#{[CRITICAL DAMAGE SUSTAINED]}

[belladonna-wright]

Had she ever?

Jessie sank into her memories for the briefest of moments as she forced a smile onto her face. She could almost see it now, actually, when she tried hard enough. She tried to let such memories lie and pretend she had forgotten them; it was more peaceful that way. But she could see her William, standing there with his thumbs through his belt loops, boasting that she'd be his wife and have the finest ranch in all the area.

She could see how meek and quiet he had been about it when their parents sat in a room together and talked things over.

He had made so many promises that he hadn't wanted to keep. It would have made her angry, even now, except for the fact her memories didn't stay with him this time. Instead they drifted to another; grey-blue eyes and brown hair and a face thrown back in a loud, brilliant laugh, with hands that always smelled a little of antiseptic.

But a marriage then would have been impossible, a proposal quite preposterous. How times had changed. That was a far deeper hurt than her anger at William.

"Oh, something spontaneous," she waved it off, trying to recover herself. "Something private, something that just comes out of the blue because it can't be held in a moment longer. I don't care about flashy. What about you?" She moved on quickly. "Though about it?"

@trixxortreat

"Have you ever pictured your proposal? What you would want? The ring and all that?" Trixie used to. She used to imagine falling in love and having this epic romance.

But that was when she was so much younger.

When she thought it was in her cards. When she wanted to have a story for herself.

That thought seemed long gone now though.

@belladonna-wright

[tsbs-darksun-confessions]

All you do is cause problems, Sol

You keep pushing people away and lashing out. Like what the actual fuck was that with Pan? They were freaked out and you decided to take that as an insult?? They're defending you right now, and I bet all you're doing is fuming and having a little hissy fit

Maybe Pan was right. Maybe you ate a litttlle bit too much of your beloved Lune, because lashing out like that is a Moon trait. Eclipse's get it, yes, but they get it from their Moons

Pan clearly holds onto you really dearly, Sol. I mean, why else would they be so freaked out by that picture? Hell, have you even seen them interacting with anyone before that wasn't you or Ruin? At least not in passing? Have you ever seen them relax around anyone who isn't you? Maybe you just meant more to them than they did to you.

And you pushed them away

Thats all you do, really. Push people away. Lune. Solar. Even Ruin. And now Pan

God, you really are a Moon

[corpsentry]

ass in the air on my hands and knees searching for link/allen (romantic platonic idgaf in this economy) fanwork i scoured the ao3 tag dry and 8 years of tumblr posts and now i am Two fists deep in pixiv, dodging projectiles of pathetic ai porn, desperately looking for crumbs. i’ve done it again folks i found a more or less dead fandom and got stuck on the niche pairing of the main character and the guy who debuted with a bowl cut and now there is nothing to be done but CRY LOUDLY and then (some time later) EQUIP PEN

[lefresne]

me, delusional: when I do my postdoc and publish the first critical edition and translation of the livre d’artus it will be OVER for you all

[fairyhagmother]

From Incendies, Wajdi Mouawad

[sunderwight]

Headcanon that Shen Yuan was hotter than Shen Qingqiu, actually.

Like yeah SQQ being a cultivator gave him a boost to enough attributes + being in a stallion novel where everyone is either unrealistic hot or dog's butt ugly got the Shen Qingqiu body extra points, and he wasn't bad looking to begin with. Plus not being ill is vastly more important to the new Shen Qingqiu than those extra hotness points (Without a Cure notwithstanding). But part of the reason why he's kind of like, meh, at least I'm not hideous or anything, is because Shen Yuan's original body was a knock out.

I also like him as chronically ill, and, as many people know, beauty standards and sustained suffering are not as incompatible as they should be. Shen Yuan was conventionally attractive in part because conventional beauty standards seem to want everyone slowly dying all the time. But even setting that aside, the man had flawless bone structure, an appealing figure, captivating eyes, and the kind of voice that stopped people in their tracks.

All of which was a contributing factor to his antisocial lifestyle, actually. Despite the fact that Shen Yuan does enjoy company and requires a certain baseline of social enrichment for his enclosure, his internalized homophobia and closeting did not play well with overtures from interested parties (regardless of gender). The only way to minimize the odds of him being asked out on dates was to essentially become a shut-in, especially since even Shen Yuan can only make so many excuses before he himself starts to notice that he's going to a lot of effort to avoid specifically that avenue of socialization. Far better to just remove himself from any risk of it, and then vocally lament that oh no he's just too much of a nerd to get anywhere with women!

Anyway this largely doesn't matter much outside of sheer comedy potential for any situation where SY gets his old body/life back. Like imagine a reveal scenario where the System is going to transport them back to their old lives.

Shang Qinghua: well bro I guess this is gonna be the ultimate test of love, right?

Shen Yuan: what do you mean?

Shang Qinghua: our husbands are gonna see what we looked like back before we were glorious cultivators! they're going to have to track us down in our mundane, kinda shitty pre-transmigration lives! it's gonna be at least a little embarrassing, right?

Shen Yuan: *gets his old body back*

Shang Qinghua, normal human with average looks: ...

Shen Yuan, exemplary 11/10: ?

Shang Qinghua: what. the fuck?? bro what the fuck why are you hot???

Shen Yuan: don't make it weird

Shang Qinghua: make it weird??? why were you sitting at home reading my shitty novel when you could have been out there building your own harem???

Shen Yuan: stop exaggerating

Shang Qinghua: oh my god you've always been like this. this is it, isn't it? it wasn't even brain damage from the transmigration or something--

Shen Yuan: hey

Shang Qinghua: --you've just always been completely unaware, haven't you? every time I wrote a beautiful woman who didn't know her own appeal you'd be jumping down my throat--

Shen Yuan: because that's a stupid trope--!

Shang Qinghua: --JUMPING DOWN MY THROAT EXACTLY LIKE THAT but this whole time THIS WHOLE TIME it wasn't even a glow-up issue, you've just been that, personified, yourself--

Shen Yuan: look I know I'm not ugly but I'm not I'm hardly that good-looking

Shang Qinghua: YOU ARE NEVER ALLOWED TO CRITICIZE THAT TROPE AGAIN! oh my god. how many broken hearts did you leave behind when you died?!

Shen Yuan: none, I wasn't even seeing anyone--

Shang Qinghua: yeah full offense but I am nottt taking your word for that. I bet you had a harem you didn't know about in this lifetime too. I bet you had a fan club, like an anime prince

Shen Yuan: *mumbling*

Shang Qinghua: what was that?

Shen Yuan: I said... only in high school...

Shang Qinghua: oh my god

Shen Yuan: it wasn't a big deal!

Shang Qinghua: *frantically trying to see if he can find any trace of it on the internet now*

[thoughtportal]

This is a developing news story and may be updated as more information is obtained. If you value such information, please support this Substack.

On Dec. 1, a woman immolated herself with a Palestinian flag outside the Israeli consulate in Atlanta.

Now, according to the Atlanta Fire Rescue Department, the woman — referred to in their report as “Jane Doe” — is alive and “in stable condition” at Grady Memorial Hospital, where she has been since the immolation.

After repeated requests for her name, the department stated to this reporter in an email that it “does not disclose the identities of victims”. Repeated inquiries to Grady, which is a public hospital, went unanswered. The hospital houses the Walter L. Ingram Burn Center.

“Jane Doe” is 27.

When asked if they had made any comment to tell the public that she was still alive this entire time, the official at Atlanta Fire Rescue Department said they “shared the last updated with local media via email on 12/21/23. The release stated: ‘The victim remains hospitalized in critical condition. The security guard, who attempted to assist the burn victim, has been released from the hospital.’” Several internet searches on that quote produce no results. This would also indicate that "Jane Doe" went from critical to stable condition without public notice. 

Aaron Bushnell immolated himself at the Israeli embassy in Washington, D.C. on Sunday, explaining “I will no longer be complicit in genocide” and shouting “Free Palestine!” repeatedly as he burned alive. So, his case — unlike many other self-immolations including Gregory Levey, Raymond Moules, Timothy T. Brown, Malachi Ritscher and others — has received some attention. Thus, “Jane Doe” being ignored fits with the usual pattern. Bushnell is the exception — probably because he livestreamed it. See “Ignoring Immolators Lulls the Society to Sleep.”

