#but yep some changes

[muffinlance]

prompt: Ozai has Azula watch Zuko (his progress or rather lack thereof) from way earlier on, possibly even before Aang gets away from the iceberg in the first place

There it is, written at the bottom of his banishment notice, wobbling in and out of his vision and he’s not sure if it's his eyes—

(Father wouldn’t have meant to blind him. Being blind won't help him catch the Avatar, so he’ll just not go blind.)

It’s either his eyes, or. Or the rage. It has to be the rage.

So Zuko reads the line again, and lets the fire brim up and overflow, until sparks chase the shout from his lips.

“Banishment to be overseen by Crown Princess Azula?”

- - -

“Prince Zuko,” Azula says, standing as tall as an eleven year old can. She’s using his title, so that he’ll use hers. And if he doesn’t then he’s ill-mannered and not fit for his own. 

“Crown Princess Azula,” Zuko grits out.

“I’ll just be inspecting your ship, then. Father’s orders.”

Two men are in shackles by the time she’s done. 

“—Fostering mutiny against your prince,” she is yelling, and somehow her voice is just as high-pitched as his without sounding childish at all. “When our father hears about this—”

- - -

“So you had them executed,” Fire Lord Ozai inquires. Lightly. And from behind his flames.

“Of course, father,” says the kneeling child. “It was an attack on our family.”

Her father doesn’t say anything.

Azula is eleven. Eleven, she had presumed, was old enough to count. 

One, two, three. Four, with Uncle. The royal family.

Her father is silent still.

One. Two.

“Forgive my impertinence, Fire Lord,” she says. “I will bring them to you for judgment next time.”

“Do so,” Fire Lord Ozai says. He does not contest the ‘next time.’

- - -

“Crown Princess Azula,” Zuko says.

“Your bandage is off, brother,” Azula says. “Are you blind?”

“No.”

(The blur of her red robes, the eye-searing glint of sunlight off her headpiece—he’s not blind in that eye. He’s just… still recovering.)

“Lovely,” she says. “Then what’s your excuse for the condition of this ship?”

…He has an increased budget for repairs, by the time she’s done. 

- - -

“Brother,” Azula says, “traditionally knives are to be delivered to the back.”

“I… what?” her brother says, still holding out the inexplicable thing. “No, I bought it at port. For you. See, it matches the one Uncle got me.”

“How original,” she says.

Her brother turns a shade of red that puts his bending to shame. Not that it’s a particularly high bar. “Fine, I’ll just—throw it out.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. At the least, Mai will want it.”

- - -

“Nice knife,” says Mai, looking at the hilt peeking out of Azula’s boot.

“Be silent,” Azula says, thus ending that conversation.

- - -

“Did great-grandfather… did we…” starts her brother, fresh from scurrying about the Eastern Air Temple like some particularly dim-witted pheasant-monkey, the dust not even brushed from his clothes even though he knew her ship was waiting down here. “Azula, there were children—”

“Be silent,” she says.

- - -

“You’re leaving frequently,” comments father, as his knife cuts through the pheasant-monkey, clicking against the plate below. The persimmon-cherry sauce is thick and red and smearing.  

“I find it advantageous to cultivate a working knowledge of our nation’s tactics,” Azula answers. She does not push around her meat like a child, but she does eat only lightly; the dish is more sour than she remembers.

“And your brother?”

“Oh, him,” she says, to which her father smiles.

- - -

“...What?” Zuko asks, blinking down at the scrolls. 

“It’s your birthday,” Azula says. “Apparently, I should have gotten you a calendar.”

“Thank you?”

She sighs.

- - -

“Do we… tell him we can hear him?” asks the assistant cook, as the prince continues monologuing. Dramatically, and loudly. Through the pipe connecting the drain of the kitchen sink to the ones in the shower. 

“Ssh, I think this is one of his new plays.”

- - -

She gets him a calendar for his next birthday. It’s not funny.

- - -

He gets her a doll, for hers. The look on Uncle’s face as she torches it in front of them both is hilarious.

- - -

“Brother,” she says, looking up at the damage to his ship. “This is not the way to requisition additional repair funds.”

“Captain Zhao,” her uncle says in the background, with heights of pleasant antagonism she can only aspire to. As if a general could mistake Zhao’s new insignia. Particularly with all the polishing he does. 

“It’s commander now.”

“How did you manage this?” she asks.

“Uh,” Zuko says. “Can we… speak alone?”

She eyes her brother’s shifting stance. Eyes, too, the way Zhao’s men are already moving to intercept and interrogate his crew. One of the new commander’s more noxious habits is stalking her brother’s every move. 

