

I’ve been rewatching it and got the “pleasure” of seeing Pyrrha and Penny both make larger plans throughout the season, with Penny planning on leaving Atlas to be with her friends, and Pyrrha planning to be a huntress.

The tragedy is well laid out in advance; it’s unavoidable, in so many ways, the groundwork laid out in volume 1 and 2 to set these characters up for it. But it’s not immediately obvious. They don’t have death flags, or at least not ones that are common. Penny’s death flag is simply that she is a machine, built by Atlas, and the one personal connection she has is to RWBY (and specifically Ruby); running away from Atlas to be with her is practically a declaration of love. It’s Penny asserting her personhood against a state that would never allow her to do so.

For Pyrrha, it’s less and more obvious. Her defeat is a narrative prophecy of sorts; RWBY cannot shine as “the best” so long as Pyrrha is alive. She has too much main character energy. She’s, quite literally, Achilles, and named for Pyrrhic victory. More on that in a bit. Her more obvious death flag is the way that her importance to Ozpin supersedes the vytal festival. Becoming the fall maiden is more important than the competition, in what is otherwise a tournament arc. Something which, frankly, goes against traditional narrative structure. Usually, a tournament arc, and winning it, are literally the most important thing in the story when it’s there; if they were to lean into it, the story would’ve been that whoever wins the tournament, or maybe reached the final selection, would be up for consideration on the maiden’s powers.

But, much like the process for acquiring the power, this narrative arc isn’t natural. The festival doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter to anyone but the children. Winter isn’t there for it. Qrow isn’t there for it. Ozpin and his entire council isn’t there for it. And, most importantly, the villains don’t care about it except as a tool to accomplish their goals. From the start, you are never lead to believe that these three antagonists care even a little bit about the festival.

And because it doesn’t matter, the girl who is most likely to win the festival, who was previously stated to win tons of competitions, who has proven that she’s one of the most powerful people in the school who isn’t an adult, who is kind and sweet, and has no reason for anyone in the audience (in universe or otherwise) to root against her, she has no purpose. Her narrative purpose revolves, before the maiden reveal, around the festival. The assumption is that she is the final boss for Ruby or whoever is in the team who made it to the final round (it’s Yang).

And then the maiden reveal occurs, and she unmoors. Unlimited power, at the cost of who she is. Her narrative death flag is set in stone. Her personal death flag, becoming unstable to the point of losing control of her powers and no longer being able to be helped by Jaune, are like small nods to the narrative.

The finale of volume 3, which takes place over several episodes, is absolutely brutal. Penny’s death is traumatic. That alone would’ve been fair for the tone of RWBY if the finale ended with that. But then things get worse. Ozpin, an immortal, unstoppable figure whose power is actually more informed by his position as headmaster, everyone’s respect of him, and the viewers narrative understanding of similar media (I.e. in this case, Harry Potter, and Dumbledoor’s position and proven power) rather than any particular proof within the show, also dies in a confrontation that is less animated and more storybook than anything. Not even the primary quartet of characters are untouched; Yang loses her arm in a heartbreaking scene, and it’s at the height of her power. She’s not wavering, or emotionally unstable at any point (except the moment of, out of anger and rage for her friend). She’s, as far as we can tell, one of the best fighters in team RWBY, and previously basically untouched in damage; damage just makes her stronger, actually.

And at the height of her power, Adam simply dismembers her with barely a thought. She’s not even a consideration. She is simply outclassed.

Ultimately, volume 3 is tragic, and… decently written. It sets out to do certain things, and for the most part, handles it well. I like volume 3 quite a bit, but it has its problems. Frankly, the biggest one is the sexism throughout a lot of characters, many of whom aren’t antagonists. Qrow, Ozpin, the structure of the story itself at times. The second largest is the racism. The way Faunus are handled is generally just… not very good. And, more obviously, there is exactly two characters with melanin in the show up to this point; Emerald and Fox. Emerald is far more prominent, and is a villain ex street rat. None of the characters in the either of the main teams are even slightly tanned; Ruby herself practically glows, and I say that almost literally. There are points where I remember looking very closely and trying to see if she actually does or not. She’s vampiric white. There is also only 5 “good guy aligned” Faunus characters in the series at this point; Blake, Velvet, Fox, Neon, and Sun. Considering there are ~100 characters introduced at this point, those numbers are really pathetic. We literally have more antagonist humans than “good guy Faunus”. There’s also no excuse for the lack of melanin in general; Vale is multicultural, and the world has a plenty of travel available to it. Shade academy has every reason to have characters who are dark skinned and black, and Mystral has plenty of space for characters who aren’t white, considering the large amount of land it had consolidated.

I never really interacted with the community (especially not when this volume came out, as I wasn’t aware it existed until volume 4 or 5 I think), but my personal opinion is that volume 3 is kind of peak, marred only by its dedication to cis heteronormativity, aforementioned sexism and racism, and a few minor flaws that might not even be flaws tbh in terms of foreshadowing. I think they’re deliberate choices, and people who didn’t realize the show was going to go this way just didn’t see it in the cards. There is one person who straight up told me that they thought it came out of nowhere, that they were told [by the show] that this was a [high school] romp where the academy would be playing an important role. They felt lied to about what the show was about. Also, their favorite character died.

Some others I talked to, years later, talk about the entire tone shift that caught them off guard, what they felt like were mischaracterizations, and about a retconn that occurred between season 2 and 3, which is supposed to be an indication of how the creators immediately changed the writing of the show after Monty Oum died, but which to me simply felt like the sort of writing that was done when the creators weren’t sure they would be continued for volume 3.

Anyways, yeah, it’s peak. And I like volume 4 and 5, although I think they’re not quite as good. But, frankly, if you’re here for high quality, idk what you’re looking at RWBY for? The story is, up until the finale of volume 3, action figures being smushed together. Post finale, the plot picks up, which I am looking forward to.