As Bushnell was burning himself alive, an officer pointed a gun at him, barking orders as if he constituted a threat. A security guard, Michael Harris, sustained injuries working to rescue “Jane Doe” — but there were similarities, where she was actually viewed as a potential threat.

At one point, the police report for “Jane Doe” refers to it as being a case of “arson”.

Much of the media coverage and general discussion of her self-immolation in December focused on if she had done damage. The Atlanta Police Chief said: “We believe this building remains safe, and we do not see any threat here.” The Israeli government released a statement: “It is tragic to see the hate and incitement toward Israel expressed in such a horrific way.”

Police records indicate that they obtained a search warrant and entered an apartment they believed to be associated with “Jane Doe” — initially using a drone:

The drone was able to relay information as to the layout and the belongings inside. After it was deemed "safe" entry was made with bomb technicians. While clearing the apartment no improvised explosive devices were located.

The police report also noted:

During the search a Quran was found in the bedroom along with a [sic] Arabic dictionary and a Hebrew dictionary. The bedroom bookshelf contained books related to fiction and fantasy. A "Drug use for grown ups" book was on the bookshelf as well. Two journals were seized from the bedroom. A thumbdrive was seized from the bedroom as well. A laptop computer was seized from the kitchen counter. A copy of the search warrant was left in the living room of the apartment. The front door [of] the apartment was secured before law enforcement left the premises.

When pressed for more information in compliance with an Open Records Request under Georgia law, Atlanta Fire Rescue Department claimed: “There is an ongoing and active investigation for the incident in question, which is why the only releasable information has been shared via the incident report. Investigative documentation is not available for release until the investigation is closed.”

[colebabey888]

Cultivating Your Signature It Girl Aesthetic | THE IT GIRL DIARIES

Fashion and style are critical components of the ideal It Girl. However, style is not about following every trend, you are the inspiration, the trendsetter, the It Girl style is about creating a look that is uniquely yours, an appearance that no one else can replicate but instead only have deep admiration for it. It’s about creating a personal brand that feels true to who you are and owning it.

How to discover and curate your signature look?

Know Your Aesthetic

Identify your fashion preferences. Are you drawn to classy elegance, barbie doll pink, edgy streetwear, coquette or bohemian chic? Curate a wardrobe that reflects this aesthetic consistently. Identifying your aesthetic does not mean limiting yourself to only that, else you're just another follower taking inspiration from the trendsetter. Take your aesthetic and make it your own, add your touch of personality and characteristic to it, give it a bit of you.

Invest in Staples

Build your wardrobe around staple pieces that can be mixed and matched. Classic items like plain white or black tees, versatile denim, fitted slacks, clothing that can never go out of style because it can always be made into something more.

Embrace Your Natural Features

Celebrate what makes you you. If you have big lips or eyes, find ways to accentuate them! Instead of conforming to trends that don't serve your look, embrace and elevate your features. For instance, laminating your brows for a neat, polished appearance instead of shaving them all off and redrawing them on like.. Discover beauty techniques that enhance your natural beauty rather than masking it.

Maintain a Signature Hair Routine

Your hair is one of your defining traits! Whether you have silky straight hair or kinky 4b curls, a consistent haircare routine helps you feel polished and put together. Invest in treatments that align with your hair type and goals—like deep conditioning and hot oil treatments for moisture and strength. If you love to wear your hair sleek, using heat protectants and frizz control products will help maintain your signature look while preventing damage.

Curate a Low-Maintenance Glam Look

You don’t have to spend hours on makeup to feel fabulous. Find key beauty steps that give you lasting results, like applying a lip tint every third day to keep your lips subtly flushed without constant reapplication. Design a makeup routine that emphasizes your key features. A weekly face mask tailored to your skin’s needs helps keep your complexion glowing. Embrace easy, effective beauty hacks that fit seamlessly into your routine.

Focus on Clean, Minimal Elegance

True elegance comes from appearance and how you carry yourself. Paying attention to skin, hair, and environmental cleanliness, moving with grace and poise. Keeping things simple yet chic, whether it’s maintaining a daily skincare routine or practicing oil pulling—ensure you’re always putting your best self forward. The key is consistency and subtlety, qualities that define It Girl charm.

Stick to What Works

The It Girl aesthetic isn’t about following every trend—it’s about finding what works for you and sticking with it. Your style and beauty choices should reflect what feels comfortable and sustainable for you.

Your personal style should reflect who you are on the inside and help you radiate confidence. Discover what feels authentic, and from there, curate a signature It Girl aesthetic that highlights your best self.

mwah! xoxo, colebabey8.88

www.thedigitaldollar/gumroad.com

[redflagshipwriter]

Mama Bat 8: Hungry

Masterpost

Danny would prefer to strike that unfortunate incident from the record and his memory. As soon as he figured out how to cause selective brain damage, it was all over for the mortifying ordeal of being perceived in weakness. He swung his legs miserably over the bathroom counter’s edge and pretended very hard that he was alone in Amity Park where no one noticed or cared if he threw up. 

He was still in the room where Cass had hustled him to clean off his face and see if there would be an encore. He’d had to make a tactical retreat away from the toilet to higher ground when big bats flapped in after him. Presumably they’d learnt that he threw up when Cass went to get whatever supplies one needed to clean partially digested yogurt off antique carpet. Ancestral carpet. Probably made of some nutty rich person material like, uh, hair from the manes of prize-winning horses.

Somehow, Danny cringed even harder. He needed brain damage immediately, please.

“And you’re certain that you don’t need to visit a medical facility?” 

Batman brooded in the literal way that a chicken brooded. Danny tightened his grip on the counter just that little bit more so that no one could drag him into a nest and sit on him. “Wouldn’t do any good,” he said shortly. It came out a little too mean. He tried to correct his voice to be nicer. “Thanks. Tho.” Danny cleared his throat.

“Tt.” Damian expelled air against his front teeth and glowered at his father. “He looks terrible. You cannot believe this.”

Wait, what? Danny blinked down at Uncle Damian, betrayed. “I look terrible?” he echoed. What the hell? Criticism, from Dames? That was new and it sucked a lot.

Bruce got a pinched look. “Danny, honey, you have been looking a little…” He trailed off. “Unwell.”

‘That would be the lack of ectoplasm,’ Danny thought snidely. He kept his mouth firmly shut and turned away. Unfortunately, he caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror and winced at it. He did look pretty wan and thin. It was hard to put a finger on what was off about his appearance, but it was sort of… deathly.

He was putting on weight again thanks to Alfred and Damian’s monitoring of his diet, but it was just a fact that he wasn’t really suited to this environment. Too human to survive in the big Green yonder, too undead to get by on bread alone.

‘...How does Jason do it? His vibes are rank and ghastly as shit,’ Danny thought enviously. ‘He screams BITCH I'M ABOUT TO COMMIT AN INTERDIMENSIONAL WAR CRIME constantly. It’s pretty fucking impressive. An aura like that is not sustained by creme anglaise and goulash. He has to have access to ecto somewhere.’ 

Danny really should have wondered that before. Jason had to be like, the most liminal human being around who wasn’t a halfa. He definitely needed ecto. Where was he getting it? Danny hadn’t really consciously thought about it, but… He felt himself tinge a little green again.

‘Was I feeding off of his ambient ectoplasm when he was here yesterday?’

His mouth filled his saliva that still tasted both sour and like toothpaste. Danny swallowed it with effort. He did not think of how good ecto tasted after you’d been denied and drained. He did not think about the sense memory of how living ecto would indent and then give with a juicy pop around his teeth, splash the inside of his mouth-

Danny buried his face in his hands and tried not to look like he was going to throw up again. Because he was not going to do that. He was not going to eat Jason and he was not going to throw up.

“Danny.” Bruce somehow made his huge strong guy vibes less intense. Danny reluctantly made eye contact to see that the guy kinda had homeless Labrador eyes at the moment. Big. Begging. Full of love and grandfatherly support that he's just waiting for you to accept. “Can I ask you a question?” 

Ugh. Yuck. Feelings.

