#Dragon of Earth || Clay

[multiandmany]

Kimiko the Kitsune and Clay the Centaur

More details tomorrow I is Chillin'

[foolsome-phantom]

Clay wings of fire as a Little Pony! His cutie mark is representative of his care for his family!

[handweavers]

whenever i find a cool story or character or whatever my immediate thought is "ok but what if this was in tropical asia and everyone was southeast asian"

[fangirlingpuggle]

Another very silly XS AU/fic prompt where the next level the Monks have to ascend to they need more control over their elements. Then Chase shows up at the temple and says he's going to be training Omi after all he's the most qualified.

The monks are of course confused (And Omi's case trying very hard to get exited) like WTF your heylin prince of darkness why would ever let you train Omi. Cue Chase giving them blank look and then very clearly controlling the fountain of water.

The monks jaws are on the floor (Omi has actual stars in his eyes) and Chase just realizes an eyebrow like 'Did no one tell you who the previous dragons were?' and then gives Dojo a pointed look.

Cue Rai, Kimiko and Clay descending on Dojo as they now have so many questions.

Master Fung can't deny that technically at this stage of their growth the monks can/ have previously been taught by previous dragons of their element so technically Chase can train Omi... he wants to say no but Omi now he's given permission to actual train with Chase is literally running in circles squealing with joy. (Master Fung thinks that they really should have revised the rules to say they can't be trained by them if said previous dragon is now on the heylin side)

Of course the other monks get the full story on who the previous Dragons of their element were which leads to Kimiko trying to track down Guan for training. Raimundo trying to get more stories about Dashi or find out more about him/ ask Dojo about how Dashi trained or if there are any talk to the dead Wu?

That leaves Clay, who ends up showing at Jack's lab awkwardly asking to talk to Wuya (She left Chase's palace because it's just him and Omi all the time now and she was getting a migraine listening to them calling out fighting moves or their weird mind game). Jack is very confused and even more so when he finds out she was the past dragon of earth. Wuya is just staring at them like 'My servants are giant stone golems... I wasn't exactly subtle' .

She refuses to help Clay, but Jack decides to help because 1)he wants to know how xaiolin magic works if he can reverse engineer it 2) Clay will him a favor and 3) It's gonna annoy/he can mess with Wuya. So Jack mind games/reverse psychologys her in rambling about her powers/the past.

Clay and Jack are just there mostly eating popcorn listening about earth powers and getting way to emotionally invested in her stories about her and Dashi (Wuya doesn't realize she's telling a tragic romance story but Jack and Clay do and they are invested)

Dojo and Rai come to pick Clay up walk into the lab to see Clay and Jack sobbing and Wuya just talking mostly to herself about something , Dojo and Rai exchange a look and slowly back away they don't want to know.

Eventually Wuya starts showing techniques and teaching Clay and Jack mostly because she sees Clay try and 'no that's not how toy do it idiot just watch'

(Wuya doesn't realize she's technically training 2 xiaolin dragons earth and metal are very close)

Jack does use his favor next showdown he gets the Wu is challenged by one of the other monks and Jack just goes 'Oh this showdowns going to 2 v 2' and asks Clay to help him, this ends up happening a lot mostly because once they do this Chase realize he can do this with Omi and suddenly Chase is going for all the Wu as a chance for him and Omi to fight together.

Clay and Jack actually fight really well together and have bonded a lot, Wuya it just watching these 2 slowly go into full crush mode over each other and eating her own popcorn.

[muses-of-the-memory]

Happy 21st Anniversary to Xiaolin Showdown

Today is the 21st anniversary of one of our childhood Cartoon Network shows,

Xiaolin Showdown!

It had been 21 years since we had seen our four Xiaolin Warriors,

Omi,

Raimundo Pedrosa,

Kimiko Tohomiko,

and Clay Bailey together fighting the forces of evil,

such as "evil genius", Jack Spicer,

Wuya, and so many more villains all to reclaim the Shen Gong Wu!

So today, I will be adding the four heroes of the show into my muse list.

Tagged by: @themultiverseheroines, @hoshi-neko-hikari, @bluemajingirl, @the-world-hopper, @spirits-of-nature16

[negativepeanuthoarder]

I rewatched some videos I really really loved back when they came out about 4ish years ago - and they made me REALLY sad and nostalgic wtf 😭 am I nostalgic for the lockdown somehow??? The house I lived in back then??? Being a teenagers again??? Dream just starting to blow up and the beginning of the dsmp??? Huh???

[whereserpentswalk]

Reblog so that the creature will come to you. Like to enhance their power.

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

This fandom is actually so horrible when it comes to the multiple abuse victims in the series, because most of them are viscerally hated by the fandom for really stupid shit.

Winter is constantly labeled as a toxic abuser and like. I can understand not liking how he treated Moon, or any of the jade winglet in early arc 2 for that matter. What I do not understand is people ignoring that he is actively bettering himself just so they can keep hating him, or even just ignoring why he's like that to begin with. He's not mean because he likes being a jackass, he's mean because he's been taught that showing any care for other dragons, ESPECIALLY dragons of other tribes, is considered weak. It's something he has been trying to fix, but people would rather just keep calling him an abuser than acknowledge he is changing

Peril gets called an insane psychopath who doesn't deserve love which, first of all that's GOTTA be some form of ableism. Second of all, no fucking shit she is the way she is, the dragon who raised her manipulated her to believe she's a monster who will never be loved by other dragons. No fucking shit she got attached to the one dragon her age that showed her kindness, she thought that wasn't possible!! Also another case of the fandom chooses to ignore her healing just so they have a reason to keep hating her. "She's toxic and obsessed with Clay!!" It literally says in the god damn book she's so used to having a dragon to control her, and she is actively trying to stamp that habit out, why do we keep ignoring this

Boa is by far the worst victim of this because the fandom treats like scum of the earth not because of who she is, but because of one fucking decision she made. A decision she made in a state of panic. A decision she made because fuck, why SHOULD dragons have such power that can be used for evil so easily? Boa's entire EXISTENCE is an example of a dragon misusing their magic, why are we surprised she thinks the world is better off without it? She's not a bitch who thinks she knows better than everyone else, she's a terrified abuse victim who genuinely believed animus magic would bring the destruction of dragonkind. And look. I get the decision to remove animus magic was a stupid one. But can we please just acknowledge Tui was the one who made that stupid decision instead of pretending Boa is this awful person and the worst character in the series. Because she isn't. She's not an asshole. She's not a bitch. She made one bad decision and the fandom acts like she's satan incarnate

Im sure there may be more examples, these are just the biggest that come to mind

.

