#fics fighting fires

[demaparbat-hp]

“Zuko?” Ming searched for the Prince in his silence. He was staring intently out of the window, mouth blown wide open, eyes distant and awed and sincere. Oh. His whisper was a fragile, breathless thing.

“We're here.”

Ming’s doubts and concerns are hers alone, but that doesn't mean the rest of the Crew doesn't share them. This sudden mission, Zuko's change in attitude, his obsession with the Water Tribes...

Ming tries to discover the root of it all in For the Spirits Chapter VIII: Make You Stay, but will Zuko let her in?

[justaz]

realistic zukka: zuko is swamped with being firelord and righting everything wrong w the fire nation that he has No Time for visitors or personal letters, sokka is busy as chief of the swt and building all his little inventions to speed the rebuilding efforts along. zukka doesn’t speak for weeks bc they simply don’t have the time or mental space to think about that.

that is, until zuko wakes up in the middle of the night to a face over his, grinning like a madman. zuko’s instinct is to fight bc there has been five assassins this week and it’s only monday. sokka is screeching like a banshee bc if zuko breaks his invention-

the guards burst in and light up the room to find chief sokka of the swt desperately scratching at the ground to get away from a half awake firelord zuko who is currently beating him with the first thing he could get his hands on: sokka’s invention.

they don’t speak for weeks bc sokka is Upset

[baeshijima]

ever since the 5.2 trailer this is all ive been able to think about

once again, the genshin pokemon au thoughts are running wild

excuse the mega long rant in tags bc i geeked out perhaps a lil too much abt pkmn au but ourghghg.... we do not talk abt how i spent at least an hour writing all this out....

[blluespirit]

TL;DR: Zuko is not winning any Liar of the Year awards here, but he's by not a ‘bad liar’ either. He's also (apparently surprisingly) not sharing his every deep-seated thought and feeling to anyone and everyone and can in fact, keep a secret.

a canon vs fanon Zuko thing thing I see fairly often that I personally disagree with is that Zuko is constantly over-sharing and telling people too much about himself and his problems.

People love to use the Book 1 finale incident when he talks to Aang's unconscious body in the cave, but that feels like a bizarre example because... he's more talking to himself. He's not really talking to Aang. Aang can't hear him. Aang is literally none the wiser. It's not an inappropriate time or person or unreciprocated, and honestly the whole thing is more for the audience to get a sense of what in gods green earth is going through Zuko's mind considering how reckless this action was. And even if Aang was awake I still don't know if you could call it oversharing considering Aang has genuinely tried to reach out to Zuko before and tried to understand him (e.g., the Blue Spirit). Of all people, Aang would likely be the most receptive. Like... net zero information gained...

I've seen people use some examples with Iroh which I personally think is pretty ridiculous to count because it's not like he's saying anything Iroh doesn't already know??? Iroh is like the only one in Zuko's orbit who actually knew all the details about his banishment and trauma. I don't know how any scene Zuko could have with Iroh that you could call over-sharing. Zuko also never said shit to his crew about any of his past for like. two whole years. The most they thought of him was angry and spoiled. They didn't actually know anything about him. like... at all. Jee thought his scar was from a training accident.

People like to also use the scene on the ship with Mai in Book 3 when Zuko is returning to the Fire Nation, but even that feels like a bit of a stretch. Yeah, Mai dismisses him and tries to play it off, but nothing Zuko says feels 'too personal' especially when Mai is supposed to be his girlfriend and Zuko has literally not been home in three years. Telling your girlfriend/someone you trust how you feel in a obviously emotionally turbulent situation is not sharing too much, no matter their reaction or whether they asked first.

MAI: Aren't you cold? ZUKO: I've got a lot on my mind. It's been so long, over three years since I was home. I wonder what's changed. I wonder how I've changed. MAI: [Yawns.] I just asked if you were cold, I didn't ask for your whole life story. [Zuko frowns at her sarcastic response. Mai giggles and holds his face in her hands.] MAI: Stop worrying.

Another example I see is when Zuko rants to the badgerfrog. Again, not really an example since the badgerfrog is not a person and the story needed Zuko to Say Things Out Loud so we have some clue about what he's thinking. It's the same thing with the unconscious Aang. It's not oversharing. It's venting. And once again - net zero information achieved!!

Like, none of these instances feel like he's revealed too much information. None of it feels inappropriate in the context of the story.

I think people get 'over-sharer' and 'openly wearing your emotions' lines confused sometimes, but even that gets misconstrued in fandom.

I don't think that Zuko being more open with his emotions than other characters is an incorrect conclusion to make, however, I think there's something to be said about Zuko in book 1 and 2 using anger and rage as a coping mechanism rather than being vulnerable with his emotions.

Zuko will talk about his feelings a lot more in Book 3, which is actually super important to his arc, since he doesn't actually talk about his feelings in a real way in Book 1 and 2 (he's angry most of the time, and the only times I can remember when he does really talk about how he actually feels is usually when things have gotten Real Bad like when Zhao takes his ship or it's the anniversary of his banishment). In Book 3, he's really thinking and reflecting on how he feels and how he felt in different situations.

Even the 'Zuko is a bad liar' gets WAY over-played in fanon!

Yeah Zuko is not great at thinking on his feet when confronted, but it seems very context dependent, actually.

When in dangerous situations, while he's definitely not winning any Best Liar Ever Awards, he's not a bumbling fool either -

Zuko lies to Zhao about the Blue Spirit swords:

ZHAO: I didn't know you were skilled with broadswords, Prince Zuko. ZUKO: I'm not. They're antiques. Just decorative.

While not ultimately convincing, his delivery of it is far from terrible. The circumstances are against him here, though, after all, there are few people who hate Zhao enough to commit treason to stop him from capturing the Avatar than Zuko.

Zuko lies to Zhao about having found the Avatar:

ZHAO: [Pulls up alongside Zuko and smirks.] Two years at sea have done little to temper your tongue. So, how is your search for the Avatar going? ZUKO: [Aggressively.] We haven't found him yet. ZHAO: Did you really expect to? The Avatar died a hundred years ago. [Close-up of Zuko, as he slants his eyes.] Along with the rest of the airbenders. [Close-up of Zhao, whose face contorts in an evil expression.] Unless you have found some evidence that the Avatar is alive? ZUKO: [Faces Zhao and responds very clearly.] No. [Stares back in front of him.] Nothing. ZHAO: [With an expression of disbelief on his face, as he rises from his chair.] Prince Zuko, the Avatar is the only one who can stop the Fire Nation from winning this war. [Leans in and faces Zuko.] If you have an ounce of loyalty left, you'll tell me what you found. ZUKO: I haven't found [Looks up at Zhao and his tone becomes slightly more aggressive.] anything. [Close-up, as he continues on a softer tone, slightly mockingly.] It's like you said. The Avatar probably died a long time ago. [Gets up.] Come on, Uncle, we're going.

I'm not trying to say Zuko is secretly this great liar, but his effort here is commendable. It's his directness that gives him away, but he's not afraid, or nervous, or stumbling over his words like he's often portrayed to be.

Zuko confidently lies to Jet about not being a firebender:

[while on the ferry; you can see Zuko thinks for a second Jet knows who he really is. Jet doesn't pick up on this, and Zuko plays off his fear].

JET: You know, as soon as I saw your scar, I knew exactly who you were. You're an outcast, like me. And us outcasts have to stick together. We have to watch each other's backs. Because no one else will. ZUKO: I've realized lately that being on your own isn't always the best path.

[during Zuko and Jet's fight]

JET: Bet you wish he'd help you out with a little fire blast right now. [As Jet swings at Zuko's feet, Zuko stabs one of his broadswords through the hilt, pinning it to the ground. Jet looks at it with annoyance before focusing back on Zuko.] ZUKO: You're the one who needs help.

Zuko, throughout these interactions, plays off Jet's comments. He's learnt to be vague sometimes (like on the ferry to Ba Sing Se) and be confident when refuting someone. Yeah Zuko did go straight for Bodily Harm but that's very on brand to me.

