#i hate these plates but my god they are durable

[satansfavoritestripper]

[greatbigstorm]

i was tagged to answer 50 questions by @eightynines 💖

i’m going to tag @cielodrives @extrablush @weareonejazzhand and anyone else who wants to do this ✨

What color is your hairbrush? Almost highlighter yellow but a bit greener.

Name a food you never eat: No one will ever convince me to eat cauliflower.

Are you typically too warm or too cold? I’m almost always cold unless my body is reminded of Texas summers, and then I’m almost always sweating.

What were you doing 45 minutes ago? Taking a shower.

What’s your favorite candy bar? TAKE 5.

Have you ever been to a professional sports game? I’ve been to so many hockey games and I miss it very much. 😭 I’ve also been to a lot of baseball games.

What’s the last you thing you said out loud? I was calling out for my mom when I didn’t realize that she had already left the room.

What’s your favorite ice cream? Cookies and cream.

What was the last thing you had to drink? Water.

Do you like your wallet? I mean, it does the job.

What’s the last thing you ate? A Big Mac.

Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? No, I worked last weekend.

What’s the last sporting even you watched? Korean baseball has been playing on the TVs at work recently.

What is your favorite favorite flavor of popcorn? I’M GLAD YOU ASKED. Pecan Cinnamon Roll Crunch from Buc-ee’s!

Who’s the last person you sent a text to? The GC that consists of my sister and a mutual friend.

Ever go camping? Oh God, no.

Do you take vitamins? No. I probably should, though.

Do you go to church every Sunday? I haven’t been to church since 2015...

Do you have a tan? Nope.

Do you prefer Chinese or pizza? I’ve eaten so much pizza recently, I’m DYING for Chinese food.

Do you drink soda through a straw? Only if I’m eating out.

What color socks do you usually wear? They’re usually black or grey with an accent color.

Do you ever drive above the speed limit? Almost always.

What terrifies you? I’m afraid of what lies ahead in my future.

Look to your left, what do you see? A mirror on my door.

What chore do you hate most? I’d rather do anything else than clean the dishes.

What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? 5SOS.

What’s your favorite soda? Cherry Pepsi.

Do you go in fast food places or just hit the drive thru? Usually inside unless I’m by myself, or it’s late at night.

What’s your favorite number? 13.

Who’s the last person you talked to? My little brother.

Favorite cut of beef? Uh... who is that specific?

Last song you listened to? Black Swan by BTS.

Last book you read? 😂

Favorite day of the week? Whichever day I have off.

Can you say the alphabet backwards? Kinda.

How do you like your coffee? Iced if I’m out, otherwise it’s usually a hot decaf with milk and sugar.

Favorite pair of shoes? My Mystic Green Jordan 1′s. My pride and joy.

Time you normally get up? I’ll wake up early if it’s on a day that I’m working. If not, I try to force myself to wake up at least by noon at the latest.

Sunrise or sunsets? I’m a night owl but sunrises are so much prettier in my opinion.  

How many blankets on your bed? I can’t part with this plaid blanket I got before Christmas even though it’s probably too hot to still insist on sleeping with it. I literally sleep on top of my sheets and comforter as of right now because of it.

Describe your kitchen plates? Mostly stuff my parents own, and then there’s my brother who got these plates that are really durable plastic even though they look like paper plates.

Describe your kitchen at the moment? I’d like to help my parents remodel it someday.

Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? CANDY SHOTS-SHOTS-SHOTS!

Do you play cards? I couldn’t tell you the last time I played cards.

What color is your car? Blue.

Can you change a tire? Sadly no.

Your favorite state/province/county/etc? The Lone Star State, home sweet home.

Favorite job you’ve had? I’ll let you know when I get it. 😂

How did you get your biggest scar? I had dialysis when I was 13.

[rainingskyguy]

Chrosen, knowledge and questions

Just a short thing I wrote because I think Chrome is the cutest boy ever and he deserves the world. A little rushed maybe, but I hope you like it.

I.

"Hey Chrome, you awake?"

Chrome wastes no time rolling on his bird's nest of a bed to face him, lying on a pool of blankets of his own. "Senku? Yeah I'm awake, what's up?"

 "It's not... I've just been wondering." Senku begins, hands behind his head, staring at the roof of Chrome’s hut. "You're the biggest science junkie in the village, but after that first day you haven't really asked me a whole lot. Everything okay?"

"Wha-?" Chrome struggles to pick himself up to stare at the other teen and thanking the gods of Science it was so dark, and he couldn’t see his face. He had noticed?

"Yeah," Senku continues calmly, as you go. Either not noticing or not caring for Chrome’s awkward scrambling. "Or did I perhaps bore you to death?"

"Of course not!" Chrome almost shouts, sitting up immediately. "Senku I would never-"

He stops, blushes harder when he notices that Senku was already looking his way, a sliver of moon dancing on his face and letting him see his half a grin in the dark.

Chrome sags, unimpressed. "I'm really predictable, aren't l?"

"You are rather simple-minded, yes.” Senku answers truthfully, voice heavy with fondness. “But that's not a bad thing. You're honest, it's a rare trait to have."

Chrome just sighs, looking down at his lap. "I'm just never going to measure up to you, am I?"

 Senku tilts his head. "Is that what it is about?"

 The other teen starts, wide-eyes looking back at him, before grumbling out a response. "I-no. This is not about anything. You know what, forget it."

He proceeded to lie back down, his back to Senku.

 "This is not a competition, Chrome. and even if it was, you are one of the smartest and brightest persons I know." Senku continues, voice still as serene and unperturbed as always.

 He sighs when Chrome doesn't reply.

"I mean it. Do you have any idea how impressive it is what you have achieved here on your own?" He waits a beat, but when he still gets no reply, he carefully makes way over to Chrome’s bed.

 "What I told you back then,” Senku continues, as bullheaded as ever, sitting down by Chrome’s back. “When I wanted to make you my successor... it wasn't just because I was afraid of dying.”

He lays a hand on his shoulder. “Chrome, you're the one person I trust to successful lead humanity back to the modern world. You are the person who would understand what my legacy meant."

 "But there's so much I don't know. So much I don't understand. And it's embarrassing." Chrome finally speaks up, grimacing as the words slip past his lips. But he might as well. "And you're not dead, you still have so much on your plate and I feel- I feel that I'm just distracting you from what you're supposed to be doing. I hate it, but I feel like a burden."

 "Burden?" Senku repeats, before roughly yanking his arm so he’d be face-up, before dropping his considerable weight on him. He smirks at him when Chrome chokes out a surprised breath. They were so close, nearly face to face again, chest pressed together. "Burden is my weight crushing you, dearest scientist."

 Senku drops the charade as he seeks out his eyes in the dark. "Curiosity is the thirst for knowledge. Ignorance is just the perfect ground to plant it. I'm terrible at words, but I want you to understand just how amazing it is to have you in my life. I meant what I said before, you are one of the brightest persons I know, past, present or future."

Chrome is silent again, but Senku is 99.99% sure it’s out of embarrassment more than anything else.

"So ask me, Chrome. Pry this useless knowledge from my brain." Senku lets a fond grin on his face when the teen underneath squirms a little, as if still unsure or uncertain. But then Chrome sets his jaw and carries through, as he always does.

“…The other day, when we made electricity, how did the lightning create magnets? Why do they still work? Why didn't the energy leak out soon after?"

Senku's smile widens. He opens his mouth, and begins answering. Long, elaborate explanations, inserting increasingly complex and technical words as he continued, sure in his knowledge that Chrome would be able to follow. They talk and talk, until Chrome finally remembers he has a human being on top of him and begins to wheeze for breath. Senku only laughs at him as he finally rolls off. "Any more questions?"

"Ten billion more,” Chrome says, but he's laughing. They're both laughing.

They laugh and talk until dawn broke.

 II.

Chrome asks him a dozen questions a day, insatiable as always.

For weeks, for months. Senku continues answering them all, looking proud and happy and comfortable.

 Chrome asks and asks, until one day he can't think of anything other than…

 "What's this? You just have one question for me?” Senku asks, amused and fond as if he knows what Chrome has in mind. Chrome really hopes not. “Is your brain finally drying out?"

The other scientist rolls his eyes. "It's a question I don't think you've ever thought about."

Senku smirks, always ready for a challenge. "Oh?”

They’re standing outside, under the sun’s ray, in the middle of a water break as they had gone to collect more pyrite from the caves.

The day is relaxed, a soft breeze blows and Chrome looks flustered as all hell.

And then, right there in front of him, he gets down in one knee, pulls out a ring from his pocket. "Senku,” he begins, grandiosely. “Will you be my boyfriend?"

Senku laughs, loud and strident in his surprise. He laughs some more, startled and beet red, a wide grin on his face. "Chrome, you're giving me a ring to be your boyfriend? The diamond and marriage industries are rolling on their collective graves."

 Chrome blushes but doesn't relent. "Yeah, well you're the one who told me you don't feel ready for marriage. And I think being boyfriends is plenty important. I want to give you something pretty, durable and memorable. Besides, it's not like there's a precedent anymore. I can do whatever I want."

Senku laughs again as he takes the ring from his hand. He inspects it, a shine to his eyes. "Beautifully crafted. Did Kaseki make it for you?"

"I had him teach me." Chrome pouts as he gets up. "So, what do you say?"

"You just want to hog my brain all for yourself, don't you?" Senku chuckles, looking at him with love in his eyes, as he slides the ring on his finger. It's a little loose, but that's easily fixed. Chrome laughs this time as he lunges for his lips. "Forever and ever." He says, before their lips meet.

[yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy]

White Peacock Maiden Part 2

Woo, part 2. @waiting4inspiration and @youbloodymadgenius asked me to tag them when I posted so if anyone else also wants to get tagged, let me know. Also yes that is a picture of a baby nursing, if that bothers you, I apologize but that’s literally what breasts are for, are to make milk to feed babies. 

White Peacock Princess 

Chapter 2

Your legs were burning from walking so far but you managed to walk with him back to the largest city in the area, this must be Kettegat. He led you to the largest building there and introduced you to his queen, the mother of his child- Freydis. 

“Ivar, who is this?” Freydis asked as she looked at you warily and at your strange clothes. 

“This is Princess Sasha of Heaven, she came down to heal our son.” Ivar answered proudly as he showed her- her baby. 

“That isn’t my son.” She frowned. “Ivar who’s child is this? And what did you do with our son?” She demanded.  

“But it is your son, I watched as she nursed him herself and her milk healed him.” Ivar countered. “Freydis, this is our son Baldur.” He tried to give her back the baby but she refused to hold it and shook her head no. 

You huffed and walked over and produced a clear magical plate over Baldur and showed Freydis what the baby had looked like before- then showed her the progression of how he had healed so that she saw it happen with her own eyes. 

“He is your son,” you insisted. 

“Well not anymore. Deformity is a sign of the gods favor. You have taken that away from him and made him... He no longer has the gods’ favor,.” Freydis began to cry, acting as if you had killed her son yourself. You never imagined she would react that way, usually mothers blessed you and thanked you profusely for healing their little ones.  

You stared at her in disbelieving confusion before you looked at Ivar questioningly as you could see he was mentally trying to figure out what to say to her before you pulled the largest feather from your dress and touched the tip to the outside of her arm and watched the colors of the feather change and kept your facial expression neutral as it revealed her to you. Oh god, she was crazy. She was literally blinded by that false belief and had infected Ivar with it. 

You shook your head and put the feather back in place before you walked away and had to sit down and think, putting your head in your hands and scratching your scalp as you considered your options as you stared at the floor as you did your best not to be overwhelmed and keep your wits about you. You were bound to a power hungry tyrant with an insane wife. Well honestly, how was that any different than Hognyen? At least Ivar only had Freydis, and not a harem of bloodthirsty concubines that would torture you at a moments notice for the fun of it. Freydis was not naturally vicious at least.  “Freydis, this is our son. She just healed him. He was too deformed Freydis, he wouldn’t have lived for very long and he would have lived in agony the whole time, he is divine now, he's the fairest child ever to be born and he’s ours. Be grateful that he will have a good life now, an extraordinary one.” Ivar tried to comfort his wife but she withdrew from him. 