[electronickingdomfox]

The Kobayashi Alternative (or the 1000 deaths of James T. Kirk)

Finished this game (a text adventure) recently, and oh God, what a glorious mess it was!

The frame story (which only appears in the manual, by the way) places you as a Starfleet Academy cadet, playing a simulation of one of Kirk's famous missions, as a sort of alternative to the infamous Kobayashi Maru test (hence the title). But the actual game revolves around Kirk's mission, trying to find Sulu, who has disappeared in the Trianguli sector. And you're given complete freedom to explore the area and planets in whatever order you choose, and to mess the game in whatever way you want.

And that's my main point of interest here. I've witnessed so, SO many deaths for poor Kirk, because of my ill-advised decisions... Falling into craters, being run over by lava from a (not-so-extinct) volcano, sinking in quicksand, being eaten by a dragon, falling into a moat (and then being eaten), beaming down to a planet with a temperature of -250° in just my uniform (because why not?), or the more gruesome version of beaming down to a no-atmosphere planet without a spacesuit. It's also possible to return to Earth without finishing the mission, just like that, which gets you court-martialed. Or beam down some unsuspecting redshirt to a dangerous area, and to his unavoidable death (which here causes a Game-Over, very much unlike the series). Want to swear at someone until the crew arrests you for bad conduct? Check. *For the record, these are the swear words I found to work: bitch, bastard, suck, c*ck, f*ck, ass (use them in any combination you see fit). There's also many crazy things to do, which don't necessarily lead to a game over. Leave poor Scotty stranded on a planet and depart without him (good luck when you need something from Engineering). Or make Spock mindmeld with clay. Or tell McCoy to enter Spock's quarters, and just leave him there for the rest of the game. There's a planet with aliens that are offended by clothes and will put you in jail for wearing them (well, this is inaccurate, because James Tits-Out Kirk would definitely beam down naked, if it would help the mission... and make sure to video-call Spock right before doing so).

Anyway, despite being a primitive game from 1985, I'm impressed by the sheer amount of possibilities and open-ended options in this game. The graphic adventures from the 90's (25th Anniversary, and specially Judgement Rites) are much, much better games overall. But I wanted to talk a bit about these, more obscure text adventures.

If anyone's interested in playing them, I've found the best way is through this custom installer here, which includes all three adventures: https://collectionchamber.blogspot.com/p/star-trek-first-contact.html It automatically runs the games through an emulator for modern systems, and has the last version of Kobayashi Alternative (which is very important, since previous versions were buggy as hell). First Contact uses the same engine of Kobayashi, but since it's a much linear and smaller game, it's obvious a lot of options go un-used. The Promethean Prophecy is a more traditional text adventure. It has some ingenious puzzles, but I found its typical plot of "go there and collect gems" less Trek-like.

[viking-raider]

A Witcher's Soul

Summary: When tragedy strikes, Geralt of Rivia seeks comfort in the arms of one woman.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning: PG - Abandonment Issues, Child Abandonment, Fluff Parental Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Memories, Bathing, Love Confession, Soft!Geralt, Character's Death

Inspiration: This scene from Season Three of the Witcher! 😭

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!

Geralt rode Roach hard, only deviating from his path to guide the powerful black horse around a tree or rock. He gripped the worn brown reins tightly, feeling them cut into the top of his bare hands as he urged Roach to move faster, foam already starting to gather around his bit. The Witcher's mind raced, desperately trying to push down the power of the news he received from a good friend, while trying to help someone he'd found on the job. He struggled for a few days, trying to push it down, telling himself it didn't hurt.

She had left him almost a century ago, at this point.

Witchers had no emotions, he told himself, as a means to drive them back. It didn't work however, the emotions continued to smash into him.

So, he left in the dead of night, not a word to Anika, Otto, or even Jaskier, of where he was going or why. Though, he was sure Anika would know why. Geralt covered almost a whole league by the end of morning, cutting through the forest outside of Murivel, until he reached a modest clearing and an even more modest, three-room hut constructed in the middle of it, a stone and clay well on the left side, the bucket swaying softly in the breeze.

Roach came to a hard stop, hooves cutting deep grooves in the grassy earth, with Geralt wasting no time in dismounting the stallion and stomping across the yard to the front door. His sore and broken heart rose up with hope that it would swing open and the face of the one he was seeking would appear, to greet him. But, the door didn't open to him, instead he was greeted another way.

“Geralt!” A soft and confused voice called out.

He swung around on his boot heels, his golden eyes zeroing in on you as you stood just passed the tree-line, a basket of herbs and mushrooms balanced on your hip, as you regarded the Witcher. You hadn't seen Geralt in over a year, since he decided he needed to go to Cintra to make sure Ciri was safe from the sea of black and gold he'd seen on the Amell Pass. After the Dragon Hunt. You had heard the thunder of the new Roach's hooves coming up the path to your home, while you were gathering in the forest, and came to see who it was. You were surprised to see Geralt in general, but you were worried by how rushed he seemed.

“Geralt, what's amiss?” You asked, coming to close the gap between you. “Are you well?” You inquired, seeing the unusually deep crease between his brow and across his forehead, and how his complexion was paler, almost matching his hair.

