#unconventional throwing weapons

[yourplayersaidwhat]

For context, earlier I got a bag of beans, put three of them in a small container with dirt, and poured water in when battle started.

DM: (explaining how the town is overrun with other monsters)

Me: Alright, it’s nearly been a minute now. I throw the bean-nade.

(The whole party knows something’s about to go down)

DM: The bottle explodes, roll for the effects.

Me: First effect… Pink toads.

DM: Ok, and second?

Me: That would be a geyser. Pick a liquid.

DM (with some encouragement from the party): Alright, why not. Let’s go with vodka.

Me: Third effect… Oh no. That’s the campfire.

(The town proceeds to burst into flames as the party makes their escape)

[temeyes]

dad-daughter bonding ft. ghost and his bubba girl

[oxydiane]

sns is so fucking unhinged and nobody will ever be them i’m sorry. you start the series and it’s like oh haha look at these goofy angsty rivals! they hate each other! then sasuke dies for naruto thirty chapters in giving up his dream of revenge and naruto goes batshit insane. now you’re like ah they’re friends i guess that’s cute! and sasuke is trying to kill naruto because he’s the most important person in his life which is . ok and it becomes the driving force of everything or something. sasuke leaves and naruto dedicates the rest of his life to bringing him back and you’re still a casual fan so ur like he’s doing it for the promise right? then orochimaru says sasuke is his and naruto goes batshit insane feral homicidal (again) and after that sasuke reappears and they have ??? like five different panels dedicated to them staring at each other??? and he jumps off a mountain and hugs naruto for some reasons just to whisper some gay shit in his ear kishimoto frankly needs to be jailed drawing this and keep that best friend nonsense going. anyways. you have sasuke become a convicted terrorist to which the normal people response is “ok we need to hunt him down” and when naruto learns they’re gonna hunt him down he starts screaming crying throwing up he has a panic attack he can’t breathe he’s falling in the snow he gets on his knees and begs them to spare his BFF. after having a meltdown over the thought of sasuke dying what may possibly be the natural coping mechanism any stable person would adapt? of course realising that if sasuke dies he can die too. so he sees sasuke again and after he attempts murdering sakura twice and expresses the intent to murder kakashi he’s like. i will bear the burden of your hatred and die with you hehe and if we both die you won’t be an uchiha and i won’t be the jinchuuriki to the nine tails and we’ll be able to understand each other better in a different lifetime! WE’LL MEET AGAIN IN THE AFTERLIFE BECAUSE NOT EVEN DEATH CAN DO US PART! and sasuke (just as insane as him) doesn’t even flinch he’s like what the fuck is wrong with you but then ok let’s fuckingggf die together on my god i will kill your first anyways . then they find out they are soulmates and get cute matching tattoos on their hands and decide to fight to the death once more because sasuke is back on his i will shoulder all the hatred of the world alone and i need to kill you because i love you more than anyone else in the world actually you’re the only person i love so you need to DIE and naruto is like I WILL NOT LET YOU SHOULDER THAT HATRED ALONE I WILL FREE YOU FROM THE PAIN and they fight and despite all the whatever weapons used in the war it’s a fuckinggg fistfight in which just as sasuke is about to inflict what he thinks is the last blow says “farewell… my one and only…………………. (very long pause to accentuate how heteronormative this next word is gonna be) FRIEND” and fucking stops using his sharingan because not even then he can record the image of naruto dying especially by his hand but naruto STOPS HIM LIKE A f cHAMP and they end up blowing each other’s arms off (rip the matchies) and as they’re bleeding to the fucking death sasuke is like you’re the only person that has never tried to severe their ties with me why do you go so far for me and naruto from the depths of comphet hell is like because you’re my FRIEND and sasuke being absolutely done with this bullshit is like ok what the fuck does that mean to you then and this is where it gets even gayer and relatable because naruto is like i don’t KNOW i just know that when you hurt i hurt and i just can’t take it and isn’t that the most gay experience thing ever? naruto knows what it feels like to have friends but what he feels for sasuke is so bone deep and unconventional that he cannot make sense of it and can only describe the pain it brings. after that sasuke CRIES LIKE THEYVE GOT ME SOOO FUCKED UP but you know what got me even more fucked up?

naruto waking up bloodied and battered and half alive with one arm missing but still wondering if that was heaven because sasuke was next to him. sasuke looking so happy and peaceful when saying “i lost” as a stark contrast to him looking and feeling like half of his body was being torn apart when he “won” against naruto in vote1 and left him. the bitterness of victory vs the sweetness of losing if you will. AND HIM COMPARING WHAT HE FEELS FOR NARUTO TO PRAYING MY GODD. did i forget to mention that then we learn that Ohhh it was never a stupid shallow rivalry as we all thought! they have actually been watching each other from afar since they were little freshly traumatised children and have longed to hold each other’s hands since then! what was it sasukeeee you felt warm and fuzzy when you saw naruto to thought of it as a weakness? these two are so astronomically hopelessly desperately obsessed in love with each other it’s ridiculous i’ve had ENOUGH free me from this mental prison

[kafkasmeow]

GI. ꗃ For the Tsaritsa (I)

part 1 part 2 part 3 etc

3.1 k words ─ reaction! ─ wriothesley x reader ─ second pov! reader ─ angst and fluff ─ reader wears heels and a corset but that’s it ─ cryo / dendro ─ i usually don’t write toxic relationships but it made sense this time around

summary ─ their reaction to their partner being a fatui harbinger - including diluc, zhongli, xiao, kazuha, wriothesley ─ reaction, headcanon ─ vision and delusion wielder reader ─ use of unconventional weapons ─ gn reader (with small hiccups in editing)

disclaimer ─ this is a reaction headcanon, with strong mentions of death, injuries, blood and violence and profanities. some of the fics do not have happy endings and the reader is depicted as a villain, unreliable and is not meant to be liked. some of the imagines can be brutal, caution is adviced.

wriothesley

You and the fortress’ warden had met trough simple ways, much like he meets any other person that arrives there. As an inmate. 

You arrived early one morning, dried blood still on your cheeks and clothes, with a dead stare in your eyes, one he knew far too well. Your presence alone prompted rumours over rumours, inmates fighting to get a glance as the guards paraded you trough the halls on your journey to your cell, and the shouts coaxed Wriothesley out of his study with a sleep-drunk expression on his face. 

“Serial killer.” The guards explained quickly when he got close enough to see what the attraction was. “The Chief Justice didn’t even wish to have a trial. Sentenced to life the second he saw them.” But no one knew any more information to help him out, and while he rarely searched for reason in the Fortress of Meropide, he itched for answers. 

He watched you carefully that day, as you were guided forward by the most skilled guards, with chains on your hands and head pushed down, as if your gaze alone would be deadly. You were barely any taller than half of him, standing on week knees that trembled with every step you took, and if it wasn’t for your dead eyes or the blood all over you, he would have wondered if you were really capable of harm.