“Could you please…?” Ivar asked as he offered Baldur to you before you took him back so he could sit down and take the braces from his legs as Freydis watched him out of the corner of her eye before she noticed that he was actually walking normally. 

“You healed him too?” Freydis spat in disgust as Ivar looked absolutely wounded. Did she only love him because he was a cripple?

“She is a Valkyrie and a selkie of the sky, I managed to take her feather cloak off, it’s her cloak that makes me this way.” Ivar explained as he gestured to his legs and the cloak. 

“Then take it off!” Freydis demanded. 

“Yes, please, take it off.” You smiled in agreement. 

“No!” Ivar scoffed at both of you. “No, you see because I have this, I am more than any man now, I will not take it off.” Ivar argued. “Princess, even if I did, would I still be able to walk?” He asked you. 

“If I healed you, yes, but I don’t have enough magic in my being to do so in this moment, I will need time to recover and restore the magic I poured into your son. But in a few days I could, then yes, you would be healed and be able to walk without pain and once I do, you will never be crippled again. Because the changes I made to Baldur are permanent, so they would be permanent for you too. But please keep in mind that you can’t bury that feather cloak like you could a sealcoat if I were a selkie. Fur is much more durable than feathers and is meant to withstand the land and the sea. A feathercoat is only able to withstand the air, the wind and rain and snow, if it is buried in the earth, it will rot like a fallen log faster than you can blink and all it’s magic will be lost forever and I will remain in this form forever and I’ll never be able to go home, so please, until we can come to an arrangement for you to give it back to me, you must keep wearing it otherwise.” You urged Ivar as you laid Baldur on your chest, under your cloak to keep him warm before you took feathers from your own dress and put them on him, the feathers becoming white tattoos on his skin and changing into clothes for him. Because you had a feeling that Freydis was about to reject him and that he would be yours and you weren’t going to waste any time making him yours before you pulled a piece of fur off your cloak and it grew into a blanket you used to wrap around him as you reclined in the chair and got comfortable and listened to Ivar try to reason with his wife. 

“Freydis, listen to me, we are blessed! The gods have blessed us by sending us their princess! She is Princess Sasha of Heaven itself, it’s she who came to our son and healed our son, you have to believe it because it’s the truth. You know how much I suffer and have suffered because of my own deformity. This is what’s best for Baldur, don’t you want what’s best for Baldur?” He asked as he sat down next to his wife but she resisted him and wouldn’t let him hold her and was showing aversion to the cloak itself which caused you to smirk, if he really loved her, she was going to do all the work of getting your cloak back to you for you. So this wasn’t going to be so bad. She was your new best friend and greatest ally now but she would ask that you return her son to the way he was and you couldn’t do that, you had a heart of gold after all which was evidenced by the gold spine and gold dots in the middle of your feathers. But you could find a mildly deformed baby for her if that’s what she wanted. 

“Freydis, I can not undo what I have done to Baldur. But if a deformed child is what you want and what you need, I will find one to replace him.” You offered. 

“No!” Ivar boomed which made Freydis jump and start bawling before she ran away and Ivar chased after her. 

You began to feel sleepy and decided to turn your cloak into a lush bed and laid down to rest next to the chair as Ivar and Freydis argued and fought long into the night, Ivar having to sleep on the couch since Freydis wouldn't let him back into the bed. 

The next morning you woke up to an eerily quiet room and you found Baldur still sleeping peacefully in your arms before he stirred awake and you nursed him again, cooing and talking to him and softly singing to him and connected to him more and once you finished clothing him and giving him a magical diaper that would magic away his waste but would never leak and would grow with him until he was old enough to be potty trained, you got up and your bed shrunk back into a fur stole around your shoulders and sling around Baldur before attendants came and brought you to the dining hall where the dagmal was laid out for you and you began to eat. 

“So what did the colors mean when you put the feather to my arm?” Freydis asked you curiously. 

“The feathers reveal personality and attributes. It was a way of getting to know who you were as a person without having to spend hours in conversation.” You answered simply. 

“So what did it reveal about me?” Freydis inquired, her curiosity piqued. 

“That you are a kind and sweet person, you’re thoughtful, intelligent and hold to your beliefs very strongly. Amazing qualities for a mother and queen.” You smiled fondly as Ivar beamed happily. 

“And so what do my colors reveal about me?” Ivar asked. 

“That you are as clever and cunning as you are ruthless. Your pain tolerance is the highest that I’ve ever encountered, yet you are protective of not just your family, but your people, excellent qualities for a king.” You answered honestly, keeping perhaps the more salacious details to yourself. Because his colors revealed that he was power hungry, tyrannical, demanding, brutally violent, jealous and hateful yet deep down, all he wanted was to be loved, adored and admired. But that he would settle for being feared. 

“So what do your colors say about you?” Freydis asked. 

“The gold spine and dot to my feathers, reveal that I have a heart of gold, not literally but figuratively, that’s why I was so moved to heal your son. The glittering denotes that I have a mind like a diamond, strong yet brilliant and easily taught. The shimmering is how I can hold the attention of a room and not buckle under the pressure. The flashes of color depending on the light mean that I’m frugal with my wealth, discrete with my knowledge and information, righteous, honest, empathetic and clever too.” You listed off. 

“Are you married?” Freydis asked. “Promised to be engaged. I trust it won’t take too long for my attendants and guards to notice I’m missing since I did not return home last night and I’m supposed to meet with my promised groom next week. He’s a phoenix with the elemental powers of fire. I’m sure once he finds that I have been trapped here, it won’t take him long to find me, much less raze this city to the ground by raining fire from the clouds themselves like a heavy rain. This city has a fine wall around it, to protect it from forces on land. But quite weak considering the threats will be from above. Everything appears to be made of wood. Quite flammable.” You listed off casually as Freydis’ eyes got wide as she gave Ivar a meaningful look. 

“Surely it can’t come to that. I’m sure there will be negotiations.” Ivar ventured. 

“Possibly. But if I were you, I would consider what your ransom price will be to return me.” You advised before you finished your meal. 

“Now, since it seems that I am to stay here for a little while at least, do you have a room to accomidate me?” You asked Ivar. 

“Yes, of course,” Freydis answered as she got up and showed you to a room nearby. You were grateful it had a window, albeit, a small one. You went to the window and looked out to see if there were any birds flying around before your eyes saw a magnificent ruby hummingbird flitting all over before you made a call and she flew straight to you and transformed into your sister when it flew into the room because she had two bird forms, a ruby magenta peacock and a ruby hummingbird when she wanted to go ‘undercover’. 

“Anja!” You cried as you embraced her as tight as you could while Baldur was still strapped to your chest. 

“Sasha! What happened to you?! Everyone is freaking out! I had to lie and say you were sick to keep everyone from going into hysterics!” She explained before you told her what had happened to you, the whole time Anja in a constant state of horrified shock while she held and rocked Baldur in her arms.  

“Well I will come to you as often as I can, when he has his demands, I’ll take them and see what can be done. We don’t have much time!” She said before she left you and you felt relieved that at least your sister knew what had happened to you and would be your go between. She had always had your back. 

When Anja arrived back to the palace she innocently took up residence on your balcony before she walked through your room, moving the pillows she had used to fake your form so that it looked like you had rolled around in bed. But she gasped when one of your head guard, Rolf, came in. 

“Don’t you knock?!” Anja growled before she finished arranging the bed before she sat down to eat the meal that had been brought to you as he came and sat down next to her and helped himself to some of the food. 

“So how’s Fancy Pants doing?” He asked casually since he was the lead guard last night and it was because your sister was fucking him that he had dissmissed your other guardians. 

“Good, she’s calm and composed for now, thinking her rescue will come in a few days, I can’t wait to see how her colors change when she grows mad with worry, the poor bastard who took her cloak is a piece of work, classic tyranical king who thinks he’s a god blah blah blah.” She listed off as she shrugged nonchalantly before wiping the crumbs of the sandwhich off on her dress. Because truth be told, you were the “perfect daughter” who always did everything right and perfect and Anja was sick and tired of constantly being compared to you and being found less than like every other princess in your realm, that and the handsome fee she had gotten from Hongyen’s current royal consort who was wanting to be Empress was enough to turn your sister traitor to you. Anja had purposefully encouraged you to go on a solo flight last night because she needed you to be trapped by your own perfection and that heart of gold you had was the easeist way to do it because while others saw it as a strength, she felt she knew it to be your greatest weakness, besides your gulibility and naturally trusting nature. She had been shadowing Freydis in Kettegat for a while now, disguised as a simple maid and had used her black magic to suggest to Ivar to abandon his son in the woods that night in the hopes that you would hear the baby crying and come to its rescue, she and Rolf had even sat in a nearby tree to watch you duel with Ivar and had followed you to Kettegat to make sure you were at least safe and where to find you. Both of them grinning at each other when the transference took place and the price of your body guard’s loyalty was apparently your sister’s pussy in addition to a small percentage of the fee. 

“So at what point are we going to tell everyone she’s gone?” Rolf asked curiously. 

“Oh give it a few days of the ‘too sick to see anyone’. Chances are Hongyen will probably be relieved and move the date back by a year like he did with what’s her face.” Anja answered with a waive of her hand. “And hopefully, by then the Emperor and Empress will have moved on and found another “jewel” for their son’s crown. I mean if push comes to shove I have an imposter spell I’ll use to take her place because let’s be honest, the last thing the world needs is another perfect princess to make the rest of us look bad.” Anja grunted as she sat back in her chair in a very unladylike fashion before she belched. 

[lesbianmonsterlover]

Waterfalls and Whirlpools (4)

Urzash isn’t sure what she’s expecting when she wakes up, imprint of ink on her forearm from where she crashed on top of the journal.  She isn’t particularly surprised when there’s no return message, magic can be a fickle and finicky thing after all.  She does feel a pang of disappointment though at the thought that perhaps her delay in replying had cost her the opportunity to continue communicating with this Erin.  After a quick wash in the basin she joins her companions back downstairs for breakfast.  

“Any word from our strange new companion?”  Alys hands a mead to Urzash and frowns when the orc’s only response is to grumble and shake her head.  “Don’t look so put out, we have no idea how that book even works.” 

“It’s not like we’ve got time to get it checked out anyway, or have we all forgotten about that whole ‘we’re going to kill a dragon’ thing we agreed to last night?  Can we say we’ve all forgotten and pretend that never happened?”  Penny is picking at the wood of the table with a short dagger, pouting like the child she makes herself appear to be.  The halfling is fair, with a button nose and freckles that make her look like an innocent.  Her pigtails are full of bouncy curls and while her clothing is full of hidden pockets (like all good rogues) she still makes sure to disguise herself as a youngling.  After all, who would suspect the innocent, pouting little girl?

“Sorry Pen, ‘m afraid we can’t go back on our word.”  Urzash throws her arm around Penny’s tiny shoulders, squeezing the halfling into her side.  Penny just huffs and shoves uselessly at Ash’s ribs before scowling and crossing her arms, settling comfortably against the Orc’s side.  

“Screw you and your big people logic and your pride and ugh, fine!”  The slam of the halfling’s head on the wood makes Urzash and Alys both break out in peals of laughter.  Lithwe quirks a smile, cocking their head gently at the scene as they gaze on happily.  “Come on then, we’ve got to go visit my father if we’re looking for new arms.  We’ve gotta go in as prepared as possible.  Ice dragon...means we’re going to make sure to use some enchanted weapons.  You’re lucky Ash, with your big scary fire hands.”  Urzash laughs and ruffles Penny’s head at that, making the halfling squawk and swat at her big, green hand.  “Speaking of, shouldn’t someone be here with the front portion of our fee?  If we’re going to be stocking up it should be on their dime.”