Geralt took a deep breath through his nose, lips pressed together for a moment, working up the strength to speak. “I need you.” He finally rasped, his expression breaking into something soft and vulnerable.

“You rode all the way from wherever, just for time with me?” You smirked, tisking.

“Please.” Geralt replied, reaching out to grasp your free hand and squeezing it, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, his expression breaking even more.

You frowned at him, all jest dying inside of you, seeing his wall fall before you and the pain he was being crushed underneath. “Let's go inside.” You whispered softly, tilting your head towards your door.

Nodding, Geralt reached out for your basket, but shaking your head and swatting it away gently, you pushed the front door open and put your hand on his arm, guiding him inside. You set your basket on a large table and turned towards the just as large fireplace, grabbing wood from the dog grate and tossed it in. Building it back up, sparks flying up the chimney. You moved to Geralt, who stood motionless beside the table, taking his hand and guided him over to the chair at the head of the table, gently coaxing him to sit down, then knelt before him. Grabbing the heel of his boot and his calf, you tugged the muddy, black leather off and set it underneath the table, followed by its twin. There was dust and mud covering his black clothing. You brushed your palm over his knee and thigh, casting some of it off, before standing up again and starting for the next room, only to have Geralt grasp your wrist and pull you into his lap. His arms wrapped around your shoulders as he buried his face into your chest, and breathed deep.

You frowned at him, sympathetically brushing your fingers through his hair and pulling it free of its usual tie, his white strands cascading over his shoulders. You nosed the top of his head, caressing the back of his hair and squeezing his bicep, still confused as to why he was there and what was ailing him so much.

“Geralt.” You whispered into his strands. “Tell me, what's happened?” You asked, your fingertips brushing the back of his neck. “Did you not make it to Ciri in time? Has something happened to her or Jaskier?” You inquired, licking your lips as your heart thundered against his forehead. “I noticed that isn't the Roach you had the last time you were here.” You pointed out, remembering the sweet Chestnut you used to feed and brush, when Geralt stayed with you, but now there was a sturdy black stallion standing in your dooryard.

He shook his head and cleared his throat. “No, they're both fine.” He rasped, turning his head to rest his temple against your collarbone. “As for the last Roach, she was killed by a Chernobog, a few months ago.” He added, softly.

“Oh, I'm so sorry.” You cooed, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Then, what's the matter with my Wolf?”

He was still and quiet again, for a long time, his fingers restlessly toying with the strings at the back of your bodice, before suddenly standing with you still in his arms, and turning to sit you on the chair in his place. He went out the door, rounding the house to the well and dropped the bucket to the bottom. You watched Geralt come back inside with each bucket, holding it in one hand, like it was the weight of one of his swords. Pausing in the open doorway and giving you a hard stare every time, as if he expected to find you moved off the chair or vanished completely. Only then, did he go to your large cauldron, dumping the full bucket in and returning back outside for another.

“Are you going to tell me, what's the matter, Geralt?” You asked, your concern only mounting with his bizarre behavior and irregular moodiness.

“Nothing.” He grunted harshly, setting the cauldron over the fire to boil.

“That's a lie.” You answered, just as sharply, being one of the few people on the Continent brave enough to talk back to the White Wolf in such a manner; other than Jaskier and Ciri. “You wouldn't have come from the bum fuck of Nilfgaard to see me, if something wasn't bothering you.” You insisted, glaring at his back.

Geralt ignored you, heading towards the back rooms of your home and leaving you more worried and annoyed at his behavior. He came back a few minutes later with no shirt on, and your suspicions on his task were answered. Despite what the people of the great Continent thought of Geralt of Rivia, he did not in fact like smelling of death, blood and horse. When he stopped for the winter at Kaer Morhen or with you, he bathed regularly. He just found it more a nuisance to do so while on the Trail, since the next Contract or sleeping rough would only dirty him up again.

Pulling the roiling cauldron off the fire, Geralt carried it to the large, soaking tub you boosted in your bathroom. He filled it almost to the brim, before adding in Lavender and Sage bath salts to the steaming water. A fragrant haze filled the room as he tugged his pants off and tossed them over a chair in the corner. He strode out of the bathroom, returning to you, still sitting where he'd left you. He took your hand and helped you stand, untying the strings of your bodice and tugging down your dress, so it pooled around your feet, before slipping his arm under your knees and an arm around your shoulders, scooping you up against his chest.

You sighed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck, while he carried you to the bathroom. “I missed you.” You whispered into his ear, as he stepped into the tub, lowering you both into it.

“And I, you.” Geralt replied, holding you in his lap and resting back. “Ciri and Jaskier are well, by the way.” He said, his fingertips stroking the skin of your side, beneath the water. “Ciri is being watched over by Yennefer, who's helping her try and control her magic and Jaskier was with Anika, last I left him.”

“Anika?” You frowned, tilting your head back against his shoulder. “Why is Julian with Anika? If he's well.”

Geralt's thick, scarred arms squeezed around you, almost painfully, making you squirm in his lap. “You remember my mother.” He mumbled, barely audible. “Visenna.” He said so quietly, you had to strain to hear it.

“Yes, I recall you telling me of her, a few years after we met.” You murmured, seeing the strained expression on his face. “And that you'd seen her at Sodden Hill. She healed you, after the ghoul bite.”

“I remember bits of my life with my Ma.” He rasped, his grasp on you loosening, but he still held you close to him. “She smelled like embers, from keeping our measly fires alive during the long nights.” He told you, the crease between his golden eyes slowly vanishing as he went back to that time, tapping into that abandoned little boy, he had never grown out of, but skillfully concealed from those he didn't cherish. “We were quite poor, even though she was skilled as a healer. So, she-” He paused, his voice thickening and his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

You looked up at him, seeing the redness in the whites of his eyes and the unshed tears threatening on his lashes. It frightened you to see the Witcher like this. In the fifteen years you'd known him, you'd seen him in many states, but you had never seen Geralt cry. Reaching up, you cupped his scruffy cheek in your hand and thumbed a droplet away, pressing your lips to his jawline.