No one wanted to talk more about the situation behind your imprisonment, at least not for long. They all gritted their teeth and shook their heads when he asked, like even thinking about you would be a death sentence to them, and when he summoned for all records of your actions, he found only a bunch of redacted documents. All he could gather, trough bits and pieces, is that your presence here needed to be kept under wraps for a reason or another, and the scene the police stumbled upon your arrest.

“It was a bloodbath, your grace.” Clorinde told him once as she came to him for an errand from the Iudex. She seemed off, even her emotionless eyes were filled with some degree of fear in them. “I’m no stranger to death but this,” She cleared her throat and chose to cut their chat short, settling on a warning. Something smelled fishy, he would conclude, but this was not his first rodeo with difficult cases, and yours didn’t take long to crack.

“Keep an eye on them.” And he did, but perhaps not in a way she would approve of. Wriothesley found himself colliding with you every single step he took outside of his study then on, and never under intentional circumstances. 

The first time it happened, you were simply eating at the canteen when chaos broke loose. He had barely exited his office, just in time to see one of the inmates throw his plate at you in challenge. “You filthy rat! How dare you-” The warden watched bewildered as guards jumped from their place, taking the man away and you simply sat there, like nothing happened. Food dripped down your clothes and face, but you simply brought your spoon to your mouth and ate quietly without complaining. All the while dark and hostile eyes watched you from every corner of the hall, and your own where chaining Wriothesley’s feet to the ground he stood on with something akin fear.

The second time you met was in the infirmary. Sigewinne had your bloody knuckles in her tiny hands with bandages cradled in her lap and alcohol stained cotton agains your open cuts. The first thing Wriothesley noticed then was the bruised corner of your lips, your bleeding nose and the open cuts on your cheeks. His heart stopped beating for a second, a disbelieving puff leaving his nose. You were so much trouble already, just by your existence in his prison, and now you were causing problems yourself? 

His nurse, however, had pity in her eyes. She tutted. “I can’t stand having to bandage you up every single day. They keep trying to snuff them up, your grace! This poor soul.” She protested, and that was the first time he ever heard your voice. “It’s quite alright, miss.” Your face stayed cold, but there was kindness in your eyes, and your voice was far softer than he thought it’d be. And he couldn’t help but sit with the two of you, pushing Sigewinne’s buttons until he had every single name of the ones that tried to “snuff” you out.

It was much later that he found out what had happened exactly, and why people were so, so hostile towards you. After a couple of weeks of sitting with you and Sigewinne in the infirmary, he couldn’t handle the stress any longer. 

Wriothesley had you sitting in his office with a calming rose tea settled on the table in front. The sweet smell made your shoulders ease and you begun wondering if he would have really done so much for you if you were called in for some troubles you caused. His soft eyes, however, reassured you, and you took the delicate mug to your lips. Wriothesley didn’t say much afterwards. He simply called you in the morning and had you sit with him, giving you a book to read or a pile of paper to sort trough, and never talked to you a word more. He was protecting you, you realised. From the other prisoners, who were still hungry for blood, even as you left your chamber straight thing in the morning and returned late night. 

Little did the ice duke know, it was the inmates he was doing a favour to. 

With each day passing, more and more eyes stared you down. More and more rumours surfaced. More and more and more and more and you were suffocating upon their vicious presences, fingers itching for something you could not allow yourself to give into. 

“Do you have a family out there?” The warden asked all of a sudden one day. You snapped from your trance, a soft “huh?” Getting past your lips. “Do you have a family on the surface? I don’t know, a lover? Parents? Someone?” Your fingers tightened on the book you were skimming and gave him a weak nod after weighting your words. “I have a red fox with a clipped tail. He usually bares his teeth when he sees me, or any other pet around my home. And a Black Widow,” Wriothesley gave you an unsure stare, and his curiosity coaxed you to speak again. “That counts as family, does it not?” 

Question over question followed the days following. Favourite place in Fontaine? Favourite book? At first it was trivial questions, easy for you to mumble one worded answers, until they were not, and you found you didn’t wish to speak one word at a time any longer. His presence became comforting, and after work, you’d come straight to his office to share the latest idea you thought of. He would sit down and listen, laugh and smile to you, and for once, you didn’t feel the weight of your duty crush your shoulders any longer. So how could you not crack when his fingers reached for a loose strand of your hair and how could he not let his ice-cold palm rest against your burning skin. 

“What happened to you?” He asked softly. “How did you get here?” And how could you not indulge him.

Pulling away, you sat in the couch next to him, and he placed his coat over your shoulders as you brought a freshly brewed tea cup in your lap. “I was part of a sick joke.” You muttered trough gritted teeth and tightly pressed lips. To your surprise, he didn’t notice the way your reflection did the complete opposite in the shaky tea surface, smiling like an expecting devil. So you told him pretty lies, weaved together by a fraying string of truth. You couldn’t tell him that you killed a whole ballroom of nobles at the command of a frigid queen, so you told him you were part of the goods they were betting on. You couldn’t tell him that you were doing it for your own selfish reasons, especially as you watched your siblings bleed to death, so you told him you snapped in anger when an old man called you his personal toy. Lies and lies until his eyes were wide in horror and hands trembling on anger. You forced tears to run down your cheeks, and abstained from smiling when he brought you in a shaky hug. You had him under your fingertips, and the praise you’d receive when returning home with his head on a pedestal made your toes curl. 

But something changed. You never felt guilty for lying and twisting people to your own pleasures but somehow, when you looked into Wriothesley’s eyes and he watched back with such a sweet stare, your knees would shake with shame. He lived trough this, you realised in horror. He lived your story once before, and your shame would deepen the more he opened up to you. Each moment when his longing kisses would caress your cheeks, a piece of you lost itself into a puddle of unfamiliar guilt.

You knew the little love you built on a foundation of lies would crumble soon. You had a bargain with a certain mistress, and her patience was thinning as seconds passed. 

Then that day came, not that long after the chaos wrecked by a certain red fox with a clipped tail  and three little rascals you had no name for. He told you specifically not to come to his chambers at that time. He had a guest, someone dangerous, and he wished to keep you away from their grasps. Little did you know, her presence was there for none other than yourself. You ran out of time, and now you had no way of ever coming clean to him. 

The room around him felt suffocating, as though it was closing in and getting smaller and smaller until he couldn’t handle the claustrophobic sensation anymore. Wriothesley tugged at his tie, clearing his throat with an awkward pang in his voice. He sat at his desk, a place he usually associated with comfort. Under any usual circumstances, it would be comforting, really. A mellow feeling would settle in his chest at the though of afternoon tea with a plume in his hands, paperwork in piles at his desk. He couldn’t help it, the routine comforted him more than anything, almost more than your sweet voice did.

Across from him, with her hands on her crossed knees, was Father herself. She sat with her back straight, like a noble who grew with manners rooted into her very being. She knew something he didn’t, her very presence in his office proving as such, yet eyes reminded him of the status he would never have, of the scum his very being meant to her, and he couldn’t stand it. He sighed, trying to mirror her indifference and his nails dug crescent shapes into his palms, knuckles white against the seat’s armrests. 

