#the great sage sentry
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If Mario was in... Miitopia
When a villain named Dark Lord, Bastion (who oddly looks like a knock off version of smg0) steals the faces of everyone in the mushroom kingdom and kidnaps Melony, Mario must go on a journey to rescue the faces of everyone in the kingdom and rescue our watermelon cinnamon roll goddess
only problem is that the darklord has sealed his meme avatar powers and jumping abilities with anti-meme energy so now he has to use a completely different set of powers than he's used to, at least the weird voice who he's come to call Tony in the sky is being super nice and helpful to him, a cool new horsey named Hot Sawce and the assisstance of a Great Sage that goes by the name, Sentry
The party:
Mario, an air headed Chef
SMG4, a laid-back mage
Luigi, a Cautious cleric
Meggy, an energetic warrior
Saiko, a cool popstar
Tari, a kind scientist
Bob, a cool thief
SMG3, a stubborn princess
Kaizo, a cool imp
Swag, a stubborn tank
Boopkins, a kind flower
Chris, a cautious elf
Melony, an energetic vampire
Karen, a cautious cat
#miitopia#if mario was in... miitopia#the glitchy gang#smg0#smg4#smg3#smg4 mario#smg4 luigi#smg4 meggy#smg4 bob#smg4 saiko#smg4 tari#smg4 kaizo#smg4 melony#smg4 karen#smg4 swag#smg4 chris#smg4 fishy boopkins#smg4 oc#smg4 gaurdian cool hand#smg4 charlie#smg4 bastion#smg4 hot sawce the horse#smg4 great sage sentry#the great sage sentry#smg4 berry
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Arcane Pt2 - Eris Vanserra x Unnamed OC
Eris’s best kept secret is infiltrated.
No use of y/n
WC: 1326
Warnings: Angst, Violence
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4
The forest is charred. Their wards are broken, and the glamours have fallen. The cottage is in shambles. Once a beautiful home for them both, smoke now drifts upward from the rubble. Trampled are the flowers and vegetable garden she’d tended to dearly for so many years. The smell makes him sick to his stomach, and he falls to his knees. There’s nothing left.
His chest heaves, his hands gripping and pulling at his short red hair. Tears begin to fall from his face as reality sets in and the sobs begin. It’d happened so quickly. In his quarters of the Forest House one moment, standing above his beheaded brothers the next. Beron will be after him; he knows. He’ll send the hounds and guards before he himself comes to smite him down. He has minutes, if that. He’d killed his brothers. He’d have killed his father, too, if he didn’t know better. But while Eris was strong, Beron was stronger.
Her body... her body lay ahead of him in the destruction of their home. What will Beron do to her, even in death, he wonders? He won’t find out. He will not let Beron desecrate her further. She deserves dignity in her death, and he will give it to her. His love. His grace. His empathy and compassion. His brilliance. His mate. He failed her. How didn’t he know? Why didn’t he feel the intrusion on the ward? Why didn’t he feel her through the bond? Why didn’t she call for him? Why leave her side of the bond closed to him, even near death? Why shield him from his failure, from her pain and fear?
Rising from the scorched earth, he takes an unsteady step forward. His right foot lands on a shard of stained glass that once belonged to the beautiful front door. She’d been so proud to have found it. A great discovery: a decrepit old wooden door with a stained glass window. His chest tightens again. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t here. With uneven steps, he walks through the rubble. The sitting room was once such a beautiful space. They’d spent so many hours and so many years together in that room. Once lively shades of green and orange are now a burnt charcoal gray. The kitchen was the same. Only the innermost walls of the home still stand as he makes his way down the hall.
He needs to find her. He dreads finding her. He tries again to tug on that string, that bright orange thread, tying them together. Nothing. He feels nothing. Minutes, he reminds himself. He has minutes until the sentries come. Before Beron comes with vengeance.
Their bedroom lay just a few steps ahead. The door was broken, leaning sideways on it’s hinges. The smell is stronger here. Putrid death mixes with the remaining scent of his life. Only faint hints of jasmine and sage rise above the remnants of an angry, relentless flame. The scent of his brother was a bitter aftertaste. He marches on.
Their bed was left unmade. The lxurious golden sham is now a horrid black. Down pillows burned to a crisp. Intricate woodwork smolders, and her scent is stronger here, but he still can’t see her. He passes their bed and her vanity. Flower pots and dirt litter the floor, and the burgundy rug he found on a trip to Adriatta is torn into shreds. She’d put up a fight. Good girl. His chest heaves, vomit rises in his throat, and he shakes his head, steadying himself again. He needs to get her out and take her somewhere Beron cannot find her. Where he cannot do her more harm. Where she can rest.
He finds her in the closet. She’s curled inward on herself, her beautiful dress bloody and torn. Her back is still, and the familiar rise and fall of her breath are nonexistent. She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone. He’s shaking again, tears burning his cheeks. Unsteady hands reach toward her burned body. The skin of her back was blistered and damaged beyond repair. There’s so much blood. From her face to her chest, her arms, and her legs. She’s covered in cuts and burns. His sobs become stronger and louder as he reaches for her. She’s not breathing.
“My love.” He brokenly whispers, begs, and pleads with her as he pulls her destroyed body into his arms. He turns her face toward him. Unmarred by the fire of his brother. Her eyes remain closed, the stillness of her chest breaking his soul into pieces. He rests his cheek on hers, his tears making their home on her skin.