“She would use her magic to create the most elaborate meals that we couldn't afford.” He continued, tilting his head into your hand. “There was—I would have done anything to make her smile. And yet,” He voice broke again, this time with more than just hurt and abandonment, but with resentment. “The day she left me, she was sick. She needed some water, so I went to get her some, and when I came back to the road...she was gone.” He croaked, pushing his jaw forward and shaking his head, trying to deny the burn of more tears.

His fingertips pressed into the skin of your side and back. “I called for her.” He said weakly, his golden eyes off in the distance. “But she was gone.” He whimpered, the tears finally winning out, dripping off his jaw and into your hair and the bath water.

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your forehead to his neck and hugging your arms around his torso. You had known Visenna had abandoned Geralt. He had told you that bluntly not long after you had met. The torture of her leaving him there, to be taken away to Kaer Morhen, where he'd suffered such agony in his transformation into a Witcher, at just five years old, coupled with the pain he never got over with his mother.

You wondered how Geralt had survived at all.

But no, Geralt was strong, even from a young age.

“She's dead.”

You pulled out of your thoughts, shocked. “She's dead?”

“She was giving aid to some villager and was mistaken as an Elf.” Geralt told you, bringing a hand out of the water to wipe it over his face. “They beat her severely and she later died, at the Temple of Mourning, where Anika was. Which is how I found out.”

“I'm so sorry, Geralt.” You cooed, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, connecting the dots to his arrival. “I hope the two of you were able to make some sort of easement between you, when you last met.”

Geralt pressed his lips together and buried his face into your hair, his throat too tight to speak in the moment. He considered how he and Visenna last met, in the forest outside of Sodden Hill, as he laid feverish and hallucinating from a Ghoul bite to the leg. After saving a poor Merchant, who was trying to bury the dead from a camp Nilfgaard had attacked. At first, she had tried to conceal her identity from him, pretending to be Renfri, Yennefer and finally, you, before he managed to discover who it really was. Triggered by her belief that, People linked by Destiny, will always find each other.

He asked her what she thought of his eyes. Demanding to know, if she knew what they did to improve a Witcher's eyes. Telling her that it didn't always work. She had begged him to stop. Calling him by his name, only for Geralt to reject her right to do so, like she had rejected him. He had begged to know if she knew how many boys actually made it through the Trials. Tears filled both of their eyes as they stared at each other in the darkness.

In the end, his Ma had left him, again, fading into the night, trying to convince him she was just a dream and he would never get the answer he wanted.

So, had he made peace with his mother abandoning him, forcing him on the Path of the Witcher?

No. Geralt decided in the end, he had not.

The only thing Geralt did know was he wanted you. You were the first person he had thought of, upon finding out about his mother's death. Wanting to feel you against him and needing the comfort only you were able to provide. You shifted out of Geralt's lap, moving around him, while reaching over the side of the tub, grabbing the small cup that sat on the foot board there. Dipping it into the water and gently pouring it over Geralt's silvery-white strands, you set aside and took up a round, solid bar of honey and chamomile scented soap, using it to work his hair into a rich lather. Geralt moaned, feeling your fingers massage his scalp, resting forward to prop his elbows on his bent knees, eyes falling shut.

“I love you.” He murmured, quietly.

You stopped, resting your hands on his broad shoulders. “You've never said that before.” You said, looking around at him, mouth softly agape.

“No?” Geralt rasped, cocking a brow over his shoulder at you.

“Not once, in all these years.” You assured him, your hand gently massaging the scarred muscle of his neck.

He turned to you, causing the cooling water to slosh over the edge. “Then, I have a great deal of making up to do.” He cooed, reaching out to cup your face in his rough palm. “Because I do. I love you. Out of everyone, besides perhaps Jaskier and Vesemir, you know me better than anyone, and no one has ever taken better care of me than you have.” He told you, his face betraying the emotions a Witcher truly had, but guarded for their most treasured person, and not those of an abandoned child, rather those of a man in love.

“I love you too, Geralt.” You assured him, turning your head to kiss his hand. “And I will always care for you, me bleidd.” You whispered, picking up the cup to continue washing his hair.

[thebrisingamen]

Xiaolin Showdown and Journey to the West

not sure if this was intentional but I noticed something upon a rewatch. It’s very clear to me that the main four male leads (Jack, Omi, Clay and Raimundo) are expy’s of the characters in Journey to the West (Sun Wukong, Tang Sanzang, Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing).

Jack Spicer as Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, Great Sage Equal To Heaven

-Jack’s preferred Shen Gong Wu is the Monkey Staff, which parallels Sun Wukong’s own Staff. At one point Jack becomes the leader of a group of Green Monkeys, paralleling the Monkey Kings own title for an episode

-Jack’s secondary most used Shen Gong Wu is the Changing Chopsticks to change his shape, which is another feat the Monkey king is known for

-Mirroring the Transformations in the form of the Chameleon Bot and making Duplicates of himself i the form of Robo-Jack.

-“childlike playfulness and often goofy impulsiveness is in contrast to his cunning mind.” Jack is often dismissed by others, including the Heylin, despite being incredibly disruptive to their plans when they cast him aside. Case in Point; if it wasn’t for Jack’s actions at end of Season 1, they wouldn’t have stopped Wuya. He even had a way to go back in time before the Sands of Time were revealed

-First Episode with Chameleon Bot; he uses it to replace Kimiko, knowing the others will dismiss her on the basis of her being a girl and takes nearly all their Shen Gong Wu while he’s at it

-Episode 12, we already see Jack compiling a spreadsheet to track the Shen Gong Wu that have awakened, and if Wuya hadn’t been so hellbent on the Heart of Jong, this could have had benefit to her. Also Wuya wouldn’t have been able to build Mala Mala Jong WITHOUT Jack having all the necessary Shen Gong Wu in the first place.