[phoenix-manga]

Evonie Apfel

CV: Hikasa Yoko

Biographical Information

Gender: Female

Age: 19

Birthday: March 6

Starsign: Pisces

Height: 175 cm

Eye Color: Forest green

Hair Color: Black

Professional Status

Dorm: Pommeneige

School Year: 3rd Year

Class: 3-B | Student no. 3

Occupation: Student | Dorm Leader

Club: Theater Club

Best Subject: General Magic

Fun Facts

Favorite Food: Apple Dumplings

Least Favorite Food: Brussel Sprouts

Dislikes: Handling Highness’ tantrums and poachers

Hobby: Singing rock songs and fencing

Talents: Fast Reflexes

Idol Stats

Performance: Flexible range of vocals depending on the genre

Choreography: Quick to adjust to different choreography styles

Styling Jewel Outfits: Elegant | Gothic | Cool

Evonie doesn’t mind if she gets a bit dirty when accomplishing a task but she makes sure that she still looks presentable and cleans up to maintain her image as a dorm leader.

She is decently sociable but it is clear that there is a wall she puts up. If she is with people she can be vulnerable around, she doesn’t hold back on what her opinion is to an extent. Those close to her know that she will support her friends throughout their issues.

She has a mild level of patience; she can tolerate small mistakes but if the mistakes keep repeating then she might have to consult the person to see if there is anything wrong.

But if it is anything like Allison does, she definitely won’t tolerate that will sternly reprimand them. Her patience reaching its limit is rather rare, but when it happens then expect yelling and spells being thrown about.

Evonie is good at multitasking, she can hold a full conversation even if she is not looking at what she is doing to face the person she is speaking to. It’s something she developed at home.

She is very competitive, it is something she developed with her dads, and she loved the feeling of being victorious. So, if she ever loses, she is determined to come up with ways to win next time. It may get irritating to lose but she is a good sport, unless she finds out the opponent is cheating, then she won’t tolerate that.

Although she is aware of people and their behavior, she doesn’t always have an accurate conclusion of what the person would do and she would be a bit suspicious but without any concrete evidence she will drop her assumptions and leave it alone.

She makes sure she has proper table manners when eating, but if she is in private, she will slouch and eat to her own standards of comfort, she still keeps in mind of any crumbs that might fall.

Like Snow White, she has a fear of anything scary. She dislikes going to dark places by herself and if she sees something out of the corner of her eye then she will turn her head so fast to make sure nothing was there. She loses her composure and will activate fight or flight mode on instinct.

Hometown: Town of Orchard Fields

Family Life

Evonie was adopted by Rote and Schnee Apfel who became her parental figures. Her birthmother gave birth to her but knows that her illness will be detrimental for Evonie’s future. She contacts the Apfel couple who were acquaintances of hers and asked them to adopt Evonie.

The couple agrees and they raised Evonie in the Town of Orchard Fields. The house is built near a border with a large forest with a lot of wildlife and plants, it’s like a big backyard for her to explore.

Rote was the closest acquaintance of Evonie’s birthmother and it was he who made the decision to adopt the girl. Schnee teases him how during the first few years of raising a baby he went overboard in baby-proofing the house that they had so many pillows and Styrofoam than they know what to do with.

Evonie grew up as a polite girl, though she always had this curiosity to anything she thought might be a cute animal. Schnee made sure to teach her about the safety precautions when approaching a wild animal after he saw his daughter come home with a boar.

Though he doesn’t cook as much as Rote, he does know one recipe that he always taught Evonie, it was apple desserts that were pulled from his great grandmother’s cookbook. He’s kept that cookbook with him and hopes to one day pass it down to Evonie. Evonie’s favorite is the apple dumplings made by Schnee, she can’t get enough of it.

Childhood Memories

At first, Evonie was enjoying her time at school because everyone was very friendly to her. Of course, she is kind to them back to the point where she didn’t want to disappoint them. Until she found the outcast kid that the kids make fun of because of their appearance.

Evonie builds up courage to defend them and befriend the outcast. Which she thought was the right thing to do, at first, the outcast and Evonie got along and they were grateful for their help.

It wasn’t until the other kids cornered them and told the outcast how Evonie was just being nice because they were pitiful and how dare they think they’re equal to Evonie. This made them bitter and slowly drift apart from Evonie who had no clue what was going on.

When she heard news of her friend moving away, she wanted to say goodbye but when she managed to face them, the outcast hurled blame at her for their suffering. Telling her how she has it easy because she’ pretty and she thinks she’s so great but she was arrogant.

Evonie was silent but tears were flowing down her face, both of their parents heard the commotion and awkwardly bid farewell, they didn’t know what was wrong because they thought they got along well.

After that friend left, Evonie took what they said to heart and soon she started to realize how people kept complimenting her appearance instead of her skills. The people who admired her didn’t care about her at all, they just wanted to feel like they’re the popular clique by including Evonie. The ones who didn’t made it clear that they think she’s got it easy because of her looks.

This led Evonie to change her perspective, she didn’t wear pretty dresses unless it was necessary but she kept it simple and didn’t go all out. She didn’t socialize as much with people and often spent her days helping out at home or exploring the forest.

She preferred the company of animals more than people, knowing they care more about her compassion rather than her appearance.

The words of her ex-friend still linger her to this day, she would internally get annoyed whenever someone says she’s better suited for something else or disregards her effort.

Evonie is a 3rd Year Pommeneige student and is the current dorm leader.

Evonie is a model student, always makes sure to be efficient and ensure her dorm students wouldn’t fall behind by offering to help them in their studies to the best of her abilities. When she takes a break, it would be either a walk through the woods or just snacking on anything she craves.

The dorm students at first were unsure of s dorm leader who doesn’t quite portray the innocence of the Princess of the Dwarves, but they find her diligence and mature aura appealing and sometimes compares her to a prince. They nicknamed her the “Apple Knight”.

Evonie excels more when it comes to sports, especially fencing. Her Papa taught her and often sparred with her when he has time. Cooking is also another strong point in her education besides general subjects.

Regarding magic, she is more combat focused and often likes to physically incorporate spells with her movement like swinging a sword.

She thought that most students in DCA would be like the ones back home, only caring about appearances but she finds out that there are a lot of different girls here. She feels at ease to know that she can at least lift the weight on her shoulders.

Somewhere down the line, she developed this second persona to fully explore her wild side. Evonie wanted to feel free without having to think twice about her image. So, she set up a persona to really let herself go.

She showed up as a mystery idol once and it all developed from there. People have called her persona “The Masked Maiden” and she takes great measure to make sure no one can figure out her identity. So much so that she joined the theater club to improve her façade.

Evonie’s grades are fairly high, though she enjoys PE more because their coach has thrilling obstacle courses that really spark her motivation. Evonie is most skilled at fencing compared to the rest of the exercises.

