#Lok au fic

[jade-of-mourning]

sorry sometimes i think about mako and my heart hurts so much. this kid raised himself and his brother on the streets in homelessness and utter poverty from eight through fifteen, promptly after seeing the violent death of his mother and father. he turned to the triple threats because they couldn't survive as a pair of wretched kids without any adult support, and the environment forced him to turn into the exact character that killed his parents in a terrible twist of irony. and after sheer-fucking-luck hits and they aren't homeless anymore, their livelihood wavers on the outcome of what's a literally game to everyone but them; and after things are finally starting to look up and their team is going places and things just might be okay, his gradually stabilizing world unceremoniously expands and everything goes to shit.

and the city that chewed him up and spat him back out, ruined him as a child and took away his ability to stay afloat in a true sense of normalcy as an adult — when it's on the verge of destruction and falling to pieces before his eyes, he gives himself to save it with the full expectation to die. he went from the kid who didn't and couldn't care about anything outside of himself and his brother, to finding redemption for his younger self in his police work despite its injustice against him, to willingly sacrificing himself to a world that had never loved him.

he's a desperate people pleaser, socially and emotionally stunted for the adult he had to be as a kid, unable to navigate interpersonal relationships easily yet still trying his damned hardest. he's intensely and entirely devoted to the things that matter to him and for so long it was only him, bolin, and ensuring their survival — yet by the end, that devotion has expanded to protecting the rest of the world. he starts out entirely self-reliant and ends in trusting the people he cares about to know their own needs, to be able to take care of themselves, to be okay without him despite having spent so much of his life defined by his role in others' well-being.

just. what the fuck i'm such a big fan of this fictional guy and i'm unashamed about it at this point. also let him cry please (if you won't i'll do it i'll let him cry)

[madlad-link]

fanart wip of Ronin Korra that I unfortunately will never finish, but you should totally go read Ronin Korra by @silktum!

[biconickyoshi]

I am not ready for when Aang dies if you ever do a TLOK sequel. I will be sobbing.

Oh believe me, I will be too 😭 If I do get around to writing it, I would really like to give Zuko the opportunity to see Aang (and Iroh) again in the Spirit World once the portals open post-Harmonic Convergence (because I am 100% planning on scrapping the whole “Vaatu permanently destroys all of Korra’s past lives” thing lmao).

[hollowfyshunsuikubo]

The Midnight Flame

A/N: More soulmate au i literally love this concept sm Izuru is one of my favourite Bleach characters, and I’ve been playing around with writing this in my spare time. This one is set pre-tybw but post fullbringer arc. I used the soul tug concept for this one, where the first touch between soulmates loosens the tug completely. Though, if your soulmate is having a hard time in any way, it can cause you pain. Only a little angst in this one >:) reader is both depressed and enraged so good luck. Once again, not Beta read

Izuru Kira x gn!reader Word count: 6.4k Warnings: angst, nsfw smut, bad language AU: Soulmates

Morning. The sunlight through the windows, the feel of a blanket covering only his legs. Morning. The arrival of another day, going to waste. Sitting up, Kira looks at his hands. Hardened from years of being a shinigami. He inspected them, turning them over, holding them up to the light that caused him to squint, searching for something that was both never and always there.

A hand reached up to grab one of his, followed by the interlocking of fingers. His heart jumped as he looked to the right, hoping, praying, needing- 

And there was nothing. He was alone in his bed, as always. It got cold at night, but it was warm in the mornings. With a sigh, he got out of bed, and got ready for the day. His captain was… interesting, to say the least. A music man. He was so different from Gin, like fire and water. Gin was unpredictable, he came and went as he pleased, often leaving some form of destruction in his wake. He raged through the Gotei 13, laughing as he did. His betrayal burned, and left its scars. Third degrees ran up over Kira’s arms, his torso, his legs. It felt like the fire of it was behind his eyes. When he thought of Gin, he thought of fire, he thought of how it felt to be burning without any water to douse the flames. Captain Otorobashi was different. He was like water. He filled the spaces he entered with ease, and even when he left, droplets of his kind words or generous music remained. He flowed with what needed to be done, and he left no space untouched. Captain Otorobashi was a calming presence, one that soothed the burns that covered Kira day after day, and finally put out the fires that had enveloped his skin. 

But with water came caution. Fire, at least, was direct with its deadliness. Water lulled you into a false sense of security, then drowned you as soon as you got too comfortable. Water could fill your lungs and take away your ability to scream, to speak. Water filled up any and all spaced, and could very well kill any and all within them. Kira had been burned before, and even if the flames had been cooled with sweet water, there was no telling if he’d drown. 

Morning. Kira walked out of his room and greeted his squadmates. Morning. Morning. Morning. Each day was the same. Morning meetings with his Captain, who would be strumming on a guitar or reading one of those manga he enjoyed. Then training, then requests, then paperwork until sundown, then to bed. Each day is more repetitive than the last, no change in scenery, no chance to unwind at the end of the night with something other than a bottle of sake and his right hand. The same hand he thought they had grabbed, whoever they were. He would love to change his days with the feeling of someone beside him, lounging in his bed when he went back to his room, smiling and waiting for him. He would love to wake up beside someone, kisses turning into wandering hands, wandering hands that turned into being late and disheveled for his morning meeting with Captain Otorobashi. He would love to finally see his soulmate. 

As he approached his Captain's office, he focused in on his heart. He felt the same familiar tug, that ever present feeling of being pulled somewhere. In a moment of hesitation, Kira paused in front of his Captains office. A lump rose in his throat, choking him as he wondered where his other half was.

–

“This could have been an afternoon job,” You groan as Shuhei drops a large stack of files on your desk. He shakes his head and tosses you a pen.

“This could be an afternoon job, but it might take all day, so it’s an all day job for you.” Shuhei was never one to beat around the bush with you. It was like talking to a printer. The same words, over and over again, hell-bent on forcing you to forget the incessant tugging you constantly felt in your heart, and the fact that you often found yourself staring out the window, hoping that your obviously internally tortured soulmate was at least doing okay. It was a painful tug, one that made your heart ache. Some days, it was so bad you couldn’t work, which brought no end of shame to Captain Muguruma and Lieutenant Hisagi. It’s not like you liked it either, as you’ve tried saying so many times. But neither of them are too impressed with you.

Recently, it’s like you’re being punished for things you can't readily control. Cramps had you taken out, despite the fact you were more than willing to throw yourself into whatever training was being offered by Captain Muguruma. Anything was better than missing another day because of some stupid pain. You were denied. You threw a plate in response. 

After that, during a particularly bad day, after an apparently horrendous captains meeting, the tugging on your heart had wrenched so bad it caused you to vomit, while also praying your soulmate wasn’t a captain, least of all your captain, since some of the tugs in your heart seemed to line up with his foul moods. You didn't really think it was though. What kind of soulmate literally throws you into your room and slams the door, leaving you to choke?

Whoever your soulmate was, they were causing no end to the grief you were going through. The paperwork on your desk was looking extremely flammable. Fire seemed to be the only way you were going to calm down, since you burned with rage over just how standoffish, stubborn, and stoic your squadmates were. You were fed up. But you still took the work that you correctly deemed an afternoon job, and first thing in the morning, started your pity paperwork with a scowl.

One day, you’d meet your soulmate and be able to quell the furious tugging on your heart that sometimes left you incapacitated. One day you’d be able to sit down and do pity paperwork so fast, Captain Muguruma would have no choice but to sing your praises.

One day, you'd be appreciated for the fact that you still work hard, despite the challenges you face. 

–

The nights were almost worse than the mornings. Sweat dripped down his face as he hunched over himself, holding his dick in his hand, stroking, squeezing slightly every now and then, his eyes fluttering. So often his heart hurt at night, and so often did he engage in guilty pleasures he should be saving for his soulmate. It brought him no end of guilt. He threw his head back as he began to move faster, his cock bobbing in his hands as he chased his release. He was filled with images he couldn’t even see clearly- hints of skin, another's hand, another's mouth, another's hole-

Kira gasped and groaned as he spilled over his fist, slowing his stroke to nothing. His mind was a mess, and once again, the clarity that came after hit him like a brick. 

What was he doing? He could be making good use of his time, getting sleep, resting his mind, being awake enough to maybe search for his soulmate, and yet. He was awake so late, hand on his cock, a weak and pale imitation of someone who would bring him joy that surpassed an orgasm beyond belief. Face burning in shame- that fire again -he cleaned off his hand before laying down. Fire was what burned him in the first place. That traitor, the man he trusted most, the man who, like a flame, had swept across him and teased him, teased him, about who the other half of his soul was. Who showed him what it was to be strong like the flame and burn so brightly even the sun would be jealous. 

He found a simple answer while reliving such a betrayal. He was afraid of having what he wanted. He was afraid of the fire of whoever matched his soul because of the burns that would follow. It was the reason he only kept Shuhei close, the reason he stayed an arms length away from everyone else, including his captain. His captain, who, like water, would soothe his burns, put out his flame, and carry him to safety if he wished. Yet water killed too, just slower. Kira lay on his back, a hand behind his head, and focused on the tug in his heart. He wondered if everyone had to go searching for that tug. Maybe his soulmate just had a simple life, without much fear or stress. Maybe his soulmate's heart was a closed book, better at hiding its anger and fear than he was. 