Zuko lies to Chit Sang about the escape plan without hesitation:

SUKI: But how are you going to get the cooler out? CHIT SANG: [From the staircase.] Yeah, how are you going to get the cooler out? [Jumps down.] SOKKA: [Covering up.] What? We didn't ... w-we didn't say that. ZUKO: Yeah, you heard wrong. CHIT SANG: I heard you hatching an escape plan, and I want in. ZUKO: [stern] There's nothing to get in on. SOKKA: Yeah, the only thing we're hatching is ... an egg? [Zuko lowers his head and Suki covers her eyes while they both sigh in annoyance.]

Zuko comes up with a lie to tell the guards at the Boiling Rock about keeping his helmet on:

MALE GUARD: Hey, new guy! I know it's the rule to have your helmet on at all times, but this is the lounge. Relax. ZUKO: [plays it up] But what if there's an incident? If I'm not prepared, someone could strike me on the head. [The guards laugh.] FEMALE GUARD: Give it a week, he'll loosen up.

However, Zuko most often has the most difficulty lying to people who are kind to him (and who are Azula tbh) -

In Crossroads of Destiny, Zuko and Iroh are now refugees and Zuko bungles this conversation with Song:

ZUKO: [Nervously] Yes, we're travellers. SONG: you have names? ZUKO: Names? Of course we have names. I'm, uh ... Lee and this is my Uncle, uh ... Mushi?

In Tales of Ba Sing Se, Zuko struggles to find even ground with Jin and doesn't know how to answer her questions:

ZUKO: You have ... quite an appetite for a girl. [He fiddles his thumbs awkwardly.] JIN: [Uncomfortably.] Umm ... thanks? So, Lee, where were you and your uncle living before you came here? ZUKO: Umm ... well, we've been traveling around for a long time. JIN: Oh. Why were you traveling so much? ZUKO: We were ... uh, part of this traveling circus. JIN: Really? What did you do? Wait, lemme guess. [She thinks for a moment and quickly points at him.] You juggled! ZUKO: [Zuko folds his arms and looks annoyed.] Yes, I juggled.

In Zuko Alone, he's at a loss for words when asked his name:

SELA: Does this guy have a name? ZUKO: [Nervously.] I'm... uh... GANSU: [Off-camera.] He doesn't have to say who he is if he doesn't want to, Sela. [Cuts to shot of him standing with his family.] Anyone who can hold his own against those bully soldiers is welcome here. Those men should be ashamed to wear Earth Kingdom uniforms.

Listen, he's not weaving any incredible tales here, but he's not this bumbling little uwu boy who's completely helpless without Iroh or the Gaang that for some reason is incredibly persistent in fan depictions of him.

[cookie-crumblr]

The Smell of Smoke

F!Reader x Yandere Bully OC

Part 8~

His Info: 🖕✨

Part 1 — Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: F! Reader, reader has a vagina, reader referred to as she/her, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, NON CON HARD DRUG USAGE(HEROIN), Hospital setting, fire, murder, blood, car accident, high speed car chase, explicit language, descriptive death scene, fighting

The syringe…

The way it pierced your skin like a thin pick of ice, you yelped and tried to stop him. You pushed and pushed but you are just too weak.

And he’s just too strong.

He holds you down, and covers your mouth so you can’t even scream.

The burning intensity of the drug rushing immediately through your veins when he pushes the plug down.

It feels better than the best sex you’ve ever had.

An all body orgasm, with the intensity cranked up to a million. It’s hot, like magma, but it’s not painful in the least. Even the pin prick has vanished into immense and all encapsulating pleasure.

It’s better than heaven, you’d never feel something so amazing anywhere imaginable, except right here on this debauched planet.

You wet yourself, unable to control your bladder anymore, and your body begins to convulse. You’re puking but you can’t even tell, you’re too consumed by the ecstasy.

You tried your hardest to fight… and this is how you die?

…

He lays you on your side as foam and bile start to spill from the side of your lips.

You’re overdosing.

He’s gonna kill you.

He’s really gonna kill you.

You’ll be free at last… at least.

He won’t be able to hurt you now…

You don’t feel too afraid anymore.

*Beep…*

*Beep…*

*Beeeeeeeeeeeeep*

“Code Blue! Code Blue!” You’re hearing people rush all around your body, but you aren’t here.

You’re somewhere floating above.

Somewhere dark, with sickly hands ferrying you somewhere. You can’t see with your eyes, but your mind, the hands are made of the tar that’s in your veins.

When suddenly,

*GASP* *COUGH* There’s something in your throat! It’s helping you breathe but it’s so painful! you cough around the strange intrusion, and feel like your gonna throw up more.

The nurses and doctors rush to un-intubate you, since you can breathe on your own again.

You sit up without thinking your body actually responding properly again, you must’ve at least gotten some rest this time.

The nurses tell you to lay back down as the machines all screech around you.

The first recognizable person you see is Ace.

He’s struggling against the nurses that are holding him away from the door to your room as his eyes are trained, locked in on yours.

No one’s ever fought like that just to make sure you’re okay, and you feel something warm in your chest thrum.

Soon Ezra comes up to him and places a hand on his shoulder, stopping Ace from actually hurting anyone.

When Ezra faces you, you start to sob, and your body shakes violently.

Everything he’s put you through,

*BEEP BEEP—BEEP BEEP— BEEP BEEP*

“Calm her down! Get those boys away from her!”

They rush around again giving you things in your various tubes connected to your arm.

You want to say no! at least leave Ace… You don’t want to be alone… You don’t want Ezra to come back without him.

But your throat is hoarse and you can’t speak through the shivers.

You fall back unconscious.

When you come to, Ezra is waiting. His arm is bandaged, and he’s smoking in your hospital room. You go to press the call button…

When your shaking fingers are almost there,

he grabs your wrist tight.

You choke out a sob, you want desperately to keep fighting, but how much more can you actually take.

He removes your blanket from your thigh and puts out his cigarette on your non-broken, non branded leg.

You hiss, the pain becoming far too familiar for your liking.

“You’re getting better at taking what I give you,” he smirks.

“H-how…” You speak without stopping yourself, You don’t even recognize your own voice as it’s so hoarse.“How are you still smiling…?” It’s horrific. All that he’s done to you.

Really, truly, horrific. And he just,

isn’t done.

He’ll never be done,

and that realization is setting in fully now.

He’s never going to stop, until he actually kills you.

His smile only grows with your realization.

Soon he’s checking you out saying that someone at a party shot you up, and taking your limping form to his BMW then shoving you into the back.

You claw at your head and collapse into yourself.

This can’t keep going on! You can’t take anymore! you really are about to break…

Your mind is shattering and there’s nothing you can do about it.

When your about to give in, you see Ace speeding up behind you… He’s in his own car and he’s catching up to you both.

He pulls up beside Ezra, and Ezra speeds up, trying to pass his younger brother.

You’re shaking in the backseat and you buckle yourself in, just in case you crash.

Ace is focused on driving but the way he looked at the black tinted back windows, as if he could see you. Your heart flip flopped. No! You think… If you have hope it’ll only hurt you more when it also shatters…

You don’t know what to do or what to think when you feel the car lurch and a sound of plastics crunching.

Your in the middle seat but the car door next to you crunches inward, you scream! the whole car spins violently before Ezra regains control.

It’s Ace you know it is, but it’s so scary!

Ezra’s driving like a maniac and his brother is too, they’re now trying to run eachother off the road.

You see a wearhouse coming up on the horizon with billowing smoke stacks that look like cigarettes puffing black smog into the blue sky.

Right before the car is in the air, upside down, and squealing, and the smell of burnt rubber and plastics assaults your senses.

You’re glad when all the motion stops, that you put your seat belt on.

Ezra hit his head! He’s unconscious!! You reach next to him and unlock your door, rushing, you’re able to get out and you go to Ace’s upside down, smoking, car. There’s blood covering his face, and soaking his pink hair, making it a deep crimson.

You use your elbow and smash the window without thinking. You must have strength from all the adrenaline rushing through you, cause it shatters.

You use your shirt to get rid of the cubed shards of glass, and are able to unbuckle him and pull him out.

you try your best to leave him the way he was and listen for his heart, and if he’s breathing.