School Relationships

Evonie is more drawn to befriend girls who can light up the competitive fire in her as well as genuinely enjoying her company. Vidya and Jinlong became her rivals due to their athleticism and how they always do things their way. Evonie admires them for wanting to be true to themselves so she follows their example.

Ella is another close friend of Evonie, though she barely remembers meeting Ella. Ella remembers Evonie as the Glaciel family went to Orchard Fields for a vacation and she remembers this pretty girl with dark hair who was nice enough to show her around the stalls and offer her some apple tarts. Though Ella seems like someone Evonie wouldn’t befriend at first, the girl’s kindness won her over.

They got even closer when Ella confided about her previous stepmother who left scars on her, mentally and physically. Evonie has not experienced that kind of abuse but she understands when Ella worries about appearance and wanting to hide what bothered them. She tends to shield Ella from anything bothering her out of habit.

Allison was a pain in the neck for Evonie, she can’t find common ground with the girl at all! She can somewhat understand not wanting to do etiquette but it’s still a class requirement. Evonie thinks she’s too reckless while Allison thinks Evonie is too hung up on maintaining an image. The only time those two can agree on something is through cooking, thought that ends quickly when Allison slips any raw fruit other than apples into her mouth.

Perrine and Evonie often share recipes and both found a common ground in sharing family traditions learned from past generations. Though Evonie can’t decide whether to be impressed or revolted when Perrine makes that weird food combination and eats it like it was 5 star.

Evonie’s relationship with Applette, her dorm fairy, is akin to her seeking comfort in the little creature. Applette’s form is derived from Evonie’s desire to feel genuine connections with other people. Applette is always sweet and kind, a contrast with Evonie’s cool and somewhat stern personality.

The fairy is there to be sympathetic as well as paint Evonie as a reliable sister figure to the dorm students.

Highness

Highness is a purple peacock that was given to Evonie when Schnee found an abandoned egg in the forest but there was no parent to be found. Highness was rather clingy as a chick, always looking for Evonie and crying whenever she went to school.

But Evonie still can’t understand how his attitude changed when he grew up, she guessed it might have been puberty that made him this way. She remembered using up all her saved money to buy him all those pricey bird products… it was definitely when she put too much effort into his care that he became this way.

Highness is arrogant and would stomp on anyone that he doesn’t deem worthy to get close to his personal space. Not even Evonie was spared but he does it less often when the threat of being sent to the vet was used.

Highness has his own personal trunk full of jewelry that he has Evonie dress him with, she doesn’t tell him that they’re mostly made from glass by Ella. There was no way that Evonie could afford such expensive jewelry so imitations are good enough as long as he doesn’t know.

Her unique magic is called, “Friends of the Forest”. The unique magic developed when Evonie felt awful after the confrontation with the ex-friend that she made the mistake of running into the forest during a rainstorm. She ended up crying under a hollow log from how hurt and scared she was.

Remembering the lullaby her dad often sang to her when she was scared, she quietly hummed the song unaware that the animals in the forest gathered around to comfort her. She was shocked at first to see so many animals around her but they brought her the comfort she needed until her parents found her.

Evonie often did this in private because it felt like her sanctuary if she ever gets stressed. She’s developed a soft spot for animals, Highness is a complicated case though.

She also excels in using fire magic due to her living in the woods and her family often having to camp out on special occasions. She can also use this offensively during matches by either setting projectiles or a dome trap.

Rote Apfel

Rote Apfel is called, “Dad” by Evonie and he has red hair and a large build that may seem intimidating but he is actually quite sweet and efficient in several handiwork around the household. Rote is only muscular because he did a lot of errands before which included chopping wood and heavy lifting.

He runs an animal sanctuary that cares for injured or abandoned animals. Quite a few of them have been adopted as family pets so it is expected to find a few animals lounging in their household.

Rote can’t help himself, all of the animals seem so cute to him, and he wished he had a bigger house to adopt them all. Schnee had to remind him that there is a limit to how many animals they can keep in the house.

Rote taught Evonie a lot of life hacks and tips on easy fixes on problems that usually need professionals to fix.

He is such a protective papa bear and often times his pouting face looks so intimidating without even meaning to. He is the empath that contrasts with Schnee’s parenting style.

Schnee Apfel

Schnee Apfel is called, “Papa” by Evonie and he has white hair and a slim build but he is very athletic with good reflexes. At first glance, he doesn’t seem intimidating due to his beautiful face but the moment he gets angry is when he becomes terrifying.

It comes with his job as a park ranger, he works in the town’s tourist park. There are times when he was called to handle a rampaging animal that might harm people nearby. But there are also entitled bastards or people with barely a brain cell who get themselves into trouble at the park.

Schnee doesn’t tolerate any nonsense in the park and is often called to handle the problematic visitors.

Schnee was the strict parent but he doesn’t go overboard in discipline. Most of the punishments when Evonie did something wrong was just household chores while he explains to her why it was wrong. He makes sure to properly teach her without being too harsh as he knows that children will be children.

He is the tough love kind of father which contrasts Rote’s parenting style.

Character’s name derives from “Ebony” with a few letter changes while her last name, “Apfel” is the German word for Apple.

Evonie can’t eat any other fruit raw besides apples, it’s still a mystery to her as to why. They’re fine when it comes to desserts or even jam but the raw product never fails to make her dislike it.

Despite her confidence, she actually can’t stand anything related to horror. She will shriek and hide away.

Her early concept was supposed to be a more confident and badass, Snow White. Her first two designs looked too similar to Weiss Schnee from RWBY, so she was redesigned.

[nowis-scales]

Ryoma Birthday Headcanons

I definitely did not almost forget to prepare any of these in advance because I forgot that April 31st wasn’t a thing, haha… noooo, who would do that? I’m sorry Ryoma. You’re still my 2nd favourite Fates character, I’m just busy. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this year’s round!

‣ Honestly, after the events of Revelation, he’s a little embarrassed that his first act as king (without being directly coronated, of course) was to declare war. For one thing, Hoshido is a country of peace. Very few kings during their reigns opened them by starting a war. For another, the problems with Nohr that drove them to battle were half the fault of a [REDACTED] working behind the scenes to worsen relations, and the other half were his fault for being ignorant. Thankfully for the most part people talk about his efforts to bring food to Nohr and end battles more than they do his tendency to start them, but it does make Ryoma more weary of how he handles conflicts afterwards.