“My love, please. Please wake up.” He chokes back a sob, running his hand along her arm and along her spine in an effort to wake her, but he knows. He knows she’s gone.
“Please. Come back to me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He’ll die here, he decides. How could he take his place as High Lord without her by his side? Let Beron strike him down. Let his father's fire end his life as he holds his mate in his arms. He’d die with her. He leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to her cold lips, and he closes his eyes. Let him die here.
Two hundred years. Two hundred years of safety. Serenity. Peace. Over. All over. His heavy sobs shake his shoulders and shake the still body in his arms, and as he holds her tighter, he still runs his hands over her arm and back. His hand finally rests on her wrist, checking for a pulse he knows he won’t find.
“I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.” He repeats until the words run together in an incomprehensible mumble, his fingers digging too tightly into her wrist, hoping to feel something he knows he will not. He wasn’t here. He didn’t protect her. For two hundred years, he’d kept her safe. It wasn’t enough. He had failed her.
His breath stalls in his throat, eyes widening in shock. Denial floods through him as he tugs again at the bond that remains silent, but he felt it. It was so faint, so faint, but it was there. Her pulse.
“My love, my love, please.” He straightens, pulling her tighter to his chest and forcing her face toward his once again. Her beautiful eyes remain closed, but he feels it again. It's so faint, but it’s there. She lives.
His demeanor shifts, his mask falling into place as he assesses the situation anew. She’s mortally wounded. She will not live, not unless she receives help he cannot give her. Cannot provide for her. Not with Beron’s sentries so close behind him. Minutes, he reminds himself. He has but a few minutes with her before they come for him. Before Beron comes from her. Seconds, he amends, another faint pulse coming through much later than the last.
He’s on the border of three courts. He has two options. He can beg for sanctuary in the Summer court. Tarquin is known to be just and kind. But Beron will follow. Beron will follow him across Prythian. Tarquin would not be able to provide the safety or care she requires. Nor Kalias in the Winter Court, who would likely attempt to freeze Eris on sight.
There is only one true option, he realizes. The Night Court sees Eris as the ruthless, conniving killer he made sure he was known as, but his mate was not like him. Not like the mask he wore. The mask he perfected over two hundred years to protect her. Tensions between Eris and the court were harsh on both sides, but it may be the only place Beron will not follow.
It’s the only option, he knows. And as another weak pulse graces his fingertips and the rustle of leaves alerts him to the first sentry sent for him, he knows what he must do.
#eris acotar#eris masterlist#eris fanfic#eris vanserra#eris x reader#acotar fandom#acotar series#acotar#fanfic#series#my fic#eris fic rec#fic rec#eris angst#angst#sad eris
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Chains Chapter Three
Read on AO3
Summary:
Lucien steals Feyre away from the safety of the Night Court as she and Rhys train in the Illyrian Steppes. Winnowing her to the Spring Court and Tamlin, Feyre must contend with the consequences of leaving while held against her will.
An ACOMAF Chapter 47 divergence.
Chapter Three: Your Sharp and Glorious Thorn
Feyre faces her fate alone, locked in a bedroom in the Spring Court.
Love to @witch-and-her-witcher and @foundress0fnothing for reading this chapter twice 😅 Sometimes I am needy.
Thank you all for the comments and great response to this story! I think you might love this chapter. I hope you do. The pressure is real...
Read the beginning of Chapter Three under the cut:
From the corner of the room, I watched the soft colors of dusk deepen into night between the snarled branches of a rose bush.
My bedroom in Spring had been destroyed. Furniture shattered to splinters, the carpet torn by clawed hands, the wide door to the balcony ripped free.
Two sentries had led me here from the dining room. Eyes averted, hands respectful but firm on my shoulders, urging me forward. Did they remember me, I wondered? What did they think of the former lady of the house now reduced to a prisoner?
Or perhaps I was wrong, perhaps my treatment was nothing unusual in Spring, in Prythian…the thought made me feel even more alone, my well of anger chained within me like my hands.
I had stopped in the doorway, my ragged mind taking a moment to catch up, to take in the evidence of violence, so strong I felt it like a mark on my skin.
The window no longer had a view of the hedged gardens, but was replaced with the dark and twining black branches of a rose tree - its flowers blood red, the largest branches as thick as my wrist. Growing so close only pinpricks of light came through, dappling over the room.
“Not here.”
I jumped at the voice behind me. Hadn’t even heard him approach - had been relying too much on my fae powers once again.
Tamlin’s broad shoulders were hunched. He looked…exhausted. But he didn’t look at me as he tilted his head, motioning for me to follow.
Probably for the best. He would find no sympathy from me. I hoped he did feel wretched and regretful. Hope it haunted him all night and kept him from sleep.
I wondered for a moment if I had ever made his life easier, better. Did he sometimes remember the regret he had in tearing down my cabin door and bringing me to his court?
The sentries lingered as the High Lord opened the bedroom down the hall. A clean room, a mirror to the old one, gold and sage and plush white. As if the room beside me wasn’t the perfect portrait of the blood-stained brutality that was soaked deep in the soil, that fed the grass and hedges.
But one thing was the same. The window, any light was nearly blotted out by the thick rose bushes growing outside. It was a wonder I didn’t see it from the outside, when I first arrived, this sharp monstrosity taking over the grounds.