“I deeply apologise for the inconvenience my children have caused you.” Father finally spoke, feigning a deeply annoyed expression. Her fingers massaged the bridge of her nose, and she rolled her shoulders. Wriothesley wished to scoff, answer that “inconvenience” was a small word for the chaos that her “children” brought upon the poor warden, but he only nodded deeply. “But that is not all there is, is it?” He chimed in. She only nodded.

“As much as I quite enjoy idle chatting, there is a request I have to you.” How arrogant, he thought to himself. First they use his fortress as a hub for their shady plans, and now they want a favour. He had it in himself to refuse without even hearing her out, but his lips pressed against each other in curiosity. 

“Is it about that ginger harbinger of yours?” At his words, her eyebrows raised, only for a second, and before he could take pride in her confusion, her face was back to the same unreadable expression. “No, not quite. I am not very interested in the business of my fellow harbingers, you see.” She let her elbow rest on her knee, and her chin in her palm. Her stare was unchanging. “Usually.” She added suddenly. 

Unbeknownst to the warden, at the very same moment he was serving tea with his guest, you were being helped into thick furs and expensive silks by one of Arlecchino’s children. The cat girl remained quiet as she laced your corset and draped the fur coat around your shoulders. An uniform that grew unfamiliar to you with the months you’ve spent in cheap jail clothing. 

“Then, if it’s not about the ginger, what are you here for, Father?” Wriothesley pressed harder, his annoyance beginning to reflect in the way he spoke. The woman smiled and nodded her head before she spoke again, a new fire burning in her eyes. “You see, I made a bargain with one of my colleagues. Naturally, when they failed to show up with their payment, I began to fret.” He listened, unsure of how her story tied to the fortress or him at all. The man puffed. “Imagine my surprise when I found out they’d been arrested and sent to the most guarded jail in all of Teyvat!” The Father’s hands flew, palms upwards as if she demanded answers from him, and he stilled at her words. 

Your heels clicked agains the floor of the fortress, and you felt their eyes prickle at your back just like they did your first day here. Lynette and Lyney followed behind you with confidence in each of their step, like they lived for the attention, and you felt your body slip back into old habits as you walk straighter, taller, prouder. 

Back in the office, Wriothesley pushed himself up from his desk and took cautious steps to the sofa, where you’d always seat with a pleasant smile on your lips. “And pray tell, who really is this colleague of yours?” Arlecchino only shrugged. “They should be joining us soon, really soon.” And the second her threatening words left her lips, the copper door to his chambers twisted.

No one spoke as a dangerous clicking of heels took to the stairs, followed by the much softer steps  of the two children. When you reached the study, you were met with the sturdy back of your so called lover, and the bemused face of Father, who barked a laugh when you nodded your head her way. “You look pathetic. Like you haven’t seen sun in months.” The warden didn’t dare turn around, already feeling the edge of betrayal, a blade that danced around his neck right in this moment. But you refused to cower before someone like Arlecchino, ranked underneath you yet cocky enough to mock you. 

“Because I have not.” You said dangerously, and the man between you two snapped his head back to look at you with wild eyes. He took you in with fury and disbelief in his gaze, watching how your expensive clothes hugged your body and how the traditional Snezhnayan accessories fit you, like they were part of your very existence. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, even as Arlecchino threw you a jewel he refuse to acknowledge the very existence of. Wriothesley searched for your eyes, hoping for you to half turn around and act as though you had no idea what was happening, but you stood tall and braved his gaze back. As though you never shared any kisses, any nights or any ‘I love you’s with him. 

You carefully pinned the cryo delusion next to the dendro vision on your coat’s collar, and it fell in place as though it was always meant to stay there, like a piece of the puzzle that was you had finally snapped into place, and he saw the truth he knew crumble before his own grasps. “Let me properly introduce myself, then.” You spoke to your lover. “My name is [Y/n], the Third Harbinger under her majesty, the Tsaritsa. I would say it has been a pleasure to stay in the Fortress of Meropide, but I’m afraid I would lie.”  

To say he was betrayed was an understatement. Wriothesley would hate you before you even told him the whole truth, and he would wait for no answers before trying to take you down himself.

He would fail, of course, and once his face would meet the cold floor, he would break with silent tears. In the same time, the poison you slipped in his goblet the day before would begin to kick in. It was not enough to kill him, you assured, just enough to make him sleepy. It would keep him obedient for the travels, after all, he was your newest pet. Before he could make out what your words even meant, his eyes would close and he would find himself in a deep slumber. 

Arlecchino took payment in favours, you learned, drawing patterns between her previous bargains and the one she would strike with you that day in the Duke’s study. But you couldn’t complain, not even when she left you to deal with a prison full of violent inmates. “Don’t kill them all.” She called while taking her children and leaving you alone in the study. 

When Wriothesley opened up his eyes, he was no longer in his chambers, but under thick layers of fur, and when his eyes gazed upon the window next to the bed he laid in, in horror, he realised he was no longer in Fontaine either. 

It would take you a long time to convince him to even listen to your explanation, but he never attempted to leave your side when he followed you from Snezhnaya to Fontaine and back. Not even when he simply refused to speak to you all together. The Tsaritsa would laugh with a full chest at how foolish his love for you was, and you couldn’t help but agree. 

But he stayed. No matter how mad, he stayed by your side. And when you’d come back drained in blood and death, he would simply take your fur mantle off and kiss your skin as he’d rid you of your guilt. 

In the end, he’d never really trust you again like before, but you were willing to sit by his side and learn to love him truly, safe to say more than an owner would love a guard dog, while he would learn to trust you again. He’d forgive you, but never forget the betrayal. 

[docgold13]

Heroes & Villains The DC Animated Universe - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

The Justice Lords 

The tyrannical Justice Lords were an alternate universe version of the Justice League who existed in a parallel dimension.  This alternate reality was nearly entirely similar to that of the main DCAU with the significant distinction that the League had decided to take an extreme and authoritarian approach to enforcing their view of justice.  

In this universe, Lex Luthor had become the President of The United States and his constant machinations to defeat the League resulted in his murdering The Flash.  The death of his friend pushed Superman beyond his breaking point and he ruthlessly assassinated President Luthor. It was an act that set in motion a series of events that resulted in the League ultimately embracing a fascist approach to enforcing order.  These one-time heroes became the ‘Justice Lords’ and took over control of the earth.  There was peace and order, but no freedom; the populace obeyed the law out of fear and the threat of extreme retribution.  

Following their total conquest of earth, Batman discovered the multiverse and found that there were other earths that were still in the throws disorder.  Compelled by both their delusional righteousness and a thirst for conquest, The Justice Lords invaded the neighboring reality to enforce unto this world the same tyrannical order that they had achieved on their own realm.  

Their first step in accomplishing this goal was to neutralize their parallel counterparts, which they were able to do with ease in that the Justice League never suspected their analogs would turn on them.  The Justice League were then imprisoned on the counter earth while the Justice Lords began implementing their draconian rule over the new earth.  

