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fanficshiddles · 4 years ago

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Unexpected Guest, One Shot

Thank you for the prompt I hope you like it! I am always honoured that you trust me to write your beloved OC! toshisurtsdottir submitted: Toshi lives far away in the forest somewhere in Scotland. After Loki is defeated in Avengers, he uses his last bit of energy to teleport away and hide from Heimdal. He ends up unconscious in front of Toshis hut.

Toshi was minding her own business in her garden at home. She lived deep the forest, in the highlands. Where she finally had peace, away from everyone who could cause her harm.

She was tending to one of her rose bushes, watering them, they were in full bloom and she loved them.

But suddenly, a large being from above came shooting out from a portal in the sky and landed right on top of her rose bush.

She was stunned for a moment, then she took in what exactly had fallen. It was a man. He was wearing armour, a lot of leather and some metal. She frowned as she took him in, then she realised who exactly it was. She had seen enough paintings of the Gods during her childhood to know when she was looking at one.

It was Loki. Prince Loki, of Asgard.

At first, she was confused. Then she was furious. How dare he land not only in her garden, but on her roses!

He wasn’t awake, she wasn’t sure if he was dead or just passed out. So she tipped her watering can up and poured water over him. But that didn’t work, he didn’t move.

‘Maybe he is dead.’ She muttered to herself and crouched down to check his pulse. There was a pulse, so he must’ve just hit his head hard, she thought.

Thinking it wouldn’t be good to leave a God outside her home, she dragged him inside. She could’ve lifted him, she had the strength, but she didn’t want to. Why not let his clothes get dusty and dirty? Since he had ruined her roses.

She left him on the floor by her sofa and went back outside to try and salvage what she could of her rose bush. And to keep an eye outside to make sure no one was looking for him, she didn’t want him to draw attention to where she was living.

When she went back inside a little while later, Loki groaned as he sat up, looking confused as he looked around him. Then he locked eyes with Toshi and he eyed her suspiciously.

‘Where am I?’

‘You’re in my house. In Scotland. Midgard.’ Toshi drawled, folding her arms over her chest as she stared at him.

Loki narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Still on Midgard… Why are you here, you are not of this realm?’

‘I could ask you the same thing.’ Toshi said.

Loki went to move and he hissed. ‘Ow.’ He reached to the back of his neck and pulled out a small thorn. ‘What the…’

‘You landed in my rose bush.’ Toshi hissed.

Loki sat up more and wiped his face, realising he was wet. ‘Why am I wet?’

‘I will say it again. You landed in my rose bush.’ Toshi snarled.

Loki narrowed his eyes at her and slowly raised up to his feet. He made a slight movement with his head and had himself dry with his magic.

‘Why are you here?’ He asked and stalked over to her, then he started circling her, taking in her appearance.

‘More to the point, why are you here?’ Toshi asked and she leapt away from him, to get away from his scrutinising. She noticed him looking at her scars, especially.

‘I am… in need of a safe haven for a little while.’ Loki admitted.

Toshi raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Well, you can’t stay here. I don’t want any trouble and I certainly don’t want anyone to come looking for you here.’

Loki glared at her. ‘Do you know who you are talking to? I am Loki, God of As’

‘Yeah, yeah. I know. God of Asgard. Prince Loki. Yadda yadda.’ She mocked him with her hands and headed towards the door.

‘Where are you from?’ Loki queried, intrigued.

Toshi sighed and turned back to face him. ‘If you must know, I am from Muspelheim.’

Loki’s eyes widened in realisation and slight awe. ‘You’re a fire giant?’

Toshi sighed and nodded.

‘Wait… You’re Toshi? Surtr’s daughter? The one who ran away?’ He said, slightly excited that he was meeting her. He’d heard all about her.

‘How do you know of me?’ She asked cautiously.

Loki sat down on the edge of her sofa, ignoring the look on her face at the fact he was making himself at home. But his tone was softer. ‘When you ran away, I remember your father and your sister, Mirtria, coming to one of the celebrations on Asgard. I overheard Frigga speaking to your father and he was saying that you had ran away.’

Toshi nodded slowly and sat down on the sofa opposite him. ‘Let me guess, he put on a fake sad face and acted like I meant so much to him?’

‘No, actually.’ Loki paused a moment. ‘Quite the opposite. Frigga swiftly left to talk to someone else, she is not one for listening to a parent talk badly of their child. For some reason, I always wanted to meet you after hearing of you. I had a feeling that something wasn’t quite right, your sister was… uhm, a delight.’ He scoffed and pulled a face, making Toshi laugh a little. ‘I think Odin and your father was trying to get us together, I managed to pawn her off to Thor. Though even he, with his tiny brain, realised to stay away from her.’

‘Are you saying all this just so I let you hide out here?’ Toshi asked.

‘No, I’m not. I know what it’s like to be an outcast, to be born a runt. Small for a giant.’ Loki said honestly. ‘But being able to stay for a while would be a plus.’ He grinned charmingly.

Toshi had not wanted to let Loki stay, but she ended up unable to say no...

She found herself having to share a bed with the God of mischief. Since he refused to sleep on the sofa, claiming it was no use for a God. Toshi was not going to give up her bed for him, so they ended up sharing.

It kind of helped that they had a few drinks that evening. And it kind of helped that they had shared more of their lives with one another, finding they had quite a lot in common and sympathising with each other. The main one being overshadowed by their sibling.

What also kind of helped was the fact that they started kissing and feeling each other up on the sofa. Which then quickly progressed to the bedroom.

They both fought for dominance, Toshi tried to get on top of Loki but he growled at her and bit her neck, making her yield as he pinned her down underneath him with his strength and wrapped a hand around her throat, keeping her in place.

‘Good girl.’ He purred when she finally gave in and stopped fighting to be on top, making her entire body shudder in delight at his praise.

Loki wanted to take his time to devour her, but his lust raged on and he was unable to contain himself. He used his skilful silver tongue for a while, to make sure she was wet enough. First tracing some of her scars that were on her body, before delving into her cunt and making her dance on the tip of his tongue. When he had her screaming his name in pleasure, he finally crawled up over the top of her and thrust into her, filling her with his cock.

Her sharp nails dug into his back, leaving deep marks. Loki bit her neck and shoulder in return, marking her as his on the outside as well as the inside, as his thrusts became more erratic and harder.

It was frenzied and rushed, but the both of them came almost together in the end. Loki finished first, emptying into her just before she started clenching hard around him. Her eyes rolled back in her head in pure ecstasy.

They were both sweating and panting when their bodies stilled, Loki remained within her as he let the weight of his body rest on top of her. Knowing she could take it. She loved feeling the comfort of him on top of her, oddly it was really soothing and made her feel safe.

‘For what it’s worth.’ Loki said as he nuzzled her cheek, making her smile. ‘I think you are far better off away from Muspelheim.’ He hummed.

Toshi smiled and squeezed her arms around him tightly, not wanting to let him go. ‘For what it’s worth... I forgive you for crushing my rose bush.’ She whispered, making Loki chuckle.

#Loki #Tom Hiddleston #fan fiction #one shot #prompt #unexpected guest #Loki x Toshi

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shimurah · 5 years ago

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The League of Villains, The Cycle of Sympathy and Salvation

In the Shie Hassaikai Arc, Eri, a child that resembles the League immensely, was introduced. With a deadly quirk, for which she was used, she created destruction by the hands of her adoptive father. Eri suffered a vast amount of abuse and manipulation, alongside being abandoned and notably frightened. Instead of ending as another rejected, doomed case, she was rescued, that being the most crucial difference with the League. Till that point, their situations were hand in hand, almost mirror-like to what Tomura's own past and present were to be revealed later on.

Tomura had lashed out with his quirk and destroyed his family. Much like Eri's debut scene, where she runs begging to be saved and is found by Deku, Tomura did the very same thing. He is seen dirty and covered with scars - parallel to how Eri was covered in bandages which Deku took note of - wearing a terrified, imploring expression. He disorientedly walks in a crowded street where people either turn a blind eye and pretended he was not there, or they dismiss it because, assuredly, a hero will do their job. There is no Deku for Tomura, no hero, not a single person but a man that will resume and increase the abuse Tomura was subjected to by his father.

The explicit code for salvation is the cape. Mirio, jeopardizing his life and quirk, for the sake of protecting Eri, a child in need, says:

"The reason heroes wear capes is to wrap up and protect little girls in pain."

Eri had been saved. The League was not.

In the recent chapters, Tomura himself stole the cape of a hero, embodying Tomura saving himself now that he can, when no hero did before. This once, Tomura did it for himself, by himself, but that is not the only time he laid aid when the heroes refused.

He was groomed in believing he can only destroy from the very first interaction with his "Master," ( AFO cultivating his "legacy" and ensuring his spot in the Trashiest Trash list of BNHA characters ) Tomura is repeatedly told so by AFO and the heroes themselves. He is dehumanized by the likes of heroes, seen as a "destruction tool," "a thing," which is precisely the approach AFO wanted. And yet, Tomura means much more for the League.

The sole purpose most have joined or stayed with the League is because Tomura will be the rebirth of their society and so they can choose their fates themselves. He had not accepted what fate the heroes struck his companions with; instead, he is giving them the freedom and acceptance they long to see. He is building a path where they no longer must rely on the corrupt system's condemnations.

The most failed hero - a child and woman abuser, who shaped his children in tools for his greed of power, a man that had a member of the League put within the most harmful circumstances resulting in the child's "death" - is now facing Tomura. A variety of scenarios could happen. Tomura may battle him, hold him occupied till Dabi arrives, give Endeav*r to Dabi on a silver plate, possibly take his quirk and give it to Dabi, and all of them serve to show what Tomura did and does for the League.

Now to my main point. As others have mentioned, Tomura giving Toga his cape is a likelihood. An embodying of Tomura and his cycle of salvation, where he offers Toga, a little girl in misery, the cape he had stolen.

Toga, who is out there grieving for one of the only people she genuinely managed to connect with wholesome, for Jin, who was ( and still is ) part of her little chosen family. She and Jin have one of the most significant connection in the manga - if not the most - formed of two characters who want to belong, of Jin, whose empathy knows no boundaries. And Toga, who herself, empathized with Jin during his breakdown, preventing him from losing sight who he is. She cares so much for Jin and was extremely broken by his death that she went alone on a fight that she may pay with her life. They had been each other's home and greatest friend.

The origin of their friendship was the sympathy and salvation they offered each other after sister Magne died. Tomura continuing the cycle by confronting Toga, wrapping her in the stolen cape as in handing Toga the salvation she - like Tomura, like Jin, like the others - have been robbed off. Tomura is not their hero because the word "hero" itself both lost it's meaning and did not hold one to begin with, but he is their friend, as they are his, and they will continue to save each other in all ways.

#manga spoilers #the league of villains #bnha #shigaraki tomura #toga himiko #imrmta

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 4 years ago

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Time Does Not Heal (find a new hobby)

ao3

Ozpin might be a fiend, a monster, a mad man. He is not a bad father. ------------------------

It was repulsive, how Salem continued to pretend to be the hero.

Only the two of them were alive to remember the argument that had started it all. Ozma, the second one, the reincarnated one, had told Salem about his mission given to him by the God of Creation, of uniting humanity. About the relics that would summon the Gods back to Earth, about how they would destroy humanity if they were divided.

About how Ozma didn’t want the Gods to return at all.

The Gods had taken nothing from humanity that they would miss. What was missing? Magic? Magic had only allowed humans to make more atrocities than they did now. Humanity was divided even before the Gods left; Ozpin still remembered the war between his people and the Nome King, the Sacking of Emerald City, the Battle of the Poppy Fields. He had faced a million and one tragedies created by man and man alone and the so-called Gods had done nothing.

Salem hadn’t seen it that way. Even after all their travels together, turning the first humans against the Gods, years of isolation, she was still the girl in the tower. The girl who was raised alone, innocent to everything in the world. She had no idea what humanity was truly like, she didn’t know how foolish it was to try to bring the Gods back.

But Salem… wanted to die. Even with Ozma back, she’d spent so much time alone that it was second nature to seek death.

When Ozma had bundled up their children in an escape, she had found them. She took it as a betrayal and destroyed everything they had shared, had loved. But Salem couldn’t kill him.

No, instead she had thrown him into the Grimm pits in hope that they would rob him of immortality.

Blistering hate surged through Ozpin at the memory. She had been foolish; instead of robbing him of his life everlasting, the pit had corrupted him. He had evolved to a higher plain of being, into a beast that wanted nothing more than to torture Salem for all eterenty. And he couldn’t torture her if she wasn’t alive.

Ozma sent armies against her. First the Grimm, who he controlled ever since his corruption. Then his Maidens, the souls of his first four followers granted magic and the ability to transfer their power after death. Admittedly, their transfer was far too close to his own and too random for his Maidens to always be on his side - sometimes Salem got to them first and claimed she had made the Maidens, taking credit for his work - but they were usually easy enough to convince. After all, what mortal doesn’t want to stop a woman from destroying Remnant?

Unfortunately, Salem is a good liar. She had convinced her allies that he wanted to see humanity suffer for eternity - which wasn’t too far off the mark, actually - and that he needed to be defeated. Bold of her to assume he could be defeated, but every silver-eyed warrior on her side believed he could. The silver-eyes were firmly in Salem’s pocket; they were her most beloved and trusted allies, so Oz destroyed them.

Which was why Ozpin was on this small island named Patch in Vale. All but one silver-eyed warrior had been murdered by his subordinates, assassins and bounty-hunters that he paid handsomely for each head delivered. He had decided to kill the last one himself: Summer Rose, a persistent thorn in his side. It felt only fitting to prune such a rose himself.

Ozpin approached the home that contained his target. With him came an early-morning storm, to darken the sky and set the mood. One of his Nevermores had spied on the woman for the past few days, reporting that she lived there with her family. Evidence of a child was all over the lawn - toys thrown about, a bicycle leaning against the house, a swing set visible from around the back. He frowned. He hadn’t wanted to get a child involved. It wouldn’t stop him, but he didn’t want one involved.

Hiding himself from all eyes with his magic, Ozpin infiltrated the house, the early morning darkness covering his entry. He left the backdoor wide open. The inside, a kitchen, was as messy as the yard, with more toys, and a flash of an old memory - a playroom in a castle, little hands pulling on his robes, Daddy, Daddy! - steals his attention for a moment. He shakes his head. There was no time for old ghosts now.

The kitchen led to a living room and Ozpin stepped around a medley of toys and weapon on the floor. On the couch snored a man with dark hair; Qrow Branwen, if he remembered correctly. The twin brother of one of Summer Rose’s partners. Another person who wouldn’t leave the house alive.

The stairs creaked under his weight. No sign of movement, no sign of anyone awake. The bedroom he was looking for was at the end of the hall- He paused. Ozpin could just barely hear it, even with his Grimm-enhanced hearing. The smallest whimper of a baby about to wail.

Automatically, Ozpin entered a room that wasn’t the master bedroom, throwing up a quick silencing spell so the rest of the house couldn’t hear him. It was a nursery, with a crib by the windows - a safety hazard, Ozpin thought idly as he approached. The whimpering belonged to a little baby, no more than six months old. It was clearly the child of Summer Rose; the infant looked just like its mother, down to the same, detestable eyes.

Well, that explained why Summer Rose had stayed still long enough for Ozpin to track down her residence.

His invisibility dropping, Ozpin picked up the baby. It stared up at him with watery, silver eyes and Ozpin cradled them against his chest, hiding his face lest he scare it. His fall in the Grimm pits left him pale and scarred with black veins that reappeared with each reincarnation. He swayed to soothe the child back to sleep, humming under his breath.

Ozpin wanted to move on, but his memories wouldn’t let him.

Ozma scooped up his youngest daughter, cradling her to his chest. The toddler babbled about anything and everything, and Ozma kept nodding along as he took Dorthey back to her room. “You need to go back to sleep now, Princess.” He and her mother were gods; of course their children would be princesses.

Dorthey pouted, but didn’t argue. “Kiss?” she asked.

Ozma smiled. “Of course,” he said and kissed her forehead.

“Toto kiss too?” She offered him her stuffed dog and laughed as he kissed Toto too, her silver eyes glittering.

Silver eyes. Like his daughters’.

Salem always used their daughters’ eyes as a weapon against him, he realized as he held one of the silver-eyed warriors.

The child didn’t feel like a warrior. She was fat and squishy, like all babies should be at her age. She wasn’t a weapon against him, not yet anyway. But she would be one. He might be able to avoid her silver gaze for now, but sooner or later…

Still, he found himself reluctant to waste the child.

Their sniffling stopped and looked up at him, no trace of fear in his eyes. Distantly, he recognized the sound of someone getting up and walking down the hall, but ignored it.

