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azucanela · 4 years ago

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Hi! i’d like to request a Zuko x Reader oneshot please and it takes place a few years after he’s crowned as the Fire Lord: Zuko is entering suitable age for marriage and yet he has no one that he likes enough to take as his queen, what if Uncle Iroh hired the reader whom is a famous matchmaker that usually arranges the courting & marriage between nobles, but instead of all these ladies that she threw at him he ended up falling for her instead but he’s just so awkward and inexperienced Thank u

INAMORATA | ZUKO X READER

SUMMARY: after a few years of being Fire Lord, Zuko still hasn’t found a companion. so naturally, when Iroh comes upon a matchmaker, he does what he does best and helps Zuko out by hiring her to help him find someone. and inadvertently... iroh ends up playing matchmaker himself.

WORD COUNT: 12.6k

WARNINGS: mentions of death, death threats, kissing, pining, very mild innuendos, blood, injuries, crying

A/N: this is literally art omg i feel kinda honored to be seeing this ngl and i ended up researching matchmaking and they’re basically therapists that help you find love?? kinda. the profile thing is something that some matchmakers do and idk i have fun analyzing zuko so

in·am·o·ra·ta/iˌnaməˈrädə/

noun

a woman with whom one is in love or has intimate relations.

ATTEMPT ZERO

After years of being the Fire Lord, Zuko had come to realize the job was pretty basic if you thought about it long enough. There were just a few major things to deal with. First, there’s the internal relations, like the civil wars and uprising he deal with at the start of his reign because people disliked his ways. Then there’s the external relations, Zuko worked alongside Aang to repair those, helping the Southern Water Tribe rebuild itself from the ground up, and hosting meetings between the nations, friendly and work related. Those are the more diplomatic aspects of the job, and sadly, even as a ruler who sought to end a war, there was still violence in the world.

When Aang and the rest of Team Avatar ended the One Hundred Year War, that only exposed a variety of other problems within the world, problems that the team seeked to end. There were people out there who disliked this line of thinking, and similarly wanted it to end, but ending the lives of Team Avatar.

Zuko was used to the death threats, and the assassination attempts. He’d had a security detail in place to ensure he lived to rule his nation, this was especially necessary since he lacked an heir and the only other people eligible for the throne were an old man who ran a tea shop and a psychopathic teenage girl in a mental institution. This is where the social aspect of the job came in, the part that Zuko had never been good at. The Galas and the girls who threw themselves at him, the nobility of all nations that approached him offering their children’s hand in marriage. Zuko was an enigma, a young and powerful bachelor, and now all the nobles with children were lining up for a minute alone with him to try and sell their own kids.

It disgusted him. The way they treated their children like cattle reminded Zuko of his own father, how willing he was to get rid of Zuko since he had a replacement on standby. Though, Zuko sincerely doubted he ever would’ve gotten the throne if Ozai had a choice, even if he hadn’t been banished.

Alas, even Zuko could recognize the urgency of it, the death threats weren’t letting up, and the assassination attempts were only getting more and more elaborate, leaving Zuko wondering when they’d no longer be attempts. He needed and heir, or at least a wife who could rule alongside him and take over entirely in the event of his death.

The problem was, he didn’t want this.

He was in a unique position, where the person he married would have an immense effect on society, on politics. If it was an Earth Kingdom girl, then maybe the years of violence against their people could be mended sooner, and they could begin working together to combat a variety of issues. If he ends up with a Fire Nation girl, it could be viewed as strengthening the traditional ideals of Fire Nation independence and sovereignty because the Fire Nation is “supreme.”

Dating was political now and he hated it. It wasn’t like Zuko wanted to be alone, it’s just that now everything mattered far more than it used to. Of course, even as a prince it had been the same, but now that he was the Fire Lord, things seemed to be ten times worse. Perhaps it was excessive but Zuko couldn’t help but feel paranoid whenever a new person entered his life, he couldn’t help but assume that they were just using him for some other agenda.

Of course, his friends had tried to assure him this wasn’t always the case, and they’d even made attempts to set him up with girls. All of which had failed. Zuko knew he wasn’t an easy person, much less an easy person to date. As Fire Lord, a lot of his time was taken up by meetings, and diplomatic missions, and not-so-diplomatic missions alongside Team Avatar. That and he was rather awkward when it came down to most social interactions, though he’d improved over time, especially as the ruler of a nation, his speeches were elegant and so was the way he negotiated with other kingdoms.

And yet he struggled to talk to strangers.

Iroh seemed to be tired of this as well, he’d sent Zuko several letters in regards to his lack of romance, insisting that he was a “handsome young man” that had “lots of potential” and he was “wasting” his prime with so much work. Zuko didn’t consider managing a country as a waste, though he understood where Iroh was coming from, Zuko probably should’ve been spending time with friends, going to clubs. Not saving the world.

Regardless, there wasn’t much he could do about, he didn’t have time for dating, and Zuko wasn’t willing to compromise his morals and beliefs just for an heir in the event that he got brutally murdered. He refused to raise a child just for that purpose. He learnt the hard way that you should only have kids if you intend to cherish them. And the idea of marrying someone just to strengthen his nation felt wrong, though he could see the benefits.

God, he hated being Fire Lord sometimes.

On the other hand, Y/N L/N liked her job. Amongst the nobility of the Earth Kingdom, she was a rather famous woman, Y/N had brought together some of the most powerful couples in the country. A lot of people owed her favors, and the money that came with the job was more than satisfactory. If Y/N had to guess, she was one of the richest people in the kingdom, considering how much people were willing to pay to fine “the one.” Her business had been rather successful since she’d gotten renowned in the inner ring of the city, and now, Y/N was considering expansion, to the Fire Nation. The borders had long since reopened, when the new Fire Lord came into power.

A whole new set of nobles for her to profit from.

She’d decided to head to a high end tea shop in celebration of her choice to expand her business. Y/N had heard it was only for the best, since the tea shop served the best. One of her clients had insisted that someone of her esteem try the tea there, given that she was the best in her own profession.

So, here she was. It was a nice place, she wouldn’t deny, and Y/N had heard of the shop before. The Jasmine Dragon, run by some old guy who’d appeared in Ba Sing Se just before the war ended with some major talent when it came to brewing tea. The interior was fancy, but not excessive, several people were already seated within. Y/N even recognized one of the couples there, who waved at her enthusiastically, “hello! Lady L/N, how lovely to see you!” One of them called out.

Y/N smiled at them, “how are you two?”

The other beamed at her as she responded, “oh we’re just lovely! Preparing our wedding invitations and one of them has your name on it.” This wasn’t abnormal, most of the couples she’d brought together attributed their love to her. In actuality, Y/N found that if you found two people with compatible personalities, then they’d work things out on their own. All she did was introduce them.

“I’m excited!” Y/N assured, moving past their table, “now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to try this famous tea. But, I’m looking forward to the invite.”

The pair nodded, before returning their attention the friends seated across from them, and Y/N made her way to the front of the shop, bag of coins in hand. An older man stood behind the counter, a smile on his face as he brought his attention to her, “what can I get you today Miss...”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.” She replied, small smile on her face as she looked at the menu, “what’s your name?” Y/N asked, meeting his eyes to see the flicker of recognition within them before returning her gaze to the menu.

He nods slowly, “I’m Iroh, and you’re a matchmaker, no?” He’d recognized the name, her business had begun gaining traction amongst the nobility of the Earth Kingdom shortly after the war, and she was one of the most sought after matchmakers in the nation. Iroh himself had looked into her business, seeing as his nephew was yet to find love in his chaotic lifetstyle.

Y/N smiled at him as she nodded, “indeed.” She placed the menu down, “any suggestions?”

“Perhaps, Jasmine tea?” He suggested.

Y/N nodded, “sounds good.” She places extends a hand with coins, dropping them into his palm, “so are you looking for love?” Though she was certainly famous for her skills, Y/N tended to work behind the scenes, and she was surprised to find this man recognized her.

A small laughed escaped him at her words as he shook his head, “no. I believe it is a little too late for that.” He was working on her tea beyond the counter, and Y/N began to wonder how he was steaming the tea pot when she noticed there was no stove beside him.

“Don’t say that! You seem like a fine man that anyone woman would want.” Y/N assured, though she now wondered why exactly this man knew who she was in the first place. It was rare for those outside of nobility to know who she was.

Turning around, his hand pressed to the pot that Y/N was positive had to have been burning his hand in some way, “oh, you’re too kind.” He replies, a small smile on his face as he poured a bit into a cup, “I was looking to help my nephew find love actually.”

“Really, now?” Firebending, that was the only explanation for the way this man was handling the tea. “I was looking to expand my business to the Fire Nation, perhaps I could help him out.” He didn’t hold himself the way most Earth Kingdom citizens did, and coupled with the possible Firebending, he was likely from the Fire Nation.

Iroh raises a brow at this, “what gave me away?” He stirs the tea a few times, before placing it on the counter for her to take.

Y/N shrugs, “it’s my job to know people well enough that I can find them a match.” Taking a sip of her tea, she smiles, “so this nephew of yours. He wouldn’t happen to nobility, would he?”

He laughs at this, pouring himself a cup of tea as well as he sighs, “actually, he is nobility. In a way.”

Now Y/N did not expect the nobility Iroh spoke of the be the nobility. As in the Fire Lord, the actual ruler of the entire nation, though this would certainly be great for business. Once the world hears of how Y/N found the Fire Lord, someone who had been notably difficult to woo apparently, a match, her business will be set.

“Isn’t this exciting, guys?” Y/N exclaimed, looking to her assistants, they were both on the younger side, Marcella and Evelyn. She’d brought them along since this would definitely be a valuable learning experience, and Y/N figured she’d need a lot of help if the Fire Lord was as difficult as they made him out to be. That and Y/N didn’t want to leave them alone in the Earth Kingdom, both of them had been orphaned at a young age. Y/N couldn’t help but relate to them, so when she’d come upon her newfound wealth, brought about by her job as a matchmaker, she’d taken the pair under her wing.

With a bag thrown over her shoulder, Evelyn simply nodded while Marcella exclaimed, “yes! I’ve always wanted to see the Fire Nation. Do you think we could find a client in one of the Water Tribes next?”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the young girl’s excitement, “if this goes well? We’ll be able to find clients anywhere.” She wasn’t wrong, Y/N had never had the opportunity to work with the actual Earth King, the true ruler of the nation. Now she was working with the ruler of a nation she’d never stepped foot in, entirely new customs and traditions to research, a new social structure, new everything.

What a fun challenge.

With a smile on her face, Y/N followed closely behind Iroh, the palace was stunning, she couldn’t deny it. And compared to the crumbling infrastructure of the lower rings of cities like Ba Sing Se, Fire Nation cities were prospering Fire Lord Zuko’s rule. From what she’d heard, things weren’t always this way.

“Y/N and I are going to wait here,” he gestured to the open space before them, dozens of paintings within it, “these two will take you to your rooms.” He explained to the pair of young girls, nodding to the servants beside them, who began to guide the young girls away.

Y/N’s eyes found their way to the paintings, the newest one being of the current Fire Lord, Zuko himself. She wondered how accurate the painting was, and seeing as she would be meeting him soon, Y/N figured she’d find out as she sighed, turning to Iroh, “so how does the original heir to the throne become the owner of an infamous tea shop?”

Iroh smiles to himself at her words, “age brings wisdom. And tea is a nice substitute for alcohol.” He jokes, though Y/N can see the pain in his eyes, along with admiration as he stares at Zuko’s portrait alongside her.

“Uncle!” A voice exclaimed, joy clear in his voice as he called out. Y/N watched as Iroh spun around, a broad smile on his face as he moved forwards to embrace the person.

He looked better in person, Y/N quickly decided, though the portrait did its job just as well. She wouldn’t deny he was attractive, but she already knew looks weren’t the issue. Iroh had informed her of the situation, Zuko’s constant rejection of any and every single person that approached him, and the stress he experienced because of the politics of it all.

“Nephew, it is good to see you,” Iroh said, releasing him from the hug, “how are you?” Initially he seemed fairly comfortable at the sight of just his Uncle, but as the Fire Lord’s body seemed to stiffen, Y/N realized she’d been spotted.

So, he wasn’t comfortable with strangers, “I’m alright Uncle... who is this?” He asked. There was an edge to his voice as he spoke, sizing Y/N up, not in the way you did for someone you were attracted to, but for an enemy.

Uncomfortable with new people, clear trust issues, and his mind was always alert. She’d have to write these things down and take them into consideration prior to finding him a potential partner. Though it was starting to look like he was completely unaware of her purpose there as she extended her hand out to him, “Y/N L/N. Professional matchmaker.” She explained with a bright smile, though, based off his personality, that would likely ward him off more.

He was polite though, shaking her hand despite his clear suspicions of her, “Zuko.” Y/N couldn’t help but raise a brow at this, he hadn’t mentioned his title in his introduction. Zuko turned to his Uncle, brows furrowing as he said, “you hired a professional matchmaker?”

With a shrug Iroh responded, “we met by chance! So, it must be destiny.”

Zuko gives him a tight lipped smile, nodding slowly before returning his attention to Y/N who stood away from the pair, examining the decor of the palace. It was minimalistic, truly basic if she was honest, despite the clear amount of riches they possessed, it lacked evidence of them. Bringing her eyes back to him, he spoke, “you don’t need to be here. You can receive your pay, but I personally see no purpose for a matchmaker.”

Iroh frowned at his words, “Zuko, you need to give it a chance! Unlike all those ladies who keep throwing themselves at you. Besides, she seems rather good at her job.” His gaze was on his nephew as he sighed, giving Y/N an apologetic look that she simply waved off.

“Oh, it’s fine. It just won’t be for long.” Zuko raised a brow at her words, and Y/N watched his feet shifted, “no need to prepare for a fight, your majesty.” She hummed, rolling her neck, in the corner of her eye she could see shock flash in his own. “You see, as a matchmaker I do several things, including developing a little... profile of my clients. Now we just met but I can already tell you a variety of things about you that’s making your love life rather trivial.” Even before she had to develop the profiles professionally, in the lower rings of Ba Sing Se, being capable of reading others was a necessary skill.

Zuko’s eyes narrowed at her, “and what have you determined, in the very short time we’ve known each other.”

A small laugh escaped her as she extended her arms and cracked her knuckles, “well. You have major trust issues, which is why you are desperately trying to keep me at arms length. That’s one reason why you have yet to find someone.” Turning her attention to the decor of the large room, Y/N closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Given the lack of interior design, I would say you’re struggling with social aspects of your job, and you need a partner. One that I can help you find.”

“See! I told you she’s good at what she does.” Iroh exclaimed, moving forward to clap a hand onto Y/N’s shoulder, much to Zuko’s dismay.

Y/N gave the older man a small smile before looking back to Zuko, who eyed her wearily, “you keep avoiding the portrait of your father. But you can’t bring yourself to take it down.” She said, and Y/N could practically feel the tension building with each word. “He’s one of the reasons you’ve yet to find a lover-”

“Because he gave me the scar?”

Y/N paused, brows furrowing at his words, her eyes found his, “I’m sorry, was that a joke?” She asked, and Iroh stared between the two, amused. “You’re actually rather attractive, which is why I know this is a personality thing. Probably tired of the whole fancy court thing they have going on here, which I’m going to need to research...” Y/N pursed her lips, failing to notice the clear shock on Zuko’s face at her comment, and red flushing his cheeks. Waving off her thoughts, she looked back to him, “anyways. My assistants should’ve already cleared out about an hour in your schedule each day for our sessions. I’m going to be asking you some very personal questions. So, be ready!”

And with that, Y/N waved to the two, bowing rather questionably shortly after, before heading off in the direction she’d seen Marcella and Evelyn go in. Effectively leaving behind a baffled Zuko, and a rather satisfied Iroh, who began to laugh at Zuko’s reaction. “I really like her, quite the character she has.”

“Yeah, quite the character.” He brought a hand to his temple, “is this really necessary, Uncle?”

Iroh simply sighed, looking to his nephew, “whether you want to admit it or not, she was right. Ruling a nation is difficult, and ruling it alone is even harder.” A small huff of laughter escaped Iroh, “and she figured that out by your lack of interior design!”

Exhaling deeply, Zuko reminded himself that this was all part of the job, the job that consumed his entire life. The life that this girl had analyzed in a matter of moments.

Yeah, he wasn’t looking forward to their meetings.

Though his morals and his disagreement with practically selling your own child were a major factor in his lack of a love life. There was also the simple fact that there was no love in many of the interactions he had with potential suitors, much less genuine interest. They all wanted the power he could give them should they get married.

There was also the fact that Zuko had very little relationship experience, a fact he was trying to ignore. At the end of the day, he couldn’t bring himself to approach anyone, and if he did, he wouldn’t know what to do. Zuko also doubted that people would act... genuine around him, especially if they knew who he was. And all he really wanted was something real, considering his entire day was surrounded by fake smiles that belonged to both him and others.

It seemed that Y/N wasn’t prepared to ignore this piece of information though, since the following morning she’d seated him down and begun to speak of it, “so. You’ve been in two relationships.”

His brows furrowed, “one actually.” He and Mai had broken up about six months into his work as Fire Lord, “Mai.”

Raising a brow at him, she leaned back in the seat. Zuko couldn’t help but wonder how she managed to decorate the place in such a short period of time, as he could’ve sworn there hadn’t been a desk here the previous day. Then again, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d toured his own palace. “Well, I’ve heard rumors of you and a Southern Water Tribe member, but I’m not sure which one so I just-”

“Okay! That’s enough.” His cheeks were flushed red as he looked away.

Y/N grinned at him, leaning forwards, “then let’s discuss Mai. You two were pretty on and off, right?”

Zuko grimaced at the thought, they were. He wouldn’t deny that he’d gone back to her a few times during his time as Fire Lord, “yeah.”

Y/N began to write into her notebook, “tell me about her.”

“I don’t see why that’s important.” Came his response, looking at her quizzically as he frowned.

Tilting her head at him, Y/N gave Zuko a look, “come on. Let me do my job, I need to know about her to gauge what types of personalities you like while also determining why the two of you broke it off entirely.” She placed the book down, and Zuko could very clearly see the words ‘commitment issues’ underlined. “The goal isn’t just to find you a suitable wife that can help you rule, but someone you can be happy with.”

He’s silent for a moment, eyes on Y/N, her words seem honest. And this was her job, “she was blunt. Honest. Kind of mean at times, but she could be sweet as well. Pretty stoic, expressing her emotions was always... difficult for her.”

Y/N nodded slowly, scribbling a few more things down, “okay. And what’s your favorite color?”

“What type of question is that?” Zuko asked, brows furrowing in confusion.

Crossing her arms, Y/N shrugged, “well. Favorite colors can tell you a lot about a person.” Came her response, “mine is green. Maybe that’s because I associate green with the Earth Kingdom, where I lived. Or maybe it’s because I happen to like nature quite a bit.” Looking around, Zuko could see that she’d already gotten a variety of plants native to the Fire Nation, most were succulents due to the almost year round heat.

At the mention of colors, his mind immediately went back to his first experience with the dragons, when their fire encircled him and Aang. “I.. don’t know how to describe the color- colors?” Zuko’s brows drew together in thought, and Y/N looked at him.

“How would I not understand a color?” The confusion is clear in her voice as she looks at him. Y/N can practically see the nostalgia in his eyes as he looks to the balcony.

Sighing, Zuko shifted in his seat, “these dragons I met ended up making a circle of fire around me and there were just... so many colors. But together it was just,” he paused, searching for the right word, “beautiful.”

Y/N’s mouth gaped open for a moment, “you met dragons?” She exclaimed, nearly throwing her notebook aside. Y/N had never seen such creatures, in fact, the general consensus was that they were still extinct

Zuko seemed to forget about this fact as he straightened himself, eyes meeting hers, “you can’t tell anyone about them!” He exclaimed, “they were hunted to extinction, though I intend to outlaw such things it’s just...”

She nodded in understanding, “people break laws.” Y/N leaned back into her seat once more, “you owe me a dragon story.” She said, before crossing her legs in her seat and continuing, “favorite food?”

“Well, Aang took me to Avatar Day, and they had these weird Avatar shaped dough things.” He explained, recalling the time he’d gone with Aang and the others. Apparently they used to burn his statue, but now they worship him for some reason.

Y/N brought a hand under her chin, “I have no idea what that is.” She began to scribble something down on her notepad, “but okay.”

“What about you?”

Y/N hummed in response, “what do you mean?”

Zuko felt his cheeks warm, “this just feels like an interview.”

“Probably because it is an interview.” Y/N said, gesturing for him to elaborate.

Looking away, Zuko frowned, “it’s weird.” Sighing, he spoke once more, “so, what’s your favorite food?”

Y/N was silent for a moment, staring at Zuko, who was trying his hardest to avoid her gaze. This was a rare occurrence, seeing as most nobles were rather self-centered and liked talking about themselves. She’d never had a client who felt uncomfortable with this portion because it was basically a one-sided conversation. “Jennamite is a good rock candy.”

Zuko turns back to her, a small laugh escaping him, “my friends were nearly killed in Jennamite by the King of Omashu once.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

ATTEMPT ONE

Y/N wouldn’t deny how odd it was, to be sharing as much information as she was learning about Zuko. She’d never really considered just how personal some of the questions were until she found herself answering them. But, after about a month, she had assembled a pretty good array of potential suitors for Zuko. Along with a few of her own clients, Y/N had found some girls that from the Fire Nation that seemed pretty acceptable.

That’s what she had thought at least.

“What do you mean, you already rejected her?”

Turns out, Zuko had met half the women, and rejected them. The other half were either from the Earth Kingdom, or yet to attend one of few Galas that Zuko hosted. Seeing as he handed off most of that work to his advisors, it was rare for him to remain at Galas for an extended period of time.

He grimaced at Y/N’s words nonetheless, his Uncle had informed her of his situation, but clearly not the extent of it. “She was more interested in her guard than me. It was a power grab her parents likely forced her into.” He remembered the girl, she’d been kind to him, but she clearly didn’t want him as much as her parents did.

His words brought about a new level of understanding for Y/N, who nodded slowly, of course it was the parents that Zuko had a problem with. It wasn’t uncommon for nobles to practically throw their children at potential suitors as though they’re a bag of coins. It was something that disgusted her as well, her job found people companions that they liked while these people simply wished for an addition to their power.

Zuko was the ultimate power grab. Y/N could only imagine how many times this had happened to him, random people he’d never met approaching him, offering their child’s hand in marriage.

Bringing a hand to her temple, Y/N sighed, “but the rest are fine?”

He nodded slowly, flipping through the pages he had yet to remove, Zuko skimmed what Y/N had written. Taking note of her handwriting, he wondered if she’d written his profile like this. “Yeah...” Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, and Zuko sighed, removing a few more pages from the binder she’d presented him with.

Exhaling deeply, Y/N brought a hand to Zuko’s shoulder, “be honest with me. I’m not gonna yell at you for removing them Zuko, this is for you.”

Sometimes he forgot it was her job to be nice to him.

“Right.” He mumbled, trying to shake off the feeling he got as she removed her hand. “That’s still... a lot of people. Some of which aren’t even in this nation.” Zuko pointed out, a queasy feeling within him as he looked at her.

Y/N plopped down onto the couch in the common room they’d met in, sprawling her body across it, “you’re right, there is a lot. But,” She twisted her body so that she could see him, wiggling her brows suggestively, “it’s been a while since you hosted a Gala.”

Zuko’s face dropped at her words, in his years of being Fire Lord, he’d had about three total, and hated every single one. But given how rare the Galas were, people got pretty excited when he threw them. “I hate planning those, it’s a waste of time and-”

A small smile was on her face as she interrupted him, “and you suck at planning them? I can tell by the decor of your palace.” Glaring at her, Zuko watched as she shifted so that her head hung off the couch upside down, “well. This will be the best Gala yet, you’ll impress all the ladies that you can’t meet in the immediate future in about...” Y/N looked to the watch on her wrist, brows furrowing, “eight months. And I’ll help you plan it, since you desperately need help-”

“Alright, I get it, I’m horrible.” He grumbled, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his seat across from her after placing the binder on the coffee table between them. “Eight months isn’t a lot of time,” traditionally, Gala’s took at least a year’s worth of planning and preparation, especially since Zuko was so busy he barely had the time to assist in the process. Eight months was no where near enough.

Y/N was still frowning at his words, “no self-deprecation.” She ordered, taking Zuko by surprise, before continuing, “regardless. I’ve planned Gala in less time with less resources. It’ll be fine.” Pursing her lips Y/N sighed, “now we need to discuss your inability to talk to people in general due to your immense trust issues and constant battle field mentality.”

Zuko’s mouth gaped open at her words, “excuse me?”

Bringing her hands to rest on her stomach as she laid upside down, Y/N spoke, “when we first met you looked like you contemplated attacking me. And when you met Marcella and Evelyn, I’ve never seen someone so awkward.” Zuko is silent and looks away, only proving her point as Y/N continued, “so we need to practice your people skills, and flirting for future reference, seeing as your first date is in about a week-”

Almost immediately, Zuko straightened his posture, sitting up and looking to her as though she’d thrown a bucket of ice cold water onto him. “A week?” He winced at the way his voice cracked.

“Yeah, I spoke with one of the girls, not her parents, and asked her to meet with you later in the week.” Y/N explained, “her name is Elara, she’s in there.”

Frowning, Zuko reached for the binder and began to flip through the pages, “how’d you know I wasn’t going to get rid of her page?” Only to find the girl’s page, details on her personality, skills, hobbies and more on them.