You have a flashback to something you’ve seen before about the song “stayin alive” and how it matches the pulsing motion you need to preform.

His body is silent, and you start chest compressions.

There’s no sound, just the song in your head and your ragged breathing as you put your whole weight down into his chest over and over again.

soon enough Ace gasps, coughing and spitting, and the sound finally comes in. Birds and insects buzz alighting the atmosphere with even more excitement and commotion. the cars groan and crackle with their embers.

Ace reaches up to your face. his bloodshot eyes move from yours to behind you, and he jumps up and throws you behind him. You land roughly on your casted leg and yelp, finally remembering that it is still broken.

Ace shouts, “Ezra!!! ENOUGH!!!” Ezra has a cigarette in his mouth already, and blood all over him matching Ace.

One of them is dying tonight.

You can see this fact now.

“Ezra!! Stop!” You yell and grab Ace’s hand pulling him with you. Through a tall grassy field you run. As you’re trying to run to those smoke stacks in the near distance you feel yourself float for a second, thinking you’re falling you brace, but find that Ace scooped you up, to run with you in his arms.

He saw where you were heading and follows your instinct.

You use this opportunity to look over Ace’s should at Ezra chasing you both. He’s gaining on you.

Ace makes it with you in his arms to the factory and finds a rusted, paint chipped side door, he squeezes you both through, and then rushes through piles of scrap and steel beams, and ginormous vats of whatever.

There’s sunlight barely streaming through the dusty windows that line the top of the room.

But…

There’s no people here!

Nobody to help!

Fuck! what do you do!

Ace puts you down behind a pile of various materials and covers his lip with his finger letting you know to be silent.

You shake your head no! don’t leave me!! please! don’t go Ace! You scream in your own skull.

but he’s running off, going to meet with his brother and end this in a building that smells like smoke.

Your feelings are rushing, adrenaline pumping through your veins, and you glance at everything around you, you finally get an idea.

It’s a horrendous idea that could go horribly wrong… But you intend to finish this first.

These vats, they’re bubbling and there’s wooden beams and a wooden second layer, maybe you could get Ezra’s lighter and start a fire…

There’s levers on the sides of them that open up, as long as the carts aren’t underneath the opening to collect the substance, you could cover this whole floor with whatever’s in there. You start to push the carts out of the way, they’re heavy and they squeal rustily as the roll on the tracks.

You won’t go down without a fight. You aren’t about to let an innocent person die for you.

Once again you steel your frazzled nerves.

Now to find Ezra before Ace does and bait him here.

You bolt, ignoring the pain in your leg, and even though your movement is hindered you push through moving fast!

You can do this!

You round a corner and full body into the man you’re looking for. He stares down at you smirking, before he grabs you by the arms, and you panic momentarily before remembering that this is exactly what you needed.

you have to get that lighter, or….

The cigarette in his mouth. You use your good leg to kick the bone of his ankle. he doubles over in sudden pain, and confusion strikes him as you yank the cigarette from his lips. His confusion makes you able to worm yourself free from his grasp!

he’s faster than you, but walks to chase after you. Hah!

He doesn’t know you have a plan!

You can do this! You really can!

“Y/N~” He laughs, “You’re not gettin’ away from me, jus’ stop fightin’ and give in already, would’ya,”

He stalks after you, not even a little suspicious of why you took his cig.

You run back around the corner and down the dingy halls and up a few metal stairs up to the vats and pull the vat lever, it’s so heavy you use your full weight to actually push down all the way and get it to…

*chur-CHUNK* the ground rumbles as Black bubbling liquid pours out all over the cement, and around the beams, you’re on a metal platform above it thankfully.

“EZRAAAAAA!” You scream, ready to end this.

His brow furrows as your eyes meet his, and you toss the cigarette onto the tar, igniting the whole floor.

*FWOOSH* The flames take to the liquid instantly, you cover you nose with the baggy hospital clothes as oxygen is whipped past you and sucked to the blaze.

Ezra is just outside of the spill and the fire, he thinks you’ve failed as he’s smirking sinisterly, he doesn’t notice the wooden platform above him.

You start pulling smaller levers on the control panel and hitting buttons in a frenzy trying to find anything that could help, and fast!

No! You see the shadow of another man through the fire!

“ACEE!!!!!” The weakened wooden beams crash in on themselves and the floor collapses down lighting on fire as they fall. Ashes and smoke fill the mostly closed building.

You cough and look over the flames.

Ezra is still smiling at you, but it’s different now. He doesn’t even notice his brother in peril!

You have to save Ace! the building is going up in flames now, and you’re running out of time.

If he’s even alive!

More beams and supports fall before you, creating an opening. You move without thinking.

Your lungs burn and the fire licks at your skin through your clothes.

Sirens can be heard in the distance finally.

You’re going to get out of this! you are!

But it’ll be for nothing if Ezra exits this wearhouse too.

First you have to make it to Ace.

He’s under a fallen beam over his upper body!

You don’t even think about it you just start to lift it with inhuman strength. Ace is able to crawl out, he’s coughing badly from the smoke though, and probably has a collapsed lung! Gods!

Ezra grabs you from behind and starts pulling you with him into the roaring flames. Your cast feels hot!!

You swing your broken leg around like a dead weight and land the hard cast right into his knee, causing him to buckle down.

You push him into the fire and tar.

The embers take to him fast, and the last thing you see of Ezra, is his smiling face as his skin turns pitch black, peels, and evaporates off his bone. New ashes rise and you cover your nose harder, not wanting a single bit of him inside you ever again.

He looked oddly… At peace.

The firefighters get you and Ace out. They can do little for the building, but you couldn’t care less.

No one suspects either of you of anything. Just a freak accident and some young 20 somethings exploring buildings they shouldn’t.

No one asked why the tar spilled. So you didn’t say.

The building was apparently insured quite well so they got more money than it was worth and didn’t need to be concerned.

They were more concerned about the car crash and why you were in a high speed chase.

But after the culprit’s charred body was recovered they saw no need to investigate further with his previous record collaborating your story. Although you told the truth you omitted that Ace actually started it.

Thankfully, he did too.

You watch Ezra’s body being moved from the wearhouse to the ambulance in a black body bag. He’s really dead.

You allow yourself a final sigh of relief, as the oxygen pump cycles through your lungs with Ace by your side.

note from cookie: wowie! this one was different from usual, i hope you all enjoyed! i had a lot of fun writing it and finally this bastard got what he deserved!!!

Special thanks to @kawaiikitty67 and @valyalyon for the ideas and inspiration!! tysm for the help!!!!! I needed it! i was in an inspirational rut for a while T.T <3

[apdreadful]

There is No Part of My Heart That Doesn’t Belong to You:

Buck’s been standing in Tommy’s garage for five minutes already, waiting for Tommy to say whatever it is that he’d called Buck to come over for..simply saying “I need to discuss something with you”

Currently, Tommy is under the hood of the Pontiac GTO, his attention locked in on the engine beneath his hands. Every minute that passes is making Buck edgier..

When Tommy finally breaks the silence and says “Evan—“

Buck cuts him off “Before you say whatever you’re going to say. If you asked me over here to fucking tell me again that I don’t know what I’m doing. I will…” Buck pauses “do something..” he finishes with palpable frustration.

Tommy looks around the hood of the car and arches his brow “Do..something?”

“Yes…I mean you know Muy Thai so you can probably kick my ass in a fight”

“Definitely” Tommy agrees wryly “I wouldn’t though”

“I will find something” Bucks continues evenly Something that you are NOT ridiculously good at and I would pummel you at it, and then I will bring you home and I fuck you into the mattress until you accept that I am yours, and you were always meant to be mine” Bucks jaw tic’s with exasperation and determination. His words a dark carnal promise.

Tommy stands up, his full attention on Buck and his words. “Now that’s incentive” he breathes “I’m not opposed to any part of that actually” His gaze hot, and like a heavy caress as they flick up Bucks body. “I can’t imagine it will be that hard” he drags that last word out. “I mean, I can fix things and I can fly helicopters. Not exactly that impressive”

“Stop” Bucks snaps “Don’t do that. Don’t make it sound like the only things that you ARE, are the things that you DO. You are worth so much more to me beyond those things. And stop distracting me by being so….fucking hot” Buck adds with a scowl.