He had come here to kill Summer Rose, but found himself suddenly reluctant. Not out of any sympathy for the woman, but because he would have to kill her child as well, permanently eradicating his daughter’s eyes from the planet. He held the child closer to his chest. He’d killed many silver-eyed warriors, but never a child…

Oz had raised children before; a few of his medley of souls had children before he assimilated into them, though he never raised a child once Oz fully incorporated himself into his consciousness. It had been several lives since he’d even held a child.

The baby cooed softly, reaching a little hand up to touch Ozpin’s face. They looked like a copy of Summer Rose, with red highlights in their black hair. They were dressed in a red onesie too; a ruby-red rose, ripe to be plucked.

Such a sweet baby, he mused as he prodded one chubby cheek. Too sweet to be his enemy one day, too sweet to die with their family.

It was their eyes that made his decision for him. Kind eyes without a trase of fear, just trust. Like his little Dorthey.

Well, it wasn’t like he was below a little kidnapping.

Ozpin placed a hand over the baby’s head and whispered a spell in their ear. The child went limp in his arms, sinking into sleep. They were young enough not to need a memory spell, thankfully; Ozpin didn’t know if he’d be able to case one anyway with his limited magic.

He’d have to redecorate his castle, he realized as giddiness rose in him. There weren’t any rooms suitable for a nursery. It must be close to his own quarters too, so he could look after them. He could try to make a nanny-Grimm, for when he was too busy? But Grimm were instinctual creatures; even if he ordered them all not to harm the child - which he definitely would - there was a chance for error. Besides, he didn’t want to lose a valuable creature if their silver eyes activated.

Maybe he could have Watts create a robot nanny? Hazel could babysit while he got it done…

The door behind him slammed open. “Ruby!!” Ozpin stood calmly as Qrow Branwen and his sister, Raven Branwen, rushed into the room.

So, his new daughter’s name was Ruby. A pretty name. It suited her.

It took the Branwens a second to comprehend what was in front of them. He was sure it was rather shocking to them, being slaves to Salem’s whim, seeing their worst enemy not only in their house, but holding one of their children. His heart truly went out to them.

But, they were between him and the exit…

Raven’s face twisted with fury, drawing her katana. “Put her down,” she snarled.

Ozpin cocked an eyebrow. “No.” If anything, she should be grateful that he never set Ruby down. If it wasn’t for her, everyone in the house would be dead by now.

The twins didn’t seem to like that answer. They readied their weapons, with both Raven and Qrow about to-

Raven and Qrow…

Raven and Crow…

Ozpin smirked and a wave of magic erupted from his body and slammed into the Branwens. Lightning flashed through the window as the two collapsed, coughing desperately. Raven’s face was a mix of pain and hatred as her bones crunched and grinded against each other.

Qrow Branwen collapsed to his knees, holding his throat. “What- What did you do-!?” He spat out a mass of feathers.

Ozpin smiled. “I thought it funny for you two to… resemble your name-sakes a tad more.” They couldn’t stop their screams as their bodies contorted grotesquely, though Raven certainly tried to keep silent. Within minutes, the Branwen twins had been transformed into birds, a raven and a crow, he thought with sick delight.

Raven tried to dive-bomb him, screeching, but she was easily avoided. Ozpin tsked as he swatted the bird away and cuddled the sleeping Ruby closer to his chest. He ran his fingers through her fine hair. “Come now, dear. Let’s go home.”

#evil ozpin au #dadpin #evil dadpin au #ozpin rwby #ruby rose #qrow branwen #raven branwen #mentioned str crossed lovers #kidnapping tw #body horror tw #planned murder #i have two different evil dadpin aus now #help #i'll call this version #Singular Evil Dadpin AU

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awkwardpenguinproductions · 4 years ago

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Perspective

Part 11 of the Dragon of the Yuyan

Read on AO3 | Series Masterpost

Bato usually takes his evening walk a lot earlier than this, so that he can catch the sunset over the water and marvel (two years away from home and he’s still not used to the sun actually rising and setting more than twice a year). Tonight, however, a series of events have conspired to make him late, and the sun has just set when he finally leaves the Abbey and heads down to the beach toward his ship.

A month after the skirmish, and his burns are still tender and stiff, but the sisters are well-versed in healing and Bato knows it’s nearly time to move on. Hakoda and the rest of the Fleet should be somewhere in the Eastern Earth Kingdom by now, and Bato is just waiting for his Chief to send word so that Bato can rejoin his brothers.

As he approaches his ship, a flickering orange light pierces the darkness, and his heart stops for a moment. Firebenders? But the only sounds are the waves of the sea against the sand and the crackling fire, so Bato keeps his hand on his dagger and approaches cautiously.

As he gets closer, he can see the silhouette of someone sitting before a campfire, someone with what looks to be a shaggy wolf-tail. A stick snaps under Bato’s foot, and the person jolts, standing and whirling around with a weapon in hand.

“Who’s there?” Calls out an achingly familiar voice, and Bato can’t believe it.

“Sokka?” He asks, stepping into the circle of firelight. And so it is, his Chief’s son, relaxing from his fighting stance.

“Bato?” His voice has deepened, and cracks on the end where it turns up in question.

“Who the what now?” Another voice asks, male and young, and Bato can see a small body resting on one of the legs belonging to a huge furry creature the size of his ship. Across the campfire from Sokka, Katara sits up in her sleeping bag and calls out, “Bato!”

Bato braces himself as both Sokka and Katara run over to hug him, with the smaller boy and another one, nearly fully grown and shrugging a quiver over his shoulder. “Sokka, Katara! It is so good to see you! You’ve grown so much!”

“Hi, I’m Aang, and this is Zuko,” the small boy says, bowing and indicating his taller companion, who also bows. Bato is about to greet them, but Sokka speaks before he can.

“Where’s Dad?”

“Is he here?” Katara asks eagerly.

Bato hates to disappoint them, but there’s no point in prevaricating, so he tells them where Hakoda and the fleet are and invites them to the Abbey.

His niece and nephew are delighted with his room, while Avatar Aang grimaces in poorly disguised disgust and the silent Zuko glances around with an appreciative air. Bato wants to ask the boy about the massive burn scar on his face, maybe compare battle stories, but Sokka and Katara command his attention, and his relief and delight at seeing them and finding them well overwhelm his instinct to be a good host.

They eat their fill of stewed sea prunes and talk. Aang tries to participate in the conversation, while Zuko doesn’t say a word, but watches everyone keenly, and Bato could swear that his eyes flicker gold in the firelight. That’s impossible, though— Sokka and Katara more than anybody know better than to trust ash-makers . Bato puts the thought out of his mind, and conversation turns to Hakoda and the Southern Water Tribe fleet.

When he tells them about the message he’s expecting from Hakoda, the kids’ faces light up.

“Really?” Katara squeals.

“When?” Sokka demands. Between them, Zuko looks up from the arrows he’s fletching, a small smile on his face.

“Any day now,” Bato replies, almost as excited as them. “Your father said he’d send a message when they found the rendezvous point. If you wait until the message arrives, you can come with me, and see your father again.”

Sokka beams. “It’s been over two years since we’ve seen Dad! That would be so incredible! Katara!”

“I do really miss him,” Katara sighs wistfully. “It would be great to see Dad.”

“It’s been far too long, hasn’t it?” Bato commiserates. He misses his brother warriors like he would miss his limbs. “I’m not sure when word will arrive, but when it does, you’re more than welcome to come along to see your father.”

Both the kids deflate suddenly. “It would be great, but we can’t,” Sokka says gravely. “We have to get Aang to the North Pole.”

“Even if we do have time to wait for the message, who knows how far we’d have to travel?” Katara adds with typical pragmatism. “We don’t have time for a long detour.”

Bato is disappointed, but also immensely proud, and knows that Hakoda will be as well, and says so. Sokka and Katara beam, and Zuko looks a bit relieved.

With the break in conversation, Bato turns his attention to the archer, and now that he has consistent light from the whale oil lamps hanging around the room, realizes that the boy really is just a boy, perhaps a year or so older than Sokka. The burn scar on his left eye dominates his pale face, despite being half hidden under shaggy black hair.

"You've been very quiet, Zuko, I'm sorry we've been so rude," Bato says, shooting a playfully scolding look at Katara and Sokka, who sheepishly smile and smirk respectively. "I'm Bato, first subordinate to Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe Coalition."

Zuko smiles, balls one hand into a loose fist, and taps the fingers against his mouth.

"Zuko doesn't talk," Sokka says with a shrug. "We don't know why––he's teaching us his hand language, but it's kind of slow going. He can write, but he hasn't really told us much of anything about himself. Can we tell him? He's trustworthy, he's basically my dad's common sense." Sokka has turned to Zuko, who is now eyeing Bato thoughtfully, and he can feel himself shiver as that gaze lays him open and reads him like a book. Those eyes glint gold again, and Bato has a bad feeling.

Zuko nods, short and sharp.

"Okay, so Zuko here defected from the Fire Nation, basically," Sokka states, quick and simple, like ripping off a bandage. "Aang had gotten himself captured by this seriously bad news Admiral, and Zuko got him out. As soon as Aang learns Zuko's language, Zuko's going to teach him firebending."

A firebender.

A firebender. Next to his kids. Traveling with the Avatar.

A firebender. In. His. Room.

The smoke from the cookfire is choking. Pain races up and down Bato's arm. The ash-maker is too close. Too close to the cookfire, too close to the kids, too close to Bato . The knife is in his hand before he even thinks to draw it.

"Bato!"

Katara sounds scared. She should be, she's sitting next to a firebender. Ash-makers killed Kya.

"Bato. Stop. Put it down."

Hakoda? But Hakoda's in the East.

"Bato." The voice rings with Hakoda's authority, and it pierces some of the haze that's settled over Bato's mind. "Bato. There is no threat. Put. The knife. Down. "

Bato blinks, and suddenly he's back, in his room at the Abbey, and when had he stood up? The knife falls to the floor beside his foot. Sokka stands before him, tall, so tall when did he get so tall, his own dagger drawn and held at the ready, half in front of a white-faced, kneeling Zuko being comforted by Katara.

"Bato." Sokka has never sounded more like his father than he does in this instance, and Bato almost snaps to attention on instinct. He drags his eyes away from the prostrate firebender to his best friend's son, who is studying him with a hunter's gaze, cool and assessing and sharp. When did Sokka transform from a goofy boy to this warrior?

"Bato," Sokka says again, steel threading his voice. "Zuko is under the protection of the Chieftain's Heir. He is not to be harmed by word or deed. Doing so is an affront to me, and to my father as Chief. Do I have your word as a Warrior of the Water Tribe?"

This man will make a great Chief someday, Bato thinks, as he drops to one knee and says aloud, "I swear by Tui and La as a Warrior of the Water Tribe that Zuko of the Fire Nation shall not be intentionally harmed by word or deed by my hand.”

Sokka nods sharply, sheathes his dagger, and turns to his friend, dropping to one knee and murmuring to him. After a few nods and headshakes, and one odd gesture where Zuko shakily places one loose fist palm out on his forehead and then stretches out the thumb and pinky finger, the firebender slowly gets to his feet and disappears out the door. Sokka and Katara share a look, and Sokka sits back down facing Bato.

“Okay, what in La’s name just happened?” He asks, pinning Bato with a hard look.

Bato shifts uneasily on his mat. “Where is he going?”

“That’s not the question right now, but he’s gonna go hang out with Appa for a while,” Sokka replies, waving a hand as though letting a firebender run around a peaceful Abbey was nothing to worry about. Sokka must have seen something of his worry on Bato’s face, because his blue eyes turned to sharpened ice. “Zuko has my trust. If it weren’t for him, Katara and I would have died, and Aang would be on a ship to the Fire Nation capital as a trophy. You’re on thin ice, though. What. Just. Happened?”

Bato bows his head. “Ever since your father brought me here, I’ve been… struggling,” he says quietly. “Fire is not the comfort it once was. Firebenders figure… prominently… in my nightmares. When you said that Zuko was going to teach the Avatar firebending… I’m afraid I lost my head a little bit.”

Sokka’s lips press into a line. “That’s not a good thing, Bato,” he says. “You need to get a grip on that, because to end this war we’re going to need Fire Nation allies. Including firebenders. We can’t afford to alienate people willing to work with us just because you can’t handle that they bend fire.”

Bato knows he’s right. Every word is exactly as Hakoda would have said, and Bato has every intention of telling his best friend exactly how much his son has grown.

“I suppose I should apologize to Zuko,” Bato sighs, running a hand over his face. He should probably talk to one of the sisters about his reaction, as well. They’re pretty well skilled in healing both bodies and minds, and he does not want a repeat of tonight when and if the issue of …firebending allies… comes up again.

Sokka nods, but Katara pins Bato with a frown. “It can wait until morning,” she declares. “Give him a chance to calm down.”

Aang returns, a bit obnoxiously cheerful in the solemn room, and Bato wonders at the Spirits who had seen fit to grant the world a child Avatar.

Zuko doesn’t return.

The next morning, Bato leaves his room and finds Zuko in the courtyard, practicing what look like bending forms. Aang sits nearby, watching with wide eyes. The older boy is stripped to the waist, even in the chilly morning air, and every movement he makes is controlled, precise, and calculated. There is no fire, most likely in deference to their current location, but Bato can easily imagine the flames bursting from Zuko’s strikes and trailing like ribbons from his kicks.

Zuko finishes his practice, spots Aang, and reaches the Avatar’s side in long strides. He makes a series of gestures, fluid and quick, to which Aang responds with his own slow, clumsy movements. Zuko corrects him, fixing the positioning of fingers and guiding the movement of hands, all with a gentleness that Bato would never have expected to see from a firebender. Aang tries again, and this time gets an approving nod. Aang beams and skips away. Zuko shakes his head, smiling wryly, and Bato takes the opportunity to approach.

As soon as he takes the first step, Zuko’s face snaps in his direction, his entire body going stiff and his expression wiping clear. The boy watches keenly as Bato comes closer, eyes darting here and there as though searching for weapons, but Bato had made sure to leave every weapon he has in his room this morning. No need to make the situation worse. He stops just out of his own arms’ reach, and is gratified to see Zuko relax just a little bit.

“Zuko, I would like to apologize for my behavior last night,” Bato says formally. “I do not know quite what came over me, but I will ensure that it does not happen again. I am sorry; I know I frightened you, and I sincerely apologize.”

Zuko’s posture slowly relaxes, although he never loses the military-erect stance. He forces a half-smile at Bato, shrugs a little, and makes a quick couple of shapes with one hand before striding off in the direction of the bathhouse.

Later that morning, Bato and the kids head back to Bato’s ship, and Bato takes them “ice dodging”, if it can be called such when dodging rocks instead of ice. Despite Zuko’s and Aang’s obvious inexperience with sailing, the kids all work together flawlessly, and Sokka’s use of his crew’s bending abilities is inspired.

When it’s over, Bato takes a bowl of face paint and conducts the Marking ceremony.

“The Spirits of Water bear witness to these Marks!” He intones, and draws the first mark on Sokka’s forehead. “For Sokka, the Mark of the Wise. The same Mark your father earned. For Katara and Zuko, the Mark of the Brave. Your courage inspires us.” When Zuko flinches as Bato reaches to draw the Mark on his forehead, Katara takes the bowl from him and draws it herself. “Your courage is especially inspiring, Zuko,” Bato continues, smiling at the young man. “I know that I didn’t give you much reason to trust me, and your decision to bend despite your fear that I might attack you showed enormous courage and trust in your fellow warriors. That is truly inspiring.”

Bato takes the paint bowl back from Katara and turns to Aang. “And for Aang, the Mark of the Trusted. You are now an honorary member of the Water Tribe, as is Zuko.”

He draws the Mark on Aang’s forehead, over the blue arrow, but instead of looking happy, Aang’s eyes are downcast.

“I can’t,” he says quietly.

“Sure you can!” Katara says brightly, while Zuko and Sokka look confused.

Aang wipes off the Mark and backs away. “No, you can’t trust me,” he asserts.

"What are you talking about?" Katara demands, and Zuko begins to look alarmed as Aang curls in on himself, and pulls a crumpled piece of parchment from his tunic.

"A messenger gave this to me for Bato," he says quietly.

Bato can only watch as the crew that had worked together so well just twenty minutes ago falls apart before his eyes.

Sokka shouts, Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs silently, and Katara stands staring at Aang with a heartbroken expression on her face until Sokka stomps away and demands, "Katara, are you with me?"

She pauses for a moment, but only a moment, and then her shoulders stiffen and she closes her eyes and replies quietly, “I’m with you, Sokka.”

As Sokka leads the way back to the Abbey, Bato glances back to see Zuko cuff Aang across the back of the head.