The last thought hurt his heart. He had gone through so much- he only wished that his soulmate was alright, and that whenever they searched for their connection, their tug, that they were not angry with what they found.

–

If it were possible to be enraged at a person you’d never met, seen, spoken to, or even knew at all, you decided you were rightfully pissed at your soulmate, whoever the bastard was. Your chest felt like it was being torn open, and you hid in the gardens of your squad. You were on a late night patrol, and things were going fine.

Until.

Until whoever your soulmate was decided to have a miserable time of things. You gagged as you curled up into a ball, hiding behind a large tree. You wouldn’t be seen like this. You hated it. If you could’ve made any wish at that moment, it would be to close off the connection between your souls, if even for two minutes, just so you could at least run to your room to have privacy. With what little strength you had, You attempted to stand. Tears pricked your eyes from the sheer pain, and you felt your dinner threaten to come up.

Then a hand grasped your arm.

“You look like shit,” Shuhei said bluntly. “Why are you still out here? Go home.” With a glaring side eye, you wrenched your arm out of his grasp, stumbling back a little. He must’ve heard the gagging, or just his damned sixth sense that told him where you were at all times. He must truly despise you to keep tabs on you like this. To always know when to send you home just so he can dock your pay, save the division a little more money. It made you want to howl. It made you want to feel blood between your teeth and your zanpakuto clenched so tightly in your hands that the sheer force of your grip left bruises.

“Fuck off. I’m fine.” You spat in response. The aching in your chest only got worse. Shuhei didn’t move.

–

He was at a crossroads. He could pick you up and haul you back to your room in the barracks and force you to stay in, he could stay with you and attempt to help you ride out the waves of this pain that seemed to cause you physical harm, or he could… leave. Shuhei could listen and leave. Listen and leave, easy as that. Something not even Muguruma did. He just grunted and sent you away. Left all the work to him, and let Mashiro annoy the shit out of him while he was working…

He couldn’t leave you. You were his subordinate, and you were in pain. It seemed like you were made of pain. It hurt him, but not as much as it hurt you. You were a diligent person, and you tried so hard. Yet there was always something wrong, things you couldn’t control. Because of the pain, you turned into a being of hate. A cornered, starving dog, snarling at everyone. Sure, you joked sometimes, but your anger was a fire that scorched others. Shuhei wasn’t sure if it burned the Squad or you more. 

Crossroads. He watched as you attempted to stand up straight, a hand grasping the left side of your shihakusho like you were going to rip it off. Your left hand grasping at yourself as if you could tear your soulmate bond out of your chest. In a moment of forgetfulness, Shuehi reached for you, but that flash of anger in your eyes made him stop and lower his hand. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t know how to help. He couldn’t leave you, he couldn’t help you, and he couldn’t even show you that your anger was misplaced but not misunderstood. He couldn’t even be a good Lieutenant. He was grasping at nothing. So he stood tall, and just watched. He swallowed words and swallowed pity, and watched. He watched as you finally were able to stand, using the tree you were hiding behind as your crutch. He watched as you glared at him. And he listened as you spoke.

“Did you not hear me, Lieutenant? I’m fine. Fuck off.” Your voice burned with anger. He couldn’t help you, not without flames rising up his skin. But he’d been burned before. Captain Muguruma was made of fire. He burned away all the residual droplets that Tosen has left behind. Fire was a warm, comforting, protective thing when it needed to be. Just as water was not only calm and welcoming, but also a killer. Everything needed moderation. Shuhei knew that fire and water were both needed. You were burning in flames of pain, anger, and your own misery without any water to douse you in. Shuhei swallowed and finally, he spoke.

“You’re not fine. You’re hurting again and-” How like you to cut him off, riling like a dog about to strike.

“Lieutenant Hisagi,” His heart ached. Gone were the days you’d laugh and joke together, calling each other by first names. Another reminder of what had been washed away as the years had gone by. “I know you may not like me right now, but for the love of God, let me do my job.” It felt like a slap to the face. Not like you? You were his friend. Sure, you may not have been his anchor like Momo or Kira, but he still saw you as a friend. You’d begun pulling away. You’d begun to suffer alone after Tosen betrayed the Gotei, and you’d suffered more as your soulmate had begun to pull so hard your heart couldn’t take it. And you had the audacity to say that he was the one that didn’t like you. You-

“Listen,” His voice is sharp, like glass, hoping to slice your skin to make you bleed out your self-loathing. “Shut up. I am your Lieutenant. I am your superior. I am telling you to go home. I am giving you a goddamn order. Are you insubordinate?” He felt cruel. But he was at his wits end with you. There wasn’t anything he could do, and you refused to accept help, or even let him listen. You had shut yourself off and withdrew to the point where he halfway considered putting you on a watch. Yet you persisted, the pain that haunts your every waking moment, something you are determined to not let define you. It hurts him.

People had to focus to feel that tug. Everyone was a master of emotions. The fact you felt it like someone had tied a raging hollow to your heart and soul meant whoever your soulmate was was hiding a great deal of inner pain. Or they didn’t have a good grasp on their emotions. Either way, Shuhei didn’t know how to help. He could feel his tug, pulsing away, but it never hurt. Not like yours. But seeing you, an old friend, in enough pain that you are sick and weakened because of it made him despise your soulmate. It made him want to grab the offender by the throat and throttle them until they go ahold of themselves. A fire burned in your eyes as you turned his words over in your head. Shuhei kept a stern face on, despite the fact he’d directly threatened you. You wouldn’t know it, but he felt remorse for what he had to do.

–

You wanted to hit Shuhei. He looked every part the asshole as you thought he was. He’s been picking things up from Captain Muguruma, that’s for sure. Both of them are pricks. Cold, reserved, and uncaring. You could scream. You could leap forward and rip Shuhei to shreds. But instead, you glare and turn away, managing your pain for just long enough to walk to your room in the barracks, and slam the door. Someone will complain in the morning about the noise, but you don't care. You burn with fury. You lay in your bed, your anger getting the best of you for some time, until all you can do is think.

You fucked up, yet again. Every single time the burning pain from the tug in your heart gets too much, you lash out. It’s becoming the thing that is ruining your life, but only because you keep letting it. If only you could make it stop, but with what time? Finding one's soulmate took time, and time was something you didn’t have the luxury of. There were articles to edit, training to be done, rounds and commissions to complete. You couldn’t follow the tug of your heart without negativity following you as you returned. It was a cruel thing. Just like you and Shuhei have been to each other for some time now. It felt like another betrayal each time you and Shuhei butted heads. He seemed insistent on you not overworking yourself, while also sending you home whenever you showed a wince of pain. But you wanted to work. You wanted to keep doing what you loved in vain hopes the tug in your heart would lessen and finally be something you had to search for.

The night was long. Nights were always worse than the days. But you closed your eyes and ignored how the tugging in your heart, the tugging in your very soul, clogged your throat and made you choke on your own misery. Hatred pooled in your heart, but not for you soulmate. It made you sick.

–

“Someone’s in pain?” Kira blinked as Shuhei lamented. His close friend wasn’t doing well. Bags under his eyes, slouched shoulders, messier hair. It was like he’d been working overtime again. 

“And they won’t listen. All I do is tell them ‘take care of yourself. Go home and rest. Take your time’ and all they do is get angry!” Shuhei ranted. He took another swig of sake and glared at nothing. Kira was getting concerned. “If I ever meet their soulmate, I’m gonna use Kazeshini and slice ‘em up.” 

Kira was very uncomfortable with that notion, mainly because he’d be an accessory to murder if it happened, and whoever this person in pain was would have to live without the other half of their soul permanently. He had another sip of sake for himself, feeling sullen. He glanced at his friend again.

“How bad is it? Surely it can’t be that bad-”

“Now you even sound like them! Fucks sakes… throwing up because your tug is hurting that bad and still saying you can fight a hollow isn’t a good thing. I’m going to put them on leave just so they can find their stupid soulmate and so I can get a piece of ‘em and give them a piece of my mind… ugh.”

Kira ignored how Shuhei had interrupted him. He listened quietly, and thought about this person. They sounded strong, but tortured by pain they didn’t ask to have. He felt his own heart ache in solidarity. He wished his soulmate wasn’t in pain. Selfishly, Kira wished he could abandon everything just for a day so he could find his soulmate. Maybe then his hand would stop being his only comfort in the night hours. To finally hold them in his arms and be able to feel their skin against his as he kissed their forehead and apologized for taking so long. Shuhei had another long drink, and Kira saw this as an opportunity. He’d been feeling so restless lately, maybe a change of scenery would be a good thing.

“Why don’t I come in and help for a bit? I’m sure Captain Muguruma would understand, what with how chaotic Mashiro is, and all the work you’re putting in for the Communication…” He trailed off, anxious to hear what his friend would say. Shuhei was about to take another drink, then paused halfway. He lowered the bottle and stared at it, his expression forlorn.

“...maybe I’ll take ‘em to the printing room. That’ll raise their spirits. I’m just worried about ‘em… they’re still my friend, you know? Seeing them in pain, and hearing them accuse me of not liking them… it’s hard.” 