A smirk spread across Y/N’s face, “she was one of few I was sure you’d keep.” With a sigh, Zuko looked back to Y/N, who still sat upside down, “now. You need to practice your romance skills, so come on.” She twisted her body, her legs falling to the side of the couch, and then moving onto the floor, Y/N stood. As the blood rushed to her head, a wave of dizziness came over her, and Y/N found herself stumbling slightly.

A hand came to her back and forearm, steadying her, “you need to practice walking.” Zuko laughed slightly, a nervous edge in his voice as he eyed her.

Y/N brought a hand to her head as she laughed as well, “oh my...” Y/N blinked several times as the wave of dizziness passed, her hand gripping Zuko’s arm as she grounded herself. Looking up to him, she quickly realized how close they were and cleared her throat, releasing his arm.

He followed suit, removing his hands from her, “sorry-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Zuko.”

The look her gives her almost hurts. Because Y/N can see the shock within his eyes as he nods slowly in response. She wonders what he’s thinking of as he she gives him a tight lipped smile, clapping her hands together as she turns back to him, “practice.” She repeated, mostly for herself.

And maybe offering to be the person he practiced on was her first mistake.

ATTEMPT FIVE

Y/N had learnt a lot about Zuko in the past four dates he’d been on. One of these things being the fact that Zuko was a wild card when it came to dates, and they seemed to either go very well with the girls contacting Y/N to let her know they wished for a second date, only for Zuko to reject the possibility. Or, they went very bad. And Zuko returned with some sort of drink splattered onto his clothing.

So, Y/N decided that the best course of action was to discover what exactly Zuko wasn’t mentioning, and to follow him with a disguise. Evelyn had suggested it, Iroh supported the idea full-heartedly, though Marcella had believed it would be a huge invasion of privacy, Y/N didn’t really care, seeing as it was her job to be involved in Zuko’s love life. She was getting paid to ensure he found love.

And she was curious.

That’s how Y/N ended up dressed in some very suspicious Fire Nation clothing alongside her assistants and the apparent Dragon of the West, famous tea shop owner, and member of the royal family.

What a wonderful assortment of people.

Marcella and Evelyn had separated from Iroh and Y/N, sitting in another booth across from them, it was a feeble attempt to keep them from sticking out. The girl had chosen a rather upscale restaurant, so dressing appropriately while also maintaining a look that prevented Zuko from recognizing them.

Y/N pulled her hat further down on her face as she looked to Iroh, who was browsing the menu. She wouldn’t be shocked if he entered the kitchen just to make himself a ‘decent’ cup of tea. He’d been rather helpful during the whole process, anything she didn’t find out from Zuko, Y/N had learnt from Iroh. “See anything you like, Iroh?”

He smiled at her, nodding slowly, “I think I’ll just take some tea.”

Looking to Marcella and Evelyn, Y/N smiles, the two are speaking with one another like they aren’t supposed to be spying on the Fire Lord. But Y/N doesn’t mind, this was more of a recreational activity anyways, and she was glad they were having fun. Since they’d gotten to the Fire Nation two months ago there had been an... adjustment period to put it simply.

Y/N nodded at Iroh’s statement, and her eyes fell back onto Zuko and his newest date, Amaya, she was a simple girl. She’d possessed organizational skills that Zuko lacked, planned dozens of events, had the expressive qualities that Zuko yearned for in a partner. Amaya was one of few that Y/N was sure Zuko would take a liking to. Especially since she also had training in a variety of fighting styles, and was quite the Firebender. She’d been a little skeptical when she first contacted Amaya, the girl seemed hesitant, but she agreed.

And from the looks of it, he had. The pair was laughing along with each other, but Y/N could see the way Zuko stiffened at any physical contact, in general he’d yet to relax. If Y/N was honest, it was basically like any first date, awkward.

Zuko didn’t really know how to feel about Amaya, she was what he should be looking for in a girl, everything he needed if he was honest. She had an interest in the art, something Zuko had never taken to and the main reason his palace looked, ‘dull’ as Y/N had put it. And she was expressive, the main issue he’d had with Mai was her lack of expression. But, for some reason, Zuko just couldn’t see her as anything more than a good friend. There was something... off about her.

“When that Earth Kingdom girl approached me, I was skeptical.” Amaya explained, taking a sip from her glass, “you know how most Earth Kingdom folk are...” She gave him a look as Zuko listened in confusion. “The Fire Nation citizens simply have more class.” Amaya settled for with a shrug.

Oh.

Zuko laughed nervously, “I’m not sure I understand. I find Earth Kingdom citizens pretty pleasant actually, and Y/N, the one you met, she’s actually very resourceful and kind.” His mind went to Toph as well, who had invented an entirely new type of bending. She was an impressive young woman from the Earth Kingdom, and Y/N was as well, she’d started her own business at a young age and turned it into something incredible.

“Really? She didn’t seem too smart when I met her, but who can say no to a meeting with the Fire Lord?”

Zuko was pretty sure her words were meant to be taken as a joke. But Amaya wasn’t the first person Zuko had encountered with this mindset, she was just more subtle about it. The supremacy of the Fire Nation was still an idea that ran rampant in some people’s minds, though Zuko had dealt with most disputes regarding his peaceful relations with other nations. Many still missed the time when the Fire Nation practically owned the world, where Fire Nation citizens could treat the people who had their homes taken from them however they pleased.

It was a dark time in his nation’s history, nonetheless, several people missed it. This was something rather prevalent amongst Nobles though, they were the ones who lost an immense amount of land when the war had ended. Many of them were bitter about what had happened.

If Zuko was honest, she’d probably had these ideas drilled into her since birth, and simply hadn’t grown out of them, which was a shame. But as the ruler of a nation, he couldn’t rule beside someone who looked down on others simply because they weren’t from the Fire Nation.

Zuko shook his head, “Y/N built her business from the ground up. And now she’s helping the Fire Lord get dates.” He knows he sounds defensive, as though he’s prepared to fight her, something his Uncle would likely scold him for, but he doesn’t care at the moment.

“All she does is set you up with people.”

Zuko’s brows furrowed at this comment, and he raised a hand to get the attention of the waiter, “excuse me, could I get the check please?” The young man nodded, heading off to get the check, and Amaya looked at him incredulously.

Y/N had done far more than set him up with people, she’d helped him begin planning a Gala, she’d tried her best to find a good assortment of people that would fit both Zuko’s needs and the Fire Nation’s, and that list was probably very difficult to narrow down. Zuko had seen the work she put in for formulating profiles of the potential suitors, and throughout all of it she had done nothing but support him.

“What are you doing?” Amaya asked, shifting in her seat as she stared at Zuko quizzically.

The waiter came over and handed Zuko the check, and Zuko placed a pouch of money on the table, “thanks. Keep the change.” He explained, nodding to the boy, who’s mouth gaped open in surprise as he took the pouch of money, bowing to Zuko repetitively, though Zuko wasn’t paying much attention to him as he spoke to Amaya. “I don’t think this is going to work out, I’m sorry.”

Amaya is still seated in shock as Zuko rises from his table, and Y/N can’t help it when her mouth gapes open at the sight of him simply abandoning his date. She makes eye contact with Iroh, who raises a brow, and they both sit up. She moves to follow Zuko, only to bump into someone.

“I’m so sorry!” Y/N exclaims, moving down to help them pick up their hat, that had fallen when they collided.

“No, that was my fault entirely!” He responds, shaking his head as they both leaned town to pick it up.

“Aang, come on! He’s leaving.” The woman behind him exclaims.

Y/N’s brows furrow in recognition as she looks up to see a blue arrow tattooed on the man’s head, and her eyes widen in realization. Zuko had described Aang several times during their conversations, he and the rest of his friends came up often. But Y/N did not expect the first time she met the Avatar and his friends to be when they were both following Zuko on his date.

ATTEMPT FOURTEEN

Y/N simply sighs as she opens her door to see Zuko, in the outfit she’d helped him pick out. “What was it this time?” He’d been on thirteen dates thus far, and Y/N was slowly realizing that Zuko was likely one of her most difficult clients. This was purely because he’d yet to get a second date, though there had been offers, Zuko had declined all of them.

“She was just-” His hands gestured rather broadly, he was practically throwing them into the air, “she was so rude to the waiter.” This had always been a dealbreaker for him, since he’d worked as a waiter in two different tea shops, Zuko had come to understand the importance of treating a waiter with kindness and how difficult the work could be.

His eyes dart between Y/N and her door, she’s rubbing her eyes due to the exhaustion and Zuko can’t help the guilt that floods him. Nonetheless, she opens the door wider, heading inside her room and signaling for him to close it as she falls back onto her bed. “You were a waiter once, yeah?” He’d told her a fair share about his life in the Earth Kingdom, she’d inquired quite a bit about that part of his life.

He asked about her life in the Earth Kingdom too, and she’d told him how poor life could be the in the outer rings, something he’d experienced for himself. Zuko listened as she describe living after her parents had died, working for a matchmaker only to discover she was actually good at the job, making a name for herself in the outer rings and then making her way inwards until she was one of the most sought after matchmakers in the kingdom. Y/N spoke of how she’d met Marcella and Evelyn, and how she’d taken them in when she’d discovered they were both orphans, living on the streets as pickpockets.

Zuko wouldn’t help but laugh at this, he could imagine Evelyn as a pickpocket, but Marcella? She was a sweet girl, he couldn’t imagine her in a life of crime. Of course, desperation made people do questionable things. Zuko knew that much from experience.

“Yeah, I was.” Came his response, taking a seat in the chair by her desk.

Y/N sat up in her bed, bracing herself with her elbows as she raised a brow at him, “what are you doing?”

Zuko frowned, shifting in the chair, “sitting...?” He moved to get up but Y/N waved him off.

“Just lay with me, idiot.” She allowed her head to fall back onto the bed, patting the spot beside her. Clearly, her suggestion wasn’t bothering her, but Zuko felt his face flush at the possibility.

If he’s honest, he’s not even trying anymore when it comes to dates and women and love. There were three reasons for this, one of which was the fact that he simply wasn’t connecting with any of the women he had met thus far. Sure they were nice, and they probably would be his type has it not been for reason two. The fact that Zuko had realized he had feelings for Y/N, what feelings? He wasn’t sure, but they sure as hell weren’t platonic, if they were he would not be blushing this much. He wouldn’t get that weird feeling in his stomach whenever he spoke to her.

Then there was was reason three, if Zuko succeeded in finding love, then Y/N would leave. It was selfish, but he already knew he wouldn’t find anyone considering he pretty sure he loved someone else already. So now, Zuko was basically procrastinating letting Y/N know that this just wasn’t going to work out, mostly because he didn’t have a plan.

He was debating just firing her, but that likely wouldn’t go over well, and he wanted to see her business succeed. If you get fired by the Fire Lord, that just looks bad. Now Zuko wondered what the best way to go about this was, since there was no point in working for him, even if she was getting paid. He was a waste of time.

He couldn’t help the smile graced his lips as his own thoughts reminded him of the time she’d scolded him, telling him to quit being self-deprecating.

Zuko sat up from the chair, making his way over to her bed, Zuko found himself simply plopping down onto it face first, earning a laugh from Y/N.

He rolled over onto his back, turning to look at Y/N, only to find her eyes were already on him, bringing a blush to his cheeks as he mumbled, “what?”

“I’m just trying to figure out why you haven’t gotten a second date yet.” Came her response, propping herself up on her forearm. “You have a nice personality, you’re attractive, I’m sure at least one of the girls caught your eye.” Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair as she began to wonder if she’d incidentally allowed her own feelings to get in the way of her work. Maybe that’s why this was going so badly.

This was a problem.

Zuko simply shook his head, his face on fire as he listened to her words, though he couldn’t help the hand he brought to the scar on his face. Y/N had pointed out before that he was allowing his Father to control his actions even now that he was imprisoned, and Zuko was beginning to see what she meant.

Removing his hand from his face, Zuko sighed. Though he didn’t have much time to dwell on his thoughts as her hand hesitantly came to his face, placing a hand on his cheek and allowing her thumb to brush against the scar. Zuko jumped at the sudden contact, and Y/N moved to withdraw her hand almost instantly, but Zuko’s hand came to hers and held it there. Looking to her, he couldn’t read the look in her eyes as she gazed at him, and suddenly he wished he was as good at reading people as she was.

“No self-deprecating thoughts.” Y/N mumbled, “bad Zuko.” She removed her hand from his to flick his head, causing his brows to furrow.

He pouted, and Y/N let out a laugh as he spoke, “how come you haven’t found someone?” Zuko looked to her, “you’re beautiful, and smart, and just... perfect.” He didn’t notice when her cheeks warmed, “you’re a literal matchmaker, surely you’ve considered who your perfect person is.”

Y/N fell onto her back, running her hands over her face as she shook her head, “how have you not gotten a second date?” A sigh escaped her, “I haven’t had time for love before, and I just haven’t found that,” looking to him, she pursed her lips, “perfect person.” Growing up in the lower rings, she didn’t have time for an actual relationship, and her business as a matchmaker grew incredibly quickly. At the end of the day, long term just didn’t work out, Y/N barely had for herself, much less another person.

“I guess we both suck at love.” Zuko said, his tone was serious and Y/N couldn’t help but burst out into laughter as she swatted at his chest.

Too bad they couldn’t suck at love together.

ATTEMPT SEVENTEEN THROUGH TWENTY EIGHT

Smoothing over her green dress, a sign of her citizenship in the Earth Kingdom, Y/N moved to answer the knock on her bedroom door. Given how long she’d been in the Fire Nation, Y/N wondered if the Earth Kingdom would still feel like home when she returned. The idea of going back felt odd, and though that time likely wasn’t soon unless Zuko met the love of his life tonight, it was inevitable.

And it horrified her.

Holding the edge of the dress slightly to make it easier to walk, Y/N sighed and opened the door, seeing Zuko. A small smile on her face as she eyed his Fire Nation robes, “you look nice.” She complimented, tilting her head at him as she allowed her eyes to travel over his figure.

Zuko nodded, a blush coming over her cheeks, his mouth gaping open as he looked at Y/N. “You look beautiful.” She did, the dress looked amazing on her, her hair styled just right, and bracelets adorning her wrists.

“Thank you, Fire Lord Zuko.” His nose crinkled at the use of his title, coming from her it felt even weirder, wrong almost. But she continued, “mind helping me out?” She asked, moving back to her desk and taking a necklace in hand. Y/N had been struggling to put it on for the past few minutes, and now she had someone to do it for her.

He nodded, closing the door behind him, he took the necklace from her hand, and when Y/N ensured her hair was out of his way, Zuko brought the necklace around her neck. He secured the clasp, hands lingering as he adjusted it to the center of her neck. Zuko couldn’t help but notice a small scar on her shoulder, hand brushing over it.

Y/N looked over her shoulder and to him, brow raised, “how’d you get this?” He asked, brows drawn together. His hand traced the raised skin gently, Y/n could feel her cheeks warming at his touch, inhaling deeply.

She grimaced, “a knife fight I almost lost my life to.” Was her explanation. Y/N didn’t like to think back to the days when she’d resorted to several... questionable actions to stay alive. But she pushed those thoughts away as she turned to face him. “You ready?” Y/N asked, they had to get to the Gala soon, considering the fact that Zuko was the host, Y/N was shocked he’d even stopped by her room in the first place.

Zuko was silent, simply nodding as he extended his arm for her to take. And Y/N did, looping her arm around his as she smiled, “you are gonna woo so many Earth Kingdom women tonight!” Y/N exclaimed, more confidence in her voice than Zuko had.

Shame the only Earth Kingdom girl he wanted to ‘woo’ was her.

When they’d arrived at the Gala, descending the stairs together, they were greeted with the claps of the other guests. Zuko would feel the anxiety flood him, but he paid it no mind. Though Y/N could feel the way he stiffened as he ended his speech to the diplomats of all nations, “let this be a peaceful, and joyous night!”

They all burst out into cheers before the party continued, the music starting once more, and everyone returning to feasting upon the buffet, dancing along the ballroom floor or speaking with one another. All while Y/N led Zuko down the stairs, dragging him by the hand, “come on. Enjoy your own party, meet some girls.” She winked, and Zuko swore his face heated up even more than it already had.

Y/N wasn’t a fool, she knew that if she’d stuck by his side the entire night, she would serve as a repellant of any potential suitors. So naturally, much to Zuko and Y/N’s dismay, she removed herself from him, playfully shoving him towards a group of Earth Kingdom girls she’d mentioned earlier. Though there were several other clusters in the ballroom.

Zuko simply sighed, giving Y/N a small smile before making his way to the group of girls. If he was honest, he would rather be spending the Gala by her side, but he had to put in some effort. He owed Y/N that much. Besides, this was an entirely new group of girls, maybe he would find someone tonight.

“Hi there.” Zuko greeted, waving awkwardly at the girls.

This action earned him a few laughs, and he was unsure if they actually found it funny or felt the need to laugh since he was the Fire Lord. Shortly after they began introducing themselves, speaking like there was no tomorrow.

If Zuko was honest, the number of women here was overwhelming. So, as he excused himself from the conversation, much to their chagrin, he placed his cup down on the platter of one of many waiters. Making his way outside, Zuko couldn’t help but feel relieved at the fresh air that hit him on the balcony. Though he contemplated heading back inside when he noticed another girl was already there, eyes shut as she faced the sky, she turned to see him, eyes widening a fraction. “I’m sorry, I can go-”

“No!” She exclaimed, cheeks flushing in embarrassment due to her outburst, “no... it’s fine.” She turned back to look at the sky, hand clasped together, fidgeting.

Zuko stepped forward, finding himself situated across from her, leaning against the railing, “so why are you out here?”

A small laugh escaped the girl, and she ran a hand through her hair, “it’s rather stress relieving. You have a lovely view in your palace.”

He couldn’t help but feel disappointed when he realized she recognized him, though Zuko nodded along, “what’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking?” It was a stupid question, and Zuko nearly facepalmed as he pursed his lips.

“Aileen.” Came her response, and Zuko realized he recognized her name as well. She was the child of one of the more well known members of Fire Nation nobility, her parents had approached him in the past in hopes of arranging a marriage between the two of them. He had declined almost immediately. And now that Aileen turned to him, he had a feeling he made the right decision, “you’re Zuko, right?”

He exhaled deeply, nodding, “that’s me.” Sometimes, Zuko wondered what his life would’ve been like if he wasn’t Zuko, perhaps things would’ve been simpler. No, things definitely would’ve been simpler. There would be no diplomatic meetings, no wars, no idiots trying to hurt other people, no more assassination attempts, no more fake smiles and no more Galas. Of course, if he wasn’t Zuko, he never would’ve met Y/N.

“I heard you’re looking for a partner in crime.” Aileen prompted, “why aren’t you in there finding that future love of your life?”

Shrugging, Zuko looked up at the sky, “I found her. She just doesn’t want me.”

He can feel Aileen stare at him, she’s silent for a moment, and Zuko wonders what she’s thinking. Though he doesn’t need to wait long to find out as she responds, “I understand.” Aileen focuses her gaze on the glass she’d placed on the thick railing of the balcony, “the person I love probably doesn’t love me back. And even if they did, my parents disapprove.”

“Did you ask?” He felt hypocritical, Zuko himself had never spoken with Y/N in regards to his feelings, and he likely never would, but he wanted to know. “If they love you?”

Aileen laughs slightly, shaking her head, “I couldn’t bring myself to. I’m scared.” She replied, looking back to him curiously, “did you?”

“No.” He responded lamely, tapping his fingers against the railing with a sigh.

Aileen laughed at this, “I guess we are both cowards then.” She pursed her lips, “I didn’t ask because I was scared, why didn’t you?”

And then the words come spilling out, “whoever I end up with will greatly impact the whole world, whether I want to acknowledge it or not. And she doesn’t deserve that burden, nobody does.” He laughs bitterly as he continues, “she’s also the person that was hired to help me find love in the first place.” Zuko pauses, looking away from Aileen, “and I guess I’m scared too.”

“Ironic.” Aileen mumbles, bringing her eyes back to the sky, “let’s make a deal, Your Majesty.”

Zuko cringes at the use of that title, almost asking her to simply refer to him by his name, though he simply responds, “what deal?”

“We both confess. And if it goes horribly wrong, we can get married.”

Y/N can’t see the shock on Zuko’s face, but she can see how comfortable he feels with this girl, Y/N hadn’t seen her before, but she was just happy Zuko was connecting with someone. Except she also wasn’t, a bitter feeling enveloping her as she turned away, looking for something else to focus her attention on, something that didn’t hurt.

She turned to see Marcella and Evelyn in the distance, speaking with each other. Y/N supposed if she wouldn’t be finding love tonight, then at least they would. She was no fool, she saw the way they looked at each other, the glances when the other wasn’t looking. Maybe it was dumb, but Y/N found herself feeling jealous as she moved over to the buffet with a sigh. Food solved everything in her experience, after a client had a particularly bad day, food made things better.

“Perhaps some tea?” Iroh stood beside her, a kettle in his hand, he had insisted he serve tea at the Gala, though Zuko had assured him it would be just as easy to find someone else to do the job.

Y/N smiled at him, nodding as she took a cup from the array of them within the buffet, allowing Iroh to pour her some tea. “Thank you, Iroh.” Her voice is quieter than normal, and it’s clear that Iroh can tell something is wrong.

“You know, you deserve to be happy to Y/N.” His words catch her by surprise, though she doesn’t have much time to consider their meaning before flames lighting the room begin to move erratically, causing her brows to furrow.

Something was wrong.

Iroh nods to her, placing the tea kettle down as his brow furrow and she nods back, Iroh disappearing into the crowd of people. Y/N’s eyes fall back to Marcella and Evelyn, and she quickly moves to their side of the room, ignoring the hush that had fallen over the room, panicked gasps amongst them. Her hands fall onto both girl’s arms as she nods to them, “Y/N, whats going-”

Y/N is already dragging them in the direction of the exit, “get out of here, find the guards. I’m going to find Zuko.” The girls didn’t have much time to argue, as Y/N was already working her way through the panicked crowd, back to the balcony where she’d last seen Zuko. But, people were already pushing against her movements, making it difficult. Raising her head above the crowd in an attempt to see what’s going on, Y/N realizes whats happening.

Firebenders were trying to force them together, and Y/N couldn’t help but panic as she wondered if Marcella and Evelyn managed to escape and find the guards.

This was an ambush.

No, this was an assassination attempt. Zuko already knew as he watched the atmosphere of the party begin to shift, that and the person who stood before him in all black, brandishing several weapons. Alongside four others who stood by her side.

“You know, it wasn’t until I met you that I realized how bad it had gotten.” Aileen stood beside Zuko, eyes meeting his in horror as they exchanged looks. Zuko simply hoped the nod he gave her provided some semblance of comfort as he returned his attention to the person before him. “I mean, defending some lowly Earth Kingdom matchmaker? What type of career even is that?”

Her voice is almost maniacal, and Zuko can’t help but wince as he feels reminded of his sister. But he recognizes it nonetheless, Amaya. It had been months since he’d seen her, but he could still remember her voice. Her face was covered by a mask, and she wielded a sword, and if Zuko remembered correctly, she had been trained in dozens of fighting styles and was a talented bender herself. Alongside the four other men, Zuko couldn’t help but panic internally as he spoke, “Amaya, why don’t you put the swords down, and we talk about this.”

She laughs in response, ripping the mask that covered her face off and throwing it aside, “people have tried to talk to you about this. Your-” She grappled for the word, a hand yanking at her hair as she gestured to him with a sword, “your radical ideas!”

Zuko didn’t find having morals radical, but he wasn’t going to say that, not while Aileen’s life was on the line. Zuko suddenly realized why having an heir was important as he shook his head, “Amaya, look. Why don’t you let Aileen here leave, and then you and I can talk.”

Aileen looks like she’s going to protest, but Amaya glances at her red robes, a sign of her Fire Nation citizenship, and gestures for her to leave. “Get out. My problem isn’t with you.”

When Aileen doesn’t move, Amaya quickly grows frustrated, calling out to one of the guards she’d brought along that lied inside, “take this fool away.”

There’s no response, and Zuko can see panic flood Amaya’s face. And looking behind her, he quickly realizes that most of the guards have been subdued, Y/N holding one of them in her arms as she knocks them to the ground. Moving towards the balcony stealthily as Amaya’s hands begin to shake, fire sparking in her palms as she focused her attention onto Zuko. “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done to our nation.”

But Zuko wasn’t looking at her as he shook his head, hoping Y/N would understand. There was no way she could overpower Amaya, not with her bending. Y/N didn’t even have a weapon.

Now, Y/N knew for a fact that no matter how talented Zuko was, he wouldn’t put the girl beside him in danger. His priority would be keeping her alive, and given the training Amaya had as a noble, in both Firebending and fighting, she might even be as good as Zuko in a fight.

Meaning she had to be taken out of the fight.

Everything happened pretty fast after that. Zuko was shielding body coming forward to shield Aileens as he extended his freehand to Firebend at the people who’d surrounded them, only for Amaya to move out of the way. The girl was practically screaming bloody murder as she lunged at him, now wielding her sword.

Zuko didn’t have to figure out what to do next because Y/N moved faster than Amaya did, tackling the girl over the railing and down below as he began to scream.

THE FINAL ATTEMPT

Zuko’s knee is bouncing rapidly as he sits beside Iroh, who knits a scarf of some sort despite the blistering heat of the Fire Nation. He’s insisted that when Y/N returned to the Earth Kingdom she’d need it, and Zuko didn’t have the heart to disagree. Iroh had started stress-knitting about four hours ago, when Y/N had entered the room they all sat before, anxiously awaiting news of her condition.