‣ A lot of people believe that Ryoma is just naturally good at everything and never fails or has embarrassing moments. No. The man is actually just really, really good at a poker face, and it tends to convince people. No, that clang you heard was not him knocking his dessert spoon off the table, Prince Xander. You must be imagining things. The fact that his dessert spoon is now gone must surely be a coincidence, and likely evidence of another visit from a cute, pig-tailed prankster named Elise. Ryoma genuinely does fail fairly normal, but he has just learned to roll with the punches and keep going, and he has found that most of the time people will just believe him. Of course, this can only make it more embarrassing when there’s no way he can convince anyone that he didn’t misjudge the doorway’s height and bash his head, because there’s a bruise forming already. He just turns a little pink then.

‣ For someone who wears red a lot and is heavily associated with the colour, his favourite is actually blue. He doesn’t mention it much because he still does like red, but he finds the colour very calming. If given the opportunity to dress himself in casual clothing, it’s usually the colour he will go for the most, and he usually does for a deep, midnight blue tone.

‣ Contrary to popular belief, he and Mikoto did not have a magical mother-son connection. They genuinely liked, loved, and respected each other, but after losing both of his own parents, Ryoma tended to try and keep his parental figures at arms' length after that. Mikoto, loving mother that she was, always tried to connect with him anyway, but they weren’t as close as many people believe. A lot of that comes from the fact that he showed immense support for her at the beginning of her reign, calling her “Mother” and taking her opinions and advice very seriously. He genuinely did grow to think of her as his mother and would sing her praises all day long, but in the end their bond wasn’t similar to that of the ones she had with Sakura or Takumi. They relied on each other a lot politically and socially, but emotional connections could be sporadic. It’s why Yukimura’s choice of words for their connection is “cordial”.

‣ I imagine one of Ryoma’s first political moves is to change the succession order to being just by age, rather than age and gender. He does this as a way to honour Queen Mikoto’s memory, as she was living proof of the power of an influential female leader. It’s considered quite the controversial move, but we all know our boy can be manipulative when he wants to be — so when people try to question him, he will always asks them if they’re insinuating that Mikoto was anything less than perfect. Do they think they could have done better than her, if they were to walk in her shoes? They tend to shut up quickly after that.

‣ I’ve mentioned that I think Ryoma probably doesn’t believe too much in the “women are inherently inferior to men and need to be soft and delicate” idea on the surface, considering he was raised by and is deeply bonded to four (or five, considering Corrin’s gender) strong women, but I think he definitely still has a problem with understanding that protective paternalism isn’t helpful. He’s very absorbed in his expected gender role as a man, to the point that he doesn’t really even consider how patronizing he comes across. He genuinely thinks he’s helping and doing something good, because his one main job in life has been protector. He’s not thinking about how unfair it is to assume that the women in his life need his back-up or can’t handle things, he just thinks he’s being chivalrous.

‣ Not a morning person, mostly because he's a really bad sleeper. Total grumpy grump. He’ll get up when Saizo or Kagero wakes him, but he’s not happy about it. In fact, for the most part they’re very uninvolved in his morning routines because he wants them to stay out of the way. Just give him the clothes and he’ll fuss with his hair and they’ll all be presentable in a bit. Until he’s had his coffee for the day, don’t talk to him. In fact, unless you’re bringing his coffee for the day, don’t talk to him.

‣ Speaking of Ryoma and his terrible sleep schedule, I like to think he is also a 3 a.m. snacker. And not just like, a small snacker — heavy snacks. The reason he knows how to cook is at least partially because he needs to cook his own 3 a.m. meals. His sleep schedule is so bad and his eating schedule isn’t much better. He gets wrapped up in whatever he’s doing and then suddenly eight hours have passed, and all he’s had is a cup of tea. So he goes out to search for and prep midnight eats. Admittedly, he’s a little embarrassed that he does this — especially because, per Revelation, Xander won’t. stop. catching. him. (“Listen — if you would like a helping of beef curry, just ask instead of skulking around in the dark in such a manner!”)

‣ Kinda prefers not being called by his royal title when he can help it. In the Japanese version of Birthright, he actually tells Scarlet to call him by his first name when his identity is revealed (approximations because I am working from memory here, but… ENG: "You may simply call me Lord Ryoma", JPN: "Ryoma is fine"). For close friends, Ryoma will often just ask people to call him by his first name. The title is fine and everything, he cherishes it because it is representative so much and it is technically a gift from his parents, but there’s a certain ease that comes to talking to people without it. It’s like the equivalent of actually being able to let it go for a little bit when his friends don’t feel the need to call him “lord” and “milord”. Honestly, he’ll even allow cutesy nicknames, too… but they do make him a little embarrassed. He’ll never get used to Camilla calling him by her variation of pet names. Just Ryoma is fine, why does she insist on things like ‘honey bun’? (The answer: she likes that it makes him flustered.)

‣ Of all of the Hoshidan royal siblings, it is the most difficult to make him cry, but let it be known that it is not as difficult to make him cry as you think it might be. Still pretty hard, but certain things can and do get the water works flowing. He just also tries rather viciously to deny the tears, so by the end of it when he finally does start to cry, his face is usually quite pink and he’s really trying to hide behind his hair. He finds crying really embarrassing and tries to avoid doing it in public at all costs, but is more likely to allow it if it’s for happy occasions. Like if one of his siblings was getting married? Then it’s okay to be a little glassy-eyed. They’re worth it.

[mamuscript]

They Had To

After we watched the season finale - and then rewatched it, then rewatched both seasons, then watched about a hundred hours of YouTube edits (that last one may have been just me) - we had an hours-long argument about who was “at fault.” After the last ten agonizing minutes of GO2, my hubba was very anti-Aziraphale.

I can’t really blame him for feeling that way - that “I Forgive You” is seared into my soul in a way I’m not ready to forgive Mr. Gaiman for, yet. It was crushing, and the way you could see the hope draining from Crowley is a study in expertise by David Tennant.

I heard someone say recently that you know a storyteller has done their job when you get to the end and, however much you never saw it coming before, once you arrive there, it seems as inevitable as the sun rising in the morning. 

This is the beauty, the agony, and the absolute mastery of the final fifteen minutes of GO2.

Because neither Crowley or Aziraphale could have done anything else in that scene. 