Danny fidgeted, flexing and tensing his feet. “Yeah,” he said, after a too-long silence. “What's up?”

Damian crossed his arms over his chest, radiating intensely negative child energy into the room.

“Is there something that I'm not providing for you that would help you?” Bruce's voice was excruciatingly gentle.

Danny went stiff. 

Okay, maybe Batman wasn't a big dummy. Danny broke eye contact to look at his knees. His new jeans didn't have the usual tears over his knees. He stared at the weave, picking out an individual line of thread. Everything was so weird now. He was weird now. He’d made sense before but now he was the thing that was wrong and out of place. If he was more normal he could admit that he needed help. He could say what it was, if it wasn’t so freakish and he wasn’t struck silent by the knot in his gut.

“Whatever you need,” Bruce quietly promised. He lowered himself more to Danny's level. “I know a family who all need sunlamps to survive the winter. I have a friend who travels with his own fish tank of fresh ocean water whenever he’s on land.”

That didn’t sound very human. 

Danny sniffed. Ugh, his nose was leaking. He wiped at it with the back of a hand. “Like that tentacle horror guy from the pirate movie?’ 

Bruce's lips twitched. “Exactly like that,” he lied gravely.

He took a shaky breath in. He licked his lips. He glanced up and caught sight of Damian. Sweet, prickly Damian. The preteen was glowering as if that would hide how concerned he was. 

‘He’s a kid. That's a whole ass child. I’m not telling him I'm an existential horror that is tempted to commit cannibalism. Especially not when I’d have to admit that his big brother smells like a whole graveyard buffet.’

Damian sure talked a lot of shit, but he loved his family. A lot. He would have feelings that were way too big for his body about his ‘nephew’ needing to eat something like his big brother Jason. 

Not that Jason was a something. He was a person. Jason was definitely a someone. Danny winced away from that train of thought.

“Danny?” Bruce was barely audible. Danny blinked back to awareness to see that the man was tightly leashed in place by his self control. It was obvious that Bruce very badly wanted to take three steps closer and touch Danny. Danny drew his legs up onto the counter and hid his face between his knees. He didn’t want to look at anyone, he didn’t want to feel pressured to say anything. 

The new posture was convenient because it hid that he was starting to cry. He trembled with the effort to stay silent and mop his tears directly onto the new jeans that smelled like someone else’s laundry detergent..

He was being stupid. That was classic Danny. He hid things that didn’t need to be and he accidentally told people what should be secrets. Was he ever going to get it right? He should just tell them. Tell them! He tried to berate himself into working up the nerve but his jaw might as well have been wired shut in a morgue.

The bathroom went silent. Danny waited and waited for someone to say something. He frowned after a while even as he began to relax. Then he deliberately listened. 

It sounded like he was alone. 

It didn’t seem right, though. It took him a few moments to ping onto what he knew that disproved that. There was a warm, quiet presence about a foot to his left waiting patiently. It wasn’t quite ghostly, even though it was totally silent.

Danny sniffled on his next inhalation.

Cass didn’t say anything.

He lifted his head to see for certain that Bruce and Damian had left the room. They probably hadn’t gone far.

‘She must have asked them to get out when she came back.’

The room spun around him, blurred through his eyelashes. It might as well have been a dream. There was no harm in a dream.

“I need ectoplasm,” Danny admitted. Cass didn’t say anything or touch him. There was no pressure. He could float away if he wanted to. It was safe to admit it now. “That’s what I’m missing. And I can’t get it here. That’s why I came to Gotham. It’s not really easy to get on the living side of things. But Gotham is kinda liminal, so there’s some hotspots.” He paused. He wasn’t sure why. The air felt fragile.

Suddenly, he knew he didn’t want her to say anything yet. Danny swallowed and rushed on. “It’s, uh. What ghosts are made of.” His voice was so raspy that it didn’t even sound like him. “Jason has a lot, actually. But I don’t anymore. So. I need some.”

Cass leaned over very deliberately to put her arm over his shoulder. It was warm and real. The weight of it would keep him from floating away. He could feel the slight flex of her bicep muscles.

He swallowed. He leaned into her.

“We’ll get you what you need,” Cass promised. Simple as that.

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - September 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my new(ly repurposed) Patreon!

1. A beam of hope for North America’s most endangered sparrow

“Dozens of conservationists, gathered some distance away to avoid spooking the skittish sparrows, celebrated the [release of the 1000th captive-raised sparrow] in an unprecedented recovery program that in only a few years has doubled the bird’s wild population, from a mere 80 five years ago to some 200 today. […] “What we have achieved is the best case scenario.””

2. U.S. overdose deaths plummet, saving thousands of lives

“"In the states that have the most rapid data collection systems, we’re seeing declines of twenty percent, thirty percent," said Dr. Nabarun Dasgupta, an expert on street drugs at the University of North Carolina. […] According to Donaldson, many people using fentanyl now carry naloxone, a medication that reverses most opioid overdoses. He said his friends also use street drugs with others nearby, ready to offer aid and support when overdoses occur.”

3. Propagated corals reveal increased resistance to bleaching across the Caribbean during the fatal heat wave of 2023

“”[… Y]oung corals bred for restoration are a lot more resistant to bleaching under extreme levels of heat stress than the prevailing corals on the reef." [… Unlike with the previous propagation strategy, fragmentation, e]very time a population reproduces, new offspring receive newly mixed sets of genes through recombination, making them different from their parent colonies and thus enabling adaptation.”

4. Habitat Management Helps At-Risk Butterflies

“For a number of at-risk butterflies in the United States, habitat management can play an important role in keeping them from going extinct. [… “In] places where people are actively engaged with ways to manage the habitat, the butterflies are doing the best,” said Cheryl Schultz, a professor of conservation biology at Washington State University[….]”

5. Study: Protecting the ocean helps fight malnutrition

“[The study] found that fish catches in coral reefs could increase by up to 20 percent by expanding sustainable-use marine protected areas — that is, areas where some fishing is allowed with restrictions[, … and] that sustainable-use marine protected areas have on average 15 percent more fish biomass than non-protected areas. […] “Allowing regulated fishing in marine protected areas can support healthy fish populations, while also having a positive impact on the quality of life of surrounding communities.””

6. [FWS] Advances Effort to Create Urban Conservation Footprint in Tucson

““We want to continue to work together to create an urban footprint to improve access to nature, conserve habitats, and improve air and water quality.” […] The area provides habitat for several federally listed species, including southwestern willow flycatcher, western yellow-billed cuckoo, and Mexican garter snake. If protected, the area will also help connect critical habitat for jaguar and Chiracahua leopard frog.”

7. ‘Exciting’ solar breakthrough means energy can be kept in sustainable batteries that don’t overheat

“The technology is based on a specially designed molecule of carbon, hydrogen and nitrogen that changes shape when it comes into contact with sunlight. These are common elements - providing an alternative to other technologies relying on scarce materials like lithium. […] A unique feature of the system is that the molecules also provide cooling in the photovoltaic cell[, which can store solar energy “for up to 18 years.”]”

8. Sea turtles make big comeback on sandy beaches at 2 British military bases in Cyprus

“[… The] number of nests surpass[ed] last year’s record count by nearly 25%, environmentalists said Tuesday. […] “The steep increase in turtle nests has been the result of a consistent, systematic ‘hands-off’ approach, together with enforcement efforts to minimize illegal, damaging activities on nesting beaches[….” D]aily patrols by volunteers ensure that aluminum cages set atop the nests remain in place to protect the turtles from predators like foxes and dogs.”

9. First ever photograph of rare bird species New Britain Goshawk

“The last documented scientific record of the bird is from 1969[….] Working closely with [“the Indigenous Mengen and Mamusi peoples”], WWF hopes to support local stewardship to safeguard the future of these incredible biodiversity hotspots through community-led conservation.”

10. Hospitals begin offering breakthrough radiation therapy for metastatic cancer tumors

“[First,] a patient is injected with a radioactive glucose (or sugar) tracer. The machine picks up the tracer in real time and in bright colors, [… then] reads a signal from the cancer cells breaking down the tracer. [… “The] machine is automatically and autonomously reacting and responding to those signals by shooting radiation back to their source[….]””