“You started it” Tommy points out.

“I am not as green as you seem to think, I have lived a good life” Buck throws his hands up in the air “Everything I have ever wanted to do, I have done. So if you’re waiting for me to give up on you Tommy Kinard. It won’t happen.” He says stubbornly. “One thing I know, is that there isn’t a place on earth, you can’t get into with enough patience and the right tools. And that includes your heart. And I will not stop until it’s mine” Evans blue eyes blaze. His jaw set and his feet planted like he will bulldoze through any obstacle in his way.

But Tommy hears the tremor under the bravado. And it breaks his heart that he has made this man question his feelings for him.

“Evan” Tommy says softly “It already is”

“I mean it” Buck continues “I won’t let you throw what we have..throw US away”

Tommy interrupts “I’m not” he says firmly.

Buck stops and nods to indicate he is listening, gesturing for Tommy to continue.

“Evan, from the moment you sat across from me at that table with that awful cup of coffee, just..” Tommy cards his fingers through his hair in an uncharacteristic sign of nervousness “So ridiculously real..telling me you didn’t know what you were ready for..” He exhales as he closes the distance between them “Turns out it wasn’t you that wasn’t ready..it was me”

Evan’s shoulder’s stiffen, but his gaze remains locked on Tommy.

“I was so not ready for what you would come to mean to me. How loving you and being loved by you would..change everything” his rueful laugh is like an intimate caress as he pulls Buck toward him, wrapping him in his arms and breathing him in until his lung are filled with his scent, with him. “And it scared the shit out of me. Until someone much smarter than me put into words what I’ve known since that minute I kissed you that first time..The world should be full of Evan Buckley’s. But it isn’t…I have the only one” his breath catches and something raw and feral fills his voice as he says “So there isn’t a chance in hell I’m throwing you, or us away”

Evan’s whole body shudders as he relaxes into Tommy’s embrace “Well, it’s about damn time” he mutters.

Sliding his hand to his nape, Tommy guide’s Evan lips to his and claims his mouth for an achingly tender and possessive kiss. Pulling back just enough, he whispers against Bucks lips “There isn’t a part of my heart that doesn’t already belong to you Evan Buckley”

Evan buries his face in Tommy’s neck, wrapping his arms around Tommy as they stand wordlessly holding on to each other.

Buck pulls back just enough to ask “So then what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

With a small shake of his head Tommy whispers “It can wait” and he presses hot open mouthed kisses against Evans throat.

“No. No more waiting. Just hit me with it. Rip the band-aid off”

Tommy groans..searches Bucks face and then with a nod and pinking cheeks he steps out of Bucks arms and walks over to his workbench and picks up a wrapped package there and hands it to Buck.

Buck looks at it. It a lumpy and misshapen, and he opens it with curiousity. He looks down at it sitting in his palm. It’s a keychain. A beautiful stylized metal.

“You made this?” Buck asks. At Tommy’s nod he turns it over a couple of times in his hand “What does it say ‘Evan’?” He looks back up at Tommy.

Tommy shakes his head and turns it around “you have it upside down”

Evan looks down at it as Tommy says “It says Home”. His voice is rough and vulnerable as his hand covers Bucks, his thumb tracing small circles on his wrist “It’s a key, to my house, to this house” Tommy pauses and raises his eyes to Bucks “I want to wake up next to you every morning for as long as I can. So this is an invitation, and a promise, you will always have a place here. If you want it..”

“Yes” Buck whispers and then repeats “Yes” as he crushes his mouth to Tommy’s, a hundred emotions crashing through him as that word echoes, and then settles and takes root deep in his core.

home..

[frankiebirds]

normal behaviour at a party <3

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part XXVI

Find all previous parts on Ao3 :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge thank you to the lovely @sad-scarred-sassy who deserves all the credit for the post that inspired me to start writing this :) Another huge thank you to everyone reading! ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 / @cauldronblssd / @xirose / @rarephloxes / @thehighlordishere / @the-darkestminds /

Lucien could barely hold back his smile. 

Elain was close to his side, pressed against him so that only her skirts were between them. Her one hand was holding onto his own, their fingers linked together and inseparable, while the other was clutching his arm comfortably. She was telling him about Nesta and Feyre, how the two always argued because they were so similar. There was a sparkle in her brown eyes, a brightness that only came when she spoke about those who she loved. 

Beautiful. 

Lucien found his mate particularly stunning when she was unworried and at ease. Loose curls escaped the confines of her braid, and he had to fight the urge to hook the strands of hair behind her pointed ears.

“Do you think that’s why you and Eris don’t get along?” She asked innocently, genuine curiosity clear as she tilted her chin to look up at him. “You’re too much alike?”

Lucien cringed, knowing he had wrinkled his nose in displeasure. He could scarcely remember the last time anyone had compared him with any of his brothers. “Don’t offend me,” he mumbled. 

Elain laughed, the sound as lovely as daybreak. It echoed prettily in the empty corridors of the Forest House, ringing around them just as surely as it did in Lucien’s mind for moments after she had stopped. 

Lucien shook his head with a frown as he remembered that they were walking to the study Eris had claimed as his own decades before he had even been born. He could still recall hiding among the neatly organised bookshelves, escaping to the cosy space even when Beron’s eldest son was not home. “I still can’t believe you told him.” 

Eris had suggested that Elain try and release some of the pent up magic, claiming it was dangerous to do so with no training. While Lucien actually agreed, he was still not sure how he felt about his brother’s steadily increasing involvement in their lives. In two days, they would be back in Velaris, the business with the wedding finally over. He secretly hoped Eris would drop the subject after their departure. Lucien, in any case, could not imagine the Autumn Court male going to the Hewn City despite the promise he had made to work on Elain’s abilities until she became more confident.  

She shrugged, hardly concerned. “I foresee he’ll be a great help to us.” There was a restrained amusement to her words, the feeling trickling down the bond so Lucien could easily sense that she was merely teasing. 

“The number of jokes at your disposal is unmatched,” he said, knocking his shoulder playfully into her side. 

Elain grinned up at him, her dark eyebrow raised in challenge. She opened her full lips to respond, but her expression quickly transformed into one of concern. She pulled him to a stop, her head turning in the opposite direction. 

Lucien was immediately alert, trusting her instincts just as well as his own. His muscles tensed as his ears caught the low sound of shouts coming from the hallway leading to the throne room. 

“What’s happening?” She asked, just above a whisper. He could practically see her analysing the situation, weighing what she knew about Autumn and those that lived within the confines of the Forest House. 

Assassination attempt. 

The thought crashed around in Lucien’s skull for a moment, the familiarity of the feeling returning, a reminder of his past. It had happened before, enough so that Eris had taught him to sleep with his bed pushed to a wall, to ensure that his back was never exposed. He had to get Elain away, wanted to winnow her somewhere she would be safe but had no idea if there was a place secure enough within the court. 

The torches flared around them, bright as the sun, and stayed that way. Lucien balanced Elain as she stumbled with a sudden yelp in her effort to move further from the walls. Embers fell to the stone floors like shooting stars, disappearing almost as soon as they had flickered to life. 

The raw burst of power was one Lucien would have known anywhere. He had, after all, learned how to wield his own abilities at Eris’s side. 

Realisation dawned on him, slower than dripping honey. The shouts continued to travel down the empty hall, and he easily identified the distinct voice of each of his brothers. “If I ask you to stay here, will you?” He addressed his mate, trying to keep the concern from his tone, but failing miserably. 

Elain pressed her lips together, shaking her head slightly, a charming dimple appearing on her pale cheek. “Not a chance.” 

Lucien sighed. He had expected her answer, but was still worried about her well-being. “Just promise you’ll keep your distance.” If Elain was anything like her sisters, he figured she would despise being kept far from the commotion. 

She squeezed his hand to reassure him. “I promise.” It would have been too much to ask for his brothers to be on their best behaviour for a fortnight, Lucien thought coldly. They began to walk once again, this time in the direction of the continued shouts. 