Tamlin paused, swallowing as if the words were stuck in his throat. “Everything will be alright,” he said finally before closing the door.
I didn’t know if he was talking to me or himself.
With the snick of the heavy door locked shut, suddenly it was so, so quiet.
Something staggering was building inside me - not my familiar magic but something…devastating. Hot and cold battling in surges on my skin, inside me, panic choked like a strangled scream.
Before it could burst, I ran to the windows and threw them open, my shaking hands struggling with the latches. My fingers pulled and scraped at the cage of bark and thorns. But even when I managed to snap off a small branch, it bled milky white and acidic onto my fingers, a new twig of bark already growing to take its place.
When my hand slipped and a thorn the size of my thumb impaled into my palm, I collapsed into the corner into a gentle shadow. My hand gushed blood for far too long. I forgot that with my fae healing gone, even small hurts could overtake a body. I squeezed it until the worst of it stopped, still dripping onto the pristine white carpet beside me.
I didn’t know how long I was there, collapsed in the dark.
The blue chains around my ankles and wrists seared and scorched in an endless cycle, the pain radiating down my bones and through my spine, settling in a sharp headache at the base of my skull.
All the fear, anger and despair roiled within me under the pain. Even the scents of the room felt sickly, wrong. Suffocating. No breeze from the choked windows, a locked door at my side.
I remembered the feeling well. Here in the manor, smothered in the smell of flowers, but also –
The putrid damp of filthy water. A crunch of hay under me. The hours I spent walking in circles, fingers brushing up against jagged cold stone until they were raw…
I shook my head to try and dispel the memories. I was not underground. I was not Under the Mountain. I was not in a cold and dank cell reeking of vomit. I was in a room with a bed and the sounds of birds in the trees and I would be let out tomorrow.
I was going to get out. I was going to get out.
Groaning in frustration, I jumped in shock from pain as I ran my hands through my hair and the shackles seared against the skin on my forehead. If I could just focus, just calm for a moment, I could ride through the pain, get control of myself enough to think this through. But I couldn’t find a foothold between pain and panic, and so I passed untold hours longing for relief.
Twilight had fallen with barely a notice, darkness creeping in between the small spaces left between the trunk of the rose bush. Only a single candle was lit on a small windowsill. But I didn’t mind. I let the darkness soothe me, hide me, propped against the green wallpaper, wishing for sleep to wash over me.
I was no closer to sleep when a soft knock on the door and the click of the lock announced a sentry bringing me food and tea and water. I didn’t think I could choke down the rich courtly fare, but I chugged the water desperately. Searched the platter - no cutlery.
I settled back down with a cup of tea, soothing in my hands, and scanned the room.
A litany of fears had been marching through my mind, whipping my heart rate higher and higher. What if these stones, these chains, weren’t just hiding my power but taking it? What if they took them off me tomorrow and I was drained dry like an empty well? Was that Tamlin’s greatest wish - that I no longer risk his Court and unwanted attention by others? What if my powers would be no use to me in escaping this place?
I had been selfishly, shamelessly waiting to hear him - the crack of an angry winnow, the thunderclap of pounding wings, the unmistakable power of star-kissed night.
I finished the last sip of tea with a sigh, sugar at the bottom of the cup filling my mouth with overwhelming sweetness.
But what happened then, if he did come? What if he descended on Tamlin with an army of Illyrian warriors wreathed in darkness? What if he turned this manor to rubble and word went out across Prythian about yet another act of violence and wrath by the dark lord?
Perhaps I was worrying about the wrong things. As twilight turned to midnight, and the only sounds were the shuffling of sentries and a nightingale in the gardens, I felt a dreadful numbness steal over me. I couldn’t sleep, but I closed my eyes and listened.
Rhys wasn’t here.
Why wasn’t he here?
I knew he could winnow here, believed he could unravel Tamlin’s wards with a flick of his wrist.
It was silly of me, selfish to think – I had to be realistic –
Maybe Amren was advising him right now. Be cautious. Don’t start a war. Don’t burst into enemy Courts and start destroying things because then how would they respond in turn?
I was, after all, just an emissary. Most likely a poor one at that. A bumbling child that he had taken some pity on and kept around for our own mutual interests.
Reality hit me cold and harsh. I shut my eyes to it, grit my teeth. A deep, biting chill poured through my bones. The cold so deep I thought it might freeze and break me apart.
I had just thought, maybe this time – maybe somebody would come for me. Remembered how strange it had felt when Mor had lifted me in her arms like a child. How I had woken up to the dawn and mountains - upset and confused and numb, but also, safe.
I steeled myself against the panic, the self-pity.
When had I come to rely on him so much? That his absence felt unnatural, unnerving?
Whether he was coming or not, I couldn’t stay here. I would have to do it myself. Just as I had always done, before I met him and before I even came to Prythian. Staying here was against the question - not with my powers sapped, with the measures they had taken to hobble me.
I drew a deep breath into my lungs. I called upon whatever reserves of strength I had left. The last mile in the woods before turning in for the night, hungry and desperate. My body shivered at the quaking pain against my skin. I stood up to take in the room.
If I worked on the rose tree, I couldn’t open a space large enough to get out but I could take a branch for a weapon. Maybe I would fashion daggers out of thorns, maybe I’d save the milky burning sap for whoever opened my door next.