Kira had no idea what Shuhei was on about, but concluded it must be about the person he was ranting about before. Overall, he took it as an agreement. Kira had another sip of his own sake as Shuhei starts to bawl, the bartender looking at them oddly. Shuhei started saying a name, which seemed odd to Kira, but he concluded it as the person's name. Placing a hand over his heart as he begins to drink all of his sake, Kira hopes his soulmate is alright, and not suffering in pain like Shuhei’s other friend is. He shook his head as Shuhei howled in misery, and Lieutenant Iba had to restrain him.

–

You stared at the printing press. Your mind churned, trying to find the reason behind Shuhei's current niceness. It felt like a trap. You inspected every inch of it, making sure nothing was faulty. It had been a long time since Shuhei had let you in here, mainly because of your work not being up to standard because of your pain, but today was special it seemed. One of his Lieutenant friends had come in to save the day and help out, much to Captain Muguruma’s mixed chagrin and relief. A blonde boy, who reminded you a lot of water. Smooth, quiet, seemingly weightless. Something different to the fire that had burned in your blood. 

You caught Shuhei staring again and you frowned. Standing up straight, you walk over to him.

“You’re looking good, mostly. The text blocks need a little upgrading, though. The wood down the far end is looking a little shabby too. It might be time for a more modern upgrade, but other than that, everything is good. I’m surprised the platen is still going too…” You speak normally for the first time in weeks. It isn’t a complaint. It isn’t filled with suppressed rage. It isn’t said sarcastically. It’s a normal conversation. Shuhei nods and rubs the back of his neck.

“...It might be time for an upgrade, yeah…” He mutters. You can see the thoughts running through his head. For the first time in a while, you see Shuhei, and not Lieutenant Hisagi. You pause for a moment, just watching him.

You know what he’s thinking. You can see the flash of Tosen behind his eyes, thoughts of the man who was a good captain, but in reality a traitor to everything you loved. It was painful. You recalled a time when you sat with Tosen in the garden. You were new to the Soul Society then, a recently graduated Soul Reaper. You’d had a terrible day, and were sitting in the garden, trying to make sense of things. Tosen had come up to you and invited you to join him on a walk. You honestly thought he was going to berate you.

But the man had talked about nonsense for a solid hour. The weather. Ink cartridges. What wood felt best when you had to take a nap on a desk. The feeling of different winds depending on what direction they came from. Never did you think a blind man would be able to talk for so long about the things you either thought weren’t worthy of talking about, or the things you’d never thought of before. For a solid hour, he spoke, you sometimes asking questions. Before you knew it, your mood had improved. Tosen had somehow managed to make you feel better by utterly confusing you. 

It was something you didn’t forget. It’s the reason why you had lashed out so aggressively when he left, your soulmate's tug becoming the source of all your pain once you’d killed as many hollows as possible. A man who had stepped out of his comfort zone to comfort a young shinigami, became almost like a father to you, one of the three greatest traitors in history. It made you scream. It was like he’d thrown you into water to drown, and when you coughed up your lungs, you set things on fire, just to feel the warmth Tosen has once provided to you.

You and Shuhei stood in silence for so long, the air became thick. When he finally looked back at you, a flash of guilt crossed his face. He cleared his throat.

“A new printing press. It’s a good idea. We’d have more time to do other things and we’d be able to…” He trailed off. So you finished his sentence for him, a flicker of your flame reigniting in your chest, hot and furious.

“Move on from the past.”

You two locked eyes. His jaw set and your eyes blazed. For a moment, it seemed like you were both going to draw your zanpakuto and fight, just to feel something other than the rage that followed a betrayal of a man you both admired and respected. A man you both knew as your calm ocean.

Then the door burst open and that blond friend of his walked in. Your tug jumped, but you ignored it. You and Shuhei snapped out of it and turned to the blonde man, who walked in. “Apologies. I’m Lieutenant Kira.” He said to you. You nodded your head in response. He was just being polite. You introduced yourself as well, making sure to be polite. You dodn’t miss how his eyes widened slightly. You frowned a little. Shuhei must’ve ran his mouth again… speaking of Shuhei, he butted in.

“Kira, what’s happening? Is everything alright?” The black haired man asked, concerned. Kira shook his head.

“Captain Muguruma is about to dissect Lieutenant Mashiro. Half the Squad is holding him back.” 

You held back a laugh, putting a hand over your mouth. Kira looked at you, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion for a moment before Shuhei started running out of the room.

“Stay here! That little-”

His voice faded as he ran, leaving you and Kira alone. The room was silent again, until you burst out into laughter.

The sound was beautiful to Kira. To him, it was like water falling over stones, so merry and carefree. To you, your laugh felt like a warm flame, not angry or harmful, but merry and calming. It felt like freedom. You kept on smiling even after you were done.

“One of these days, Captain Muguruma is going to kill Mashiro.” You said dryly, chuckling a little more at your own thought. “But only if Shuhei doesn’t get to her first.” Kira chuckled to himself.

“They’re like oil and water…” He said in a tone of false sorrow. He shook his head and then glanced at you. His heart was racing, and his tug felt painful for the first time. It was like time froze as Kira realized his tug was hurting. It felt like someone was ripping his heart out of his chest whenever he looked at you. He stepped away a little, not knowing what to do. 

You looked at Kira again, and for the first time in a long time, you felt light. Like all your burdens had been burned away until only the embers remained. Something you usually only felt in the dead of night, an emotion of calmness and serenity you’d dubbed the ‘midnight flame’. A soft, burning sensation that soothed rather than harmed. You saw something turning behind Kira’s eyes, and the tenseness of his neck.

You recalled how Shuhei had said Kira was a bit antisocial. You’d heard of him before Tosen and the others had betrayed the Soul Society. You hadn’t met, though, due to your own schedule and the fact that Shuhei needed to be babysat while drinking, which wasn’t your favourite thing to do. Out of respect for him, you collected yourself and stepped away a little as well, looking away. Your chest felt so light. For the first time in a long time, it’s like you’re able to breathe without feeling the heavy burden of your soulmates tug. You went to speak again, maybe to break the silence, when Kira fell to his knees.

You paused for a minute, wondering if you should laugh or not. You opted to crouch down where you are and looked at Kira.

“...are you alright?” He glanced at you, his eyes filled with tears. He quickly looked away, clenching his fists over his knees as he tried to focus on anything but the pain. The tug in his chest was too much, this blistering hurt that burns him. You reached out to him, but he exhaled sharply before you could touch him. Your brow creased, and your own tug began to hurt again. An endless cycle for you, one that you couldn’t escape. Your face hardened. ‘I’ll get Lieutenant Hisagi.” A simple decision. You stood quickly and walked out of the room, searching for Shuhei.

You followed the sounds of commotion to see Shuhei and Mashiro having an argument. You were about to step in to ask when he’ll be done, when an errant hand grabed you by the neck and marched you back inside.

“Stay out of it.”

If you had to describe Captain Muguruma, you would call him a blaze. He was a wild-looking man, with the strength of a hundred regular shinigami, and an outrageous sense of style that had inspired Shuhei to get tattoos on his face, of all places. He set you down inside and checked over his shoulder to see if Mashiro was dead yet. Finding the little green girl still alive, he looked back at you.

“Whatever it is, you come to me. I’m your Captain now, not Hisagi.” Muguruma spoke with an annoyed tone in his voice, as if this was the last thing he wanted to be dealing with. You recalled every time he barked at you to speed up, or told you to go home and get over it. He was perhaps the worst person who could’ve caught you when you needed help. You swallowed and put on a smile.

“I was just looking to see if it had ended yet.”

“Well, it hasn’t, so get back inside. I heard he left you at the… printing thing.”

“...the printing press?”

“That. Whatever it is, just stay there.”

“We need a more modern one.” “Lieutenant Hisagi is in charge of that. He’ll come to me when he wants one and I’ll give him the funds.” “Well I want to talk to him about what options we have.”

“From what I hear, you’ve been banned from the Communication work until your pain isn’t such a hindrance.”

You fell silent. Muguruma stared down at you with his arms crossed, radiating pure annoyance. You weren’t going to be getting any help from anyone, it looked like. Without another word, you turned away, walking back to the printing room, and a distressed Kira. Your body burned with anger at Muguruma. He only became captain because there was nobody else to take the spot, and because the Soul Society had been desperate for experienced captains. Otherwise, he’d still be rotting in the mortal realm, living his pathetic life, probably getting more piercings. 

Muguruma watched you. He didn’t understand what he was doing wrong. He was being truthful, wasn’t he? He knew you were hindered by something that could be sorted. Why didn’t you take your numerous enforced days off to find the cause of your issue and stop it? Why didn’t you thank him for at least noticing you weren’t doing okay? He looked down at the ground as he scowled. You’re probably just emotional and in pain again. He’d have to give you more space, leave you alone. Your anger was helping nobody. At least when he got angry he had time for it… 

You entered the printing room again, your eyes trained on Kira. He looked a little better. He met your gaze for a moment, and you sighed.

“Lieutenant Kira is busy with Lieutenant Mashiro.” You announced. You walked forward and held out your hand, a gesture that seemed fine for time being. “Let’s get you somewhere that doesn’t house a machine.”