Marcella and Evelyn are to Zuko’s left, Marcella’s sobs had quieted down, but Zuko wouldn’t be shocked if he looked over and saw tears silently streaming down her face. The girl hadn’t taken it well. Evelyn remained composed, doing her best to comfort Marcella, but the wait was clearly getting to her as well as she fidgeted with Marcella’s hands.

Seeing as Y/N had fallen from several stories up off the balcony and into the water below, Zuko didn’t really think it was possible to take the news well. But he was trying.

A pang sounded from inside the room, and Zuko practically shot up onto his feet, moving to knock on the door to discover was was wrong, only for Iroh to grab his wrist, shaking his head. Zuko exhaled deeply, beginning to pace across the hall. He found himself wishing that Katara hadn’t been busy with Water Tribe business, she was an excellent healer. Alas, Katara wasn’t there, and Zuko had to settle for one of the skilled Water Tribe diplomats instead, alongside a few others skilled in medicine.

As he paced, Zuko could feel Evelyn’s eyes on him, and it became clear she was itching to speak and he sighed, “what’s wrong?” There were dozens of answers to this question, the main one being the fact that Y/N could die today, so he hoped she understood what he meant.

The girl is glaring at him, and Zuko can’t help but feel uneasy. Because maybe she blames him for this as much as he blames himself, and maybe she’s going to tell him off, blame him for everything. Because if Y/N dies, she and Marcella will have no one again.

Not that Zuko would allow that. He’d grown attached to the girls as well, they were kind, and helpful. They’d help improve the interior decor of the palace, and if he was honest, it looked better than anything he ever could’ve done.

“You better tell her how you feel after this.”

Zuko’s mouth gapes open at the girl’s words, and he swears the breath leaves his longs, and its as though everything hits him then.

He would never get to tell Y/N how he felt if she died. He’d never get to listen to her try and tell a story just to go off on dozens of tangents, he’d never get to watch as she attempted to cook again, and he’d never get to hold her in his arms once more. There would be no more late night talks, and he wouldn’t hear her laugh, she wouldn’t tease him anymore and they wouldn’t walk through the courtyard feeding turtleducks again.

She’d never know he loved her.

Zuko finds himself nodding to Evelyn’s words, frozen in place as he looks to her and asks, “was I that obvious?” His voice is hoarse, and its probably because he didn’t stop screaming, even when Y/N’s body hit the water.

Marcella is laughing at his words, blowing her nose into a tissue that Evelyn hands her before she speaks, “painfully obvious.”

“For someone who’s job revolves around love, Y/N is one of the most oblivious people I’ve ever met.” Evelyn grumbles out, rubbing her eyes as she yawns.

It was late, Zuko knew that much, the guests of the party had gone to the infirmary in the palace, being tended to by doctors and any other available healers if injured. Otherwise, they’d all returned to their rooms to sleep, or more likely stay up in fear of another attack. Zuko surely would.

“Go to bed guys, it’s getting late.”

Evelyn looks at him like he’s one of the dumbest people she’s met, and if Zuko was honest, he probably was. But he simply nodded to Marcella, who had started leaning her head against Evelyn’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. “Uncle, why don’t you take them back to their rooms?”

Considering the fact that Zuko’s guards were around the corner, he wasn’t scared for his safety, but their presence just made him want to remain awake.

“Nephew, you should sleep as well.” His Uncle replied, though he rose from his seat, bringing the yarn and the start of the scarf under his arm.

Zuko gave his Uncle a smile, “I will. But if anything happens before then, I’ll be sure to alert you all.” He assured, nodding to Evelyn, who eyed him wearily. But she relented, shaking Marcella gently before standing up alongside her and Iroh.

When they were out of sight, Zuko plopped back down in the seat, his elbows resting on his knees as he brought his hands to his face.

And for the first time in the night he cried, his body racked with sobs as tears streamed down his face and he struggled to breathe. The pain of all that had happened felt almost unbearable. She had to live. Y/N had to live. Because Zuko was going to confess.

His fear of losing her outweighed his fear of rejection.

Wiping his tears away, Zuko suddenly felt grateful that Evelyn had left the box of tissues as he blew his nose. He sighed, his eyes piercing the door, hoping that something would happen.

As though his stare had willed her to exit the room, the healer came out, a grimace on her face as she looked to Zuko, likely because of his bloodshot eyes. The woman simply sighed, the grimace becoming a more sympathetic look. “Miss L/N lost a lot of blood... several of her bones were broken when she hit the water, especially her ribs. Her internal organs were damaged as well and... well it wasn’t very likely for her to survive.”

She’s dead.

Y/N is dead.

Oh.

“Wow, you look like a mess.”

Zuko’s head whips up, his eyes meeting Y/N’s, she’s leaning against a wooden crutch, grinning lazily at him. The healer beside her looks rather apologetic as she frantically explains, “she woke up far quicker than we anticipated and only agreed to rest if we participated in her rather cruel prank.”

So, she wasn’t a ghost.

Zuko launches himself up from the chair, nearly tackling Y/N, but the wooden crutch she uses for support serves as a reminder of her fragile state as he asks, “can I hug you?”

Her smile falters at the sound of his voice, hoarse and jagged, so she simply extends are free arm outward. Zuko takes this as an invitation for a hug, gently wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his head in her neck, Y/N wrapped her free arm around his neck, hand finding its way to the hair at the nape of his neck. “Im s-”

“It’s not your fault Zuko. I swear if you say its your fault I will throw myself over the balcony again.” She threatened, hand tightening in his hair.

Zuko laughs quietly, inhaling deeply before he speaks again, “please never do that again.”

“I make no promises.”

Sighing, Zuko releases her, “I hate you so much.”

Y/N scoffed, “you love me.” She was limping over to the bed in the middle of the room, blood coating the surrounding area. Though the doctors in the room were moving across the room that they’d placed Y/N on, and dealt with her injuries on, Zuko couldn’t help but feel sick at the sight.

She could’ve died.

“Yeah, I do.”

Y/N pauses, turning to look back at him, her mouth gapes open. Zuko’s looking away, eyes on anything but her as he inhales deeply.

The healer simply sighs, “before we do this, I should inform the two of you that Miss Y/N cannot do any... strenuous activities for at least one month.”

Zuko’s cheeks are flushing red as he shakes his head rapidly, “ma’am-”

“We’ll be taking our leave. Have fun, but not too much fun. Please.” The woman closes the door behind her once the other doctors are out of the room, and Y/N can’t stop laughing at the mortified expression on Zuko’s face, despite the sharp pain she feels in her ribs.

Taking a seat on the fresh sheets of the bed, Y/N sighs, “so you love me?” She’s picking at the sheets, “as a friend?”

Zuko suddenly realizes just how right Evelyn was as he slowly shakes his head, “no. More than a friend. I think I inadvertently sabotaged half of the dates you sent me on because of it.”

Y/N laughs quietly, eyes falling on Zuko only to see he’s looking anywhere but her, she calls out to him quietly, “Zuko. Look at me.”

He doesn’t hesitate to bring his gaze to her, eyes meeting hers as he begins to fidget with his hand. Y/N simply reaches her hand out, and he takes it. “I love you too, idiot.” She mumbles, pulling him closer and wrapping her arms around his waist. “I just wish you had told me sooner so I didn’t waste so much time trying to set you up with other women.”

A small laugh escapes him as he brings his hand to her hair, “how do I know you weren’t purposely giving me bad matches because you were in love with me?”

Y/N removes her head from his stomach, looking up at him, her nose crinkles, “unlike you, I am a professional.” Zuko flicks her forehead, and Y/N pouts at him, hand coming up to his face, “can I kiss you?”

She can feel his face warm, but he nods rather enthusiastically nonetheless, and Y/N finds herself smiling at his as she uses her hands to pull his face downward towards her. His lips meet hers, and Zuko finds himself feeling complete, hands coming to Y/N’s face in an attempt to pull her closer while hers move to his ball up his robes that he’d yet to change.

Zuko pulls away first, forehead resting on hers, “you need to sleep.”

Y/N scoffed, eyes narrowing at him, “you need to sleep.” Looking to the bed, she raises a brow at him, “wanna lay with me?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, I could accidentally injure you or-”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N yanks him onto the bed, making her way to the other side and getting comfortable, “I’ll be fine.”

Yeah, everything would be fine. Maybe not for the Fire Nation, seeing as Y/N would potentially help rule a nation but...

Everything would be fine.

in·am·o·ra·ta/iˌnaməˈrädə/

noun

a woman with whom one is in love or has intimate relations.

A/N: i hope this was good enough!!! i tried!!! and idk how it ended up over 12k... that’s crazy man um kjhdsajfhjkah omg i really liked this concept though i hope i did it justice

TAGLISTS [lmk if you want to be added or removed via askbox or replies]

ATLA: @bubblebars @jada-cleo @Art-flirt @the-deli-meat @wemissyou3000 @ajediherowitchrunner

ZUKO: @outerxorbit @shawkneecaps @lil-lex1 @boxofteenageideas @izzieserra @eridanuswave @bigbuckyenergy @celamoon @savemesteeb @shephard17895 @ijustwannabecanadian @duh-dobrik @anime-simp @lammello

#prince zuko x reader #zuko x reader #zuko x you #prince zuko x you #zuko x y/n #prince zuko x y/n #zuko atla x y/n #atla zuko x y/n #atla zuko x reade #zuko atla x reader #atla zuko x reader #prince zuko atla x reader #atla prince zuko x reader #atla x reader #x reader #atla #avatar the last airbender #lok #legend of korra

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gnocchighoul · 4 years ago

Text

Big Spoon Bribery

Summary: This is the second part of this drabble!

Reader is gender neutral :D

Warnings: Mild angst and allusions to spicy times. This is mostly fluff.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: thank you @beelzebubs1trulove for the title 😘

AO3 portal

You have three missions. In order of importance, they are—

Acquire the coveted position of big spoon.

Help Lucifer and Belphie make amends.

Don’t die trying

Alright, perhaps maybe that last one should be higher up. But you just really really really want to be the big spoon. So badly. Like, you put together a gift basket to bribe Lucifer badly. In your totally humble and neutral opinion it’s a stunning work of art—lacquered black wicker basket three times the size of your head, stuffed to the brim with Princess’s Poison Apples, Coffee of Melancholy beans, some incredibly luxurious stationery, black booty shorts with ‘Enemy of The State’ in bold red print across the butt, and a bottle of Demonus, all surrounding the pièce de résistance: a voodoo doll of Mammon.

Oh yes. Tonight is going to go incredibly well.

The plan is simple and straightforward—foolproof. Suffocate Lucifer with presents and love, and then, when he's in a good mood and not expecting it: beg.

You reckon the odds are 51 to 49, in your favor. You’ve risked your life on worse—your short history in the Devildom is a glowing testament to that. It’s good enough. You’ve already cast the die. Now all that's left is to see where it lands.

To increase your chances of success, you’ve pulled out all of the stops for this momentous occasion. No expense was spared in making Lucifer’s room as clichély romantic as possible. The fireplace? Lit. Pillows? Fluffed. Lights? Dimmed. Rose petals? Scattered. Tastefully.

Even the big, (still) nameless skeleton—the guardian perched ominously in the corner of the room—is in on your shenanigans romantic gesture. The pair of black sunshades you had so skillfully taped onto it’s face have been replaced by an even better pair—oversized, bubblegum pink and heart shaped. Courtesy of your wardrobe, of course.

Now, you wait.

You throw one last fistful of crimson rose petals at the hardwood, then dive face-first into bed. In the distance, thunder rumbles. Though that might have been Beelzebub’s stomach. No way to know for sure.

This is fine. Totally fine. You’re an expert at being patient. A master, even. If RAD gave out degrees for being patient—well, you wouldn’t have one, because you’d have to wait for it. But it would be fine because you’re just so good at that. Waiting.

Patience. Paaaaaatience. Pay-shens. It’s fine. Yep. Nothing awful about this at all. You’re just going to wait.

And wait.

And keep waiting because apparently he’s working late again and totally disrupting your amorous plans, god dammit.

You toss your D.D.D aside and turn your attention out the windows, to the forest. The night sky is darker than usual—the moon swallowed whole by a maw of angry storm clouds, the darkest you’ve ever seen. The center of it crackles with purple lightning, splintering down to lash teasingly at the treetops.

You shift—adjust your mess of pillows and blankets, so that your head is at the foot of the bed. It’s not like you have anything better to do (not until Lucifer gets here) so you might as well watch the storm.

“Hm? What’s all this?”

You wake with a start—desperately try to pretend that you weren’t just drooling into the pillows. Lucifer is stood over your gift, examining it with shining eyes and upturned lips.

“Surprise!”

He’s already in pajamas. He totally saw you knocked out.

Lucifer tilts his head—lifts the voodoo doll and turns it over in his hands. Pokes at it’s plush belly with an index finger. Jabs a finger into its cheek, right next to the black-stitch smile. Holds it upside down by one foot. Your highly advanced Lucifer-reading skills tell you that he’s pleased. Poor Mammon. You should probably send him an apology gift basket.

Lucifer shakes mini-Mammon like a maraca. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion! I just felt like spoiling you.”

“You don’t say?” He drops the mini-Mammon back into the basket and makes his way to the bed—the mattress dips as he moves to hover over you, hands coming up to cage your head, one knee planted firmly between your thighs. Mirth dances between the red and black of his irises. “I should return the favor.”

He dips down to kiss you and your lightning fast reflexes kick in—your hand snaps up to cover his mouth. You feel his lips turn down into a scowl and you grin, shifting some beneath him.

“Chin up, buttercup. Don’t look so grumpy, I have something else in mind.” You waggle your eyebrows, and now he just looks confused—as much as he can with you pawing at his mouth—but perhaps a bit more hopeful. Sweetly, you whisper, “There’s something I want.”

He glances at the basket, eyes narrowing suspiciously, and knocks your hand away. He can’t help but wonder—why are you being so cryptic? What in the realms are you plotting now?

A little apprehensively, he says, “Is that right? What do you—”

“I’m so glad you asked! Lemme be the big spoon.”

“... That’s it? ”

You stare him down with the biggest, saddest, most heart-wrenching puppy eyes that you can muster. “Pretty please with a poison apple on top?”

He stares at you, disbelieving. Quirks a single neat brow and—oh. There it is. That all too familiar look in your eyes. Searing determination that burns brighter than the flames of Hell. Fierce and vivid. You’re entirely serious.

“That’s what you want?”

“Yes.”

“...You went through the trouble of making all that—” he gestures loosely at the basket. “Just because you want to be the ‘big spoon ’?”

You pat his cheek with a dopey grin. “No trouble at all when it’s for you.”

Lucifer ducks his head. Pink stains his cheeks. “You’re a menace.”

"Only for you, my love~"

You’re on cloud nine. Over the moon and stars. Walking on air.

At long last, you are the Big Spoon.

You understand now, why he’s so insistent on being the one to hold you. This is even better than the occasions when he’ll angrily throw himself into your lap and demand to be pet, which is saying something because those are some damn good times.

But this? This takes the cake.

You’ve got one arm snaked around his chest, the other up and playing with his hair. You could spend an eternity like this—content to listen to the rain pelting against the windows, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

There’s a small scar, just hidden by his hairline. You wonder if he even knows about it. If he remembers how it got there. It’s more recent—not as faded as the jagged twin scars carved into the center of his back, hugging his spine.

There are some things—very few things—that you don’t bring up. Lucifer’s missing set of wings is one of them. You have your theories, of course—you’ve seen the frayed raven feathers that Satan brandishes around his neck, not dissimilar to a trophy. You know of how he was created—of the bond that chains him to Lucifer. You know.

But, there are some things better left unsaid.

A proverb that you are absolutely about to contradict.

You have a mission, after all.

Slowly, stealthily, you lift a leg, hooking it around his hip so that he can’t escape.

“What are you doing?”

Okay, so maybe not as stealthy as you thought. He knows something is up, so you tighten your hold on him, just in case he flips when you start to pick at his feelings like a scab.

His apprehension, combined with how comfortable you are almost makes you want to throw in the towel. You could. Probably even should. This has gone above and beyond your expectations—your stomach twists at the thought of souring such a perfectly sweet moment.

Alas, your family is in turmoil, and you are but a humble knight in shining pajamas. Literally—silk is just so shiny.

Unless you want to end up with a face blasted full of feathers, you need to approach this carefully. You’re in the danger zone now—the risk is high, but so is the reward.

“Hey, Lu?”

“Hm?”

Carefully, now.

“Why did you and Belphie fight?”

You’re not sure how he manages it, what with your intense octopus hold on him, but with infuriating ease, he manages to twist around in your grasp so that he’s facing you. His upper lip curls into the slightest snarl, revealing sharp incisors.

“I’m not discussing this with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

“Because you… said so.” your tone is flat—offended. Heat ignites between the rungs of your ribcage, swirling around your lungs, sudden and consuming. It’s not the good kind.

He glares down his nose. You can see yourself in the black of his eyes—see the pinched furrow of your brow, the acidic bite of your own gaze. “Yes. Because it’s none of your business.”

“None of my business? You’re both my family and therefore both my business. And even if you won’t tell me, I still know that you shifted first. Usually the one who throws the first punch is the one that also needs to apologize first, y’know?”

“I see.” Lucifer’s eyes narrow—harden. He’s gone tense in your hold. You briefly consider squeezing him like a stress ball. “You’re taking his side.”

“Taking his—I don’t even know what the argument was about!”

Lucifer says nothing. You stare. Silence.

Seriously? Is that what he thinks you’re doing?

“Lucifer.”

He turns his head away.

“Lucifer. ”

He doesn’t look at you. Won’t look.

When Lucifer gets like this, you can’t afford to be tentative and gentle. He needs force—needs to be handled. Just a bit.

So, you take matters into your own hands. Literally.

You smush his cheeks between your palms and hold him in place, waiting for him to turn that bitter gaze upon your own. He looks like an angry goldfish—the handsomest goldfish that you’ve ever had the pleasure of spooning. Also, the only one.

“I’m on your side, Lucifer.” With a feather light touch, you brush your thumb across his cheekbone. “That’s why I think you should make the effort to just talk to him. You’re happier when your whole family is getting along.”

Your observation is right. It’s a truth that’s still too tender, too raw, but, it’s the truth. You know it. He knows it.

So, naturally, he escapes your grip and tries to flee.

“NO!” You swing a leg over his hips and shove him back into the mattress. He goes down hard, and before he can escape, you perch your happy little ass right on his chest, locking his arms against his sides with your thighs and praying to Diavolo that he won’t hurl you across the room at mach 5.

He doesn’t splatter you against the wall, but he does smile for a split second. Somehow that’s scarier.

Your heart chisels away at your ribcage now, and somewhere, in the recesses of your mind, you wonder if he can hear it.

“Look.” you ease the death-grip of your legs—nervously sweep a piece of lint off his shirt. “When we started dating, we made a deal. Remember? ‘No holding back’. Sealed with a pinky promise and everything. You and I are a team. A pair. Two peas in a pod. The heart and the brain! Tui and La. Co-captains! Pilot and co-pilo—”

Another twitch of the lips. “I get it.”

You nod sagely. “You get it. You don’t have to tell me the details of what happened if you don’t want to. I mean, it’d be nice because you know how incredibly nosey I am—stop nodding—but I’m willing to compromise if you at least tell me how you’re feeling. I want to know where your head is at. I know you’ve done this by yourself for thousands of years, but it’s not just you anymore, okay? I’m here, now. You’re stuck with me and I’m going to get that through your thick ass demon skull even if I have to—”

“Okay, okay, okay.” With a heaving sigh, Lucifer sits up, knocking you into his lap like a turtle on its shell. Before you can squirm away, he pulls you up—maneuvers you both so that his back is against the headboard, you straddling his lap. Eye to eye. “I take it you wrote all that down before I got here.”

You relax into him—loop your arms around his neck. His hands settle on your waist. “Yep. Two drafts. The other version had a lot more cussing. Wanna read it?”

He chuckles—presses a kiss to your temple and smiles there. “Of course.”

You two stay that way for a bit—content to sit in the silence and listen to the soft pattering of rain on the windows. You’re 99.99% sure he still isn’t going to talk about this, but you think that you got through to him. Somewhat.

Baby steps.

“Promise you’ll at least try to talk to him?”

Lucifer sighs, a bit dramatically. “I suppose so.”

You lean back to give him a look that says Really?

“I mean it. I will.”

You hold up your pinky finger and he stares at it, looking absolutely scandalized by your youthful ways. You tap it against his chest once, twice. Nothing. You tug the hair at the nape of his neck, and waggle your pinky. “C’mon, handsome. Make a pact with me.”

He rolls his eyes, but wraps his own firmly around yours, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. When you try to drop your hand, he threads his fingers through yours, and tucks you back into his chest.

“So…” your voice is small, muffled against his neck. “Can I still be the big spoon tonight?”

((Thank you for reading! Didya catch the atla reference? :D I just couldn’t help myself~ I’ve got two braincells rn—one of them is for obey me and the other is for atla. Dual wielding hyperfixations at it's finest. likes and comments are v appreciated 🥺👉👈 ))

His laugh is the second sweetest thing you’ve ever heard—the first being the totally betrayed gasp that bursts past his lips when you blow a big fat raspberry into his neck.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #swd obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me drabble #obey me fanfic #obey me! shall we date?#gnocchiwrites #obey me headcanons

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thebmatt · 3 years ago

Text

FFXIV Write Day 2

Aberrant - departing from an accepted standard OR diverging from the normal type.

CONTENT WARNING: asshole parents denigrating their child with sexually charged language

"Master? A letter arrived for you."

Ahldblaet Fyrilberksyn looked up from the stack of documents with an irritated expression at the servant who'd interrupted him, a hyuran male of fair skin and hair. "Well, boy? Who is it from then? Twelve save you if this isn't worth interrupting my very important work!"

The man went even paler. "I....I don't know, master. The envelope was not signed. The post markings indicate that it originated in Eorzea, but otherwise the only marking is that of a small green axe. I don't know..."

Ahldblaet's eyes, normally perpetually narrowed due to being deep set in his face, widened in shock. "Give that here!" he shouted. "And be gone with you!"

The servant scurried over to Ahldblaet's massive desk and practically dropped the envelope on the nearest corner before fleeing with all haste, as though for his life. Ahldblaet immediately snatched it from the stack of parchment it had fallen on and inspected the markings that the servant had mentioned.

"Husband?" a voice called from the side door that led from his office further into the home. Said door opened and a shorter Roegadyn woman stepped through, her ash-colored skin in marked contrast to the sea-blue dress she wore. Her dark grey hair framed a face that wore an annoyed expression. "What is all this bellowing about? You are disturbing my guests. It is...unseemly."

Ahldblaet turned his severe gaze upon the new entrant. He was tall and exceptionally broad, a picture of strength in his youth, but his body had taken on a measure of fat in his older age and more sedentary work. Despite this, and his balding head of hair, his steely eyed expression still cowed many of the people he dealt with on a day to day basis. "It would seem, wife, that the enormous investment we have paid into those mercenaries we dispatched to Eorzea may have finally borne fruit. This is a missive their leader sent me. After our last communication I told him, in no uncertain terms, not to contact me until he had something of note to report. Unless he has foolishly ignored my orders, this would mean he has something."

The woman was not cowed, having long becoming immune to her husband's glares. Impatiently she gestured to the envelope. "Well, open it then, you great oaf! Maybe we will finally learn where our daughter vanished to!"

Ahldblaet tore the envelope and removed the missive inside. He began to read aloud, knowing from prior experience if he did not, his wife would snatch the paper from his hands mid-sentence. She was not a patient one.

"Masters Ahldblaet Fyrilberksyn and Lady Usynwyda Holaszirnwyn,

I am please to report that after much time and hard work on the part of the Emerald Marauders, we have located your wayward daughter. Furthermore, we have determined the reasoning as to why she evaded both us and every previous mercenary company your lordship sent to retrieve her

First, your daughter is no longer using her given name of Syhrwyda Ahldblaetwyn. Asking after that name yielded no results, aside from the merchants who recognized it only as pertaining to you. By sheer luck, we eventually stumbled across a Roegadyn language scholar who knew the translation of her first name and directed us to an adventurer known as 'Fearless Willow', one of the Warriors of Light.

I am hoping the story of the Warriors of Light does not require an explanation for your lordship, but I will remind you that these people are slayers of godlike beings who regularly enslave the minds of mortals around them, have engaged massive numbers of Garlean soldiers and magitek armor, defeated Imperial Legatuses in single combat (including the Crown Prince), and decisively ended a thousand-year war between a dragon horde and the nation of Ishgard.

From there, we set out to determine if this woman and your daughter are one and the same. It is well known that one of the Warriors of Light is in fact a Roegadyn woman, but we needed to be certain. Adventurers are often well traveled and thanks to the Aetheryte network, difficult to track. Your descriptions were also primarily of the physical sort, which did not help, as appearances are easy enough to change.

We caught a break in speaking to one of the mercenary crews you'd previously hired. Many of them had been either entirely wiped or or reduced in numbers to the degree that they'd disbanded. What few remained refused to speak with us once it became clear who we were tracking. One particular mercenary of an Ala Mhigan band (known as the Graybear Den, which if you recall abruptly returned your payment and refused the contract) however, let slip some valuable information after our agents plied him with enough drink. Once he realized who we were speaking of, he grew agitated and swore he would never help us find 'the Warrior o' Light". It would seem the Graybears believe they owed a measure of loyalty to the Warriors of LIght for their instrumental parts in liberating their homeland.