A weapon, a snare, a distraction. I knew from experience that none of it would matter without my powers. I wouldn’t get past the front gates.
Blue stone pressed against the pale bruised skin of my wrists. A tight fit, but…
I curved my thumb, hissing through my teeth as I pushed the stone against my bones. Willing joints and bones to bend. Black dots started to blur my vision against the burning agony of whatever poisoned magic they possessed.
A deep breath as I let up again, stone back to dangle on my wrist.
I had seen the aftermath of animals that gnawed their way out of traps. Coming hours later to discover blood and tufts of fur at some life or death struggle lived alone and in agony.
I would have to break my thumbs. If I could do it quickly, before the pain overtook me, my fae healing could return and I –
I tried to breathe around the panic, tried to listen and distract myself from my racing thoughts.
The sounds of the manor settling became softer and quieter as night deepened. Murmured voices from the conversation of sentries outside of my door. The distant sound of doors closing, servants going about their final duties for the evening as if this place hadn’t become a prison. The nightingale was calling desperately outside, joined in an occasional chorus by the soft answer of an owl somewhere on the edge of the forest.
I let everything settle inside of me. Quieting. Digging. Looking for that deep well of power within me once again - before I had to resort to this. Feeling the air around me - wanting to call the magic forth - whether fire from the candle or water from the dew settling on the rose petals - I begged something to speak to me, to pull it from inside me where it hid.
The nightingale had gone quiet. And through the woven tapestry of curled wood and thorns silver light was streaming in between the darkness - the light of the moon.
Of course. How ridiculous of me.
I hadn’t been able to summon the darkness before like Rhysand had, speckled with those jewel-like stars. But I reached for it, called for it, thinking of him, of the power I could always sense emanating off of him – of the vast and endless night skies peeking into my room.
The air pressure in the room dropped along with the temperature - my next breath coming out in a cold puff of air.
A crackling on my skin like lightning about to strike, all my hairs standing up on end. Before my mind could understand, the latticed prison of the rose tree snapped through the middle with a deafening crack.
A sharp sliver of onyx glass cut through the room, and Rhysand stepped out of it onto the carpet in front of me.
Even with my fae senses dulled, I could indeed feel that power off of him now, blackness twisting in the air like cold smoke with the promise of death.
His wide eyes quickly scanned the room. When he found me, he went still as stone.
Read the rest on AO3
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since in my Expedition AU i'm shuffling up the team meet-ups, i'm thinking that pretty much the whole team is assembled before they leave the Tang Empire frontier. in the book, Wukong is acquired in a mountain that stands right at the border, and i'm making him the last one in my au
so i'm thinking it goes Bailong > Sha > Zhu > Wukong
Ao Lie eats Tripitaka's horse when he and his disciples stop by the river to refuel their waterskins. the attack scares and scatters them, leading them to get caught by demons. disciples get eaten, and Ao Lie overhears the whole celebration and investigates, and hearing Tripitaka is next on the menu, he goes "oh i fucked up!". So in he goes to rescue Tripitaka and goes "yeah so i'm your disciple now, so sorry about the horse but uuuh how's this?" and boom horse time;
Sha Wujing is recruited as Ao Lie and Tripitaka struggle through the Gobi desert stretch of the track. Wujing attacks their traveling group, which gets them separated and Ao Lie is desperately running around trying to flee from the massive demon that seems to swim in the dunes like water. Tripitaka almost gets eaten but Ao Lie goes dragon mode and flies them out of reach. Due to heaven's parole terms, he shouldn't be in the skies like that so he almost gets arrested before he argues his case, and the local heavenly soldiers go "oh wait, that demon is meant to be a disciple too, Guan Yin came by to tell us, just call him by his byname." boom, Sha acquired and he leads them to an oasis to recover and continue the trip;
Zhu Bajie gets found after the group has to, head closer to the Northern Tibet range to get their bearings again and, another travel group. Safety in numbers and all, even if they now have a massive demon and a horse dragon tagging along. They find the Gao Village and overhear the troubles along the streets, and when they get some lodging, good old Elder asks for Tripitaka to try his hand at exorcising the demon. Bailong and Wujing tag along just in case. It ends up with a long debacle and lots of praying from Tripitaka, Ao Lie causes a minor flood to get Ganglie to show up and fix the ruined fields, a bit of fighting is had, Wujing and Ganglie get into a little eating bet for him to sign the annulment papers which Gao has a little cry about, a bit more fighting, then they figure out he was recruited by Guan Yin as well, and boom mister Zhu Wuneng is acquired;
Aaaaand for our beloved Sun Wukong, things go rather as usual, the group is tracking along when they get pounced by a tiger. The group makes quick work of it cus of course, which ends up being a hunter's mark and after a small talk, they receive lodging from Boquin. Wujing praises his leatherwork and Bajie bemoans not being able to have a taste of their host's lovely cooking. At night, Boquin overhears the disciples speaking about Tripitaka's need for fake papers after they are outside of the country and their attempts to fake some themselves. He intends to confront them in the morning, but Tripitaka pacifies the father's ghost after prayers and Boquin is now indebted to them, so he promises to lead them to a secret hunter's path so the border sentries won't spot them. The path goes through Five Phases Mountain which no one but the locals dare to tread, which finding and releasing Wukong goes about by the book, with some added horror stories about the Great Sage who wreaked havoc in Heaven centuries past, and the disciples' very reasonable concern and fear of being near such a being, much less have him tag along.