Whilst evenly matched, The Justice League had an advantage over their counterparts: their Flash was still alive.  He was able to escape confinement and freed the other.  The prime Earth Batman was then able to demonstrate to his counterpart the folly of his ways, how this Batman had betrayed the core principles of the mission they both shared.  And with the other Batman’s aid, The League were able to escape back to their original world.  

Once there, the League opted for an desperate and unconventional stratagem for defeating the remaining Justice Lords.  They offered Lex Luthor a full pardon in exchange for his building a weapon that could nullify super powers.  Working together with Batman, Luthor was able to complete this weapon and it proved effective in de-powering the Justice Lords.  Once defeated, the Lords were sent back to their original world and their ultimate fate remains untold.  

Although the League had triumphed and saved the day, it came at a heavy price.  Not only was Luthor now free to sew whatever discord he invariably had planned, but the general public had seen firsthand the dire threat that could unfold were super humans to ever choose to embrace a might-makes-right attitude.  The League’s ability to conquer the world seemed a suddenly plausible and frightening potentiality.  

The Justice Lords featured in the twelfth and thirteenth episodes of the second season of Justice League, ‘A Better World Parts I and II.’

[honeyxbee]

The Hunt

Choso x fem!reader

Day 4 ― Vampire TW: NSFW, Attempted murder words: 434

The distinct smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke wafts through the air of the nightclub, the flashing lights causing a subtle throbbing in your temples. You mentally curse yourself for not taking a painkiller before you left your house.

It's a Friday night, so it's no surprise it's packed ― loud.

You tell yourself that it's a good thing.

You readjust the hem of your dress slightly, your eyes scanning the room until they land on a black-haired man sitting at the corner of the bar. You quickly leave the booth you were at and make your way over, sliding onto the bar stool beside him and greeting him with a flirty smile. "Hi there, pretty boy. Come here often?"

And after that, it's almost too easy.

He's already tugging at your clothes by the time you make it through his front door; you barely manage to get him into his bedroom. You push him onto his bed and crawl on top of him, undoing his pants and dragging them down his legs. His pair of boxers is soon to follow, though you playfully swat his hand away when he tries to pull your dress up. "I want you to fuck me with it on," you purr in his ear, and that seems to be enough for him. You're thankful.

After all, it would ruin everything if he noticed the stake strapped to your thigh.

Killing vampires isn't nearly as easy as it looks in movies ― no, they're careful, intelligent. So sometimes, you have to go with more.. unconventional methods. Sex is surprisingly effective, especially for younger ones who aren't as cautious.

You've done this dozens of times; it's become almost routine. You slowly sink down on his cock, making him hiss quietly. Your eyes remain fixated on his face as you begin rocking your hips, and when his eyes squeeze closed in pleasure, you just have to grab the steak and plunge it into his-

He catches it.

You blink, and then you let out a small yelp as he flips you over so that he's on top of you. He grins, easily prying the weapon out of your hand and throwing it across the room. "That wasn’t very nice," he mumbles, nuzzling his face into your neck as he begins thrusting in and out of you at a fast pace.

"A-Ah! Wait," you stammer, but he makes no move to slow his movements. Instead, you feel your heart sink when he nudges his fangs against the side of your neck.

"Don't worry. It'll feel good once I make you like me."

[brucewaynehater101]

WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPT #7

Only for emergencies, unconventional weapon, magic with a cost, "It's us or them"

Brief synopsis: Tim has a plan that Bruce can't find out about

Bruce would rather die than kill. It's his ironclad belief and a boundary he seemingly will never cross.

This is why he and Jason scream themselves hoarse or pummel each other on Gotham's rooftops. The younger man claims this is why so many of the Bats have died. Bruce's unwillingness to accept murder by his own hands or those of his children is ultimately their downfall.

This is one of the several reasons why Tim has contingencies Bruce is unaware of. That, and the man's consistent effort to shape Tim’s paranoia even against their family.

During a month-long JL space mission where Batman's presence is necessary, the other Bats stay behind to cover Gotham. Their relationships to each other and Bruce are wobbly, but at a higher point. They even have the occasional hangout and casual interactions.

Tim will initiate individual or small group gatherings, but he's never tried to jam all of the batkids into one room together. Not before this, anyhow.

Due to this reason as well as their current friendliness with each other, all of them agree to meet at Tim's Nest. He prepared a meeting table, chairs, snacks, pizza, drinks, and a projector in his version of the batcave.

He spends three hours lecturing them on several plans that Bruce is never to hear about. He starts off soft with stuff like safehouses, vehicles, and weapons Bruce doesn't know about. He then goes into truth serums, media strategies, and extreme force measures.

He ends the meeting with the one procedure he was nervous about.

“I could have kept this from you. In fact, you should be aware that I have contingencies some or none of you are aware of. Plans I hope to never initiate.”

He sighs as his eyes flicker back to the slide. “This would be the absolute worst case scenario with no other options. I would expect each of us to exhaust all methods before we try this.”

He glances at each of the batkids despondently. “I don’t care if you'd rather sacrifice yourselves. I can't lose you. I won't. Not again.” His eyes linger on Dick, Steph, Cass, Jason, and Damian specifically, but he tries to nonverbally communicate his unwillingness to lose Duke or Barbara either.