Stay close. 

Lucien hoped the message came across clearly on the bridge between their souls. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Elain, but he knew the trust built between them would have crumbled had he forbidden her from coming with him. As they approached, the muffled shouts became easier to understand, and when they finally turned the corner, they could do nothing but pause and watch.

Eris was loud, his words an angry snarl. “Consider for a moment how easy it would be for me to kill you both and simply be done with this.” He was standing in the middle of Ronan and Felix, using his body to separate them. Taller than both, the span of his arms ensured they stayed away from one another. 

Despite being a courtier and much smaller in size than Ronan, Felix lunged. Lucien sensed Elain’s confusion down the bond, her feelings mirroring his own. He had assumed the two were on good terms, had even witnessed as much during their short time in Autumn. While he knew nothing ever stayed the same in the Forest House, he was surprised by the swift moving game everyone played. 

Eris shoved Felix away roughly, stopping the younger male in his tracks, ensuring that a physical altercation did not begin. 

“Stay out of it,” Felix spat, expression murderous. He whirled on their eldest brother, directing his anger at him instead. Lucien could tell that Eris preferred it, could practically see the way he adjusted his stance in anticipation for things to quickly turn into a more violent direction. 

“Can’t you see he’s itching for a fight, brother.” Ronan called, a slur to his words. It took Lucien a moment to realise that he must have been drunk. “Perhaps he needs to learn a lesson.” 

Felix smiled, looking every bit a snake with fangs. He ran a hand over the sleeve of his opposite arm, a flash of silver appearing at the cuff, a silent message.

Eris seemed to have spotted it just as Lucien had, his entire body pulled taut. He looked like a warrior as he straightened his shoulders. “Enough,” he snapped, flames in his amber eyes, embers falling from the tips of his fingers. On most occasions, the tone would have frightened the rest of his brothers into yielding, but whatever had begun the argument was not so easily settled.  

“Fuck off,” Felix clipped, stepping around Eris and right into Ronan’s line of sight. 

Callum suddenly appeared next to Lucien, winnowing into the space effortlessly. Elain turned to look at him, but he did not even spare her a glance. He sighed loudly, rubbing a hand over his face, the action tired. “What could it be this time?” 

Lucien shook his head, watching the scene continue to unfold in front of him. No weapons had yet been drawn, but the threat was there. 

“Should we do something?” Elain wondered quietly, more to herself than to him and Callum. 

Lucien bit his lip, considering. “We might just make it worse,” he said, knowing from experience how volatile fights between his siblings could become. 

No sooner had the words left his mouth, Ronan threw a wicked stream of fire at Felix, the power strong enough to make the younger male shift on his feet. There were no burns, no fabric singed. It was clearly a warning, one that had Callum inching closer. 

Callum approached the small group just in time for Felix’s answering magic to fly by him, hitting a decorative vase. It fell to the floor and shattered, tiny pieces dusting the stone like snowflakes. Almost like the toll of a bell ringing before a blood duel, the sound had each of his brothers springing into action. 

Lucien watched as Eris was caught in the middle of both Felix and Ronan. The way they hit each other was brutal, and no amount of Callum pulling on any of them was enough to end the fight.

There was more yelling as Eris tried to convince them to stop, but their voices rose over the sound, arguing about something Lucien had no context for. He tried to catch onto any key words, but was unable to piece a clear picture together. 

“Stay here,” Lucien mumbled, stepping away from Elain. She held onto his shirtsleeve, and he added a quick, “please.”

“I don’t think—”

Lucien did not wait for her to finish, winnowing into the fray. She would have asked him not to intervene, and he would not have been able to refuse her. The wind was quickly knocked out of him as Callum was shoved backwards right into his chest, an elbow catching him in the ribs. There was no time for apologies as they all attempted to find purchase on the nearest clothing item, pulling and trying to create distance between Felix and Ronan. 

Lucien heard Elain call out his name, glad that she still remained far, that she had not attempted to move closer for a better look. His relief was short-lived as Felix twisted, throwing all of his body weight at him. 

“You shouldn’t have come back,” Felix hissed as they fell to the ground in a tangled heap. It was low enough that no one else would have heard, the words making Lucien uneasy. 

Exile. 

Felix had been a vicious child, cunning and manipulative and always eager to impress their father. While he and Lucien had been close in age, a few short years separating them, they had never gotten along. The constant comparison had forged competition between them, ensuring that they were never allies. 

Lucien moved roughly, his shoulder hitting Felix so hard he drew blood. The copper scent lingered in the air as he scrambled to his feet, breathing ragged.

Felix stayed on the ground, a scarlet trail falling from his nose and running over his lips. It gave him a wild impression, fire flickering in his gaze. “You bastard,” he snarled, the insult venomous falling from his mouth. Lucien flinched, his eye whirring.

“Enough.” 

The word fell over Lucien, echoing in the space. It was the direct order of a High Lord and there was no other choice but to listen. 

Lucien watched as Felix paled, noticing how the sound of Ronan fighting with Eris stopped immediately. He turned to see their father standing next to Elain, a crown made of oak leaves resting on his chestnut coloured hair. His mate looked small, her hands curled into fists at her sides. She was obviously worried, but she stayed frozen in place, hardly recoiling at the power leaking from the ancient creature near her. 

When it was obvious that he held each of his sons’ attention, he turned a sharp gaze on Felix. “Is that any way to speak when a lady is present?” 

His brother’s lip curled up in anger, as though he were ready to argue. There was blood on his teeth, giving him the appearance of a predator. Beron raised a hand, stopping him before he even started. “Is it, Felix?”

Everyone held their breath, an unnatural silence in the corridor. Lucien’s eyes flicked between the two males and his mate, wondering what he might do if the situation became explosive. “No,” his brother uttered, the word strained, like it was being pulled out of him against his will. 

Eris moved, the shift small, but Beron saw it from the corner of his eye. Their father shot him a withering glare, warning evident in the tight pull of his mouth. “Where are your manners, child?” 

Felix bristled at the insult. Lucien could see him weighing the idea of his punishment, considering how angry Beron was to determine his choice. “You have my apologies, lady,” he said, a restrained anger in his tone. He dipped his chin mechanically, a mockery of a bow. 

Elain stayed still, looking like the statues of Day, regal and unbothered. Her silence added to the tense atmosphere as they all waited to see what Beron would say next. 

Their father simply nodded. “Leave the fighting until our guests are gone,” he ordered. There was collective relief amongst Lucien and his brothers as they realised there would be no further punishment. The humiliation seemed to be enough for Beron, a testament perhaps to him being in a good mood. 

The High Lord winnowed without a word, snuffing all of the torches in the hall. Plunged into a few short moments of darkness left Lucien disoriented, he barely realised that Eris was standing behind him. The fires were lit easily, and he could not decide which one of his brothers had done so. He barely gave it any thought, not when Elain ran to him, skirts in hand, her eyes wide with worry.

Lucien half saw as Felix swatted Callum’s outstretched hand, refusing any help and getting up inelegantly. Blood had stained the collar of his brother’s shirt, and for a moment guilt flooded his senses. 

Felix spat onto the floor, scarlet smattering the pale stone, before he marched away. There were dancing embers flowing behind him, Callum following at a safe distance. 

You shouldn’t have come back.

Lucien pushed Felix’s words to the back of his mind, focusing on the comforting hand Eris placed on his shoulder. The gesture was more kindness than he had received from his eldest brother in centuries, but the warmth from his palm was gone quickly as Eris moved towards Ronan. 

Elain grabbed onto Lucien’s wrist, the contact enough to settle his rapidly beating heart. She tucked herself into his chest, letting him wrap an arm around her waist. He glanced at his remaining brothers, keeping his mate close. 

“You should have stayed in Night,” Ronan said gruffly, straightening his jacket. 

It was unclear to Lucien whether the comment was directed at him or Elain.