#jttw#journey to the west#xiyouji#jttw au#expedition to the west au#sun wukong#zhu bajie#tang xuanzang#tripitaka#sha wujing#ao lie
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#58: Echo [Overwatch 2]
Always ready to learn!
This fun idea comes to us from a user by the name "deduqzaru". Today, we build the ultimate adaptoid. Echo, the creation of Doctor Liao - founding member of Overwatch - is a capable Damage hero, programmed with an advanced AI to fulfill variety of roles in combat and outside of it.
Next Time: Whosoever holds this hamm— NO! Not you! We're going back to the original!
Let's list the three main directives of this build:
Jill of All Trades: Echo was created with the goal of being able to fit into many situations, whether in combat or outside of it. In-game, her kit makes her a great scout, engager and damage-dealer.
I am Thou: Echo's Ultimate skill, "Duplicate" allows her to assume the form and copy the abilities of other characters on the battlefield.
Self-Sustainable: As a robot, Echo is unaffected by many statuses and effects that would affect humans: hunger, sleep, diseases, etc.
---
There were two options to start with Echo; one very obvious, the other - not so much... so I went with the obvious one and made her a Warforged. We get a +2 Constitution and +1 to one ability of our choice (Dexterity), 30 feet walking speed, and also immunity to being aged by magic. With Constructed Resilience, we gain several benefits to our fortitude:
Resistance to poison damage and an advantage on saving throws against being poisoned
We don't need to eat, drink or sleep
We are immune to diseases
We don't need to sleep, and magic cannot put us to sleep
Stemming from that last one, thanks to Sentry's Rest we can spend our long rest (shortened to a minimum of six hours) in a sort of energy-saving mode by remaining in a motionless (but still aware) state rather than unconscious sleep.
Another set of benefits we're granted by our Integrated Protection. We gain a +1 to our AC and can integrate any armour we're proficient in into our own body (and it cannot be removed against our will). Finally, Specialised Design gives us one skill proficiency (Performance) and one tool proficiency (perhaps Tinker's Tools could help us heal/repair).
Because of her learning matrix, Echo holds a huge amount of information. We will make her a Sage, giving us proficiencies in Arcana and History, three languages of our choice, and the Researcher feature - whenever we must recall a piece of lore, we know exactly where to look for the relevant information (library, archive, people of interest, etc.)
ABILITY SCORES
We'll start with Dexterity to move around the battlefield and position ourselves to different roles. Constitution will be next, our body is made of quality materials. After that, we're taking Intelligence, as recording information is what we're all about.
Charisma will be next; we're an adaptoid who can also impersonate others, we need to be convincing. Wisdom is on the lower end, we're still learning after all. Finally, we're dumping Strength.
CLASS
I've had a few ideas here, depending on which race I was going to pick for Echo. In the end, I've decided on something interesting and went Rogue start-to-finish. Rogues get the d8 as their Hit Dice, [8 + our Constitution modifier] initial Hit Points, proficiencies with light armour, simple weapons, hand crossbows, longswords, rapiers, shortswords, and thieves' tools. Let's give Echo a studded leather set and a hand crossbow (and maybe darts) to integrate into her body, the latter to represent her primary tri-shot attack. Our saving throws are Dexterity and Intelligence, and we get to pick four skills from the class list (Acrobatics, Deception, Insight, and Perception).
Level 1: We begin this build by gaining Expertise in two skills we're already proficient in, or one skill and thieves' tools. We can double our proficiency bonus for any checks we make using those skills. Let's apply that to Deception and Insight. We can also apply Sneak Attack to strikes that we make with advantage; once per turn, if we attack with an advantage (or our target is within 5 feet of another creature hostile to it), we can add extra 1d6 damage (the value changes as we level-up).
We also learn Thieves' Cant (can't what?), a series of special code phrases and symbols that is recognisable only to us and those who operate in the same circles as us (so, like... Python, C++, HTML, pick your poison) to decode or encode messages.
Level 2: We can now use Cunning Action to take the Dash, Disengage, or Hide actions as bonus actions.
Level 3: Our Sneak Attack bonus is now 2d6. We also pick our subclass, the Roguish Archetype. Since Echo needs several abilities that are similar to magic, despite my dislike of MagiTech, we will make her an Arcane Trickster. We gain Spellcasting, with Intelligence as our casting ability. We learn cantrips and a fixed number of regular spells. We gain the Mage Hand cantrips and two others of our choice (Light and Shocking Grasp) and three 1st-level spells: Disguise Self, Feather Fall, and Magic Missile. With those three, we have covered Echo's ultimate (to a degree), her passive ability to glide, and her primary tri-shot.
Additionally, with Mage Hand Legerdemain, we can make our Mage Hand invisible and use it to perform additional tasks (pickpocketing, using thieves' tools with it, etc.).
Level 4: Time for the first Ability Score Improvement, and we will use it to bump up our Dexterity by two points. We can also grab the Identify spell to access our vast database.
Level 5: Our Sneak Attack bonus is now 3d6. We can now activate our extra jet boosters and make an Uncanny Dodge; doing so, we can use our reaction to halve the damage of an attack hitting us (if we can see it).