Alys nods, glancing out around the room.  “Yes, although with Rolgar’s pride as wounded as it is I fear we may be left waiting until the last moment.  Something tells me he would enjoy seeing us fail.”  The snort Urzash lets out draws the attention of the rest of the group. 

“Sorry Al, just, ‘something’ tells you?  I think he’s as obvious as he can be without being blatant.”  Alys chuckles at that, shrugging a little with a nod.  

“I was attempting to be diplomatic, in case of prying ears.”  Her quirked brow makes Urzash chuckle bashfully and rub the back of her neck, beads clinking.  “I know, quite the thought that people might be listening in a place so private and secluded.”  Alys’ gaze sweeps sarcastically over the crowd at the inn’s tavern even at this hour of the day.  

“Speak of the Devil.”  Penny’s mumble interrupts Urzash and Alys as they finally notice Rolgar.  He’s greeting the bartender, and when he turns to continue over to the group they see what he really looks like after last night’s scuffle in the light of day.  His missing tusk makes Urzash want to smirk, but she bites back the urge and keeps her face in a neutral scowl.  He’s also sporting a swollen cheek on that side that side, mottled an ugly purple and green.  He glares but stomps over, as begrudgingly polite as his ego will allow. 

“Mornin’.”  The crew around the table greets him coolly, and he nods before tossing a heavy pouch of gold and silver coins on the table and leaning in to speak quietly.  “Twenty five hundred up front.  We expect to see you back at Urgaur with the Dragon’s head or not at all.”  Urzash resists the urge to spit at his feet, only nodding tersely before he straightens up and turns on his heel to march back out the door.  

The atmosphere is immediately brighter as soon as he’s gone, conversation picking back up in volume and tone.  Urzash though is still glaring at the door as though she could set him on fire through the thick wood.  “Well, that could have been worse.”  Penny stands abruptly and palms the pouch of coins, downing the last of her tea and stuffing the rest of her scone in her mouth.  She muffles out some approximation of “let’s go get some gear” around the doughy flaky treat and begins to stalk out of the tavern.

“Woah, hold it half-pint.”  Urzash grabs Penny by the hood and picks her up easily, Penny’s legs flailing beneath her as she whines out.  “Come on, let’s give the rest of us a chance to get something in our bellies.  Besides we both know your father won’t be done with his morning for another hour, remember when he left us waiting until half three because you tried to interrupt elevensies?”  Penny huffs and groans like a child, but brightens up when Urzash puts two more scones on her plate along with a healthy dollop of cream and jam.  

If nothing else Penny’s stunt got Urzash out of her funk and back into the usual jovial mood that they all needed before a big quest.  “Fine fine, I know when I’m beat.  When you’re right you’re right.”  Penny happily busies herself preparing her scone to her liking and making another cup of tea.  Urzash is finally presented with her breakfast, a huge plate of sausages and ham, fried eggs, corn cakes, and roasted tomatoes.  Urzash has to swat away the halfling’s hand once or twice, and looks the other way another time or two to ignore a missing chunk or two of meat.

Lithwe is quickly finished with their fruit, happily sipping on tea and watching the rest of the group eat.  Alys is having a plate similar to Urzash’s, although half the size, and by the time the two are finished eating the sun has reached its apex and Penny is starting to get antsy at the thought of trying new weapons.  “Come ooooon, you’ve got to be ready by now.  God, you big people are so slow!”  Penny’s joking resigned tone makes Urzash and Alys laugh.  

“Don’t lump me in with those two brutes.”  Lithwe’s delivery is deadpan as always, but the sparkle behind their eyes betrays their humor.  Penny’s answering giggle and wink as she all but disappears from view only to reappear on the other side of Lithwe away from the other two.  

“Oh I would never!  Us beautiful people have to stick together you know.”  The four walk out of the tavern together laughing and head down the main street of the large settlement.  Penny’s father Carver is a rather well known arms dealer, able to get all sorts of interesting, rare, and enchanted weaponry that others have a hard time getting their hands on.  Even if the origins themselves are...questionable, at best, the weapons are of incredible quality and durability.  

The walk is a short five minutes, and when they walk into the cool air of Claude’s shop they’re greeted by a flurry of fussing from the rather unexpected presence of Penny’s mother Pansy.  “Oh you four are just in time for tea, come in come in, you need to sit.  What brings you here, I thought you lot just got kitted up a few weeks ago?”  As they’re ushered deeper into the shop through a back door to a large table Carver appears from behind a large shelf with a smile and quirk of his brow. 

“I was wondering the same thing, dear.  What brings you lot of mangy mutts back?”  Carver’s tone is as teasing and light as Penny’s, and it puts everyone at ease.  Penny looks green at the gills though, nervous about telling her parents about the current plans.  

“Well, uh, ma, dad, we’ve ah, we got a big, bigbigbig, biiiig job.  Big job.  I mean, huge, heh.  So, ah, we need some...suitably...big...weapons?”  Penny trails off at the stern glare of her mother and confused look of her father.  Urzash and Alys meanwhile are trying to hold in a fit of laughter at Penny’s stressed rambling.  Penny looks pleadingly at the rest of the group for a little bit of assistance, and Alys manages to compose herself.  

“What Penny is trying to say, is we’ve been contracted by Urgaur stronghold to take care of a problem they’re dealing with.  So we’ve got to get weapons appropriate for the issue.”  Penny looks relieved as does Pansy, Carver however is giving Alys and Urzash a shrewd look.  He’s so rarely anything but jovial, even in doling out punishments, so to see him so serious is a little unnerving.   

“Big job and issue, hm?  What ah, what kind of weapons are you guys needing?  I need to know what you’re fighting in order to get you appropriate weapons, yeah?”  Penny blanches and Alys stumbles, making Pansy’s scowl return full force.  “Any reason you look so nervous to tell us, my darling, precious, only child, who I love very much and would hate to lose for any reason?”  Carver has pinned Penny with a look that Penny thought she had been the one to perfect.  The huge doe eyes should be out of place on someone her father’s age, but they just make her gut twist more with guilt.  

Urzash grumbles and runs her hands through her thick, dark hair, worrying at some of the larger beads along the strands.  “A dragon, alright?  I’m sure you’ve heard the news that the villages around Urgaur are dealing with Icewing again and that it’s getting closer to the stronghold as the days go on.  Considering the schedule or rhythm he seems to keep, we think we can get in and lie in wait to strike while he’s vulnerable.”  Pansy gasps and sits back heavily, fanning herself. 

“I’m going...I’m going to faint.  I’m gonna pass out.  Carver, darling, I don’t…”  Carver, for his part, has simply placed his head in his hands and started laughing hysterically.  A worrying reaction to be sure, considerably more concerning than Pansy’s hysterics.  When Carver lifts his head again, the group can see tears streaking down his freckled cheeks, but a look of stony resignation in his eyes. 

“Calm down darling, calm down.  It’ll be alright.  Y’know our girl Pan, she’s made her mind up eh?  Not much we can do now but make sure they’re as ready as they get.”  He sighs, but smiles fondly at the four.  “Come on then, let’s get some tea in you and then we’ll get you kitted.  I think we’ve got something in that you’ll need.”

Pansy, having calmed some, places a platter of cookies and sandwiches on the table and excuses herself to lie down.  Penny goes to join her mother, hoping to at least assuage some of her concerns and leave on a happy note.  Should the worst happen, this isn’t how she wanted their last meeting to go.  Alys and Carver are engaged in a rather lively discussion about the various benefits and drawbacks of her current armor style versus some newer constructions in from Lagrat.  So, Urzash takes this time to recheck the journal. 

She scoffs slightly but smiles at the message neatly penned beneath her own sleepy scrawling.  Easy and safe are not words that anyone would rightly associate with a quest to slay a dragon.  Still, it will be a nice distraction to learn about this US and the beings who inhabited it.  Any country where bandits have ceased to be a scourge to travelers is a good one in her books.  She files the book away to respond later, hopeful that the magic will be open again for her to communicate the way they had been writing back and forth.  For now, it’s important to focus on the task at hand, and that’s arming up to fight a dragon and save the very people who shunned her and made her life miserable.  

It’s an odd feeling, to be so attached to a culture and its people but also hate them for the way that they’ve mistreated you.  Urzash feels that clash daily, proud of her heritage and culture, but also ashamed of herself for being so because her natural ability was apparently something to be derided.  Her family, at least, was welcoming and supportive.  Still, those same people who had once shunned her have now come begging for her help, that natural ability they so reviled suddenly the thing that can save them from their otherwise deadly fate at the maw of an ice drake.  As much as she wishes she could tell them to shove it, to handle it themselves, she can’t.  She cannot, in good conscience, leave them to defend themselves when she and her friends were here and capable.  The money doesn’t hurt, either.  A good chunk of gold and trunk of jewels enough to soothe some wounded pride.  When Penny returns, looking a good bit lighter and happier, Carver stands from his spot at the head of the table.  “Well then, shall we to the armory?”

[fantasies-become-your-legacy]

Still taking prompts? Stuckony with established stucky trying to woo Tony who is almost willfully oblivious to their attempts, firmly believing that they could never want him when they have each other

YESSSsssssssssssSSSSSSSSSSsssss. Man, I love this type of shit.

It sort of got away from me BUT THE GIST OF YOUR PROMPT IS THERE I SWEAR~~~~~~~~~~

In nearly every room Tony walked into, he was the smartest person. He was used to that from a young age, it was almost commonplace. When he started meeting members of the Avengers and their associates, however, that certainty became challenged. To be frank, a challenge he revelled in. But, not by a long way, was Tony Stark ever considered to be the most foolish in a room.

Not unless he wanted to be.

Tony was observant, almost to a strange degree. After a brief amount of time with someone, he could remember nearly every tick of the other person. He knew Clint had a favouring to his left side, so always stood on it to speak with him. He knew Natasha had different teas for different mood, and which to keep stocked at what time. He knew when Thor was getting to locked in his own head and to ask him to help him test the suit in a spar to break the big guy out of his slumps. He knew a lot of minor details about everyone, nothing, not a lean or shuffle went unnoticed by Tony. So, yes, he was more than aware the super soldier duo were flirting with him. He just knew it was a lost cause to begin with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve and Bucky had been together on and off for as long as either of them could remember. Moving in together when they were younger was one of the happiness decisions of their lives, and the fact they could do the same now but didn’t have to hide their relationship was truly amazing. Bucky’s health had been steadily improving while living in the compound, so much so he has officially signed on as an Avenger. With the approval and recommendation of one Tony Stark. After all that had happened between them in Siberia, Bucky had assumed the worst. Stark wanted leverage over him. But when he went to visit Stark to see his demands, he walked away with an appointment to get his arm updated. The next visit saw a fully functioning arm, the next saw combat upgrades, the next an invitation to spar with the team (not just Steve and Natasha as he had been doing up to this point). It seemed Tony Stark didn’t want to hurt him, rather to help him. Bucky vowed to find out what his motives were right away.

Visiting the workshop was an accident at first. He was looking for the garage to take Steve’s bike out for a ride but found the workshop instead.

“You going to hover in the doorway all day or you coming in? I could actually use your help with something if you have a sec?” Tony asked, perched on a table to get a better angle at the suit hanging in front of him. Bucky silently came over, standing awkwardly, as if awaiting instructions. “Chill, blue steel, I just need you to try and rip the reactor out of this suit.”

“You need me to what?” Bucky squawked, looking down unconsciously at the reactor in Stark’s own chest.