September 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[shyshitter]

just saw barbie (2023) and i have soooo many thoughts. for one, i totally understand the criticism that some people have about the lack of diversity with the presentation of “womanhood” aka not acknowledging the hardships of women that don’t conform to the stereotypical presentation of gender. ive seen a few reviews which interpreted the message of the film as “womanhood means embracing and finding empowerment in pink and dress up!” and that is completely understandable as a majority of the characters presented were very stereotypically feminine. however. the overall theme that i picked up on was how damaging all expectations on gender expression are for our society. any sort of imbalance of power be it patriarchal or matriarchal is inherently dysfunctional and breeds resentment and discourages the development of healthy sustainable relationships with other people. i think it is also very important to note that the barbie world mirrored our world because mattel was solely run by men and as they had no other reference for a balanced society, their creations, the barbies, were the ruling class because the barbies were made in their image, not the idea that little girls can do or be anything they wanted. the barbies disregard ken just as they disregard women hence “no one is ever worried about ken.” the mattel executives were their own worst enemy by constraining ken to the accessory label and preventing him from developing his own identity and forming relationships with the other kens whereas the barbies were constrained to their own version of hyper-femininity because the execs have no other conception of womanhood beyond what they want to see. the movie was less about “embracing femininity” and more about “hey maybe telling people what they can or can’t be/do based on preconceived notions of gender and perfection is incredibly isolating and is ultimately the downfall of society.” the fact that the movie ended with the mattel execs still in charge, the barbie world allowing kens the “same equality as women in the real world,” and barbie leaving barbie world is incredibly powerful because it shows us how far we still have to go until we’re truly equal and that nowhere is perfect so long as that inequality exists. that being said. kate mckinnon should’ve been a masc dyke instead

[astroboots]

Punch-Out Love

Artwork by @guruan

FIGHT NIGHT

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You're lucky enough to score ring-side seats at a boxing match on Friday night. Getting the best view in the house of boxing champion: Miguel O'Hara.

Word count: 1,500

Next Chapter

Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist 

You know fuck all about boxing.

About the only thing you know about the sport was from the glimpses you caught watching scratched up old recordings of Muhammed Ali fights on the boxy mini-tv of your old childhood friend's house.

It always seemed barbaric. The practice of watching two human beings beat the shit out of each other for spectator's entertainment. It seems like something that was better left in the Ancient Roman times. Have we all human beings as a society, really not come further some 2,000 years later?

Your bestie used to get mad at you for this. Constantly defending the sport from your criticism, because (according to him) it's not just about smashing each other's faces in. Supposedly, there's an art to the sport. Boxers are taught to respect their opponents and adhere to the principles of good sportsmanship. It takes great mental discipline, dedicated work and years of hard and punishing training to master boxing.

You never saw any of that in the matches he showed you. All you saw were two men needlessly being hurt, sustaining brain damage for rich people's enjoyment.

Then again, he was more than a little bit biased, considering it was his dream to go pro one day. Tall and gangly, with his scrawny antelope legs, thick-rimmed glasses and big-ass braces, he looked like he couldn't punch his way out of a paper bag, much less another person. You never understood how exactly he thought he was going to make it as a boxer.

But you never found it in you to burst his unrealistic bubble when he used to point at the screen excitedly, drawing your attention to Ali's footwork and the artistry in it. 

"It's like he's dancing," he used to say.

Except dancing is done with swelling music in the background. In dancing you often have a partner. It's an embrace. It's gentle and kind.

Boxing... was not that.

So you don't know how you managed to find yourself in the ringside seats of a local boxing match on a Friday evening, staring up at the boxing ring with the glaring ring lights shining into your eyes.

"Aren't these seats amazing?" Jess shouts excitedly over the familiar lyrics of ‘We Will Rock You' being belted out by Freddy Mercury on the loudspeaker.

You smile, and nod, because boxing-fan or not, she's right, these are some amazing seats. And considering you didn't have to pay a dime for them, personal aversions aside, you're never going to turn down free stuff.

Jess' husband tested positive for covid at the last minute, and you're the only one in your social circle that is anti-social and single enough to not have any plans on a Friday evening.

On the monitors above you, the menacing headshots of the two fighters swish into view.

"The first guy is an old reigning champ," she explains to you, as she leans in, shouting into your eardrums (and yet you can still barely make out what she's saying over the music). "The challenger is some new kid on the block. Has an amazing track record. Zero losses in the season. He's something else."

You look up at the gigantic screen, at the sharp cut cheeks, strong thick brows and the intense pitched brown eyes staring down at you.

Angry looking dude.

...Handsome too.

With a face like that, surely he could've gone into other careers. Calvin Klein model, movie star, or a news anchor. You wonder what makes a guy voluntarily have his face bashed in for money as a career.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a loud booming voice announces from the stage.

You jump in your seat from the suddenness, as you see a bald and overly formal dressed announcer in the middle of the ring. 

"Welcome to the electrifying boxing showdown of the century! Are you ready to witness some knockout action tonight?"

The crowd around you cheers with a pandemonium of shouting and whistling.

"Introducing our first fighter, a true hometown hero! With an impressive record of 20 wins, 15 by knockout, and only 2 losses, standing at 6'3 feet, and weighing in at 340 pounds of determination and strength, give it up for ‘the Knockout King’ Bobby Kane!"

You watch as the reigning champion walks down the tunnel to the midst of adoring cheers as he waves and gestures at the crowd like royalty.

Every inch the king that he is nicknamed, he jumps over the rope and stands tall and proud over the ring.

The man is huge, bulging with almost grotesque muscles. He's so large that you almost expect each of his steps to send a reverberation throughout the hall, as if this was Jurassic Park and he's a T-Rex.

"Now, entering the ring with the confidence of a warrior, fighting out of the red corner, with 15 wins, 10 by knockout, and no losses, standing at an astounding 6 feet 9 inches, and weighing in at 310 pounds of raw power, let's hear it for tonight's challenger, ‘Steel Jaw’ Miguel O'Hara!"

Wait what? You do a double take at the announcement. Six foot nine?!?! What kind of giant is that?

From the far corner of the hall, you see his silhouette emerge, and your eyes go wide at the sight of him. Tall doesn't even begin to describe him. 

There's a 200 year oak tree at Central Park, and with the shadow this man casts, you think their height must be nearly comparable. If you thought the Knockout King was tall, the "King" is practically tiny compared to this challenger.

You watch, as the man with cheeks so sharp they mind as well be blades (and god never has a nickname made more sense to you) as he strides towards the stage. He reaches the rope and barely even has to climb over it with how tall he is.

He's leaner than his predecessor. Every inch of him is cut muscles and tanned gorgeous skin as he stands in front of you. His presence is electric. The air crackles where he stands, towering over the stage.

You swear that his towering height blocks out the ring lights with it, casting the stage in the darkness of his tall shadow.

Somehow, he's even prettier in person compared to the still image of him blown up and plastered on the big screen. Soft brown curls and pouty lips. You don't understand in what world a man like that is a professional fighter.

From this distance, with the way that the light refracts from his irises, his eyes almost glow with a scarlet red that takes your breath away as you look up at him and meet his eyes.

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was staring at you.

The bell rings out, but he's not looking away. The intensity you find there is enough to make you swallow your tongue. Your face prickles with heat and for several long moments you forget to breathe, until the air seems to thin around you and your vision starts to swim.

Then he turns to face his opponent.

You're not quite sure where to look. There's so much happening at once. For his size, Miguel O'Hara is surprisingly deft on his feet. His footwork is somehow both unpredictable yet intentional all at once.

The King throws a strong punch, as he lunges forward, after his tall opponent. But O'Hara dodges them seemingly without effort. It's followed by punches so quick, the movements blur together.

Strike after strike. The King is giving it his all. But none of it properly connects. With every failed hit, you can see him growing increasingly more frustrated.

Your heart is in your lungs, and despite how close you are to the stage, you almost want to get up from your seat for a closer look.

Safe as you are behind the ropes, adrenaline rushes through your veins with a fury. You can't recall the last time you felt this ecstatic about... well, anything.

With each punch O’Hara dodges, you feel yourself lurch back in your seat, trying to dodge the punch with him.