Well. She’d been meaning to deal with that, anyway.

Azula snaps her fingers at the commander’s guards.

“Detain him,” she says. And for a moment, just a moment, her dear uncle freezes, as if she were talking about someone he actually cared for.

The guards don’t. She’s trained them better than that.

“Princess,” Commander Zhao says, his snarl well hidden behind a smile. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Crown Princess Azula,” she corrects. “Now hush; the adults are talking.”

- - -

They have an Avatar to catch, apparently. Her brother is coming home.

[ganondoodle]

I fully understand the pain you feel with TLOZ now. I mean, I understood it before, but after Arcane becoming League's canon, after watching the second season, I feel so broken and conflicted and like I spent time loving something just for it to amount to nothing.

reliving my totk nightmares just a few months after finally being able to cope with that

[rainedroptalks]

greta hayes deserves a solo where she's a cringefail college student who also leads souls to their afterlives on the side, and maybe she solves murders every now and then. i'm calling it dead girl detective- hey wait where are you going

[betweenblackberrybranches]

First meetings bonus part

Part 5

So this is a lot. Introducing Sun and Moons ex, a spunky advisor at court and also the decendant of a long line of witches. Also staring one of the many rulers they served, having to follow their every command even if it broke them. Prior to this event Sun and Moon had seperate bodies but Suns shattered after this, not being able to cope with being his lovers executioner.

In other news Y/N woke up from their migraine nap and started to get along with Moon

Under the cut is a panel i didnt use but dont wanna throw away

He has this dream way too often

[jessicas-pi]

evil space dad and his evil space daughter

theyre on an evil space family road trip to Jotunheim

I don't have a little ficlet to go along with this art, but I do have some story/plot outline ramble stuff!

so. without further ado,

IDEAS!

Skoll and Hati are actual characters from Norse mythology, so Baylan Skoll and Shin Hati are both very fun and somewhat difficult to fit into the Rebelvengers AU! Here's what I've got worked out: Baylan is an Asgardian who was once well-known for both his wisdom and his swordsmanship, but over time, he was slowly consumed by fear over the foretold fall of Asgard in Ragnarok, and set out to prevent it. Shin is a Light Elf who he finds and begins training—more on that in a bit.

I'm going back and forth on if I want them to have killed the mythological wolves Skoll and Hati (who were said to devour the sun and moon during Ragnarok) as part of Baylan's plan for preventing Ragnarok, and have Skoll and Hati be the wolf skins they're wearing, OR if I want Baylan and Shin to BE the Skoll and Hati figures in the Rebelvengers AU, with the wolf-skins as just references to the OG mythology. Either way, there'll be a kind of becoming-the-future-you-tried-to-prevent thing, and Baylan and Shin unintentionally start the ball rolling on Rebelvengers Ragnarok in the end. (Despite my Evil Space Family jokes, they are more sympathetic characters here than in canon—misled heroes, rather than outright antagonists. Might give them redemption arcs, idk.)

but, BACK TO PLOT STUFF!

When a pair of Jotun warriors shatter the Bifrost in a last-ditch attempt to keep the lieutenant of an extragalactic warlord from invading Asgard and obtaining the Tesseract as part of his evil plan to destroy half of all life in the universe (it's a long story), the resulting shockwave throws many Asgardian warriors, including Baylan—who had returned to Asgard to assist in the battle against said extragalactic warlord—into the abyss. But instead of plummeting into nothingness, the energy from the explosion ends up sending him hurling along one of the branches of the World Tree, and eventually leaves him stranded on the dead planet Svartalfheim.

Soon after, he finds Shin, an orphaned Light Elf girl who was also cast onto Svartalfheim by the Big Bifrost Kaboom, and trains her, becoming someone she looks up to as a father. They manage to scrape out their survival for five long years, before they eventually stumble upon the five-thousand-year-old wreck of an Asgardian prisoner transport. They explore it, and piece together its story. The crew was killed in the crash—as evidenced by the empty heaps of armor, the warriors' bones long turned to dust—and the stasis pods containing Dark Elf prisoners taken in the Battle of Svartalfheim had all been smashed.

All, that is, save one.

They open the last pod and find that the prisoner within is alive. Awakened from her hibernation, this Dark Elf briefly attempts to murderize them both until they talk her down and convince her they have a common goal—getting off this planet. She agrees to an alliance, and they begin planning a way to escape Svartalfheim, combining his knowledge of seiðrcraft and her ability to walk between worlds to escape.