Everyone is packed and ready to leave within an hour, and after a brief goodbye at the Abbey gates, Aang and Zuko go one way with Appa and Momo, and Bato leads Sokka and Katara in the opposite direction.

They walk in silence for a long time, and Bato doesn’t really know how to lighten the oppressive sadness that surrounds the kids. He’s thrilled to finally be returning to his brother warriors, and he’s so excited to be bringing his niece and nephew to see their father. They’ve both grown so much, and Bato can’t wait to see the look on Hakoda’s face when he sees them.

A wolf howls in misery somewhere in the distance, and Bato feels his spirit howling in answer.

“That wolf sounds so sad," Katara says quietly.

"It's probably wounded," Sokka replies.

"No, it's been separated from the pack," Bato interjects. "I understand that pain. It's how I felt when the Water Tribe warriors had to leave me behind. They were my family, and being apart from them was more painful than my wounds."

Sokka has a pensive expression on his face as he turns to study the path they had just walked.

"Sokka?" Katara asks.

Sokka takes a deep breath, and Bato knows what he's going to say before he says it. "We need to go back. I wanna see Dad, but helping Aang is where we're needed the most. And Zuko… he can probably take care of himself okay, but if he gets to the North Pole and the Tribe doesn't believe Aang when he tells them Zuko's on our side… We need to go back."

Katara smiles. "You're right."

Bato is so, so proud of them he could burst. He strides forward and puts a hand on each of their shoulders. "Your father will understand, and I know he's proud of you."

There's only the slightest shake in Sokka's voice as he says, "Thanks, Bato."

"I know where to go from here," Bato continues, and fishes the map out of his tunic to hand to Sokka. "Take this in case you want to find us. I'll leave a message at the rendezvous point."

The kids each give him a hug, and Bato continues up the path alone.

It takes a month and a half, three weeks of which are spent sailing, but Bato eventually makes it to the cove in Chameleon Bay where the Southern Water Tribe fleet is anchored. During this time, the moon actually disappears for about half an hour or so, and Bato is terrified out of his wits until it reappears. He doesn't want to think about how that could have happened, so he puts it out of his mind until he's reunited with his brother warriors.

Hakoda embraces him with tears in his eyes, the strength of his hug around Bato's middle a testament to his worry. The men tease him about his "vacation", and Bato gives as good as he gets, ecstatic to be back with his brothers.

That night, around the campfire, Bato turns to his Chief.

"Hakoda," he says, "you'll never guess who I ran into."

Previous | Next

#atla #atla fanfic #awkpenproductions presents #dragon of the yuyan #part 11 perspective #full text post

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airiustide · 4 years ago

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forever young. forever you.

Day 1: Reunion

Rated: T

Summary: Lu Ten has a son. Zuko no longer had a claim and disappears without a trace. When things become restless in the former Fire Nation colonies and Katara is requested to aid the White Lotus in a strike against the Ozai Society four years later, never would the waterbender anticipate who she would find during her stay. Yet this was no time for a happy reunion. Zuko is dying and Katara realizes it's too late to save him.

A/N: a seven part piece for zutara week.

Also posted on: AO3

@zutaraweek

***

Lu Ten has a son.

The day the boy had come carried in the arms of a relative and a confession carefully written on parchment by his deceased mother, the tides had shifted. Iroh, filled with utter joy, now had a piece of his son in the form of a four year old boy and Zuko no longer had a claim.

It was only natural that the rightful heir take his place. The Earth Kingdom woman who had stolen the heart of a soldier boy gave birth to a firebender. Iroh was thrust back in the world of Fire Nation politics, now Lord regnant until his grandson came of age. There was no mistaking how pleased many were to see the once banished prince removed from power. In fact, Zuko whole-heartedly agreed, graciously stepping down without a single objection.

The former Fire Lord who had risked his title and livelihood was thrust our of court. With a war criminal father, a legally insane sister and a treacherous mother, what was left for him but a string of failures and bad blood running through his veins? The world was quick to discard his accomplishments in favor of this unknown boy not even three month into Zuko’s reign.

“Something about this doesn’t feel right.” Aang says quietly to himself, his worry apparent on his face. It does not fail to reach his companions’ ears.

“There must be a way for you to continue your reign.” Katara muses. “It can’t just end here. What you did, you’re uncle turning down his rights and proclaiming you heir in his place, just like that, it’s over? You earned this.”

“Hate to break it to you, Sugarqueen, but blood outranks merit.” Toph informed her with her feet propped up on the arm of Zuko’s lounge chair, a pinky buried in her ear. “No matter how good or bad a person is, as long as they carry the right gene, the position of power is handed down on a silver platter.”

“I say he got a pass.” Sokka added his input. “Dodging a bullet like that? Now it’s somebody else’s problem. Besides, the nation’s in good hands, the kid comes from Iroh’s line of tea-loving cookiness.”

“I swear, you can be so insensitive.” Katara scolded, shooting daggers at her brother. Turning to Zuko, she softens. “If you talk to your uncle, I’m sure he can work things out with the council.”

Zuko doesn’t look at the others. He peers into the distance, the palace vast and large and stretched out so far, that a concern twists in the others guts as they notice his concentration stone dead on the sea beyond it.

“Zuko, buddy?” Sokka breaks his concentration.

“Hm? Did you guys say something?”

The Gaang glance at one another. They expected an outburst, a display of disappointment or even anger- which they thought was completely justified. Instead, for the first time ever, Zuko expresses indifference; completely unreadable to the people who know him best.

“Something about this doesn’t feel right.” Aang repeats.

Katara dismisses it. They were all worried, of course, but that’s all that it was, just worry. Temporary. Spirits, how she would come to regret this, for none of them could have ever predicted this would be the last time they would see Zuko.

They couldn’t stay. There were people who needed them. There were wounds heal, homes to rebuild. A jagged scar slashed upon the world that required years of patching; trust was fragile like glass. Glass wasn’t so easy to keep together when the spider cracks ran deep.

Aang was the first to leave, his Avatar duties calling him once again. Suki was next. Toph stayed to comfort the Fire Lord with the little time she had spared before reuniting with her parents; without her, Iroh would not have so easily been able to weed out those who opposed his claim and sought to harm his grandson. But at night, he shut himself away; the former Dragon of the West lost another son. It became apparent when eight months of his whereabouts were officially unknown.

The water tribe siblings were last, their stay becoming less and less necessary. Zuko wasn’t coming back and Iroh denied company a month within the former Fire Lord’s disappearance, only showing his face to young Koji.

‘Let him grieve in his own way’ Toph had told Katara before she left. ‘Over staying our welcome will not help him and we all know once Sparky sets his mind on something, there’s no changing it.’

‘How can he just...leave? Without a trace, without a word? Especially to his Uncle?’

Toph shrugged, ‘I think Twinkletoes was onto something when he said this didn’t feel right’

Katara’s brows lifted. ‘I’m pretty sure he was referring to Koji’s sudden appearance.’ Katara retorted.

Toph shook her head, sighing before throwing a sack over her shoulder and planting a bare foot on the metal plank leading to the ship taking her home. ‘Even you couldn’t have missed it, Sugarqueen; Sparky wasn’t just not himself, it was like...he was prepared for all this to go down.”

Katara scoffed. ‘There’s no way he could have foreseen Lu Ten having a son.’

‘No;’ Toph muttered, ‘No, Sparky wouldn’t have kept this from us, but he’s holding back something. People don’t just disappear like that without a word.” The earthbender snapped her fingers. ‘Not even the ever dramatic firepants.’

Katara looks back to that time, a year ago. People just don’t disappear like that, the nineteen year old waterbender repeated to herself. But what could make Zuko, a persistent and loyal man to his friends and country, vanish?

“There’s a disturbance in the West. The colonies have become restless and there’s rumors of an organization on the rise of executing a vicious plan against the crown prince.” Aang points to the sky with his staff. He doesn’t look at her. He hasn’t looked at her in a year.

Katara nods, a grim countenance taking over her face. One year ago, her lip would have trembled and her heart would grip. “Is that where you’re headed?”

“No.” Aang replied flatly. "In fact, Piandao himself had requested both our assistance."

He definitely hates me, Katara surmised. She sighs, blue eyes flickering over to the now teenage Avatar. His face had slimmed down from his round features, his stature tall and lean. He had grown into a young man widely recognized for his accomplishments in defeating Ozai and his vision in bringing the world harmony, a beacon and home for all walks of the four nations.

That’s why Katara was here, aiding him in decisions such as selecting the city council, inaugurating policy and trade, and reviewing applications for small and large businesses eager to establish their wealth in the newly developed city.

“It won’t be easy to break up an organization ring like the Ozai Society.” Aang glances over at Katara briefly. “The fact that they have bases in different locations among both the Fire Nation and the colonies makes it all the more difficult.”

“Then striking at once would be the only solution.” Katara added. “I knew there were people who conspired against Iroh and Koji but I can’t believe the Ozai Society strengthened since-” She swallows the rest of her words.

“The White Lotus has kept me up to date. They have several groups positioned at each location, some placing spies among the ranks. Unfortunately, my focus remains here with the unrest with the benders and the non-benders and I’m afraid my absence will only escalate things. I would love to oversee it personally-

“-but since the Ozai Society has yet to take action, your presence might hasten their plans.”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll go.” Katara offered.

“Actually, I was thinking-”

“I’ll go.” She insisted. Aang frowns much to her dislike. He didn’t even want her in Republic City. The only reason he made way was due to her forcefulness. That’s when they were together and that’s when things between them became complicated. Katara was not a sideliner and she was not going to wait for her boyfriend to seek her when he was good and ready to come around. At first, she moved here to be closer to him, or so she thought; in reality, she came here for herself.

“It’s dangerous.” Aang warned her.

“And if you knew me, you’d know I can be too.” Katara turns on her heels, curling her fingers in her long, chocolate hair out of nervous habit. This was them now, no longer Aang and the Avatar’s girl. No longer the people they thought they were to each other but the reality of their separate lives. “I’ll leave at first light.”

Former Lieutenant Jee was the first to greet her when her airship docked. He had not aged a day. Katara bows, then extends a hand in greeting. Instead, the older gentleman pulls her in for a hug. She laughs, returning it in kind.

Jee informs her that the White Lotus has reserved a room for her at one of their secret locations, disguised as a seedy bar tucked away between a rundown general store and a bakery. It’s late afternoon when they arrive, patrons hardly occupy the dining area. A young boy eagerly takes Katara’s belongings after being tipped generously by Jee. He departs, stating that he will be back for her come morning to meet Master Piandao to go over strategy.

There’s a flight of stairs leading to the second floor where a line of rooms are rented. The boy places her belongings at her bedside, informing Katara that dinner will be served at sundown. She uses this time to unpack, pondering how Master Piandao and the others had been. Sokka would be jealous when he learns Katara will be working with him, imagining the recently made Chieftain's dramatic reaction in front of Suki and their newborn twins. The waterbender chuckles to herself, lying down in bed.

Waking from a quick nap leaves her hungry. Katara washes her face from the basin in her washroom then makes her way downstairs. The place is now at full capacity; loud with rumbustious guests and drunken regulars.

The waterbender worries little, having encountered this on many occasions during her travels around the world, even trying an ale or two.

She maneuvers between tables so she could reach the bar stand where she recognizes the owner as one of the Lotus members; a short, white haired woman well into her sixties, with the smile of an angel and the mouth of a sailor.

Katara leans over the counter top, waving to the barkeeper. The older woman nods to the waterbender an acknowledgement while handing a tray of food to her clumsy granddaughter. A loud crack and a strangled cry behind Katara provokes her to snap her head at the owner of that humiliating scream. She’s horrified to find an open hand reaching for her rear and a gloved, larger one bending it back in at an ungodly angle.

Katara gaze locked on the stranger clothed in all black with two dao swords strapped to his back, his face covered save his eyes, which were curtained by his shaggy, dark hair. She gasped at the sight of amber meeting her stare and the hint of marred, pink tinted skin.

Before she could process the stranger, or the pervert writhing for dear life, she’s brought back with a snap and a high-pitched scream. He’s not in front of her anymore, weaving through the crowded room for the door.

#zutara #zutara week #zutara week 2020 #zuko x katara #zuko #katara #fanfiction #zutara fanfiction #ao3 #day 1 #reunion

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nabrizoya · 5 years ago

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Thanks for the prompt, mate, @jb-lh. Sincerely hoping you enjoy this!

Prompt: 46 + “Please don’t say that about yourself. Don’t believe that. You’re so much more than that. You’re so...”

Ship: Thomas x Alastair (Thomastair)

White Tulips and Purple Hyacinths

Ambling through Hyde park with Alastair Carstairs was not what Thomas had expected on a nimble December evening. As such, he was equal parts wary and interested. The London skyline was a melancholy orange blurring against the snow atop trees and buildings. It reminded Thomas of pumpkins covered with cream.

He thrust his fisted hands into his pockets. Silence ensued. “I like blueberries,” Alastair started.

He glanced at the boy next to him. “What?”

Alastair waved his outstretched hand towards a distant tree with budding flowers. There were scars that were beginning to fade on his knuckles, looking elegant on his caramel skin. “Those flowers you see there, they grow into blueberries. I know.”

Thomas looked away, not sure how to respond. Were there blueberry plants in Hyde Park? He decided to say, “I once had a blueberry pastry. It was nice.”

They walked along mutedly, each lost one another’s silence. Thomas felt dreadfully awkward; he should have turned back when he had first noticed Alastair instead of reckoning a conversation. It hadn’t even been him; Alastair had started talking after he’d returned Thomas’s curious yet accidental gaze. Alastair had been by the lake, looking at the ducks forlornly. Did he like ducks?

“You seem to know a lot about flowers,” Thomas ventured finally. He relaxed his fingers in his pocket before adjusting his mittens. Oddly, it struck him only then that Alastair was not donning his gloves. He wasn’t sure what to make of it either. In truth, he had no idea what to make of Alastair at all.

“I do,” Alastair replied, but did not continue. Many moments of silence later, he carried on, “I- when Cordelia and I were children, we grew up in Iran at the Institute.” Thomas looked at him, only to find stagnant brown eyes looking up at him hesitantly. “You would like it there, I think.”

Thomas paused. “I think I would,” he agreed. His interest in history and the slowly growing curiosity towards ancient architecture did lead him to the structural marvels of Persia. He had looked up the books on buildings and the history they contained. London had its fair share of history, but two places were never the same.

“You would,” Alastair confirmed assuredly, his posture and tone changing at the mention of his home. “The lands; every grain of sand in the deserts around, every leaf and flower, each trace of a design and creation has a story. It is life personified. You like history,” he pointed and continued, “you would like Persia.”

“I like history,” he agreed absently. He was more focused on how Alastair’s shoulders had released some tension. “I like languages too. I speak Persian.”

“I know,” he nodded and then froze.

Breeze swayed the trees, gently shaking the leaves that shed their little share of snow. A flew leaves blew into their faces. When they dusted away, there was snow still harbouring the side of Alastair's shining hair.

“Have you read the Rubaiyat?” Thomas asked instead, a little more determined to not let the conversation go astray. Alastair was trying; it wouldn’t harm to see how this discussion could take a different turn. James, surprisingly, was the one to suggest to give Alastair a chance. To tell him that Alastair was indeed trying to mend things. Thomas had then spoken to Cordelia who had only assured to make the choice his.

“Have you forgiven him?”

“I did,” she’d said. “I truly believe my brother is trying to make amends. He has...” Cordelia hesitated. “Thomas, if I tell you something, would you give your word to keep it to yourself?”

When he had promised his assent, Cordelia began to explain the days of desolation that Alastair had spent after returning from the academy. She elaborated on Alastair’s moodiness and withdrawal from reality. How he often resorted to spending his time by himself, making himself unworthy of love and respect and conversation. She mentioned the bruises she had seen along his face and arms as though he had been in battles all day along. Instead, he had been climbing trees, sometimes wielding his spears from the topmost ones as a part of his practice. His aim was very poor, Cordelia had said, much to Thomas’s shock.

“I wish I knew better,” she’d sighed. “He always held darkness in him, and I have come to realise that myself only a few months ago.” With some doubt then, she had further explained the origins of a letter that contained some details that were not Cordelia’s to speak about, a letter about which Alastair had extracted a promise from her.

“I understand,” Thomas sympathized.

“I have not,” Alastair said now, gazing at the flowers around them, “However, I plan to. Cord- Layla gifted a copy of it to me this birthday.” In a soft tone he added, “She wanted- She told me to embrace where I am from and not conceal who I am.”

“Cordelia is wise,” Thomas agreed. “There were moments where a few of my Persian words were smudged by my accent. She offered to correct me. I was glad that she did.”