It's titillating.

Exciting.

O'Hara's movements are precise and honed with intention despite the ferocity in his movements. Each one is measured and intricate and if you didn't know any better you'd almost call it graceful.

You think back to those moments in your childhood friend's home, and his excited words buzz in your ears now. For the first time ever you finally understand what he had meant.

It is like a dance.

Before you, O’Hara's eyes cross over in your direction and for a split of a second, you swear your eyes connect again. His gaze holds you there, pinned to your seat, and excitement shoots through the entirety of your spine until you feel lightheaded from the attention.

Then he finally steps forward, no longer evading.

It's brutal and efficient.

An uppercut that connects cleanly to his opponent's jaw.

Spit and blood flies out from the man's mouth, the flabby flesh of his cheek vibrating from the impact as he lands on the floor with an ear-shattering thud.

Then the guy is out.

Barely even eight minutes in. 

There's a stunned and shocked silence. The crowd seems both enthralled and disappointed at how fast it all went. On the ring floor, you can practically see the circle of cartoon birds flying above the defeated King's head.

You may not know anything about boxing, but you know that this man is not getting up anytime soon, no matter how far the referee counts.

Tearing your eyes away from the motionless body splayed out on the ground elevated above you, you can see the victor towering menacingly over the body.

But Miguel O'Hara isn't even looking at his defeated opponent

No, his eyes are staring straight into the sea of awestruck spectators. Except he’s not looking at them.

He's looking at you.

~ Next.

Author's note: What's that you say? CiCi wtf are you doing starting another series when you already got one going on? ... Idek man. But I hope you guys enjoy it, cause I had a blast writing it, smut will ensue in later chapters I promise!

Dedications and Credits: Buckle up it's gonna be a big one!

Firstly to @guruan when I say she's my muse THIS IS WHAT I MEAN! Look at that beautiful artwork. I am drooling into my panties. I am crying between my legs. I am so damn horny! I cannot thank this amazingly talented genius enough. Please please give this wonderful brilliant human your love by following her, and drop by her KO-FI SHOP cause the art this woman bless us with is UN-fucking-REAL

Then to @djarinsbeskar who put this idea into my head. In my mind she is the OG Boxer AU champion and mastermind. If you are in the mood for more boxing content, she has a wonderful, devastatingly sexy series Boxer!Din AU that is just woof woof bark bark.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Since the Israeli genocide in the Gaza Strip started, I have been reviewing British media and its everyday items, such as the newspaper, phone, posters, and TV channels that seep into the public’s consciousness. Without the critical tools and education to puncture through their framing, we become complicit and easily intimidated. Some media outlets have gone as far as spreading misinformation, which surely would have been considered a hate crime in other contexts. Both the Daily Telegraph and The Times chose this misinformation as the headline for their October 11th issues. Although some (not all!) of those newspapers have already retracted their original false claims, the damage has already been done.   The Guardian chose to adorn its main headline for October 12th with the words ‘Israelis suspended between fear, grief and foreboding.’ The Daily Mail selected ‘The King Calls Them Terrorists, Why Can’t the BBC?’ Marching to the same beat, the Daily Telegraph opted to plaster the Royals’ condemnation of Hamas on its front pages. Survey the pages of the newspapers, and the stories eliciting support and empathy for Israel abound, making it clear who the perpetrators are and that vengeance against them is justified. Meanwhile, the Palestinians are only evoked through the register of terrorism and violence. Even those headlines, which are shy in their coverage of the Israeli genocide in Gaza, intentionally omit the perpetrators: the Israeli army and state. They are designed to neglect the root and cause of the violence: Israeli settler colonialism. By settler colonialism, we mean the gradual transfer of European Jews to the land of Palestine, the coercive displacement and dispossession of the indigenous Palestinian population, and the imposition of a coordinated and sustainable system that turns this displacement into a continuous process.  Western media relies on racial, gendered, and colonial tropes to describe the atrocities in Palestine. It instrumentalizes white female faces to elicit support for Israel. Such a tactic simultaneously serves racism, patriarchy, and colonialism. It relies on notions of white female ‘innocence’ and ‘victimhood’ to justify the continuous erasure of Palestine. In a headline by the Daily Telegraph about a British IDF female soldier, below, we are shown a smiling white female soldier wearing military attire and a keffiyeh on her head. Neither the photograph nor the article questions why a British citizen is justified in enlisting in a settler army elsewhere, let alone the same army that is committing genocide in the Gaza Strip. To the contrary, the article frames such enlisting as voluntary and dignified. These strategies bring to mind 9/11, Laura Bush, and the weaponization of white feminism in the service of imperialist and colonial expansion. Black and Brown feminist scholars and activists, including Lila Abu Lughod, bell hooks, Angela Davis, Audre Lorde amongst others, have long debunked and punctured through such strategies. It is this same white feminism that has been utilized by the media and governments to justify the intensification of Israeli brutality against the Palestinian residents of Gaza. 

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Angelia has been giving me a brainworm lately, so here's a little angsty... hurt/comfort-y kinda thing?

While deploying (or maybe extracting) from a mission, the airship Angelia and S/O (or maybe S/O's the pilot) are riding in is shot down and crashes, with S/O ending up losing an arm or a leg in the ensuing crash.

Upon discovering the loss of their limb, S/O tries (with... very mild success) to play it cool and lighten the mood with a joke, going: "Hey hon look... we match... hehe..."

But looking in their eyes Angelia can clearly see that they're kinda freaking out and barely keeping it together as now they have to figure out a means of getting out of their situation.

(GFL Short Fic) Angelia's S/O getting heavily injured

I imagine based on recent asks, most people have an Angelia brainworm now. I also may have gone a little overboard in the length of this and instead of an imagine you get an entire ass short fic, but whatever! It's the content GFL deserves! Word Count: 3.4k CW: Loss of a limb, blood, nothing explicit.

Angelia's vision slowly came back to her, accompanied by her ears ringing and body aching. The last thing she remembered was that her, S/O and DEFY were on their way back from a mission in the snowy mountains near the northern borders. And...

The explosion that rocked the helicopter before it came crashing down.

Immediately, Angelia tried to sit up, gritting her teeth through the stinging pain before an arm laid her back down.

Before she could throw a punch at her potential attacker, Angelia relaxed slightly at the sight of AN-94 administering first aid. Or at least what looked to be the remainders of a kit.

(AN-94) "Please remain still, ma'am. The injuries you sustained were not as severe, but we need to be safe."

It was only now Angelia realized that AN-94 had her combat mask on, missing her jacket and parts of her gear torn off, tiny embers illuminating the wreckage of the helicopter's hull surrounding them.

Which meant a skirmish was soon to follow their crash site.

(Angelia) "Where are the others?"

Angelia saw AN-94's eyes glance over to her for a brief moment. Though her expression didn't change, the T-Doll had been under her command long enough for Angelia to know that was hesitation.

And suddenly, what AN-94 said fully registered in her head.

(Angelia) "...What did you mean, not as severe? Compared to who...?!"

AN-94 stoically turned to her commanding officer, hesitating one last time before fully reporting.

(AN-94) "Thankfully, the squad is still functional, despite our damage. AK-12 has sustained the least damage, only superficial scratches, though her gear is now destroyed, leaving her with only a pistol."

The T-Doll sat Angelia up properly, with Angelia wincing in pain but keeping the grunts relatively quiet. AN-94 took the mask off her face for a moment with a click and hiss, one hand going over her knee as she knelt.

(AN-94) "Myself and RPK-16's vests are heavily damaged, but our weapons are intact. AK-15's right arm has been torn off, alongside her gear, but remains functional. Currently she is armed with a combat knife."

That just left one person. And Angelia's heartbeat slowly quickened when she asked about them.

(Angelia) "And S/O?"

(AN-94) "Condition critical, ma'am."

Critical?

Suddenly, all the pain that Angelia was feeling seemed to vanish in an instant, her voice raising in volume unintentionally at her subordinate.

(Angelia) "Take me to them, now."

AN-94 helped Angelia out of the wreckage they were inside, the hull of the helicopter somehow miraculously still intact, even if there were at least a dozen holes she could see through. Snow crunched under their boot and the winter breeze barely affected them as the flames around them roared out, leaving a smoke cloud trailing into the sky.