It was, however, enough. Once we determined that your daughter and this Warrior of Light were in fact one and the same, we began looking for ways to isolate her and take her prisoner. Unfortunately this has proven extremely difficult. As they are involved in affairs that affect the entirety of the star, the Warriors of Light are often on the move, moreso than normal adventurers. Furthermore, as I have mentioned, they are peerless warriors, often in each other's company or those of their fellow Scions of the Seventh Dawn. If you don't know the order, suffice to say they are Warriors and Scholars both who labor on behalf of all peoples to defend the world against tyranny and false gods. They are exceptionally successful in this regard. The Scions often meet and collaborate with the leaders of various powers on this continent, who are often accompanied by their own soldiers or bodyguards.

We have remained patient however, and managed to catch a glimpse of her. As I mentioned was likely, she has extensively changed her appearance. Her hair is now of a longer cut and nearly all black, with only highlights of the teal you had mentioned remaining. She has also taken to wearing dark makeup.

We have also determined that unlike her fellow Warriors of Light, she does not dwell in the Scion's headquarters. Instead, she has taken to living in the Hingashi port city of Kugane, where she has a modest home in the district of the city reserved for foreigners.

Finally, and you may wish to brace her ladyship for this part, she does not live there alone. Our spies have reported that her home is occupied by two other women, and their observations of them interacting within the city indicates that the three of them are lovers

We believe that this is our best shot at capturing her, but the price for her return to you has just doubled.

You are doubtless shaking with rage, but you hired us to retrieve a woman that you led us to believe would provide minimal resistance. Even isolated from the other Scions in Kugane, we believe we will face extreme resistance in this job. For starters, your daughter has mastered several forms of combat, including the ways of the Hingashi samurai, the axe-masters of Abalathia's Spine, and the art of thaumaturgy. She is also known to wield the Sharlayan art of Astrology, and has mastered a form of dance from Radz-at-Han that wields circular blades with deadly precision.

Furthermore, Fearless Willow is a known and loved name within the borders of Kugane, despite being a foreigner in a city that remains neutral to all concerns beyond their borders. She was instrumental in aiding their geomancers in repelling an attack from a fox-like beast known as 'Kinko' and she also trained alongside the Sekiseigumi (the samurai order that enforces the laws of the city, brutally so) and helped them put down a rebellion from within their own ranks. One of her lovers is a high ranking member of the Sekiseigumi. The other is a member of her dance troupe who is on an extended tour in the city. She is every bit as deadly in the art as Fearless is.

The point is that, even isolated from the other Scions, many people will rush to her aid. We expect heavy resistance and significant losses. The original reward will not suffice to cover this.

We will not move forward with this operation until we have your confirmation of acceptance of the new price. And we suggest you hurry, as events brewing suggest your daughter will soon be called back to the fight, at which point it is impossible to tell when we will have another opportunity

Cmdr Guji Pokiji Chief Executive, Emerald Marauders

Ahldblaet set the letter on his desk, shaking with rage as he looked to his wife."How DARE that miniscule INSECT think to extort us?? A Warrior of Light, indeed. As if our useless fool of a daughter has the brains to take on even one sort of combat discipline, much less five! How gullible does he THINK us to be?"

Usynwyda nodded, a disgusted sneer on her face. "The NERVE of her, to merely toss aside the name we chose for her, only to refer to herself in the....ugh...common tongue! Still, the name cannot be a coincidence. Whatever other lies that little gnat undoubtedly told, this is the best lead we have had on Syhrwyda since she ran away."

"It is. And if they are not all lies, then it is all the more imperative we retrieve her before word of any of this gets out among our enemies. The very idea that she would toss aside the husband we painstakingly chose for her after careful selection and delicate negotiation in favor of laying with another woman, much less two! I worried she would do stupid things, but this level of degeneracy, of abberance? It is unconscionable!"

Usynwyda shuddered. "We cannot let this get out. I can never face any of the ladies if they should learn my daughter has become no better than some...common whore. We must marry her off to the Greinmyrgan boy with all haste before she does any further damage to us, to the company."

Ahldblaet scribbled furiously. "I am already writing orders to have our ship made ready and for our elite guards to prepare for a journey. We will find her and we end this nonsense."

Far away, in Kugane, the Warrior of Light known as Fearless Willow shuddered as she prepared to fall asleep. She had no ping from the Echo, no signal from her finely honed danger sense to explain it, but she definitely felt as if trouble was heading her way, and no idea what it might be.

#FFXIV 2021 Writing Challenge #Final Fantasy XIV #Fearless Willow #God her parents are the worst #Hopefully I get to write about Rheika's mom at some point so I can have some good parent balance

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jimmyflemion · 3 years ago

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Hi everyone. The Spiritual album is here. Damaged Goods / Sinned in Reverse. Out now! Finally. Our album that has been talked about in interviews & the works for the last 30 years. Today digitally available everywhere. Always had it in mind for this to come out as an album in album form (who knows, maybe someday?) but now that it has been finished this seemed the perfect time for its release. Over the last 9 years all the song versions were listened to meticulously, chosen, vocals & instruments added & recorded, the theme of the story & running order placed in a schematic theme, mixed, mastered & the artwork went through several renovations until today as it stands in its completed form. Whenever it seemed like it was finished & patience had given out, there was that voice saying that when the time was right it would be ready. Why are any of us here? Our spirits, our souls, the learning, the forgetting, the remembering. What is my purpose? Is it something other than what I think it is? Am I supposed to be helping in some other way? I often ask myself these questions. Music always has given me hope to figure out these things & be good with myself & my choices, helping me to make sense. I often think of my sins & sins of omission words I feel I should have said or shouldn’t have said. The life I’ve led, previous lives. Being honest with myself & others & communicating my feelings freely & openly. Reflecting how my life would have changed dramatically. Often pointing the finger & not owning up to my own part in things. We all play a part in the communion. I’ve judged so much in my life. Through my own faults perceived through my own judgement, I become more & more conscientious & conscious & not so much on autopilot. For those I’ve hurt through my own neglect, I offer my sincere apologies. To be good with yourself & your pure refection brings peace. Myself & my brother were The Frogs. We grew up together, played & wrote songs entwining a world revered & a world despised & quickly scribed them with quill, in the end giving you the listeners your own choice in choosing where your heart aligns. From seeing both sides of characters as well as taking an honest look at ourselves, there began an introspection as to who we are as humans & it made its’ way into the work. We uncovered a society of depravity we had no intention of joining. Although given somewhat of a view of the music biz here & there from a ringside seat, in fact we were never invited to the party for we posed a threat in seeing through your false idol’s bullshit. We were different, we didn’t fit in & in retrospect a very good thing to be, working in our favor. But alas however cool or punk or whatever someone might think that might feel it took on an aura of loneliness. We were outsiders, who still in a way wanted for our ego’s sake (remember this is show biz, it takes some sort of ego to continue on, year after year) to be appreciated or make some sort of a living at this game. However, looking at things now, there really was never anything we missed out on, knowing how proud he was of me & I of him & what we set out to do through our creativity. I am reminded by a beautiful princess who once upon a time told me, we are all frogs. We are God’s children that keep getting turned into frogs & under the spell of the witches. The Frogs, the band represents all the frogs of the world. The Frogs, the band are the narrator, the storyteller as in the fairytale. The Frogs have their sweet revenge by flipping, showing the people thru song their own judgements of what beauty, evil, cruelty & perception of what is truth or not. You are the judge. It’s always been up to the listener of the message what they were to receive from it to learn or unlearn. Like a lot of music itself, it’s multilayered, multidimensional, the listener gets to decide what it means. We are all frogs, right & wrong, good & bad, ugly & beautiful, loving & hateful, mean & kind. We have a choice. Thru our own experience, we can heal & help to shine our light or to stay in the darkness & continue to judge all of it or accept & return to all that is within us which is love. & somewhere within all that we must not forget what they do to frogs in school’s biology class, cutting them open, dissecting removing parts showing children that it is ok in the name of science & men who eat & destroy the lives of children. Becoming comfortable with these ideas as if it’s cool or gross, not really understanding what they are doing. That which was once life, God’s creation lie there on the table, it represents us thru the fairytales. Being manipulated, being blinded from the day of our birth that we should be okay with all this and yet that is the great big lie too. The world you, we know/knew & the people of it that revel & cling to darkness remain at that vibration until they subscribe to the light. The light is for all yet some have an allergic reaction to it due to their disposition & judgement of the collective creation. The Frogs, myself and my brother spoke the truth about everything the 3rd dimensional world holds & ascending dimensions above. Together we were not puppets, poseurs, plagiarists or frauds, follow the long lost line of money, our trail is short. Those who hijack the heart will find & attract those of like. There remains nothing to be taught or learned for the kingdom of heaven is within, pretty simple. It’s easy to innerstand, if one makes a concerted conscious effort to spread love as opposed to their fascination with fear & pornographic obsession with death, which spoiler alert walks hand in hand with life. The music we created has nothing to do with “satire”, in fact at times there is no rhyme & reason & in times needed there is rhyme & reason. A fool auditions for a song, a wise man dresses up in costume, the world’s zoo comes to life & appears & disappears in illusion or what some call magic or a critic appears on notice to define art. There is a floodgate of material & songs to peruse & at times it makes the most sense to corral them conceptually. I used to be so concerned on being comprehended correctly to my liking but matters not. If I must spell it out, see how the Phoenicians, use their created language & words in plain sight, with the word spell to cast spells. In conclusion, the words with respect to the music are laced with wisdom. There is no other way. The goal, the direction, the soul purpose being co-creating beautiful sounds, energy & vibrations with the maker. In appreciation of creation. The heart beats, the world turns, the divine nature of the soul is changeless, without wavering, it answers the call of protecting & nurturing the mutual life force. Love avoids competition as it stands in its own sovereignty. ‘Tis the very common ground we all share & vibrate to. No one else can control our destiny, that which we were put on this plane, planet earth to fulfill. There was a shared mission only Dennis & I shared. The understanding & meaning that music in the right hands transforms the soul. Caging people, labeling, putting them in boxes, thinking these monsters own you is the absolute antithesis of love. The angels provide the roadmap, speak to them, I’ve spoken in song about freedom, having loved the show “Born Free” growing up under the Leo sign. I pray someday people that are real will find like minded humans & the fake actors satisfied with their empty empathy will have a true awakening. Judge much, yes but ‘tis a lonely world full of ghosts. So on a lighter note, as we float higher, what have I learned in all these years later 9 since Dennis has passed. What I’ve always known that I am so beyond blessed & grateful to have had him as my brother, how much love, care & detail he put into every moment of his life, how much he gave & how everything was a gift, how much he cherished life & being in everyone’s presence. His heart was always in the right place. An angel. Finally this album is the final Frogs album (the spiritual album that has been promised for years) 32 tracks, (number 5) Dennis & I were both number 5’s in our life paths. “damaged GOoDS / sinneD in Reverse” Damaged Goods / Dennis in Reverse In reality this album could not have been completed without the help of our dear friend Bjorn Thorsrud (additional production, mastering & editing) Dennis always wanted to have Bjorn work on this album & when he offered to help it was a GODsend. I devoted my heart & soul into this record & when I finally completed it on the final playback, I broke into tears, my only wish was for Dennis to be proud & happy with this record as a testament to The Frogs legacy. This album is in 432 hertz, the highest energy that governs the universe, vibrates with the earth’s heartbeat, the golden ratio, divine proportion. We made music because it brought us joy & made life such a wonderful experience. The telepathic musical communication Dennis & I shared is innerstood, felt inside. With regards to words they would have you say understood, but none of us is beneath or under where any other human soul stands, we are all equal & equally divine. I love Dennis with all my heart, always have & always will. I am so happy & thank creation so much that I was able to be here on this day to fulfill Dennis & my dream for you to hear this our final Frogs album. This album is for you all the fans who drove all over the country to come to our shows, stood in line, supported us at our merch booths. We started out having fun playing music together in the garage, writing songs in our bedrooms, had absolutely no idea any & all of this would have happened, well it couldn’t have happened without you our fans, we love each & every one of you for showering us with your love all of these years. This album is dedicated to the fans. Love, Jimmy

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soranihimawari · 4 years ago

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day 1: shenanigans

foxes den shenanigan (1)

summary: snippets into the slice of life of being one of the few young women who interact with the inarizaki volleyball club. every member is all tough on the outside until they meet kira, yn: the one who had been neighbors with the miya twins all her life. her best friend, nakiri-chan, is convinced at least once in their life all three of them (osamu, kira, and atsumu) had loved each other. this mini series is a going to be a little reflective, a little dramatic, and overall deals with themes of growing up to learn the difference of love.

genre: slice of life/ angsty-teen love/ rated pg-15+ for language and juxtopostional humour.

<< |master list| >>

-------[Inarazaki High School, 11:47 a.m.]-------

“you can’t be serious,” my best friend’s voice of disbelief tells me. we were on lunch break when we decided to head to the vending machines by the gym. there were various students talking amongst themselves buzzing with excitement for the annual art festival.

“oh, but i am,” i said. i took a deep breath when i gripped her shoulders. upon my exhale i nodded.

“b-but your class representative said your homeroom was putting together a maid cafe all because she found out you know how to bake?”

“i blame the last bake sale my cooking club did to raise funds for a new mixer. all the members of the boys’ volleyball team bought a bag of my ‘cosmic star’ cookies.“

“i see. well, it can’t be all that bad, right? if you’re going to be the one coming up with the menu and the baked treats, you don’t really have to wear the maid outfit.”

i hum in response when i place my bill into the machine. the vending machine rumbles before dropping my can of mango nectar. once she buys her drink, she and i head back to our class on the third floor; before we separate, she wishes me luck with coming up with the menu.

“so, what did you have in mind kira-chan?”

“macaroons and maybe tarts. i don’t know what kind yet though. i’ll see ya after classes are over so we can walk home together. later nakiri-san!”

***

the day of the festival approached even faster than you had thought. after many attempts at making various macaroon flavors and tart ideas that paired well with the boba-styled drinks being served, me and the other bakery/cafe volunteers were ready for business. the other students in your class were divided between servers and baristas. the girls and boys who were selected as the maids and butlers were thankfully the only ones that had to wear the full garb. since it was the day before the festival, i decided to do a sampling of the sweets i chose to make for the servers and baristas so they can help our prospective customers tomorrow with describing the menu items. my fellow classmates, the team of five standing next to me (our bakers team consisted of six), were able to try out their own treats and thanked me for showing them how to make the treats. aside from macaroons and cookies, we collectively added two parfait flavors: one was strawberry themed for our school colors and the other was themed around sunset colors.

before the meeting was adjourned, i breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing the news from our class rep up until she mentioned something about the bakery staff wearing cat ears and other nicknacks of cafe worker approved jewelry. when i got home that evening, i screamed into my pillow to relieve some excess stress over the maid cafe.

i immediately called my neighbor and although i wasn’t expecting him to answer the phone, i felt relief wash over me when i heard his normal greeting on the other end:

“miya residence and no, atsumu isn’t the better twin.”

i chuckled at his statement. after years of living next door to them, i can only say that miya osamu was right (also, he was the first person to express the same level of joy in cooking for others). he immediately cleared his throat when he heard me laugh.

“ahem. oh, hey kira-san. what’s up?”

i am not surprised i heard a short lived scuffle in the background as well as atsumums “ack!” in the background followed by a soft thud that only chucking a pillow could have made.

“osamu? it’s me. say, do you still have the cat ear hair clips from last halloween?”

***

the festival was in full swing: streamers lined the hallways as the people visiting came to enjoy what our school had to offer. i heard from nakiri that her class voted on doing a paint by numbers mural. other classes in our year were doing their renditions of living portraits and face painting. apparently, my class along with our neighbors across the hall divided up the cafeteria to encompass both a savory restaurant booth along with our class’ maid cafe.

i was busy with the other members of my team making sure orders were being ran on time while placing the finishing touches for the treats on the tray. even though i was allowed to wear my pistaschio green chef coat, i couldn’t get away with just wearing a macaroon earrings. to push my bangs back, i had a pair of cat ears clipped into my hair.

“shift change kira-san!” my class rep’s voice said in an exuberant manner. she was in charge of patrolling the hallway trying to gather more guests to come into our side of the cafeteria. business was steady to say the least, but i recalled i had signed up to take over the advertising part once hers was over.

“ok! can you give me a few minutes? i need to fix my make up real quick.”

elsewhere, the members of the inarizaki volleyball team were seen wandering around campus enjoying the festival. the twins along with suna had long sinced branched off and found nakiri’s class.

“hey guys! come to paint?” she offered them a sponge brush and a little to-go container.

“isn’t kira-chan supposed to be with you?” osamu asked perplexed i wasn’t near by.

“yeah, aren’t you two joined at the hip?” his brother chimed in. nakiri rolled her eyes at the blond before shaking her head.

“oh? you didn’t hear?” nakiri asked slightly taken aback by his question.

right at that moment, nakiri pointed behind the boys toward where i was standing speaking with over festival goers who were looking at the menu for my class’ cafe. i had a smile on my face when the guests mentioned they’d absolutely stopped by for a refreshing treat. when they waved their good bye to me, i was suddenly greeted by a different family who asked what i would recommend for their five year old (while they would opt for teas, their child really wanted something sweet). after asking a few questions (are they allergic to anything? does their child prefer strawberries or oranges? etc), i pointed out our strawberry parfait as a great option for them to all share.

“i heard one class chose to do a dessert cafe, but i didn’t think it would be a maid cafe,” rintarou stated flatly. he took the paint and the brush from nakiri before stepping inside to paint his section of the mural. on the other hand, the blond twin elbowed his brother. there was a teasing glint in his eyes.

“kira-san looks really cute, doesn’t she ‘samu?”

nakiri caught on to how pink the gray haired twin’s cheek became when his brother teased him. for the life of him, osamu couldn’t help but wonder why his neighbor called him asking to borrow the cat ear clips the night prior and now it was all making sense.

“shut it atsumu.”

“hmm,” nakiri hummed. she tapped her index finger on her lips in thought. “my shift is almost over for the hour, so why don’t we all go visit the cafe, yeah?”

***

“oh my god!”

my class rep burst through the kitchen doors again when my shift was over causing me to almost drop the parfait in my hands. i had successfully placed the dessert on the tray. one of the front of house staff members gripped her shoulders to calm her down a bit. thankfully, none of the ingrients toppled over, but we did lose a cookie straw in the process.

“breathe class rep,” i saidx. i was trying really hard to not laugh at her panicked expresion. “what’s going on?”

“h-hot miya twins outside.”

that was all i needed to hear before i pinched the bridge of my nose before cursing my best friend and her family nine generations back for slipping out my secret assignment for the festival.

seeing my neighbors through the window of the kitchen swing doors was honestly the last thing i needed today, but of course we couldn’t always win the fortune of the gods. mumbling a quick, ‘the gods are testing me again,’ caused one of the cooks to snicker. to be fair, i could live without the thought of hearing atsumu’s teasing jokes or osamu’s sass, but alas, i did not win fortune’s favor that hour. also, this was the last outfit they’d expect to see me in because half of the volleyball team had tried (keyword:tried) to get me into a maid outfit for y e a r s. that campaign stopped as soon as shinsuke became captain.

“they’re asking for you to serve them too,” the front of house manager said when he walked into the kitchen shortly thereafter. i was having a good day up until this turn of events, and although it took every fiber of my being to not kill those two, i realized i should handle this in an appropriate manner. i mentioned i’ll handle it relinquishing my duties to my second.

when i walked outside, i noticed that not only were my twin neighbors outside, they also sent a text to their entire team asking to visit the cafe area. i calmly turn my lips upward in a saccharine smile as i approached their table. it’s the same familiar smile which caused atsumu and osamu’s blood to run cold; they knew i was pissed as soon as i let the spirit of customer service take over my body.

“welcome to the foxes’ den masters,” i greeted them with a bow. “how may i be of service?”

atsumu’s eyes bounced back and forth between me and his brother who seemed to have found the parfaits description very interesting.

“can i order something off the menu?” atsumu asked in a teasing way. if looks could kill, i’d sent the setter back home with a killer bruise on his shoulder, yet I remember how violence is frowned upon at a festival.

seeing as i did not object to his question when i replied with, “if it is your wish master.”

“can i buy an hour of your time from ya for my dearest younger brother?”

i blinked caught off guard by his forwardness on his twin’s behalf. all of our patrons had ceased speaking to other members of their parties after hearing his proposal. where was a pillow when i needed to scream into one? all color drained from osamu’s face. nakiri looked just as shocked as i was mouthing a ‘sorry’ toward me; she gave me an encouraging smile. (it’s been four years since both of the miya siblings gifted me friendship chocolates on white day as an apology for poking fun at my wacky homemade candies. my parental figure thought it would have been nice to make some for the neighbors’ twins in middle school.)

my smile disappeared while i pondered my answer to the setter’s eager eyes. to spare both osamu and i further embarrassment, I spoke the first thing that came to my mind:

“if that is what your brother wishes, young master, then he should ask me himself,” i said kindly.

this caught osamu’s attention real quick; his eyes snapped up at me with a curious stare. suna had his phone out obviously documenting the whole thing. i tilt my head to the side and posed my hands under my chin prentending to think before i shrugged.

“he should also know that my shift ends at five-thirty and he should meet me here if he doesn’t mind walking me home. now, if you’ll excuse me, i have to garnish table seven’s parfaits.”

the murmurs of conversations began up again once i bowed and took my leave back into the kitchen. the last thing i heard was nakiri laughing as atsumu exclaimed that they were seated at the table i mentioned and osamu claiming that he’d kill his brother for fourth time that day.

“i’ll have you know that i could have asked her at any time right?” osamu seethed. “i don’t need you to line up dates for me.”

“yeah, yeah. you hate me, i hate you. we punch each other a little, and then you get to date kira since you’re clearly not going to do anything about this one sided love you think you two have,” atsumu said before resting his chin on his hand. suna caught what atsumu said all on the video he was recording, including nikiri’s stunned face.

“woah, back the fun bus up. seriously?!” she asked. “no wonder kira had been acting a bit more strictly with her recipes lately. look at the little drawings on the menu.”

she was quick to point out the little drawings of the chibi macaroons (“one was blueberry the other was mango orange, a silent reference to you three’s friendship,” she briefly explained) the design team made and colored.

“must be true, look at how red his cheeks are becoming & i don’t think that’s because of anger,” suna replied.

“c‘ mon, let’s go.” atsumu suggests, rising from the table. “i suddenly recall having passed by the boardwalk games section. osamu, you stay here and tell me what i should order.”

—to be continued—

#miya osamu x fem!reader #reader 1st person pov #the foxes den cafe shenanigans #part 1 of a mini series #school festivals and a half assed confession #whatever it is it’s ‘Tsumu’s fault #sora events 2020™️

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upontheshelfreviews · 5 years ago

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Whenever I discuss Sleeping Beauty with someone who doesn’t share my enthusiasm for Disney, they have an irksome tendency to get it muddled with Snow White; their excuse being “it has the same plot”. I’ll admit, there are some surface similarities that even the most casual viewer can pick up on: a fairytale where a princess is forced into unconsciousness and wakes up with some necking, the comic relief and villain being the most beloved characters, a little frolic in the forest with animals, the antagonist plunging off a cliff, you get the idea. In fact, Sleeping Beauty even reuses some discarded story beats from Snow White, mainly our couple dancing on a cloud and the villain capturing the prince to prevent him from waking his princess. Yet despite that, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty are two wholly different movies shaped by the era and talents of the time.

I’ve discussed how Walt Disney was never one to stick to a repeated formula, no matter how successful it was. He must have noticed the parallels between his first movie and this one, but decided to make one crucial change for Sleeping Beauty that would forever differentiate the two: the look. We all know the traditional Disney house style: round, soft shapes, big eyes; charming as it was and still is, Walt was sick of it after several decades. Meanwhile, artists like Mary Blair and Eyvind Earle were producing gorgeous concept art that rarely made a perfect translation into the Disney house style.

Walt wanted to make a feature that took the pop artistry of their designs and made the animation work for it instead of the other way around – which brings us to another animation studio that was doing well at the time, United Pictures Animation, or UPA.

UPA didn’t have the kind of budget Disney normally had for their animated projects, but what they lacked in fluidity they made up for in style. Watch The Tell-Tale Heart, Gerald McBoing-Boing and Rooty-Toot-Toot to see what I mean. UPA were pioneers of limited animation, taking their scant resources and creating some striking visuals with bold geometric designs. Through this, they defined the look of 50’s animation. Though perhaps unintentional, Sleeping Beauty comes across as Disney’s response to UPA, or what would happen if UPA had the funds they deserved. The characters’ contours are angular but effortlessly graceful, defining their inherent dignity and royalty. And the colors, ohhh the colors…

Because of the immense amount of work required to animate in this difficult new style (and in the Cinemascope ratio, no less) as well as story troubles and Walt barely supervising the animation studio now that he had his hands full with live-action films, television, and a theme park, Sleeping Beauty had a turbulent production that lasted the entirety of the 1950s. For a time, Chuck Jones of Looney Tunes fame was set to direct. Director Wilfred Jackson suffered a heart attack partway through production and Eric Larson, one of the Nine Old Men, took the mantle from there before Walt Disney replaced him Clyde Geronimi. And even after that, Wolfgang Reitherman teamed up with Geronimi as co-director to get the film finished after no less than three delays. Also, Don Bluth got his foot in the door as an assistant animator for this feature, beginning his short-lived but impactful tenure at Disney. Did all this hamper the movie, or did they succeed in what they set out to accomplish?