His companion merely nodded, albeit deftly. Thomas felt his own nerves ease. “Like I mentioned earlier, when we were children growing up in the Institute, we had regal gardens. They are still there and when we frequent it as a vacationing destination, we spend time in the gardens.”

Thomas followed his narrative closely. “Our mother ensured us the knowledge of flowers and their meanings, plants, herbs and the medicinal uses that they can be put to. Cordelia knows them all but I’m afraid I might have forgotten them. We learnt perfumery too.

“I’m ashamed,” he endured. Thomas glanced at him sharply. “Years of my life, I wasted away in hiding- hiding behind insecurity and, uh, and bearing through childhood- and in the process, I have hurt people beyond repair.” Thomas continued to gaze at him, though Alastair did not meet his eyes. Instead, he kept looking ahead, staring off into the distance.

How was he to offer comfort to him here? Thomas looked at the lake and momentarily thought of James. He thought of the kind things he could tell Alastair. However, he was unsure of the meaning and value that Alastair might hold of his words, if Alastair held any.

They trudged in eerie quietude. Songbirds chirped high in the trees, weaving an evening melody. “Cousin Jem told me,” Alastair resumed, “that life offers a second chance to those who ardently seek for it. I do not know why I am telling you this; perhaps I want you to know that my heart weighs down everyday with the guilt I carry for being an arse.” He must have presumed Thomas would laugh at that, but Thomas gave no reply.

He wondered if he could assure him, to tell him to not think or say that about himself, that he was more than that, more than the guilt he carried. Those were the words he would commit to any of his friends with certainty when their esteem fell below their knees. Thomas curled his fingers and relaxed his fists. The words to assure the fellow felt hollow to him; he was desperate to say something, but the wound was still raw. Why hadn’t he turned away? Why did he continue the conversation with him? He wasn’t prepared.

For a briefest moment, Thomas wondered if Alastair really meant his apology, if that even was one. Rage had tore through him for the many months after the confession during Cordelia’s engagement. Now he only felt numb and empty.

Despite the assurances he had about Alastair from his friends, he was uncertain about what to think of him. The tears that his parents had shed when the rumour began to devour their family was vivid in his memory. It was the first time he had seen his father, an excellent, kind and virtuous man, cry. His sisters were pale with anger at the audacity of the Enclave to even partake in such nonsense and his mother had wept, her dignity compromised by mere words. Just a rumour to question years worth of loyalty.

Thomas himself had felt invalidated, but Aunt Tessa’s words were always there for affirmation. He had brushed the rumours off and so had the rest of London eventually. It struck him only then how odd Matthew must have felt when he heard the senseless claims about his father. How Charlotte and Henry had faced their woes. Had there been anybody with whom Matthew had shared his grief? James might know, he thought solemnly, yet his gut nagged no. He didn’t think it was possible that Matthew had shared his pain with someone. The guilt of not being there for his friend began to wreak his heart.

“I- Thomas, I don’t expect you to excuse me. I don’t excuse myself- nor do I expect you to. James did tell me to give you time and I only-” Alastair rambled, stopping to look up and face him. Thomas wondered what his expression conveyed, for Alastair’s face shut up, his form taking on the edge of formality. “It is growing dark,” he declared. “I must leave. It was pleasant seeing you, Lightwood.”

Thomas wasn’t sure what had prompted him thought his hands moved on their own. He held his hand out forth, as if meaning to shake. “Farewell,” he said stonily. Alastair nodded curtly and they parted ways.

Later that evening as night fell over London, Sophie called Thomas to the parlour. He had been looking for more information about Belial, jotting his observations in a notebook he liked to maintain once a moon. Watching Christopher record his observations had encouraged him to write his own thoughts and discoveries down. “These came for you, mi hijo,” his mother said, ruffling his hair with her tired hands when he entered.

Thomas crossed the room towards the contents on the table. On it was a small bouquet of white tulips and purple hyacinths. Inscribed on the small card that came with the flowers were Persian words. They were easy for Thomas to read: the dedication of the Rubaiyat.

White tulips and purple hyacinths denote seeking forgiveness.

Thank you so much for reading!

#thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #thomastair #thomas x alastair #i absolutely loved writing this #such raw such discomfort such distress #*chef's kiss*#the last hours #tlh #and you cannot tell me alastair would not give flowers to thomas #mine*

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queer-cosette · 4 years ago

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Miraculous OC: How Carlotta Sugrue-Dupain has developed since I last posted about her

I was inspired by @gale-of-the-nomads‘s post about his character Arséne Manachot! Only this ended up a lot longer than his post because I am Wordy.

Description:

As Carlotta: Carlotta got the Dupain height; she’s 5′11 with waist-length dark brown wavy hair with shorter curls around her face that is always very well-kept. She has very naturally tanned brown skin and is covered in freckles from head to toe. She’s curvy and has toned calves and biceps; she’s an excellent swimmer and got her scuba-diving certificate as soon as she could. Her eyes are dark brown with blue flecks, giving them a violet appearance in certain lighting. She’s covered in small scars from various old injuries and treats them like a badge of honour; her favourites are the one on her right cheek and the one on the left side of her chest from her collarbone to the bottom of her ribcage. She's very near sighted; she suffered CRAOs (Central Retinal Artery Occlusion) in both eyes as a small child and has spent some periods of her life (months at a time) mostly blind in both eyes. She only bothers wearing glasses in class though. She dresses almost exclusively in crop tops, knee-length cargo shorts, and converse. She always wears stripy knee socks. She has piercings in her right eyebrow, the left side of her nose, her tongue, and her belly button, and often wears sparkly earrings.

As Cachalotte: Her hair is up in a high ponytail with a white ribbon that sticks up like a whale spout. She has a single purple highlight, and her ponytail is tied near the bottom so the end splits like a whale tail. She wears a black leotard with attached gloves, silver fishnet tights, and black thigh-high boots with purple soles. On top she wears a grey sleeveless zippered vest with a long coattail that ends in a whale tail; it has purple lining and the bodice is decorated with two thin white stripes. She also has small purple shoulder pads styled to look like Sperm Whale fins and doubling as extra armour. Her Miraculous is a silver S-shaped hairslide made to look like a whale’s blowhole, and is decorated with five violet gems that turn black when not transformed. Her mask extends down over her cheeks to hide her scar; it’s grey with a black stripe across the top and black eyelids.

Personality:

Carlotta is deeply caring about those important to her; she would throw herself in harm’s way to protect her loved ones without a second thought. She doesn’t tend towards thinking things through; she is wild and impulsive and stubborn, and only thinks about the immediate future rather than any consequences. In spite of her caring nature she can be extremely selfish on occasion.

She gets along well with most people; she’s good at making stories funnier than they actually were (even if they’re disgusting) and has a very infectious laugh. Despite coming from a fairly wealthy family (they have a yacht) she’s grown to dislike ostentatious shows of wealth, and her only real personal splurges are a nice skateboard (she loves skating) and her beloved purple electric violin.

Speaking of, she loves music! She plays violin well and is a pretty good singer. She loves Spanish pop music especially. She’ll often sing with her little sister Génevieve, and harmonise with her. Génevieve’s the really good singer though; the whole family expects to see her in an opera some day.

Siblings! She has three younger ones: Génevieve and Juan-Miguel Jr (twins four years younger than her), and Victoire, who is thirteen years younger than Carlotta and nine years younger than the twins. Besides singing with Génevieve, Carlotta dotes on Victoire and shares a sense of humour with Juan-Miguel (the family joker), but like all sibling relationships her friendship with the twins is either ‘I’ll help you hide the body’ or ‘don’t even breathe at me’. Being older, with the twins being each others’ natural playmate, Carlotta’s closest family friendship is with her paternal cousin Marinette, who is only three months younger than her. Since Carlotta moved from Asturias, Spain to Paris, they hang out pretty often and Carlotta is quickly integrated into the class group.

Carlotta’s fatal flaw is her single-mindedness; when she’s set her mind to something she’ll go through hell to get it with no regard to her personal safety or often the feelings of others. Marinette, Tom, Sabine, and Carlotta’s own parents (Juan-Miguel Sugrue and Vivienne Dupain) are the exceptions to Carlotta’s disregard; she’ll stop if they tell her to. Recently, there are two more people Carlotta has started listening to - Luka Couffaine and the whale Kwami Klikk.

As Cachalotte, she started out as a bit of a Dark Knight: a protector in shadow, who tries to work behind the scenes to reach justice - unfortunately, she was oblivious to City Justice and Law Justice, and more concerned with settling personal scores. Then after a few incidents involving some classmates, Marinette clocked onto her identity and told her to cut out her bullshit or she would personally hand the Whale Miraculous back to the Guardians. Since then, Cachalotte has aided Ladybug and Chat Noir when she thinks they need it, and approaches battles with her normal singlemindedness that becomes utter focus on the situation at hand.

The Guardians have yet to try and retrieve the Whale Miraculous; they believe it to be lost forever at sea. The truth is, a thousand years ago the previous wielder drowned, and the Miraculous became lodged in a living Sperm Whale’s tooth. The Miraculous unintentionally caused the whale wild longevity until it became dislodged a few months ago, and the whale beached in England. Carlotta’s father, as one of the leading cetologists involved in the unbelievable discovery of the thousand-year-old whale, sent it to María as a gift, not realising what it was.

Powers and Abilities:

As Carlotta:

Carlotta is fairly powerfully built for a girl; while she’s no professional weightlifter she can hold her own in a fight against even a faster or more agile opponent. Being a sibling has taught her to wait for the moment to strike to deliver the most powerful blow. She’s also sharp-minded and good with noticing and remembering details in stories, personalities, and habits (actual visual details, not so much). She’s deeply informed on cetology, top of the class at general biology, and pretty good at motion physics. In fact, there are few school subjects besides chemistry that Carlotta doesn’t excel at. When it comes to sports, she’s an amazing swimmer, beyond average at strength sports, above average at gymnastics, and a fast runner. (But she falls apart at sports that require good aim or precision such as basketball or fencing.) She’s also a very good skateboarder, although not great at tricks beyond ollies and going down stairs. With decent lighting and reasonably large text, she’s a fast reader.

As Cachalotte:

Carlotta’s strength, flexibility, agility and speed are upgraded, like all Miraculous wielders. Her style of fighting is similar to her civilian style - fists, kicks, and waiting for the right moment to strike. She rarely uses her weapon to aid her in a fight except to get where she wants to go; originally the Whale Miraculous came with a harpoon gun, but since Cachalotte has no need for one (and also, given her love of whales, rather dislikes the thought of using it) it upgraded into a grappling gun á la Kim Possible. It matches her costume, with a fin-styled purple handle, a grey gun with zig-zagging white stripes, and a silver grappling hook that, like Ladybug’s yoyo and Queen Bee’s spinning top, has an infinitely long and unbreakable string. She prefers to dodge an attack rather than deflect it.

Special Ability: “CODA!”

Echolocation. To use, the user must think of what they wish to find in the fight - the weak point, the area their opponent will be next, their opponent’s power source - even the best path for the user to use themselves. In use, the user’s eyes glow purple and they see the thing they want to find highlighted in purple light, invisible to anyone else. The glow only appears for ten seconds maximum, and at its weakest (if the user is badly injured or as an adult after multiple uses) only three seconds.

Whale Add-Ons:

Qualities unique to the Whale Miraculous include mega-upgraded pain tolerance, resistance to air/water/magic pressure, and super-long-range hearing, only beaten out by the Rabbit Miraculous.

Klikk

Carlotta’s beloved Sperm Whale-themed Kwami companion. She is the Kwami of Lost Things. Klikk is rather mischievous, and can tend to encourage some of Carlotta’s more reckless behaviour (like, um, the time Cachalotte ran headfirst at a brick wall to see if she could leave a human-shaped hole like in a cartoon) (spoiler alert: she couldn’t and broke her nose) (which made Carlotta very glad she did it as Cachalotte and not as Carlotta like originally planned) but ultimately gives pretty good advice when María needs it. Transforms at the words “Klikk, Flukes Up!” and detransforms with “Klikk, Flukes Down!”. Klikk likes to hide in Carlotta’s hair, and despite loving physical contact, Carlotta refuses to let people touch her hair for Klikk’s safety. Klikk enjoys Blue Planet, cuddles, and deep-fried calamari.

#long post #coco writes #carlotta sugrue-dupain #original character #original miraculous #whale miraculous au #whale miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanworks

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colehasapen · 4 years ago

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(ONE SHOT) ner aliit STAR WARS

(belated) Whumptober no.29 - I Think I Need A Doctor

Comfortember no.8 - Lashing Out

Jango had never imagined getting his sister back. He had thought, for over a decade, that his ori’vod was dead, that she had died all those years ago with their buire when Kyr’tsad had burned their family’s farm. He had spent years with Arla’s name at the top of his Remembrances, unknowing that she was alive and that Kyr’tsad had her in their grasp. He had left his ori’vod to be tortured and twisted until she was a chained pet to be released whenever Vizsla wanted someone dead.

Vizsla had probably taken some sort of sick enjoyment out of sending his own sister after him, most likely looking to get the Darksaber back but was not willing to face Jango or his Foundling in combat himself. So he had sent Jango’s own family to kill them and bring the dha’kad to him instead of doing anything himself, and Arla had tried. They had been docked and resupplying, and she must have snuck on board while they had been busy - likely the blood she shared with Jango had let her slip past the security.

Manda, Jango had nearly killed her. He hadn’t known it at the time, all he had seen was a Kyr’tsad ramikad pinning Ben and ready to slit his throat, and Jango had thrown himself forward to defend his son. It had been Ben - Ben who had never let go of the morals he had been raised with, despite declaring his quest for cin vhetin upon earning his beskar’gam and passing his verd’goten - who had stopped Jango from killing his attacker. It was Ben, the boy who refused to kill unless absolutely necessary, even with all the evils in the Galaxy and everything he had been through, who had pulled Jango off of the limp Kyr’tsadii and removed the woman’s helmet.

Jango had nearly lost what little remained of his cool in that moment, stiffening in shock and horror. Arla was almost identical to their mother, though Jango could see himself in her jaw and nose and the shape of her eyes, and her colouring had been their father’s. He remembers that, as a teenager, Arla had idolized their retired ori’ramikad mother, and had wanted to be just like her, to the point she had dyed her brown hair blonde and spent an hour every morning straightening her curls. When he had been eight he had found it annoying to be locked out of the bathroom while his di’kutla ori’vod did di’kutla things, but after the farm had burned, he had guarded even the most annoying memories of his family jealousy. Now though, there’s not a hint of blonde in Arla’s thick curls, and where her skin had once been golden-brown, it was now pale and ashen and covered in scars from torture and cruelty that he had gotten a peek of while Shmi had been tending to her injuries.

Jango had been able to experience love and family after their Buire had been murdered, but Arla had only known pain and torment.

He had spent the last few days sitting beside his sister’s bacta tank, watching her float limply in the thick liquid and reacquainting himself with her face. It had made him painfully aware of the fact that he couldn’t remember her voice, that he could barely remember her. She’s in her thirties now, and she was so very different from the fourteen year old girl preparing for her verd’goten that he could remember. All the baby fat was gone from her face, and there’s a scar across the bridge of her nose that Jango couldn’t remember being there - so many thick, ropey scars stretched across any part of her body that he could see. He hadn’t seen her since he was eight - he’s twenty-three now, and he likes to think that he looks like his father, but finding Arla has made him painfully aware of the fact that he can barely remember them anymore.

What kind of ad and vod is he that he can’t remember his familys’ faces? Would Arla hate him for moving on, for finding a new aliit while she had been tortured?

Arla had been pulled out of bacta just that morning, and it had been painful for Jango to cuff his sister to the medical cot, but he didn’t really have much of a choice. He has two non-combatants on the ship, and a son that Arla had already once tried to kill. As much as Jango hates it, his sister is a prisoner and an assassin, and he has no idea what Death Watch had done to her over the years, or what kind of state her mind is in.

Even so, knowing all of that didn’t mean it hadn’t torn something in him when his sister had immediately tried to throw herself at him, intent to harm, the moment she had opened her eyes. Arla had snarled, twisting against the restraints, teeth bared in fury, and a firm Shmi had ordered Jango out of the room as she’d given his sister a sedative. So Jango had left, trusting Shmi to look after herself and Arla.

“Traitor!” Arla had screamed at him, and the words had struck deep.

He finds himself feeling lost, staring at the wall, and wondering what he could possibly do to fix this. He hadn’t thought his hatred of Kyr’tsad could grow any hotter and yet here he is, with a sister he had believed dead for most of his life, twisted and broken and turned into an assassin for the very people who had murdered their Buire and who he hated more than anything, even the Jetiise. Kyr’tsad had taken everything from him; his parents, his Buir, his aliit, his sister, his honour. He could reach out to the others; he knows that there are Haat’ade still out there, people who had followed Jaster, who had followed Jango, and people who would come the moment he called. Roz had given him a list of contacts of Mando’ade who were still loyal to the Mand’alor. There were people with the right sort of training who could help him help Arla. He hadn’t considered calling them before - he’s unworthy of their loyalty, but for his aliit , he’d be willing to do anything.