The others may not agree or be happy with the plan, but they allow Tim to have it. They accept their role in it as well. Given their work, all they can do is hope the need never arises.

~~~

Of course, the time occurs like they all feared it would.

Their father, Bruce Wayne, stares at his kids with open fear. He can't see a way out of this and he's already envisioning his children dead and dying. The World's Greatest Detective can't find a way out of this.

He would willingly sacrifice his life for his kids, but even that is not an option. His death would afford them mere minutes.

He’s watched all of his children, officially or not, throw themselves at the issue again and again. Each came up with more erratic and desperate plans. All of the plans failed or wouldn't work.

He also notices when each member finally gives up, as they, one by one, turn to Tim. Red frantically shakes his head and types faster, eyes flying over multiple computer screens as he tries to find any other answer.

“Red Robin.”

The vigilante refuses to acknowledge Nightwing. There must be another way. He will not utilize that spell, the one that will obliterate thousands of lives, unless he's absolutely sure there are no other avenues. They are running out of time, but surely there's another way.

“Tim-”

“No! I can find a way. I can!” He's not even looking at Dick as his eyes scour over the multiple computer screens. If he can just figure this out, he will soothe the dejected lines in Dick's face as well.

A hand settles on Tim's shoulder. “We're going to die.”

Finally, Red’s hands pause. He's frozen as the weight of the words and their hidden meaning cause his shoulders to slump in defeat. “Fuck.”

The others in the room refuse to make eye contact as they come to terms with their decision. Bruce's eyes dart between his kids with a puzzled frown. He's analyzing the situation but doesn't have all of the clues.

With the grave expressions on all of his children's faces, he is not expecting Red Robin to pull a pink rubber duck from his belt. Tim approaches Bruce with pressed lips and a guilty gleam to his eyes.

“This will help us stop the invasion.”

Although Batman doesn't move an inch, Tim nods at the man's incredulity.

“It's completely harmless to humans but lethal to their species.”

And now Bruce understands the guilty and hesitant stances around him. Batman can not and will not approve of murder, even to save the ones he loves.

Considering that all of the other Gotham vigilantes have deemed this the only road, Bruce will need to find a non-lethal option by his lonesome. He will need to secure the weapon and fight his way out.

Batman quickly performs a nerve strike on Tim's arm and swoops up the tiny pink duck. Only once it's in his grasp does he realize his mistake.

No one moved to stop him.

Batman's lens covered eyes glare into Red Robin's.

Red's stare bears down on him as Batman's knees give out.

“I'm sorry, Bruce. If I have to choose between the ones I love and an enemy, I will always choose my family. No matter the cost. I don't expect you to forgive me.”

As the sedative drags him under, Bruce falls asleep knowing his kids will be safe covered in the blood of their enemies.

[xerith-42]

MCD Fighting Style breakdown

for @gonedreaminggg as a treat. I took your initial list, added a few ideas I came up with, had a breakdown, Bone apple teeth!

- Laurance: As seen in canon Laurance mainly uses a single large sword, though in his early appearances he uses a sword and a shield. I feel like Laurance has trained in multiple styles of combat to varying degrees. He's really good with a single sword of any size, and he can fight sword and shield. His dual wielding is lacking and he can tell every time he watches Dante fight. A lot of Laurance's movements are very basic forms of sword combat with slight variations and flare. Laurance is really light on his feet, so much so that when he really gets into a fight, it almost looks like he's gliding sometimes.

- Garroth: An absolute tank. Fuck what canon says here, Garroth has trained exclusively in fighting with a sword and shield. It is his bread and butter. His ass would not know what to do with a second sword, and nobody really tried to train him in anything else because he's so good at what he does. Garroth can and will always take the hits, he's a barbarian who manages to suppress the rage until he's forced to multiclass into paladin thanks to the relic. Always on the front lines, so good at throwing himself into danger, he wants to die a warriors death and go to Valhalla and both Aph and Laurance are like "Garroth please stop."

- Dante: Dual Wielding jack ass my beloved. Dual wielding isn't a super common style of combat just because it requires so much coordination and there's definitely a quantity over quality problem with guards in Ru'aun. Dante studies an unconventional style of fighting to stand out, and it works. He's super limber and flexible, at least when he's a teenager, and he's fast as fuck. Dante will absolutely be the one getting insane hit combos and doing like 8 attacks per round. He loves bragging about this so much, even though he has to slow down a little as he gets older and his body can't quite move the way it used to.

- Aphmau: Oh Aphmau... Can I call you Aph? You poor thing. In my brain Aph is partially trained by Garroth and Zenix in her early days, but she also just has some really good instincts from being Irene's reincarnation. She learns basic archery from Zenix, and a lot of basics in sword fighting from Garroth. She tends to prefer one lightweight weapon, though she does learn to get comfortable with larger weapons. She's shorter than a lot of her opponents so she likes having a lighter weapon that let's her move fast and go for the fucking knees. She does not fuck around in a fight, she will go straight for the kill. All the guards have some sort of honor/respect for their opponents. She doesn't. She will fucking kill you.

- Travis: Travis is the jack of all trades. You put a weapon in his hand and he knows how to use it. He's not particularly great with any one weapon, and he never has a preference. He was taught to always have his guard up and always be able to defend himself, so Travis is much more comfortable with being given a weapon and using it instead of having a preference. He carries a long sword with him everywhere he goes, but that's just in case he can't get his grubby little paws on something else. He also uses potions a lot more in battle than anyone else thinks to, so he's able to make up for any shortcomings in his fighting.

- Katelyn: Punch people at the perfect weak points of their body. Katelyn has done a lot of study into human anatomy and medicine, and she knows all the weak points of the body for taking someone out in a certain way. Want a quick knockout? There's a pressure point on the back of the neck she can hit while blindfolded. Want to make someone winded? Hit them in the solar plexus. Katelyn has honed her body for this style of fighting, she is ripped as fuck, and while she isn't the fastest fighter, mostly due to her still wearing armor, her strikes are powerful enough to make up for it.

- Lucinda: Evil!! She uses her witchcraft obviously, which I have a lot of thoughts about. I think it's basically being a prepared/component caster, so how well she does in a fight depends on what components she brings into it. But Lucinda literally has like three bags of holdings, she can always whip up something to kick your ass. And if she can't, her staff is definitely made out of some ancient tree and she'll just sweep people off their feet with it and then concuss them with the giant curved end of it. She prefers to take people down non-lethally if possible, especially because witchcraft is very susceptible to accidentally killing people, but if you hurt her friends, it's on sight,

- Zane: Despite his high position, Zane isn't particularly good with any large weapons. I always envision Zane to be somewhat lanky in his stature, and definitely the weakest out of his brothers. He doesn't want to be seen as a threat initially, and as shown in the series, he'd much prefer to find a non physically violent way to kill you. If he has to, he's always got knives hiding on his person, in his robe, in his belt, in his boots, man's always has a way to kill just in case.

- Nana: Magic in this universe is spontaneous casting, where most spells don't need active prep work, and fewer components. Like she needs her dolls as vessels and some magical energy that's naturally present in her body and she's good. I don't think Tu'la was always a safe place, and she likely learned to defend herself from a young age. But Nana isn't really good with conventional weapons like swords or bows, no, she knows how to dent your brain with a frying pan. She doesn't like being violent, but if you threaten her friends or family, she will absolutely demolish you with a cutting board.