Well, one of the reasons why this review took so long was because I had a hard time not repeating “MOVIE PRETTY” and “MALEFICENT AWESOME” over and over. Make what you will of that.

The story begins as most fairy tales do with your typical king, Stefan, and his queen suddenly blessed with a baby girl after years of wishing for a child. They christen their daughter Aurora (middle name Borealis, localized entirely within their castle) and throw a huge celebration in her honor. People come from all over the kingdom to pay homage to the princess and OSMKFKSBFHFGILWBHBFC…

Movie pretty…

MOVIE PRETTIEEEEEE…

John Hench, Academy Award-winning special effects man and art director, turned Walt on to the idea of basing the look of Sleeping Beauty on classic medieval artwork. Thanks to him and Eyvind Earle’s insanely detailed designs and backgrounds, this is one of Disney’s most visually distinct and beautiful films. A single still from this feature wouldn’t feel out of place up in The Cloisters.

Among the party guests is King Stefan’s old friend King Hubert (Bill Thompson) bringing his young son Prince Philip. Stefan and Hubert wish to unite their two kingdoms and formally announce Philip’s betrothal to the infant Aurora.

“We were going to do it during the second trimester, but we decided to wait until she was more mature.”

By the way, your eyes are not deceiving you. That is Aurora’s mother, Queen Leah, alive and well and named. And frabjous day calloo callay, she even gets some lines! The most common joke about Disney princesses is that they don’t have moms (even Ralph Breaks The Internet went out of its way to highlight that), so as a hardcore Disney fan who often has to put up with this generalization, Leah’s existence leaves me feeling vindicated.

Once that happy revelation is out of the way, we’re introduced to our main protagonists.

Oh, you thought I was referring to Philip and Aurora? Nonononono, my friends. THESE are the true heroes of Sleeping Beauty, the Three Good Fairies.

The fairies started off as one-note side characters sharing the same personality. Think pre-Ducktales-reboot Huey, Dewey, and Louie in dresses. But the studio had a difficult time giving Aurora more depth and was having a lot more fun developing the fairies. Naturally, they became so fascinating and appealing that more screentime was given over to them. Now the story’s carried by three wonderfully fleshed out ladies who are distinct in both looks and personality: Flora’s the pragmatic tradition-adhering leader, Fauna’s the sweet scatterbrain who mediates, and Merryweather’s the feisty young upstart.

With the plot now focused on characters who held a traditionally minor role, it’s easy to read this as a perspective-flipped version of the fairytale, but there’s more to it than that. Remember in my Clash of the Titans review how I mentioned the gods literally play chess using the heroes as pieces? I tend to view the main conflict of Sleeping Beauty in the same way. The Three Fairies and Maleficent are in a constant game of good vs. evil, moving Aurora, Philip, and the rest of the royals as pawns in their plans. There’s plenty of plotting and intrigue, with both sides constantly guessing and second-guessing the other’s next maneuver, and even if you’re already familiar with the story’s trajectory you’re still left on the edge of your seat as it inches towards the fiery climax.

And dare I say it but…the fairies and their power dynamic make this Disney’s most feminist film. Yes, really. You could argue that some of the other animated movies from the Renaissance and Revival period have more notable, stronger female protagonists, and many of the live-action remakes try to be woke without really grasping the concept, but consider this: The cast of Sleeping Beauty is mostly female, the leads aren’t objectified in any manner (that is if you count Aurora as a supporting character), nor does their gender factor into their competency, each one differs in age and body type, and most of them are working together towards a common goal as opposed to against each other. Name a movie in the past decade that does the same and still manages to be entertaining (no, really, I’d love to see it). There’s even one scene that unintentionally provides great commentary on the divides in the feminist movement, but more on that later.

Flora and Fauna bless the baby with beauty and song respectively which are accompanied by a short chorus and some sumptuous graphics. I don’t think I need to reiterate that when this movie goes extra with the visuals, it GOES EXTRA with the visuals. Next comes Merryweather with her gift. To this day, no one knows what Merryweather intended to give Aurora. Flora’s the most traditionally feminine of the three so her giving Aurora beauty comes as no surprise. By comparison, Merryweather is the most forward (or unconventional, depending on your point of view). I wouldn’t put it past her to favor Aurora with intelligence, or humor, or passion, or creativity or humility or confidence or decisiveness or physical fitness or great swordsmanship or telekinesis or ice powers or one million YouTube subscribers or comfort in her female sexuality.

Me personally, I think I’ve got the best gift of all:

“O Princess, my gift shall be…getting all reviews posted on time for once!”

Alas, before Merryweather can bestow such a wondrous quality upon the child, she’s interrupted by a horny party crasher.

Maleficent. The Mistress of All Evil. Chernabog’s right-hand witch. The Disney villain all Disney villains strive to be. She has it all – the looks, the poise, the power, the laugh, the cunning, the ruthlessness! She doesn’t even need to sing a song because she’s already awesome enough without one. Marc Davis’ gothic design cuts a fine figure and Eleanor Audley’s subtle icy voicework is trés magnifique. As much as I enjoy Audley as Cinderella’s evil stepmother, Lady Tremaine was but an appetizer in comparison to the four-course banquet of pure villainy that is Maleficent.

This leads to a small point of contention some viewers have with Maleficent in spite of hitting top marks elsewhere: her motivation. Putting a hit out on a child for not getting invited to a measly party? Not exactly compelling, is it? And yes, it isn’t a deep motive…is what I would say if I wasn’t well-versed in folkloric tradition. In the original fairy tale and the movie (though it isn’t outright stated in the latter), the party for Aurora isn’t just your average royal kegger, it’s a christening. Back in ye olden days, christenings were very big deals. To not receive an invitation to one was a grave insult, so not extending an invite to your semi-omnipotent magical neighbor is just asking for trouble. In the fairy tale’s defense, no one had seen the evil fairy for years and assumed she was dead, though I can’t imagine how nobody thought Maleficent wouldn’t find about it eventually.

“You dare to deny me, foolish mortals? Very well, then! I shall have my own christening! With blackjack! And strumpets!”

Maleficent is proof that sometimes you don’t have to have an elaborate backstory, a god complex, a tragic past or the unfortunate luck to be on the wrong side of a conflict. Sometimes all you need is some magic, brains, class, and a whole lot of flair to be a perfect, intimidating, and unquestionably iconic villain.

Basically what I’m saying is these movies never happened. Got it?

Maleficent is disarmingly polite over being snubbed, even after Merryweather bluntly tells her nobody wanted her to come. She even brought her own gift for the baby – sixteen years of life cut short by the prick of a spinning wheel spindle, because why change into a dragon and destroy everyone all at once when you can draw the torture out over an agonizingly long time and deliver the coup de grace in the prime of a young woman’s life? That’s how Maleficent rolls, baby. She could dole out capital punishment when she has to without batting an eyelid, but causing human suffering is her bread and butter.

Stefan begs the fairies to undo Maleficent’s curse, but it’s too strong for them. Flora and Fauna insist, however, that Merryweather can use her gift to lessen the spell’s potency. Now instead of dying from that fatal prick, Aurora will sleep until she receives True Love’s Kiss™. Stefan’s not one to throw caution to the wind though, so he orders all of the kingdom’s spinning wheels to be burned in the meantime.

I just pray his kingdom’s economy wasn’t based on textiles otherwise they’re screwed.

As the peasantry celebrates Guy Fawkes Day several centuries early, the fairies ponder their next move. They’ve been around long enough to know that removing spinning wheels from the equation won’t put a damper on Maleficent’s scheme. This scene is incredibly effective in establishing two things:

Maleficent’s near-omniscient presence in the film

How well the fairies’ differing personalities play off each other

Maleficent rarely miscalculates her opponents, and that guile puts her one step ahead of the heroes, making her one of the few Disney villains to nearly reach their goal. The only mistake she makes in the entire movie is trusting her henchmen to do their jobs when she isn’t directly supervising them, though that’s more on them than her. The different methods the fairies propose to deal with Maleficent fantastically illustrate what kind of people they are. Fauna believes she’s just a miserable soul who could be reasoned with if they talk things over. Merryweather would rather take the fight to Maleficent and turn her into a toad. Flora, however, is wise enough to know Maleficent’s too wicked to plead to, too clever to bargain with and too strong to face head-on, so their best course of action is to focus on protecting Aurora through any means necessary. Her initial idea is to enchant the princess into a flower (her namesake is her specialty, after all), but Merryweather reminds her that Maleficent enjoys creating bitter frosts just to kill her flowers.

“Well we could try that but stick her in a castle with a beast for a while…nah, that’ll never work.”

Yet never one to give up, Flora alters the plan so they’ll raise Aurora as a peasant girl out in the woods. This means disguising themselves as humans and giving up magic for sixteen years so as to not attract Maleficent, but that amount of time is like twenty minutes to the fair folk. Stefan and Leah reluctantly agree to the plan, and the fairies spirit little Aurora away from the castle that very night.

Sixteen years later, Maleficent is infuriated that her minions have failed to locate Aurora, even more so when one reveals that they’ve spent the whole time looking for a baby instead of a maturing woman. In an interview with the Rotoscopers podcast, Don Bluth called Maleficent a very flat antagonist because she surrounds lackeys dumber than her so she could be the smart one among them and, again, her supposed lack of motivation. But come on, let’s not entirely condemn the bad guys for having too much faith in their underlings. It’s difficult to find minions smart enough to carry out orders but dumb enough to stay unquestioningly loyal. Usually you have to register as Republican in order to get some.

Maleficent gets her anger out in the most therapeutic way – throwing lightning bolts at her orcs, awesome – then leaves the job of finding Aurora up to her trusty raven Diablo. We then finally see the grown-up Aurora herself, whom the fairies renamed Briar Rose as a nod to the Brothers Grimm version of this tale.

I know I’ve made the occasional case for the princesses from Walt’s era compared to the present day, and yet I have a hard time defending how…I don’t want to say bland. Bland would mean there’s nothing interesting about Aurora, and that’s a lie. She’s gorgeously designed and drawn, and even in her peasant dress she has an air of elegance and sophistication. She carries herself like a queen; her innate royalty reveals itself in her graceful movements. Mary Costa also gifts her with an excellent set of pipes. Hearing her song echoing through the forest is nothing short of magical. She’s a flower child who can talk to animals. She has dreams of escaping her adopted aunts’ loving but stifling care and being allowed to grow up, see the world, actually talk to people, and even find a life partner. She has some strong potential. It’s not that Aurora’s boring, she’s just not quite as developed as we’ve come to expect our animated female protagonists to be. I’m grateful for what we’ve got, but I only wish we could have more. What was her childhood like? How did she learn to communicate with animals? When did the fairies trust her enough to let her spend time out on her own? Did the fairies ever subtly teach her lessons in royalty through lessons and games? Heck, nobody bothers to keep her informed about Maleficent or her curse, and they act surprised when she’s shocked to learn she was a princess the whole time. I want to see what Aurora could have been like if she had known the truth already and what kind of steps she would take to defend herself. Blame the source material for this; it’s difficult to write a compelling main character when she’s supposed to sleep through most of her story.

The fairies send Aurora on a fetch quest so they can plan a surprise birthday party for her. Merryweather wants to bring their magic wands back out for the job, but Flora insists on taking no chances now that they’re in the home stretch. Fauna gets to live her dream of baking an elaborate cake (it’s thanks to her referring to a teaspoon as a “tsp” that I do it too), and Flora insists on making Aurora a gown fit for a princess using Merryweather as a dummy. And we also get one of the best burns in the Disney canon:

Merryweather: It looks awful! Flora: That’s because it’s on you, dear.

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The fairies fall into reminiscing over raising Aurora and get teary over having to let her go soon. I see where they’re coming from, they’re the ones who raised her for sixteen years. They must have so many fond memories, not to mention they put all that work into learning to properly raise a child let alone live like normal human beings seeing how two of them still can’t sew or cook without magic. I wonder what that was like –

No, NO, you CGI abominations DO NOT exist! Go back to the fires from whence you came!!

“Ugh, I’m gonna need something strong to expunge that from my eyes.”

There we go.

Aurora wanders through the forest, drawing out the usual bevy of cute woodland critters with her singing. She also catches the attention of a grown-up Prince Philip (Billy Shirley) who’s more dashing and considerably less blonde than he was sixteen years ago.

By this point, the Disney animators were far more confident in their ability to draw realistic but expressive leading men, hence Philip’s expanded role from the story. He’s also the first Disney prince to have a personality; not a terribly deep or defined one, but it’s a step up from his nameless plot-device predecessors. There are some signs of him being a hopeless romantic, he gets a few funny lines here and there, has a sturdy friendship with his horse Samson, and is fiercely determined when it’s time to kick some ass. He does have the same problem as Aurora in he randomly decides to stop talking for the rest of the movie once he reaches the midway mark (at least Aurora has the excuse that she’s sleeping for that remainder), but I suppose you could chalk this up as to him wanting to spite Maleficent with his silence.

The animals steal some of Philip’s clothes so they can pretend to be Aurora’s dream prince. Aurora plays along as she sings the movie’s standout song, “Once Upon a Dream”. Philip and Samson watch until he smooths his way into the dance. Once Aurora discovers the switch, Philip gets a little too up in her personal space for my liking, constantly grabbing her hand so she doesn’t run off and pulling her closer to him. Not as horrible as what the prince does to the sleeping princess in the original story (a questionably consensual kiss is a trifle compared to how the scumbag of a prince treats her there), but still a bit iffy.

“It’s a good thing my aunts taught me to never go anywhere without a loaded pistol taped to my back.”

But once Philip backs off a little and joins in her song, they both dance together and OEHSGBJSGBLL…

I think I’m going to need surgery to get my jaw off the floor back into its proper place thanks to this movie.

As per Disney tradition, Aurora and Philip’s waltz means the two are head over heels in love with each other. But when it comes time to finally exchange names, Aurora panics and runs away, though she sticks around long enough to tell Philip to meet her family at the cottage that evening.

Back at home, the party preparations aren’t proceeding as planned. Flora’s dress looks as good as my attempts at dressmaking, and Fauna’s dessert wouldn’t feel out of place on Cake Wrecks.

A fed-up Merryweather reads Flora and Fauna the riot act and convinces them to finally take up their wands again. This produces more desirable results, though Merryweather still gets stuck with cleanup duty.

Enchanting a broom to come to life and do your dirty work? I don’t see this going wrong in any possible way.

Things start to go south when Flora and Merryweather argue over the dress color and it escalates into a full-blown wizard’s duel. This gag was supposedly based on the animators’ arguments over what was Aurora’s proper dress color. I think they should have compromised and combined both colors to make purple, which would go lovely with Aurora’s violet eyes, but what do I know. I’m just the illustration major writing a blog. Unfortunately, while the fairies remembered to cover every door, window, and crack that could expose their magic, they overlooked the fireplace. The sparkly residue of Flora and Merryweather’s fight fly up the chimney, alerting Diablo to their hideaway.

Going back to what I said earlier about this movie providing some commentary on feminism, consider this: Flora is obsessed with pink, a traditionally female color, and she gives Aurora an attribute that is oft preferred in a woman but not the most important quality, beauty. Merryweather, on the other hand, is all about blue, a color usually geared towards boys, and she has much more common sense and practicality about her. Though Merryweather and Flora are able to put aside their differences in personalities and approaches for a common goal, it’s when they refuse to compromise and begin prioritizing which color – ie. which ideology and extension of themselves – that they want Aurora to step into that they lose sight of what’s important, and allow everything they worked for to collapse on itself. It’s played for laughs very well, sure, but if not’s symbolic of the dichotomy between traditional femininity and modern sensibility that tears apart the feminist movement then I don’t know what is.

The fairies manage to fix their messes in time for Aurora’s return. She’s thrilled with their gifts but shocks them all when she announces her new boyfriend is coming over for dinner. They come clean about her heritage and betrothal to Prince Philip, and Aurora runs up to her room in tears over the fact that she’ll never see her one true love again. That and her entire life has been a lie and she’s being carted off to meet parents she knows nothing about to marry a man she’s never met and rule an entire kingdom with no prior experience or knowledge. But mostly the true love thing.

Meanwhile, Stefan and Hubert are making wedding plans over wine with “Skumps”, the preferred toast between me and my friends. Also adding to the humor is a minstrel who keeps stealing sips until he literally drinks himself under the table.

This was also his way of getting through the Black Plague, co-opted by the rest of the world six hundred years later.

Philip returns and Hubert goes to greet him. He thinks his son is thrilled at the prospect of marrying Aurora but is disappointed to learn that he’s fallen for an anonymous peasant.

“At least tell me if she’s royalty in disguise so you don’t elope to Sicily!”

Philip rides back into the woods for his big date, leaving Hubert with the unenviable task of breaking the bad news to Stefan. As for Aurora, the fairies smuggle her into the castle and prep her for her homecoming. She’s still blue over having to ghost her forest hubby though, so the fairies give her some time to herself.

Biiiiiiiiig mistake.

So imagine you’re me, growing up watching this movie on tape on a television set with a very standard but not spectacular sound system. Then years later you download the remastered soundtrack and give it a listen while you’re falling asleep. You’ve got the whole score memorized, the volume is nice and low, it’s all good.

And then, just as you’re drifting off, you hear a ghostly voice singing in your ear “Auroraaa…Auroraaaaa…”

That reminds me, I haven’t had a chance to talk about the music yet, haven’t I? Forgive me for waiting so long to do so but my reaction to it is equivalent to the visuals. The score is taken straight from the Sleeping Beauty ballet by Tchaikovsky, the same composer as The Nutcracker, and it is lush, sweeping, sumptuous, just…

While George Bruns was mostly faithful with how the score was represented within the context of the ballet, at certain points he took the same approach as The Nutcracker Prince and rearranged the music order to underscore totally different scenes to staggering effect. The beautifully ominous music where Maleficent appears as a ball of green flame and leads the hypnotized Aurora to her doom? It’s from one of the ballet’s divertissements where Puss in Boots dances with his girlfriend. But tell me which is more fitting for a musical composition such as this – two cats pirouetting around each other in a crowded ballroom, or eerie pitch-black spiral staircases illuminated by green fire as a cursed princess inches closer to her dark destiny against her will?

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The fairies realize their error and frantically search the maze of secret passages for Aurora. Though the princess resists Maleficent’s commands for only a moment, they are still too late to save her from fulfilling the curse. Maleficent gloats and leaves the fairies to wallow in their failure. It’s made even worse as the merrymaking from the oblivious revelers below ring out while they put Aurora to bed in a tower and mourn over her. It’s heartbreaking: they raised and loved her as if she were their own daughter, and they still couldn’t protect her. Everyone talks about “Baby Mine” and Bambi’s mom as huge tearjerkers, but why is this scene constantly forgotten?

Stupid onions, stupid stupid onions…

Fauna and Merryweather can’t even begin to imagine how heartbroken Stefan and Leah will be, but Flora has a solution: put the kingdom to sleep along with Aurora until she is woken up. I understand her wanting to spare Aurora’s family some pain, but conking out an entire principality for god knows how long to cover up their failure? AND at a time when Europe was all about invading and conquering itself? Are we sure this isn’t just part of Maleficent’s overarching plan for revenge? This sounds more like something she would come up with instead of the leader of the good guys.

“So what happens if one of the neighboring kingdoms decides to attack while everyone’s sleeping?”

“Then we’ll put them and their armies to sleep, too.”

“And once Aurora is saved, both kingdoms will immediately wake up to find themselves thrust into a war they’re barely prepared for, is that correct?”

“Oh, you’re right, that’s a terrible idea.”

“Finally, thank you.”

“I’ll just turn them all into flowers.”

“THAT’S NOT AN OPTION!!!”

The fairies flitter about the castle grounds spreading their spell over the unwitting royal court, even putting the candles and sconces out. We have another reprise of the “Gifts of Beauty and Song” chorus now altered to sound like a lullaby, providing an interesting bit of symmetry between it and its earlier use in the film. Whereas it first underscored their blessings upon Aurora, now it plays as the fairies are giving the “gift” of sleep to the entire castle.

While Flora knocks out the throne room, she overhears Hubert muttering about Philip eloping with a peasant girl and she makes the connection. The fairies speed to the cottage just as Philip arrives there. But once again Maleficent beats them to the punch. Her goons ambush Philip and she watches them wrestle and bond him with fiendish glee.

You magnificent, kinky bitch.

Maleficent was only out to capture the one man who could break Aurora’s curse; the fact that he’s really the son of her nemesis’ allies is just icing on the cake. Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather resolve to rescue him from Maleficent’s fortress in the Forbidden Mountain.

Some movies reach the brink of greatness only to falter when it comes to the final act. Sleeping Beauty is not one of them. Everything that happens from the moment we slowly zoom in through the purple mist on to the Forbidden Mountain itself up until the storybook closes is perfection. The perfectly paced action, the animation, the music, Maleficent’s hideaway in all its decaying glory (I swear it’s like Jean Cocteau meets Frank Frazetta meets Giotto) all make for the climax of climaxes.

The fairies shrink to insect size and silently sneak through Maleficent’s creepy domain, narrowly running into guards and gargoyles at every turn. They traverse the stronghold until they find her overseeing a hellish bacchanalia in honor of her supposed victory.

“My old gaffer would have a thing or two to say if he could see us now.”

Soon Maleficent gets bored and goes to “cheer up” her captive. Then we have it: The Moment.

I’ve talked about this before, that one small, devious step further the villain takes to make themselves more heinous in our eyes. It’s the Wicked Witch taunting Dorothy with visions of Aunt Em. It’s the Beldam hanging Other Wybie’s remains. It’s virtually everything Heath Ledger’s Joker does. And it is this simple scene where Maleficent details what she plans to do with Philip. She spins “a charming fairy tale come true” of Aurora sleeping without aging, waiting for her prince to come to wake her. And Philip will escape the dungeon, ride to her rescue and prove true love conquers all – in one hundred years, when he’s a broken old husk of a man on the brink of death. DAMN. If you want to know why Maleficent is considered the best of all the Disney villains, it’s not just all her previously praised qualities, it’s her sheer sadism and the pleasure she takes in it.

The fairies enter and free Philip once Maleficent departs. The course of true love never runs smoothly though, so they arm him with the Shield of Virtue (licensed by Carefree Maxi-Pads), and the Sword of Truth to aid in his escape.

“So, why’s it called the Sword of Truth?”

“Anyone who’s subjected to it speaks only the truth…as they bleed out and die, of course.”

“Cool, cool. On an unrelated note, I think I’m gonna go to DC for my honeymoon.”

Diablo sounds the alarm and the Battle With the Forces of Evil kicks off with Philip slashing his Sword of Truth through Maleficent’s goons.

“I steal lunches from the break room fridge!” “I broke wind last Tuesday and blamed it on the dog!” “I cried like a little girl during The Good Place finale!” “I only wash my hands for NINETEEN seconds at a time!”

Philip makes his getaway on Samson and the music reaches truly operatic levels as Maleficent does everything in her power to end him. Yet Philip soldiers through it like a boss. Crumbling mountainsides, Maleficent hurling lightning from the sky and summoning a forest of thorns to block the way? Fuck that shit, he’s gotta go save his girl.

Then, as Philip cuts his way through the briars, Maleficent looks at her watch, realizes it’s No More Fucking Around O’Clock, zooms over to the castle, throws down the most intimidating challenge ever –

“Now you shall deal with me, O Prince, and all the powers of HELL!!”

– and with that, she takes her final form: a massive fire-breathing dragon.

Every Disney villain who’s gone kaiju in the final act owes everything to this gorgeous terrifying beast. The dragon is an awe-inspiring unholy fusion of style, power and darkness. There’s a reason why she’s the final boss in Fantasmic; the chance to watch a live dragon battle is too cool to pass up.

Speaking of battles, Maleficent’s dragon form was animated by Woolie Reitherman, who previously brought us such gargantuan monster clashes as the T-rex brawl in Fantasia and the escape from Monstro The Whale in Pinocchio. And when you have a dragon confronting a fairytale prince, well, you know what’s coming.

Maleficent backs Philip on to a cliff surrounded by flames, leaving him only one desperate shot. With a little extra magic from the fairies, he throws his Sword of Truth at Maleficent and it plunges right into her heart.

“I liked…Frozen 2…more than the first one…”

Maleficent’s spells die with her, clearing the way for Philip. He gives Aurora that wake-up smooch and everyone in the castle slowly rouses, owing their inexplicable simultaneous twenty-minute blackout to the unusually strong wine.

He can attest to that fact.

The royal families are happily reunited, and the film ends on Flora and Merryweather fighting over Aurora’s dress color yet again as she and Philip waltz together on the clouds using animation Beauty and the Beast would borrow thirty-two years later.

Sleeping Beauty is a movie I can never have on in the background because the moment I look up from my work I am spellbound by it. Do I need to elaborate on how this is one of the most beautiful looking and sounding movies Disney’s ever produced? Sleeping Beauty is the swan song of Disney’s first golden age of animation. For better or for worse, their animation process would switch to the rough, cost-cutting Xerox process starting with their next feature, 101 Dalmatians, and few films would reach Sleeping Beauty’s level of gorgeousness ever since.

Though a massive financial and critical hit on release, it wasn’t enough to make up for the monstrous production costs, not unlike Fantasia. Thankfully, home video sales revived interest and made it Sleeping Beauty of the top-selling VHS tapes of the decade, cementing it as a bonafide classic. It’s one of my favorites from Disney for its stunning visuals, gorgeous music, phenomenal villain and overlooked but great cast characters. Revisit it if you haven’t already.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this review, please consider supporting this misfit on Patreon. Patreon supporters receive great perks such as extra votes for movie reviews, movie requests, early sneak-peeks and more! Special thanks to Amelia Jones, Gordhan Rajani and Sam Minden for their contributions!