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Friday

Well, not a snippet. A whole durn one-shot. No title yet, so let's just call it "Responsible Adults, or, Damas Wants A Raise"

(This mentions a hilarious headcanon that rose from a discussion of game weapons with @troblsomtwins829 and @segaphantom , one I intend to use from now on, where it was decided that red eco shockwave ammo is what Wastelanders give their kids when they're first learning trigger discipline, and Jak is the equivalent of a kid bringing down a grizzly bear with a plastic baseball bat. Also featuring swears borrowed from Watership Down because rabbit language is a lot of fun tbh)

It should have been a perfectly straightforward event. Fourteen candidates who had finally passed the initial terrain tests to Kleiver's satisfaction, finally able to go at it with weapons. Only Scatterguns for now, of course. Live ammunition would wait for those who passed their first trial. Those left standing would receive their gate pass and first amulet, everyone who had dodged the lava but not their comrades' shockwaves would be scraped off the sand and delivered to the on-site hospital. They would have to wait another month to retake their trial.

It was standard procedure.

They'd done it hundreds of times.

But this time, it was immediately apparent that something was amiss.

One man broke out of the pack before Damas could even explain what was expected of a first trial. He ran between the cover provided by the matter formers like his life depended on it, gun swinging uselessly on his back.

Well. That one probably wasn't going to last.

Damas sighed and checked the tiny screen that showed him the Arena from a closer view. Oh. That was the Krimzon Guard who had turned up at the temple, begging for clemency in the wake of Praxis's death.

Well if he survived this, his record was clean. But if he didn't-

Well that was one less Krimzon Guard in the world.

Behind him, down the stairs leading to the interior corridors of the Arena, Damas heard an alarm siren. He frowned. What could be so urgent as to sound an alarm back there? Was a patient coding?

The king twitched one ear back to listen for details while glancing periodically at the ring.

"All personnel, all personnel, be on the lookout: an unaccompanied minor is missing from Ward 2. Light hair, underweight, believed to be experiencing medical distress-"

Damas blinked. How on earth had a patient gotten out of the children's ward without someone noticing? Oh, Dr. Petros was going to spit fire when he found out.

"It's going to be one of those days," Damas grumbled, rubbing his forehead, "I can already tell."

He was correct.

A chorus of surprised voices began shouting in the stands, and Damas squinted down into the Arena. Amidst the chaos, the tattooed soldier formerly of Haven was still fleeing for his life. He occasionally fired behind him, but focused mainly on looking for a way out of the Arena. And now Damas could actually see his pursuer.

The figure was small -- tiny, compared to most of the candidates in both height and weight. It wove in and out of the combatants with an unusual speed and grace. But something was wrong.

"What the-"

Damas stood.

"Asa," he said into a handheld radio, "Don't activate the lava. Can you get eyes on the field and tell me if I'm actually seeing someone in hospital scrubs out there?"

"If what?!"

The man running the matter formers went silent as he peered out of his booth further down the wall.

"Bloody Frith! That guy doesn't even have a gun! They're not allowed to be unarmed for trials!"

"No, no they are not." Damas tightened his jaw. "But if he's unarmed-"

Then what's the Krimzon so afraid of?

The mystery candidate passed near the drone camera, and Damas almost dropped the screen entirely.

"Embleer Frith!" he swore, "It's that kid!"

It was the boy he'd found in the desert, barely alive, the one with a dead man's beacon in his hand. It had only been two days! Foundlings weren't permitted to take Arena trials until they had been declared medically sound for three consecutive days after their rescue!

Damas suddenly remembered the call from Petros, informing him that the young man was not, in fact, an adult from Haven. That he was in reality a young boy, covered with some deeply concerning scars. And the doctor had been very insistent about the foundling not being of age for combat trials.

The alarm from the hospital continued to blare, and Damas had a sinking feeling that the unaccompanied minor and the kid he'd hauled out of the desert were one and the same.

Who had allowed this?! The foundling definitely hadn't passed the terrain test yet -- he hadn't even reached the minimum age allowed to compete yet! He never should have gotten past Kleiver in the waiting hatch!

"Oh don't tell me," he breathed.

The Arena had been compromised. And that meant that the results of the fourteen candidates' initial combat trial were compromised. If Kleiver didn't have an incredible explanation for this, heads were going to roll.

Below, the boy had caught up to his quarry. Every single blast of the Scattergun, he dodged. Then the former guard shouted something; Damas couldn't make it out, but from the footage his lips seemed to be forming the word "free" or "freak".

Yells of both excitement and alarm filled the stands as the renegade patient just

Changed.

Purple sparks flickered over his body, like lightning. Every part of his body the sparks touched drained of all color. This was not the pallor of the dead, this was the white of bleached bone, and teeth. Black horns rose from ragged hair. Black claws were barely visible on each hand. At this distance, even his eyes looked black.

What. Was. That.

The KG screeched, firing without aiming. But the demonic boy launched too quickly to be tracked by the drone, taking the guard to ground. Damas knew without looking that the man was dying. He didn't even scream. There was only a pitiful gurgle as claws pierced his throat.

Damas turned the volume as far up on his screen as he could, just in time for the monstrous form to recede, to vanish as though it had been a mere hallucination. Spattered with blood, the boy from the desert stood up on shaking legs. Just barely, the drone caught his vicious hiss.

"Not so funny when you're the one with a mouth full of blood, huh, Tyber?"

He spat on the dying man.

And then his knees buckled.

Damas had seen enough.

"Stop the trial!" He commanded, waving guards towards the Arena. "The Arena is compromised! Get the candidates back to barracks, and send Kleiver to me, immediately."

He started to leave the booth, then turned back to the radio again.

"And find whoever was in charge of Ward 2 this week! And for the love of the Precursors get that kid out of my Arena!"

Oh, heads were going to roll.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Jak could hear shouting long before the creaking wooden platform reached the top of the shaft. He'd already been tense when the two big Wastelanders pulled him off the cot someone had dropped him on. If one of them hadn't been carrying Daxter, it was very likely that Jak would have tried to kill them, too. Now he started tugging experimentally at his arms, checking their grip.

"Quit!" One of them scowled at him. "The king’s mad as it is, don't make it worse!"

"-Didn't drag that kid off death’s doorstep just for you two to send him right back!" A raspy voice was yelling, "So you tell me, Rezzik, how a patient -- who Petros already told me was a minor based on musculoskeletal scans -- got into the Arena -- unarmed -- during a combat trial!"

The voice that responded was the skinny guy Jak had shoved away from him when he first woke up.

"Sire, the boy just-"

"I didn't ask about the boy! Tell me what you did! You were in charge of the children's ward this week, not the boy! When I want to hear the boy's side of things, I'll ask him myself!"

The other guards holding Jak's arms sucked on his teeth nervously.

"Oh, he's pissed," he whispered. "I wouldn't want to be the nurse right now."

"Or Kleiver. They're in deep weeds," the other agreed.

The elevator locked into place and, for a moment, Jak forgot the shouting. They were inside. And there was water. Water. Inside. Vast pools of it like an indoor oasis. Trees lined the room, dropping the temperature by several degrees. And this had been built by hu'men hands! How?!

"Well there he is." The raspy voiced man -- oh, Jak had seen the guy with the staff on that balcony of that stadium -- made an impatient gesture in his direction.

"Back from the dead, are you? You've certainly caused a fuss, young one. Care to tell me exactly what you were doing unarmed in a combat trial?"

"A combat what?" Jak answered the question with a question.

The man with the staff steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. He inhaled sharply and wheeled to face the skinny medic.

"Rezzik!"

Rezzik put his hands up defensively. "He was unconscious, my lord! He wasn't expected to even be lucid until Se'enday!"

The king dropped his face into his palm.

"Oh my gods," he groaned, "He doesn't even know where he is, does he?"

"Uh, "he" is right here," Daxter snapped.

Every person but Jak jolted.

"It talks?!"

"Oh what the rot what the rot-"

"Oh that's so cursed-"

"Why does it talk?!"

Daxter whistled sharply.

"Yes yes, I'm a miracle of premodern medicine. Moving on! Who are you mooks, where are we, and what's all this about Jak and a combat trial?!"

Jak glowered at the ground.

"Saw Tyber. From the prison. He's dead now."