- Vylad: The archer!! I like to think Vylad tried to spar with Garroth like once and hated it so much. He hates eye contact and getting close to people, so instead they learn how to be an absolute master of ranged combat. Vylad knows how to stab someone with a short sword in a desperate situation, but he'd much rather be perched on a tree above the battlefield and rain arrows from above. Vylad is also incredibly stealthy and faster than anyone else. So people see his perch and try to get there to take him down or have their own archers fire back, but he's already gone.

- Sasha: Sasha moves so gracefully, so fluidly, and almost enchantingly. For her fighting is a performance, she's gonna kill several people and she's gonna look good while doing it. Even when she was a trained guard she made herself stand out with an affinity for smaller curved blades that naturally assisted her fluid movements. She makes fights into an endurance test, cutting people up and whittling them down. But if she needs to kill, she knows how to do it in a single swipe and knows the weak points that guards are taught to protect, and the ones they aren't. She's such a menace :)

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Whumptober 2024 No. 7- Only For Emergencies | Unconventional Weapon

The fire spread rapidly across the city, the flames licking up buildings and engulfing everything in its path. City Park became a charred mess, its trees and bushes quickly reduced to ash. The one responsible, Supervillain, cackled from their place in the sky, letting more of the blaze erupt from their hands.

“If we don't stop them soon the whole city is gonna be gone,” Vigilante said.

The team had their hands full coordinating evacuation efforts while Superhero and Supervillain tussled in the air. Even some of the villains were helping out.

“There isn't going to be a city to come back to if they don't hurry it up,” Villain said bitterly.

“Superhero's got this,” Hero said, “they'll take care of it and-"

Superhero crashed to the ground, out cold. This elicited another laugh from Supervillain.

Hero looked around nervously. No one else had the power to match the pyromaniac's. Hero coughed up the smoke in their lungs and shakily reached up to remove their pendant. The few times it had come off, the effects had been… well… they hadn't been pleasant. That didn't matter now, this was the ultimate emergency, and they needed all their power to handle it.

The power-suppressing pendant bounced on the ground, and Hero's hair turned white, their eyes taking on an icy hue. Their lips turned blue, and their fingertips became a tinged purple.

Hero scowled up at Supervillain. They unleashed a blast of icy wind and propelled themselves into the air.

“Oh ho, Elsa, you've been hiding something~” the master criminal said.

“And you're done here,” Hero growled, throwing a small beam of ice.

Well, it was supposed to be small. It actually came out as a powerful blast, knocking Supervillain out of the sky. Hero summoned all of their power, and a blizzard ripped out of them from every direction. Cold storm clouds swirled up above the city, and snow began to fall, dousing the flames and cooling everything down.

Hero landed on the ground and stumbled. Villain and Vigilante went to steady them.

“You crazy little ice cube,” Vigilante scolded.

“Did I do it?” Hero asked weakly.

“Yeah, yeah, you did.”

“Superhero? Are they-?”

“They're fine,” Villain said, “where’s your necklace thingy?”

Vigilante pulled the pendant out of their pocket and draped it around Hero's neck. Their hair and eyes returned to their normal color, and their skin became a more normal shade of pale.

“Cool. Cool cool cool…” Hero mumbled.

Their eyes rolled into the back of their head and fluttered shut. Nobody's shouting did anything to rouse them.

…

“…saved the entire city…”

Hero stirred in a warm cocoon.

“…Supervillain's in custody…won't be hurting any…again.”

Hero groaned, willing their eyes to open.

“…waking up…”

“Hero?”

Hero opened their eyes. Their team stared down at them, relieved smiles on their faces. Even Vigilante looked happy. Hero slowly sat up in a med bay bed.

“Superhero!” Hero said.

The crime-fighter approached them, their arm in a sling.

“Hey Hero,” they beamed, “you did it. The city is safe, and the fires are out.”

“What about Supervillain?” Hero asked.

“In custody, they won't be lighting so much as a match.”

Hero nodded.

“Gotta say, if I had known you had that kind of power I would've never so much as shoplifted,” Villain said.

Hero chuckled.

“Well, I try to keep it under wraps,” they admitted.

Outside, a light snow still fell. The city's people had come out to admire the sudden cold snap. Children played in the white powder while adults gathered outside the hero base in hopes of thanking Hero and the others for saving the day.

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@electrons2006

[charmwasjess]

If there’s a legit good reason why Qui-Gon chose to specialize in form IV, Ataru, the Hawkbat lightsaber form, aside from the simple, likely fact that he did it to troll his old Master Dooku (who outright calls the acrobatics of the form “ridiculous,”) I’d like to hear it. By which I mean I’ll write you a post about it.

Ataru is fast, aggressive, and inclined to treat the battlefield as a 3D space where the air is just as comfortable a place to be as on your own two feet. A direct response to Soresu, the “defense is my attack” form, Ataru flips that into “attack is my defense.” (We won’t talk about Makashi’s contribution to the conversation: “no defense whatsoever, but think fast, I just threw a dinner fork at you so hard it stuck in your metal arm!”) 

Of course, the most recognizable and classic application of Ataru is Yoda’s; we see him whizzing around people’s heads like a little green hummingbird in his AotC and RotS duels. Qui-Gon’s version looks nothing like that. If we weren’t told, I think it would be hard to guess that those characters are using the same form. In Duel of the Fates, Qui-Gon has to move down or over those infamous walkways repeatedly. He just jumps them: no flips, no aerial maneuvers, no bouncing off the walls. And this isn’t simply a practical choice for his age and build: Jocasta Nu is running up walls and leaping out of skyscrapers at easily aged 40 years older than Qui-Gon, and for all Dooku’s bitching over Ataru acrobatics, he does more flips to simply avoid walking down a few stairs than Qui-Gon, Master of the flip form, does in his entire time on screen. 

And yet, on some level, all of that makes perfect sense for Qui-Gon. Who better to completely subvert a form? This is a character who is contrary as fuck, full of wonderful contradiction, who blends lightsaber theory centered on attack and aggression with literal meditation. While the most notable scene, actually kneeling in the pose and everything, is in TPM, he does battle meditation repeatedly on a mental level in the Master and Apprentice and Padawan novels. (And it rightfully freaks out Obi-Wan.) Qui-Gon takes Ataru’s “your whole body is a weapon” and doesn’t apply that to somersaults, but rather, to moves like punching Darth Maul off a balcony as we see him do in Duel of the Fates. He fights in a way that throws himself bodily up against obstacles. You can see the same physicality of his relationship with his weapon in the scene where he is simply burning through the blast doors in TPM. We’ve seen Jedi cut through things on screen other times, but that scene is remarkable and memorable for Qui-Gon’s level of intensity. He is the battering ram. 

And we could loop back into lineage, couldn’t we? Qui-Gon stands in a line of Jedi with unconventional relationships to their lightsaber forms; their choices are formed in context of and in conversation with each other. Those backward, momentum-gaining swings from Duel of the Fates look very familiar, but who trained Qui-Gon? (And who notoriously had a problem with Ataru and might've pushed his student on some workarounds or encouraged him to cut out bits he didn't like, such as aerials?) And speaking of, is it a stretch to think that Dooku’s own casual backflips are less a considered choice and more an old habit, being himself trained by a Master who has only a theoretical relationship with gravity? 

All this to enjoy just another example of how personal the lightsaber forms can be to specific Jedi, and what wonderful fun it is to unpack the ways they use them differently because of their unique personalities and lineage.

[sweetbunpura]

No.7 ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES (Word Count 574)

Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

While Vargas had played a monster during the camping trip, no one expected an actual monster to screech it’s way out of the woods and directly towards their campsite. Students scrambled out of the creature’s way as it slid to a stop in front of them. With very limited magic to defend themselves, the captains of the clubs commanded everyone to get away. The named few that had taken down Vargas acted as a distraction so everyone could make for the portal back home. The monster let out a defending roar that had Ruggie and several other beastmen covering their ears.