-Even when he becomes Good Jack, Jack’s solution in the Ying-Yang World is to split himself in two and use a double to distract the chi beast, which again, if he wasn’t good and hadn’t gone in there in the first place, wouldn’t have restored the Dragons’ Chi

-While he is goofy and clearly cares about his Robots, you’d think Wuya and Chase would realize Jack is an actual threat, but that ties back into the Monkey King story. The ‘Gods’ give him the lowliest position in heaven to ‘keep an eye on him’ and he resents this.

-While a less competent fighter in the show, it does take Omi having to create a time paradox to stop Jack from taking over the world.

Omi as Tang Sanzang

-Omi’s Element is Water, and Tang was found in a River

-While more competent in the show, Omi is also an orphan and shown to be the most devoted of the monks/dragons in training. He is also the one that most believes in redemption, especially for Jack Spicer

-He is also supposed to be the one spreading wisdom and helping his disciples, which he does with a majority of them

Clay as Sha Wujing AKA Sandy

-Clay’s element is earth, tying in with Sha Wujing’s element. -Clay is primarily a more peaceful character who is large, logical and polite, so this can make him a bit less interesting than the other three.

Raimundo as Zhu Bajie AKA Pigsy

-Ladies’ Man/Skirt Chaser; Raimundo is shown several times to be susceptible to attractive women.

-Lazy and often doesn’t want to do work; Raimundo’s main complaint has been the amount of work needed at the temple.

-While helpful, can be selfish—as shown near the end of the first season. He is ultimately good, but often gives in to his own personal desires until he grows as a person.

While I think Metal Dragon AU is fitting for Jack, I'm also accepting the headcanon that he might be a descendant of Sun Wukong lol.

Just a fun little thing I noticed

[multiandmany]

Clay Bailey (Canon)

Fandom: Xiaolin Showdown

Name: Clay Bailey Age: 16 Species: Human Gender: Male Pronouns: He/Him Height: 6'1" Weight: ??? Abilities: Earth Manipulation*, First Aid Skills, Cooking/Baking Skills, High Food Tolerance*, Superhuman Strength, Martial art skills, Seismic Kick Earth, Elemental Combination (using the Fist of Tebigong), Dragon X-Kumei Formation (with the other dragons) *Comes with the elemental martial arts attacks as well as being able to use her element outside of that. (Basically covers the whole elemental powers outside of the named list.) *AKA Iron stomach, meaning he can eat things that would make others sick, this does have its limits

Clay's southern upbringing causes some confusion among the dragons and monks, but his actions clear things up well when it comes time for them. He's physically strong and uses his side to his advantage in battle. His strength comes in handy for every day tasks too. Raimundo keeps trying to swap chores with various degrees of success!

While at times taken as slow and dense, him being quiet is not a sign of weakness, its him thinking and working through what's going on. Him being of few words means he's for the most part keeping up with everything. There are times things confuse him when it comes to magic though, as where he comes from, magic is not common at all aside from the spare magic show put on for kids.

When it comes to reliable, its Clay you look to, if he says he'll do something he'll do it, if he doesn't then something really important got in the way or something happened to him. Or the world is ending and you should run for cover cause he's fighting for the planet.

Out of all of the dragons, he's the best cook and the best at first aid. Things he was taught at home have come in handy at the temple. He can also fix certain things mechanically but only if its heavy machinery. Leave the tiny tech to Kimiko.

Due to growing up on a ranch, he has some veterinary experience as well. He can handle and take care of multiple kinds of animals, both wild and domestic. He can ride horses and tack them. His lasso skills are second to none and he uses them all the time while in battle and other times too, like keeping Omi out of trouble.

His monk outfit is above.

His casual outfit is above.

——————————-

Mythic Showdown AU || (X)

The last of the dragons in training to find out what myth he is, Clay was surprised to find out that he was. You'd think he'd notice more signs coming from a cattle ranch but he didn't until right up at the turning point.

It takes him the longest out of them to get use to being a mythic because while the others are full creature myths, his myth is part human. It's a learning curb. It is also likely why it took him so long to notice. His ears shift out more than often, like when he's embarrassed.

He's 6'7" in this form. He still has freckles too!

[strangelittlestories]

After we had finished rising up out of the clay, after we had spread ourselves across the spiked and shaking ribs of the world, we discovered two things.

First, that despite how much we believed, our world showed no signs that it was home to any gods.

Second, that it certainly did offer a home to *monsters*.

But we did not see why we should face the toothed maw of this earth alone. Why, just because the divine did not spring into the world fully formed, should our prayers go unheard? After all, if demons can sprawl across the peaks above us and cast their shadows upon our crowns, does that not imply a space from which deities might offer us their light?

A person named Jana was the first to turn our vision into action. Atop a mountain near their home, they could see a great beast - a dragon of rock and ichor and slime moss - squatting on the apex and drinking the sunlight. Jana and their people assembled supplies - candle tallow and lumber and fragrant oils - and the group began the climb to the summit.

They caught the monster while it slept (for these creatures slumbered months at a time, between their ruinous devastations). These canny folks pried apart its craggy teeth with levers and wedged its mouth open long enough for Jana to drag the cart of supplies inside.

Weeks passed. The dragon did not wake. Jana did not emerge.

Some of the people grew tired of waiting and gave Jana up for dead.

But some stayed, huddled beneath makeshift shacks and gathered round pitiful little wasteling campfires made of dried moss and dung.

Then, one day, the beast's mouth opened on its own. But its eyes stayed shut and no cantankerous breath issued forth to spread its slow death of sulphur, ash and nightshade.

Staring down its throat, the faithful saw a gentle glow.

They stepped into the mouth. Inside, the craggy passage was shored up with sanded wooden arches and decorated with softly burning candles. But the *glow*, the glow came from deeper still.