Crowley was cast out of Heaven for what we have reason to believe was a minor infraction. He’s spent millenia witnessing the cruelty, unfairness, and incompetence of Heaven. He looked into Gabriel’s face as the archangel told (who he believed to be) Aziraphale to shut his stupid mouth and die, already. In the deleted scenes, we see that he witnessed Heaven giving a demon permission to humiliate Aziraphale, just for fun, before they killed him - which is the height of cruelty; cruelty for cruelty’s sake. There is no question in Crowley’s mind that Heaven are the bad guys just as much as Hell - possibly more so, since they wear a cloak of righteousness while they commit their atrocities. At least Hell is honest about what they’re doing.

There’s no world in which Crowley could ever agree to go back to working for Heaven, and part of the pain of that scene is that if Aziraphale had taken a moment to really think about it, he would have realized that.

But.

First (and I identify with this way too strongly), Aziraphale is a company man. He knows that there are problems in middle management, but he still believes in the rightness and goodness of God. As far as he’s concerned, Heaven isn’t the archangels or the Metatron; Heaven is God. And while God, as far as he knows, is responsible for the eviction from Eden, and for the flood, and for allowing humans who start off in abject poverty to be judged by the same standards as those who are given more advantages, he also truly believes in the ineffability of God. He was told, long ago, that all of these things are part of the Ineffable Plan, and Aziraphale would never think to believe that anybody was deceiving him - either intentionally or otherwise - without being explicitly told so.

And crucially, he hasn’t seen what Crowley has seen. He didn’t witness - and hasn’t been told about - whatever transgression Crowley committed that resulted in his fall, and however much he has grown to love Crowley for who the demon has become alongside him, he doesn’t have enough information to know that Crowley didn’t deserve to be cast out at the time. And Aziraphale was not there when Gabriel told him to die; he didn’t look into Gabriel’s face and see the pure, cold malevolence there, the proof that however much goodness there may still be in God, She isn’t actively calling the shots, and the beings who are are ruthless and capable of malevolence. He hasn’t had that experience and doesn’t have that depth of understanding.

But most importantly, Aziraphale is, at his core, a being of justice, of love, of goodness. He has seen things like the flood, he knows there are problems, and he has been powerless in the face of them - but now, he can help. “I can make a difference,” he says. Aziraphale, because of his core nature, cannot see an opportunity to make the world and Heaven a better place and not seize it. 

He can’t have made any choice other than the one he made. And if Crowley had taken a moment to really think about it, he would have known that he was asking the impossible.

So, for my money, the tragedy of that scene didn’t begin when Crowley said, “And you told him just where he can stick it, then?” even though that was the beginning of the most painful moments of the series, perhaps of all of television (at least for me). All of that - Crowley’s rejection of Heaven, Aziraphale’s rejection of Crowley’s declaration of love, their brutal separation - was inevitable the second the Metatron put the offer on the table. 

(Which, among other things, means that the Metatron is a deeply manipulative villain.) That’s what makes the final scene so riveting, so painful. It’s not only that we want these two beings to be happy and in love and together, and due to pride and miscommunication they aren't. It’s that with who each of them is in their soul, as things currently stand, they are incapable of being together.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Falling For Your Fools Gold: Chapter 4

A/N: And we’re back babyyyy! Excited to get back into all my chapter WIPs but especially excited to get back to sexy, pirate Cassian ;) Hope everyone enjoys this chapter! Also, I like to imagine Fifth Harmony’s That’s My Girl playing in Cassian’s head at the beginning here. Trigger warning for injuries and blood. 

Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

“One. Two. One. One. Two.”

Nesta follows along to Baz’s instructions, hitting her closed fists against his palms in the combinations he calls out. Even with the linen wrapped around her knuckles, she can feel every punch, but in these past few days, she’s started to relish the ache there, pride swelling deep in her gut as she continues to learn more, continues to grow her own strength. Every bruise, every split knuckle is proof of how far she’s come, how many steps she’s taken away from that rigidity, that expectation that society forced upon her from a too young age, that darkness trapped in the corners of her family’s manor house in Adriata. It’s certainly not how Nesta imagined breaking free and finding her freedom, certainly not how she expected it, but she’s not complaining.

Baz swings his arm across and toward Nesta, but she’s quick to duck out of the way just as she’s been taught. She stands back to her full height, keeping her arms up as she returns to the punch sequence. Another swing of his arm and Baz starts to walk Nesta back across the deck of the ship. She stays light on her feet, moving and dodging and punching until Baz finally drops his hands back to his side with a wide smile.

“Nice,” Baz tells her, shaking out his hands. “I think we can officially declare you’ve mastered hand to hand.”

“Really?” Nesta asks, already feeling excitement building at the prospect of finally graduating to using her dagger.

“I don’t know, Baz. Perhaps she should really test it first.”

Nesta doesn’t even bother swallowing down her sigh or holding back her eye roll. She had hoped that after spending a large sum of Cassian’s money at the market when they were in port, he might finally leave her alone, that they could have some tentative, albeit separate peace between them, but of course things are never that simple.

Instead, Cassian has quietly watched each of Nesta’s sessions with Baz. Most days, he doesn’t say anything, but Nesta will always feel his eyes on her, his gaze burning a wildfire across her skin. Other days, he’ll offer small comments or critiques, and on the rare occasion, he’ll guide Nesta’s movements again. And all the while, Baz will simply stand by looking amused.

Like now.

The first mate in question currently has his lips pressed together, but it does nothing to hide the smirk he’s desperately trying to bite down. His brown eyes practically twinkle with amusement as he watches over Nesta’s shoulder, and Nesta is half tempted to put all her new skills to work, punching him in the face as well as the annoying pirate captain behind her.

“What do you say, princess?” Cassian continues, and even without looking, Nesta can hear that stupid grin dripping from his tone. “Are you up for a little sparring?”

Nesta huffs, but she turns around to face Cassian properly, settling him with her coldest, most unimpressed stare. “Fine, but only because it will give me an opportunity to knock you on your ass.”

“That’s not very ladylike,” Cassian teases, his eyes alight with amusement, but he raises his arms and gets into a fighting stance.

Nesta mirrors Cassian’s stance, her eyes quickly sweeping over his frame, accessing for any tells of what he might do, any weaknesses she might be able to exploit. Cassian circles around her slowly. It’s reminiscent of their first meeting, when he had done the same thing in her cabin on her father’s ship. It already feels like so long ago. Like another life, like a dream. Although, Nesta is beginning to wonder if that life or this one is the nightmare in the end.