It charged directly at the hyena on all four hunkering paws, only to have its long spiked tail grabbed as it was halted a few inches from the dirty blond. Sebek and Floyd pulled on the monster’s tail and struggled to keep it from moving any further. Eventually, the creature flung the two into the lake and turned back to Ruggie just as backup had arrived.

The monster fended them off like it was nothing, managing to throw a couple of them into trees or into the tents. As it turned to go after a bleeding and down Riddle, Ruggie used his unique magic to freeze it in place. It jerked to a stop and the hyena felt a faint hope swell in his chest before it was dashed by the monster whipping its tail into his smaller body and sending him flying.

“Ruggie!”

He slammed against the tree and a loud crack was heard as he lay on the ground in pain. Thudding pawsets caused Ruggie to crack his eyes open to see the black form and spiral bright green and blue eyes of the hulking monstrosity in front of him. It opened its mouth, multiple rows of sharp teeth greeted him as it descended...only to get punched in the face and sent rolling across the forest floor.

Ruggie watched as Yuu landed in front of him with a pair of iron gauntlets on that had a magestone in the center of them. She jolted before rushing the beast with speed equal to a cheetah.

“Herbivore, are you nuts!” He heard Leona say as he rolled over onto his stomach.

Yuu dodged the claw swipe and punched the monster square in the stomach, causing it to flinch before she sent a rapid number of punches to its chest and stomach. The creature staggered back and she jolted again as she panted. The students paused as they watched them fight, Yuu dodging every hit and throwing hit after hit at the beast.

“W-Where did she find those gauntlets?” Ruggie’s ear turned towards Riddle as he heard his voice. 

“Are those from the mine?” Deuce’s voice came next.

“Shrimpy’s really going in on it.” Floyd.

With one last blow to the head, the creature fell to the ground in a heap, finally dead. Yuu’s body sagged as she panted before throwing off the gauntlet in plan. The scent of blood hit Ruggie’s nose as soon as she did and he found himself staggering to his feet and rushing over to the best of his ability to catch her as she started to fall. He takes one look at her hand and flinches, they’re bloody and Ruggie swears he can see the mutilated muscle underneath.

“W-What did you do?”

“My profession...in exchange for your lives.” Was all she says simply before passing out.

[yourplayersaidwhat]

“What damage type would a thrown t-bone steak be?”

-my dm

[whumptober]

Hi! Can you please explain more about the prompt "Unconventional Weapon" from Day 7?

So an unconventional weapon is something that wasn't created as or is typically used as a weapon. Something that you have to use in a pinch because there's nothing else and you're desperate.

Examples of this could be strangling someone with the sleeve of a jacket, hitting someone with a crutch, throwing a shoe at someone's head, stapling someone, stabbing someone with a pencil, etc.

There are so many more examples than this! Basically anything that isn't your typical knife, gun, sword, etc etc

[cartwrong]

Whumptober Day 7 - Unconventional Weapon

River was a mistake.

Isobel could admit that now as she drove down the familiar roads that led to her childhood home, her son dozing in the backseat.

Not a mistake in the sense that Isobel didn't mean to get pregnant, no, she knew precisely what she was doing. River was wanted in that sense. She wanted—desperately wanted—to have Frank’s child, be his wife, raise River and the other children of Les Arbres together. She spent weeks painting the mural in the nursery, envisioning her child growing up in that room with his brothers.

But then her father destroyed it all like a child stomping another child’s sand castle. He stomped his foot and that was that, Isobel was to return home, her father deemed it so. He forced Frank’s hand, made him an offer he couldn't refuse, simply so he could show Isobel there was no escaping David Cartwright’s reach.

David Cartwright, legendary MI5 agent, could reach out and pull his daughter to heel no matter how far she ran. He could convince the man she loved to throw her and their child aside as easily as tossing a discarded newspaper. He could leave her trapped with a child who suddenly no longer had a purpose.

So, yes, in Isobel’s most authentic moments she would admit River was a mistake, if only to herself.

She didn't know how to raise him alone, how to raise the son she created to one day help destroy her father and the only thing he truly cared about, Her Majesty’s Government. River and his brothers had a higher purpose, to be weapons of destruction and change, guided by Frank, but now he was nothing more than an unsharpened knife in her care.

“Mummy, where are we going? Are we almost there?”

He blinked at her in the rear view mirror, his enormous blue eyes almost startling in their size and curiosity. He was always looking at her like that: studying, appraising her the same way David did. It was unsettling.

“Somewhere fun, darling. Go back to sleep.”

Isobel took a deep breath when she pulled into the drive an hour later. She chanced one last look at her son and reminded herself this was the only way as she gently roused him from sleep, smoothing his hair and pressing a final kiss to his forehead.

David wanted to control her life, and if he wanted to pull her away from the man she loved, well he could reap what he sowed. If she gave River willingly then her father couldn’t take him from her. Attachments were meant to be purged. Better River learned that now than similarly to how she had; pregnant and deliriously in love, the man who she thought hung the moon shoving her out the door and back to her father like an unwanted stray cat.

If she didn’t have River then she could never lose River. David would have nothing left to weaponize against her.

Isobel didn’t look in the rear view as she drove away.

River was a mistake.

Leaving him was not.

[angelsdean]

Which hobbies do you see canon Cas do and why? I am interested in your perspective on his character. Do you think he would still like physical hobbies because they remind him of humanity and the reality of being in control while being connected to the world he fell in love with, or do you think he would stay away from more physical hobbies because they remind him of his time as a machine and soldier? Or something completely different from those reasons? Like Vic, please, I wanna know what you think about his interests, about the way he moves on earth post-canon and how his perspective on things might change, or not.

Hi, Val !! I'm sooo sorry it took me so long to get to this ask. I did the silly adhd thing where i told myself "i'll get to this later when i have more time to answer properly" and then....my brain forgor :(

Anyways I have a cas hobbies tag and I really really think he would actually enjoy sports a lot!! For some of the reasons you listed but also because it's a way for him to use a lot of the stuff he was trained for in a new and fun, recreational way instead of as a weapon.

Cas has a very strategic mind, he's spent billions of years being a soldier and he's also charismatic and someone we've seen other angels turn to as leader (like during s9). I think a lot of his skills would transfer well from battlefield to sports field. I also think Cas likes to do and be active and in motion. We see him get very impatient with things that take time. He doesn't like waiting for doors to be unlocked lol, he abandons cars when they "suddenly stop working", he needs stuff to happen now. Which is why, contrary to popular fanon I really don't see Cas doing more meditative hobbies like knitting and gardening. In 15x06, when Cas is talking about fishing, he says he "had a friend (Dean) who always praised fishing for its meditative qualities. Wish I found it more relaxing." Dean loves quiet, slow, meditative hobbies. He loves fishing. He loves working on cars. Building things (emf reader, ma'lak box), even stuff like cleaning out his guns, taking them apart and putting them back together. It's a lot of doing stuff with your hands and also being alone with your thoughts. I think Cas would, perhaps eventually, come to enjoy some of those types of hobbies too, but I think he still leans toward more physical hobbies. I said it in this post but I really think Dean would be the one more interested in knitting (adhd boy needs to keep his hands busy) and gardening (similar vibe to fishing -- meditative, outdoors).