Traversing the corpse of this strange dreadnought (for it was clearly dead), they saw a creature that had been transformed into a building. Its dense flesh was calcified and hollowed out. Bones were shaped and chiselled into arches, beams, pillars. In its cavernous lungs, the air sacs had been turned into sparse cells furnished with sparse pallets.

They knew, when they saw this, that this was a place they could shelter. A place they could be safe. A place where - free from the ravages of beasts - they could begin to live.

And in its heart, there they found the thing that had once been Jana. It was a figure of light and smoke and absence. It was our first god.

---

In the times that came after, many new gods were made. Each born in the heart of some awestruck hellspawn or monstrosity.

Over the years, the presence of the gods sharpened our faith and with those blades of belief did we drive back the darkness. And with power, so did the gods become more distant.

Their monstrous temples, too, ceased to be places of succour and became places of worship. They turned from homes into holy houses. And, in their way, they became prisons. For we walled up our gods, who had once been our *friends*, behind blockades of reverence.

We forgot what it was that made these places holy:

That these temples were beautiful because people had made them and because people had lived in them.

And that our gods were beautiful because people had made them and because *people* had lived in them.

One day, perhaps, a person like Jana will walk down the halls of that first temple and drive a blade of faith into the first god’s chest.

And they will live in the empty temple and it will become beautiful again (for a time).

Perhaps.

[oneslimybastard]

Ghetsis facts:

>At least two grunts are scared of him (musharna being able to spook them off with visions of being scolded by Ghetsis)

>His speeches does in fact convince some people to release their pokémon or at least second-guess their view on the trainer-pokémon relationship

>Tells the grunts to give Bianca's Munna back

>Persuasive enough to essentially wiggle some of his Guys out of arrest in Driftveil, even if Clay does it reluctantly

>Knows Reshiram and Zekrom would not fuck with him so he picks up a miracle child from the forest to do it for him instead. Raises said child kind of like his own but also kind of not, there's a deliberate distance put between them

>Did make this wonderchild who can speak to pokémon and are clearly very empathetic towards them hang out with pokémon who had been mistreated for the purpose of instilling an ideology in him.

>Randomly has 3 ninjas who are just ride or die until the end of time for some reason

>Lots of team plasma is ride or die for him actually, otherwise Neo Team Plasma wouldn't have been a thing

>He rubs the death of Alder's partner pokémon in the mans face. All cheeky beaky like. Because he can.

>He will tell the teenager his Adopted I Swear Not Related Promise son is fixated on as a rival all about how he basically groomed say son into doing all of this dragon bullshit while having them cornered on a bridge. Then just casually walks off. His ninjas are there too.

>Will also happily tell said teenager they probably aren't that special or chosen or whatever, lol lmao, seems like ur dragon haven't woken up yet, dw maybe it will, lol.

>Cannot take an L to save his fucking life. Will lash out at everything and everyone around him and build a stupid airship with a stupid laser powered by the crinkly old grandpa of the dragon trio and do a terrorism before taking an L

>Refers to himself as being PERFECT while inhaling massive amounts of copium

>Needs a cane in bw2 and is only ever seen using one of his hands, so probably physically disabled to some degree

>Strong enough to jam the butt of that cane into the solid frozen earth of a cave. Probably just kind of a visual metaphor for him being threatening but also Hear Me Out What If He's Fucking Built-

>N is ride or die for him enough to still try and get through to him during the bw2 climax despite having been utilized as a silly little pawn yet again. This does not work, because as previously mentioned, man just cannot take that L

>When faced with literally no other option but to take an L, he passes out. His ninja squad punctuates this with him probably not being a threat anymore.

Ghetsis interpertation:

I think all of these things weave together into just a very fascinating person when you look at them a little deeper. Someone who's clearly charismatic enough to acquire that much loyalty, love, and fear — but also not equipped to handle the shame of failure in the god damn slightest. When threatened he devolves from a calculated cult leader above it all to a snarling animal fighting for its life, because he's probably rotted away behind a mask of perfectionism for years rather than done any significant growth as a person. He's clearly intelligent, probably highly emotionally intelligent because if he wasn't he wouldn't be able to pull this shit, but all of that shatters and breaks and splinters with one (1) crucial failure. He tries to recuperate but can't, the survival instinct is breathing down his neck because to him the shame of being a human like the rest of them rather than the perfect ideal he's been forging is scarier than anything that could actually physically kill him. He blames N, he blames MC, Colress, just about anyone and anything that doesn't end up pointing back to his own shortcomings.

And still! N probably loves him! And it's probably genuine! He wants to connect with him and breach that gap and give him ibuprofen because even if he's shown himself to be cringe, that's still his father, which is something he values enough to try and hold on to. And the ninja guys remain ride or die, so there's clearly something to him other than schemes and trickery, something genuine and beautiful that might not in practice be worth fighting for but it sure feels like it.

A beautiful man who's warped himself into a demon because he couldn't stand his own humanity because he's probably autistic and traumatized from his undefined childhood, and when he's beat down, rather than taking that L at long last, he'll curl up in his little cage, continue to snarl and tell himself over and over that this is what he is. What he will always be. He couldn't become god so he resigns to dying a devil. Because even still, that is preferable to him over taking that L, admitting to himself he is just a little guy like other little guys with problems he couldn't cope with, and that it caused hurt and destruction.

Devils don't feel regret or shame, humans do. And he'd have a loooot of that to chug through if he decided to face it. So he won't.

which is just very sexy and milfy and babygirl of him i think. this is my "why ghetsis is like so sexy actually" manifesto, without even tapping into the juice that is him going "nuh-uh" over his own dang disabilities but that too ties into how he can't cope with his own imperfect humanity so u know. Also that he's just kinda sassy and petty. Amazing. 10/10 best written character not in the games but in my brain.