Nesta moves in a circle with Cassian, keeping her steps careful so he won’t be able to catch her off balance, so her feet don’t get tangled. She doesn’t miss the way his gaze glances down quickly to her feet, the impressed face he makes. She opens her mouth, a dry remark already poised and ready on the tip of her tongue, but it’s the opening Cassian’s been waiting for. His arm swings out, and Nesta just barely blocks the hit.

Cassian continues the offense, swinging punches in quick succession. Nesta retreats back and away, but he’s quick to follow. As Cassian steps forward to keep up his onslaught, Nesta decides to take advantage of his unbalanced stance, spinning and ducking under his outstretched arm. Unfortunately, she’s only able to land one punch against Cassian’s side before he’s turning as well, blocking her next attempt. He sweeps Nesta’s feet out from under her, and she falls hard against the wood of the deck.

Despite the pain splintering out at the impact, Nesta feels more determined than ever. She jumps up to her feet, and goes on the offense herself, swinging punches until it’s Cassian that’s retreating. She takes advantage of his imbalance again, but this time, she shoves at his chest hard. Cassian goes tumbling back, but his fingers curl around Nesta’s wrist and he pulls her down with him until they both go sprawling across the deck. Nesta is quick to scramble up, straddling Cassian’s chest to pin him down and pressing her forearm against his throat.

“Yield,” Nesta tells him, her voice hard despite the way her chest heaves from the exertion.

“I think you’re the one who needs to yield, Nes.”

Nesta blinks in confusion at Cassian’s words, at the smirk pulled firmly across his face, but rather than say anything more, Cassian merely glances down. Nesta follows his gaze and notices the metal glinting in his hand, the dagger now poised against her abdomen. It takes Nesta’s mind a moment to catch up, to understand exactly what she’s seeing but then her head snaps back up to glare at Cassian.

“You cheated,” Nesta declares, her anger only growing as Cassian continues to smirk unfazed. “It was meant to be hand to hand sparring.”

“I’m sure Baz taught you the first rule of fighting, that there’s no such thing as a fair fight, especially when you’re fighting a pirate.”

Nesta lets out a frustrated growl, shoving off of him. “We go again. A rematch.”

Cassian chuckles, standing up as well and making a big show of dusting off his clothes. “You’re on, sweetheart.”

Nesta resets back into her fighting stance, waiting for Cassian to raise his hands and mirror her. He gives a small nod to indicate he’s ready, and Nesta doesn’t bother waiting for him to make the first move, doesn’t bother staying on the defense. Her anger and frustration feel like a beast writhing deep in her gut, chomping at the bit to be released and desperate for a taste of blood. She throws punches and kick combinations in quick succession, every smack against him sparking within her, every blow landed fanning those flames.

For all that Nesta thinks she has the upper hand, though, Cassian spins them around, knocking Nesta off both her balance and her focus. He wraps his arms around her, holding her back against his chest and pinning her arms to her side. She tries to wriggle free, tries to find enough space that she can make a counter attack, but his hold is firm, his strength clearly outmatching hers.

“Do you yield?” Cassian asks lowly, his breath fanning out hotly against Nesta’s skin.

Nesta lets out a huff, opening her mouth to begrudgingly agree before his words from earlier clang around her mind, an idea quickly forming. She arches her back against him, and with Cassian’s mouth still pressed near her ear, she can hear the way his breath hitches at the gesture. She turns her head to face him, looking up through her lashes and making a big show of glancing toward his lips. As she slowly starts to lean in, she can feel Cassian’s grip finally relaxing.

Once she has the space enough to move, Nesta picks her leg up and stomps her heel down hard against Cassian’s foot, slamming her elbow back into his abdomen. The pirate captain lets out a shout of alarm, but Nesta spins out of his hold and faces him. A hard shove to his chest sends him stumbling back and falling against the deck once again, but this time, Nesta makes sure she steps back before he can latch onto her wrist with his hands.

Nesta walks over to Cassian, pressing her foot against his chest and pinning him down, offering him a smirk of her own. “How’s that for unfair?”

A loud laugh comes from Nesta’s right before Baz pretends to be coughing instead. Nesta expects Cassian to glare at his first mate at the response, but instead his smile is wide as he blinks up at Nesta, and she swears she sees pride twinkling amongst the golds of his hazel eyes.

“I think she’s officially ready for weapons training.”

~ * * * ~

On the fifth day of learning the skills and particulars of the sword with Baz, Nesta steps onto the main deck to find not just the first mate waiting for her, but another pirate as well. It doesn’t take long for Nesta to recognize him as the pirate whose gaze always follows her around the ship with that distrustful look in them. The same gaze he watches her with as she approaches. It has Nesta’s hand anxiously and instinctually going to the hilt of the sword that now sits at her hip.

“Nesta,” Baz greets with that same easy smile he always wears. “I hope you’re ready for today’s lesson.”

“Yes,” Nesta answers cautiously, her eyes glancing toward the other pirate once again.

“I’ve taught you all I really can, and you know practicing makes perfect,” Baz explains after following Nesta’s questioning gaze. “Kallon’s the best swordsman on the ship, so he’s agreed to spar with you.”

“I don’t think he cares for me,” Nesta leans in to whisper to Baz, hoping not to be overheard by Kallon, but judging by the snort from the pirate in question, she wasn’t successful.

“It’s not personal,” Baz offers, his voice quiet as well. “Kallon is just superstitious.”

Nesta continues to eye Kallon dubiously at that, quite confident that it’s more than just his superstition about women on ships, but she doesn’t say anything more on the subject. Baz walks her through a few stretches to start, and then she and Kallon are facing off, swords raised between them.

For a moment, Nesta swears she can see the deep brown of Kallon’s eyes darken, that his mouth quirks up just that smallest bit, but before she can dwell on it, he’s stepping forward and swinging his sword. Nesta is quick to deflect, knocking Kallon’s swing to the right and away from her body, but then the pirate is lunging forward again.

Baz certainly wasn’t kidding about Kallon being a skilled swordsman. His movements are quick and every attack of his sword is filled with enough force that each time Nesta deflects, each time her sword clashes with his, the vibrations shake all the way up her arm. It also means that Nesta spends the entire fight on the defense, never once having an opportunity to advance on him.