Artwork by Charles Moss.

Screencaps from animationscreencaps.com

March Review: Sleeping Beauty (1959) Whenever I discuss Sleeping Beauty with someone who doesn't share my enthusiasm for Disney, they have an irksome tendency to get it muddled with Snow White; their excuse being "it has the same plot".

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toozmanykids · 5 years ago

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Six Sentence Sunday

Okay, I'm planning ahead here, bc it's only still Saturday here, but note for too much longer. Plus, how often am I ever ahead of things? That's reason to celebrate in itself.

Last week I saw that @caffiend-queen and @devilish--doll and @nildespirandum grabbed six sentences from their WIPs, works in progress. And I'm actually pretty excited to be about ready to post a WIP, so I grabbed six sentences from it to shamelessly wave around "Look at me! I'm writing!!".

This WIP is Part 5 to the Gladiator Rematch Challenge from @emeraldrosequartz a few weeks ago. I've been holding things up, but plan to post this full part this weekend. I promise!.. For REAL this time. Xoxo OK, so here are my 6 sentences, also a tease for my WIP, just to tie @emeraldrosequartz into a few more knots of anticipation. Eheheheheh.

[Above is a Drakkar Viking longship at sea. Looks like a nasty storm is coming. This is by Ignacio Bazán Lazcano. He said it was one of the last cards he did for the Game of Thrones Fantasy Card Game. He goes by neisbeis on Deviant Art.]

Once upon another long crazy night back in a time of exploration (aka, lots of Viking raping and pillaging of unsuspecting seaside villages,) Loki had just merely dozed off while Captain Olav Tryggvasson's virgin Drakkar longship was still anchored just off shore, after a very active game of hide-and-go-seek all over the ship during the Bon Voyage send off party. The God of Mischief had been 'It', of course, chasing tail in and out of all 30 rooms below deck. He was just testing out the captain's new mattress before exhaustion and satisfaction overtook him, because if it was fit for the activities of a Prince - a God, then surely a captain would be fine merely sleeping on it; it was the least he could do for a good friend.

Alas, when he did wake up the longship had embarked with Loki still aboard, and was in the midst of high alert, being overtaken by a wicked storm and possibly something else. The lower decks were all flooded, and waves were knocking every Viking overboard who hadn't tied themselves secure to something.

It was fortunate that Loki had tagged along; otherwise without his seidr augmenting the wind in their favor and adding extra buoyancy to the beef cake vikings who fell overboard, they all would have drown for sure with the ship sunk to the bottom of the sea or just wrecked to pieces.

[Above is another Drakkar Viking longship by Ignacio Bazán Lazcano that he did for the Game of Thrones Fantasy Card Game. He goes by neisbeis on Deviant Art.]

@latent-thoughts @boredbrooder @redfoxwritesstuff @gutterfortunecookie @winterisakiller @ladyoftheteaandblood @just-the-hiddles @missdibley @missinstantgratification @ms-cellanies @mischievousbellerina @manip-loki @manager-of-mischief @skoulsinner @dianamolloy @pedeka @icybluepenguin @wolfsmom1 @awolfbeneath @lokis-library @lokispettigerr @ohhhmyloki @finney13s @bambamwolf87 @lokis-lady-death @archy3001 @gingerwritess @ladyfluff @hurricanerin @fadingcoast @latestarter58 @silverink-goldenlies @tinchentitri @hallotom @maiden-of-asgard @alexakeyloveloki @starscreamloki @wickednerdery @thewidowlaufeyson @theheartofpenelope @nuggsmum @messy-insomniac-bookgirl @mastreworld @maevecurrywrites @the-haven-of-fiction @a-sundry-bag @devikafernando

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diveronarpg · 5 years ago

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In fair Verona, our tale begins with CELESTE DUVAL, who is TWENTY-THREE years old. She is often called CRESSIDA by the MONTAGUES and works as their EMISSARY. She uses SHE/HER pronouns.

Useless. That was the brand she was born with, the word that was SNEERED at her the moment that her rose-petal lips opened up, crying out in protest against her entrance into the world. They had said their novenas, offered their masses, and prayed their rosaries for a son, and yet they were denied that blessing and given a CURSE. And it came in the form of a girl who was half-heartedly christened Celeste. For no one paid mind anymore to celestial movements, so why should they give a second thought to the daughter that was never needed. When she cried out, her mother would wave the nanny her way. When she would come back beaten and bruised from school, her father would merely glance at her and tell her to clean up the blood before she came in. But, despite the lack of attention, the lack of love, the small Duval child grew up determined to thrive and live a life that would prove to them what she was worth, that would teach them the powers of the celestial bodies and how they ruled over all. It is a rather difficult thing to do, though, when living in the city of Verona, a place where each person desires to reshape the heavens in their name. She paid no mind, for she knew that her namesake was given to her for a reason; Fate favors no one and treats all equal, so she had the damned RIGHT to prove her worth. And prove it she did.

Celeste was rigorous in her education, tireless in her extracurriculars and ruthless in any and all business undertakings. Whether it be accolades or news worth achievements, one could always guarantee that her name was the one that preceded it. Papa, she would say, don’t you want to see it? A sigh, an irritable wave of his hand, No, child, not today. Yet never was she wanting for the companionship of others, no. Celeste made sure that there was a multiplicity of companions to choose from. She was the bell of the ball whenever she entered a room, the sparkling conversationalist that turned a dull story into a riot, and the best friend that all wanted to call theirs and theirs alone. The Duval name SHINED because of her impeccable reputation, as bright and beaming as the northern star, bidding all to look up and fawn over it. There was not a single moment in which she didn’t have control of the structure of her life, forming it from its foundation to its very pinnacle, Fate itself having no choice but to bow to her whims. It was never enough though. What dictated her WORTH to her family, was what lay between her legs - t and to them that made her worthless, but to her that made her worth more. So, she sought to teach them that lesson herself. Among the people her family considered peers, she made her way through – opening her legs for one client after the other and raking in the prizes that came with such a feat. MONEY.

Their business crashed and soon their peers became the Duval family’s superiors, their subordinates now their peers. TRAGEDY was murmured after their name, PITY stamped across the faces of all who looked upon them. What a fool, they whispered to one another,what a fool he was to have his money swindled away. She offered the money she had saved and invested to her father, yet he refused – for pride and reputation took precedence over putting food in his mouth. Instead, he offered his daughter to the highest bidder, knowing that a woman of a more lofty reputation would fetch a high price in an arranged marriage, no matter how sullied she seemed. Ever the faithful child, wounded though she may be, she held her tongue and bit her lip. He was a man of prestige in Verona, one who had done the city proud – so shouldn’t she, worthless child that he is, feel blessed to have such an opportunity to save them from the scorn of their betters? The day their union was declared before the altar was an affair, pictures stamped across papers in neighboring towns. Do one thing right in your life, just one thing, he said before gently pushing her to her husband. She had married for her family, but had an affair in the name of LOVE. Her husband adored her, perhaps to a fault, but she found herself falling ever so slowly into the arms of a woman who she had once thought was a simple companion. The structure of her life was starting to give way, and the fissures were surely beginning to show.

They first began to form when her father forced her into the ranks of the Montagues to pay off her family’s debts, for the dowry of her marriage he had squandered away. Dirty hands were better than dirty business for a woman, the Duvals had spat at her. But little did he know that the Montagues had heard of her talents, asking her to let her neckline drape a little LOWER, open her legs a little WIDER for negotiations. What her father had once considered the singular reason for her worthlessness soon became her strength. Too bad it was only wielded for so long before her heart was used against her, the value of secrets once again painfully relevant in her life – her affair held over her head and threatening to undo the reputation of STRENGTH she had built around herself. Then the other fissures began to grow. The reputation of her family, the adoration and respect she had accumulated around herself, and the sacrifices she had made…all in peril – and for what? Her foolish, foolish heart.

TOMAS SABELLO: Husband. To be fair, she never promised that she would lovehim, only that she would marry him. But he had assured her that she would learn, that she would grow to. Yet her blood didn’t sing when his voice graced her ears, her pulse didn’t jump when he pressed his lips against her hand, her breath didn’t catch when his gaze caught her own. Each time he touched her she has felt nothing but a void, so much so that even repulsion was preferential, for then, at least, she might have felt something for him. But, alas, there is only this abyss that she is unable to divorce herself from. Her obligation to her family and to her reputation are the iron shackles that holds her to him, his kindness and infatuation with the woman that made herself a rather notorious name are the ribbons that keep him to her. Unfortunately, on the night of their union before God, he had made one simple request:remain faithful to me. Isn’t it rather fitting then, that the man who has created the void in her life has the ability to consume it all and leave her with nothing.

ISABELLA GAGLIANO: Lover. Ah, how Aphrodite has visited her in the form of this soul! Oh, how the muses throw her into bliss whenever the woman is near! They first met at university, eager students in an art history class. From then on the two women found themselves joined at the hip, as inseparable as the constellations are from the mantle of the night sky. When the distance became longer, they became ever-closer, until the fateful day that Isabella – her bella– told her that she was moving to Verona. It was Eros, she thought, bargaining with the Fates so that she might have a chance to explain why she thought Bella’s voice sounded like the laughter of seraphs, why – exactly – she thought the moon’s light favored Bella’s skin so fervently. God meant for them to be together, she knows it in her bones. Just as she knows the only way they could be together, was by no one knowing they were together At all.

EASTON CRAVEN: Villain. He was there the night she left Isabella’s apartment with tears in her eyes, shirt falling off of her shoulders while she cradled her belongings in her arms. It was the first night Isabella had returned to Verona, the first night that she refused to leave Tomas. He happened to be at the wrong place, at the right time – for Lady Luck had abandoned her. Since then, he has held her affair over her head, dictating that he should forevermore be her personal confessor. They meet every Sunday in the church’s confessional, her words digging one Montague grave after the other. She does not know when, nor how she will take the knife he holds at her throat and shove it into his back. The night they made their deal, she knew that it was never a question of if she would see the life go out of his eyes. It was a question ofwhen.

LAWRENCE VERNON: Suspicion. The world is falling apart around the Montagues, threatening to overcome them, and yet Lawrence follows in the footsteps of Prometheus, managing to give what he has – contributing to the cause – whilst suffering eternally. He has time enough, at least, to inquire on Celeste. She feels that his eyes linger on her a little too long, his questions are a little too focused, too insightful, to be inquiries made in passing. She feels herself unraveling at the seams and Lawrence’s presence only furthers the paranoia she knows she is falling into. The problem with people who are able to lift their heads up high is that they never know when to put it down and keep walking. But if he doesn’t learn how to soon, then by the heavens above, she will teach him.

Celeste is portrayed by BREE KISH and was written by ROSEY. She is currently TEMPORARILY CLOSED.

#lsrpg #bio rpg #crime rp #mob rp #rp #rpg #w #mont #celeste duval #tc

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littleredinmotion · 6 years ago

Photo

live through this and you won’t look back by royalklaroline

(ff) (ao3)

Caroline left Rousseau’s determined to keep it together. Determined not to cry because if she did she’s afraid she’d never stop.

It wasn’t until the frantic drive down to New Orleans a few hours before that she realized that the reason Klaus dying affected her this much was because somewhere deep down she always knew that they’d end up together. Like fate.

But apparently, she was wrong.

Now it seems that fate is ripping them apart before they’d barely begun.

She’d lost a loved one before. Quite a few times actually. But this time was different. She thought losing Stefan, her newlywed husband, on their wedding day was as bad as it could get. But Stefan was human. Part of her knew that someday he would leave her, she just hadn’t expected it so soon.

Losing Klaus was different. She always imagined that once all her loved ones were gone, she’d always have Klaus. But now…

She felt like she’d lost her future. Her forever.

Klaus was the one who’d helped her embrace the joys of being immortal. Now the thought of a future without him felt empty and uncertain and scary.

In an attempt to keep from falling apart and to keep any last bit of him that she could, she turned and headed back to find the street painter they’d admired together earlier. She found him sitting in the exact spot with the now finished painting at his side while he started on a new one.

“I’ll pay you however much you want for that painting,” she inquired to the man.

“Sorry miss. It’s already been sold.”

“Please. I’ll pay double whatever they paid. I’m begging you,” she pleaded now on the verge of tears.

“I wish I could help you but the owner was very specific that it had to be this painting. I can paint you one like it, if you wish.”

Defeated, Caroline thanked the man but declined. She was once again reminded of how much she regretted shredding the drawing he once gave her.

She took her time making her way back to her car before leaving New Orleans with nothing but the fading sensation of the man that promised her the world on her lips.

Two weeks had passed since she had gotten back to Mystic Falls. Two weeks since Klaus had successfully sacrificed himself for his daughter. She had hoped that returning home to her girls would help her fall back into the same routine that she’d had for the past 7 years. She’d gone 16 years without seeing Klaus up until a few months ago, so she thought that going through life without him now would feel like normal.

She was wrong. Being back at the boarding school now made her feel like she was just going through the motions. A school filled with history of the Salvatore’s also meant a school filled with the history of the big bad Klaus Mikaelson.

Everywhere she turned, something reminded her of him. The snowflake painting hanging in the dining hall. A hummingbird outside the window. The British accent of one of the new werewolves she’d recruited to come the school.

With each day, she felt a rising panic that time was going by too fast. To her, it felt like only yesterday that he was chasing her all over town, but now she is the mother of two teenage girls. What happens when they grow up and she doesn’t? When Alaric, the girls, Elena, Bonnie, and all her other friends die?

Even after his death, she began to understand how loneliness had been his biggest enemy.

“Mom, there’s a package here for you!” Josie yelled from the front door downstairs, jolting Caroline out of her racing thoughts.

When she reached the door to find a large package, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu. “This isn’t…” she whispered.

But it was.

She ripped the paper away to find the painting from New Orleans. The last memory she has of him. A piece of artwork to remind her of the man who introduced her to the beauty of it.

But that wasn’t all.

Stuck to the back was an envelope. Sealed with the all too familiar Mikaelson crest and penned with the handwriting she’d know anywhere that only said “Caroline”

Her breath caught. The little voice in the back of her head said “Maybe he’s still out there…” but she knew that couldn’t be the case.

With shaking hands, she opened the letter and read.

My Dearest Caroline,

For almost eight centuries, whenever I defeated an enemy all I would take from them were their love letters. I guess somehow, I thought stealing the love from their letters would help me to find some of my own. It never worked. Yet after a thousand years on this earth, I find that the tables have turned. Now I am the one writing the letter with death waiting on my doorstep.

When you came into my life, I was a shell. Fueled by greed and anger with no care for life other than my own. Until I met you. A mere eighteen years old and you spoke to me with more honesty and strength than I’d experienced in centuries. You never cowered in fear of my darkness because your light turned it to shadows.

I know that I once told you that I intended to be your last love, alas fate had other plans for us. But know this. I always intended for you to be my last as well. I find comfort knowing that you were. And you being here for me today, just as you have been for the past few months, means more than you could ever know. Your presence somehow makes everything I do easier and harder in equal measure.

My biggest regret is that I never got the chance to show you the world like I told you I would someday. Rome. Paris. Tokyo. But I keep my promises. Included in this envelope are four tickets to London Heathrow. For you, Josie, Lizzie, and, if I may add, Hope. Caroline, I beg that you be the one to bring her to these places. Though I know my family could very well take her, I’d like her to experience it with you. And don’t worry about hotels or any other requirements of the sort, it’s all been taken care of my love.

Also attached, I would like to include a list of a few tips for your travels abroad.

There’s a small pub in Blackfriars called Williamson’s Tavern where Elijah and I lost quite a bit of money once while gambling after a few pints. Still I’d do it all again. Though I hear they’ve cleaned up the place and it’s more family appropriate now.

Located on a far wall on the second floor of the Hermitage in St. Petersburg you’ll find a landscape I did of the view outside our home in southern Italy in 1475 titled “Landscape of Fallen Leaves”

In Berlin, look up a man named Alexander Schütze near the East Side Gallery. Tell him I sent you and I’m sure he will show you the best of the best. He owes me a favor.

San Miniato al Monte has one of the best views in Florence. Though I did sire one of the nuns for fun, so if you meet a woman named Silvia tell her that I finally got what I deserved.

The only way to explore Rome is on a Vespa.

The best flavor of gelato is pistachio. Trust me.

At the Louvre, the painting across from the Mona Lisa titled “The Wedding Feast at Cana” is an incredible piece by an old friend of mine Paolo Caliari. I visited him often as he was painting it.

Be sure to rent a bike to ride around Luxembourg Gardens.

When at Versailles, go as deep into the gardens that you can. Spend the whole day if you must. Get lost. That’s the fun part, love.

Lastly, once back in London visit the Tate Britain and go find the painting entitled “The Hummingbird.” I think you may find it quite amusing.

There are a million more things I would have liked to show you but I don’t have enough time left to write them all down. So, I’ll leave the exploring to you in hopes that you find everything that I did and more.

If you were anyone else, I’d end this by saying I wish to see you again someday, somewhere, somehow in whatever there is after all this. But alas, I won’t. More than anything I want you to live your life to the fullest. I hope you have a thousand more birthdays and that you get everything you ever wanted out of life. I pray that my daughter learns as much from you as she ever learned from me. Please look after her as you always did for me. May your lifespan far outnumber mine and that they tell great stories of the mythical Caroline Forbes who loved with her whole heart to everyone she encountered, even those who did not deserve it.

Forever yours,

Klaus Mikaelson

She spent that summer exploring all that Europe had to offer. She’d brought her girls and Hope with her just as Klaus had wanted. They had ticked off numbers 1 through 9 on Klaus’s list and added much more to it over the past few months. On their last day in back in London where they started their trip, they were set to finally visit the Tate and knock off the last sight on the list.

She wasn’t sure if she was ready to finish the list and head back home. Being in Europe had made her feel closer to him in a way that she didn’t know was possible and he wasn’t even here.

Over the past couple of months, she had become quite an art enthusiast. She thought he’d be proud. She finally understood how art had this ability to transport the viewer somewhere else and fill them with emotion with just a glance. Now she knew that’s why he loved art so much. It was his escape.

They’d been exploring for just over an hour, hoping to stumble upon “The Hummingbird” on their own. The looking was always the fun part.

“Oh my God. Mom. Over here,” she heard Lizzie say from around the corner.

She’d expected just some picture of a hummingbird. She should have known better.

Wide eyed, she gasped because there, in the middle of the Tate, was her.

Blonde hair. Blue dress. It was the night of the Mikaelson Ball. The portrait of her wasn’t looking at the viewer. She looked calm, collected, and confident. Surrounded by other party goers that blurred in the background. She was the only focus.

It was then that everything clicked into place for Caroline. She’d finally gotten the thing that she’d always wanted.

She was finally the one.

The one for Klaus.

Now that Klaus was gone, she was surprised that she didn’t feel sad at this revelation. She felt thankful. Thankful to have known him and that he’d given her everything she’d ever wanted. Culture. Art. Beauty. The world. He’d given her the world. But most of all, she felt thankful that he was intelligent enough to know that she loved him too. Even if she never had the guts to say it to him aloud. He had to of known.

She walked over and read the description.

The Hummingbird (2011) by Niklaus Mikaelson

“This portrait is for a woman much like a hummingbird. Small and beautiful yet fierce. She showed me how satisfying life can be every day with her. I’ll wait for her to fly back to me someday. However long it takes.”

#klaroline #caroline forbes #klaus mikaelson #kcedit #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline oneshot #the originals #to #tvd #this is the first piece of fanfiction I've ever written so I'd love feedback #sorry for all the sadness #i know this is hella sad but in my headcanon Klaus comes back to life so it's fine I'm fine #I may come back and edit this later once I post it to ff.net and ao3 #my stuff #mine #my writing #live through this and you won't look back

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onwesterlywinds · 6 years ago

Text

Nothing to be Feared

Ashe cursed at herself for wearing white. Now that she was in the Undercity with the coat she'd picked out that morning, she felt rather like she was glowing throughout her trek into the waterways; without any indication of who might have been watching her, the sensation was unnerving. Less importantly, she'd already received some sort of grease stain on the front of her coat, and the smear did not inspire any confidence in her own preparedness as she arrived at the proposed meeting place.

She did not have to wait long for Hawthorne, whose arrival was audible only from the barest movement of fabric. The man strode into view straight-backed, with the result that Ashe, not recognizing him in the dim lantern light without his customary slouch, very nearly made to ready her gun.

"Oddly appropriate location," he said by way of greeting. There stood between them an ancient table, perhaps more than six fulms in breadth, and Hawthorne approached it with long and languid strides. "Apologies for asking you to come alone. But - one of us does have a reputation for grandiose... 'retaliation.'"

Already she was uncertain which of them he was referring to.

"And," he continued with a slight nod, "I in particular am not sure how this conversation will go. Good to see you're well, however."

"Why should this conversation go poorly?" She winced slightly at her own tone of voice, at the way its high pitch carried along the brick-lined tunnel. She continued in a whisper, "You said you may have need of a favor?"

His letter hadn't requested a favor outright, but she knew Hawthorne. She knew, too, that she yet owed him much - not only for the role he'd played defending the Undercity during the day of Ala Mhigo's liberation, but for the guidance he'd shown her throughout the past year at the least. "...I wouldn't outright refuse a favor for you, of all people."

Hawthorne gave a slight wave of his hand, coupled with a shrug. "The 'favor' is that we came to talk at all: a request that you pull away from your work and your business and your friends - pleasant as I am to talk to." Before she could compose a response to his sarcasm, he went on, "This is about your new position within Gyr Abania's brand-new circle of representatives. ...So maybe you're not pulling yourself away from work. Regardless, we'll start with a premise: do you know of any men named Lodewijk?"

She mulled the name over but shook her head.

Hawthorne pulled out a chair from the table and invited himself to sit in it. He performed the gesture with such self-certainty that Ashe found herself somewhat in awe: it was as if the scene around them - the dimly-lit nook, the stifled air, the clandestine meeting - molded to him rather than vice versa. He might as well have crafted that table with his own hands. He looked as though he belonged in the Undercity, and she envied him for it.

"Lodewijk Silverbrand," he clarified. "He does not make himself particularly known except to those who garner his attention. And, with everyone and their third cousins axed off at the hands of Ala Mhigo's many pitfalls, that's gotten a bit easier. Which is also particularly why you're talking with me, and not my father. It could well be believed that all the Alliance aether in the air would abysmal for the old man's health." He smiled. It was not quite a kind smile. "Gods know my father's estate was sodden with the air of 'valiant efforts' for several months, after he asked your father over for tea to discuss his actions at the Temple of Rhalgr."

Her gut clenched at the mention of the Fist's destruction. "I take it he wasn't fond of my father." The words felt trite at once. Anyone who remembered twenty-five years of Ala Mhigan history would have great cause to despise the name Riot.

Sure enough, Hawthorne shook his head. "No, no. It's that it's quite difficult to be fond of a man that keeps putting his foot in the family business." He leaned back in his chair and gave a quiet chuckle, counting off on his fingers. "No smuggling - king's orders. No trafficking - king's orders. No substance abuse, no highwaymen, no prostitutes. No downtrodden scavenging their way through life, or unlucky fellows working for the tithe. Though he did thank Ashley for gifting me more free time. And that's mostly what he's seeing now. One Riot, the hand of the King, working to make a more able working class. And now, Riot Junior, the 'spokeswoman for the Undercity', looking to..."

Hawthorne trailed off, raising an eyebrow in her direction as he let the pause linger, and linger it did. Anyone less skilled in the art of enduring difficult conversations might have withered under the weight of that silence. It was a silence fit for the Undercity.

"You are not your father," he said at last.

And thank the gods she was not.

"Can you tell me first what you anticipate to come of shoving the Undercity into the light?"

Even with the full intent of his gaze upon her, she summoned an almost definitive answer. She had prepared it. "I do not seek to bring the Undercity to any public notoriety. However, I wish to ensure that its people are given a voice in the city's future, and that they will be accounted for if the city needs to be defended again. Anyone who knows of the Undercity knows that the moment the Garleans set foot in its cellars was the moment Ala Mhigo was truly lost." She cleared her throat and continued when Hawthorne did not interject. "And in the event that someone seeks to control the Undercity as a tyrant would - as has happened in the past -" It was as direct of a reference as she could make to the things that she had heard from her father about the assassin Blackram - the man who had killed her grandmother. "-council recognition of the Undercity would enable swifter and more direct action to be taken."

Hawthorne only nodded - a simple token of acknowledgement that revealed nothing. "Well," he said, "that is a venerable cause," He leaned away from the table, twisting his brawny frame to rest an arm against the back of the chair without breaking his eye contact. "And are you equipped to handle any retaliation that may suggest, say, cutting off this den of thieves at its head? Lyse and Raubahn both have hearts that stretch further than their gaze, but I do not expect the citizens of Gyr Abania's townships to want to put in protection for the kind of people that would beat their brothers and toll their caravans. When most people learn about the Undercity... they see it as an invitation to rid their livelihoods of the men and women that tend to cut short a life. Your father, notably." And then he smiled - a dangerous smile, not directed at her or at anything in her vicinity, which made the expression all the more unsettling.

"At the risk of being overly sentimental," she interjected, "what of the countless, untold children for whom the Undercity is the only life they will ever know? Plenty may succeed as cutpurses or even as honorable people in their own right, but-"

Hawthorne cut her off with an exaggerated gasp, lurching forward in his chair so suddenly that she nearly startled. "Children?! I didn't know there were children in the Undercity!"