Aside from sports, I think Cas would also enjoy some more unconventional or risky hobbies. I can see him getting into making weird art, sculptures out of found objects, glass-blowing, welding, skydiving (to Dean's horror), deep-sea diving, cave exploring, probably some illegal stuff too like this post suggests, and idk leading a heist, you know normal stuff.

While I totally understand the idea behind giving Cas peaceful meditative hobbies post-canon, and I think he would enjoy some of them for a time, Cas would eventually grow bored / frustrated and want to try something new. I can totally see him being a "serial hobby starter" and just constantly getting into "new" hobbies and buying all the supplies and gear and then like, a week later he's over it and Dean is throwing his hands up exasperated (but fond) like "CAS! Where the hell am I supposed to put all your mosaic crap now??? The garage is already full!"

[throneofsapphics]

unconventional weapons

Cassian x f!Reader 

Summary: Reader loses her temper. 

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: slight violence, mentions of death/grief 

A/N: inspired by a book I read recently and I couldn’t resist. 

She was never a particularly violent person but today her temper had been tested a bit too much. That’s how she ended up flinging a skillet across her kitchen.  

She slammed a skillet on the stove and it rattled underneath her, she winced - the thing was old and another good slam might put it out of commission. Her brothers had entered her house like a storm, ate most of the food she prepared, and had the audacity to ask if she was eating enough, or taking care of herself, or if she needed anything. 

Of course she knows they care - and that it comes from a good place, but this was the last gods-damned straw in an already frustrating week. Yes, the last month - since losing a close friend - had been very difficult, and for a time she drew completely into herself - blocking out the rest of the world, but she was coming out of it and didn’t need to have someone holding her hand. 

The door banged open, probably one of them again, forgetting something and not bothering to knock. 

Working on instinct, she lifted the skillet - heavy and cast iron. 

“For fucks sake,” she yelled and launched it. Y/n realized as it left her hand, that it was not one of her brothers, but Cassian. He ducked in time for it to lodge in the wall behind him. She hadn’t realized how much force she put in. 

Her heart raced, chest tightening, fear pumping in every inch of her being. Cassian turned slowly, facing the wall, before tugging it out and leaving without another word. She slumped back against the counter, arms bracing on the wood to keep herself standing - a tough task considering how much her legs were shaking, knees knocking together. She heard thumping coming from outside, the sounds of something, maybe a skillet, and wondered if he was planning for that to be her head. 

Maybe she could run, escape somewhere else - take herself off the map rather than be bashed to pulp by one of the most powerful Illyrians to ever exist. 

The door creaked open again and she cautiously rose, watching him like a cornered animal. He flipped the skillet twice in his hand. “This makes a good weapon.” She squeezed her eyes shut, opening them again to make sure this wasn’t a hallucination

He had an amused look on his face, and held it out towards her, striding the last few steps. She eyed it warily, switching between his face and the cookware. “Take it y/n,” he sighed, and she snatched it from his hand, placing it far behind her, and firmly out of his reach. His eyes rolled and he jerked his chin towards the door, striding out without looking back - assuming she would follow him. “Bring it with you,” he shouted, and despite the caution flaring in her mind, she did. Worst case she could throw it at him and flee. 

Sure enough, there was a large, although already dead, tree in her yard with several scratch marks on it. He stopped ten paces away, curling his fingers inward. 

“Hit the tree.” He demanded as she approached his side. Not try to hit the tree, or try throwing it. She bared her teeth at him, and he gave her a grin that made her want to break something. So, she threw her arm back over her shoulder, wincing at the weight, and launched it. It landed a few feet to the left. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, but he retrieved it and came back. 

“Start with it level to your hip.” He instructed, that same grin on his face. Gods, she wanted to throttle him. She flung it from her side, only for it to hit the side of the tree and bounce back off. She let out a shriek of frustration, one he ignored - only dutifully retreating it and coming back. 

Y/n could hardly breathe as he stood behind her, his warmth encompassing her as he placed the skillet into her hand before wrapping his around her own. One hand straightened her back, and she yelped as he kicked her feet - into a steadier stance. His chest pressed against her back, maybe a bit closer than she thought would be necessary but she didn’t complain. 

“Twist here,” he pushed his hand against her waist, pulling her arm back, and guiding her through the motions a few times before stepping back, and she wished he had stayed. Y/n threw the thought out of her mind as soon as it appeared. 

“Try again.” He instructed, and she did. It flew through the air, lodging itself a foot or so above the base before running out to grab it and turning to him with a grin. “Better,” he admitted with a shrug of his shoulder. 

Her eyes narrowed, she hit the gods-damned tree. 

He raised a brow at her. “You’re going to want to hit the stomach, not the shins.” 

“Excuse me?” She held it at her side, returning to the starting point, the line he’d toed in the dirt. 

“That’s a weapon,” he jerked his chin towards it. 

“It’s cookware,” she deadpanned. 

“You almost took my head off with it.” Cassian countered

“I thought you were someone else.” She pursed her lips together. 

“I hoped that was the case,” a small smile curved at his lips, and he grabbed her arm, tugging her the last few steps forward before spinning her around and guiding her arm again. She gulped as she felt something hard pressing into her back, but ignored it. 

“Release here,” he instructed, as her arm inched a bit away from her waist.

This time, he stayed with her as she threw it, and to her delight it hit the tree right in the middle. 

“Good.” He grinned as it lodged itself firmly in the poor tree. She jumped up and down, throwing her arms in the air with a cheer. “Not yet,” she shook his head. “Hit it three times then celebrate.” 

“You really put a damper on things.” She huffed and he snorted. 

“If you’re going to defend yourself, you might as well practice.” 

Y/n braced her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing into her mothers no-nonsense look. “And what do I need to defend myself from?” 

“Annoying males, garden pests, unwelcome guests.” She hummed in agreement, enjoying the flare of caution in his eyes and turned. 

-

Cassian watched as she hit the target three more times. In a row. And shifted to hide something that might make her uncomfortable, but gods he loved the feeling of her pressed against his chest, the soft skin of her hand, the burst of anger and fire inside her as she threw a gods-damned skillet at his head. 

Maybe it shouldn’t have excited him quite that much, but y/n had always been … gentle and sweet for the most part and seeing a different kind of fire in her brought out another part of him. The one that rose to meet it. In the past, she’d protested picking up more than a small dagger, and if he could teach her to make that into a weapon, he’d do it. Maybe it would keep her obnoxious brothers out of her hair, their scents were recent, as if they’d left only a few minutes before his arrival 

What had they done to piss her off that much? 

“Who did you think I was?” He asked as they headed back inside. He’d forgotten the reason he came here in the first place, and needed some time to find a good excuse. 

“One of my brothers.” He’d hit the mark on that. 

“And what had they done?” 

“Raided my kitchen,” she muttered. “And fussed.” 

“Isn’t that what all males do?” His face was lined with amusement as he gently nudged her with his elbow. 

“I’m sick of it.” Y/n ran a hand through her hair. “I want them to back off. I’m fully capable of taking care of myself” 

“Tell them,” he tried to advise. The glare she shot him made him wince once she’d looked away again. 

“You know that doesn’t work.” He didn’t, not really, but he’d take her word for it. 

“Threaten them with the skillet.” That thing was heavy, Cassian knew that - and he didn’t have the reflexes he did, he might’ve found himself with a broken jaw or a black eye at least. “You’re scarier than you think.” 

“Is that a compliment?” She smiled, nudging him back. He pretended to fall off balance, and drew a laugh out of her. 

“Yes, yes it is.” 

An adorable blush crept on her cheeks and she picked her pace up. “I’ll make tea,” y/n called without looking at him.