As the fight continues to go on, Nesta can feel herself growing more and more tired. Sweat beads along her brow, her chest heaving as she tries to keep up against Kallon’s onslaught of attacks. Her arm feels heavy, the weight of the sword leaving her muscles trembling slightly as she tries to keep it held up. She turns her head back toward Baz, ready to relent and ask that they call it quits for today, but then there’s a sharp pain along her side.

“Kallon! What the fuck?”

Nesta’s sword drops back down to her side. Confused and shocked, she looks down, surprised to find a long tear in her blouse along her ribs, red already beginning to seep in and ruin the white fabric. She presses her hand against the cut, wincing at the pain that ricochets through her body, that radiates from that spot. Her fingers tremble even more when she pulls her hand away and takes in the blood staining her skin.

Her heart pounds in her chest, her ears ringing, and it’s only when a firm hand squeezes at her shoulder, when she looks up and finds Baz’s face right in front of her, that Nesta realizes he was speaking with her. His eyes are swimming with concern, his lips pressed firmly in a frown, as he moves his hand to put pressure against her wound.

“We need to get you to Wiley. Are you okay to walk?” Baz asks, but suddenly Nesta’s mind feels too sluggish, words too far for her to reach. “Nesta.”

Nesta swallows hard, but she offers the pirate a nod. Or her best attempt at a nod. Baz settles Nesta’s arm across his shoulders, gently wrapping his own arm around her waist, and the two of them head below deck. Baz leads them into the makeshift medical cabin, Wiley quickly clearing space for Nesta to lay down. Nesta can’t swallow down her wince as Wiley peels back the fabric of her blouse, pushing it up and away so he can work. He wipes at the gash with a wet piece of cloth then quickly presses another piece of cloth against the wound.

“Hold the pressure,” Wiley instructs Baz, the first mate stepping closer to do just that.

Nesta squeezes her eyes shut, unable to watch as Wiley starts to thread surgical thread through a needle. Already her stomach starts to roil at the implication, her nervousness spiking. She’s never been particularly good when it comes to this sort of thing. Nesta can still remember that time Feyre had fallen out of a tree and seriously injured her arm when they were children.

A shuffle of feet has Nesta’s eyes opening again, and when she turns her head, she finds Cassian now standing in the doorway. His expression is stormy, hazel eyes hard and mouth pinched tightly in a frown. But his gaze doesn’t look toward Nesta, instead it’s pinned to Baz.

“Who?” Cassian asks, a dark promise lacing his voice.

“Kallon,” Baz answers quietly.

Cassian doesn’t say anything more, merely turns on his heel and leaves the cabin. Nesta watches him go, her eyes lingering on the doorway even after he’s vanished from view, and she considers asking Baz what exactly the pirate captain intends to do. But before she can, Wiley steps back over, and Nesta’s stomach drops as her attention is once again drawn back to what’s coming. At the first pinch of the needle against her skin, all Nesta can do is squeeze her eyes shut and focus on her breathing.

After Wiley has stitched, covered her wound, and given her some sort of herbal concoction for the pain, Baz helps Nesta back to her cabin so she can rest. She grabs one of her newly purchased books and curls up with it on the bed, wincing at the stretch and pain in her side until she’s able to find a comfortable position. She only makes it three chapters before the exhaustion of the day starts to weigh down her limbs as surely as it makes her eyelids feel heavy. The book slips from her fingers and into the blankets, and soon, Nesta is giving in to sleep’s siren song.

She’s awoken by the sound of clattering against wood. She blinks her eyes open, and it takes her a few moments to adjust to the sudden darkness of the room, just the candlelight casting the whole space in a soft, orange glow. Her mind still feels foggy with the remnants of sleep clinging to it, her limbs still sluggish and heavy. The whole thing leaves her feeling disorientated, having no idea how long she was sleeping.

She finds Cassian standing over by the desk, a bowl and plate of bread in front of him seeming to be the culprit of the clatter. As if he can feel Nesta’s eyes on him, he turns his head to meet her gaze. The candlelight leaves his face cut in shadows, draws emphasis to the scar on his cheek and through his eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Cassian offers quietly. “I just wanted to make sure you ate something.”

Cassian picks up the dishes and walks over toward the bed, holding them out for Nesta to take. She reaches out and does just that, but her eyes catch on Cassian’s hands. His knuckles are split, dried blood smeared across the skin there. The sight has Nesta’s breath catching. Part of her wants to ask, wants to hear Cassian say the words she knows would come, but she swallows them down.

With a muttered thanks, Nesta settles the dishes in her lap, picking through the fruit and cheese before deciding to tear off a piece of bread and nibbling on that. She can still feel the licking flames of Cassian’s intense gaze on her, but when she glances up, his eyes aren’t on her face, but pinned to her side.

“It’s probably best to change to a fresh bandage, just to be safe,” Cassian explains, reaching out his hand before he seems to catch himself. “May I?”

Nesta nods her head, scooting forward on the bed to give him better access and lifting the hem of her blouse. Cassian unwinds the cloth Wiley had tied around her waist with careful fingers, and Nesta tries and fails to bite back a wince when he pulls the cloth away from her skin. She turns her head away, not particularly interested in seeing what she’s sure is still a nasty wound, but thankfully, Cassian doesn’t comment on her squeamishness. He merely steps over to the basin of water and soaks a cloth in it.

His hands are surprisingly gentle as he slides the wet cloth over the affected area, his fingers slow and careful. He cleans the wound with such tenderness that Nesta finds herself looking toward him in surprise, but Cassian keeps his head bowed. His hair falls forward against his shoulders, scraping against his temples and framing his face. His eyebrows are drawn low, hazel eyes flickering in the candlelight even as they stayed focused on the task at hand.

As if he can feel Nesta’s gaze on him, Cassian looks up, his hand stilling as their eyes meet.

“Does it hurt still?” Cassian asks, his voice quiet. “I can ask Wiley for more tea for the pain.”

“It’s alright. It’s nothing I’m not used to.”

The comment has Cassian frowning, his lips parting and a question seemingly poised on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down. He steps away from Nesta, setting down the cloth he used to clean her wound and grabbing a fresh, dry one. He wraps the fresh cloth around Nesta’s waist, her skin prickling with each pass of his fingers against it. The feeling soon morphs into another wince, though, when he ties a knot directly over the wound, keeping the pressure tight.

“Thank you,” Nesta tells him, tugging her blouse back down.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Cassian replies, washing his hands and then his face in the water basin.