She continued as though he had not interrupted her. "I am, of course, prepared to defend the Undercity's traditional and varied ways of life as I possibly can. And I have no intentions of becoming its savior in any sense."

"Yes, we all know how the infallible charity of adoption centers and foster homes of the overworld can be. But... I would urge you to work on your rebuttal. I'm not wanting to get into any kind of mock argument with you about how much easier the governing of a new Abania would be, were we rid of all the deceit that goes on only underground, and never in the governing house or the homes of 'good' men. But those whose hearts fill with light are always rapt with retaliations that show only how much they care. For the good men, of course." He cut himself off abruptly, only for a much sterner expression to cross his face. "Tangents aside, I'll move on. And, trust, I do intend to get to the point somewhat quickly. How much of the Undercity then do you know? Do you know the roads? The gates? Family names outside of 'Silverbrand'? Do you know things like the Undercity's cant, or bespeakings of passageways? Or all the little bureaucratic intricacies that dark hearts are obsessed with?"

"I know more of the passages than one might think." How much of it can be attributed to her father, not even she knew, but she could suspect that it was a fair amount. "I know that the magicks binding doors and gates are called sigils, and that their keys are shared either through a spell or a relic or both. I know of the Duskwight clans living in their own caverns and the limestone quarriers and others; I know of the underground market that changes location with each meeting. I don't remember as much of the cant as I used to, though I believe I knew more of it as a child. And I know of some... relatively recent histories. Dark things hidden in the catacombs that my father put to rest. I believe you helped him in that regard, did you not?"

Hawthorne let out a loud laugh - the first thing he'd done to betray the secrecy of the atmosphere that had been lain for their meeting. The laugh echoed, crashing agains the walls and the motley of boxes around them, following into the deep and dark that surrounded them where they sat. "I have never helped Ashley Riot with a thing in his life," he said, still grinning. "And whether or not your old man attests to that, I can promise I will only ever continue to be that proverbial thorn in his side.

"Now, Ashelia, Grand Steward of the reformed and not-aligned-with-the-crown Riskbreakers, helping hand in the liberation of Ala Mhigo, Fiend to the Imperials and Spokeswoman of the Undercity - you're gaining quite a lot of titles, aren't you? - I am going to urge you tonight that you put your best into getting very very good at lying."

The word gnawed at her heart, but Hawthorne continued before she could so much as open her mouth.

"A woman whose soul aches for the many impoverished that exist beneath the salt, but does not know the entryways. The cant, the families. Of course everyone knows Silverbrand, and of course everyone's met one or another soul that's climbed their way out. But in short, however good you get at getting people to believe there is some spark of this world worth saving, the reason we are having this conversation tonight is because my father is quite concerned for the city's safety. Do you understand you are a threat?"

"I understand," she replied, before the word and its possibilities could begin to settle on her. "And I can imagine that it won't be as simple as convincing him of my 'good intentions,' or that I'm nothing to be feared."

"Many people with good intentions fuck it up," Hawthorne pointed out. "I have no belief that you are going to come rushing down, gun in hand, to set a city right after you have gained the trust of any of the suffering. Nor do I believe that you are looking to weave your way into the ranks of politics and 'accidentally' light a fire that would see Ala Mhigo cleansed of every man's suffering. But a smart man puts just as much fear on a crusader with a righteous vision and an axe as he would on a capable young woman who probably has too much experience with deep waters and getting into things over her head."

He smiled at her again - this time an encouraging smile, the sort of smile that made her want to smile back. Before she could do so, it dropped from his face like a hundred-tonze weight.

"What I mean is, should anything happen in the Undercity - even should the Resistance place one foot too far - it would be all too easy to tie it back to you, truthfully or not. A lapse in speech, a political suggestion worded a bit wrong. The wrong person noticing the wrong thing about the girl who wants to save the villains but treads to odd places at night. And then, well... you and I would be having an entirely different kind of conversation about that."

Once again, she could only ponder his words. "I'd like to thank you for your... candor." Perhaps that was the wrong word, given that so much else yet remained for him to divulge. "Given everything you've told me, do you have any recommendations for how I should proceed? Aside from dropping all involvement with the Council and never setting foot in the Undercity again, that is."

Between Gisfrid's reemergence and a thousand other tiny threats, she had too many things clamoring for her attention - too many people asking for her favor with the new government. It had already become exhausting, nigh on overwhelming, and yet she would have to manage so much more of it in the days ahead.

Hawthorne leaned forward again and crossed his arms atop the table. "Steel yourself." He stared up at her. "Not against Garleans or horrors, but against the good-meaning people of Gyr Abania, above and below, who want only to keep their families safe. And maybe, too, against your morals. As I said, there's worth in what you want, and even my father can agree there can be benefits to him as well from this..." His head tilted, like a visual discard of one or several words that he rifled through quite quickly before landing on one. "...new opportunity for the Undercity."

"If-"

"Those we can talk on at a later time. But you will be the subject of no shortage of scrutiny from any angle, and you will need to be ready for what is asked of you. Work on your rebuttals, polish up your lying, pretend you don't know anything; that will put you at a good headstart from both your political opponents and my father's ire. But, do be aware, after all that gets cleaned through, if your head is still where it should be on your person, Lodewijk will also have requests of you and your representative position that will be a lot harder to counterpoint than the ones I am sure you are already receiving. And I suggest you make ready for that, in whatever way you best see fit."

"You're saying I should... act as if I know nothing about the Undercity." The proposal felt counterintuitive, particularly since she was still doing her best to learn more about it day by day; she doubted she could feign ignorance while searching out more answers about the passages beneath Ala Mhigo and those who lived there.

"You cannot accidentally reveal information you do not, figuratively speaking, know. If you are explaining the need of, say, children, to use your example... you hear about them all the time. You have friends who came from that life. You have children at the Sandsea who you have found stranded in the mountains that have such an affinity with locks or a strange way of talking about things. 'But, no Lyse, I do not know what they're saying, or exactly where they were found. The mountains are big, after all, and I grew up in Thanalan.' You know the Undercity is ripe with drug addicts who are looking for recovery because you have met them here in the Ala Mhigan Quarter, and they only want a chance at hope. But, where had they gotten their supply? 'No, I do not know. They are making a strong recovery and it would be unsafe to reopen wounds.'" Hawthorne nodded at the understanding surely dawning on her. "You might get kickback about being a shortsighted upstart who needs to do more research into the causes she's helping, but you can tell them you're guided by your heart and all that flowery, earnest talk they love. After all, you're the one who raced into a fight against Garlemald headlong. I think the image is fitting."

She nodded again. His words offered a reassurance - a tenuous one, but even so. "And as for Lodewijk, I should simply keep to my own business and hope that he does the same?" It felt presumptuous in a way that she was not comfortable with; relying on chance and leaving her wellbeing in another's hands had never been her preferred strategy. Yet perhaps her only other choice would be to launch a full-scale surveillance initiative against one of the most notorious men in the Undercity, and not even she was that reckless. "That should be simple enough." She smiled a little wider, though she could not suppress the barest hint of a smirk. Hawthorne mirrored the expression. "Was that all? I am grateful to you for your guidance, of course, but I was under the impression that you had summoned me here to discuss a way in which I might help you. Unless that's simply by keeping my nose clean."

"That is precisely it. That, and the favor of allowing me to to talk uninterrupted and at length, a task which at least your father loathes." She giggled. "At least, he makes it seem very tasking. If anything my father does needs to concern you, you will be told about it. Otherwise, as everything else, my suggestion for him is that you keep yourself in the dark and remember that I do not have my sister's blessed disconnection from my family. Very many things still reach my ears, though I am just an old and out-of-date man with too many plates in my house and too many adventurers trapping about my ceiling."

"I think you have the perfect amount of plates," she teased.

Hawthorne laughed, and stood in a single movement. "Focus on your politics, and a public image - and the Silverbrand family will continue to see that the Undercity both thrives and serves its own."

Ashe inclined her head in a gesture that was almost a bow, and when she looked up, the former monk was gone. Only once she was back in her house did she start to wonder if she made a mistake in meeting him in the Undercity of all places.

#Ashelia Riot #Hawthorne Silverbrand #Understory

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early-sxnsets · 6 years ago

Text

When Are We Not Dreaming

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15747540

Word Count: 21,648

Summary: This is the tale of two lovers, existings in two worlds and meeting only in their slumber. When dawn breaks, away the sun leaves the moon to rest and sulk and await the return of his starshine. When the day trickles away, the warrior of the land returns to the darkness to only find warmth. One a war machine built to slaughter, and one a dark creature built to survive, and both exist to kill. Bloodshed shall end when lovers find paths within each other.

Simon Snow is the greatest warrior of his time and he’s sent off to slay the Bloodtaker, a demon who has been terrorizing the lands. He falls in love with him instead, and falls out of himself in the process.

TW: Suicide Attempt (Not graphic; Romeo And Juliet-esque).

Notes: Mega thanks to my betas, @ravenclawbaz @jessethejoyful @thedrag0nqueen and @wisest-girl for their efforts on this work! Also, I am not publishing the whole fic under the cut; I’m only posting the first section because it’s quite large. Also, I have art of Demon!Baz, if you’re interested in my interpretation. Anyway, enjoy!

A man steadily approaches a broad opening, fingertips dragging against the crumbling stone walls surrounding the village. They seem to deteriorate at just a glance, raising high and towering as ghosts hiding away an abandoned land, splattered with dried blood and fresh fear of a village now gone.

The bravest warrior, from water-tip to water-tip of England, Simon Snow, stares at the barren wasteland of a previous town, brain buzzing with energy, with ability, with skill to be the one man to finally defeat the Great Bloodtaker. There’s only rumors of his true form, yet when he comes to the mortal realm, he’s bursting with charm; a dark man, tall of stature, with a gentle voice, upturned lips, and a handsome face.

Soft-spoken. Ruthless.

A demon.

A demon walking the land. A demon who’s said to be akin to vampires. If he pleases, he’ll suck the life from your neck, provoked only by a broken deal. He uses favors as an exchange of currency, posing as a poor man. Only a true fool would resist the pleas of the attractive trickster, one that asks for home, for food, for care. The figure then makes deals around, promising good health for a dying man’s wife if he can provide anything of his wishes. All fall for his tricks, all being unable to provide the small things he wishes (a single red shoe, a young pheasant hunted by hand, all differing according to the victim). He sends a curse upon them, continuing to each family until the final night of bloodshed and destruction. The night he attacks.

And now stands Simon Snow, the one chosen to take down the Bloodtaker, to end his path of destruction and blood consummation of the great people of the lands. He takes in the aftermath, hand clutching the hilt of his sword while utterly unsure of what he’ll face.

But alas, as he descends into the crumbling town, he faces nothing in the empty homes and discarded shops. All but rotting food and a pet or two, left untouched and crying for help, have been emptied out. Snow lets the animals smell him. He has nothing to offer but small pieces of bread, and even that runs short too quickly.

The bodies are gone, most likely dragged off somewhere to be burnt to hide the evidence of bloodless carcasses, but it was too late. The word spread far and wide of another town culled by the cannibalistic beast.

It has been occurring far too often, and for far too long. It’s time for this to end.

It’s the time that Snow has been trained for.

With every clash of the blade, with every strike in the heart of his enemy and cry into battle, he grew stronger and more capable. With every training day, The Grand Mage tutting aside at every sloppy movement Snow makes and reminding him countlessly that he was chosen for a reason, and the reason was not to make a fool of him and his country.

He was chosen because he’s magic with a sword; his energy explodes out of him. He’s a killing machine, stronger than the largest brigade threatening the lands. Snow’s choosing was one of tradition, one passed from the previous Grand Mage--the one who found him, who built him to become what he is. Brave. An honor to look upon. The country’s unbeatable weapon.

Despite his reputation, Snow hasn’t completely proven himself without a final challenge.

His challenge is proving himself absolutely, once and for all, as the greatest warrior to come to man. The destroyer of all creatures, human or beyond.

That could be proven, of course, if the demon would step out of his shadow.

Which does not happen. At least, not within his daylight hours of searching. This prompts Snow to set up camp, laying in an abandoned bed in an abandoned house. Drinking ale until he sends his lone body spinning into a spiral of sleep, waking only in the depths of a pit of his mind.

Only his mind doesn’t exist. Purgatory only holds enough, and not one's’ mind.

Yet there stands Snow, clamored in armor and sword in hand, in a strange place with only one staircase as an exit, leading him into an unsure descent.

With nowhere else to go but down, Snow goes. Sinking into the world, into the depths, into the new land he’s unsure of. Steps taking him deeper and deeper. It’s burning hot, as if flames licked at the wall from behind the thick stone.

Hotter and hotter, into the lair of the Bloodtaker.

As Snow’s decline continues, the walls slowly compress, pressure squeezing the air out of the man’s lungs as the world reeks of fire and blood.

Then, as if someone flipped a lever, it’s clear. Open.

A long hallway to an open room, flames crackling beyond his sight.

And there, Snow finds the Bloodtaker, lounging in his seat and swirling a glass of something unknown, something dark. The creature sips it slowly, watching the gold speckled man enter his realm. His piercing eyes following his every move, like a hunter watching its prey. Yet, he doesn’t advance towards him. Not even as Snow draws his sword, hand shaking in the slightest. Snow feels… scared?

“O-O’ great Bloodtaker,” he begins, the metal of his suit clattering the slightest against itself. “I’ve come to destroy wha-what’s destroyed so much… else…” he trails, watching the great beast rise to his feet and approach Snow steadily.

Assumedly, this is his true form, which is somehow grander than what the stories have told. He seems to have some of the attributes that the tales tell, but with more embellishments; pitch black hands, razor sharp claws, pointed teeth and curling horns. He stands at possibly a foot taller than Snow, rising to his feet with impeccable grace, silken robes following in swirls as he steps forward. Pause. Another step, reaching closer and closer to the glowing man of maybe 19 years of age, face relaxed and eyes traveling over the smaller figure before him.

Snow freezes, feet moulding to the ground beneath him as he gapes up at the human-like creature. His skin is much richer in person; like he was sculpted by the gods with river clay and given gemstones for eyes.

He looks like he was built for sin.

By the way Snow reacts, he feels as though the Great Bloodtaker has casted his will onto him. The mortal’s breath catches in his throat as the creature’s hand rises and levitates above the long line of tawny neck, staying as an untouched claw under the jaw of the man.

“You’ve come to bring what upon me, exactly?” he coos, velvety voice twisting Snow’s insides. “You think you can defeat me , mortal?”

Snow’s chin lifts further, breath trying to scratch out in huffs. “Y-yes,” he manages out, eyes staring directly into the creature’s leveled gaze and sputtering out breaths as the Bloodtaker drops his hand to his side, stepping back swiftly and meeting both clawed fingers in front of him in a clasp. The creature’s mouth draws out into a smirk, watching the golden boy scramble to a fighting stance. “I’ve been sent to-to t-take your l-life…”

The Bloodtaker drags his tongue slowly against his top lip, chin tilted up as he stares down at Snow, lips tweaked into a smirk. “Oh you can’t possibly do that, can you? Not with such a simple blade?”

Snow advances in the slightest, hand trembling. He’s not quite sure he exactly can. “I can, I can, I can. ” He has to. He can’t return to his homelands without the head of the beast, but yet, his stance falters, limbs nearly giving. He’s weak to whatever curse the demon cast upon him, giving in to his gaze as the monster grins.

“Oh, but you can’t,” he breathes, stepping back forward as Snow drops his blade, leaving it to clatter against the ground. The Bloodtaker’s hand reaches forward to Snow’s face, nails subtly dragging against the underside of the human’s chin. “Why don’t you stay, oh brave warrior, and keep my lonesome self some company? I’ll feed you for your time, and you can try to defeat me tomorrow.”

Snow crumbles like the gates of the town, head shaking yes as his feet tumble forward. His eyes drift around the room for the first time, absorbing his surroundings. Although he could have sworn that it was empty except the throne, it now has a large dining table, filled to the brim with various foods and drinks, causing Snow’s stomach to growl at the sight.

He drags himself there, immediately beginning to stuff his mouth with whatever he can get his hands on. It dawns on him, half a turkey leg down his throat, that the creature could have easily poisoned his food in attempts to kill him. It’d be so simple, and there he sits, across the long end of the table as he swirls his wineglass slowly, eyeing him carefully through long sips.

Yet Snow doesn’t stop. After all, he’s eaten enough for two regular meals anyway, and he’s going on his third, ravenously hungry from his travels, both alive and in his current realm. As he exists, he’s starved. He stuffs himself further until he can barely manage another bite, food smeared across his face and dripping off his chin as he chugs down ale and clean water , eyes closing and hands trembling as he gulps.

And the beast just stays, eyes locked on the mortal’s face.

One would expect the beast to attack, as he’s fattening up the merely muscle and bone fighter, but instead he admires. He stays, watching his curls bob too and fro and catching the eyes of the man on occasion, giving him a long, satisfied stare. Even as he finishes eating, raising to his feet with a gentle grunt, the creature gives him a once over. “You are free to stay, Great Warrior,” the demon offers, gesturing over his lair.

“It’s Snow,” he states clear as day, eyes flicking over the creature. “Simon Snow, The Mage of Warriors.”

A curt snort comes from the demon, swirling his blood-thick drink. “As if you hold any power above me,” he purrs, licking his lips once again before waving a hand to himself. “Pitch. Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch is the name my human form takes upon.”

Snow, with raising brows, watches him with curiosity. “Such a bold name for one to pose as a beggar, no?”

“Such a bold question to ask a creature that could kill you so quickly.”

“I don’t believe you’ll kill me after you’ve fed me.”

The creature, or so as he calls himself Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch, sneers at the mere mortal before sipping from his glass. “I like to play with my food.”

Snow shifts his weight again, this time in the slightest. Food . “Do the words have any significance?” he queries, stepping over to the throne and sprawling himself over the grand chair.

Bold and idiotic, this brave man, and why the creature hasn’t killed him yet is the mystery for the ages.

As he sits, untouched by the darkest creature of the land as he disrespects his power, he continues to challenge him, to question him, to dig deeper into the mind of the being.

“My name?” Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch mocks. “I… it quite fits me. I’m quite handsome, and a handsome face requires a handsome name?”

“Such as Basilton?”

“ Yes .”

Snow smiles in the slightest. “I quite like that part. Basilton .” He draws it out, head resting back against the cushioned side. “Basil? Bazzz?”

“Baz is quite a crude bastardization of the name...”

“Exactly,” Snow grins. “ Baz . A tad whimsical.”

“I don’t think I agree that it would be fitting.”

“I believe so.”

Baz cocks a brow, sipping his wine (thickened to look like blood for the dramatics) and rolling his eyes for the effect. “You dare taunt a demon?”

“I dare taunt a demon who won’t kill me.”

“I see why you have no further title than Mage of Warriors.”

Snow throws a mean look, but it doesn’t stick.

“Alas, The Warrior is speechless.”

The golden man watches him and slowly spreads across the chair even further, making a point of the demon’s (frankly inexplicable) lack of punishment for disrespect. Baz remains in his seat adjacent to Snow’s, though, enjoying the mortal for all he’s worth, for he’s never had a moment to truly enjoy something so beautiful in his long lifetime, and he’s not quite sure he’ll be able to again.

Fate is so sick and twisted, even for the darkest of creatures. To live without a love, to exist without simple joys is a robbery of a life at all. So, it should be drunk in; sipped slowly and with caution, but finished to fill. To live a short life, one full of true existence is preferable to a never-ending life without such care.

A life known by the striking soldier with rich honeycomb skin, speckled like a hen’s egg and bronze licks of hair curling at every odd and end. He’s a sight to drink in, a sight that Baz doesn’t quite want to take in steadily, but instead he wishes to have him all to himself for now, and for the rest of time.

Such fate isn’t one that would be so kindly graced upon a killer like himself, but wishes can be dreams and dreams can be wishes.

And thus stands their bickering interactions, a back and forth of questions, such as Snow asking why he chose such a lair as his and Baz simply answers “It doesn’t beg the question whether or not he’s genuinely dark”, which was satisfying enough for the mortal, but not enough, as he asks further questions of how he came to be a demon, why he attacks such villages, and whether or not he takes the effort to make his hair fall in a careful way. The personal grooming questions were a tad odd, but somewhat reasonable, given the humanoid’s attention to detail in his appearance. All questions are ones that other creatures would slash the throat of the man after he dares speak, but Baz simply listens, giving snarky answers and snide comments, all the while a small smile trying to push through his cheeks. He takes notice as Snow starts to yawn, struggling to keep a conversation while his eyes grow heavy.

“Tomorrow, then,” he says, eyes drifting up to meet Baz’s. “Tomorrow, I’ll kill you.”

“Tomorrow it is.”

Tomorrow it is. It echoes through Snow’s brain as he rattles awake, laying among the sheets of an abandoned bed in the emptied town.

read the rest on archive!

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #demon!baz #demon au #medieval au #mine #baz #simon #baz pitch

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misskazehana · 2 years ago

Photo

I awake from my rut induced art block to bring you one of my dumb concepts-Pale Imitation: The Forgotten Bride.

First page covers slightly botched colored reference for the female lead, Pearl Asmodeus. She’s emotionally distant and rather not get involved in her crazy royal cousin’s drama. She’s a supposedly a second rate opera singer and sex worker at night. Despite her ties to the princess, people often look down upon her choice of job. She ignores these people as she’s earning money to eventually escape from all the crazies in her life. It gets horribly derailed by a Lord Hector, an overly dramatic-idiotic schemer and the crown prince of Entrancia- kingdom of the stars and shadows.

The following pages are an abridged version of the beginning act:

Hector finds himself absolutely baffled by his attraction to the dead eyed opera singer. Even a little bit frustrated at the fact he’s fallen for a human- a species his kind usually don’t mix well due to historical reasons. Alas, our shady moron practically confesses he’s drawn to her haunting voice and faded ‘colors’. She catches him mid rant and marvels quietly at his strange behavior. Shadow folk aren’t known for their loud and colorful actions. After he realizes she was watching the entire time, Hector is promptly rejected point blank. Pearl urges him to forget her as she’s a ‘fake’ (imposter syndrome incoming). As she leaves, our dumbass in love reads her mind- revealing a slightly concerning factor in her actions.

His subjects try to dissuade the man to stop pursuing her on the grounds she’s a human and a courtesan. Hector refuses to comply as he’s smitten and actually enjoys her singing. When confronted with implications she’s beneath him, he spits back nothing’s beneath him. On the flip-side, Pearl is struggling to make rent towards her crazy mother and her savings. Contemplating getting a third job. Alas, she gets nearly gets dragged into a marriage of convenience to her cousin Saphir’s ex fiancee. Alas, she bluntly rejects the offer made by her dear cousin- who still tries to force it. Igneous, her ex- politely tells her he’s not doing that shit as he respects Pearl’s decision. He doesn’t want to get close to Saphir at all after their own messy engagement turned war. Of course, Hector assumes Igneous’s trying to get Pearl for himself. This is very stupid but let’s keep going.

Saphir is informed that Hector has set his sights on her cousin Pearl. She has a rather checkered past with the ‘freak’ as he did her a magical favor. Basically responsible for the end of the war and Igneous’s sickness. Failure to end her life or his will result in the ‘void’ taking her ‘most precious thing’.Fearing he’ll use her to force her own hands, Saphir futilely attempts to convince her cousin to stay away. Not having any of this drama, our stoic heroine nonchalantly explains this away as a simple misunderstanding. That he’s merely a regular at the Opera house. Yet, on some level- she feels a mutual attraction to him. She can’t stop thinking about him as he tells her regularly she’s brilliant and supports her. Alas, she refuses to admit that to herself yet as she feels unworthy of him.

Speaking of more stupidity, our enigma of a man confronts cherry boy. Hector’s ready to throw hands only to be cucked by Igneous firmly assuring the man he’s not interested. Mostly because he desires not to get immeshed back into Saphir’s life. He even calls out Hector’s desire for Pearl and offers his helping hand. In exchange, Hector must keep a secret- Saphir’s obsessed with her cousin for some gods forsaken reason. Igneous also admits despite his somewhat cordial connection to the woman, he’s low-key feeling petty and exhausted by her as of late. Feels she’s gotten off easy for a long time and wants to settle the score. Naturally, Hector isn’t prepared for any of this. Pearl is probably not going to prepared for this either....

Characters and Concepts of PI:TFB belong to me, misskazehana

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beowulfs-booty-call · 7 years ago

Note

Beowulf for the character list!

Ohhhh gosh Jordi! How are ya pal!!! (I still have to finish the other ask you gave me! I’m making it super long and detailed just for you!)

AND GOD YES, THE FAVE BABE OKAY HERE GOES

Favorite thing about them:

Beowulf’s motif and his huge ass muscles because they’re goals. Also, the wolf pelt, definitely. Oh! Oh! And his happy-go-lucky attitude because my ass be having it too omfg.

His bravery is another thing, tbh, because he just straight up tells everyone on tv that his match was rigged because he knows he’s not really a hero. He’s the people’s hero. That was the reason in the first place why he got famous! To go in front of people and explain the situation knowing full well you might get back? That takes guts.

Least favorite thing about them:

The “Wrestler Bro” attitude sometimes. It’s fine, but the dudes at Lab Zero gave him a split “Does he think wrestling is real or…?” and “He says things you don’t expect in whispers.” in fights and it’s a wasted Easter egg Imo. The game makes him act and behave as though he’s rather dim-witted, which, cool because he’s a simple guy, but they also shoehorned Annie in to save his butt time to time and I dislike the sort of relationship they gave them both.