When he took your hand, his face pale and his palm slightly sweaty, it was like a thousand midnight doves erupt from the touch alone.

Such a feeling of fullness filled you. A flurry of soft wings enveloping your entire being, a eruption of a waterfall inside your soul that quenched all anger and pain that led you to salvation. No longer did you crave, no longer did your tug pull at your very being. Water rushed into every part of your soul, filling it with such a lightness you could've sworn at the moment it felt like you were suspended in a great sea, but no risk of drowning was present. 

For Izuru, he felt warmth after the loss of such a crippling pain. Such a hearth bloomed inside him he knew that he would never feel cold during his lonely midnight again. A flame so enveloping inside his being, something so warm and right to fight for, he likened it to a Phoenix. Reborn from the ashes, no longer suffering under cool water. The water in his lung was burned away, and with it, his passion ignited. Such a small thing he felt, something he'd never felt before. Passion. What was it? The kindle burned in his chest, a fire that would never go out. He felt free.

The two of you stared at each other, before Izuru slowly stood, your hands still clasped together, your souls both finally free of searching, of tugging. He was mesmerised by you. You thought of everything you'd been through. 

Fire and water were opposites, and yet no matter which element your soul reflected now, you had to make your peace. 

“...I was in insurmountable pain for a very long time.” You said. A boldness ripped through you. Yet your next words- ”You should make it up to me.” -were stolen from your throat at Izuru, not quite understanding what he was doing in his new passionate delirium, pulled you forward and swept you into a tight hug. On instinct, you responded in kind.

All was silent for a few moments, before Izuru spoke again. His voice was shaky from his nervousness, but his newfound passion simmer underneath it all. He damned himself for being so shy, but this time, he was going to push himself to show you comfort. 

“Never again.” His throat was hoarse. Hands once used for worry and work found their new purpose grasping you close to him. “No more pain.”

No more pain. How you'd longed for that for so long. How you'd longed for midnight under the moon where you didn't feel as if you'd lose your soul to such agony within it. How you'd longed to take it out on him, to scream and yell for the pain he'd unwittingly caused. And yet. Such a cool flow of water filled you, such a rush of comfort from his words washed over you, so much so you couldn't be mad anymore. How could you? How could you be so angry at the person whose first words to you was “never again”?

Izuru finally felt a flash of discomfort from the sudden hug he initiated. He stepped back but slid his hands to your ribs. You suppressed the urge to jump. You had ticklish ribs. He looked into your eyes before looking away, so red in the face he could barely talk anymore. 

For a moment, all was still. Then, in a moment of weakness you'd never felt, a tender kind you wished to explore during softer, quieter midnights, you began to speak.

“...you're-”

With a bang, the door to the printing press room slammed open. 

“I'm sick and tired of leaving you be, and ignoring the pain of someone who's one of my best seated officers-” Muguruma was yelling, but stopped. You turned your head and scowled.

That insufferable prick. 

Your souls, two lost souls now joined in what would blossom into such a pure love ordained by the universe itself, were still fire and water. You two balanced each other. As Izuru found out less than ten seconds later, after you gently pulled away from him, you would need plenty of water to cool down after you had a shouting match with Captain Muguruma. It was such a sight to see that even Shuhei and Mashiro stopped fighting to come and investigate the source of your yelling. To be fair, nobody had ever seen you explode like this. Shuhei and Izuru locked eyes, and as Izuru dissolved into embarrassment, wishing he could hide away, Shuhei felt himself grinning for his friend. 

It did nag in the back of Shuhei's mind on how on earth shy, quiet, water-like Kira was soulmates with the embodiment of sheer rage and hellfire. 

“Opposites attract,” He murmured to himself. Mashiro giggled.

“Maybe Captain Muguruma is soulmates with me if that's the case.” 

“...you're out of you goddamn mind if you think-”

Two fights broke out in the printing press room, both of which Izuru wanted to run and hide from. Yet he couldn't take his eyes off of your form, how you gestured as you and Muguruma argued loudly. He wondered if he should get you a glass of water for your throat. You were certainly yelling loud enough…

Then you drew your sword just as Muguruma did and he decided to leave it be for now. 

At the very least, Izuru could provide you with water during the midnights you would steal in the future, soft kisses that were stolen in the dark, and gentle sighs turned into moans when he finally felt such a flame burn away his gentle water in his soul. Seeing you spent and satisfied brought him more satisfaction and joy than anything else. Afterwards, he always brought you a big glass.

[lokfeedsthegays]

WUKO WEEK 2024!!! :D!!!!!

Prompt: ANGST + AU

yes this is my miraculous au I’m cringe but I’m free

[CW: violence & implied homophobia]

-

It was personal. That was the first thing Mako thought upon seeing him.

The unfortunate consequences of their situation weren’t secret. Fighting people- usually innocent people, having their minds warped and twisted into near-cartoonish villainy- it was never pleasant. But if he didn’t think too much about it and got it done, it didn’t weigh on him too heavily. And they at least didn’t have the memory intact of him and his friends beating the shit out of them.

Naturally, it was harder to digest if it was someone he knew personally. Even more so someone he liked. Maybe more than liked, but he didn’t have the emotional capacity to process that at the moment.

They were taking a high perch on a building, trying to survey the threat. The threat, this time, being a friend of theirs’. Or what was left of him. How much truth was in akuma victims’ monologues and threats was an ongoing debate- and one Mako didn’t like. He tried not to care. He knew it wasn’t them, so that was all that mattered.

And it was easier to separate the slow-striding figure on the street below from the jovial, theatrical person he knew in his civilian life.

Long, ornate robes flowed on the asphalt, green and gold, his entire body ornamented with at least times the usual amount of jewelry that Wu normally wore, which was saying something. Mako could practically hear the clinking from where he was. His hands, normally soft and gentle, seemed to have gold growing out of them from the knuckles, coalescing and twisting together into hooked claws. Really, gold seemed to have replaced his veins, with branches of it swimming through his skin, which was grayed and pale and sickly-looking. Inhuman.

He had a crown. A pointed, heavy-looking, so ornate it was hard to process crown. And his eyes were like pearls- white and empty.

He scanned the abandoned street, pausing for a moment before continuing on his way. Every step was methodical, almost robotic, and regal to the point of sheer pretension. The only sign of emotion was the seconds of a grimace when he found no-one. Did he want people to be there? To watch him, maybe?

Where the last of his robe left, gold made the trail, making a signature of his presence wherever he went. And it let Mako know that they shouldn’t just go in and kick him. Not if they wanted to be solid gold in less than a second.

Whatever his new name was (Mako didn’t care, he’d still call him Wu), Mako was sure it wouldn’t be the best idea to just jump down and say hi.

“So then what do we do?” Korra huffed after he voiced this out loud, partially to him and partially to herself. Her blue, cat-like eyes narrowed in sheer concentration. She took her metal staff and sat it across her knees, hunching over into a relaxed position.

“There has to be some kind of weak spot. None of the villains are impervious. We just have to find out where it is. I suggest we keep observing- maybe we can find his object and…fish it out or something.”

”He’s covered in jewelry and ornamentation,” Asami piped up, her red cape folding as she leaned back. Her red, spotted outfit complimented Korra’s black suit as they slumped against each other. “We have to figure out which is the one holding the butterfly, but…I don’t know how to do that.”

“We could ask him,” Bolin provided, and Mako resisted a mean glare. Bolin blinked back at him through his green visor.

“No, Bolin, we’re not going down to the supervillain and asking him what his weakness is.”

“Well if we can’t think of anything else, why not?” Bolin said. “Besides, we can’t predict how they are. He might actually tell us. Wu’s a nice guy.”

”So are most of the people who get turned into villains,” Asami reasoned. “It doesn’t mean he’ll be nice now. He’s not in control; we have to be smart about this.”

“It seems like he’s looking for civilians,” Mako said, placing his fingers around his chin. “If we walk up to him like this, no doubt he’ll attack. But maybe one of us could go up undisguised. See if he’ll be calmer. But that’s a backup plan…I’d rather none of us get put in the path of danger.”

”Seems like a good plan to me,” Korra interjected, lowering herself and creeping closer to the edge, trying to get a better look at him. “We can’t just sit up here and watch him.”

”Well…yes we can,” Mako said slowly.

”And what if someone goes up to him and gets in trouble? We’ll just see what he does?”

”Well, no, but I-“

We don’t have time to waste watching him. We gotta do something, and now, before he does anything bad.”

”Well then what do you suggest?” Mako responded, his temper mounting.

”I suggest your first plan. I bet he’d say at least something with you down there. He likes you.”

”When he’s sane he does! I don’t know how he’ll-“

”C’mon, just go. We’ll be here to intervene if he does anything.”

”And get yourselves turned into statues? I’d rather not.”

”You don’t know that!”

Well we also don’t know-!”

”Just GO!” Korra cried, seeming as if she was one word away from smashing her head into the roof. “You’ll be fine. You’re smart and he’s got a big fat crush on you.”

”He does not-“

”Detransform, dude.”