“I took some severe damage to my suit when you tried it in Siberia. Now, that’s fine for me, I don’t need it to live anymore, rather it’s a precaution. But if this baby goes down in Rhodey’s suit, he’s trapped in a metal cage that he can’t get out of to run away from. That can’t happen. So, please, try to wreck this suit.”

It became commonplace after that. Tony would use Bucky as a durability tester on all his upgrades for the team. It actually helped him work out several bugs that he wouldn’t have noticed until a field test, by which it was too late by Tony’s opinion.

“You need to eat.” Tony stated abruptly one day, dropping a plate of sandwiches on Bucky’s lap. “Pastrami on rye, I know you can’t pass those bad boys up.” He knew for a fact they were the other man’s favourite.

“What?”

“We’ve been working for six hours straight, and you hadn’t eaten before you came down. Eat. I don’t want you passing out on me.”

“Careful, Shellhead, it sounds like you care.” Bucky teased.

“Of course, I care. Steve won’t try and break my stuff, you’re the only test dummy I have.” He winked before returning to the bow in front of him.

It was then he went from ‘Stark’ to ‘Tony’ in Bucky’s mind.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Realising he was in love with Tony took a little longer.

Bucky had taken to hanging out in the workshop when he wasn’t working with Tony. Something he knew Steve used to do before everything that happened, happened. He’d sit in the corner of the room on the couch on his laptop, catching up on things he’d missed, or just reading. It was peaceful.

“I really like having you down here.” Tony said out of the blue. “It’s nice not being alone down here again, sort of feels like we’re all coming back together again.”

“Do you want us all to be together?” Bucky asked carefully, knowing the accords and what went down was a lot of mental pain for the genius.

“I want my family back.”

Somehow, after that, Steve came to the workshop again.

The three of them were tense at first, unsure how Steve would fit in this new dynamic, but for no reason. Within the week Steve’s painting supplies retook their old home in the corner, Bucky and Tony started taking regular breaks so they all could eat together, Tony didn’t flinch when Steve touched him. Things were becoming a new normal that suited them all.

Until Bucky screwed it up.

Well, he thought he had. Or rather, he was going to.

There had been a gala, a black-tie event hosted by the Maria Stark foundation to raise money for city repairs after the last attack on New York. Tony had organised the most lavish event and ensured the Avengers were all in attendance. All was going well, he was drinking, dancing with Steve, all in all having the best night he’d had in a while. Then something strange happened.

Rather, then Strange happened.

Some surgeon, (established, rich, asshole surgeon), had been by Tony’s side for far too long. Bucky felt jealously burn in his chest when he saw that prick making Tony laugh or touching his arm or standing entirely too close for people who had just met. It was enough to make Bucky’s blood boil.

Few things in life are certain: the grass is green, the sky is blue, Steve Roger’s is a terrible liar, and you can tell exactly what Bucky Barnes is thinking by the look on his face. This particular fact was know very well by Steve Rogers, who caught the look and was by Bucky’s side again in a flash.

“You too, huh?” Steve sighed, glaring over at Tony and the surgeon.

“Me what too?” Bucky snapped his head to Steve in confusion.

“You’re jealous—”

“I just think Tony shouldn’t be wasting his time with some—”

“—because you like him too.” That gave Bucky a moment for pause.

“Of course I like him, he’s my closest friend after you.”

“No, Buck, you have feelings for Tony.”“What?” He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief, before looking over at Tony and seeing that stupid crinkle his eyes do when he laughs, which was too adorable to be fair really and—“Oh my god I like Tony.”

“Welcome to the club, pal.”~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For Steve, it had been a long time coming.

Falling in love with Tony just came so naturally to him that it wasn’t a shock when he realised it. More of an Oh, of course it’s you. It’s been you all along.

They’d all been in the workshop, Tony under the bottom of some old car while Bucky was under the hood. The two of them were set on making this old Corvette pristine again, Tony even built a new smart engine for her. Steve watched on affectionately as Tony rolled out from underneath, looked up at Bucky and smiled. One of those big smiles that reached his eyes and makes them crinkle in a way that’s all too adorable to be fair. Then he turned that damned look to Steve and everything clicked.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as they realised their joint affections, and that both of them wanted to bring Tony into the relationship, the super soldier duo set to romancing the genius.

Flowers were sent to the workshop with the note To brighten your day as much as you brighten ours. Tony had laughed and attributed it to a prank from Clint.

Bucky had the genius idea of breaking a part off of his arm, so Tony had to repair it, but that only got him a long, angry lecture and an “I told you so” from Steve.

Steve tried chocolate covered strawberries which Tony immediately threw out as Pepper was coming over that day.

The pair were becoming exhausted trying to think of new methods to woo Tony. The rest of the Avengers caught on when they made sure Tony had to sit between them at movie night, Tony just thought sitting next to the ‘two space heaters’ was a solution to his always being cold.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You need a hand with this, doll?” Bucky smiled easily as he took a stack of papers out of Tony’s arms.

“Yeah actually, can you get Bruce to help me categorise these mission reports?”

“I can help.”

“You hate paperwork.” Tony pointed out warily.

“So do you, so let me help and it will be over quicker.” Bucky continued, heading for the office with the now dumbfounded Tony looking on behind.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh! I got it!” Steve rushed out to grab the door ahead of Tony, who only looked up at him in confusion.

“I have hands?”

“Yeah, no, I know. I just, I didn’t want you spilling your coffee, and I was here so I thought I’d just get it.”

“Right…thank you, I guess.” Tony said warily, walking through and shaking Steve’s weird behaviour off.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s your favourite flower, right?” Steve smiled, rocking back on the balls of his feet as he waited for Tony’s reaction to his painting.

“They are. Steve, its beautiful but you didn’t have to paint me anything. Let me pay you at least, this is far too much effort for me.”

“Tones no, it’s a gift. Buck was saying you wanted to keep flowers, but you suck at keeping plants alive. Can’t kill a painting.” He beamed, proud of his logic. Tony actually laughed at that.

“That’s fair. Huh…I didn’t think he was listening to me ramble. Good to know. Thank you, Steve, I mean it.”~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony Stark was observant, almost to a strange degree. After a brief amount of time with someone, he could remember nearly every tick of the other person. He knew Steve hated the cold more than he did, so made sure Friday kept the heat at an even temperature in every room he was in. He knew that Bucky hated confined spaces, so made sure always to hold training in a room with windows so he never felt trapped. He knew they were both trying to woo him.

Tony Stark was never considered to be the most foolish in a room.

Not unless he wanted to be.

He knew all too well the soldiers cared for him. Cared for…wrong wording. Were interested in Tony. Crushes and infatuations happened all the time, he was no stranger to it. The soldiers wanted to try something new in their relationship, then Tony would be cast aside when the next new thing came along. He was a fad, a fun idea, nothing more. And nothing would happen. His heart wouldn’t take it if it did.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was when Peter came to the compound for training and Steve and Bucky both immediately jumped on him, offering to help him with his homework or sparring, Tony finally blew up.

“What is your problem?” Tony growled, pulling them into a meeting room while Happy quizzed peter on his various web functions.

“What are you talking about! We just wanted to help out with the kid.” Bucky smiled innocently.

“You hate kids.” Tony shot back.

“Yeah, under the age of five. This one’s cool.”  Tony rolled his eyes and ignored that, turning on Steve.

“You! You can’t lie for shit, what are you two up to?”

“Nothing! We’re just trying to help you out!”

“Because I’m so useless right?” Tony laughed, leaving the other two confused.

“I’m sorry what?”

“Doll, what’re you talking about?”

“I know exactly what you two have been doing. Holding doors, helping with paperwork, making sure I eat, you make me take breaks from my work because you think I can’t do anything by myself! You treat me like a damn child!”“We were trying to be sweet!” Bucky defended.

“By treating me like some helpless damsel who can’t walk two feet without a big strong man there to protect her? Look, I understand what you two have been trying to do, and I’m not interested.” Steve and Bucky’s hearts immediately sank.

“You aren’t?”

“Look, Steve, ten years ago I’d have jumped at the chance of a threesome with you too but that isn’t me anymore. I can’t do flings. My last relationship was a five-year thing, I’m a relationship guy now I don’t sleep around. Not even for you two. I’m sorry.”

“Wait,” Steve grabbed Tony’s wrist as he tried to leave. “We don’t want to just sleep with you, we want to be with you. Together, all of us.”

“It would never work.” Tony said immediately pulling away. “You’d get bored, you’d get jealous—”

“We both want you, doll, it won’t be like that, we just wanted to ask you to try—” Bucky began before he was cut off.

“We can’t! It wouldn’t work! Don’t think I didn’t notice how jealous you got at the gala when I was only with Stephen.” That was the last straw for Bucky, who let of an exasperated laugh.

“Oh, he’s Stephen now! Please, Tony, tell me you wouldn’t be jealous if you saw someone flirting with the man you loved!”

“Flirting! He’s an old friend, who is happily engaged. How dare you even—wait. Loved?” Tony shook his head, his mouth trying to form words he couldn’t think of.

“Yes. Love.” Steve smiled a little. “You thought this was just some game to us?”

“You guys are so perfect together I just…I can’t see—I can’t see why you’d still want me too.” Bucky caught Tony’s chin and tilted his head up to look at them. “Because you’re everything we’ve been missing and more. You’re our missing piece. It feels like we’ve been waiting our whole lives for you. And I refuse to lose you because you’re scared. I love you.”

“I love you.” Steve echoed.

In nearly every room Tony walked into, he was the smartest person. You didn’t need to be a genius, however, to know what he was feeling. Few things in life are certain: the grass is green, the sky is blue, Steve Roger’s is a terrible liar, you can tell exactly what Bucky Barnes is thinking by the look on his face, and Tony Stark wears his heart on his sleeve.

“I love you both too.”

[knightofbalance-13]

https://sokumotanaka.tumblr.com/post/177509479149/back-on-my-bullshit

Welp, guess you can take mine then.

Let’s tweak the lore a bit.

*slaps five bucks on the table* I’m betting you fundamentally break the lore until it doesn’t work anymore.

During a discussion with a friend of mine I was going on about inconsistencies in rwby cause she never watched it but was aware of some of the flaws and was curious. The conversation soon turned from my disdain for the series flaws (really I’m so tired guys) to fixing certain flaws in the narrative, and during our swapping she asked me how if yang had aura did adam cut through yang’s aura.

You know, I’d bet that all those ‘flaws’ are just bullshit you told her.

Also: If you hate the series, why the fuck are you supporting it? or are you pirating it in which case, you don’t get to complain.

I told her want miles told us and I can tell you the look on her face was priceless, she then asked why his blade was pure red and frankly after 5 seasons we don’t know shit about adam but one can assume it could be made from metal that cut around aura.

Did you tell her about that time Monty literally fucked up one of his own twists by putting oin Penny in a fight where she wasn’t needed?

because knowing Monty kind of helps understand most of the decisions of early RWBY.

One would argue why everyone doesn’t have this metal then but that’s a different subject altogether, Point is We fixed the lore and it was a long ways back we had to go to do so.

Grab the popcorn everyone, he’s gonna fuck it so badly.

(If you watched Celtic phoenix’s lore video on the grimm this makes a lot more sense.)Suffice to say: Grimm leave behind the white bone like armor when they die.)

*ducks as a gear flies over his head*

Literally the very first statement you said broke the lore. Grimm don’t leave ANYTHING behind. That is CANON. And if they do leave the white armor behind when they die, that REALLY defangs a lot of their horror since, if they can leave things behind they7 can be studied, weaknesses can be found and it takes away from the unusual horror they exude as they solely attack humans and leave nothing behind, defying two things that the animals they emulate do.

So adam’s sword is an expensive and rare type of metal obtained by one grimm. The elephant grimm, see as we see them in the series they seems to stand far off from cities and we never seen any fight so like real elephants there’s something spectacular about their bone plating, they eat precious gems and metal unlike other grimm and hunters during the graduation into full time hunters have the option to go kill these grimm for some incredibly powerful metals stored in the bone plating on the grimm.