It’s also been said behind the scenes Beowulf did take part of the nationalistic effort in the war. Now, granted, if that was the case? Why didn’t they expand upon this? If he was a soldier, I feel he should obviously be referenced too, if not, as it already seems Parasoul knew he was merely a political pawn, I feel Beowulf’s love of the Canopy Kingdom really should have been broadened on because it’s bad writing Imo that they left out these things in favor of highlighting Annie in his story mode.

Personally in my essay I wrote, I really am big on the Annie inclusion, but I feel that it took away from Beowulf’s true personality and potential. Why add in Beowulf being saved by Annie, if he was meant to destroy Grendel anyway via suplex? I feel if such was the case, have Annie take on Double in the first place after she swallows Beowulf into Gehenna and he takes on Marie Ala Squigly and Filia.

That said, the dimwittedness is rather bland to me. It’s obvious Beowulf’s intellect shouldn’t be the brunt of the joke, and the fanbase was even worse with his treatment, outright ignoring him or treating him as the butt-monkey of the cast because Annie or Minette wasn’t voted in and it really does tick me off. We could have really shown how Beowulf was obviously using the wrestler persona to grieve for Grendel. We really could have had Beowulf figuring out just how big the Medici Mafia is and him going after those who wronged him after beating Marie.

We really lost out. And that’s my biggest pet peeve.

Favorite line:

I am two hundred, eighty seven pounds of FOLDED STEEL, AND SEX APPEAL.

brOTP:

Beowulf and Adam

Beowulf and Big Band (After their fighting in the story mode and I imagine him coming back to right wrongs)

Beowulf and Annie (I feel like she should have been much more better friends with him. And of course I feel like she’d be so goddamn dirty with him in making censored jokes because he GETS it but he... He can’t man. The kid’s got him. And he can't curse because how would that look!!! You can't call out a kid who referenced how your ex was “all up on your blood sausage.”!

OTP:

Beowulf and Me aofhiefsjfa[

I’m actually okay with Beowulf and Ms. Victoria actually! I think they’d be so cute together, if anything because I use to think of me and my ex like that, hilariously enough. I.E: Beo is the sort of guy who would waste like 50$ on you at a carnival because he wants to get you the huge ass prize, but then on his last dollar, you take the shot, win it, and you give it to him and his eyes literally are just hearts.

nOTP:

Beowulf and Eliza (Realistically, she’s only gonna use him for his blood to get stronger. I feel like if anything, there’s nothing left of Eliza. So, at this point, you’re dealing with a real monster.)

Beowulf and any underage cast member - I mean C’mon. Really.

Beowulf and Annie - See above

random headcanon(s)

- Beowulf actually is really literate, and writes poetry time to time. However, no one would pay to see him go “To be or not to be… SUPLEXED”

- He likes to wear suede and you can find him walking and going about in his scarf and puffy jacket drinking hot tea and lattes because just loves winter months

- The Hurting actually is a sentient being and was given to Beowulf via his old sleazy manager Unferth (In the original tale, Unferth gives Beowulf the Hrunting, but beowulf is so strong, he breaks it.) yet it stays strong to this day. When Beowulf is alone, or when he’s really in a pinch, the Hurting opens up its maws and has long sharp fangs and monstrous tongue used to grapple opponents. Only Beowulf speaking to it can calm it down and turn back to an original chair. No one realizes a thing.

- Grendel’s arm hears EVERYTHING beowulf says, as Grendel is still alive through the arm. However, all it hears is Beowulf screaming his quotes so instead of coherent sentences its: “ALL’S CHAIR. RUNNING WILD. AWOO. I AM TWO HUNDRED–”

- Beowulf actually is a secret musical / Opera critic and is a big benefactor of the arts. He also shouts insults and screams very helpful messages to the actors.

- When out of a job, Beowulf once took up a librarian job working in Filia’s school. Cue Ms. Victoria having to attend to students and him riding on the Janitor mobile and D. Violet secretly having a crush on him. He also bench pressed many a book case. I would know. I was one of the book cases. The kids later were the first ones to see him back in action with Ms. Victoria after he got back in the game, and they gave him a crude letter to him about being a hero and boy oh boy do I love Beowulf being kids’ hero like he was to me.

Unpopular opinion:

As the only male dude besides Big Band I feel he was purposefully thrown under the bus and really, there’s not enough porn or love for him. Much less, everyone seems to have like 2 intro animations, Beo has 1. I call favoritism but, anyway:

I think he doesn’t need a paring to shine as a hero. I think he needs to be shown more so people can realize just how awesome he really is, not with Annie saving his butt all the time so he can tout about wrestling being real.

Had he not shown up, we only would know about him via Peacock’s story mode with Andy Anvil saying he came out of retirement.

Give him love! He’s earned it!

And also like, I think he is as smart, if not, smarter than the rest of the cast, he just hides it under a veneer of being a pro wrestler. No one pays for WWE style entertainment in new meridian, they want real emotion, and that’s what Beowulf’s so used to. Because of that, he whispers and talks about things, but when you really think about them, they all have some meaning behind them, like when he calls Eliza the Crimson Scourge. I hate the idea that people think he’s a dumb dude because he’s not. Y’all just sleeping on a good character.

Song(s) i associate with them:

Space Jam’s Let’s Get Ready to Rumble

Dudley’s remix: Dudley Blew My Mind

Alex and Ken’s theme from Street Fighter 3: Third Strike

Major Lazer and Ariana Grande - All My Love

Because he liked 80′s songs and because I love funk music:

Bite the Apple - Rainbow Team

The Limit: She’s so Divine (In this case, he: “When I got here in July…”)

Let’s Get Physical: Olivia Newton AKA SIDE TO SIDE BEFORE IT WAS EVER SIDE TO SIDE

Reminder: I gotta draw him in that outfit afjnlsfgs

Also!!!

Side to Side + Let’s Get Physical MIX:

Dua Lipa: New Rules 80′S MIX (Totally something he’d listen to for the gym)

favorite picture of them

Wow it’s super nsfw but I’ll crop it for the benefit of all.

Here’s my fave sprites too

Look at him, majestic creature, no?

BICEP GRAB

Ass a palooza

And finally…

( I don’t recall the source rn for this pic, but I’ll be sure to update it asap when I get a chance!)

#Thanks for asking me #Jordi!!!#I mean it pal!!!#Asks #Wulf answers #God he's something else #Beowulf #Skullgirls #Me stuff #Fave #long post #wolf-beil

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miss-bullets-and-booze-blog · 7 years ago

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Dossier PRO: Fenra Winterwolf

So! I decided to work on my own personal profile format. It isn’t -completely- done and I may do some tweaking later on, but I love what has come from it! I had my fair share of inspiration and combinations here and there. Do use if you wish!! I enjoyed this development process. I made this because I know, sometimes developing a character can be tough. Creating this helped me out a ton. I do hope you enjoy!

“ Better stand tall when they’re calling you out

Don’t bend, don’t break, baby, don’t back down…”

IDENTIFICATION ---

· Full Name: Fenra Winterwolf

· Pronunciation: { FEN-rAH }

· Pseudonym: The Hailstorm | Wolf Heart | Lady Black Jack | Silver Song | Wiltthota ( Wild Daughter)

· Nicknames: Fen - Fenny - Littlefoot - Halfbreed/Halfblood

· Age: Thirty-Five Moons

· Name Day: 12th Sun of the 1rd Astral Moon

· Birthplace: Ala Mhigo

· Guardian: Halone, the Fury

· Residence: Fairly Nomadic

REFERENCES ---

· Motto: “Leave something they can remember you by.”

· Theme Song: It’s My Life - Bon Jovi

· Face Claim: Taraji P. Henson

STATS ---

· Gender: Female

· Race: 50% Highlander (Hyur) // 50% Sea Wolf (Roegadyn)

· Height: Five Feet - Five Inches

· Weight: One Hundred Eighty Six Pounds

· Eyes: Honey-Amber - Almond Shaped - Wolfish

· Hair: Snow White - Layered - Shoulder Length (Constantly cut.)

· Skin: Cocoa Bean Brown

· Build: Athletic - Muscle Toned - Buxom / Curvaceous

· Scars: Right Eye. Plenty others.

· Tattoos/Marks: White Ala Mhigan Inscription on Left Cheek | Ebony Ala Mhigan Tribals on Entire (Right Side Neck - Heel)

· At First Glance (+5):

That Look: For starters? Yes, she has eyebrows. It is the cool stare from those molten-gold colored hues that makes any man or woman stop in their tracks. Although it would appear as though she is always glaring at others around her, it is a mere facade. She is generally quite approachable. The look in her eyes can either speak volumes or leave much to be imagined. The question is, how often does one wish to take that first step towards the unknown? One thing is for sure. There are more than a few reasons who she is referred to as the Wolf Heart.

Say What?: To any in her general area, they’re going to notice the heavy Limosian Accent. In some ways, it has even managed to blend into that of what was left of her Ala Mhigan accent as well. While she is able to interchange the fashion in which she dictates her speech, she is far more comfortable speaking in her seaside drawl and vast amount of vulgar allegories.

White as Snow: The ashen colored hair for one who bares the darkened skin tone of an Highlander is something that already turns quite a few heads. For the most part, the sight is rare. Quite rare. Her hair isn’t a golden blond as most have proven to be, nor a natural brunette, ginger or dyed. Instead, it billows a white so brilliant in color that it nearly can pass for platinum in certain light angles. This is a clear a part of half-breed genetics: a combination of her Sea Wolf blood, inherited by her late father. To even -think- of referring it to blonde would be an utter understatement. Even snow would be jealous.

Half-Pint: Ironically, for her breeding, Fenra is not a towering hulk of a woman. Her average size is a bit of a shock to most once they realize her lineage. Most would’ve assumed her to be built like that of some warrior goddess if they were to imagine another outcome. But what the Hailstorm doesn’t have in size, she makes up in strength, speed and dexterity. The blood of Highlanders passed on before her has formulated her into formidable ally with the shattering strength of a well-trained Sea Wolf. Short version? She’ll send you a punch that will knock you back to your first Name Day.

Smells… sweet?: The mixture of aged ales, wild herbs and scented cigars gives this woman a different kind of scent. While she should reek of alcohol on a consistent basis, she appears closer to that of wild honey from a spicy or floral nectar source, not fully purified. Mingle that with a bit of salt from the sea and the musk of the desert sands, and one would find that she is quite filled with interesting surprises. Oh! And blood. Let’s never forget blood.

Forget-Me-Nots: There are many treasures from Fen’s travels that she holds absolutely dear to her heart. However, there are only a few that she carries with her on a constant basis that keeps her spirits up. While she does have her golden signature flask, it is one that she would not be too disheartened if she’d lost it.

The first of them would be that of her father’s antique pocket compass. The brass casing of the device isn’t anything particularly special to look at, aside from its design. The image of an intricately engraved wolf on the face had bee planted to the cover, encrusted in clusters of tiny lines that formed its features. If one were to open said compass, they would find a small portrait of herself as a girl betwixt the loving hold of both her mother and father.

The second, a small carving of Halone’s symbol (the three spears) given to her by her first instructor and mentor, Maren Stormfist. The moment a child is able to -walk- in Ala Mhigo, they can fight. Where most did not wish to train the half-breed, Maren saw great potential. She bestowed to her a talisman of the Guardian Patron she’d been born under as protection. Ishgardians would certainly recognize the symbl. As having been born within Ala Mhigo who’s patron god is Rhalgr, Maren’s made sure to carve his symbol (flaming meteor) on the opposite side of said talisman. She’d gifted the wooden piece to her Fenra when she’d reached age five as a pendant, connected to a thin leather rope. She’s worn it ever since. Maren, though having put up a ferocious defense, is one of the many who perished during the Garlean attacks while resisting and defending her homeland.

The third, the feather of a chocobo. This had not been merely any chocobo, but that of her late mentor, Glitont Bresane. The name of the bird had been Daliah, a beloved companion to the drunken archer. Daliah had been killed viciously in an Ixal attack while defending her eldest friend. Upon Glitont’s deathbed, he passed on both her feather and her only egg to his beloved (although unwanted) student. The feather is often worn by her, or tucked away somewhere as it had been fashioned into a quill pen.

The fourth installment to her collection of keepsakes is that of a particular ring. This obsidian band is arrange with the talent of an experienced jewelcrafter. It shows in it’s craftsmanship. However, it is kept simple… baring only that of a ruby stone at the center of its crux. If someone were to ever remove it, the words “Bound in Blood: Wolf Heart ” would be written within. The meaning behind this is unknown by many and recognized by a very select few.

The fifth and final item is that of which that had been given to her by her only child, Elin. Her daughter often sends many items to her mother via Moogle Mail, with the help of her grandmother, uncle and aunt. She fancies items she finds on the beach, considering it to be a connection to her mother’s love of the sea. Ironically to Fenra, a the adventurous tyke’s first gift had been that of shark teeth. There was so much excitement from the five year old at the time that she fashioned it into a necklace made of beads, old fish bones and stones. It accompanies Maren’s pendant. To add to the irony, Elin gave this gift to her at the age of five whereas Maren gifted her the talisman at five as well.

FACTS ---

· Occupation: Freelance Pirate - Sharpshooter

· Specialties: Jack of all Criminal Trades: Assassination, Bounty Hunting, Smuggling, Extortion, Theft and Con Artistry.

· Skills: Handywoman | Botanical/Alchemist Know-How

PROFICIENCY ---

· Education: Studied the art of the Monk in Ala Mhigo | - Self-Taught Otherwise

· Favored Weapon(s): Armored Gauntlets - Assorted Daggers

· Secondary Weapon(s): Le Buteur (Striker) - Ishgardian Heart Breaker Bow Ove (Full of Terror) and Elid (Merciful) - Guns

· Magic Abilities: Innate Aether - Slight Elemental Manipulation

· Magic Strengths: Chakra ( Other, unknown.)

RELATIONS ---

· Sexual Preference: Primarily Heterosexual | Occasional Opportunist

· Romantic Identification: Potentially Polyamorous

· Relationship Status: Solitary and Content

· Romantic/Love Interest (s): None

· Lover (s):-- Classified --

· Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

· Allies: The Wyrmguard Coalition // The Sanguine Syndicate (??)

· Enemies: Garleans | Uncle | Youngest Brother

FAMILY ---

· Maternal: Astrid Wolfheart - (alive)

· Parental: Maetiwint ( Mighty Winter)- Maelstrom: Captain within the Knights of the Barracuda - (lost at sea)

· Step-Parental: Rumwaldr Fiske - (deceased)

· Grandmother (Maternal): Glinda Wolfheart (deceased)

· Grandfather (Maternal): Fenrir Wolfheart (deceased)

· Uncle (Maternal): - Ulfin Wolfheart (alive) - Garlean Lieutenant

· Grandmother (Paternal): Unknown

· Grandfather (Parental): Unknown

· Half-Sibling(s) Maternal: Four Brothers: Avaldr Fiske (alive) | Varin & Valgard Fiske (alive) | Emund Fiske (alive) |

· Half-Sibling(s) Paternal: Three Sisters: Blangeim Thubyrswys (Dark Jewel Magic Sister- Sea Wolf) - (alive) | Maetigeim Thubyrswys (Mighty Jewel Magic Sister - Sea Wolf) - (alive) | Rhotgeim Thubyrswys (Red Jewel Magic Sister- Sea Wolf) - (alive)

· Sister - in - Law: Agatha Fiske (Midlander/Housewife - alive) - Wife of Avaldr

· Former Spouse: None

· Offspring: Elin Stormfist (alive / age 6yrs)

· Mentor - Maren Stormfist - Ala Mhigan Grandmaster Monk | Affiliated with the Fist of Rhalgr - (deceased)

· Mentor - Glitont Bresane - Ishgardian Elezen / Drunk - Retired Quiverman / Teacher - (deceased)

· Associates: Sand Shark (Hellsguard) - (whereabouts unknown)

Torrad Fireblood (Highlander) - (whereabouts unknown)

Ragnarr Flamefist (Highlander) - (whereabouts unknown)

Seni'to Wisnenhi (Keeper of the Moon) - (whereabouts unknown)

· Childhood Friend (s): Standing Oak - Hellsguard

· Companion(s): Kupfskaet aka Copper Shadow - (Griffin) - Lyngwolk aka Long Cloud (Chocobo) - Luckyfeet ( Rescued Pygmy Dodo ) - Valka (Hunting Hawk) - Zipper ( Sparrow )

MENTALITY ---

· Social Level: Painfully Observant. Fairly Approachable. Usually Blunt. Particularly Vulgar. Wary of Most.

· Optimistic View(s): Life is an oyster. Pry it open and take out the gems of the world.

· Pessimistic View(s): Comfort is complacency.

· One Positive Personality Trait: Generally, you could talk to Fenra about damn near anything. She’s open about receiving information and assisting those who need an ear. She won’t judge and would hardly give any advice unless she actually asked of it. Expect that cool stance, and studying gaze while she does listen, too. She wants to make sure she gets every part of the story and breaks it down into her head into a multitude of pieces for internal observation. After all, learning is what she does best.

· One Negative Personality Trait: Honesty is the best policy for most… but when it comes to Fenra, she can be a little -too- honest. If you can’t handle that, it be best to keep your distance. While she will bite her tongue awhile until she feels the need to speak freely, she has moments when she can simply do herself an injustice if she does NOT speak her mind. Many have not known how to handle it and therefore my withdraw, lash back or otherwise.

· One Personality Warning: Do not pry with this woman. If Fenra hasn’t told you directly, then attempting to draw it out of her won’t help. In fact, you’re likely to piss her all the way off. Fenra takes her personal life rather seriously and will die to defend it by all costs. All the torture in the world won’t bring it out of her. You’d do better to cut your losses and let it go before she beats that ass to a pulp.

· Random Quirk: Loves to Laugh.

· Hobbies: Aerial and Seafaring Enthusiast - Martial Artist - Avid Angler - Culinary Creations - Alchemic Studies - Gardening Secrets - Traveling - Multi-Cultural Information - Robbing from the Rich, Feeding to the Poor

· Habits: Sarcasm. Privy to Violence. Usually Jovial. Unintentional Flirt. Swearing Extrodinare.

· Pleasures: Good Food - Precious Jewels - Fancy Wares - Adopting Avian Creatures - Collecting Sea Debris - Meditating - Sex

· Appreciates (List 5+):

Strength

Well-Used Power

Genuine Personalities

Lewd Humor

Tempered Weapons

Determination

Will-Power

Freedom

True to Self

Hard Work

Bravery

· Dislikes (List 5+):

Constant Complaining

Whining

Ignorance

Bullies

Medical Instruments

Unnecessary Noise

Weakness

Begging/Groveling

Pastel Colors

Noble Assholes

Repetition

Pathetic Desperation

Spineless Cowards

· Strengths (List 5+):

Smart Mouth. Smooth Talker.

Incredible Shot

Contemplative. Thoughtful.

Amazing Listener

Trustworthy (once earned)

True to her word.

Speaks her Mind

Headstrong

Incredible Pain Tolerance

· Weaknesses (List 5+):

Trust / Commitment Issues

Twitchy in Closed Spaces

Heavy Alcoholic

Extremely Work-Oriented

Prone to Migraines

Her Temper & Mouth

Limited Patience

-Slight- Hints of OCD

Risk Taker

Accelerated Adrenaline

A good lay.

· Fears (List 5+):

Losing her Family

Becoming Grounded

Becoming Dependant on -Anyone-

Running out of Alcohol

Dying without Accomplishments

Not Fulfilling her Goals

FAVORITES –--

· Favorite Food(s): La Noscean Oranges, Lowland Grapes, Aldgoat Steak, Cheese and Biscuits, Most Seafood Cuisines

· Favorite Drink(s): Primarily Ale / Rum / Bourbon | Distilled Water | Orange Juice

· Favorite Scent(s): Sweet Herbs - Lingering Ale - Salt of the Sea

· Favorite Colors: Variations of - White, Black, Red & Gold

TRIVIA –--

If one truly paid attention, they’d notice that within Fenra’s attire, there is almost a streak of red -somewhere- involved. The assortment greatly varies, but she never seems to not wear it. If asked, she’d merely state that she enjoys the color. However, it is obvious that there is more involved behind the choice aside from a fashion statement. Getting that information from her will not be a simple task. If for some strange reason her attire is lacking in a slight crimson streak, that she makes up for it by wearing the ruby ring on her right hand.

While she may not be some sort of extravagant singer, she does know how to string a line the way any decent Bard should. It wasn’t intended to be as such. Spending a great deal of time in La Noscea (particularly Limsa Lominsa) has caused her to know more than her fair share of sea chanties. In fact, she has created a few herself. Her reasoning behind it is to keep her mind focused on whatever task is at hand without any distractions.

Unknown to many, Fenra was actually born deaf in her right ear. Most of what is heard in that ear is an assortment of muffles, mutters or nothing at all. She’ll usually turn her head ever so slightly in order to hear her party’s words or read lips to make out what she potentially missed. This has left her left ear to be incredibly sharp. While hunting, she’s learned to hone in on her other senses in order to accomplish her work effectively. This “handicap” had been one of the many odds against her once she was born in Ala Mhigo, who prided strength in their descendants.

To be frank, Fenra has only a vague idea on who the father of Elin MIGHT be, but is still quite unsure. She granted her daughter the surname of her after that of her late mentor, ensuring that her lineage would not be linked to her in particular. Elin now lives and is being raised by her mother, younger (but eldest of the four) step-brother, Avaldr. Her family lives quiet lives, allowing Elin to grow up as a normal child in a safe home. Her safety is one of Fen’s primary priorities in life. Keeping her safe and remaining distant, all the while ensuring that she spends time with and cares for her when she is laying low. Elin resembles her mother strongly except for the fact that one eye is silver and the other being golden. Her hair is a rich sable hue with natural silver highlights contrasting against it. She is incredibly close to her daughter and on a casual basis, Fenra will hardly (if ever) mention her daughter for fear of risking her safety.

Fenra has quite a vast wardrobe. She may not be the fanciest of dressers, but she makes sure that she looks damned good wherever she goes. That is why it is quite interesting to know that behind closed doors, she despises wearing clothes. Perhaps it is the fact that she is constantly armed wherever she goes that the feeling of being bare is quite refreshing. One should be aware that even in her most nude state, her body has always been her most deadliest weapon before she grabs her firearm or blade.

While she has sailed with pirates on quite a few occasions, she has never Captained a ship. The opportunities have risen, the offers have been granted. She’s even been elected on some scenarios and even has had to assume roles of authority on multiple points. However, leadership is not something that she has become comfortable with despite the fact that others may see it in her. She doesn’t bare enough confidence in her skills to willingly take part in becoming more than where she remains stationed at. Much of this has come to rise with her creation and involvement in the Sanguine Syndicate.

The Sky? Always. The Desert? Doable. The Sea? Of course. What the Hailstorm has a problem with is two things… closed in spaces such as caves, closets and the sort being one. If it’s confining, she panics. Twitchy, nerve wrecking, and likely to resort to knee jerk reactions. Fire is the next. There is a very particular distaste for fire when it comes to this half-blood. The greatest reason having been that when she and her mother escaped Ala Mhigo from under Garlean rule, their home had been torched while many of her family members were sleep. The flames took away many other resistance members, leaving she and her mother to be trapped. While she may not be inconsolable around fire, she is visibly wary of large flames. Luckily, the two were lead away just in time. Fenra still remembers the smell of burning flesh in her mind. Ironically, she picked up heavy smoking later on in life.

Due to not sleeping often, it has become common knowledge that she is an incredibly light sleeper. So much so that the slightest noise will wake her. Years of experience have taught her never to fall asleep too hard, let alone long. This is constituted by a constant array of light naps that she tends to have during the day and night. For someone who is half deaf, her left ear is incredibly sensitive.

This little hothead is actually quite well read. Something that likely had been doubted due to her outward personality and common accent. She doesn’t mind. Letting the enemy wonder as to how intelligent she really was had come to be something of a game to her. The kind that keeps most around her guessing and adds to the shroud of mystery that is Fenra Winterwolf. Back within her study, she has allowed herself to always keep books and logs on hand. Logs of her work, books on a variety of subjects. She is something of a collector in that attribute. Her love for literature also calls her to keeping hold to artifacts, relics, souvenirs, and other trinkets from her travels.

Primarily, Fen’s talents range in expert martial arts and ranged physical combat while studying Bard techniques taught to her by her late mentor. Outside of that, however, she has come to notice that there may be a bit more power within her that she is unsure how to manage. Fenra’s , grandfather, great-grandfather and so forth on her mother’s side were all well-known Red Magi. A gift and order that is not particularly easily handled by many. It would be good to note that her half-sisters and most of her Sea Wolf side of the family had a preference in sorcery as well. Fenra, personally, had yet to see any spark of magical aether up until very recently. She noticed certain changes in her abilities along with a few menacing headaches here and there. She hasn’t explored that side of her growing power just yet but she has an idea that she may have to soon enough.

OOC -

Server: Mateus

Timezone: EST

Muse: Female / 31yrs

Experience: Veteran Role-player of 17+ years. Format: (Novella - MultiPara - Para - Flexible) In-Game / Discord Friendly.

Type of RP: Adventure // Action // Mystery // Dark // Comedy // Fighting // Sensual // Rated - R ( Longterm Storylines Preferred)

Looking for: Criminal Network (Pirates Preferred) - Friends - Family - Enemies - One Night Stands - Etc.

Tagging: Anyone~

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