Mako did as he was told, but not without a sour expression the entire time. Magical energy flowed off of him, leaving him vulnerable, and he promptly made his way down the building’s stairs, hurrying through and out the side door, dipping into the alleyway. He slid along the wall until he could peek around the corner, getting a closer look at Wu.

Safe to say, he grew a bit. Maybe there were some kind of insane platforms under that robe, but he was easily taller than Mako now, making him (unfortunately) more imposing. His now-gold plastered hands were curled into almost fists, and his face was locked in a grimace, making him look perpetually agitated.

He scanned the street again with his blank eyes, and Mako ducked out of view, making sure to tell his heartrate to slow the fuck down. Once he got that under control, he composed himself, checked to make sure his Miraculous was intact, then stepped out into the open.

Wu’s gaze immediately locked onto him within the second, piercing and almost wild. Mako suppressed a flinch, and decided to feign innocent surprise, his arms coming up in surrender. He let the moment sit, then squinted.

“…Wu?” he tried, covering the reach as slow recognition.

He prayed Korra was right, and that he wasn’t about to get swiftly and completely incapacitated.

Wu’s eyes narrowed before they widened, and even though his posture barely changed, he somehow seemed a little more relaxed. “Mako,” he breathed. “Finally. I was starting to think people were avoiding me.”

”What happened?” Mako asked, not daring to take a step closer.

“Oh, this?” Wu said, looking down at himself. As if Mako could be talking about anything else. ”A recent development. Does it look nice?”

Wu twisted a bit, showing off the intricate patterns of his robe.

”It’s…a lot,” Mako answered truthfully. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but your usual outfits are a little…tamer.”

Wu chuckled, and Mako took that for the leeway he hoped it was.

”But I mean- what happened to you? To make this happen…”

“Oh, nothing too bad, really,” Wu said, which was clearly a lie. “Just..family issues, mostly. Nothing revolutionary! But I suppose those issues are gone now.” He flexed his hooked fingers, the gold sparking in the sunlight. “Now I’m staking my claim, as it were.”

”What…happened to your family..?”

”My aunt? Hm. Well, she was being my aunt. That’s all. But the problem is solved, and she’s to be made an example of in my new domain.” Wu motioned out around them, and Mako’s expression sank.

“Wu, listen to me,” Mako said, his heart skipping a beat as he tried his luck, “there are people who can help you. You don’t want this, trust me. Are you hearing me?”

Wu smiled and strode closer, and Mako was frozen as Wu stopped right in front of him. Mako had to crane his neck to look up at him, which was absurd, and it only added to the heavy feeling in Mako’s chest.

”I love how you care,” Wu sighed, “but I’m alright. This is a new beginning for me! You’re my friend- you should be happy for me. You should join me on my coronation stroll. You can be made a high member in my court.”

Mako winced, his nose curling. “Wu, people are scared of you right now. You’re not yourself- just- let me help.”

“Mako! Chivalrous as ever, but trust me, everything is fine. Come with me- you’ll be safe, I promise.”

Wu reached out, his warped hand grasping Mako’s wrist. Mako tensed, preparing himself for the worst, but he quickly realized that nothing was happening. So it seemed Wu could control it- which could be beneficial if he played his cards right. Mako scanned his friend for any signs of a telltale object, but nothing stood out.

“But I don’t-“, Mako started to protest, but was cut off when Wu began his stride again, dragging him along the street. He tried to quell his panic, wanting anything but his friends to leap down there hastily. He could handle this- he just needed a bit more time.

”Now, I think we should find a decent point to declare this city’s new ruler. We can go to City Hall- a public assembly should be easy enough to gather with my talents. I’ll probably have to freeze the president, but, you know, necessities.”

“Wu-“

”Oh, and that name. I mean, it was nice while I had it, but that’s not who I am anymore. Someone at your station would call me ‘your highness’ but an exception can be made for you.”

”Wu- spirits- you don’t want to turn the president to gold! Just listen to me-“

The pressure on Mako’s wrist increased, and Wu’s smile dropped in an instant. “You know I love you, but you know you’re not exactly in a position to make requests. I’ll be happy to listen later, but right now I’m trying to do my job.”

“Please! Just- tell me where your object is- we can get you back to normal,” Mako pleaded, brushing off the disbelief at himself for using Bolin’s tactic. “This isn’t going to end well for anyone if you keep going. I know you know that!”

“Mako!” Wu shouted, his tone harshening into something unfamiliar. Mako jolted when he realized his feet were stuck to the ground. He looked down to see reflective gold rooting him to the spot. “You must stop arguing with me. Go with me, or stay here as a statue. Your choice, but that’s as far as my lenience will go.”

Mako clenched his jaw, his eyes darting around the robes, trying to find something significant. Anything significant at all. Transforming wouldn’t get him out of this mess- he had to be smart.

“Wait- I’ll go with you. I will, I’m sorry.” Uttering it made Mako want to hurl, but he needed more information. He hoped his friends could hear him.

”Hmmm. That’s what I thought,” Wu hummed, and the creeping gold quickly receded, letting Mako shake his feet out. “Not to worry. You’ve done a fine job protecting me in the past. It’s high time I return the favor.”

Wu began his stride again, and Mako had to hurry to keep up. He usually walked with a pseudo-haughty demeanor, but this was a full-on parade of privilege. This new Wu had no problem lifting his chin as high as he could without looking ridiculous, and all of his jewelry sparkled as he walked. That, coupled with his sterner than usual expression, remarkably gave off an air that was intimidating.

”So you…want to turn the president to gold?” Mako prompted.

”Yes. How else are people going to know that they have a new ruler?”

There were several leaps in logic there, but Mako would be remiss to point that out.

“My aunt claimed I was in no state to assume a position of power. She’s one to talk, though. She’s hardly the best queen ever. But no matter! She’s taken care of, and I’m proving that I am perfectly capable of commanding authority.” Wu chuckled contently at himself, then he looked down at Mako, his expression falling into a glare. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Mako swallowed. “Yes- yeah- I agree- yeah.”

As they continued on, Mako couldn’t help but let his gaze drift to the rooftops, a prickling feeling on his neck. And there were certainly people there, but not his friends looking out for him. Instead, it was the force, peering down with equipment and weapons, getting clear looks at them with binoculars.

He wasn’t surprised. The force tended to intervene on many akuma incidents, and now that there was a “hostage” involved, they’d definitely be a little more hands-on. But he didn’t like the risks it posed. Mostly the chance that Wu would get mad and lash out.

Mako wished Korra had let him think through their plan a little longer.

Most likely Wu had already noticed the police. Mako just had to make sure a fight didn’t break out. Hopefully Lin had enough patience to keep her men where it was safe.

“Wu-“

Wu harshly cleared his throat.

Mako stifled any potentially insulting noise. “Your…Highness, um, you’re not planning on hurting anyone, are you? I mean, you need people to rule, after all. Right?”

”Of course I will do my best, Mako, but people must also learn to respect me. If they get in my way, I must silence their protests. It’s only natural.”

No, it wasn’t natural. Especially coming out of Wu’s mouth. Mako at least had to admit to himself that it was one of the things he admired most about Wu. He was pragmatic. He was the last person to make things happen by force, but trying to remind him of that seemed fruitless.

“What happened? When you were transformed…were you arguing with your aunt?”

”Mmh. Not arguing so much as being berated by her. Nothing new, but I’d had a particularly unpleasant day, and she was more grating than usual. The cow kept going on and on about my responsibilities and lack of ability. I suppose I just…had enough of it. Next thing I knew, I had these powers. And she shut up very quickly.” Wu’s hand twitched, and Mako looked at the fingers that bore at least a dozen rings on the gold surface.

Squinting at them, he scanned each of the rings until one pricked a memory at the back of his mind. It was a smoothie date…outing. One of many. Mako remembered the excited grasp of Wu’s hand- he’d grabbed one of Mako’s fingers and dragged his arm up and down. He had that ring on- the duller one, with a dark green gem.

That didn’t definitively mean that it was the object with the butterfly in it, but it was a solid contender.

Luckily, the police didn’t bother them all the way to City Hall. Less luckily, there was a higher concentration of people deeper into the city, and they were less able to flee the scene when a clear supervillain showed up.

The mass of people gave a wide berth to the regal figure strolling through them, forming a sort of natural pathway in the way he was headed. Mako kept his head ducked, partially out of embarrassment, but he didn’t want to instigate too much with the crowd. One wrong move, and everyone in the square could be frozen solid.

As they made their way through, people scrambled to get out of the area. However, branching gold wormed its way through the earth, slithering out to the edges of the square and mounting on itself, forming swift walls. People screamed and tried to haul over as it was rising, but it was too tall too quickly, and they all promptly became caged in.

Mako couldn’t do much but stare in horror, regretting his decisions.

“Now that that’s settled!” Wu said satisfactorily, clasping his hands together, which clinked. He then turned to the stairway of the town hall making his way up. Mako tried to duck into the crowd to lose attention so he could transform, but Wu went ahead and grabbed his wrist, bringing him up with him.

Walking through a crowd and being intimidating was not a crime. But entrapment most certainly was, and now, unfortunately, the police had a blatant excuse to dive in.