Daxter's ears drooped and his eyes widened. "Oh..."

He reached down to pat Jak's shoulder.

"The creep had it comin', Jak. You did good."

"Well. Considering you apparently weren't conscious until now, you can't be expected to have known," the man who was probably the king groused, "but entry into the Arena is restricted to those aged eighteen and older for a reason. So. What I need to know is who let you through that gate."

He pointed at the sullen man with the big mustache.

"Did he or did he not make any attempt to stop you?"

Frankly, Jak couldn't remember much about how he got onto that field.

"Wouldn't have mattered if he did or didn't," he muttered, "he couldn't have stopped me."

The king narrowed his eyes at him. Then he seemed to actually see him.

"Ah, what are we doing- Jin, Faro, let go of the kid! Get him some water for the gods sakes, he just passed out on the battlefield!"

Then he turned to look at the guy he'd called Kleiver.

His voice was much quieter now. And somehow that was more frightening.

"Kleiver, you know the procedure for new arrivals," he said softly. "Three days' recovery and approval from Maud or Petros before First Trial. So what made you let a boy in hospital clothes through that gate?"

The big man sneered. "Did you see the anklebiter?! He was out for blood! He ended up fine, di'n't he?"

"Fine?! Look at him!" The king gestured sharply in frustration. "He's wearing pajamas!"

"If he'd passed out two minutes sooner he could've died!" Rezzik gasped, appalled.

"Sire, this clearly wasn't the hospital's failure," he said, turning to the king. "This oaf put my patient in danger and-"

"Enough." Damas held up his hand, face hard.

"You are both to blame for what ultimately derailed the trials of fourteen candidates. Rezzik, I leave your penalty to be decided by your superiors. But Kleiver-"

He glared.

"Your only chance at retaining your position is if that boy had an extremely valid reason for hunting down that candidate."

Jak edged away from the guard offering him a canteen. "What counts as valid to you?" he asked pointedly.

The king paced to the edge of his dais, watching Jak with eyes a little too knowing. He folded one arm behind his back and studied him with none of the fire that had been directed at his own people.

"Newcomer, I will ask you only once, and you need only answer once. The man you killed: did he give you those scars?"

Jak went rigid.

They'd seen his scars.

They knew.

Nausea rocked him, crawling up his throat and tasting of shame.

"Boy?" The king pressed, "Did-"

"No." Jak practically spat the word out. "He kept me from escaping. He laughed. And now he's dead. Got a problem with that?"

The king scoffed slightly. He glanced back at Kleiver.

"You are fortunate today. I will retroactively approve an exception for the boy this once as a case of justified retribution. Do not let it happen again."

"Sire," Rezzik piped up again -- guy just didn't know when to keep his mouth shut -- "Arena exceptions must have signed affidavits from the guardian of the minor, mustn't they? As the attending physician, shall I-"

"Don't be a pot-stirrer, Rezzik," Damas said flatly.

Jak muffled a snort and exchanged amused glances with Daxter. At least he wasn't the one getting yelled at.

"No," Damas said, tense again and gritting his teeth, "Since apparently I am the only reasonable adult in this entire godsforsaken room today, I'll complete the affidavit."

He waved dismissively at the group.

"Do not compromise the trials of our candidates again. Negligence costs lives, and weakens our city, gentlemen."

Kleiver looked like he had a few choice words to say about that, but he dipped his head respectfully and marched away without a word. Jin and Faro cringed at each other, then made to grab Jak's shoulder.

"Come on, kid. You need to go back to the doc-"

Jak shoved Jin away and stumbled back.

"Don't touch me!"

Rezzik raised his hands placatingly, approaching as if the boy was a frightened baby animal.

"Hey, hey, it's alright, we only want to help you! I know you must be scared, but if you'll just let us get you back on the IV-"

Jak didn't hear anything else after that.

They were going to inject something into him.

They were going to strap him down and inject something into him-!

His breath shortened as he ducked Jin again. Faro was surprised enough by the elbow strike to his gut to loosen his grip on his gunstaff, and that was all Jak needed.

He ripped the weapon from the guard's hands and swung it in a wide arc, eyes wild.

"Get. Back."

Daxter snarled next to Jak’s ear. "Nobody touches my pal. Keep your filthy needles to yourself, or better yet, stick them up your-"

"Hey! Come on!" Faro complained, "That's custom, kid! You can't just jack a Wastelander's peacemaker, that's just not on!"

"You're not taking me back."

Jak swung the gunstaff again.

"I'm not going back there!

You can't take me back! I won't go back!"

Damas frowned and started down the steps. "What the bloody bones did you people do to make him do...that?!"

"That's...that's what I was trying to tell you before, sire," Rezzik said meekly as he backed away from Jak, "We didn't release him from care, he had some kind of...panic episode. Ripped out the IV and nearly killed Jessop on the way out."

The grinding of teeth was audible even at the bottom of the stairs.

"Petros is going to strangle you if he finds that you didn't take precautions with newcomer trauma," Damas said sharply.

"But we didn't know-! He was unconscious!"

"Get out."

Damas pointed to the elevator.

"Send Petros up here with his file after he deals with you."

When the guards didn't immediately follow the medic, Damas growled. "All of you get out! I've had enough foolishness for one day!"

"Sire," Jin gulped, "The uh, the boy-?"

"He's fine. I have to ask him questions for paperwork now thanks to at least one of you."

That left Jak and Daxter alone with the really really pissed off Wastelander King. (He hadn't even known there were enough Wastelanders to have a king!)

For almost a minute the man paced, swearing very colorfully under his breath. After six or seven very slow, deep breaths, he finally seemed to get control of himself again.

"How do you see needle scars and not think "hm, perhaps someone should stay with him to explain when he wakes up"? It's not that complicated!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.

"Is it the full moon this week? It must be. Everyone's lost their twice-rotted minds around here."

He took another deep breath, and after letting it out slowly, he sat down on the edge of the dais.

"Well, I can hardly think of a worse introduction to Spargus than that, but I hope you won't hold it against me."

Jak kept the staff clutched tightly in his hands, but didn't aim it at the man yet.

"Who are you? And what's Spargus? I know it isn't in Haven. Nobody cares what age you are in Haven."

"Definitely not Haven." Damas buried a curse in his hands.

"Gods I hate that place."

Daxter scowled. "Join the club."

"My name is Damas. I am the king of the territory of Spargus, and the man who pulled you out of the desert that surrounds us. And you are going to be an interesting case, I can tell."

Damas used his staff to drag a box from the side of the throne to just beside him. After some digging, he came up with an oddly shaped piece of metal.

"Ah. There it is."

He looked up.

"This is a battle amulet. Earning three grants adult newcomers citizenship and equal legal protections in the city."

"What if you're not an adult?" Jak challenged.

"Then you're already a citizen, but you can't vote until you're nineteen." Damas dismissed this as if it barely warranted mentioning.

"Now, understand this, boy: I am giving you your first amulet. And I will give you the modular gun. But you will not be allowed to take further trials until you pass eighteen years of age. I will hold your gate pass until such time as you can show me you have learned to survive in the wastes out there."

"You're keeping us here?!" Jak bristled.

"You're a minor. You had heatstroke. It happens. And since my people want to be idiots today evidently, you and I are going to be stuck with each other for a couple years. So you'd better get used to this place." Damas turned and stood up to stretch.

"Frith-rot-it. I have to go get the bloody intake forms, make a whole folder now- Do we even have more guardian ad litem forms?!"

He stepped somewhere behind the throne and seemed to vanish. "Amuse yourselves while I'm gone. No drowning in my throne room.".

And then he was gone , leaving the boys with more questions.

"What...what just happened?" Daxter asked.

Jak didn't have an answer.