Laid up against a piece of metal now acting as improvised cover, Angelia found the rest of her squad standing and crouching near S/O.

And the sight of S/O made her freeze in her tracks, the white snow around them tinted red, and their face looking paler than she had ever seen.

A few more seconds of examining S/O told her why.

(AK-12) "S/O's arm was caught between shrapnel, one that would've lodged itself through my head had they not shoved me out the way."

AK-12 reported, a hint of shame in her voice as she did so, turning around to briefly salute Angelia, but not getting out of her kneel.

S/O's right arm was now missing, a red bandaged stub replacing it making Angelia teeth clench at the sight. Her heart felt like it had just gotten stabbed merely by looking at the state S/O was in.

(RPK-16) "AN-94 was treating you inside the helicopter, so we had to treat them out here. We've done what we can, but they need proper medical attention ASAP."

She could see that most of her squad's jacket laid directly underneath S/O, spread out so they could have a flat surface to keep them comfortable on, considering the circumstances.

RPK-16 kept a flame source nearby to keep S/O warm, but Angelia doubted that S/O was feeling the cold at this very moment.

(Angelia) "Why did you not treat them in an enclosed area?!-"

(AK-15) "Ma'am, our top priority is you. And..."

Uncharacteristically, AK-15's voice trailed off, hesitant as her other sisters to fully report what had happened. As she turned around from facing the trees, her hair briefly swayed and touched her own missing arm, though electric wires and metallic frames replaced where blood and bone should have been.

(AK-15) "Before S/O lost consciousness, they insisted that you were inside first before them."

Angelia clicked her tongue in irritation, knowing better than to shout at her squad for doing what was objectively correct.

However, DEFY's members meant more to her than anything else.

Even above her own life.

Angelia knelt into the snow, uncaring of the freezing cold seeping through her torn clothes. Her real hand brushed over their face, S/O unconsciously grimacing at the sensation, her emotions slowly bubbling up to the surface. Keeping them suppressed, Angelia cooly continued talking to her team.

(Angelia) "Were we able to radio for help?"

(AK-12) "We managed to contact Griffin's Commander. They apparently have an outpost not too far from here."

(Angelia) "Within walking distance?"

(AK-15) "No, ma'am. One of their Black Hawks are coming to retrieve us."

AN-94 gently picked S/O up into her arms, carrying them bridal style, but not before putting her combat mask back on, followed by the rest of DEFY.

Everyone prepped their gear, ready for a fight to break out any second as the AK-12 and RPK-16 put back on their coats, AK-15 still looking around and clenching her combat knife's hilt.

Angelia helped wrap AN-94's coat around her, eyes glancing over to S/O for a brief moment.

(Angelia) "Let's get out of here and to extraction. Sangvis are no doubt already approaching."

...

The extraction coordinates was now only a seven minutes away, putting Angelia's mind somewhat at ease. Her squad, despite the injuries, was as AN-94 said, still operating normally.

The same couldn't be said for S/O, looking worse with every second that passed. Before Angelia could have further time to lament about that, she saw their eyes slowly creep open.

(S/O) "N...Ninety-four?"

(AN-94) "Ma'am, S/O is awake!"

Angelia rushed over to S/O's side, concern briefly spilling out onto her expression as she saw S/O faintly smile at them, eyes half open.

(S/O) "Is...everyone-?"

Angelia's hand reached out for S/O's leg, brushing against it and motioning for everyone to keep walking and not waste anymore time.

(Angelia) "Alive, though we all look like shit. You worst of all."

S/O laughed at that, though immediately coughing afterwards causing them to try to look around, and quickly notice something off about themselves.

(S/O) "O-Oh...that's...not good."

Their eyes rapidly darting between their missing limb, and quickly noticing how injured the rest of DEFY was, including Angelia.

She had been walking with a limp, holding onto AN-94's rifle with her uniform all torn apart with blood and new scratches on her body.

Though, understandably, they kept looking at their arm.

(S/O) "Hah, I guess we match now at least..."

For once, Angelia's lets her expression go soft on a mission, her hand grabbing onto S/O's remaining one tightly, not crying, but damn well looking like she was about to.

(Angelia) "Hah...that's...not something I wanted you to be able to do..."

AK-12 and RPK-16 caught up to S/O increasing their pace, getting behind Angelia so they could at least see them smile, even if it was obvious it was forced. AN-94 joined in with a small chuckle of her own, that one sounding the fakest of all.

Despite that, it still put S/O somewhat at ease.

(AK-12) "Plus it's the wrong arm. Ange's got her left arm replaced, remember?"

(RPK-16) "Or did that crash mess with your eyes too?"

S/O laughed again, though this time their voice was getting even shakier as their body trembled, Angelia trying her best to remain calm for S/O's sake.

(Angelia) "H-Hey! Don't push yourself, you need to rest."

(S/O) "D-Do we even have the luxury?-"

(AK-15) "No. Picking up heat signatures behind us."

Angelia nodded at AN-94, moving to pick up S/O in her place as the rest of her squad got into position. Moving their arm over her shoulder, Angelia got to cover behind a thick tree, with AK-15 throwing her a radio before grabbing her knife again.

Angelia instinctively held S/O tight to her chest, her hand's grip threatening to crush the radio.

(Angelia) "Commander, where the hell is that evac?!"

[Commander's Voice] "Three minutes out! Should be near the field according to your current coordinates!"

Both Angelia and S/O turned their heads to the open snowy plains in front of them, littered with a tree every now and then. Meaning they'd get lit up the moment they tried walking out right now.

(AN-94) "Ma'am, S/O. Keep your heads down and prepare to run. We will cover your escape."

AN-94 switched guns with AK-12, grabbing her pistol while AK-12's eyes opened, her pink eyes scanning the environment around them as she readied her sister's rifle.

(AK-12) "Multiple Sangvis units inbound. Counting twenty-five, more than likely more."

RPK-16 flipped her bipod and steadied her machine gun on top of a fallen tree, her voice sounding more bored than concerned.

(RPK-16) "Looks like they're intent on stopping us from going home."

AK-15's eyes narrowed as she got into a fighting stance, ready to leap out as soon as she spotted her enemy.

(AN-94) "Contact."

Angelia held S/O close to her chest as she lowered her head, the sound of gunfire immediately drowning out every other noise in the area.

Flashes of light rapidly blinked across the forest, with branches and tree bark splintering from stray shots, splashes of snow and dirt shooting up into the air as DEFY engaged Sangvis T-Dolls.

AK-12 and AN-94 picked off their targets with precision shots, each bullet blowing apart armored helms into scrap metal and electronics as they hid behind cover, the trees giving them cover being thick enough to not get shot through as easily.

Though their enemy was using the cover to their advantage as well, being able to hide from RPK-16's suppressing fire. As one of the Sangvis T-Dolls appeared around in their flank, aiming its gun at Angelia, its head was quickly torn apart by a knife that cut through its electronic wires and promptly kicked into the floor by AK-15.

Angelia could see in the distance a small shape in the skies approaching their location, making her heart race faster. She helped S/O up, thankful to see them still awake but hating she had to put them so close to danger.

(S/O) "A-Ange-...!"

(Angelia) "Not a damn word, S/O! Keep your head down! Where's the enemy anti-air?!"

AK-12 ducked mere moments before a stray rocket flew over her head, soaring into the open fields and igniting the area and leaving a black scorch.

(AK-12) "Think we just found it! Ninety-Four!"

AN-94 nodded and peeked out of cover with her pistol, attempting to scan where the trail of smoke was before a hail of concentrated gunfire forced her back down.

(AN-94) "Not down yet!"

RPK-16 gunned down several of the T-Dolls with a hail of her own, but unable to find which T-Doll had fired the rocket.

(RPK-16) "Can't find them either. Fifteen?!"

Some of the Sangvis Dolls attempted to charge AK-15, quickly resulting in their death as she threw a knife through one of the cores in their chest, and then with one hand grabbing another Doll and using it as makeshift cover as bullets ripped through its armor.

(AK-15) "Negative!"