[xxdemonicheartxx]

Flight Rising flights but as art mediums:

There are some overlaps in mediums since dragons are so tight knit and far spread

Earth: tile work/mosaics, jewelry work, ceramics, stone sculpture, chalk, clay work, plaster, leather work, rain chains

Water: plaster work, woven tapestries, shell jewelry and chimes, pearl inlays, decorative sails and flags, basket weaving, sandstone carving, watercolors, mirrors and glass sculptures

Shadow: optical illusions, black and white photography, puzzle boxes, uranium glass work, maybe iron work, mycology arrangements, shadow boxes, gouache, anything that involves glowing in the dark

Light: stone carving and gold foiled painting, sometimes tapestry weaving to depict an image or scene, impressionism, oil paint, tempera, portraiture, clothing and attire, mirrors, pigment making

Plague: hyper realism, and taxidermy, ceramics, bone carvings, tattoos, ink block prints, collage art, murals, leather work, totems and large outdoor installations

Nature: floral arrangements, dye work, wood work, candle making, hot wax painting, landscaping, rain chains, wind chimes, tapestries, needle felting, carpentry, animal cosmetics (haircuts, animal safe dye, nail and claw painting, etc), apparel/clothing, pigment making

Ice: needle felting, wood carving, quilting, ice carving and sculpture, snow sculptures, knitting, the art of tea blends, dried plant arrangements, carpentry, fabric weaving, tapestries, crochet, wood burning, blanket weaving, candle making, dye work, wood turning

Fire: welding, decorative weapon smithing, glass blowing, wood burning, wrought iron, stained glass, latticed metal, terracotta, ceramics, obsidian and basalt carving, graphite, slate, charcoal

Wind: paper mache, ribbon mediums, basket weaving, sonorous sculptures, wind chimes, feathered attire, really tall and thin structures/sculptures, jade carving, blanket weaving

Arcane: resin, stained glass, welding, intricate silver work, collaborative neon work with shadow (they need that special eye for glow in the dark), crystal carving, zen gardens, bonsai art, screen printing, photography, illuminated manuscripts, clothing and apparel, gold foil work, abstract art

Lightning: bronze cast sculptures, sand sculptures (when lightning strikes the sand and turns it to stone) aluminum casts poured into ant colonies/hills, pop art, up-cycled art, photography, art that is still capable of being utilized and interacted with because people and dragons are part of the medium, assemblage art, banners and flags

[linkemon]

Home (Zuko x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

"ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ [ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]. ʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ꜱᴏ ꜰᴀʀ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ꜱʜᴀᴘᴇꜱ, ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴍᴇʟʟꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ʙʏ ʜᴇʀ. ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇʀ, ɴᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴍᴀɢᴇꜱ ꜰʟᴀꜱʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ʜɪꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴇxɪꜱᴛ."

— I'd like a refill of jasmine tea. — Iroh was happily lounging on the couch.

Zuko sighed. His uncle looked almost healthy. He could make the brew himself. However, he willingly took advantage of the privileges of a sick person. The boy was forced to jump around him and serve him. He adjusted the pillows, listened to the nagging and also prepared drinks. The latter took the most time. Iroh was an expert and as a result, he was not satisfied with the first drink he came across. Usually [Reader] saved the situation. As a healer, she knew these things. In addition, she quickly became the favourite of the Dragon of the West.

The prince headed towards the kitchen. He hoped he would find the tray soon. The little temple was truly beautiful but there was a happy mess everywhere. Some rooms were used for drying herbs, others were converted into granaries and others into sick rooms. During the war, this must have been of particular importance. Currently, the only people who visited here were those from the villages below the hill. And now he and his injured uncle too.

[Reader] found them unconscious in the nearby forest. A chance encounter with a unit of Earth Kingdom soldiers ended in disaster. The boy's cuts and bruises healed quickly but he had strained his fire magic. The first day he woke up, he felt a strange emptiness. He couldn't do anything. There was no question of searching for the Avatar in this state. Only three days ago he managed to create a flame large enough to burn the wood in the fireplace. The healer, like Iroh, claimed that the condition of his tired soul was responsible for his illness. So, to heal it, he did all sorts of things. Starting with weeding the garden, sorting medicines and ending with cleaning up after Aiiro. The big, blue peacock gave him the most problems. The extremely proud animal did not like to move. He had to push it as hard as he could to get it to move. Sometimes it even snapped its beak but it never hurt him. After feeding, he felt like hitting it with a broom but he always remembered that it was that thing that had brought him to the temple, so he refrained.

Zuko took the tea leaves, the kettle and the clay cups. He put it all on the tray and headed back towards the living room. However, a familiar voice caught his attention:

— I'll say it one last time. They are my guests. You have no right to demand that I hand them over! — [Reader] was standing at the entrance to the temple.

— Consider this, even if we leave them alone according to the law, they can still convict you of treason. I say this as a friend.

The prince looked at the man behind the door. Slightly worn, green clothes and a straw hat marked the farmer. He must have come from Hefei. There were no other settlements nearby large enough to farm.

— Is this a threat? — The girl clenched her fist. — My family has been serving people for generations. We don't ask who they are, we just treat them. My grandmother delivered your mother, my mother delivered you and I delivered your children...

— That's different! They murdered innocent people! Our entire nation suffers because of them! — Hate burned in the man's eyes.

Zuko knew that look well. Almost everyone looked at him that way. The Earth Nation, the Water Nation, the Fire Nation after they were banished, the Avatar, his sister and most of all, his father. Everyone wanted him gone. He missed his mother. He had the feeling that apart from his uncle, she was the only one who truly loved him. And now he met [Reader] and for the first time in a long time he felt that someone had truly dismissed his mistakes. She looked at him, believing that he had changed, even though she knew how much evil he had done in the past. It was like a warm ray of sunshine after a long winter. That's why he froze with his tray, listening for the answer. He was scared. However, it was not that if he was extradited, he should run away. He was afraid of rejection. A girl standing a few steps away gave him hope. He didn't want to lose her.

— Go away! — The healer pointed to the stairs.

— Pack your bags!

— Are they coming for us? What a pity. I didn't have time to finish my tea. - The general put down his cup sadly.