[dangerpronebuddie]

😡😡😡😡😡

And

📋📋📋📋📋📋📋.pleaseeee

Hi dear! 15 sentences from the communication fight for you:

“Uh, did I dream the last few hours or weren’t you just here?” Eddie asked. “At least your version is a dream and not a nightmare,” Buck drawled. He brushed past Eddie into the living room, pacing in front of the couch.  Eddie frowned and followed him, standing at the arm of the couch. “Did something happen?” Spending four hours third wheeling his friend and best friend wasn’t exactly all sunshine and rainbows but it wasn’t the worst evening Eddie’s ever spent. It was at least marginally better than the time Buck brought Taylor over.  Buck stopped in front of Eddie and opened his mouth to say something. He closed it and started pacing again, scrubbing his hands over his face.  “Bud, you’re starting to worry me,” Eddie said, perching on the arm of the couch.  “Why can’t you be happy for me?” Buck stopped his pacing and turned to Eddie, a furrow between his brows.  The question hit him like he’d been struck. “What?” Eddie asked.  “You- you sulked the whole night, you barely ate, you wouldn’t hardly look at me,” Buck ranted. “I thought maybe you were having a bad night but I know what that looks like on you and this was different.”

And a few of the 21 for clipboard Buck:

“Too bad Michael’s not around,” Chim says, “you could’ve made him suffer your interrogation.”  “Oh I already called him,” Buck shrugs. “He had no problem answering my questions, unlike some people.” Bobby passes around the new pasta dish he and Buck made. “Learn anything interesting?” “A lot, actually,” Buck says. “It was… comforting talking to him about it. Made me feel a little better about realizing it so late.” “You weren’t late, Buck,” Hen assures him. “No one ever is.” She glances at Eddie. He’s this close to joining Ravi on the roof. 

Make Me Write!

[byfulcrums]

Something I love about ATLA is that it doesn't force the "forgive the villain" on all the characters. It's been left clear that Ozai is a bad person, and there's no chance of redemption; the only reason he's not dead yet is because Aang is a pacifist

The one episode where a character is supposed to forgive someone who has hurt them in the past is the one where Katara is off to kill a man (which, fair) and Zuko helps. In that episode, even if Aang is telling her to let go, she doesn't forgive him. She never will. But she spares him. Not because she thinks he doesn't deserve death (he does), but because she's not willing to continue the cycle of violence

Killing someone can have a very important impact in your entire being, mostly depending on who you are as a person. Aang would've never recovered from killing Ozai. Katara wouldn't be who she is now, had she taken her revenge on the man that killed her mother

And the best part of it is that Ozai doesn't deserve to die. Not in a "I'm defending him" way (ew), but in a "he deserves worse that than" way

Taking away his bending was the perfect punishment for him. He believed bending made you superior and he never cared enough to train something besides his bending. What a loser. Zuko and Azula wouldn't be restrained by something like that

He's alive. Nobody has forgiven him. Nobody ever will

[goldenblu]

i’m plotting out how the egghead arc is gonna go in my emotionless sanji au, and that + recent manga chapters have got me thinking about sanji and kuma potentially being parallels (or foils? idfk)

sanji, who is slowly having his emotions stripped away from him, for no reason other than the fact that terrible things were done to him before birth by an uncaring father.

and then there’s kuma. everything kuma did, every act of kindness disguised as cruelty, every choice he made—it was all for a hope in a better future, for a liberation he would not get to see. for a child he loved and was loved by.

both of them, meant to be weapons. neither of them wanted to be.

but at the end of the day, kuma is a father who sacrificed his humanity to save his daughter.

and sanji…well, sanji is a son whose humanity was sacrificed to serve his father. 

do you see it. do you see my vision.

[ezeva]

I recently start to read the morai and the lair of death and vipers by fightfirewithfire and i completely adore it, its so brilliant and its not even finish, but its one of big drarry fic who exist and i cant stop myself to read it soooo, i try to draw all of reference i can think in that, and try to draw harry the most closer to the author description

[blluespirit]

The other day I saw someone say that Jet would beat Zuko’s ass effortlessly in a sword fight, to which I say - does the epic fight in the tea shop mean nothing to you? They literally could not be more evenly matched 😭😭

[daffi-990]

Fuck it Friday

Tagged by the kind, wonderful and talented @hippolotamus 💕🦛

Chapters 1 & 2 of Rival Firefighters 🚒 are almost done annnnnd I’ve almost finished chapter 4 as well even though I have nothing written for chapter 3, only notes and an outline haha 😅

Buck getting fired in chapter one (just like he does in the pilot episode of season 1) is kinda kicking my ass. I just feel like he goes from “yeah I’ll steal the truck for sex” to “it was wrong to steal the truck for sex” really fast … but I guess losing your job really opens your eyes and puts things into perspective.

Here’s part of the firing scene that I don’t think sucks, so enjoy!

“No, Bobby. Bobby!” He runs in front of Bobby, placing a hand on his chest to stop him from leaving. “I need this job! Look, I love this job. Don't do this to me.” Buck begs, panic beginning to set in. He can’t lose this job. He can’t. “I don't have anything else,” he says as a last ditch attempt to change Bobby’s mind, but deep down he knows it’s no use.

“I'm sorry, kid. I said you're done.”

And Bobby actually does look sorry, which makes it hurt even more.

This is really happening, he’s really just lost the one thing in his life that made sense. Being a firefighter felt right, like Buck was exactly where he was meant to be. All the other jobs over the years, Buck always knew they had a time limit, a countdown beginning as soon as he started. But not firefighting. Sure, deciding to become a firefighter was a spontaneous random decision he made while bartending in Peru, but once he was in LA and all signed up at the academy, something had settled within him and he knew this time was different.

Bobby stops at the roof’s edge and calls out to him. “Bring the ladder truck back to the station immediately and then clean out your locker.”

Buck follows silently after him, his mind going a mile a minute, the sharp sting of venomous thoughts settling in. Fuck up. Can’t even keep a job. Not good enough. Failure. You cared about this job and still managed to fuck it up. This is why you can’t have nice things, because you break them.

He doesn’t remember the climb down or the drive back to the station or even getting out of the truck and returning the keys before making his way to the locker room. It’s like his body is moving on autopilot. Buck slumps down on the bench in front of the lockers in defeat, opening his locker and pulling his duffle bag out so he can start cleaning his stuff out. He hears the door open and the shuffling of feet and turns his head to see Hen cautiously approaching him.

“I guess you heard?” He turns back to his locker and grabs his spare clothes, shoving them roughly into his duffle.

No pressure tagging: @thewolvesof1998 @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @wikiangela @monsterrae1 @fortheloveofbuddie @forthewolves @eddiebabygirldiaz @jeeyuns @callmenewbie @mellaithwen @captain-hen @ladydorian05 @jesuisici33 @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck @giddyupbuck @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz @spotsandsocks @athenagranted @try-set-me-on-fire @rainbow-nerdss @spagheddiediaz @wildlife4life @weewootruck @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings

[alittlextrathatway]

Chapters: 33/? Fandom: Chicago Fire Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey Characters: Sylvie Brett, Matthew Casey, Kelly Severide, Leslie Shay, Stella Kidd, Joe Cruz, Randy "Mouch" McHolland, Nancy Casey, Christie Casey Jordan, Violet Jordan, Joe Cruz (Chicago Fire), Brian "Otis" Zvonecek, Jason Kannell Additional Tags: Part of the good/right/real universe, One Shot Collection, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Romance, Friendship/Love, Making Plans, Developing Relationship, True Love Series: Part 2 of the worthwhile fight Summary:

A one shot collection that is a continuation of the good/right/real universe. Now featuring a one shot set during 5x22:

Sylvie spent the rest of shift, giving Cruz a wide berth. Matt pretended not to notice. He’s grateful Cruz isn’t on Truck anymore. He’s not sure he could have handled that particular conflict of interest. Even before he and Sylvie started dating, he’d never been able to stand anyone who made her feel small. The fact that it was Joe Cruz who made Sylvie doubt herself made no difference.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Matt asked as they left the firehouse with his arm protectively hanging around her shoulders.

Sylvie turned her head and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Yes, I’m fine. It was just a blip in my confidence. You fixed me right up, Lieutenant.”

Matt nods but can’t resist tossing a glare over his shoulder, pointed at Cruz. Yes, Joe had a shitty day but taking it out on Sylvie was inexcusable. Cruz has the decency to look contrite, avoiding Matt’s brief stare.

UPDATED