Helicopter sounds finally made their way over the clamor of the screaming crowd, and Mako looked up to see a few amassing, and ropes streaming down to release the troops. This, Mako realized, was not the police force at all, but Raiko’s recently commissioned force: the AEF. Akuma Extermination Faction- which was about as friendly as it sounded.

Lin had made the smart play in laying low and getting a read on the situation. But Mako should’ve known to not trust Raiko to do the same.

He also couldn’t trust Raiko to concoct an effective program either, because the moments their boots hit the ground and their guns were pointed, gold shot at them through the concrete, swiftly encasing their boots, then crawling up until all that was left was a screaming statue.

It took a second, but the troops got smart enough to not land, and instead hovered, dangling from their aircrafts, weapons still pointed.

“Release the hostages, or immediate action will be taken,” a stern voice declared from a speaker.

Wu’s brow creased. “Better idea: Raiko! Get out here or your citizens will be nothing more than decorations! We have business to discuss.”

Mako tried a small attempt in wrenching his arm free, but Wu held on tight, and Mako couldn’t hope to brute strength his way out of it when his friend had powers and he didn’t. He’d have to have a discussion with Korra about their planning skills when this whole mess was over. If it was ever going to be over. Mako didn’t like how seemingly everything was suddenly going wrong.

“Stand down- people could get hurt here. Raiko’s forces aren’t coordinated enough!” Mako threw out. He didn’t know what else to do- not yet, anyway.

”Standing down is weakness,” Wu declared, his nose and lip curling. His grip tightened and Mako grunted in pain. Then, louder, “Standing down is out of the question! I’d hurry, if I were you. The odds aren’t in your favor.”

”Well they’re not in your’s, either!”

Mako looked up as his friends, led by Korra, descended onto the top of the steps, nearly crashing down on them. However, Wu ducked out of the way and found himself on the midway point of the stairs. Mako, having been pulled back with him, was now dangling from Wu’s grip, hanging just over the lower stairs, his hand getting redder.

Korra spun her staff, letting it fall behind her in an intimidation position, her suit’s ears flat against her head. “Let him and the rest of these people go. Then we can get right down to brass tacks.”

She held up her hand, brandishing her ring. “This is what you want, right? These were part of the deal?”

Wu stared unblinkingly at the jewelry.

“Well then come and get them. If you win, then who’s to stop you?”

Wu sat in complete stillness and silence for a moment, practically a statue himself. Then, finally, he slumped a little, but a tight smile worked its way onto his face. “No, I don’t think so. I have a proposal of my own.”

Wu dragged Mako forward, showing him off to his friends. Mako tried to tug free, but to no avail. “Give me your jewelry. The longer you take, the more people get frozen. Starting with him.”

Wu shoved him onto his knees, and Mako was immediately locked there, gold replacing his jeans. “Hey! No!” he grunted, his eyes instinctively and desperately searching for a solution.

”Stand down! Last warning!” the speaker-voice called from behind.

”NO! Let him go!” Bolin shouted, lifting his shield. “Right now!”

Gold encased his legs- became his legs. Mako began to feel the imminent panic of not being able to breathe. He uselessly struggled against his constraints, trying to calm his heart rate. “Wu! Please! Listen to me-!”

”That is not my NAME!” he screamed, his hands curling. He lifted his arms, the grand sleeves of his robe billowing out. “Clearly I’m not bluffing! You may stand down now or face the consequences!”

Asami’s yo-yo began spinning into a blur. “I guess we’re doing this the hard way,” she breathed, eyes narrowing in concentration.

”Open fire!”

”Mako!”

”WU-!”

Mako didn’t have the chance to see it all play out. In the moment just before his friends leapt forward to fight, everything went black, and his body went numb.

——

When he came to, it wasn’t from a rescue.

Instead, when he collapsed, his limbs finally free, it was pretty easy to realize that- besides Wu- he was the only one unfrozen in the entire square.

The gold wall had extended upwards, curling in and forming a mass of finger-like spikes, curving inwards in an incomplete sphere. People littered the ground, suspended in various displays of screams and desperation.

His friends were locked in almost picturesque poses. Bolin was on the ground, curling behind his shield. Asami was next to him, her yo-yo outstretched, the winding string made mesmerizingly still. And between them, completing the huddle, was Korra, on one knee and one hand stretched into the sky. Around her hand, black energy of an impending Cataclysm was aloft, not having been able to be put to use.

Mako grunted, trying to suppress his horror. He shifted, his joints popping, and he was able to see Wu- not too far away from him, sitting on the steps. His straight posture and air of authority was gone, replaced with sullenness. He was hunched over, his hands supporting his head.

Mako took a shaky breath. “What are you doing?” he managed to rasp out.

”Oh, just, coming up with a plan. I have to unfreeze them at some point to get their Miraculous. I just want to be prepared,” he sighed.

“And you unfroze me…why?”

”For company. Surely you knew my suspending you forever was a bluff.”

”…Not…really..”

”Well,” Wu started, standing up, “now you know. Welcome to my council.”

Mako looked around, his mouth pinched into a thin line. “Not much of a kingdom, is it?”

”It will be better,” Wu responded quickly.

”Will it?” Mako tilted his head to look up at Wu from his curled position. His back ached when he tried to sit up. ”It’s the ring, isn’t it?”

Wu folded his hands over each other, resting them on his chest.

Mako adjusted with a grunt, turning to sit on the step. When he realized one arm was shaking, he twisted so Wu couldn’t see. “You know whatever your aunt says…doesn’t matter, right?”

”I know that,” Wu snapped, that unnatural aggression surfacing again. “It’s in the past. We shouldn’t discuss it.”

”We should,” Mako insisted, against his better judgment. “I can tell you’re fighting it- or else we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

”We won’t be soon if you keep pushing it.”

”I’m not scared of you, Wu. I could never be scared of you.”

”Excuse me?” Wu’s expression curled, scrunching into something sour and foreign to his face.

”Even if that butterfly’s pushing you to, you don’t want to. Hurt me, I mean. So I’m not scared of you, and I know I can talk you out of this.” Mako knew he was talking out of his ass, but he didn’t have much more than confidence at the moment.

“Watch your tone with me,” he hissed, leaning in and over. “I am not the pathetic boy you knew. I am a king, and you will treat me like such.”

”That’s what you think you are?” Mako huffed. “Pathetic? That’s not at all what you are, Wu.”

”Not anymore.”

“You weren’t before…this either. Wu, you are one of the most creative, caring people I know. If…if your aunt hated that, that’s her problem- not yours.”

”I know that!” Wu said shortly, waving him off, his large sleeve trailing behind the motion. “I don’t wish to talk about this anymore. Quiet, before I force you to be.”

”Let me help you.”

”No. I’m keeping you. My power- with you by my side- that will prove everything she has ever said about me to be foolish. I’m not letting it go just because you said so.”

“With me? What makes me so important?”

Wu’s face tightened, clearly holding in a stream of confession. “You’re not. I just happen to like having you around.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Mako slowly stood, his mind slowly starting to click the pieces given to him together- like second nature. “I think you were antagonized by your aunt your whole life. I think…although I don’t know particularly why, this time pushed you over the edge. And that’s what the butterfly prayed on. It made that moral outrage you had ugly.”

Mako hobbled over to Wu, his joints still stiff. “But it’s not ugly. Hell, Wu, it’s one of the best things about you. You care, dude. A lot. Don’t let some thing take that away from you.”

Wu’s face relaxed from the enraged mask of insult, to something much more neutral and unreadable.

“Fine,” he hummed. “If you’re so desperate for the waste of space that I was, I can let you make a play for him. But if you lose, you stay with me. Forever, just like this.”

At least it was something. Mako swallowed. “Fine.”

”Very well, then.” Wu held out his glittering hand. “Take the right ring. And you can have him back.”

Mako tentatively stepped forward, his brow furrowed. He shifted his weight between his legs, eyeing the green-gem ring.

Wu would think it was a simple answer. Mako was observant. He knew what he has seen before, and he’d take that to its logical conclusion.

But what did it mean to Wu? His friend had always worn a strong variety of jewelry, each on his person simply for the fact that it was pretty. But he never talked about them like they meant something.

Except for one piece- one he wore only once, and simply because he had to. It was for a political event. One that a foreign prince, who’s tenure in Republic City hinged on his education, would be obligated to go to.

A brooch his aunt had forced him to wear to look presentable.

And there it was, on his robe. Mako forced himself to not look directly at it, and instead feigned scanning the rings. Even if Wu wanted out, the butterfly wasn’t going to let him. If Mako simply pointed at or grabbed the brooch, Wu would fight back and stop him in an instant.

Mako took a deep breath and slid the green-gem ring off of Wu’s finger.

Wu let out a low, pitying note. “I’m afraid that’s the wrong one, Mako.”

“I’m sorry this happened.”

”Excuse me?”

”I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to be targeted for all this. Not just your aunt, but so many people. It’s unfair.”

”For…this…?”

”For who you are. You- underneath all this…gold- you’re incredibly compassionate, innovative and empathetic. Everyone who tells you otherwise is lying.

”Sweet, but meaningless now.”

”I don’t think so.” In a swift motion, Mako snatched the brooch, ripping the opulent fabric of the robe. Wu screamed, lunging forward in rage. But his surprise made him too slow, and Mako whipped around, throwing the brooch away from the stairs.