Zuko was used to his uncle's calmness but [Reader's] composure told him something was wrong.

— Why aren't you packing? — he asked, leading Aiiro out.

— Because I'm not going anywhere. — The girl calmly handed him the saddle.

The prince froze as he reached for the item.

— You're not serious, are you?

— My family has lived here for generations. It is my house. We even survived the Fire Nation War. I will stay here like everyone before me.

The healer passed the boy and began to saddle the peacock. The bird sensed anxiety. He began to pace impatiently in place.

— It's stupid!

— Do you think years of tradition are stupid?

— Yes! If there's a chance you'll die from it, then yes!

Zuko grabbed the strap of his bag. He squeezed it as tight as he could.

— You can heal people anywhere — he added. — I think your ancestors would have wanted you to do this, even if not in this temple.

— I won't be able to help. There are all the plants and books here and…— Her voice broke. — Here's everything I know, Zuko. I grew up here. How do I leave it? — Tears welled up in her eyes.

— I know what it's like to leave home — he took a deep breath — but it will get better with time.

The moment of exile flashed before his eyes. When his father declared him a traitor, he lost his home. Since then, he has been desperately trying to get it back. Every step in recent years was supposed to bring him closer to his goal. His search for the Avatar brought him to this place. So did he have the right to ask her to leave? If he could turn back time, would he oppose the general? Would he agree to Agni Kai with his father? He wasn't sure. Yet he tried to force someone to voluntarily abandon their home.

He looked over the white marble columns. Over a dozen or so days, he managed to like the atmosphere of this place. The scents of lemon trees and flowers surrounded him. There were many little creatures living in the garden. He saw frogs, butterflies and birds. Even snails, although they destroyed crops. [Reader] didn't have the heart to kill them. Fat koi fish swam lazily in the pond. He felt at peace as he crossed the bridge over them. He felt like the last time he felt this feeling was when he and his mother were feeding the ducks. He was a little boy then. The times when they formed a family together with Azula and their father seemed very distant.

And now he had the impression that he was on vacation on the Amber Island again and like a child he didn't have to worry about anything. The curtains on the temple terrace fluttered slightly. He sat in the shade on soft pillows. A healer was sitting opposite him in the sun. Iroh poured tea for everyone while explaining the rules of pai sho. He set up the board, chattering happily. Zuko paid no attention to the ongoing conversation. He smelled fresh laundry. It was hanging on a string a little further away. His nose also told him that another batch of herbs was drying nearby. He took a sip of the warm drink. It had a mild, chamomile aftertaste. He bit into the cereal cookie, enjoying the crunch of the dried fruit. He glanced at [Reader] and saw Ursa for a moment. However, the impression quickly dissipated. He laughed at his uncle's weak joke as he moved his pawn. He knew he was losing because he wasn't focusing on the rules. He should be annoyed. After all, he was wasting his time and Aang was still enjoying his freedom. Still, this moment seemed too beautiful to care. The undisturbed idyll was stuck in his head. For some reason, he remembered this ordinary afternoon the best. He felt that it would come back to him again.

It was difficult for him to leave this place. It was hard for him to admit it to himself. Waking up at dawn on a cold morning, breakfasts with freshly brewed tea, hand-dug vegetables for dinner, afternoon walks in the shade of trees, afternoon teas with games, dinners by the warm fireplace and nightly reading of books — all this would now become just a memory. He knew he would leave this place one day, so why did it hurt inside like he was thirteen again?

— Zuko, get in, we don't have time! — The general grabbed Aiiro's reins.

Is it really about the place? This question occupied his mind.

He looked at [Reader]. He realized that he had been wrong so far. This house was not created by shapes, colours and smells but by her. Without her, none of the images flashing through his head would exist.

The boy threw all his supplies out of the bag and handed it to the girl.

— What are you...

— Take all the seeds and books you can fit in here. We will hold them until your return! — The flame flared up above the prince's fingertips.

— Better late than never! — Iroh, pleased, pointed to his nephew's fire.

Was this the balance they talked about so much? Now had his soul finally found a good reason to release the embers?

He created a wall of fire. It burned as brightly as when he fought Azula. He felt strangely calm. There was no nervous, battle fever about it. It was replaced by composure mixed with the belief that what he was doing was right.

Zuko looked up. That night, the starry sky was decorated with hundreds of constellations. The moon lit the way and the dense summer beneath them. Aiiro flapped his powerful wings, creating strong gusts of air. Uncle's loud snoring could be heard from the saddle.

— Zuko. — The girl's quiet voice woke him from his thoughts.

— You're not sleeping yet? — he sighed.

— I could not fall asleep. — She moved closer.

Up there it was hard to hear what others were saying. The wind effectively drowned out the words.

— Me neither — he admitted.

He knew it would be a long time before he forgot about the hill temple. The envious inhabitants of Hefei used his fire in anger. They burned everything that could be destroyed. From the peacock's back he saw first a burning glow and then thick, gray smoke. Ash danced in the cool air along with shreds of pages from ancient books.

— Thank you. — [Reader] wrapped the blanket tighter around herself.

— What for? For burning down your house? — There was regret in his voice.

— You know very well that you didn't burn it.

The prince knew that what she was saying was true. And yet he didn't realize how much he needed to hear it from her.

— If I had stayed there, who knows…— She looked behind her. — Maybe I wouldn't be here anymore.

— I couldn't leave you there because…— The unspoken words hung between them.

He was afraid of another loss. That was the truth. He managed to trust someone and didn't want to face the pain again.

The healer spread her arms. He tentatively snuggled into her. She still smelled of flowers and herbs. Her hair tickled his face. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to cry. He didn't know why he was crying anymore. Was it from longing for a temple or a palace? Was it for family and a future that could never exist or for [Reader] who could be dead? Was he crying for himself or for others? It didn't matter. He sobbed like a little child, who deep inside he still was. In the cool air, hundreds of meters above the ground, the firebender found warmth.