(Angelia) "Our ride is about to get shot down again if we let them go-"

(Cheery Girl's Voice) "FLASHBANG OUT! EVERYONE LOOK AWAY!"

Knowing immediately whose voice that was, Angelia dove with S/O to the ground, covering their ears and bracing for the explosion herself, eyes closed and teeth clenching.

Everyone in DEFY took cover seconds before the flashbang went off, disorienting the Sangvis T-Dolls.

As another rocket shot out towards the helicopter, a bullet quickly intercepted it, making it explode midair before more gunfire erupted from within the forest.

After a few more shots, the forest became deathly still, the only sound now being the embers catching onto the trees and snow shifting as the members of DEFY looked around for any more targets.

Angelia moved off S/O, checking to see if they were alright before helping them stand up again, her voice calling out into the trees.

(Angelia) "UMP9? Is that you?"

The twin-pig tailed brunette stuck her head around the trees, her yellow outfit sticking out sorely amongst the snowy background. And yet, no one had even seen her before they heard her.

That quickly changing as she waved her hands eagerly at Angelia.

(UMP9) "Ange! It's so good to see you all again!"

Looks like it's time for T-Doll Funfact number...9? I wanna say Nine, can someone double check that for me? : Angelia is the main backer of Squad 404, regularly deployed as Black Ops mercs for her, alongside Griffin.

(AK-12) "...Friendly contact signatures confirmed. Squad 404."

DEFY's members lowered their weapons as HK416 and UMP45 emerged from the trees the Sangvis Units were originally hiding behind. HK416 crossed her arms and stoically shrugged while UMP45's signature smirk was still across her lips as they approached.

(UMP45) "Looks like we came just in time.~"

Her voice soft and playful, though her gaze still sharp, looking around the environment herself to scan for anymore threats.

(RPK-16) "We thank you for the assist, it was looking a little dire there.

(HK416) "...Hey, is that...?"

Both 404 T-Dolls' eyes trailed over to S/O, noticing how badly injured they were before seeing the rest of the squad.

(UMP9) "W-We need to get you guys home, pronto! G11! GET YOUR BUTT UP HERE!"

In the distance, G11's head poked out of the snow, with her weapon next to pop out, only muttering something inaudible in response. Despite her usual sluggish pace, she did thankfully hasten herself upon seeing the state they were picking up Angelia and the others.

Triple checking they wouldn't get shot down again, Angelia and S/O made it onto the helicopter first, followed by DEFY, then lastly having 404 join them, their extraction taking off and flying back to a safer location.

UMP9 and HK416 were quick to apply real medical attention to S/O and Angelia, with UMP45 taking a seat next to AK-12 and G11.

(UMP45) "Heard you guys got dinged up pretty bad. Though, didn't expect it to be that bad."

She couldn't help but stare at S/O's missing arm, only having seen S/O with both a few months ago.

(S/O) "Agh! W-Would've been worse if not...for you guys...!"

(Angelia) "You really pulled our asses out of the fire. Thanks."

(HK416) "I-It's nothing, ma'am."

(UMP9) "Yeah! This one is on the house!"

(G11) "...So that means no dinner?"

S/O smiled at the comment, with Angelia pulling them near her, tightly at that once the 404 T-Dolls finished.

(Angelia) "That one is on me, G11. Same goes for you girls too-"

Angelia turned to her own squad, a dry smile forming.

(Angelia) "You made the best out of a bleak situation, and saved the two of us as well."

(AK-12) "Naturally.~"

(AN-94) "Of course, ma'am."

(RPK-16) "I think Fifteen here would have punched every one of them to death before we lost either of you-"

(AK-15) "Give it a rest, Sixteen..."

(S/O) "I think...we all could use that right now..."

...

A few hours later, S/O was taken into emergency care to get them fully stabilized while the rest of DEFY had repairs on them, Angelia wanting to be with her squad until then.

After seeing them off to a temporary dorm before getting a proper ride back home, she went to visit S/O.

The medical room they were in was far from advanced, resting on a rather traditional bed than anything that screamed "medical", but it was comfortable enough for them.

But her attention was immediately brought to the cast S/O was in, their arm bandage resting on their side. Or at least what was left.

Angelia grabbed a nearby chair and sat on the side where their arm remained, smiling sadly at them.

S/O returned one of their own, their hand silently lifting before Angelia took it out without hesitation, both their remaining hands holding each other tightly.

(Angelia) "Doing alright, S/O?"

(S/O) "Hah...warm bed, and a pretty woman next to me. Think I'm doing better than I imagined..."

Their eyes slowly traced over to their right arm, smile quickly fading.

(Angelia) "...Y'know, I lost my arm and leg doing something similar."

(S/O) "In a crash?"

(Angelia) "No just...being out in the field. Barely a time they deploy without me. Think by now losing a second piece of me would be enough to ward me off but...-"

Her eyes closed, sighing out loud. No use trying to sugarcoat it.

(Angelia) "...Basically, I'm saying that recovery is going to fucking suck."

(S/O) "Hah, I mean, I could've guessed..."

Angelia scooted closer to S/O, her grip growing tighter and voice going barely above a whisper.

(Angelia) "I should never have put you in harm's way like this..."

(S/O) "You can call me a dumbass if you want Ange, but...if it means saving you or the other girls, I'd lose my other arm in a heartbeat."

Angelia grimaced at that as her voice grew shaky, but she did not let S/O go.

(Angelia) "Okay, you're a dumbass."

(S/O) "Hm...Says the one wanting the rookie taken care of first instead of the commanding officer."

Angelia's eyes slightly widened in response before quickly regaining her cool.

(Angelia) "You heard that?"

(S/O) "Truthfully, I was drifting in and out when you asked what was going on, but I already knew what face you were making."

S/O grunted in pain as they tried to shift, going off balance as they instinctively tried to balance themselves using their right hand. Angelia caught them before they could fall, helping them sit upright.

(S/O) "I...I can't stand to see any of you all in pain."

Angelia scoffed before her eyes trailed down, blinking away tears that were threatening to form.

(Angelia) "And how do you think I feel?"

S/O tugged Angelia's hand to bring her closer, allowing them to rest their forehead against hers. The gesture made her blush slightly, but she closed her eyes and relaxed her shoulders, both of them leaning to each other.

Even though it was a small eternity before S/O pulled away and opened their eyes, it still felt too soon.

(S/O) "I promise, Ange. I'm not leaving you. Even if I have to end up looking as badass as you."

Finally, a genuine laugh came from Angelia as her metallic hand moved to cover her mouth, revealing a glimpse of the energetic young girl she used to be.

(Angelia) "Is that what you call me? I'm barely holding together as it is..."

(S/O) "Okay, how about beautiful? Charming?-"

(Angelia) "Psh, just shut up already..."

There was no venom to her words as S/O hugged her closer, the blush on her face getting brighter signaling to them how much their words affected Angelia.

Taking a deep breath, Angelia pressed a soft kiss against S/O's forehead before moving to stand.

(Angelia) "...Thank you. I should let you rest now."

(S/O) "T-Thanks...PT begins in a week for me, by the way."

(Angelia) "I'll be there. Don't worry. I'll also have the girls bring you some dinner-"

(S/O) "Aw, why can't you?"

Though they were teasing, Angelia could hear a bit of genuine disappointment in their voice.

(Angelia) "Don't be too greedy. I got a lot of paperwork to fill because of you but...I'll see if I got time."

Angelia teased back, shooting them a smile over her shoulder before opening the door, stopping before taking a step out.

(Angelia) "...I love you, S/O."

(S/O) "...I love you too, Ange."

[absentwriterdoll]

896

C:"896, signal lost."

...

W:"896, still active."

C:"896, copy."

I can feel the hydraulics straining as I push against the controls.

As ever, if the reactor is still intact, it's not a confirmed kill.

The display shifts from dirt to the horizon.

Tracers streak across the sky.

H:[Warning. Internal bleeding detected.]

I can feel as much.

I scan my HUD.

Right side, lost. Left shoulder, depleted. Left arm at 35%. Left hip at 10%. Point defense at 20%, 45%, 30%, 10% respectively.

I sigh.

It hurts.

Even if I wanted to, there's not much more that I can do.