But her goals are much deeper—and much more sinister—than Baylan and Shin could imagine...

to be continued

---

also here's a version without the blue tint. just because.

[zhongrin]

if you see this, and you're about to sleep (like me), i hope we both get a good rest and our f/os visits us in our dreams ᰔᩚ

if you're just starting your day, good luck and i hope your day will be good and filled with positive things coming straight to your way ᰔᩚ

and if you're in the middle of your day, i hope you're given strength to tackle the remaining hours before you can kick back and relax ᰔᩚ

[bevirspnsblmnt]

dont forget your supply pack when u go out adventuring

(lately I've been thinking about what happens to them after, once the whole brain worms thing has been taken care of. I think they'd stay in Baldur's Gate for a while, fix up that one lil house that you see in the camp in low town. Jaheira probably tries to recruit Khael in the Harpers, which he always declines, but he does help out. he's mostly interested in information and connections, as he's looking for a way to let Astarion walk in the sun. Astarion remains hopeful, but much more interested in making a new life for himself than trying to get rid of his sunlight sensitivity.)

[peppermint-moss]

OH NO RAIN'S EYES ARE GREEN???? FUCKKKKK

[ethereance]

𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝒮𝒶𝒻𝑒

Allura thinks of him—the boy she met so long ago and yet not so much, time a deceptive thing—and remembers the arms she fell into, unfamiliar at the time, as were those ears—strange, utterly so—and she thinks of pickup lines, how there must have been an entire part of his brain dedicated to them with often they fell from his lips.

She thinks of agitation, nights spent wondering if these paladins really could achieve what her father set out to, bringing peace to the universe, when most were immature, the blue one especially, so close in age, and worlds apart with everything else.

She thinks of Lance, of everything that he was back then, the face he wore—obnoxious, carefree—and wonders just when this feeling entered her heart, when mild distaste gave way to admiration and affection, something childish and spirited creeping there as if she had time to find someone to fancy, a teenager in a school, and not the soldier princess she is, caught in a war that is more than her own wants.

Wonders when his presence became one she sought out, dear to her this teammate, this friend, this confidant, this Lance who has become everything that fondness can provide.

Wonders when it became something she might call love, so strong in Allura’s heart she cannot deny it, not when it is so obvious now, every beat so clamorous she’s sure everyone can hear it, her feelings stuck on a loudspeaker. Love—she has that in abundance with him, glad to have Lance in her life, to have people like the paladins, to be family where she had lost it. But there’s something different with him, an intensity to it, one that invites risk, in jumping into open space for a life that isn’t your own. Allura has sacrificed, has done so, but the loss of him brought her a terror not even she can quite express, his life something else, cherished in a way that plants buds in her heart.

She wonders, but there is nothing to pinpoint, nothing at all. Just a gradual descent. Allura did not trip and fall as when Lotor had ensnared her with his charms, but walked, walked and oh—how blissful that walk had been, to look around and realise that she wanted him as her destination, hands entwined in a union as one. Because this is Lance, and there is something so genuine to him, his loyalty and kindness such strengths in a universe battered and bruised, and what a gift it is to see that, to experience that, his support a pillar she can lean upon. Allura sees greatness there, and wishes, not for the first time, there could be a way for her father to see him, to realise that that spark is continued in him, a pilot of the same lion who tries and tries and tries to do what’s right.

Allura loves him, values him, adores him, but there is no place for that daydream, not here in the thick of bloodshed. Not now when Earth is hanging in the balance, when Lance could lose the very home that she had lost. Not now when they have a mission.

It comes first.

But maybe theirs is a future that could be fought for, maybe one quintant if what the mice said still holds true there will be time for them, and that dream in her heart can come true. Peace, with him. It sounds delightful.

So—

“I wanted to say, stay safe out there,” she says up to him, face aflame, and hopes with everything in her heart he does.

[smellpelt]

I did so many important things today I think I should get an award

[thetomorrowshow]

scars

empires superpowers au masterlist (not up to date)

i have no clue where this idea came from but here *hands you a tattooed jimmy*

this takes place about 8 months after then end of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: past abuse, mentions of needles, scars

~

“Look at that one,” Jimmy points at the screen; Scott pauses in his scrolling. “It’s a poppy. You love poppies.”

“. . . I do,” Scott says, glancing at Jimmy quickly before resuming the scroll.

“That one’s a flag, but it could be a pride flag. That’s why I saved it. The birds are a bit cheesy, but I thought I’d include them anyway.”

Scott doesn’t say anything, just keeps scrolling through the document. He knew Jimmy had been researching something, but . . . he hadn’t been expecting this.