Level 6: We get an upgrade to our Expertise, by selecting two more skills that will benefit from the effect: let's choose History and Perception.
Level 7: Our Sneak Attack bonus is now 4d6. We also unlock 2nd-level spells, so let's grab Aganazzar's Scorcher to replicate Echo's Focusing Beam ability.
Here, we also gain a very useful maneouvre ability: Evasion. When we are forced to make a Dexterity saving throw against an effect that would result in us taking half damage on a success (such as the Fireball spell), we instead take no damage. On a failure, we take half damage instead of full damage.
Level 8: Another ASI. We can cap our Dexterity to 20 for even better AC and Initiative bonus. To replicate Echo's Sticky Bombs ability, let's use the spell Snilloc's Snowball Swarm.
Level 9: Our Sneak Attack bonus is now 5d6. We gain a new subclass feature: Magic Ambush. If, while casting a spell, we are hidden from our target, the creature has a disadvantage if the spell requires them to make a saving throw.
Level 10: Halfway through the build and we get a new cantrip (Light) and another spell. Let's get Detect Thoughts to improve our impersonations. We also get another ASI; let's put two points into Constitution here.
Level 11: Our Sneak Attack bonus is now 6d6. We now gain a Reliable Talent, which makes our proficient skills even more refined; whenever we make a skill check using a skill we're proficient in, we treat every roll of 9 and below as 10. We also get another spell; let's pick See Invisibility to upgrade our visual sensors.
Level 12: For this level's ASI, instead of increasing any traits, we're gonna pick a feat that furthers Echo's specialisation: with the Actor feat we get a +1 to our Charisma, an advantage on Deception and Performance checks used to impersonate another person, as well as the ability to mimic the speech and sound of another person or creature (if we hear them speaking for at least 1 minute).
Level 13: Our Sneak Attack bonus is now 7d6. We also unlock another class feature; Versatile Trickster lets use use our invisible Mage Hand to distract a target within 5 feet of it as a bonus action. Doing so, gives us an advantage on attacks against that target until the end of the turn.
Additionally, we unlock 3rd-level spells and we can finally become the aerial support with Fly.
Level 14: At this level, we install some new update to our sensors and gain Blindsense. If we're able to hear, we are aware of the location of any hidden or invisible creature within 10 feet of us.
For our next spell, we're going to grab Melf's Minute Meteors for some cover fire/carpet bombing.
Level 15: Our Sneak Attack bonus is now 8d6 and our software gets some patches, because thanks to Slippery Mind we gain proficiency in Wisdom saving throws (and oh, we desperately need it).
Level 16: For another ASI, we can round up Charisma and Intelligence with one point each. We can also grab another spell, so let's disappear from the enemy's radar with Nondetection.
Level 17: Our Sneak Attack bonus is now 9d6.
Time for our final subclass feature; Spell Thief allows us to hack the system and steal the knowledge of how to cast the spell from another once per long rest. Immediately after being targetted by a spell (or being in the area of one), we can use our reaction to force the caster to make a saving throw. On a failed save, the spell is cancelled and we steal the knowledge behind it. For the next 8 hours, we can cast the spell using our spell slots and the original caster cannot access that spell.
Level 18: We become the most Elusive target there is. If we aren't incapacitated, attacks against us cannot be made with an advantage.
Level 19: Our Sneak Attack bonus is now 10d6. With the final ASI of the build, we will cap our Constitution to a 20. We also unlock 4th-level spells for the endgame; let's take Locate Creature to be an even better pursuer.
Level 20: Our capstone is Rogue 20, which gives us Stroke of Luck. Once per short or long rest, we can turn a failed attack or ability check into a success. For the final spell of the build, let's grab Ice Storm and re-flavour it into carpet bombing.
---
And that is Echo, carrying the spirit of one of the founders of Overwatch. Let's see what we came up with:
First of all, we have all the boxes of being the cutting edge automaton checked; we do not require food and water or sleep, we are immune to diseases, and can still keep watch even during stasis. We have good detection skills thanks to spells, mobility, and good Insight. Finally, we have also covered Echo's mimicking ability thanks to Disguise Self and proficiency in Deception and Performance.
Our AC is 18, wew have a +5 to our Initiative, and the average of 176 Hit Points.
Although we have hit two 20s in this build (Dexterity and Constitution), we don't have much in terms of other abilities. Our Strength modifier is still a negative, and our Wisdom is pretty low; even with proficiency in saving throws, it may be challenging to resist some crowd control effects. Sometimes, hackers might get the better of us.
---
Wow, it's been some time since I've typed the ending words. I enjoyed this one, the Overwatch characters have a really good potential to use in your D&D game; let me know if I should do more of those. It's good to do this again, and I saw that you guys wanted more gods, so I shall deliver.
I'll see you in the next one, darlings! - Nerdy out!
#dnd#dungeons and dragons#character building#d&d 5e#dnd 5e#overwatch#echo#overwatch 2#warforged#rogue#blizzard#video gaming#dnd character#dnd5e#dnd build#echo overwatch
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Day 70: The Temple of Water
I'm just sort of having fun really, jumping through the low gravity, riding bubbles, stealing gear from sentries. I feel like I'm climbing higher, but to what end? I hope Sidon's alright, wherever he is.