W:"896, munitions depleted, heavy damage sustained. Requesting permission to withdraw."

C:"896, granted."

W:"Harry, plot a course home."

H:[Acknowledged.]

I notice my point defense lighting up at far-off infantry.

I swap them to critical only. With this damage, I'll need the cover in case another mech realizes I'm still alive.

H:[Course plotted.]

W:"Send it."

I feel my legs shift under me - but I keep my eyes on the horizon, my weapons pointed toward the enemy battleline. A wounded mech is always a primary target.

Two missiles streak out from the infantry I saw earlier - nothing my point defense can't handle. Though, for good measure, I send a few rounds their way.

Everything hurts.

H:[Administering stimulant.]

A sharp sting in my neck - just a prelude to the pain lessening.

At least, in a minute or two, anyway.

Part of me wonders how much I could leave to the onboard AI. It already calculates most of the firing solutions.

My role is just selecting a target and pulling the trigger.

But it always has to be a human pulling a trigger.

Otherwise...

It becomes a question of when the AI starts deciding who is worth pulling the trigger on.

Can't let it start deciding who lives and who dies.

Best case scenario, it turns on its makers.

Worst case scenario, things devolve into a forever war.

…

Who’s to say that this isn’t a forever war already.

A mech raises itself on the horizon.

And I begin loosing rounds downrange.

My missing mass causes most of my fire to go wide initially.

A series of flashes.

And I react.

A round strikes me - but it’s off center.

Better than the alternative.

But my left hip doesn’t respond. I’m nearly defenseless.

W:“896, requesting support, relaying target.”

H:[Relaying target.]

It’s nearly all I can do to hope for the best.

M:“512, responding.”

H:[Radar lock detected.]

Tracers light up the mech from its side, causing it to buckle and flare - right as it looses a fusillade of missiles from one of its shoulder pods.

My point defense lights up, as does those of 512’s.

One zeroes out. I turn my hull to expose Three and Four.

Four zeroes out.

But Two and Three manage to clear the air with 512’s help.

10% and 5%.

W:“896, permission to request cover.”

C:“896, granted. Assigning 512.”

M:”512, moving to cover 896.”

W:“896, thank you.”

An unnecessary communication slips from me.

But it’s the truth.

I should be dead.

But I’m not.

C:“512, signal lost.”

In the corner of my eye, I see 512 light up - and vanish into fire.

And I see the one that did it. 

I loose rounds from my left arm - until it clacks empty.

And I hope to whatever gods may be listening that it doesn’t get back up.

Their reactor is still intact. It’s not a confirmed kill.

W:“896, relaying target, requesting kill confirm.”

A few moments pass - and then tracers streak in from afar.

Then a detonation.

L:“288, confirmed.”

W:“896, acknowledged.”

C:“288, cover 896’s retreat.”

L:“288, copy.”

In silence, I think my gratitude.

Part of me wonders if I should just withdraw on foot.

I glance at Harry’s AI core.

It would be a simple matter of-

L:“896, bogey.”

W:“896, munitions, defenses depleted, ejecting.”

H:[Radar lock detected.]

W:“Eject.”

H:[Ejecting. Give them hell.]

I pull Harry’s AI core.

And I’m launched into the air.

Tracers from the point defense flash out below me - until both remaining guns zero out. In the air, I release myself from my seat and spark my jumpjets.

Below me, my mech detonates.

On the horizon, I watch 288 engage the enemy.

288 closes with the bogey, tracers streaking between the two, maneuver jets flaring.

288 manages to get behind the bogey and tears the reactor core out - tossing it and firing a round at it before turning its attention back to the dying remains of the mech -

And slaughters the remainder.

I reach the ground.

I take a deep breath.

Thank Harry for the stimulant.

Thank 288 for the cover.

And run.

=====

Cast in order of appearance:

C - Control, the battalion’s handler. Used to be a pilot.

W - William, 896’s pilot. The most experienced pilot in the battalion.

H - Harry, 896’s AI. Leaves a copy of itself onboard when 896 ejects.

M - Maya, 512’s pilot. Relatively inexperienced. A rookie that tried to fill bigger shoes.

L - Liam, 288’s pilot. A vicious warfighter, leaving nothing to chance.

=====

Inspired by Armored Core VI and The Forever Winter.

[howtofightwrite]

I'm always a little bit (more than a bit tbh) skeptical when I see it in movies or read in books, that an archer uses their bow as a melee weapon when the enemy gets too close. I feel like using a bow like a club would not go down well with the bow.

On the other hand, a crossbow? Could you use a crossbow as a close-quarter combat weapon in a pinch? Like, whacking someone over the head and then trying to get distance between you and the enemies again.

Also I'd appreciate your 2 cents about the trope of "stabbing someone with arrows".

You really don't want to do any of those things.

So, the bow as a melee weapon runs into the issue that the limbs themselves really aren't designed to sustain blunt impacts, and even if they're made of something sturdy, there is a real potential for damage. Similarly, you don't want to damage the string. If either of these things are damaged, the weapon is basically trashed. This also applies for blocking melee attacks with a bow. In situations like that you're almost guaranteeing that the weapon will be critically damaged. Now, that could be an intentional decision, “sacrifice the bow instead of dying,” but it's rarely presented in that context, and the weapon frequently emerges unscathed (or with minor, cosmetic, damage) from these events.

Crossbows have the same problems as bows, with the additional consideration of their trigger mechanism, their winding system (if they have one), their optics (again, if they have any beyond sighting down the bolt.) Damaging any of these things will start to impair the weapon's ability to function. It doesn't mean that clubbing someone over the head with the stock would automatically break the crossbow, but there are a lot of mechanically sensitive components that could react poorly to blunt force impacts, so, it's best to avoid that entirely, and just not use it as a melee weapon.

Everything I just said about the crossbow also applies to just about any firearm more advanced than a 14th century hand cannon. Firearms do have the advantage in that they're expected to experience some kinetic kick, so it's not as simple as, “well you can't do this, or gun will break,” but as a general rule, you shouldn't do it. Clubbing someone over the head with your M4a1 shouldn't mess up your zero, it shouldn't damage your trigger mechanism, it shouldn't affect the firing pin, but you still shouldn't do it, because there is a genuine risk of breaking something. There are a lot of moving parts in modern firearms, and if any of those are out of place, it's not going to work right.

Ranged weapons are intended to be used at range, they're not supposed to be used as improvised clubs, and while most modern examples should be able to survive some abuse, it's still a bad idea.

Stabbing with an arrow is something I have mixed feelings on. From a realism perspective, it's not. Arrows (and bolts) are designed to be aerodynamic, you want low drag on the shaft, and that means that you're not going to get the kind of grip you would with a knife. The shaft should be smooth, and as a result, able to move through the air with ease, but that also makes it harder to manually shove it into someone.

At the same time, most arrow stabbings in fiction are examples object conservation. It's a kind of Chekhov's Gun, where the item is being completely repurposed in the moment, and that's a bit of creativity that I'm rather fond of, even when it's not completely realistic. This even extends to situations where someone's been shot with an arrow, pulls it out, and then stabs someone with it. It's biologically impossible in most cases, but it can be a well done moment that effectively plays with the objects that have already been established in the fight.

It's a little off topic here, but getting shot with an arrow (or bolt) is very different from being shot by a bullet. In the case of bullets, they tear through your musculature and (usually) exit the body. The problem is that you now have new holes, through which your blood is now seeking to escape. Being hit by an arrow will pin your muscles together in their current configuration. Think of it like running a toothpick through a stack of thinly sliced meat, the exact position of those slices is now fixed in relation to one another. The problem is, your muscled don't move together. They're multiple layers of meat moving over one another, and when you skewer that, you cannot change the relative position of those muscles. Meaning, getting shot with an arrow will lock up portions of your body, preventing motion. This is why I said that pulling an arrow out and then stabbing someone is sometimes biologically impossible. It is biologically impossible to continue fighting after taking a couple arrows, because you'll be unable to sufficiently move your limbs.

So, the short answer would be, “can you?” Yes. “Should you?” No. There's a non-trivial chance you'll damage the weapon. It's not likely, but you really wouldn't want to take that chance.

-Starke

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