A. It is expressly SAID and SHOWN they will fight if they think they can win.

B. Grimm have never shown any other biological functions like eating or sleeping. That helps make them scary because it drives a FURTHER disconnect between what we as pattern seeking beings we are would assume of them.

C. These Grimm are shown to be bigger than skyscrapers and have hides that shrug off bullets. They are some of the strongest Grimm in the series and now you make them look like slightly tougher Ursas.

D. Their PLATING is not special, THEY are. 

And E. HOW is it that consuming gem stones and rare metals makes them grow this strong metal? How? Rare metals are NOT strong weapons, they are in fact pretty damn fragile when it comes down to it. Gold is actually pretty soft you know?

If it’s magic...HOW does the magic work? And why is magic not universally accepted in RWBY then?

Oh and F. You ripped this off from Sableye from Pokémon. For a guy who screeches about RWBY barely holding a resemblance to anything, your ideas seem heavily reliant on others.

Problem is these grimm have a high kill count, cause they’re elephant like and they’re smart so they stick in groups deep in forest with traps and the aid of less intelligent grimm that they can command.

A. HOW can a fucking elephant make traps that aren’t super obvious?

B. WHY would other Grimm hang around these creatures? They are not pack creatures nor would other Grimm be smart enough to listen to them.

C. If these Grimm are so intelligent as to make traps and command less Grimm why have they NOT killed off humanity long before this setting? 

C2. If not THAT, why haven’t these intelligent Grimm that can apparently command other Grimm not command their underlings to eat rare gem stones and rare metals in order to have this super metal too?

Occasionally you’ll find a really good Titanium like metal made from grimm that seems to bypass aura like they do (recently that’s changed but we actually seen grimm cut and bite despite aura existing) and that’s why adam’s blade ignored yang’s aura instead of “Well it’s awesome heheh.” This way besides just killing grimm it makes the world feel a little more alive, people can kill certain grimm for certain metals (students at signal start out with more down to earth metals and when they graduate they can go hunt a grimm as graduation form their more fantasy like materials to make new or improve their weapon.)

You know, that Titanium comment really goes to show your double standard about RWBY.

Titanium ,as you are thinking of, RARELY occurs in nature and instead is found mostly in sand as numerous different types of minerals. To get pure Titanium, you’d need to REFINE it. And Titanium, in and of itself, isn’t actually very durable. As a natural metal yes it is for how light weight it is as well as how resistant it is to extreme tempetures. But it’s still only equal to common low grade steel and like many metals, it’s true strength lies in being mixed into alloys where it becomes a component of the metal.

AKA Titanium as we know it, made from it’s pure state along with being mixed with certain metals, CANNOT BE FOUND IN NATURE. So such a metal WOULDN’T EXIST in a Grimm due to eating NATURALLY MADE metals.

You could explain it away with “magic!” but A. that defeats the entire purpose of you making all these details just to end it with “magic!” and B. We both know you’d be attempting murder on Miles and Kerry if they tried anything remotely similar.

And there lies the hypocrisy: your explanation has the EXACT SAME ISSUES you have with Adam’s original explanation (in which it makes no sense) except it takes far bigger leaps in logic, breaks several rules of canon to the point of needing NUMEROUS retcons to fix it and being over complicated as FUCK. And yet you have the audacity to claim you fixed anything.

Same thing with the Shade Academy thing: It’s same shit you bitch about with the Fanaus except you have set ZERO foundation for the culture of the area to support such an idea unlike the Fanaus.

You BROKE canon.

And worst of all: there was a MUCH simpler explanation.

It’s just a tweak but what do you think? got better ideas? Or addtions?

Yeah:

Adam’s sword had Dust.

Or his Semblance lets him cut through people’s Auras.

The original explanation of “He just hit her hard enough” makes more sense AND is much simpler to understand.

There’s a saying Sokumotanaka:

If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it.

You gave a giant convoluted bullshit explanation that sounds like M. Night Shamalyan wrote a WOR episode when much simpler and more effective answers stared you in the fucking face. Ergo, you don’t know how to actually WRITE RWBY.

Because god knows what you’d do to the main conflict.

[wendip-week]

Wendip Week 2018 Part 3: Combat

Hey guys, sorry for not posting these here during Wendip week. Let me give you a run-down of the background: I made my Wendip Week in context of the Kamen Rider Weird series I’m writing, which takes place in the future of SuperGroverAway’s universe (with ddp456 influence….yes, I had permission from them both). As a result, the main characters - including Phoebe, their daughter - from my series are co-hosts for this week. I’ll post more of Wendip Week here, but for those of you who want to read the main story, follow me on fanfiction.net or leave a guest review. Now, then, here’s part 3 of Wendip Week 2018:

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“So, Ken, since you’re a fighter, let me ask you what you think about my Dad’s capabilities in a fight?” Phoebe mischievously grinned.

Ken, however, was ready for the comment. “With or without this?” he shot back as he moved his jacket to flash the Journal Driver on his waist.

Phoebe shrugged “Touche, but I’m not revoking the question. Well?”

Ken started counting fingers as he listed. “Skinny body and arms makes for small hitbox, that magnet gun gives him good range on electrical enemies and anything that can be knocked back, but not much muscle power and therefore not really good for melee purposes. He’s more like Ford in that his fighting style just doesn’t work without tech.”

“You’re forgetting one thing….” Phoebe leaned forward in gleeful anticipation.

Ken sighed and revealed several bruises on his forearm before continuing. “Be advised; do not hit him while his wife is around, even during a practice match. Learned that the hard way.”

Phoebe leaned back as the two entered memory lane again. “Spoiler Tag, but…You sure did…”

########################################################################

Ken and Dipper stood facing each other a good twenty feet from the Mystery Shack, the younger of the two with raised fists in a battle position while the elder fingered a metal device next to his hip.

“You sure about this, boss?” Ken said anxiously, his face betraying his concern for his teacher. “I’ve known how to fight even before the Journal Driver existed. You’re not playing with an advantage here.”

Dipper was uncharacteristically calm. “You engaged Practice Mode like I taught you, right?”

“Yeah, nothing lethal.”

“Good, then we’ll be fine. Besides…” Dipper said, rocking back and forth like he was once again in a live version of Fight Fighters. “I was supposed to wear that. I kinda want to know how I would have done.”

“Alright then,” Ken whipped out the Chapter labeled 00. “I’m not holding back!” With that he clicked the button on it, unsheathing the metal contact tip as the indicator light on the drive turned green with a satisfying PING. As he inserted it into his Driver, the Driver began the chant:

“NEW CHAPTER!”

Ken’s hands went high above his head before he rolled them into fists and slowly brought them down in front of his face. As the Driver continued - “WHO IS. THE STUDY TODAY?” in an upbeat rhythm - he crossed his hands and opened them to the fingers were on either side of the faceplate.

“Henshin!”

The second he spun the plate and it clicked, a giant brown page grew out of nothingness and hid him from view.

“GO WEIRD! I’m a Kamen Rider for the uncommon writer!” The belt exclaimed.

Rider armor was sketched onto it before it drifted backwards, the middle becoming stretched as it reached Ken and tried to keep going. Finally, the brown and yellow Rider burst through the page as it shattered, the black buglike eyes on his mask giving the appearance of a man ready for a fight.

He raised his hand to the left as his Driver called out, “Quill Saber!” Instead of the normal silver blade, however, an orange plastic facsimile appeared in his hands. With it in hand he charged Dipper, who did not hesitate to shoot  off three blasts of the magnet gun’s pulse setting in the meantime.

TSEW! KA-SHING!

Despite being only a mock version of the Quill Saber, it proved durable enough for Ken to deflect all of the incoming blasts. Within seconds he had cleared the distance between the two and was rearing his arm to strike - with the flat, of course.

But Dipper had been in enough fights to know what to do. He leaned down and rammed his fist straight into Weird’s gut, forcing the Rider back a foot. The bought him the precious second needed to roll out of the way and shoot one more time. Weird was not prepared for that, and with a THUNK the Quill Saber fell and stabbed the ground.

Weird jumped into the air and kicked down to where Dipper was, but the explorer deftly crossed his arms and absorbed most of the impact. It still caused him to fall with Weird on top of him, but Dipper had seen this exact position some time ago and simply had to copy a certain redhead. “Get off me!” he demanded as he kicked Weird off.

Inside the suit, Ken rolled a few feet and winced. “God, I hate practice mode! No enhanced strength…this armor actually has weight to it now!”

As Dipper got up, Ken knew he had only one chance. Without hesitation, he kept rolling until he got to where his makeshift blade had fallen. Springing up, he had just enough time to see Dipper raise the magnet gun once more. With a mighty heave, Ken used the flat to knock it clean out his hands before delivering a sidekick. Dipper and the gun fell at the same time, but one was too far away from the other to make any difference.

Before the archaeologist could move anymore, Ken’s blade was at his throat. As the Kamen Rider asked “How’s that for you, boss?” Dipper couldn’t help but grin.

“Well played, Ken. I guess you really do make a better Rider than I would have.”

“Then I guess the game is mi-”

TWANG! CLANK!

Suddenly Ken felt the blade being ripped out of his hand. As it fell to the ground, the two males noticed something else now sticking out of the grass - an arrow.

“Someone roughing up my dork down there?”

Ken gulped as he looked up in the treetops. Sure enough, there Wendy sat, crossbow in one hand and hatchet in the other, with a face filled with only fury. Looking down at Dipper, noticing for the first time how bruised he had gotten in the fight - complete with two scratches and a swollen eye, somehow - he panicked

“Wendy, it’s not what it looks like - ”

“Save your apologies!” With that, the lumberjill jumped off the tree and swung the axe at poor Kamen Rider Weird.

He was no fool and immediately began stepping backwards, dodging and ducking as Wendy continued to walk forward and swing at him. For all he knew he had just awoken a sleeping giant. But for all that rage, he never guessed that she had still kept her wits about her. For when Ken prepared to fend off another blow, Wendy rapidly switched to her crossbow and fired a bolt straight into the shoulder of his armor. Weird moved to pull it out before feeling his body stiffen. As he felt the tree trunk behind him, he realized what the lumberjill had been doing - she tricked him into backing up straight into a hard surface so she could trap him and show no mercy.

“I’m ripping that armor off you, Ken!” With that, Wendy began hacking at the chestplate, sparks flying as she made no progress but did leave the poor boy in quite a lot of pain with each blow.

From where he lay, Dipper looked up. “Glad I told you to put the belt on for this, huh?”

Ken could only reply between buffets, “OW! Yes! OW! UNCLE! UNCLEE!”

###################################################################################

After a few minutes of cleaning and a half hour in the healing chamber in the lab, the two main combatants of the day felt almost like new. Dipper had gone before Ken, and as the boy stood up after his turn, the elder of them turned to look at his unabashed wife. Grinning like an idiot, he said “Well, you sure were a big help today, but I think you had a little too much fun out there.”

“Sorry, Indiana Jones,” she teased in reply, “but watching you get beat up like that left me unable to think for a minute.”

“You know,” Ken said, rubbing a spot on his shoulder that was still sore - no one said the machine was perfect - “If you’re going to keep calling him that, at least buy him a whip so you don’t have to intervene next time.”

Wendy laughed. “Fair enough. Sorry about the bowshot, by the way.”

“Eh, that’s alright. Now I know to keep an eye on my blind spots for potential enemies.” Ken offered his hand.

Dipper and Wendy took turns shaking it as the former replied. “Good effort, but I hope you learned something else too. Something that’ll make you seem more native to the region.”

“What is that?” Ken smiled, confused but amused.

Dipper put an arm around his wife. “Hell hath no fury like a ticked off person with Corduroy blood.”