And then I see it. An enormous waterfall pouring out of a sky island that's formed almost like a creature of some kind - a bird? It must be what I'm heading towards.
I build a glider to reach it.
The Water Temple. The Great Wellspring of Hyrule. And it's covered in sludge.
More than that, something at its heart is actively spitting sludge out into the water.
I should have come here sooner. Sidon held all this back for so long without aid. Why didn't he send anyone for help? Why didn't he call for me before? He had to know I would come.
Where is he?
Right below the source of the sludge, there's a lock for Rauru's hand. But it's corrupted somehow - it turns red when I try to activate it.
What now? Where is Sidon?
I head back to find him - ah. I glided right over his head. Once he knows I've caught up, he heads up to the temple too.
He agrees that this brown mass is the source of the sludge. He points out five water pumps above it - if we can just turn them on… let's get to work.
Rauru's panel works for me now. Are they conditional? Perhaps it isn't possible for me - for Rauru - to access the temples without their sages present. Interesting.
The panel activates the gate, as well as the water mechanism - but we need more water to make it work.
Sidon hears the Sage of Water. As I thought. She guides us to activate the mechanisms and pour out the purifying water.
It's almost dusk before we find the first water wheel. It must be three days since Sidon was home. We should move faster.
The second, in the night.
The third, just before dawn.
#totkdaily#day 70#the water temple is just such good fun#and the SKIES up here#10/10 no notes#totk#loz#zelda#legend of zelda
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I made a list of 200 potential Valyrian steel weapon names for various houses, listed by region. * indicates a canon name. Brackets indicate previous owners according to my headcanons.
Crownlands (32)
Targaryen: Blackfyre (bastard sword)*, Dark Sister (longsword)*, Ash Heart (longsword), Nightingale (dagger)
Bar Emmon: Judgement (longsword)
Blount: Safeguard (sword)
Brune: Misfortune (sword)
Buckwell: Able Might (sword)
Bywater: Bereaver (sword)
Cargyll: Satisfaction (sword)
Celtigar: Scarlet Hold (battle axe)
Chelsted: Glory (mace), Honor (dagger)
Farring: Nemesis (longsword)
Follard: Bright Sage (sword)
Harte: Fortitude (sword)
Hogg: Battle Hunger (sword)
Landward: Despair (sword)
Mallery: Due Trust (sword)
Manning: Pride's Protector (sword)
Massey: Diligence (longsword)
Rambtom: Dominion (sword)
Rollingford: Red Spring (sword)
Rosby: Stranger's Touch (sword)
Ryyker: Grievance (sword) [House Darklyn]
Staunton: Soaring Virtue (sword)
Stokeworth: Good Faith (broadsword)
Sunglass: Starlight (greatsword)
Thorne: Torment (sword)
Wendwater: Resilience (sword)
Velaryon: Maelstrom (longsword), Riptide (longsword)
Dorne: (19)
Martell: Heaven's Eye (spear),
Allyrion: Omen (sword)
Blackmont: Vengeance (sword)
Dalt: Sour Edge (sword)
Dayne: Dawn (great sword)*, Dusk (longsword)
Fowler: Ascension (sword)
Gargalen: Mother's Tears (sword)
Jordayne: Fate (sword)
Ladybright: Brilliance (sword)
Manwoody: Eternity (sword)
Qorgyle: Venom (sword)
Santagar: Constancy (battle axe)
Toland: Spiritcaller (sword)
Uller: Hellfire (longsword)
Vaith: Desolation (sword)
Yronwood: Black Guardian (sword)
Wells: Paradise (sword)
Wyl: Bonecutter (sword)
Iron Islands (18)
Greyjoy: Sea Devil (longsword) [Essosi sailor]
Blacktyde: Challenger (sword) [House Charlton, Riverlands]
Botley: Anguish (sword) [House Payne, Westerlands]
Codd: Infamy (sword) [House Deddings, Riverlands]
Drumm: Red Rain (bastard sword)* [House Reyne, Westerlands]
Farwynd: Wayfarer (sword) [House Vance, Riverlands]
Goodbrother: Screamer (sword) [Essosi sailor]
Harlaw: Nightfall (longsword)* [Dalton Greyjoy <- Essosi sailor]
Ironmaker: Bloodsurge (sword) [House Osgrey, Reach]
Kenning: Nagga's Daughter (longsword) [Essosi sailor]
Merlyn: Torrent (sword) [House Waterman, North]
Myre: Battlelover (arakh) [Essosi sailor <- Dothraki khal]
Orkwood: Fishfeeder (battle axe) [House Shawney, Riverlands]
Saltcliffe: Upsurge (sword) [House Goodbrook, Riverlands]
Sunderly: Seawhisper (cutlass) [Essosi sailor]
Tawney: Blight (longsword) [Essosi sailor]