It landed against Korra’s hand, right into the Cataclysm.

The brooch dissolved into black dust, and an aura of dark energy surrounded Wu, releasing him. He fell from his tall perch, and Mako caught him- the real him.

Wu opened his eyes. Green. “Mako?” he breathed wistfully. He tilted his head. “Where am I? Am I dead?”

Mako rolled his eyes, sighing fondly.

[uuuhhmmm124]

Young Izumi doodles ispired by my Izumi Avatar AU fanfic.

These are part of the comic which was the draft for chapter 4

i tried to give her Mai's eyes but it's hard:')

Plus

Random young Pema doodle from the fic

[cell151]

The Avatar & The Engineer

Chapter 13: Book 2: Storm on the Horizon

Artwork by @jadequarze​

After an unintentional and absurd hiatus of two years, I have finally one of my longer running fics. Finally with Book 1 done it now is time to tackle Book 2.

Months have passed since the failed Equalist uprising. Team Avatar have been largely apart from one another, each trying to return to some form of normality and stability. Asami works to regain her bending abilities, Korra buries herself in work while Future Industries stagnates, Mako pursues a new career while Bolin tries to recapture old glory.

When Korra is sent home to Southern Water Tribe to broker a business deal with an eccentric millionaire, Asami and the rest of the gang decide to tag along. But Asami begins to have visions of something sinister on the horizon.

Deepest apologies for the long wait. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it and what better way than to post it on the anniversary of LOK’s finale.

As always comments and reblogs are kindly appreciated. Special thanks again to JadeQuarze for the fantastic artwork.

I hope you enjoy.

[thatcatangelwriter]

Welp the vigilante asami brainrot has begun

[dynamic8ball]

"The Girl in the Iceberg" synopsis/trailer

Before I introduce to the world of Tumblr and possibly beyond of what I'm about to write, I just wanna say what this "synopsis/trailer" thing is. You all know what a movie or TV show trailer is, right? Well I'm about to (sort of, maybe?) do it for a fanfic that I've been adoring for the past several months. A Legend of Korra fic titled "The Girl in the Iceberg" by RainbowRosieS (I'm not them by the way. I'm just promoting it because I love it so much as a reader) on AO3. Here's a link to it if you just want to skip my ramblings, but I just want to get this out because 1) I love this ongoing fic to death and 2) I could use the exercise for writing 3) I want to do it for fun. https://archiveofourown.org/works/44664853/chapters/112368748

Republic City, present day.

The hustle and bustle of Republic City is alive and well. Motor vehicles deafen the streets and boulevards; brands such as Satomobile and Cabbage Car making up the majority of the automobile market. Airships float high above the metropolis overseeing the urban landscape. The inner-city's ship yards teem with union dockworkers mooring ships to shore, lifting and transporting crates by hand off incoming ships, evaluating inventory and inspecting ships that prepare for yet another journey.

All this with the ever-growing city skyline sitting still yet tall in the background, unsuspecting of what a mere anthropology major has brought to these shores. She was no ordinary anthropology student: for one she was regarded as an outlier to the profession. Many regard Asami Sato with wariness and skepticism as an up and coming anthropologist, a field, like many others during this time, dominated by the male demographic. Many already know who she is - or better yet, who she is related to. The daughter to automobile magnate, Hiroshi Sato, Asami has grown to develop a passion for the field she studies at Republic City University. A passion, like many other things, she shares with her late mother, Yasuko.

It was unfortunate - tragic, Asami thought - that her mother couldn't be here to share this breakthrough with her. Asami, reservedly, has never been much of a religious person; her beliefs more or less relied on the laws of physics and what has been proven to be possible. But she could only pray that her mother could somehow see this. Her biggest discovery thus far in her young career and still in university.

On the surface, it just looked like a giant iceberg had been dragged all the way from one of the poles from the ship's stern. Asami's calculations proved to have been mostly accurate with how much the ice would melt over the course of their month-long voyage back home from the Southern Water Tribe without losing any precious cargo still frozen within the ice. This trek had been a long time coming; adversity from her skeptical colleagues and university staff, along with many sleepless nights studying numerous sites and artifacts for her expedition as the basis for her master's thesis had all been worth it thus far.

More work was to be done, for sure. The iceberg was to be craned and shipped to a nearby warehouse that her father owned by the docks. Then it would be a matter of time before her team chipped away at the melting ice and discovered more of what lay inside. Back at the South Pole, Asami could already tell roughly what sat inside was a woman in heavy furs surrounded by clubs and spears suspended within the ice along with a canoe and some unidentifiable white form that lay next to the woman.

Asami kept her excitement in check and expectations tempered as she should show respect for the dead and expect mild results and let the subjects of her studies surprise her. Little did Asami know that she was in for a surprise the likes of which hadn't been seen in recorded history and was long forgotten by the world at large. A generational being frozen for millennia and more, lost to time and history. The myth that turned true.

The girl in the iceberg had waited long enough.

__________

The Avatar is a myth. A tale of bygone eras where people possessed the power to control and bend the elements around them like it was an extension of themselves. The Avatar, born with the power to bend the four elements, was thought of as the bridging spirit between the material world and the spirit world.

Today, spirits are nowhere to be found. Bending has become extinct. The Avatar has long since disappeared.

History roughly remembers who some of the few Avatars were, or at least just by name. The last of these Avatars mysteriously vanished off the face of the Earth over 9,000 years ago, leading many through the annals of time to speculate: Was the Avatar cycle broken? Where could they might've gone? Did the Avatar even exist at all?

Bending and the spirits, too, are questioned to have existed. Throughout the centuries, humans have relied more on practical tools instead of hokey superstition. Evolving technology from stone tools to eventually reaching the industrial age. Beliefs and religion have shifted significantly as well through millennia. The most notable religion, the Church of Raava, has followers spanning the globe in millions. Believing Raava is an all seeing and knowing deity, he supposedly grants access to the after life in the spirit world to those who were devout in the church's beliefs, escaping the cycle of reincarnation.

The world itself is mostly the same geographically. New nations have risen and fallen with varying connections to one of each of the four elements. Bloody wars have been waged with clubs, spears, swords up until the invention of the firearm, shaping combat to be more distanced and deadly. The most recent Great War saw the introduction of the machine gun along with chemical weaponry when the world's powers collided in ruthless trench warfare.

Even with that war over, conflict still ravages the Earth Empire in a gruesome civil war. While the United Republic is experiencing relative prosperity since their arms ceased, trouble looms for immigrants fleeing from the Earth Empire civil war as living conditions worsen in Republic City. Aid groups such as the Red Lotus try and offer help to those in need, even when faced with the threat of Amon's separatists. The separatists' focus is forcing anyone who's not a United Republican out, dismantling the concept of the UR as a melting pot of cultures to establish isolationist peace and prosperity between cultures.

Problems and conflicts continue to mount for Republic City and the rest of the world. Resolutions seem to be growing scarcer by the day as millions still suffer. Perhaps the Avatar, master of all four elements, could save them. So much time had past, though, that the world almost looked unrecognizable to Korra. Without an Avatar for the time she was frozen, the world fell out of balance. And though this brave new world looks very bleak, she hasn't lost hope. Especially when her new hope had discovered her frozen in the iceberg and set her free.

Asami Sato didn't know it yet, but the ancient Water Tribe girl she had released was more than a capable warrior, she held the last hope for balance to be restored. And although her bending skills were great, Korra has a lot more to learn about this world before she should reveal herself to anyone. When the time comes, those that have come to know her will believe that Korra can save the world.

Again, here's the link to the story. https://archiveofourown.org/works/44664853/chapters/112368748

20 chapters are already out with 166,284 words already typed. Updates have been steadily published every Tuesday. If you got an account on AO3, please read it and if you like it, give it a Kudos and leave a comment to the proper author. If no AO3 account, Kudos and comment anyways.

I might do another for other fanfics that I like and enjoy. I've read enough in over a year's time that I could probably rank them in tiers or something that people do, right? Got a ton of LoK fanfic recommendations so go ahead and ask if you want my opinion or whatever.

See yall whenever!

[jade-of-mourning]

Tenzin stares down at the scowling, scrawny kid. He's dressed in a patched grey shirt bound hastily at the forearms, equally-patched trousers hanging off his frame despite the long length of his skinny legs, and his feet are currently bare aside from some more dirty wrappings around the arch and heel. A shockingly red scarf loops around his neck, several times too-big and frayed at the ends. He's maybe fourteen or fifteen despite the heavy grey lines underscoring his features, because there's a familiar despair written in the recurring story — prominent cheekbones sticking out of his thin, pointy face, lips chapped and pale from the freezing winter nights of Republic City, gold-flecked brown eyes glaring back at him defiantly. 

And he's in a pair of handcuffs.

"So this is the one, you say," he addresses to the woman standing next to him. Her arms are crossed against her chest, a glare plastered across her face — precisely mirroring that of the scrappy boy handcuffed to the table in front of them. They're having an intense stare-down.

If he didn't know any better, he'd almost think this was her kid.

(But he knows all too well that he's not.)