Jango lets out a heavy breath, turning on his heel to march towards his room - Jaster’s old room - in search of the comm codes, thoughts dark. His people didn’t deserve Jango dragging them back into his problems, but Arla also doesn’t deserve what happened to her and needs help. He doesn’t trust a hospital to protect her from Kyr’tsad should they come for her, but he does trust the True Mandalorians.

The disgraced Mand’alor pauses in front of his door, tightening his hand around his buy’ce and tapping his fingers against the visor. He sighs slowly, closing his eyes and muttering a quick prayer to the Manda for courage and to the Ka’ra for luck, before gathering himself and typing in the code to the door and stepping into his room. He strides over to the storage chest at the base of his bunk, opening it to rifle through the belongings until he finds the datapad Roz had handed him back when he and Ben had first gone to her for work after escaping the spice freighter.

He staring at one name on the list, an open expression of pain on his face - there’s so few of them, compared to what they had once been, and that’s on him. Mij Gilamar - he remembers the man. Or more accurately he remembers his riduur; Tani Gilamar had been on Galidraan, she had been one of his ramikade. Mij had been a dedicated baar’ur, and while he had married a Mando’ad, he had never worn beskar’gam, preferring to heal rather than fight, but Jango had seen him spar with Tani enough to know that he could.

Mij would be his best choice to help Arla, but would he want to do anything for Jango after he had gotten his riduur killed.

He looks up when the door hisses open, letting Ben peer into his room. His son cut an impressive figure in Jango’s old beskar’gam, the one that he wore after passing his own verdgotten but painted dark red and white, and his buy’ce tucked under his arm - he looks like a true Mando’ad, and Jango wonders if this is what Jaster felt every time he saw him in his armour. He watches Jango with worried eyes.

“Are you alright, Buir?” The teenager asks, stepping into Jango’s room and letting the door slide shut behind him. “Shmi told me our guest woke up.” Blue eyes study him intently, and Jango’s shoulders slump at the reminder, Arla’s words rattling in his head. “I can sense that you’re upset.” Ben lowers himself to his knees next to him with the unnatural grace of a Jedi, head tilting. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jango huffs out a laugh, “You do know I’m supposed to be the buir, right, Ben’ika?”

His ad ’s eyes sparkle, and Jango can already feel the weight of his past easing with the boy’s small smile. “So you are.” Ben says cheerfully, “I’m afraid I hadn’t noticed.”

“Brat.” Jango murmurs fondly, flicking the fourteen year old across the forehead. Still, Ben had passed his verd’goten and was considered an adult by Old Mandalorian law, even if he is still young and inexperienced and still needed guidance. Jas’buir had allowed Jango to lead his own squad at fourteen, and Mandalorians knew better than anyone that ade were just as competent as those who were fully grown. He sighs again, “Arla needs special care right now.” Jango tells Ben, who listens attentively. “Things we can’t get her without help.”

Ben’s head tilts again, eyes narrowing thoughtfully, “Like a mind healer?”

Jango taps Mij’s name on the list, “Baar’ur Gilamar is a doctor, and a very good one. All Mandalorian doctors are trained in mirjahaal for wounded verde.”

“One cannot heal physically if they don’t also heal spiritually.” Ben states knowingly, and Jango ruffles his hair.

“Learn that from your fancy Core Temple, did you, ad’ika?”

Ben grins crookedly, “We were all expected to attend minor healing classes.” He shrugs, “I wasn’t very good at it.” Then his blue eyes grow sharp in the way that makes Jango feel like the boy was looking into his soul. “Arla will be fine, Buir.” Ben states, “We’ll help her; she’s aliit.”

Aliit, it’s a nice thought.

#cole writes #whumptober 2020 #comfortember 2020 #fanfiction #star wars #jango fett #obi-wan kenobi #arla fett #shmi skywalker #mandobi-verse

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kryptsune · 5 years ago

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Fellswap {FXS, CXP} (UPDATED: 4/1/2020)

🌼It is an interesting story with Fellswap because I had no ideas for it only for it to turn out into one of my favorites and most extensive. I added the divider because this one is seriously one of the craziest and most fleshed out AUs besides WTU of course. This one has a lot to it so feel free to ask any questions you may have! Enjoy! If you enjoy it spread it around so I can gauge the interest! 💙

Alternate “Nicknames” Info:

Sans: Crimson- Also goes by The Crimson Lord or Bloody Lord. Crimson the harsh ruler of the lands of Tundra and known to be a loyal “dog” to the Queen. His eyes used to be an icy blue but now they are primarily red. If you manage to pull that old him out then his eyes may turn blue again. It astounds him when Frisk causes him to enter this state. A dog without a leash rather. He is frigid towards real affection/emotion unless he has the goal to manipulate you. The only exception would be that of his brother. His pride and ego are legendary and rarely ever takes no for an answer. He is nicknamed the bloody lord for a reason as he has a vampiric nature. His love of the finer things in life leaves him very possessive and greedy as well. His kingdom, being the closest to the Capital, is the most lavish. He is not easily amused, however, if you are able to amuse him he will most likely keep you alive until your amusement wears out. He is also the younger of the two brothers.

Papyrus: Grimm- Crimson’s older brother though even with his stature most think the opposite. He could be classified as the wild one. His eyes are usually a golden/yellow color looking more like pupils then the typical skeleton blank sockets. When he is more in his feral mode those sockets will turn black with that blazing yellow pupil. His eyes in this state resemble that of a wolf. He will be more docile unless it comes to the hunt. That is really when he is in predator mode. Grimm is also incredibly needy and does not care about the state of his captees which he usually brings to his brother. He is submissive to Crimson but that does not mean he will tolerate being treated like a dog. He is still the older brother after all. He is a flirt just to get what he wants and he loves it when others fight back. Unlike his brother, Grimm could care less about all the finery all he cares about is the pleasure, fun, and thrill. Grimm is curious by nature so if you draw his attention you may survive long enough to get on his good side. He also has a well known sweet tooth though his brother tries to discourage him from the habit. The running joke is that he had to have his canine teeth replaced with gold because the sugar rotted the true teeth. That, of course, is nothing but a lie.

Chara: Fuji- Fuji is the twin sister of Frisk and the two could not be further opposites. She is mild-mannered and easily spooked. Her kind heart is often betrayed but she continues to struggle onward despite that. Her physical appearance forces her to cover her left eye due to horrific damage. Under those ebony bangs, she has a scar that is the opposite of Grimms. It is one of the reasons she first draws his interest (that and chocolate). Grimm eventually calls her his Chara-mell apple which is a reference to her name as well as how sweet her personality is. Unlike her sister, Fuji is relatively weak which is why Grimm becomes her protector. She is his little dove.

Frisk: Frisk is known as the “bad” girl type. She picks fights that she knows she can win and likes to get into trouble. She is rather brash but if she sees a fight she knows she cannot win then she will not take that on. The monsters are one such factor of this. She adores her siblings and will do anything to keep her safe even if that means self-sacrifice. She is sassy and overconfident which makes her a perfect match for Crimson. Eventually, he refers to her as his little huntress as she takes just as much joy harming humans as the monsters do. They hurt her sister and therefore they must pay with blood. Her standoffish attitude is also a huge bonus for Crimson as he gets to learn more about her and break down those walls. They both do that for each other. She enjoys Crimson’s darker side rather than his gentle side. Aside from that only she and his closest family ever see.

Undyne: Undyne is the Royal scientist and resides in her lab in Windyspires. A place that revolves around aviation. Undyne has a fascination for any kind of flying machines and is more an engineer than a scientist. In order to keep up with the hunt and help her Lord, Alphys, she creates a series of drone-like devices that monitor the “air” of the entire Underworld. It also doubles as a camera for those monsters not participating but watching the hunt take place. She has a very steampunk vibe to her work and likes to wear a pair of aviator goggles at all times. Her favorite type of anime is mech like Gundam or Voltron. She will occasionally wear her lab coat but she prefers her more casual attire. Unlike the rest of the monsters, Undyne does not directly participate in the hunts but rather helps Alphys instead. She has sworn off genetic or soul experimentation but no one knows the true reason why.

Alphys: The Lord of Windyspires Alphys is the ultimate warrior type. She will do anything to win a battle which includes a little extra help from her scientist (eventually Lady) Undyne. She is the centurion of the Guard and usually participates fully in the hunts. Her desire for revenge and victory is something that drives her forward and takes extra delight in adrenaline that comes with the hunts. Just like Crimson, she is a formidable foe and usually brags that she will one day rule his kingdom which means their egos butt heads frequently. Alphys loves the spectacle even crafting an arena on the border of Magmire and Windy spires dedicated to combat. The weak cannot be a part of the Guard. She much prefers hand to hand combat and will rarely resort to any type of projectile attacks. She was the youngest sibling of 5 brothers and beat up frequently by her brothers which only made her stronger. She vowed never to be weak again though that mindset has made her into the bully she so sought justice for earlier in life. She likes to binge anime with Undyne when it is all Shonen. {probably a masochist… definitely a sadist}

Muffet: Muffet works side by side with her husband and Lord Grillby. Their kingdom is that of Magmire. They are known for their industrial prowess creating weapons and armor for the elite of the Underworld. She takes great pride in her side job which happens to be the only confectionary in the entire kingdom making hard candies and gummies. She is known to indulge in Grimm's sweet tooth habit as well. She appears kind on the outside but she is truly manipulative especially to those that are unfortunate enough to be caught in her web. Her original concept was that of Hansel and Gretel with her being the “witch”. She dresses in bright inviting colors which is a huge contrast to the rest of the monsters. Muffet also has the ability to spin sugar into horrifying amalgamations when she harvests the souls of captured humans. Human/ monster no more these creatures will do as she commands even sometimes devouring their targets. Just add a pinch of monster dust, a little bit of candy, and some soul.

Grillby: Grillby is the Lord of Magmire. Unlike most of the Lords in his position, he does not sit on his throne but rather helps and works with his wife in the confectionary. He finds it relaxing though he does still have to attend to. Grillby is more laid back than most almost the opposite of someone who is sugar high. He is calm and collected which makes him a suitable warrior though he has placed those days behind him. His hobby is to work on new blacksmithing techniques even if his kingdom claims that is below him. His throne room is covered in metal work such as blades and armor only adding to the stigma of the industrial kingdom. He is not one for killing as he feels that there is no honor in such an act. He will send his captees back to the Capital or to whoever is willing to pay. He does not agree with his wife's tactics however he knows that he can not change that mindset and doesn’t press for it.

Toriel: Known as the Ice Queen possibly due to her frozen kingdom or her attitude toward any and all life. Unlike the original UT Toriel, The ice Queen no longer can use fire magic as her soul has frozen over. She has ice abilities and magic in its place. There are rumors that she can cause one's heart and soul to become numb just being in her presence. She is what one would consider a despot as she does not care for much. Her grief causes her to lash out at others and is called by the lesser monsters, the Mad Queen. She is unaware that her son is still living and refuses to speak to her husband. Even the mention of his name can send her into a spiral of rage.

Asgore: The former King of the Underworld Asgore was banished to The Ruins after Toriel’s maddened rage. He is kind and gentle though he knows his own limits. He is not a pushover. His time in the Ruins has shown him how insane his wife has become and with the help of his son they take care of the humans fortunate enough to make it to them. He does his best but even he has moments that force is required as much as he hates the violence. He is still a king through and through ruling over his own “kingdom” as the caretaker.

Asriel: The former Prince of the Underworld and son of Asgore and Toriel. Asriel was presumed dead but survived only to escape to The Ruins. His father comes upon him later and they work to help the humans that have been forced to suffer under the tyranny of the Queen. Asriel is mild-mannered and very polite. Even without his station he still acts like a kind Prince. He will stand up for what is right regardless of his own possible sacrifice. When he meets Fuji he sees a lot of himself and he takes on the big brother role for her. In conclusion (Precious Goat boy).

Main Plot Synop:

The Surface:

The surface has been overrun by corrupt leaders. It is very much the concept of big brother. They are a council that presides over the affairs of the world. If you are seen as a threat you will be immediately thrown into “prison” without a trial. They hold occasional public trials in the guise of being fair. Just as WTU claims, the very concept of magic is a threat to them so those that have it are quickly disposed of but leaders don’t always do the dirty work themselves. No. In fact, they use another source by means of execution…the monsters.

More accurately it is very similar to the idea of throwing your enemies into a kind of gladiatorial arena. It is not technically considered an execution if circumstances lead to death. The humans are not stupid they know what is going on. Some believe in rebellion against the state and some wonder if the monsters could fix their corrupt world. Either way, the corruption continues and they are not above tossing innocents into “the pit” if it suits their agenda.

“The Pit” (aka the Underworld/Underground):

The underworld is broken up into different factions by location. The only location without a faction or any type of ruler is The Ruins, because of its size and its isolation this is where humans try to reach for some form of Salvation. Asgore, the caretaker, has made it into an encampment for those that have fallen (the innocent ones). It is almost like a refugee camp. Unfortunately very few make it to Asgore’s safe haven. He does his best. Poor goat dad. He is not like canon Toriel however as he will use violence if necessary as he knows that humans are simply using them as tools to get rid of who they deem criminal. There are signs of old campfires, broken tents, and habitation. Before The Ruins is, of course, the main factions. “Snowdin” is the beginning and Crimson is one of the most powerful in the Underworld.

LOCATION SWAPS {INFO in order}:

New Home= The Capital

Snowdin= Magmire

Waterfall= Windyspires

Hotland= Tundra

The Underworld is backward to its original layout. The humans end up trapped in The Capital instead and they have to make their way to The Ruins to escape. So it would go like this: The Capital -> Tundra ->Windyspires ->Magmire. The closer the faction to the capital the higher the rank in other words because both Grimm and Crimson live in Tundra. Crim is the lord making him one of the most notorious. He is known for being a loyal “dog” to his queen. Whether that be out of loyalty or self-preservation is unclear.

Each faction has a lord or lady that rules over it. The ones loyal to Toriel’s (As a side note she is known as the ice queen) regime and their supposed way of life. This also means the closest ones receive the most benefits. Tundra is the one with the most prestige and of course other monsters are trying to strip that title from its current holder, The Crimson Lord. Due to Crimson’s loyalty, he is almost exempt from any wrongdoing in the Queens’ eyes which means he can do pretty much anything he wants. Which is dangerous and I will explain why in a bit.

I have a faction ruler list sitting here so I am going to add that to this as well. They are as follows, of course, this does not account for potential power struggles during the story:

The Capital -> QUEEN: Toriel Dreemurr

Tundra -> Lord: Crimson

Lady: N/A

Windyspires -> Lord? (I mean she wouldn’t want to be called a lady SHE IS TOO TOUGH FOR THAT!): Alphys

Lady: Undyne

Magmire->Lord: Grillby

Lady: Muffet

“It’s Hunt or be Hunted”:

The motto of this verse. After so many centuries of humans being disposed of by monsters, they become aggressive. In addition, the anger toward all of humanity begins to fuel violence in the monsters. The hunts deter monster on monster violence. It also adds fuel to Queen Toriel’s fire that one of the humans that fell down the first time killed her son. This, of course, is a lie as Asriel seeks refuge with his father in The Ruins. He helps as much as he can watch his mother lose her mind from afar. It saddens him but he refuses to be a part of this new world order. That is when they realized that humans weren’t just falling into the Underworld. They were throwing the worst of the worst. Their undesirables, criminals, and anyone that dare went against their own agenda.

At first, they just captured them and held them in the Capitals network of catacombs but then some began to escape causing damage across their “New Home”. Toriel wouldn’t allow it. A proposal turns it into a game of cat and mouse. The humans are detained and released and then the monsters hunt them down. It used to be about protection but now it’s become a sick twisted death game. The forests of Tundra are littered with traps and deadly pitfalls along with the rest of the locations.

A Human's Fate:

Not all the humans that are being thrown into the pit are criminals. The monsters of higher rank occasionally take humans they deem worthy to be servants or slaves. It depends on the monster or the rank but at least those humans are still alive. The hunt is an unspoken death sentence. One monster, in particular, seems to have an interest in bending humans to his will and that is Crimson. The conditions vary widely as some treat their humans well and others poorly. Crimson is known to go through humans quickly due to his bloodthirsty nature. It’s not a common occurrence. In fact, the Queen frowns in distaste over the very notion. The only ones that are spared of any of these fates are the children. Toriel is even more disgusted by humans sentencing their young to die. She takes care of the children that have fallen. In total, she has taken care of 5 children in total.