Before him, on Jimmy’s laptop, is a three-page document that is a collage of tattoos.

Some are better than others—there’s a celtic knot that looks pretty bad, and Jimmy’s right about the birds being cheesy, but the poppy is understated and delicate, and a cute cartoon cat makes him smile.

That’s all well and good, but the problem is: Scott has no clue why Jimmy is showing him tattoos.

Jimmy points at a bundle of stars, saying something about how it reminded him of Scott, then at a feather, then a ladder, which he explains could be combined with the stars. He quickly passes over an abstract canary, hands twitching and tripping over his words, to point out an intricate subway car, then a tiny soccer ball.

Scott interrupts right as Jimmy starts to explain an iceberg tattoo.

“Jimmy, I—this is great, but I don’t think I understand. Are you wanting me to get a tattoo?”

Jimmy blinks, laughs nervously. “I—Scott, these are—these are cover-ups. For scars.”

Oh.

Suddenly, there’s a lump in Scott’s throat.

“I—a tattoo is a big decision,” Scott manages to say around the lump, his eyes catching on a long scar down Jimmy’s left bicep. “It’s something you can’t change. Are you sure?”

Jimmy levels an exasperated look at him. “For one thing, I’m an adult. I know it’s a big decision, you don’t have to remind me. And I promise I’ve thought about this. I shouldn’t have to tell you that I have.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Scott starts to amend, but Jimmy forges on.

“It’s my body,” he says. “It’s mine, and I can have the freedom to do what I want with it, because I’m an adult and it belongs to me. And when you—when you asked if I was sure, it felt like you were treating me like a kid, or like I don’t own my body. And it felt bad.”

Shame curls in his stomach. Jimmy’s right, he shouldn’t have responded like that. It’s perfectly normal for people to get tattoos, and for their partners to support them in it. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again. “I didn’t think before speaking. I said something my parents would’ve said, and I should have considered what you just told me.”

Jimmy smiles, leans his head against Scott’s shoulder. “It’s fine. I was showing you because I wanted your opinion, and it’s all right if you don’t like the idea of a tattoo. But I would’ve liked for you to say that outright if that’s true, instead of telling me things I already knew.”

“No, I think it’s a great idea,” Scott hurries to amend. He pauses, taking a moment to get his thoughts in order. They’re working on having more open conversations, so that they don’t have repeat events of Scott’s Nightmare Situation of Last Month, as they’ve dubbed it. “I think a lot of tattoos are good,” he says eventually, “but some suck. So I’m happy you’re asking my opinion, because I don’t know if I’d be able to look my boyfriend in the eyes if he got a skull surrounded in roses on his bicep.”

That gets a laugh out of Jimmy. “Don’t think yours is the only opinion I’m getting,” he teases. “I know better than to trust a man who dyed his hair red all through college.”

“It looked good!”

They look at tattoos for a little while, Scott immediately vetoing the trio of birds and a guitar. Together, they separate the pages into ‘no’ ‘maybe’ and ‘yes’ images, dragging the little Darth Vader holding a lightsaber (a scar being the lightsaber) into ‘maybe’ and the celtic knot into ‘no’ and so on, until about half of the tattoos have been sorted.

And if they get distracted halfway through and end up making out right there on the couch? Well, they can always finish it later.

-

Three weeks later, Jimmy exits the tattoo parlor with the long, thin scar on his left bicep covered by a poppy, red and irritated from the procedure. Scott had been with him the whole time, holding his hand. They’d had to call for a break halfway through, but it had overall gone very well, and Jimmy had gotten into the passenger seat with a huge grin on his face.

“I thought I would be scared of the needle, but it wasn’t even that bad!” Jimmy says excitedly, twisting his arm around to check out the plastic-wrapped tattoo. “Did you hear when she said I was really good at staying still, especially for my first time? I’m going to get a good grade in tattoos, which is both normal to want and possible to achieve.”

Scott laughs out loud at the meme reference, resolving not to think about why it is that Jimmy’s so good at not moving while needles are stuck into him.

“Do you like it?” Scott asks instead, adjusting the rearview mirror before shifting the car into gear.

Jimmy doesn’t answer for a long moment. When Scott glances over at him, he’s let his arm fall, staring straight ahead, chewing thoughtfully on his lip.

“Yeah,” he decides eventually. “I really do. Now when I look at it in the mirror, I can be reminded of you instead of them. And . . . I can make choices with my body. That feels really good.”

“I can imagine.”

Jimmy twists his arm around again, peering at what little of the tattoo can be seen through the plastic. “I like it,” he says, quieter. “Do you like it?”