Nesta nods, but there’s a part of her that feels like she does, a part of her that wants to thank him for more than just helping to clean her wound. It’s a voice that goads and whispers in the back of her mind, reminding her of the freedom she’s found on this ship despite being a prisoner. If she can even still call herself a prisoner at this point. It reminds her that she’s been given the opportunity to learn to fight, allowed to truly be herself with no one to reprimand her for sharing her opinion or being too harsh with her words. There’s no more societal shackles nor fresh scars; at least, not the scars born from the shadows that still seemed to lurk in every corner of that manor house even after her grandmother and mother had passed.

The words weigh heavy on Nesta’s tongue, pressing against her windpipe until a lump is lodged firmly in her throat, but she can’t seem to squeeze them out. She can’t find the way to thank Cassian for what he’s unknowingly gifted her by bringing her onto his ship. The idea of thanking a pirate, thanking the infamous Lord of Bloodshed for that matter, is terrifying.

But even more terrifying still, is just how much Nesta would mean it.

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist​ @nesquik-arccheron​ @sv0430​ @talkfantasytome​ @bookstantrash​ @eirini-thaleia​ @ubigaia​ @fromthelibraryofemilyj​ @luivagr-blog​ @superspiritfestival​ @hiimheresworld​ @marigold-morelli​ @sweet-pea1​ @pyxxie​ @dustjacketmusings​ @hallway5​ @dongjunma​ @glowing-stick-generation​ @melonsfantasyworld​ @isterofimias​ @goddess-aelin​ @melphss​ @theladystardust​ @a-trifling-matter​ @blueunoias​ @kookskoocie​ @cassiansbigwingspan​ @unlikelypersonalknight1​​ @blurredlamplight​

[abbysbasement]

LIFE WITH TINY/CHIBI ABBY

was thinking about that Abby sackboy from yesterday, and felt like having a little Abby of my own was a life need. insp a little bit by those early 2010s fanfiction of ‘owner manuals’ for chibi characters! enjoy your own adorable tiny abby. sfw/fluff

🥺 I truly cannot decide if she’s plushie sized or super tiny, hamster-sized BUT SHES LITTLE.

- at first glance, the idea of having your own tiny abby feels like having a house pet, right? but in reality, she’s a very intelligent, sensitive little creature, and it’s a job in its own keeping her happy, healthy, and alive.

- a bit of a crybaby, and if she feels rejected, will go off into a corner and sulk. will not talk to you about it. if you ask her if she’s crying, no, she never cries! (with tears pooling, obviously.)

- please don’t lift the poor thing up by her braid, it gets her dizzy and upsets her. hold her gently in two palms, or scooped into one of your arms! abby will typically nestle up into any loose clothing you have, and it isn’t uncommon to feel a strange heaviness on the back of your neck and find her sleeping in your hood!

- hyperactive and easy for her to disappear on you, only to find her tearing up your towel rack, or spinning around while riding a Roomba. Try setting up an endurance course for her to do if you enjoy peace and quiet, because she can and will turn your house inside out if you let her.

- abby’s favourite passtime is reading and loves to curl up on your chest while you read a book to her, especially if she gets to pick out the book. she loves fantasy books, not so much nonfiction, and if a book is too scary, it’ll give her bad nightmares. it’s common that if your tiny abby won’t fall asleep, the best practice is to read to her until she dozes off. sometimes, this might backfire, and you’ll end up being asked for ‘one more chapter’ until the night ends.

- refuses to sleep in or let you sleep in. rises early in the morning way before the rooster crows, and will nudge your head over and over until you wake up. if that doesn’t work, be prepared to get jumped on until you’re ready for your day, she needs to pick off your breakfast, remember?

- a heavy eater, and even if you make her her own meals, she’ll usually end up picking off of yours anyways. truly eats much more than you’d imagine such a compact frame to hold, and if you let her, will eat eggs until she gets sick. loves treats, and will sit quietly if you leave her sitting next to a plate of strawberries or sweet apple slices. if she ever gets a hold of caffeine, good luck.

- practically has no concept of danger; everything is a fun adventure to her no matter how much you try to keep her out of harms way. you might have to baby proof your entire house, because no matter how many times you tell her not to do something, a tiny abby is a miniature juggernaut, and a little shit who will get into anything any everything. known to become uneasy and disoriented at extreme heights, so it’s best to keep valuables on a high table or shelf.

- as an extension to her occasionally self-serving nature, tiny abby is prone to attitudes and throws a fit when she’s told no. you’d have her sitting on your desk while surfing the web or working, and she’d get so frustrated after being told that you weren’t ready to log off that she’d try to somehow find her way down herself. Next thing you know, against both of your better judgements, she’s swan diving off of your desk, leaving you to catch her moments before she collided with the hard floor. Somehow this causes you to dote and baby her more, so mission failed successfully?

- even though she’s comparatively so small, abby is bigger and stronger than most where she’s from, so she has a strong urge to be useful, even when she’s completely out of her little depth. will pick up and put down random items to show off to you, and will get disheartened if you don’t look and cheer EVERY time. yes, even if she’s picked up your wallet 6 times today. typically, this takes the form of helping you out with all of your chores in any way she can: holding out your ingredients for you when you cook, or adding the detergent pods to the wash when you do laundry (even though she accidentally fell in once while putting them, oops!) when she’s mad though? expect her to take out her frustration by throwing all of your shit on the floor, pushing your cup of tea off of your desk like a cat, or hiding all of your stuff in spots only she can get to. unfortunately, she’s too cute to be mad at for long, even when she feels all too satisfied with her mischief.

- definitely uses it to her advantage. needs attention, and will have a fit if she isn’t constantly by your side, or if you leave the house for too long, as she gets really lonely. fortunately, there are always new friends for your tiny Abby to make, and she places well with a Tiny Manny or Tiny Lev and Yara. if you value your mental health, personal belongings and inner peace, do NOT place her with a Tiny Ellie, as they are not compatible and *will* raise hell and cause catastrophe.

- is very enamored by the concept of glass, and got knocked out for a couple of minutes by running full speed into a door once. put her in front of a mirror, and she’ll be entertained for hours wondering how you got two of her, how there’s even more than one of her to begin with.

- it’s recommended to sleep abby in her own area, such as a little bed, or a pillow with a tiny sheet or blanket, but sometimes, if she truly trusts and love you, your tiny abby will come and sleep with you on her own accord. just be careful not to roll over her!