The Brothers Grimm:

Grimm is the wilder of the two brothers and is very much a predator type. His name is derived from the mythos of the Grimm or Black dog. I wanted to keep that dark omen symbology in both his name and design. He slinks around in the shadows so that the black dog aspect is not far off. He also loves watching from trees. He enjoys the catching and hunting aspect of his job and even plays around with his “toys” when he finds them. He will specifically call anyone “chew toy” in a mocking kind of way. That does not mean though that he will not spare you if he catches you. He is naturally curious by things. He also has a little skele tail too. Unlike his brother, Grimm doesn’t really have an ego he just finds his job fun. He is like a giant untamed wolf. Grimm has a love of sweets as well.

He admires his brother but he is not bound to his brother. In other words, this is not a master, dog dynamic. He is, however, the more accepting of the two. If he is asked to do something he doesn’t approve of then he most likely won’t. Also just because he has the whole puppy thing going on doesn’t mean he isn’t smart and cunning. Again he likes to play around with those he finds sometimes not even dragging them back to his brother for a while. If you are a threat he will kill you but if you’re not you can probably get on his good side. If he thinks you are cute he will probably flirt with you too. He is not beyond that. He plays the part of the dog quite well.

Crimson is more sophisticated. He doesn’t go out on “hunts” himself often as he has a faction to rule over but those brought to him will see first hand that he is an insufferable flirt. He is prideful, egotistical, and commanding. He also has a bad habit of keeping mementos from those he deems worthy (what those are… you don’t want to know). He is stern with his brother and seems very outwardly cold to most unless he is playing up his charm. He is not someone you want to make angry as Toriel considers him to also be the Bloody Lord. His weapon of choice is a scythe. His drinks of choice are red wine and champagne specifically the pink kind. Crimson’s incisor teeth also have that vampire point to them. They are longer than the rest of them. There is far more to Crimson than just a ruthless skeleton lord.

The Ultimate Unlikely Hunters:

This backstory will involve Grimm and Crimson’s unusual infliction and conditions. They were both experiments under Gasters research team in the beginning. Having been weak monsters as children unable to gain any LV they had to think of a way to survive. They did not seem to possess the ability to wield magic. Tired, injured, and without hope, Papyrus carried his baby brother all the way to Windyspires banging weakly on the metal plated doors. The Royal scientist at the time, Dr. W.D. Gaster, took the boys in. Unlike Darrius FS Gaster cares about the two brothers. He gives them a choice if they want to become stronger as their souls are not capable of it on their own. Grimm takes the offer hoping it will save his baby brother offering to be the first test subject.

At the time Unyne was nothing but a teenage prodigy lab tech watching the events of soul manipulation take place. At first, the process works. Pap is able to conjure new bone-like attacks with magic and all seems to be well. The results cause Gaster to start the experiment on Sans next. By this time complications have already begun to show signs. Pap seems to be more short-tempered and aggressive even with little things. His mood swings cause him to lock himself up being monitored day by day.

Sans has never seen his gentle brother this aggressive before forcing himself to look away as they have to strap him down for a follow-up experiment. He tries to help his brother the best he can and takes on the older brother role due to Pap’s inability to think clearly. Even he is starting to change. The longer this situation continues the more Sans becomes numb to the feeling. That is until one day Pap’s condition takes a turn for the worse causing him to lash out, bones shifting and elongating. He drops to the ground in agony transforming into a skeletal beast like wolf tearing the entire lab apart.

Sans, on the other hand, continues to take care of his brother but he too is feeling some strange side effects to the soul manipulation. It turns out that each monster’s ancestry buried deep within their soul draws upon a primal power. Not all monsters were about love and compassion in the beginning. Bringing this primal trait to the surface causes adverse physical and biological changes within the two. Sans is more gradual as he starts to be in immense pain. His soul struggles to keep itself together but even he snaps lunging at a lab tech. He zeros in on their soul pulling it from their chest and sinking his teeth into it, draining it of its life force. The pain is suddenly gone. He realizes that he needs souls essence and power to keep that hunger/thirst at bay. It gives him extraordinary abilities. He remembers a long time ago reading about a monster that humans had such a fear of, the vampire.

As he comes into power he realizes that humans concentrated soul traits are even better than monster souls. The blood has a high concentration of soul essence which sustains humans as well as monsters (yes the monsters bleed in this). His brother learns to control this new beast within himself but not before he nearly claws his brother's socket out, hence the signature scar. Crimson has scars on his entire body from trying to reason with his once feral brother. They slowly work their way up to eventually ruling the second most powerful kingdom in the entire Underworld with exception to The Capitol. The constant hunts keep both the brother's conditions satisfied. No one is quite sure how the two skeleton brothers became this way after Gaster’s disappearance, all except Undyne.

The Story:

There are two siblings that fall into this world both twins. One is Frisk and the other is Chara. Since this is a swap, Frisk is more aggressive of the two and highly protective of her sister. She tends to be classified as the “bad girl” type. Chara is the sweet and kind one that will abstain from any violence at all. Frisk is not the usual Chara swap because I want them to find their place amongst the world. She has no problem using violence as a means of protection and self-defense but she won’t actively look for a fight if she thinks she can’t win. The monsters are one such variable in the unwinnable category.

Sadly they have magic within their souls hence the soul traits. They both also have the same soul outwardly, Determination, however, there is one other trait that is housed within their soul that makes them very different. Frisk’s is perseverance and Chara’s is kindness. As usual, the leaders of the Ebott Empire are threatened by their potential for magical abilities and as such are sentenced to be executed. Thus they become part of the hunt.

Frisk is the first to be captured by none other than Crimson and Chara is found by Grimm. It is strange that Crimson is not his usual self in their circumstances as he can tell, unlike so many others that they have captured in the past, that they are very different. Grimm can’t bring himself to harm Chara due to her innocence and Crimson enjoys Frisks headstrong and sassy attitude. In other words *slaps hands on table* you get a two for one. One Papyrus X Chara and one Frisk X Sans. Both the twins are of adult age.

Eventually much to Crimson’s reluctance they decide to help them escape as unlike most of the AU the monsters have no problem staying this way. Not all of them agree but the Lords certainly love their titles and don’t want to give up that power…that is until Frisk mentions that all those horrible corrupted humans on the surface could be like one giant hunt. In which case Crimson is all for. Grimm has his own motivations enraged that the humans did something so terrible to Chara but he would not sacrifice everything to get to the surface because of that vendetta.

They make it to Asgore who has all the souls as the Barrier is in The Ruins. He tries to get them to stay instead of sacrificing one of them for their freedom. It’s obvious that the brothers actually don’t want either of them to die.

As Crimson says: “What is another century or two? We have all the time in the world.”

Frisk and Chara become integrated into the Underworld and though Grimm continues his hunting he doesn’t want Chara to witness it. Crimson just has Frisk as his little huntress. It is unclear if they will make it out of the Underworld in this AU. It really depends upon how I feel the story would make the most sense and I think having the two sisters happy and accepted into their lives is all they really wanted. They were considered “monsters” on the surface so why return there? Frisk wants to watch it burn… of course… for putting her precious sister through all this.

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK WITHOUT MY PERMISSION IT IS NOT FOR YOUR USE. IF YOU LIKE MY WORK PLEASE REBLOG INSTEAD! It helps me so much! It makes such a difference.💙

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archergwenwrites · 5 years ago

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ZM - Feb 9 - Partners in Crime

Or, The One With(Out) A Supervillain Part 0.5

A/N: This is a prequel/set-up to my fic “The One With(Out) A Supervillain,” a superhero love-square I’m going to get around to one of these days. So Zuko and Katara are not the Partners In Crime in this one, but later in the full fic they will be. Zuko does still have a partner in shenanigans, though...

The terms are clear, laid out after the lawyers his father retains and the brave ones Uncle scraped up from somewhere return from the room off the judge’s office. Zuko can exist unmolested in any area not currently claimed by the Sozin syndicate. Should the borders move, his father will be responsible for the financial burden of Zuko moving within a reasonable timeframe as determined by local tenant laws. Should Zuko come to harm at syndicate hands while outside their turf or due to the border moving before he could, Ozai will be responsible for making his son whole in the eyes of the law.

Even at thirteen with bandages wrapped around half his face, he had not missed the smirk on his father’s face.

The law can’t un-scar burnt flesh.

Uncle had ensured Zuko finished school – homeschooled of course – and convinced him to go off to college for a time.

Now he was back, in the city that had spat him out. No hard feelings though. Uncle had offered him a small condo in his building, knowing Ozai would not dare to set off the brother who’d stepped aside to mourn a son, not when Iroh’s contacts and history with the syndicate ran deeper and old men still murmured over whiskey how it was a shame Azulon’s brightest boy was forced out by grief and an ambitious brother.

No amount of profit can erase the thought that grass might be greener elsewhere.

Zuko pushed open the café door. He recognized the man behind the counter, one of his fellow classmates from university, a fellow engineering student with a knack for improvisation he wanted to ask advice of before he built a prototype. The court-ordered restitution had – under Uncle’s watchful eye – grown to be enough for all the parts he might need.

“Sokka!” he called, lifting a hand. The Water Tribesman turned, smiled to see him, and lifted a hand in a reply greeting.

Anything he might have said was cut off, however, by a different mass of brown and blue inserting herself right in front of him. She wielded a tray of drinks like it could be deadly in her capable hands and glared at him with the same eyes he’d made laugh in Sokka’s face.

“Ah, um, hi. You must be Katara. Sokka’s told me a lot-”

She shifted the tray – glasses and bowls clinking – and on instinct he froze. “What are you doing here?”

“I… um-”

Sokka, a knight in coffee shop aprons, threw one arm around Zuko’s shoulder and one arm around Katara’s free one – skillfully avoiding the dish tray. “Well, what an occasion! My little sister and my college buddy – meeting at last! Katara, this is Lee. Lee, Katara.”

Katara’s head whipped to look at her brother. “This is Lee? You didn’t tell me he was-”

She broke off with a long glance at him. Zuko could not for the life of him decipher that look. It seemed too wanting to be negative, but it also seemed like she wanted to tear him to shreds. After a second or perhaps a minute, Katara rolled her shoulders back and looked him dead in the eye.

“I’m glad to meet one of my brother’s friends, no matter who they or their family are.” She paused. “Welcome to our café. Do try the white lotus tea.”

With that, she whisked the tray silently away.

Sokka turned to him, voice low so as not to carry far in the café as it returned to a casual murmur, “Seriously dude, what are you doing on this side of town?”

“Am I really only allowed in basically three city blocks?”

“No, but,” Sokka sighed. “Katara has not processed her grief at all. She still kinda blames all firebenders.”

“It’s been how many years?”

“Each in their own time, buddy. Not all of us have the budget for excellent, too-secure-for-the-mob-to-hurt therapists because our daddy shoved our face full of fire.”

Zuko just gave his best friend a dry glare. “So do you want to hear about why I came in, or do you want to keep psychoanalyzing everyone’s trauma?”

“If I wasn’t a tinkerer, I’d be an amazing therapist and you know it,” Sokka retorted, moving towards a table.

“I thought you were a barista.”

“You wound me!”

Zuko tossed his backpack on a chair, pulling out a bunch of rolled papers. “You like it, you wierdo.”

“What Suki and I get up to is none of your business.”

Sokka was rewarded with about roughly a dozen quick thwaps in rapid succession with the paper tubes on his head and shoulders. “Gross, gross, gross. We will never discuss this again.”

Katara wiped the counter without taking her eyes off the boys at their table. She was so mad at her brother for concealing both that his college buddy was Zuko motherhecking Sozin, and that he was hot. She was also mad at herself, because Sokka hadn’t concealed how wonderful and broken his friend was – shy and determined to help people, a disappeared mom, abusive dad, cuddly uncle who was his only family and anchor – she’d wanted to scoop him up into their family and protect him, without somehow putting together Sokka’s stories with all the news articles, and also without realizing what that would do the concentration of hooligans around her.

She poured the dirty water into the appropriate bucket and turned back to face them. Hands on her hips, she gave her best impression of Gran-Gran as she cleared her throat at the boys dueling with Zuko’s paper as their fencing foils, who had half the other patrons concerned for their personal space and the other half smiling.

Sokka, well-attuned to such a cough from living with Gran-Gran, lowered his “sword” and turned to look at her. This meant that Zuko - who had no similar instincts apparently – thrust his “sword” right into the center of Sokka’s back. The paper crumpled instantly, Sokka jumped about half a foot in the air, and Zuko reacted in horror, trying to flatten the paper back out. “Shit, shit, I needed that one!”

She couldn’t help herself. She laughed, more than she had in weeks since she started her newest evening project. “Maybe you should take this to the break room, Sokka?”

Her brother looked up from trying to de-crease some sort of blueprint. “Genius. You’re the best, Katara.” He grabbed Zuko’s backpack, and led the other boy in the charge back behind the counter. She tried to smile warmly at both him and Zuko as they rushed past.

One of the concerned patrons, a petite Earth Kingdom woman, came to the counter for another pot of tea and also ask, “Was that, did your brother just run off with a Sozin?”

Katara tilted her head to the side, a perfect picture of confusion. “What would we be doing inviting a Sozin into our café?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. You’re right. You just seemed so confrontational at first.”

“Well, have you ever learned your brother has cute friends he hasn’t introduced you to?” Katara asked, pouring the hot water into a clean tea pot, the bending to stop even a single drop from spilling the one bit of bending she allowed herself in public.

“He is cute, isn’t he? Your brother, too.”

Katara chuckled. “Half price on the tea if you promise never to tell him?”

“Isn’t it already half off for being a refill?”

“You see the genius of my plan, then.” The customer chuckled and paid, leaving Katara to breathe a discreet sigh of relief. Honestly, she was keeping too many secrets these days, even if for good reasons.

Moonrise could not come soon enough.

#zutara #fanfiction #zuko x katara #zutaramonth2020 #the one without a supervillain

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chronicparagon · 4 years ago

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Free Verse

I decided to move this to its own post to keep verses better organized and make Harmony’s information versatile.

The profile for Harmony’s Free verse is below.

NAME: Harmony Halcyon NICKNAMES: Harm, Har, Harmy, Ha-chan, Har-chan, Mato Ciqana (by her family, which means Little Bear).

Her nickname in her family changes to Mato when she inherits her grandfather’s Lakota name in honor of graduating from high school. AGE: Varies by verse between 18 years to 26 years. Default age is 19-20. POSITION: Default verse is a university student majoring in nursing and member of the swim club. Becomes a certified midwife nurse later on. RESIDENCE: Grew up on the Black Hawk Reservation in Montana, United States. Her current location depends on the verse. FAMILY: Destiny Halcyon (mother), Lucas Halcyon (father), Issac “Mato” Halcyon (grandfather, deceased). NOTE: Mato means bear or fiercely angry in the Lakota language. Harmony’s relatives are found here: LINK

ETHNICITY: Native American (enrolled member of the Lakota) Note: She’s half Lakota Sioux, a quarter Crow (the Crow Nation), and a quarter Euro-American (Irish and British). SEXUALITY: Pansexual

RESIDENCE: Grew up on the Black Hawk Reservation in Montana, United States. She moves to Yokota Air Force Base near Tokyo before relocating to Iwatobi when her father retired from the Air Force.

IMAGE COLOR: Turquoise MOTIF ANIMAL: Grizzly bear SWIMMING STYLE: Butterfly, breaststroke, freestyle (crawl)

Reference

Art made by Yohao88

Appearance: Her long hair is dark brown, sometimes mistaken as black with long bangs and gray eyes. Harmony stands about 5 foot 4 inches (162.5 cm) who is toned due to working out with a pear-shaped figure. Her weight fluctuates between 135-140 pounds (61.2- 63.5 kg).

Her style varies. Compared to many girls in Iwatobi, Harmony is deemed to be a bigger girl due to her figure and musculature. Harmony is a member of the Lakota tribe from her father’s side. It was a goodbye present from her grandfather before leaving Black Hawk.

Harmony has three piercings. One on each ear lobe and she has a piercing on her tongue. When she swims, the piercings are replaced with retainers.

She also has features indicating her motif. Harmony has sharper canines to resemble a grizzly bear’s teeth. Hidden beneath her clothing are ghastly scars over her body. Her upper back, right shoulder from childhood. Growing up, there’s a reason why she opts to wear long sleeves. By the time she turned eighteen, Harmony received a tattoo on her upper back of an eagle.

Note: Due to cultural norms, Harmony would conceal the tattoo in public in Japan. in other verses where she is located elsewhere, she would be more likely to reveal her tattoo and scars.