“Or the Pines name, it seems.” Ken added as the three laughed together.

#########################################################################################

“I’m sorry, what?” Phoebe said, unaware that she was balling up her fist and crushing her Pitt Cola can in the process.

Ken looked alarmed at the amount of soda dripping over her hand. “Hey, I only said the second half of that! Your dad made the joke, blame him!”

“I don’t even…why….Dad…” she calmed down enough to noticed the crushed can in her hand and the resulting mess. “Huh.”

Ken pried, “Who were you mad at just now, me or him?”

Phoebe sighed as she got up to get some tissue to clean up. “Honestly, I don’t even know anymore…”

[th3p41n73dpr1nc3]

BNHA OC Template

Name: John Roderick Porter

Pronunciation: jon : rod-er-ick : poor-ter

Meaning of Name: John: Biblical Hebrew name meaning Jehovah has been gracious/has shown favor. Roderick: Middle Latin Rodericus; derived from Old High German Hrodrich (Famous Ruler), a compound name composed from the elements hruod (fame) and rik (king, ruler). Porter: English and Scottish roots; occupational name for the gatekeeper of a walled town or city, or the doorkeeper of a great house, castle, monastery, from Middle English porter ‘doorkeeper’, ‘gatekeeper’.

Hero/Villain Name: Kingslayer

Nicknames: Scip, prince, immortal douchebag

History of Nicknames: Scip is the slang used by the SCP Foundation to describe an anomalous object, person, or place. This is always connotated in the form of SCP-[Insert SCP Number Here]. Prince was given to him as a shortened version of his self-proclaimed nickname of “The Painted Prince”. Immortal Douchebag; this nickname should really explain itself.

Aliases: Mr. Death, Agent Porter, Captain, the Grim Reaper

Nationality: American (Ex Patriot)

Affiliation: SCP Foundation; SCP Foundation Ethics Committee; The Cult of Jashin

Student Number: N/A because he is a teacher.

Quirk: Quirkless. His abilities are not the result of a quirk. They were obtained through anomalous means.

Anomalous Abilities: Reincarnated by the god of death (Jashin) in order to follow His will with the myriad of siblings he has that also inhabit this world. He is invulnerable to physical damage and upon offering a blood offering, (usually his own heart by cutting it out of his chest), to be blessed by Jashin, he may access a heightened state that excels his physical capabilities to rival All Might’s. The heightened state will only last as long as the heart he as offered stays beating. As a new heart regenerates within his chest, the heart outside will gradually decay. When the new heart has fully regenerated, he no longer has his powerup. He is experienced with the use of most firearms, several forms of martial arts, including bladed weapons training, from his centuries of service to the Foundation.

Birthday and Astrology Sign: [REDACTED]

Birthplace: [REDACTED]

Death Date: [REDACTED]

Death Place: [REDACTED]

Age: ~ 475 - 500

How old does he look: Mid-Twenties

Mental Age: 12-50 (it depends on the kind of mood he’s in)

Gender: Cis-Male

Orientation/Sexuality/Preference: Prefers Alternian men. Humans began to bore him after so many failed relationships. On his first try with an Alternian, there was immense friction (giggity) but the two of them eventually learned to love and crave one another’s company through and through. (Total Bottom Bitch but still masc.)

Appearance:

Eye Color: Neon Pink

Eye Shape: Average/Round

Do they wear contacts/glasses: Both; he will keep a pair of regular brown eyed contact lenses if he is feeling a need to blend in with less effort. Glasses are more for the fact that he loves how fashionable and hates that he actually needs them.

Hair: Bleach/Bone white. Kept in a neat and tidy undercut with the hair always styled back. Light stubble on his face as well, (slightly lighter than Aizawa).

Weight: 86.2 kg

Height: 180.3 cm

Body Build: Toned/Lean. He has slight disgust for people who take their muscle masses too far. Looking like a Greek god is one thing, but it is an entirely different issue for those who “go beyond”.

Body Shape: Elongated Downward Trapezoid

Complexion: Fair skin, no wrinkles despite his [REDACTED] age.

Cup Size: [REDACTED] (lol)

Blood Type: [REDACTED]

Handedness: Right handed. (Sidenote): Prefers a bladed weapon over firearms or fists but will use the firearm if he’s in a hurry or his hands if he wishes to experience the intimacy of a kill if it’s personal.

Hand Type: Average Sized/Proportional to his body. (Practiced Hands).

Nails: Clean, Well Maintained/Manicured.

Movement:

How does he walk: Carries himself well, walks with a purpose. Typically tries to keep an average pace as he feels that if he is moving too quickly it will likely raise suspicion.

Posture: Tall/Imposing, vulnerable when he is with his troll husband.

Flexibility: Can do all sorts of things with his body.

Voice: Booming when needed, (used to train recruits). Can sing relatively well if he’s had a decent amount of liquor. Not too deep but not too high pitched either.

Speech Mannerisms: None, he is very good at orating, especially since he is a teacher at UA. Orally gifted. (Approved by Arcita Porter).

Scars: “Y-Shaped” autopsy scar, outer/inner arms and legs are riddled with cut marks from sacrificing. Back is covered in whipping scars as well as deep scratch scars from his troll hubby.

Birthmarks: None

Piercings: Ears, does not wear anything in them anymore. Had snake bites when he was much, much younger, but the holes have filled in these days.

Tattoos: Inner right forearm where scars are not as prevalent; inverted equilateral triangle inside a circle, the symbol of Jashin. Above and below this tattoo are the names of friends and esteemed colleagues that he has lost throughout the centuries. Inner left forearm has the insignia of the SCP Foundation, along with additional names of friends and colleagues. Arms and body are riddled with various runes (blood, moon, and daedric), all of which are paying religious homage to Jashin.

Facial Structure: (Will be devoting more time to bring you an actual picture of this when my drawing skills improve as I have just started drawing and am nervous about butchering my muse).

Statistics:

Power: 4.5/5.0 Stars A-

Speed: 3.0/5.0 C (Regular) : 4.8/5.0 A (Heightened State)

Technique: 5.0/5.0 A+ (He’s an old geezer he knows what he’s doing).

Intelligence: 4.9/5.0 (Experience far outweighs youth in his case).

Extra Explanation: The man is centuries old. He has no issues getting his hands dirty, as he has a long career of doing so for the sake of the Foundation’s secrecy, and acquisition of scips. He was one of the first pairs of boots on the ground when it came to rounding up individuals with quirks in an effort for his superiors to document and study what was at one time considered an anomalous humanoid. Ironically enough he met his current husband through the same way. He is loyal to the Foundation but he still has enough of a brain to think for himself. As a great agent once said with his dying breath, “You ain’t machines. You ain’t tin soldiers. You’re people, men an’ women who do the shit nobody else can do. An’ people make a choice. There’s a damned big difference between doing’ the job because you were told to, an’ doin’ it because it’s gotta be done.” Although he detests some of humanity’s more harsh decisions, he will still lay himself on the front lines if it means the protection of the masses. He does not usually talk/brag about his faith, but he has no problems answering honest questions about it with honest answers. Questions pertaining to his past/current career however are met with the typical response of “it’s classified”.

The reason he is as old has he is was essentially my own personal compensation since a genetic trait taking over 80% of a population of a number > 7 billion would take an immense amount of time. The reason that history is not nearly as long as it normally would be is because there was an GH-0: Dead Green House Scenario where the Foundation had to utilize the site located in SCP-2000. Shortly before shit hit the fan for the world a new anomalous virus was discovered that allowed humans to obtain superpowers. The virus was immensely contagious and would register as a recessive trait in the human genome that carriers often went unnoticed and were often successful in flying under the Foundation’s radar. All it took was a few of the recessive carriers to live amongst the general populous for the virus to take effect; the Foundation only being able to notice this after it was too late and reluctantly giving up efforts to confine individuals with quirks, a.) because their cells were filled, and b.) because quirks became generally accepted. However, that doesn’t essentially mean that the Foundation chose to stay uninvolved.

Eventually, through manipulation of their allied nations’ governments, they were able to obtain specimens to research on, which allowed them to design and manufacture a variety of products that ran from containment procedures and tools that the police forces of today are often found using, to various types of clothing and products that are aimed to be sold specifically towards individuals with quirks. The profits of these products go straight towards the Foundation’s budget as maintaining a global fascist coalition of a pseudo secretive shadowy organization with little oversight can tend to be quite expensive. (To be clear, none of the aforementioned products have anomalous properties, they are strictly for selling to the masses to increase funding efforts).

Description of Anomalous Abilities: John Porter is a Painted Child of Jashin. This essentially means that he wouldn’t die even if God him/her/themselves was the one pulling the trigger. He has an ability known as a “Heightened State” where through the obtainment and offering of his still beating heart out of his own chest, he is able to access Jashin’s wrath, a power boost that is highly similar to All Might but without the whole huge muscled look. The power boost only lasts as long as the heart outside his body while a new one regenerates within his chest.  

Clothing:

Hero/Villain Costume: Foundation Issued Black Multicam Fatigues and Jacket, 5.11 Tactec Plate Carrier Vest, Black Hiking Shoes, a black skull balaclava, a black multicam baseball hat with a grim reaper patch on the Velcro front, a pair of Oakly Straight Jacket sunglasses with the Fire lenses, a durable over the ear headset with a microphone, a pair of Oakly Pilot gloves, and a military sapper backpack.

Equipment: (All Foundation Issued). Preferred primary weapons of choice are the M4 carbine and the SR-25 designated marksman rifle; preferred sidearm is the HK USP .45. He also has been known to carry a machete, gifted to him by the Unholy Father (Jashin). On occasions it has been known to cause people’s limbs to go missing. Where they go…nobody knows.

Uniform: He is not a student so no uniform. He does however always ensure that he is looking presentable in a three-piece suit. The colors vary as he is very gay and loves to have options.

Preferred Outfit: His husband. (Lol jk, but not really…they screw a lot). He typically likes his stay at home days where he can wear nothing but a tank top and his boxer briefs and lounge around while he is grading papers and homework assignments. Should spontaneous company show up he will wear a bathrobe.

Characteristics:

Personality: John Porter is a man who will happily sit back and observe a conversation before kicking the proverbial door in and offering his two cents. He tries to find a balancing point between giving people honest advice in ways that will not cause emotional trauma.

Meyer’s Brigg’s: ENFP, -A / -T

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Big Five Personality Traits: Gay, Calm, Intelligent, Quiet, Honest

Enneagram: 4 Individualist, Romantic

Most prominent personality trait: His calm demeanor.

Best Traits: Gay and Honesty

Worst Traits: Gay and Honesty

Likes: Clothing, Liquor, Sex with Husband, molding young minds, seeing his husband perform in concert.

Dislikes: People’s useless bullshit, overtly preachy religious people, hero’s who abuse the popularity system for monetary or status gain.

Quirks (little silly things he does): When seated he will shake an empty whiskey glass full of ice to anyone that is walking by and is physically between him and the source of his beverage, (typically a bar).

Fear: Losing control during a heightened state and hurting someone he cares about, (this has happened on more than one occasion).

Hobbies: Visiting a gun range, visiting a winery/whiskey distillery, visiting secret bars, underground fight rings.

Skills/Talents: Can cook a variety of meals from most nationalities. Takes various types of poisons regularly to quickly and easily identify them. He is fluent in thirteen languages: English, Spanish, French, Russian, German, Arabic, Chinese (Mandarin and Cantonese), Japanese, Afrikaans, Swahili, Farsi, Korean, and Italian.

Weaknesses: Arcita’s Iron Will.

Reason to keep on living: He detests humanity on occasions but still swore an oath to protect them by any means necessary.

What their self-image is like: He believes that he is a monster, and that someday all of his past sins will eventually catch up to him. But until that happens, he will try to be as decent of a person as he can while still working for one of the shadiest organizations known to man.