“It was my top choice, Jimmy,” Scott reminds him. “And it looks cute on you. Much better than that fish would.”

Jimmy snorts. “You know what, since it was Lizzie’s idea, I’ll tell her I’ll only get it if she gets it too.”

“Please—if you get fish, get a different one,” begs Scott. “It was huge, it had that horrible ‘gone fishing’ sign—get something cute, not something that screams fifty-year-old midlife crisis.”

That gets a laugh out of his boyfriend, and a little tension that had been in Scott’s body since before the appointment finally dissipates, allowing his shoulders to ease and his fingers to loosen their grip on the wheel.

“I’ve been watching videos on word cover-ups, so I think I might get one of those,” Jimmy says when they’re almost home. “I’m . . . I think it would help, even though I can still trace the letters. But I’d like to try scar treatment first, so I don’t think I’m gonna get another tattoo any time soon.”

“And here I was thinking my boyfriend was about to get all inked up and awesome,” Scott teases.

“And something for words would have to be really big, and there’s not much I want that’s good for that,” Jimmy continues. He glances at Scott quickly, then turns his gaze out the window. “That’s life, I guess.”

Scott thinks that’s the end of the conversation. He’s happy leaving it there, with vague plans and ideas in mind to experiment with.

But later that evening, at home, as Jimmy washes dishes and Scott dries them, Jimmy blurts out, “Would I be wrong for wanting a canary tattoo?”

Scott pauses. “Um. No?”

Jimmy sighs. “See, it’s the only one that I think I would want that’s big enough and colorful enough to cover any words. But I don’t know that I could be okay with having it cover up one of those words, because of . . . connotations. But also. . . .” he sighs again, sets down his dishcloth.

“Scott, being the Canary was the only freedom I had, as awful as it was,” Jimmy explains, and it’s a credit to how far he’s come that Jimmy’s voice doesn’t even shake. “I didn’t love it, but I could go outside. I could literally fly. And I looked pretty cool, honestly. So if I got another tattoo, I think it would be a canary, but . . . I’m afraid that’ll cause more harm than good, with my mental health and all.”

“I . . . don’t know,” Scott says honestly, sliding a plate into place in the cupboard. “I’m not in your head. And it’s not my body. But you don’t have to decide today. You don’t have to decide any time soon. You can talk about it with other people, and with Nora. And we can start looking into scar treatment, if you think you’re ready for that.”

Jimmy picks up the cloth again, runs it under the water. “I don’t know,” he says eventually, voice unreadable. His face has set back into that guarded look, the one that Scott is now so familiar with. “Maybe.”

Whatever Jimmy’s unspoken other concerns are (and Scott knows that they exist, he can tell in the tenseness of his stance), Jimmy abandons that topic of conversation. He doesn’t bring up tattoos again for weeks.

But every so often, Scott catches him admiring the poppy, and he can’t help but feel a bubble of happiness.

Jimmy finally has a good reason to look in a mirror.

[transingthoseformers]

The Bayverse Devastator having wrecking ball testicles was kinda funny but cringe at first. But thinking about it later? Imagine them slapping against another frame's aft as they get fucked, or Devastator dropping them on someone's faceplate for them to worship- dear primus I just really love balls.

Honest to god that might've been one of the funniest jokes in bayverse (to me)

But

We are totally down to talk about robot balls here on this blog if you'd like

Imagining the Combiners fucking is interesting considering how they're literally a combination of a bunch of little bots, and we know there's a mixing of the minds going on there— and now I'm thinking about how the other combiners must look in bayverse😅

But yes! May I suggest bayverse Devastator fucking Bruticus or Menasor? (Or if you want to get spicy one of the autobot combiners :) )

[energeticpoltergeist]

Part 1: Mad King's War

Prologue: Diverged History(pages 11-16)

[faaun]

ok let's catch up quickly

[imavikingo]

I have this stupid idea that Bucky knew that “old Steve” wasnt his Steve because of the color of his eyes. And he just… got tired of it all and just went with the motion.

Because he cant have anything good, right?

“He wasn’t Steve, Sam”

“What do you mean? Oh… Do you mean your Steve, because of….?”

“No, I mean that THAT PERSON wasn’t Steve, his eyes were too blue, too perfect”

“Well yeah, Steve had blue eyes Bucky. I don’t understand”

“He had some green in them too, the eyes of that person were just blue, nothing more”

[tomfrogisblue]

I have finally finished O Segredo Na Floresta.

I have cried more than I thought possible.

And I fear I shall never be the same.