More information for it can be found here: Link

PERSONALITY: Generally, Harmony a shy girl who can get excited on occasion. This can be off-putting to other people, especially if she just met them. It makes her come off as socially awkward. Most of the time, she’s more reserved, often in the background. She fears that people won’t like her because of the color of her skin, her name, or the scars she hides. This makes her have little confidence in herself. It will take time for Harmony to warm up to someone. Once she does, she’s sweet, even affectionate. Her most noticeable traits are her kindness, being polite, and quiet nature. Much like a grizzly bear, she can be fierce, which may be a bit scary. It occurs when she witnesses injustice or when her friends are in trouble. This is a little bit of a contrast to what she was like living in Tokyo prior to moving to Iwatobi. She was more belligerent and had a habit of getting herself into trouble. This is explained more in detail to what brought this on in her full backstory, which is further down the profile. She’s stubborn, sometimes this can do more harm than good. Harmony means well, but even after living in Japan for several years, she still has much to learn and a lot to adjust to. Harmony is dedicated, sticking to her tasks to the end. The last thing she wants to do is let anyone down.

BASIC MEDICAL INFORMATION BLOOD TYPE O+ MENTAL DISORDERS: Depression, anxiety, insomnia MEDICAL PROBLEMS: Scars, family history of Type II diabetes, heart disease, and kidney disorders (tied to diabetes). More information can be found here: LINK

STATUSES CURRENT STATUS: Stamina: 4/5 Body: 4/5 Mental strength: 2/5 Water repellency: 3/5 Logic: 3/5 Courage: 4/5 EXPECTED STATUS: Stamina: 5/5 Body: 5/5 Mental strength: 5/5 Water repellency: 5/5 Logic: 5/5 Courage: 6/5

FULL BACKGROUND INFORMATION

Triggers: Fire, racism, xenophobia, death

Harmony Halcyon was born and raised in Montana. Her parents owned a small bison ranch, and she used to spend her days helping her parents and riding her horse to endless plains. She loved the mountains that stand in the distance and the sky was open, limitless. As a child, she spent time with her paternal grandfather. He often told her various stories from legends passed down between generations and humorous misadventures of himself and his sisters as children.

She had a Karelian bear dog named Sedona and a paint mare, Mojave. She used to take long horseback riding through the trails in the neighboring forest. Harmony was a happy child.

.Unfortunately, her life would dramatically change. Harmony was a child when her parents lost everything. It all started with fire. It grew and ravaged the wilderness, stretching far and wide. The Halcyons couldn’t save their home. The fire surrounded Harmony who was riding Mojave on their way home with Sedona in tow. The raging fire scared the horse, and the girl fell from Mojave’s back. She was trapped in the fire. A burning tree strikes her down, pinning her to the scorched ground. A desperate attempt to free herself burned her right hand and arm. Burning debris fell upon the girl.

She couldn’t escape.But she wasn’t alone. Sedona desperately dug at the pile of fallen branches and ash. The dog pulled Harmony out and to the edge of a lake away from the smoke. Sedona left her, only to return with a rescue team following her. If it wasn’t for her Sedona, Harmony wouldn’t have survived. Mojave’s return without Harmony warned her parents and they acted quickly, only to find that rescuers found their daughter and was transported for burn treatments. The burns would remain as scars on her skin. Harmony struggled when she became ill from infections, a result of the burns. In the end, Harmony would pull through. But the same could not be said for the stability her family had.

The wildfire took everything. The herd was killed by the flames and stifling fumes. Harmony’s home engulfed by flames. It almost claimed her life.All that was left was her family, Mojave, Sedona, and a few of their belongings.

.The Halcyons had nowhere to go and the hospital bill was high, Indian Health Service couldn’t help cover all the costs. Employment was difficult to come by in Black Hawk. No one in their small town would hire them, except two Air Force recruiters who met Harmony’s father, Lucas. He took a chance that day. He enlisted and soon found out he must go to Yokota Base near Tokyo, Japan. The family made sacrifices before leaving the United States. Harmony’s heart broke when her parents sold Mojave. They couldn’t take her with them. The little girl could only watch when a strange man drove away with Mojave in a trailer behind his truck. Harmony wouldn’t ever see her again.

Thankfully, the family kept Sedona, and the family relocated when Harmony was ten years old. They lived modestly, just like always while sending some money back to help Mato make ends meet. She struggled in a new country. New expectations, new people, new language. She was rebellious as a child, not adjusting well to the culture shock. Children made fun of her trying to speak in Japanese and her appearance. She was darker compared to the other children. The children often question whether “Indians” still scalp people or live in tipis like in the old movies. They teased with war cries and left her out in most of their activities.Fitting in society was just part of the problem. Harmony couldn’t stand the sense of claustrophobia with the city enclosing around her. She stayed in the large city, almost forgetting what the stars looked like and it’s as though the sky that she once loved is imprisoned by towering skyscrapers. She missed the mountains and valleys, and the sky that could go on for thousands of miles.

Yet, Harmony soon got used to it. Slowly adjusting to the life on the base and in an urban setting. The family learned to speak Japanese and blend in the best they could. Unfortunately, there would be another tragedy inflicted on Harmony when she turned thirteen. Her grandfather passed away, succumbing to his long battle for hsi health.

First her home, Mojave, and now her grandfather. Harmony felt isolated, hurt, and yet she couldn’t do anything. Kids made fun of her for not looking the same, her necklace, and although she became more fluent in Japanese, she still stuck out. She tried to make the most of it but wished things were different. Isolation has left her longing for friends, becoming withdrawn and unsure of herself. This led her to get into trouble for any sort of attention. This included getting into fights.After several years, Harmony’s father went into retirement from the Air Force.

Her parents grew to love Japan, but missed the quiet life in the country. They were also afraid of Harmony getting into trouble, such as joining gangs that were rampant in the city. They thought Iwatobi would be the perfect place and relocated there. Harmony’s mother, Destiny, received an education from Yokota and gets a job as an elementary school teacher in Iwatobi. Lucas got a job as a security guard at Samezuka Academy, and Harmony transferred to Iwatobi High School.

After moving from the city to the quiet town, Harmony must acclimate to another dramatic change of environment. This time, it was easier because Iwatobi is closer to nature, just the way she likes it. However, making friends isn’t easy, which led her to wonder if joining a club would help in achieving that goal. After searching for all the options, Harmony discovered the Iwatobi Swim Club. A chance to challenge herself, make a name for herself, and make friends.

#ooc #for Harmony's Free verse #the default bio will be a little different #working on that for my new promo

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cleganegirl · 6 years ago

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And So The Story Goes - Sandor Clegane/Reader

Hello! I absolutely LOVE your writings and I love Sandor Clegane so much! I'm so glad your blog is dedicated to him! Could I possibly request a writing where the reader is the eldest Stark sister, and she is in love with Sandor and they both admit their feelings for each other and consumate their love right before the Battle of Winterfell? Pretty please!!😁

Warning: Smutt and swearing....

The long night was drawing nearer, Winterfell your harm was up in arms, men and women preparing for another battle, saying bye to their loved ones, maybe for the last time, prepping the Castle for the oncoming attack, it was all bustle, yet, you stood at the top of the tower stairs, watching it all. Who would have thought you'd be back here. You younger brother Robb perished at the Red Wedding along with your mother, your fathers head was taken from his body at Kings Landing some months before your mothers' untimely death. Arya went missing for years, Rickon was murdered by Ramsey and Sansa, well, Sansa had seen horrors that no human should and yet she arose from those ashes, not a scared and timid rabbit as before but a burning and bright phoenix. You were the Eldest Stark daughter, you watched them over them all now they were back in Winterfell, even Jon whom your mother had detested, his heart was a Northman heart no matter where he was born. You watched as the Dragon Queen arrived with him, saw her beauty first hand but noticed the cruelty in her eyes, was she born with it or had she seen horrors too. Either way, your sympathy was with her. Her soldiers followed her through the gates, and with them a giant man upon a giant horse, you had recognised him immediately, the years hadn't been kind, he had more scars added to him and he seemed a little withered with age but he still made the air in your lungs escape, he still made the air seem incredibly dense, like you couldn't breathe no matter how hard you tried. Your hands would become clammy and no matter how confident you were you found yourself blushing like a child. Your memory of that day, of their arrival, was all that kept you going, the fact he was here, near you, somewhere made you feel safe but vulnerable at the same time. "Shouldn't you be down there with those clucking hens?" Sandor emerged from the shadows, he stood beside you, resting his hands on the fence in front of you both. "Clucking of hens," you repeated, "you assume I'll be wanting to help with their trivial tasks, I'm not one for cooking, sewing or whispering empty promises of safety." You turned to look at him, the side of his burnt face facing you as he carried on watching the people in the courtyard. "Aye, you were never good at that in Kings Landing little wolf, but you've grown since, grown very well." His head turned to look at you, his eyes trailing along the length of your body and back up to your face. "You've gotten older Dog but I'd still calm the war inside of you if you'd let me." Your voice was softer, you couldn't remain cold to him, no matter how hard you tried. "I thought that notion would have left your head a millennium ago, Little Wolf, this old dog can't learn new tricks now," he turned to leave, he wasn't used to maidens throwing themselves at him, and he couldn't process how to react without being a grumpy bastard. "Sandor!" Your voice cracked, your eyes watered with a distant memory of being left in Kings Landing by him many a year ago. "Don't leave, not tonight, don't leave me again!" He turned to look at you, his resolve dissolving at the pit of his stomach, the red-blooded male growing in his place, yet there was something else, something softer, something that wanted to push the strands of your hair behind your ears and whisper silly petty love songs into your ears. "Well, come here then little wolf," Sandor held his arms out for you. You took a run at him, a small jump at the end and he had carried you into the air, your legs locking around his hips as your lips crashed into his. His beard rubbed you raw and yet you didn't care, the swelling would ease all too quickly and tonight will be a distant memory, if you survived it that is. He carried you to your chambers, you didn't ask him how he knew where they were, it didn't seem to matter in the grand scheme of things, yet, here you were, lying on your fur throws, on your bed, your skirts pushed up against your hips as Sandor kissed your thighs gentle at first and then more vicious as he smelt the arousal from between them. "Sandor, I need to be honest, this... Is... My," you stopped, the embarrassment catching in your throat, Sandor looked up at you, over your skirts as he tried to figure out what you were saying. "My little wolf, you're a virgin? You haven't..." You nodded, "with another?" He added you nodded again, instead of carrying on with his mission between your legs he pushed himself up to face you. Inches away, his brown eyes searching yours, for a sign of some sort of practical joke, something to say that this was all at his expense, instead what he found was a teary look that told him all he needed to know, "You don't want me to be your first, I'm no lord or a Ser, I'm not even handsome, you get yourself dressed and find a pretty lad for a pretty lass." You shook your head, "That isn't what I'm after, Sandor, it's you and always has been, that's why I'm still intact, I waited, against all hope that I'd see you again so that I can say this to you." The air had gone dense again, there was nothing to inhale, you gulped, trying your best. It was tonight, tonight was your last chance, you'd never let him leave this room without knowing how you truly felt. "I love you, Sandor, and I always have." Your cheeks marooned with embarrassment as Sandor sighed, his cheeks mirroring your own red colour. "I love ya too, Little Wolf," and he wasted no more time, his lips claimed yours viciously. Teeth nipping at your lips, tongue dancing with your own in your mouth. His hand found the bunched up skirts again and dived in under them, he found your small clothes and pushed them to one side. His fingers all though they were thick and long were delicate and soft, his hands calloused and large knew exactly the amount of pressure to apply on to you. They rubbed small circles, left and then right, your back arched in pleasure, the electricity flowing through you made you jerk and your limbs to shake, his gently, he slipped one finger inside of you, your moistness slicked his digit enough to allow easy entry, he curled it towards the ceiling, finding a hidden spot you knew nothing of, he stroked it as he rubbed the outside with his thumb and soon you were moaning as the electricity still serged through your body. Quicker and quicker his fingers moved, deeper and deeper the current ran through your body, you watched his face, as his eyes never left yours, you came on his hand, moaning his name, not the brutal nickname he was given by a spiteful ruler but the name his mother blessed him with and the name that left your lips most nights whilst you were alone in this bed. He brought his hand up to his face, he licked and sucked his fingers clean, obscenely smacking his lips, "I didn't think anything other than wine could taste this fucking sweet, Little Wolf." He bent and kissed you hard, the taste of him and the taste of you mixed together, you were the sweet to the tang of the wine still soaked onto his lips. You sat up onto your knees, "undress me, Sandor, please." He didn't need to be told twice, his need to devour the sight of you naked was too much, with fumbling hands no longer nimble and quick as they were at your most intimate of places he struggled to untie the bindings of your dress. "Fuck, fucking fuck sake, you ladies and your fucking dresses." He panted, exasperated at the thought of not being up to untie your dress as quickly as he'd like, "fuck it!" He took a handful of fabric in both of his large hands and pulled hard, the dress fell apart in the most dramatic of sounding rips, beads flying across the room, it pooled around your waist, your breasts bounced free from the corset bussom. "Fuck me," Sandor whispered at the sight of your skin, his hands reached out immediately, cupping a breast in each one, allowing them to sit in the palm of his hands for a few moments before following the softness down to your puckered nipples, his finger and thumb caught the plump bulbs in his between them, twisting and pulling them gently, enough to peak your arousal again, your moans following moments later. His head bent down to claim them between his lips, tongue flicking out to lick at them, alternating with sucking at them, you brought your hand down on to his crotch, you palmed him through his breeches, the size of him worried you, he was thick and long, how could you fit that into you? He must have caught the worry in your eyes, he had started to undress himself as he spoke, "Don't worry Little Wolf, I won't hurt you, not tonight anyway." He winked at you cheekily, you took this opportunity to push your dress out of the way since he was now fully undressed it was only right you copied too. You crawled up to where he sat, you had wanted to try this since Theon Greyjoy had mentioned it, but you were uncertain Sandor would enjoy it. You dipped your head before he could reject the idea and took him into your mouth, slowly at first, getting used to his size, your tongue swirled across the head of his cock, his hands tangled in to your hair, "fuck, girl, where did you learn that!" You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue stroking the head as you got to the tip and then to swallow the length as best as you could again, Sandor was moaning almost consistently, it went from moaning to groaning and a few growls. His hands were still bunched into your hair, he pulled your head up and away quickly, "fuck, I'd have blown my load if you had of carried on, I don't want that to be our first together," he rolled you both over, him on top of you as his hands rubbed your nipples again. Sandor lay on top of you, your legs wrapped around his waist, he lay his forehead against yours, as he thrust slowly into you. You groaned, your back arched involuntarily, and Sandor stilled instinctively, "if I'm hurting you, I'll stop." You shook your head, "it doesn't hurt terribly, just fuck me like you this will be our last night." Sandor bottomed out entirely, pushing his full weight onto his hands that were at your side, using his knees to steady himself he picked up a good pace, his thrusts steady and even, his eyes not leaving yours the entire time. His name was on your lips more times than your own ever had been. You bucked back into him when his thrusts weren't fast enough, grinding yourself against his pubic bone, enough to cause friction, to give you more stimulation and add what you'd hope would be more pleasure to him. His thrusts became shorter, faster, harder, his head had dipped into the crook of your neck, he grunted with each thrust, his own orgasm close almost as close as yours. He pushed hard into you once more, and unravelled the knot that had tangled in the pit of your stomach, "Oh, Sandor! I love you! Sandor, Sandor, Sandor." You screamed his name as your orgasm claimed your body, his followed behind, with a series of grunts, "Y/N, fuck," there was no declaration of love from his lips but you didn't need it, he had said it once tonight. You both lay quietly, the furs pulled up over your bodies, his hands caressing your shoulders as you lay with your head on his chest, neither of you said a word to each other. The company was all you both needed, no words, no gestures, just this, this moment of two souls becoming one. There would be no sleep for you both tonight, you thought, the castle will sleep for you both and tomorrow you will sleep in the arms of Sandor when the war is over. However, the castle didn't sleep either as the howling of a Wolf and a Hound haunted the cold winters night air.