Religious/spiritual faith: Jashinism

How does his faith affect him: It made him an immortal douche bag.

What superstitions does he have?: Needs a cigar and/or cigarette for the end of a mission.

Coping mechanisms: Cooking, shopping, exercising/sex with husband.

Any Life Motto: “We Secure. We Contain. We Protect.” “Praise the Unholy Father.” “Goddammit John, did you take your fucking meds today?”

Favorite things: Fine whiskeys and wines, preferably aged. A one inch grouping from 250+ m away.

Health:

Physical: Flawless

Mental: Medicated

Emotional Stability: Due to a majority of the dirty work that he has had to do for the Foundation over the years, he obviously suffers from PTSD, Anxiety, Depression, and Panic Attacks. (He and his husband Arcita share a bit of the same mental illnesses). He is medicated however and makes sure to be on schedule for taking his meds properly, knowing how bad things could possibly get if he were to slip up.

If faced with a crisis, he immediately fights.

Nutrition: He tries to eat as healthily as possible to ensure that he will have the longest amount of time possible in a heightened state.

Habits: Drinking socially, smoking occasionally.

Family History: (We’re not going to talk about this, mainly because this a muse that has gone through multiple rewrites and I haven’t gotten this far yet)

Background:

0-4: N/A

5-8: N/A

9-11: N/A

12-14: N/A

14-25: N/A

25-Death: N/A

Death-Reincarnation:

Post Reincarnation: Was captured by a Foundation retrieval team. Was able to use a silver tongue and convince them to employ him.

Did he like his upbringing: Yes, he simply regrets how he left things.

How did his upbringing shape him?: Taught him the consequences of making the blatantly wrong choices, hence why he willingly went with the Foundation to work for them. It also gave him a pretty thick skin to face the scrutiny and lack of trust he faced from his colleagues in the beginning of his career.

What did he enjoy most about his childhood: His loving parents.

What did he hate most about his childhood: everything else.

Current Dream: Mold young minds and keep humanity safe.

Long-term goal: To be left the fuck alone until the apocalypse.

Family Background:

Any Friends: Benjamin Miller (Deceased), Dr. Claire Porter(?), Koryn Wong (Deceased), Dir. Alexi Harkov, Ethics Committee Representatives Greene and Harrison, Toshinori Yagi, Shota Aizawa, Grisha Neloth.

Any Family: Husband; Arcita. Son; Novuck. Daughter: Madeline.

Relationships:

OC Family Character: Arcita Porter

·         Status: Married (Husband)

·         How well do they get along?

o   Terrifically now. Although in the beginning the two of them were constantly trying to kill each other. This however slowly devolved into a flourishing kismesitude before mutual suffering brought out more positive feelings towards one another. The result of which was a longer and more sustainable relationship that eventually led to matrimony.

·         What John thinks of Arcita: “He is the man that I would trade my immortality in for and die for again and again and again.”

·         What Arcita thinks of him: “I initially saw him as a challenge. Something I could fight and dominate. These days that attitude still hasn’t changed but the context definitely has.”

·         What John calls Arcita: Papa Lion

·         What Arcita calls John: My Prince

OC Family Character: Madeline Porter

·         Status: Single

·         How well do they get along

o   Madeline hated her father at first because he left her at the hands of the adoption agencies of the US. However, upon discovering why he did this, as she herself is now an employee of the SCP Foundation, she fully understands and no longer resents him. A bonding moment happened when the two of them realized that she shared his anomalous abilities. She now enjoys any time that the two of them can have to hang out together in a secret bar and exchange war stories. She finds these to be therapeutic at times as she utilizes the fact that her father is a wealth of knowledge.

·         What John thinks of Madeline: “She and her brother are my entire world.”

·         What Madeline thinks of him: “I used to hate him, but now I can’t see any reality where he’s not there to help me through my deepest moments of suffering. Nor could I live in a world where he would not be able to walk me down the isle one day. He may not have been there in the beginning, but he has more than made up for that now.”

·         What John calls Madeline: Maddie

·         What Madeline calls John: Dad (what else would she call him?)

OC Family Character: Novuck Porter

·         Status: Single

·         How well do they get along?

o   Novuck and John are loving and endearing to one another, and there is nothing Novuck wouldn’t do for his father and vice versa. That being said, Novuck and John do not get along nearly as well compared to Novuck and Arcita. Interspecies differences aside, Novuck and Arcita simply have a better relationship, as both John and Madeline have a better relationship. Nothing to do with bad parenting.

·         What John thinks of Novuck: “He and his sister are my entire world.”

·         What Novuck thinks of John: “I’m really happy that someone as tough as he is, is one of the two best dads a grub could ever ask for. Considering the circumstances of how he found me, things could have turned out much worse. I’m very happy to have him as a father.”

·         What John calls Novuck: Yard rat. (there’s a story behind this).

·         What Novuck calls John: Dad Lusus / Father Lusus.

Canon Character: Toshinori Yagi

·         Status: Single

·         How well do they get along?

o   Due to the Foundation’s availability of amnestics, the two get along very well.

·         What John thinks of All Might: “All Might was the difference the world needed but I remain reserved to the fact that the peace he’s created is not remotely sustainable.”

·         What Toshinori thinks of John: He is a good friend and a fearsome warrior, but he is also a man who understands where the battlefield ends and where civilized life begins.

·         What John calls Toshinori: Brother

·         What Toshinori calls John: My friend, John (any variations of his name).

Canon Character: Shota Aizawa

·         Status: Single (tho John occasionally tries to set him up with Mic).

·         How well do they get along?

o   They have a steady working relationship, but they do not typically socialize on a personal level.

·         What John thinks of Aizawa: “Aizawa is what I would call a more effective hero. The press constantly gets in the way and has a tendency to butcher whatever they can only make out in front of their faces. They never see the bigger picture and it is foolish to pander to their desires. It is for this reason that the shadows are the place where a hero can truly shine.”

·         What Aizawa thinks of John: “He is a crazy man that should not be allowed to have a firearm.”

·         What John calls Aizawa: Sleepy Kakashi, Broody Spiderman, Sir Sleepsalot.

·         What Aizawa calls John: Crazy bastard, loose cannon, overtly covert.

Canon Character: Enji Todoroki

·         Status: Married (?)

·         How well do they get along?

o   They don’t. John has to ensure that he is not in the same room as this man, else an accidental misfire could occur. To him, Endeavor represents everything that is wrong with the hero system. He would not willingly pull the trigger on the man in front of a room full of witnesses, but if orders came in from his respective Foundation handlers saying that Endeavor needed to go, he certainly wouldn’t hesitate to follow through.

·         What John thinks of Endeavor: “I think he’s a cunt.”

·         What Endeavor thinks of John: “Who is John Porter?”

·         What John calls Endeavor: Fucknut, cuntbag, dipshit, fuck knuckle.

·         What Endeavor calls John: Immortal Douchebag.

[x-dudes]

Can you do a Poe x reader where the reader is a sarcastic mechanic. She and Poe constantly argue like they hate each other but in reality it’s like they’re flirting unknowingly. While arguing, Poe interrupts her by kissing her? If that makes sense

Notes: Totally does!! I gotchu. Also, from the moment I started writing this Han and Leia parallels (without all the toxic tendencies in their relationship) just grabbed at me and I almost couldn’t resist. hope you like it!!! It’s kind of long so you can find it under the cut for convenience sake.

Published: December 28th, 2017

Warnings: Some spoilers for The Last Jedi? Nothing too major. I’d say it kind of spoils the opening scene but it was put under a read more link regardless.

-

The sweltering heat of the main ship’s gas system almost overcame you, causing heavy beads of sweat to drip from the skin of your face, neck, and back as you worked vigorously on your repairs. A little BB unit sat propped up on your workbench, with it’s center panel opened as you examined the mainframe. Moments earlier he had gone through major electrical damage, evident still in the singed appearance of the orange paint and the heat the droid still radiated hours later, and you were assessing the damage from within, hoping silently it wouldn’t be anything that couldn’t be repaired with what you had available.

“How’s he looking?” A voice called, breaking you from your concentration. You flinched slightly, causing your hand to press against the heated metal of the droid’s outer shell and obtain an oblong burn across your forearm. Though recognizing the voice in question, you refused to let yourself appear anything less than snide and disdainful as you finally lifted your head up to lock eyes.

“Don’t talk to me.” You answered, turning your chair back to the little droid and placing your electric wedge between two magnetic plates along the damaged perimeter of his body.

“(Y/N),-”

“Poe, I’m working, and unlike your job, mine consists of serious concentration and deliberate thought.” You scorned, sending an electric shock through the metallic plates of the wedge and effectively rebooting the droid’s motion system.

“Woah, woah, woah, be careful with my droid.” He chuckled.

“His gyrosystem was in permanent motion lock. Y’know that thing that allows him to even move in the first place? Although, I think it might do him some good to do something other than follow you blindly. So did you want a frozen droid? ‘Cause I can always take out one of his chips if tha-

“I think I get it.”

“No, Poe, I don’t think you do get it.” You snapped. “BB-8 almost died out there- I don’t know if you believe that droids can die like that, I know it’s kind of a ‘controversial’ topic.” You placed air quotes around the word controversial. “But I do. I believe that there’s some other part to them that we can’t build or program. You see it in BB-8, don’t you? He sees it in himself. I know he does.- He’s in here kind of frequently you know?” Of course, it couldn’t be some sort of talk with (Y/N) without a snarky comment or sarcastic remark. “And he risked it all, knowing that this could mean everything, to help you be a careless idiot, because he trusts you. He did it because he loves you.” For once, Poe stood before you completely wordless. Any thoughts of what he could say all died down in his throat before they had the chance to surface. The thick silence was cut with the sounds of happy whirring and chirping as the familiar little droid powered back up. Poe only watched as (Y/N) screwed his plate back into place and gave everything a good shake to test for durability. BB let out a series of low whistles, causing you to laugh as you met the droid’s gaze.

“Sorry, sorry. Hey, Beebee, how ya’ feeling?” He whirred in response. “I can imagine…” You replied as you cleaned the sweat and oil from her palms. You stood up to stroke his side, and Poe watched carefully as the little droid leaned into your touch, hearing your words from just moments earlier play on loop in his head. “Well, I think you’re very brave.”

“Oh, but I’m careless?” Poe gloated, nudging your shoulder with his fingers as he pulled closer to your workbench.

“I think you’re certainly something.” You taunted.

“What kind of something?”

“Well, the last time I was as mean to you as I’d like to be, General Organa called me into her quarters to scold me.” You teased in return, a faint smile playing at the corners of your lips just faint enough for BB-8 alone to notice. “…to say the least.”

“Wait, her quarters?”

“Yeah, and I was still really young and real new to the Resistance mech team, too, so I was convinced that I was going to walk out of there wearing my ass as a hat or something because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.” You chuckled.

“Oh, man, I don’t even remember what happened that day. What did you do?”

“I think that was one of many times I would threaten to beat you senseless if you didn’t start taking better care of BB-8.” You quipped. “Poor fella…”

“So what’d she do to you? You know, (Y/N), I think ass hats are going to be the next big fashion trend of the decade.” He taunted, scooting closer to your seat on the workbench. You replied with a tempting ‘hmm?’ which he couldn’t help but smirk at. “Yeah, because you are one.”

“Fuck off, Poe.” You replied, shoving him roughly from his seat with a visible smirk. “Getoutta here, your atrocious face and horrendous personality make my working conditions just about unbearable.”

“And we were getting along so well…” He mocked, wiping an imaginary tear as he lifted BB-8 from the table and placed him on the laminate flooring of the ship.

“Uh uh uh, what do you think you’re doing with h-”

“I’m taking him home? As he is mine and I think I have the right to do so?”