Lin Beifong scowls. "Fucker tried to hit Jian with lightning after spotting her during a stakeout on a Triple Threats warehouse. He then managed to single-handedly fight off three officers while the rest of the gang bailed, looking like a feral, lightning-happy pyromaniac while at it —" The feral, lightning-happy pyromaniac looks pleased for a moment, before promptly dropping back into a glower "— and when I sent a cable at him from the back, he shot a pillar out of the concrete ground to block it."

"How do you know it was him?" Tenzin asks. 

"I know the motions. I am an earthbender, in case you forgot."

"Perhaps there was another man waiting behind to assist his escape, who earthbent the ground upon seeing his comrade in danger."

Lin grunts. "The team split when the cowards scrammed, and managed to capture a few of the accomplices. None of those fleeing were in the vicinity by the time the incident occurred."

"There could have been more of them involved than just the ones you saw fleeing the scene," Tenzin suggests.

"We were in the middle of a stakeout, Tenzin. If you need a definition, a stakeout is a period of time where the police conduct surveillance on —"

Tenzin cuts her off, conceding before she can keep going on at him. "Understood. But how can you know for certain that there weren't other members coincidentally passing through who elected to lend a hand?"

Lin acknowledges the point; the outside world doesn't come to a standstill when there's a fight inside. "One of the captured men said that the kid is Zolt's protege, which adds up with the frequency of which I see him in the aftermath of incursions. They're shamelessly bitter about him being the boss' favorite, and they clearly don't hold any well-regards towards him, so they don't have reason to offer assistance, aside from attempting to curry favor from a fourteen year old — and no faces were shown to that point, so that's out of question. Besides, they're gangsters. What sense of loyalty to each other do you really think they have?"

"More than you've got to the city." Both Tenzin and Lin whip their heads around in surprise at the low, raspy voice, having forgotten of the boy's presence during their back-and-forth. He looks almost like he wants to curl inwards on himself, but instead raises his chin higher up and manages to glare at them with even more force, if possible. "You police ain't done shit for us. You're all the same purposefully ignorant bastards. That's how we get here, but you knew that." The subject of we goes unsaid; all three of them in the closed metal room know precisely what he's talking about.

"So are you saying that one of your loyal friends stayed behind and bent that earth for you?" Lin demands, ignoring the jab at her dignity. Tenzin knows she's retracted the heel of her uniform, searching for a heartbeat.

The boy leans back in the chair flippantly. "Nah," he says curtly. "They're smart enough. None of 'em would stick 'round for me." It's contrary to the earlier claim of mutual loyalty, but unsurprising.

"So it was you," Tenzin concludes.

"I never said it was."

"Then who else could it have been?" The frustration is bubbling up in him, the way it always has since he was a kid; Dad had always laughed and said that he must've gotten it from his mother, quick to anger and full in force, but Tenzin has never been able to quell the feeling down despite his best efforts to be more like his father.

"Bet it was one of your cop cronies." There's something intense and unhinged and wild in the kid's half-pyrite eyes, almost glowing in the gleeful challenge. "Pro'ly got bored of the metal rod permanently stuck up your ass n' thought it'd be funny if —"

"Young man! You will not speak of —"

"I'm jus' sayin' —"

"Enough." Lin slams her fist down on the table, and the light in the boy's eyes dims in an instant. "I've had enough of your hog-monkey shit. Either you be straight with me and we can settle this quickly, or I'm holding you here as long as I deem necessary."

Which can be a very long time, goes unsaid.

Tenzin inspects the kid carefully, sees the minute way his shoulders slump down, and suddenly, all he can see in front of him is Jinora, hunching in on herself as her parents lecture her about not feeding her dinner to the sky bison. He doesn't know why — after all, this is a lightning-bending gangster, almost certainly raised by the streets in poverty and desperation; he couldn't be further from Tenzin's family.

But.

He's still just a kid.

Beneath all that bravado, those bitter, biting words, the degenerate behaviour that brought him here in the first place, the skin stretched too-thin over bones jutting out of his face — the harsh exterior is made to protect a kid who's seen too much. Tenzin knows that for certain.

And Tenzin is suddenly tired, because the boy is right. There's a reason that kids like him run with gangs, learn to fight dirty and low and vicious, and he's not naive enough to believe that it's not in-part due to their own failure as adults in power. He places a hand on Lin's shoulder — a silent request for her to step back and trust him. She looks over at him, green eyes meeting blue, and he's struck by how beaten down she looks by this conversation despite her infallible presence. Despite their time away from each other, despite the inevitable fallout that halved their world together like a splintering ravine and left no chance of reprieve, she knows him. 

She steps back.

Tenzin seats himself at the table as Lin moves to the corner of the room. Takes a deep breath to steady himself, tries to channel the way his father always made people feel like everything would be alright. "Young man," he says in a reasonable tone, "please, let's try again. Would you be willing to tell me your name?"

"It's —"

"Mako," the boy interjects before Lin can finish for him, take his autonomy, eyes dropping to the table. There's an unmistakable air of defeat around him, one at total odds of the snapping, feral boy described and seen from before. "My… My name's Mako. Why's it matter to you?"

Tenzin nods resolutely, ignoring the question. "Well, Mako. I have a proposal for you — one that should keep you out of the police station." 

A raised eyebrow.

Once it's out of his mouth, he can't retract it. He knows that there will be consequences for speaking without consulting Pema, Lin, his kids.

But his heart is telling him that this is right. Not just that it's the right thing to do, but also that the kid sitting handcuffed to the table in front of him is the Avatar. He can see it in his eyes, hard and resentful and gold-brown and so different from his father's, yet still the same in some inexplicable way. Reconciling the idea of this lightning-bending gangster of a street kid with the man who co-founded this city is… overwhelming, and Tenzin would almost rather blow this situation off and let himself live in remembering his father for who he is, not for whoever Mako turns out to be. But Tenzin has a duty to the world, and a duty to his father, and so he will ensure that he does the new Avatar right.

"I would like to invite you to stay on Air Temple Island for the time being. We can discuss the objective after I am able to gather the resources necessary to run an evaluating test. Do you accept?"

Mako glances over at Lin; Tenzin resists the urge to do the same. He doesn't need her approval for this — it's his home, and he knows what he's doing. He can't read the thoughts behind the boy's eyes as they flick between the two adults who hold an infinite amount of power over him, can't follow what internal strife might be occurring in his head.

Then Mako shrugs, an abrupt, jerky motion. "Sure."

Lin Beifong throws her hands up in the air, and leaves the interrogation room. She can't be bothered to deal with this; it's five in the morning. She needs some fucking sleep.

my ao3 (but it's not posted there)

sorry this was a crack idea i had while practicing piano and i had to crank it out. i Might write a series of oneshots on this if i get too inspired lol (similar to what empty shores was supposed to be)

yes bolin is alive in this au, yes i have an unfortunate amount of ideas, yes i'm still writing my normal conceivable-to-complete fics.

if tenzin thought korra was hard to work with, he is going to have a blast with mako, who comes pre-packaged with fifty times more trauma that korra had when she pulled up to air temple island. (and is also prone to stealing, and running away, and murder as necessary, probably.) (this is going to be so terrible on all sides until it gets better!)

[biconickyoshi]

I started to think about the LOK and it got me thinking, are Aang and Zuko going out togheter? Cause just thinking of Aang going first and Zuko being alone without him? Yeah it makes me cry😭😭

And when he meets Korra just imagining him feeling like the song Cant Catch Me now, when he just sees Aang everywhere

Ugh yeah you’re not the only one, I was already distraught when I watched LoK back when it premiered thinking about how sad Katara must be. It makes me even more sad with Zuko because even in canon we’re told how close the two became after the war - I’m fairly certain they were each others’ best friends, and Aang may have been one of the few people Zuko was truly close to aside from his mom and Iroh.

So yeah… I have plans for my LoK continuation of my AU… yes there will be angst, but without spoiling anything, there will be a light at the end of the tunnel for both of our boys :)

[fistfuloflightning]

[astrid-goes-for-a-spin]

well it’s late but i did write a tiny bit for wip wednesday

“I came out this afternoon to invite Korra to watch the opening match with me,” Asami says brightly.

Tenzin stares, looking very worried. “Korra, are you sure that’s…a good idea?”

And then suddenly Korra’s discomfort and confusion is gone again beneath all her roiling anger. “What, Bei Fong’s security is good enough for Mako and Bolin, but not good enough for the Avatar?” Hands twitching into fists, Korra crosses her arms belligerently. “Besides, what’s he going to do, take my bending?”  

[reinerispretty]

atla + lok masterlist

all of this is from around 2020-2021, so pls keep that in mind when reading :) i promise i've improved lol. links within fics may be inactive!

zuko

rotations (x f!reader fic)

tea shop zuko

katara's twin sister

fighting azula

fire dancer

burned

dreams

secret admirer

sokka

beneath the moon (x f!reader fic)

ocean kumquats

flirt

firebender reader

groceries (modern!AU), pt 2

just a little jealous

bolin

hold me

bridal style

comfort

hungry

mako

almost kings (fantasy au)

drive

warm hands

iroh ii

welcome home

azula

banished

asami

campus

reminiscence (unknown x f!reader fic)