Tag list:

@forgottenpassword123 @sillywiseone @stickgremlin @peg379 @thatcutewerewolf @a-goodfella @thefeatherofhope @zoella-anzienta @dedrickskull @oceansofbluemilk@sister-beehive @madebyleftoversouls @interneet @oohmyahh @crawl-up-from-hell-blog@writingsofa-hobbit @kirscheblumen @comshepa @ghostlyradical–tupperware@superlameblog-url @slytherh0e @killedbymyowninvention @later-lettuce2@perfumelover @moonprismpower-420 @redantte@sharkec13 @realllllllllyyyyyyyyy@animekath @worst-shit-in-the-7-kingdoms@theizzardqueen @houndcrush @asmraf24@devilsbastion @fanfictionrecommendations-com@mynameisnoneya1991 @mihijah@llamaseverywherelove@thephenomenalkingofthebrogues394 @handsomeguyslover @awolfhasnoname @i-is-surrounded-by-idjits @misfitgardens @thevillainpie @royalydamned @idiedinzimmer483 @thatlittlered @shurakaramzin @crazynocturnalkiki @queenoffereldencousland @highlandhilda @apocalypse-haven @hellbycoelho @kseniabarsukova @doctorfruitbowl @anita-e-taylor @chrisftdorito @whimsicalsnai l @thatnerdyaquarius @carry-on-wayward-sun @apocalypse-haven @gameofcleganee @onyxskeleton29 @maxinikins @well-aint-that-strange @bckybrnesrp @lokimysunandstars

#sandor #clegane #sandor clegane #sandor clegane fanfiction #sandor x reader #sandor clegane x reader #the hound #the hound x reader #game of thrones #fanfiction #rory mccann

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wheremytwinwatches · 5 years ago

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[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 25

Last time: The last Goth was too shy to make an on-screen appearance, Fuhrer Bradley had a nice peaceful dinner with his family, and Roy and Ed competed for the title of “In The Worst Spot”. Onwards!

Ed’s wandering around some hellish landscape that’s giving me flashbacks to AoT (brrr), blaming “that idiot prince” for getting him stuck wherever this is. Ling does not appreciate the peasant calling “the future emperor of a nation” an idiot. Ed’s running forward to check on his friend teammate associate, but then comes to a halt. Right, they got trapped with a shapeshifter, didn’t they? Ok, Ling should be good, no one else could make reciting the hotel room service list a threat. As for Ed? A quick “little runt” test and Ling’s convinced as well. Now, how to get out of here? Episode 25 - “Doorway of Darkness” The two looking around, noting that everything in here is stuff that Gluttony has “eaten”, like the house they were keeping him in earlier, the Lieutenant’s car, and even all of Roy’s fire that is oh-so-conveniently providing light in this cavernous space now. Tardis space ftw! Ed has a brief moment of panic when he sees Al’s cutoff hand, calms down when they realize that he was outside the Eraser Gun. Well if he’s outside, is there any way to contact hi- [Ed, spazzing out and waving Al’s hand around]: “Ahhhhhhhh!!! Conveniently awaken, telepathic powers…! Elric brother telepathy!” [Ling]: “Yyyyeah, good luck with that.” After that failed “attempt”, they continue on, looking at all the different time periods of rubble in the Stomach. Still, Ed’s confident that they can find or make an exit. Even if the Well idea is a bust, and “running in a straight line to reach a wall” isn’t working… Oh hey May, how are you? Aw, sad that your panda was accidentally kidnapped by Al? Come on, don’t be sad (or put out the fire with your tears, please). Backstory time! First about the panda (disease while young kept her from growing, abandoned by her mother, taken in by May), then for May Chang herself; her clan’s one of the lowest of the fifty in the Xing Empire. [May]: “Maybe that’s why I was drawn to her. She looked so helpless and weak, I couldn't help but identify with her. But at the time, I guess I just took pity on her more than anything.” So after an initial bite, we get scenes of them growing up together, even sparring. Daw, sibling bonds. Something you and Ed can talk about, next time you meet up and aren’t dealing with a rebel fighter. Aw, Scar’s been lurking in the shadows while May waxes on about her adopted sister, probably making his own flashback connections. Sorry dude, you already had your history episode, it’s May’s turn now. Just let her talk about her motivations, how giving the Xing emperor immortality is the last hope for her clan (like Ling, dammit why can’t both clans be saved?)... nope, Scar’s fed up with being out of the spotlight and tells the other two to get moving. Or not? Daw, are you really gonna help her find the panda? Yoki proves he has at least a few brain cells, noting that as one of the last Ishvalan survivors Scar “knows a thing or two about loss.” Back in the Stomach, Ed and Ling are still trudging along, Ed’s so desperate that he’s promising to let the freeloading prince get anything he wants from room service once they’re out. But even that’s not enough to keep Ling going, he collapses and tells Ed to keep going. The Fullmetal Alchemist rants and raves that he’s not letting someone as weak as Ling drag him down, he’s off to find the exit. Yup, totally leaving. Seriously leaving him to die. Not messing around…. Yeah, no points for guessing that when the “threats” weren’t enough Ed just picked the prince up and lugged him along, ranting about how they both have too many people waiting for them outside. But then he collapses too, and both are left gasping for breath on some rubble and so hungry that they made Boot Soup. After their “filling meal”, Ling apologizes for getting Ed trapped, but the Alchemist just blows it off as not even being as bad as what Teacher put him and Al through. Optimism? Nah, just sheer stubbornness. And fear of Al’s metal fists if he actually gives up. Hey, there’s the third prisoner of the Stomach! Ed immediately begs to be shown the exit, Ling can’t even start properly arguing about asking the enemy for help when Envy bluntly states that “there is no exit”. Yikes, it’s so tough not even a Goth can get out? Hmmm, so this is a semi-Portal of Truth. Not like the real one that Ed and Al went through way back when, but a failed experiment by Father to make his own Portal. Hmm, showing a limitation of the Goth’s creator then. The point is, these three are stuck in a place in between Reality and Truth. As for what they can do? [Envy]: “All we can do is wait here to die.” Midshow pictures of May Chang, Shao May the panda, and Envy. Ed is not very happy to hear this, accusing Envy of lying as the Goth just sits there and grimaces. Still furious, Ed demands to know who their Father is, when Envy scoffs that Bradley is just another Goth. He’s piecing everything together now; the Fifth Laboratory, human sacrifices to make Stones, Homunculi, Ishval… Envy laughs at that one, says it was an “enjoyable job”. Whoa, seriously? Envy was the one who pulled the trigger? … kick his ass, Ed. Guh, we get the slow building “Shit Is Going Down” music with an image spot of a little red-eyed Ishvalan girl getting shot point blank by Soldier!Envy. Did not need to see that. So Envy is the source. The Big Bad is still Father for creating the Goths, but Envy? The one laughing at how he framed a moderate officer to plunge the nation into civil war? [Ed]: “So you’re responsible… You were the one who shot and killed that poor innocent child. You destroyed my hometown, you drove out the Ishvalans. You’re the one who turned Scar into a murderer. And it was you… You’re the reason Winry’s parents were killed! You’re the one to blame!” Ed punches Envy! But… Envy didn’t budge? Uh oh. Ominous chanting has started as Envy morphs to give them a “parting gift” before they die. Ling notes that when they fought Envy had been oddly heavy for someone nearly as small as Ed. [Ling]: “He might be a bit bigger than he looks.” Um. Oh dear. Envy is very, very big now. And 3D, no less. Boss fight! Back outside, Al’s sitting in a forest clearing with a little bird on his shoulder and Shao May at his side.

Gluttony’s still there, stumbling around and asking Al what he should do. Right, he ate someone he was Not Supposed To Eat.

[Al]: “I have no idea.” Ooh! Gluttony’s worrying that Father’s going to be real mad at him, Al pounces on the mention of the Goth’s creator… and asks for Gluttony to take him to Father. Gluttony goes “ok, he’ll want to see you since you’re one of the human sacrifices we’re supposed to Not Harm”. Answers, finally! Back at Central the higher-ups are sitting around a table, frankly talking about Sacrifice Candidacy. Even General Raven (come on dude, how could you betray Mustang like that?). As for Candidate Mustang, he’s in the Fuhrer’s office now for a “nice long talk”. Leto damn it. Roy of course asks the obvious question first, why Bradley’s bothering to let Roy live when he knows so much. Bradley says that Roy wouldn’t learn his lesson if he’s dead. Like Hughes… [Bradley]: “Why must everyone make such a fuss over the death of a single soldier?” Oh, what the flip. Bradley was trembling in anger at Hughes’ “screeching child”?! Dude, you suck as a parent. But the Fuhrer brushes off the idea that Selim is a weak point for him. Roy, on the other hand… By the car, Riza’s waiting when Fuery runs up to report that he’s being assigned to the Southern Command Center. And Breda’s being sent west, Falman to the North… and two guys in black coats come up to reassign First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye to Central Command Center. [Riza]: “As personal assistant to Fuhrer Bradley.” So that’s it. Riza is stuck under the watch of Wrath now. Oh yeah, there was that whole “Ed and Ling are stuck in a hellish in-between realm facing down Titan!Envy” thing going on, we should get back to that. The two are getting their butts kicked, when they get a moment Ed’s able to transmute a (tacky) sword for Ling and get his own arm into Blade Mode. They’re beat up, but they have to fight! Meanwhile, the music’s building as Al follows Gluttony, shocked to see that they are heading towards… oh for Leto’s sake, Father is based in Central itself?! ...WHAT. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT’S WHERE IT STOPS?

#wmtw #where my twin watches #full metal alchemist #full metal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #fmab 25 #ranubis

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angstalottle · 6 years ago

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The Next Generation

Part 2:

To say everyone was shocked would be the understatement of the century. They stared at Lance who was curling up in a defensive position under their gaze, he was clearly uncomfortable and judging from how thin he was in no position to fight back if anyone were to try anything. Hunk seemed to snap out of it first as he slowly kneeled down in front of Lance, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. “Ok, ok, it's a little hard for us to believe that your Thor's son but we still want to help you. My names Hunk.” Shiro let out a silent sigh of relief. He honestly had no idea what to do, for all they knew this was just a traumatised teenager claiming he was related to a superhero as a way to handle the ordeal he has clearly been through… but if it was true then God knows what they supposed to do then. Most of the team had grown up around Thor. He was the giant lovable uncle that gave you piggyback rides and snuck you desert when you were grounded. The thought of him having a missing child and not stopping everything to try and find him was just out of character for him, especially when they saw how he acted towards his daughter. She was the world to him and would have stopped at nothing to keep her safe… that was true for all of the Avengers and their children. If Lance was Thor's son then there was an even greater mystery to be solved beyond his identity. “You can't be very comfortable down there.” Hunk smiled softly offering out his hand “how about we get you out of here and sort this whole mess out?” Lance looked at Hunks hands like he was searching for a trick. Then slowly, painfully slowly he took the offered hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He was steady for less than a second before he began to fall again. Everyone moved to grab him But once again Keith got there first and caught him in a half dip with one hand rested on his lower back. “Thanks…” Lance mumbled not making eye contact, then again neither was Keith who had turned an interesting shade of red as he held Lance. “D-don't mention it.” “Achem” The two looked over to the source of the noise to see Pidge standing there with her hands on her hips “ I hate to break whatever the hell this is up, but we’re still in enemy territory with a civilian in need of medical attention. So how about you leave your flirting till we get back on the jet, huh Keith?” It seemed impossible a moment ago for Keith to blush any darker, but now he was a deep red opening and closing his mouth like a surprised fish. Hunk chuckled while Shiro tried to hide his own amusement behind his hand, but an amused grin was still visible none the less. “S-shut up! I'm just trying to help” Keith squeaked. “Yeah, we know buddy” Hunk replied in a teasing tone as he easily scooped lance up into his arms. Considering his earlier panic it was surprising to see how he relaxed into Hunks arms, his head rested against his shoulder letting out a long tired sigh. “Don't worry. We’ll get you home.” Hunk whispered earning him a small nod as Lance’s eyes slid shut and he fell asleep.

They all walked in silence after that. Too many thoughts and questions to even begin to discuss, after all, where could they start? It wasn't until Lance was lying in the medical cot of the jet did anyone break the silence. “We should call ahead… see if anyone can get ahold of Thor I'm sure he could… answer some of our questions.” Shiro was choosing his words carefully. The last thing they needed was for Lance to hear the wrong thing and start panicking again, just because it seemed like he trusted them didn't mean they should take that as a fact. Right now he was like an unknown animal, he could be friendly and gentle for all they knew, but the same could be said for if he would pose a threat to them. As the leader, Shiro had to keep his team safe no matter what, even if that did mean potentially putting their mission in danger. “I’ll call dad, he keeps tabs on all the Avengers when they're not on the compound.” Pidge shrugged as she set up the autopilot and began the call. “Wait, for all the Avengers? Even mom?” Keith asked raising his eyebrow. “How the hell is he managing that?” Pidge smirked up at him “We Starks have out ways.” “That we do kid” Tony replied as his holoform took up the windshield “what do I owe the honour, it's rare for you to call unless someone's on death's door and considering everyone's standing in gonna assume you just missed your dear old dad.” Pidge stuck out her tongue “you wish old man. I actually called because erm Shiro has something to tell you.” Shiro shot her a glare. Sure he may be the leader but it didn't mean he always wanted to be the one to drop the news bombs. Last time he did that he had to tell his dad that Hydra was still out there… it wasn't a pleasant experience. “Shiro?” Tony asked raising an eyebrow his demeanour suddenly serious. Everyone knew that when Shiro had something to say no matter who you are you should listen. Shiro licked his lips, his throat suddenly dry “did… did Thor ever mention to you having a son?” Confusion flickered across Tony’s face “no I don't think so. What's this about?” We found a kid, about 17 I think, in a cryo-pod.” Shiro pretended not to see the way Tony flinched “he's not a soldier but he did claim to be Thor's son.” Tony nodded slowly “right… well, I’ll contact Thor you kids just get back here as soon as possible. I don't know who you have with you but something tells me Thor isn't going to keep quiet about a missing kid.” Shiro nodded “right, see you soon.” With that, the transmission was shut off. No witty comment or sarcastic joke, not this time. This situation was just too far beyond funny for any of that. “ETA twenty minutes,” Pidge said softly as she turned her attention back to the console mindlessly fiddle and keep her hands busy. “Someone should probably check on Lance” Hunk muttered as he chewed on his lip nervously. Shiro was about to ask Hunk to do it since he had a way with people when Keith up and left. No word from him, he just got up and went into the medical area. “Wow, he has it bad” Pidge snorted. “I feel like we should warn Lance that Keith doesn't do normal human emotions” Hunk sniggered. “Nah, I wanna see how this plays out. It going to be hilarious no matter what.”

Keith paced nervously in front of Lance’s bed for a good ten minutes. The other boy was still asleep so there really wasn't any reason to be hovering like the way he was but… well dammit, he was pretty and Keith didn't really know what to do with all the gay thoughts that filled his head. It sure didn't help that Lance was only wearing tight pants and a low cut shirt letting Keith’s eyes train down his neck almost to his stomach. Of course, he would catch himself now and again and shake his head and whispering “don't be a creep” but it seemed like his eyes didn't want to obey and just stared at the peaceful face of the beautiful boy. Not even the excessive scars could pull his attention away for too long. They really were awful and it made bile rise in Keith’s throat to think what could have caused them… or more likely who and why. Lance mumbled in his sleep and turning his face away from Keith, almost like he knew he was being watched and made an unconscious decision to put a stop to it. Keith caught sight of another scar, this one at the back of his neck that appeared to almost be a brand mark. It looked like a weird dog head holding a ring in his mouth. Compared to the other scars it looked old. Really old. Like Lance must have been a child when it was done to him old. Keith gently brushed a finger across the mark before he could stop himself. “We’re here,” Shiro said as he pulled back the curtain that separates the two of them from everyone else. Keith froze staring around to room “Not. One. Word.” He hissed as he stepped away from Lance and allowed Shiro to set up the bed to be wheeled out. “Wouldn't dream of it.” he chuckled as he took the lead towards the exit. Unsurprisingly the Avengers were waiting for them, including Thor and his daughter Allura. “Thor I'm glad you're here we need you to tell us if you know Lance.” No sooner had the words left his mouth did Allura run forwards towards the bed. She pulled Lance roughly into the air and held him by the throat. “Allura! What are you doing?!” Shiro yelled taking a step forwards only for Steve to hold up a hand to stop him. “Tell them what you told us, Thor.” “That boy is not what he seems, he is a lier and a shapeshifter just like his father.” Thor normally seems so kind-hearted but right now there was nothing but cold pain in his eyes. “F-father please” Lance gasped out clawing at Allura’s hand “Sister, I swear I'm not the monster you think I am.” Allura didn't answer him instead she looked away to avoid his tear-filled gaze. “He was left on my doorstep as a babe, I cared for him as my son unknowing the true creature I brought into my home and family. When I discovered the truth I marked him as the monster he was and locked him away.” Keith’s eyes darted to the brand on the back of Lance’s neck. Did Thor really do that? “What could he be that justifies treating a kid like this?!” Shiro yelled grabbing Steve’s arm and pushing it away. “The child before you is not human nor is he truly Asgardian. He is Fenrir the one is destined to bring about the end of all.” Thor answered coldly. “He is the son of Loki.”

#langst #klance #avengers au #keith #lance #shiro #pidge #hunk #tony stark #iron man #captain america #Thor #Loki

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