“And what makes you so sure he’s all fixed up? That one flight repair won’t turn him into scrap metal and spare parts?” You countered. He stood silent. “Yeah, thought so.” You crouched to speak one-on-one with BB, hearing him whir conflictedly. “Hey, I never said you couldn’t go. Just go easy on yourself, alright? And check up with me at least once every couple of days until I say otherwise, you got that?” The droid rolled his head to signal he understood. “That means no being reckless for you, either. Promise?” BB-8 extended one of his thin metal arms from his chest in a sort of pinky-promise. Your little finger wrapped around the arm with a grin as you stood up to face Poe once again. “If he ends up back in here, I’ll have you wearing your ass as a hat. Are we clear?”

“I’m sorry, princess.” He sneered, one eyebrow raised in his signature Poe Dameron fashion that you’ve grown to resent. “But I think I can handle him.”

“You fucking better…” You called, though he and the little droid were already stepping away.

BB-8 chirped his concerns through the speaker, trying to keep his voice low until they turned the corner. It came out as more of a question than anything else, though it still made Poe chuckle in disbelief.

“Like her?” He repeated. “Yeah, I guess she’s alright…”

“I told you, I told you if he found himself in there one more time, Poe, I wouldn’t fucki-”

“Yeah, I’m aware, princess, what did you expect me to do? I needed him. We can’t all sit along the edge of the battlefield doing-”

“Call me princess one more time see if I don’t smack you into next year.” You threatened, feeling him grow closer with each insult spewed at each other. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t report to the General that you’re unfit to hold a droid and that BB-8 should essentially be repossessed.” You prompted. He turned his head in serious thought, making you realize only now that you could feel his warm breath fan out against your cheeks.

“Shit- (Y/N), you can’t be seriou-”

“I’m absolutely serious. You and Organa are already kind of on thin ice here, Poe, and for good reason, too. It wouldn’t be very hard at all to report the instances in which-”

“Well then why haven’t ya’, (Y/N)?! Huh?!” Poe snapped slamming his fist on to your workbench with such force, and at such a close proximity that it was second nature to jump.

“Poe,” You began, evening your voice out so were no longer shouting. Fighting wasn’t your goal, you reminded yourself. 

“With such an active effort to call me out on every mistake I make with ‘im, why haven’t you just turned me in already?”

“Poe, I-”

“No, I don’t want anymore bullshit from you, (Y/N)! I wan-”

“Because I didn’t report them, Poe! I DIDN’T REPORT ANY OF BB’S PREVIOUS DAMAGES BECAUSE I KNEW IT WOULD GET YOU INTO A LOAD OF SHIT YOU DIDN’T NEED TO BE IN, EVEN THOUGH IT WAS AGAINST VERY STRICT RESISTANCE CODE THAT I DID, ESPECIALLY WHEN SAID DROID HAS HELD INFORMATION CRITICAL TO THE ENTIRE WELLBEING OF THE RESISTANCE. ALL BECAUSE I WAS TRYING TO KEEP YOU OFF THE BENCH AND AWAY FROM THE SHITTY SIDELINES AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE, BECAUSE WITH HOW OFTEN BB-8 IS IN HERE I ACTUALLY KIND OF BEGAN TO BELIEVE IN YOU. A LONG TIME AGO, ACTUALLY. BEFORE FLEEING D’QAR, BEFORE THE BLACK SQUADRON, MAYBE EVEN BEFORE YOU BECAME ‘THE POE DAMERON’ POSTERCHILD PILOT OF THE RESISTANCE WHO EVERYONE BUT LEIA’S AFRAID TO CALL OUT, BECAUSE THEY THINK HE CAN DO NO WRONG.” You stopped to catch your breath in short pants, realizing you had moved yourself even closer as you screamed at him. You spoke again, voice now gravelly and soft from misuse, yet still just strong enough to speak your peace. “God, you’re such an idiot. Although I guess this is partially my fault, because I didn’t realize at the time that you were actually kind of a prick- stop that.”

“Stop what?” Poe replied, stepping closer with his signature eyebrow raised in a taunting look. Although this time it was different, and you couldn’t place why.

“Looking at me like that.” You answered.

“Looking at you like what, princess?”

“Stop calling me that.” You stated softly.

“What, Princess?” You nod bitterly. “Weren’t you a princess?” He recalls, thinking back briefly to a conversation he overheard between yourself and Leia.

“Not exactly. Though this is something you would know if you bothered to pay mind to anybody but yourself f-” Your snide remarks died on your lips as Poe feverishly closed the distance, pressing his own to yours. He pulled away, a smug look marking his features. “What? Do you think that just kissing a woman solves all of your problems? You questioned, sneering angrily, yet placing your hands over his chest and keeping him in place by the lapels of his jacket.

“Not exactly. But the years worth of backed up sexual and romantic tension? That’s another story.” You rolled your eyes in a dramatic display, pushing him away from you with a soft thud. He furrowed his brow, unsure of whether to follow as you walked away.

“My shift ends at seven.” You explained, turning back to meet his confused gaze a few feet behind you with a taunting smile. “You want to wait up for me? We can finish this afterwards.”

[seven-winter-trees]

someone mentioned that dried mango was nice if you felt like gnawing on something. in lieu of flesh and bone, i would gladly take some fucking mango if we had any it would do something to alleviate the desire to rip my teeth into someone and grind their bones to dust and then fling it away from me.

so many here filled to bursting with love for something, someone, for people in general, for animals, for things -- they love like burning someone said once, and it’s true. it doesn’t stop. 

and i, too, have loved. and i love my brother, still, and i love his child, who became mine i suppose when he was gone. 

they are often afraid to be angry. to feel angry. the idea of feeling rage terrifies them. as does hatred. 

i began that way. in rage and hatred. learned love, later, but my love has teeth. learned gentleness, but forever feel like a predator trying to hold a tiny prey animal in its claws without harming it, which is not far from the truth. gentleness, i save for his daughter. who, at least, is not so fragile that i feel like i am holding a tiny prey animal. She is half him and therefore... some amount of me. my brother and i were twins. both of us half of each other and half something else. 

(it is, therefore, not at all wrong to say that without my brother, i have lost half of myself.)

we used to fight, incessantly, about me and about what i am and about what i do, which is consume, and take, and i’m rarely kind about it.

i am, sometimes. there is a world i often go to, that is much like this one. in whatever ways it differs, i haven’t noticed it. they have the same problems, the same medical issues, the same stupid laws. and i have made of myself an angel of death, for the people who have terminal illnesses but the laws will not allow them to choose to be done with it on their own terms. for them, i am gentle in a different way than the gentle i learned for other things. we talk about it. 

nothing i do needs to hurt. it can be pleasurable, or blissful, or comforting, or any other emotion i want it to be. so i ask them what they want to feel, and if they have any memories they particularly want to remember at the time, because even if their minds are torn apart with drugs and diseases, i can find those memories for them, in full. in colour. in as-if-it-is-happening-again and they cannot possibly tell the difference, because that is what i do. 

there was a man who wanted to remember one of his children playing baseball. the child, who was a boy, never thought he was very good at anything, but his father went to his games, and encouraged him. the boy was always very nervous and would make mistakes due to them that he wouldn’t make playing alone with his father. but one day, despite his trembling hands, the boy hit a home run. his father stood up cheering, screaming, so full of joy and pride and happiness that he thought he would burst and he cried, even. he wanted to remember that game, and that moment, and the moment when his son looked back at him as if he wasn’t sure what had happened and his father was gesturing at him to run, go run, you’ve done it, run around the bases, and the look on his son’s face when he got back to the home plate with pride on his face and grinning. 

i took him away after that, as the game drifted back into other things and his son was out of view.

there are a lot of stories. i listen to them talk as long as they want to talk. a shattered voice box or a tube down their throat means nothing to me; i listen to them inside their heads. i have nowhere to be. my brother’s daughter is safe and loved by the people i leave her with (she is very good friends with their son, as well), for however long i am gone. some of them have had no one listen to them in a long time. even if they are perfectly capable of lucid verbal speech. 

so i listen. i know what silence feels like. what absence feels like. what losing my brother felt like. i know. and i listen.

we talk very carefully about choice and choices, and all of the other things. for these people, i want to make sure i get it exactly right. 

i did not start doing this until after my brother was dead. when he was alive, he’d given me a set of rules, of what he could tolerate me doing, and i chafed at them and they annoyed me, but he was only (only) half of me and not enough to understand most of the time why this felt like a choke chain. 

his death was horrible, slow, awful, excruciating. i knew enough about things here to think about people who have cancer, and how most places don’t let them make it stop when they can’t deal with it any longer. he would have have liked it, this thing that i do.

i only take away the act of living from those people. i leave everything else, because it belongs to their soul, and someone or something will come for it. 

nothing about it feeds me, as such. i wouldn’t want it to; they’ve been through enough and so much of it has involved so little dignity and choice. there is nothing dignified about being eaten. 

some people do like the idea of their bodies feeding things. bacteria, things in the soil, insects, etc. you can plant trees over the body of someone--the others here sometimes thinks about arranging for that for this body after whatever is usable has been taken from it. but the person or people in that body are not around for that and that is decay. decay is its own process. it isn’t what i do. 

they could feed me, but honestly, at the point they’re at when i meet them, they’re a faint whisper of a person. you’d think a slight breeze would separate their soul from their battered flesh but somehow it’s stuck to it like there’s a prison encasing them both. inside their hearts, inside their minds, sometimes there is a lot of self and plenty of other things, passion, emotion, feeling, more sensation than they’d like, all sorts of things that i normally would eat, but... i don’t want to. 

wherever their soul is supposed to go, it isn’t in me. i want them to go home, whatever that means for them. or go to, if they’re meant to have another life. or just... go. go forth. go outward. get beyond the confines of the planet and its gravity and its planes and three dimensional space and go. see what you can find, what you can be, what you can do, without a broken body pinning you to a bed.

i don’t need to kill to eat. lust is food. pain is food, and pain can be agreed upon beforehand. i’ve gotten--gods, have i gotten--used to negotiating what someone does and doesn’t want. though i like the frenzy when it’s someone who’s rather hard to kill and i don’t need to think about it as much. i miss that. that lust-fight-blood frenzy that i used to have. i needed to think about it, but not as much as, say, with an ordinary human. they’re... as threatening as a leaf of lettuce and less than as durable.

i’m trying to sort out a solution to this because i have been starving for most of the past seven years. and it’s been dreadful for me, in whatever meaning “physically” has for someone like me. i could explain. enough people here have enough of a scientific bent that insofar as humans on earth understand things, they understand what has been happening to me. they even wrote a section of an article about it for a science website. but that’s tedious.

between my brother’s chain of restrictions and growing very accustomed to starving and dealing with these wisps of near-death-but-not-dying people as most of what i do when i am away from the child, i’ve forgotten myself, somewhat. i’ve forgotten what it feels like to not be choked by grief in addition to a chain. i’ve forgotten what it feels like to lose myself in the hunt. i’ve forgotten the fucking and the fighting and doing it all again and again and again.

i’ve forgotten so much that i think i must seem like one of those very depressing predators who’ve been in a small cage for so long that they’ve lost all concept of wild except as a distant memory. something that haunts the edges of your dreams and hurts you when you wake up to see the too-familiar human hell you’re caught in.

i need to remember, and i’ve discovered that in the process of trying to remember, i apparently need a lot of reassurance, and that galls me. 

yes, it’s all right.

yes, you can do this.

yes, you can fight that.

yes, you can fuck that.

yes, you can eat that.

yes, you can kill that.

yes, you can exist as you’re meant to.

yes.

yes.

yes.

i hate this.

one of our friends told me earlier, when i said i felt like biting someone after waking up from a dream that made me angry, that i should find someone to bite. i should. it would be better than walking tiny circles in my tiny cage and hurting myself.

yet i wonder: how much permission, how many times, of how many people am i going to have to ask before i can let myself just bite someone again?