Volmark: Valor (sword) [House Oakheart, Reach]
Wynch: Moonshard (sword) [Essosi sailor]
North (20)
Stark: Ice (great sword)*, Thought (dagger), Memory (dagger)
Ashwood: Glad of War (sword)
Bolton: Honesty (flaying knife)
Cassel: Perseverance (sword)
Cerwyn: Fine Point (sword)
Condon: Resistance (sword)
Dustin: Barrowkeeper (sword)
Glover: Fidelity (sword)
Hornwood: Frostbite (sword)
Ironsmith: Deathforger (sword)
Karstark: Cold Glory (claymore)
Lightfoot: Steady Foe (sword)
Locke: Hoarguard (sword)
Manderly: Merling's Wrath (trident)
Mormont: Longclaw (bastard sword)*
Ryswell: Nightmare (sword)
Tallhart: Evergreen (sword)
Umber: Giant's Tooth (great sword)
Reach (40):
Tyrell: Rose Thorn (longsword) [House Gardener]
Ambrose: Endurance (sword)
Ashford: Clarity (sword)
Beesbury: Stinger (sword)
Bridges: Unity (sword)
Bulwer: Red Kiss (sword)
Caswell: Father's Justice (bastard Sword)
Chester: Malice (sword)
Cockshow: Remembrance (sword)
Cordwayner: Principle (sword)
Costayne: Last Love (sword)
Crane: Sentry (sword)
Cuy: Joy (sword)
Dunn: Sacrifice (sword)
Florent: Cunning (sword)
Footly: Solitude (sword)
Fossoway: Pleasure (sword)
Graceford: Piety (sword)
Grimm: Misery (sword)
Hewett: Melancholy (sword)
Hightower: Vigilance (longsword)*
Hunt: Mastery (sword)
Hutcheson: Splendor (sword)
Kidwell: Eternal Bond (sword)
Leygood: Intuition (sword)
Lowther: Legacy (sword)
Meadows: Poppy Blossom (sword)
Merryweather: Plenitude (sword)
Mullendore: Revival (sword)
Pommingham: Perdition (sword)
Redding: Fortune (sword)
Redwyne: Bloodthirst (sword)
Rhysling: Warden (sword)
Rowan: Passion (bastard sword)
Roxton: Orphan Maker (longsword)*
Serry: Massacre (sword)
Shermer: Proven Will (longsword)
Tarly: Heartsbane (great sword)*
Webber: Spiderbite (sword)
Wythers: Vitality (sword)
Riverlands (18):
Tully: Devotion (longsword)
Lord of Harrenhal: Lifedrinker (scimitar) [House Hoare <- Essosi sailor]
Blackwood: Peacekeeper (sabre)
Blanetree: Amber Charm (longsword)
Bracken: Willbreaker (sabre)
Butterwell: Rumination (sword)
Cox: Riverguard (sword)
Darry: Mourning (bastard sword)
Frey: Toll Taker (sword)
Mallister: Mercy (broadsword)
Mooton: Champion (broadsword)
Paege: Bloodbond (sword)
Piper: Maiden's Kiss (sword)
Roote: Liberty (sword)
Ryger: Remorse (sword)
Smallwood: Harmony (sword)
Terrick: Steel Screech (sword)
Vypren: Prudence (sword)
Stormlands (24):
Baratheon: Fury (great sword) [House Durrandon]
Bolling: Defiance (bastard sword)
Buckler: Security (sword)
Cafferen: Bloom (sword)
Caron: Silencer (sword)
Connington: Griffin's Bite (sword)
Dondarrion: Sure Strike (bastard sword)
Estermont: Wisdom (sword)
Kellington: Influence (sword)
Fell: Moonshadow (sword)
Grandison: Long Sleep (sword)
Gower: Undoing (sword)
Horpe: Blessed Memory (longsword)
Lonmouth: Wraith Lover (longsword)
Mertyns: Seer (sword)
Morrigen: Phantom Queen (bastard sword)
Penrose: Achievement (bastard Sword)
Rogers: Mystery (sword)
Selmy: Warrior's Triumph (longsword)
Staedmon: Heavy Heart (dagger)
Swann: Swansong (great sword)
Tarth: Twilight (bastard sword)
Trant: Hatred (sword) [House Toyne]
Wylde: Raindancer (sword)
Vale (22):
Arryn: Talon (broadsword)
Belmore: Deathtoll (sword)
Coldwater: Vigor (sword)
Corbray: Lady Forlorn (longsword)*
Donniger: First Blush (sword)
Egen: Expanse (sword)
Grafton: Crone's Light (sword)
Hersy: Overflow (sword)
Hunter: Decimation (sword)
Lipps: Praise (sword)
Lynderly: Snakebite (sword)
Melcolm: Balance (sword)
Moore: Humility (spear)
Pryor: Eclipse (sword)
Redfort: Ruby Rage (bastard sword)
Royce: Lamentation (longsword)*
Ruthermont: Shadowsteel (sword)
Sunderland: Fang (sword)
Templeton: Reverence (sword)
Upcliff: Sorcery (bastard sword)
Waxley: Beacon (sword)
Waynwood: Threadcutter (bastard sword)
Westerlands (20):
Lannister: Brightroar (great sword)*
Algood: Justifier (sword)
Banefort: Corpsemaker (sword)
Brax: Silver Promise (longsword)
Broom: Loyalty (sword)
Crakehall: Tusk (broadsword)
Estren: True Majesty (sword)
Farman: Sunset's Call (sword)
Hawthorne: Ruination (sword)
Lefford: Golden Grace (sword)
Lydden: Deepgrave (sword)
Marbrand: Cinder (bastard sword)
Plumm: Gilded Trust (sword)
Prester: Willpower (bastard sword)
Serrett: Smith's Pride (sword)
Turnberry: Sweet Victory (sword)
Vikary: Crimson Courage (sword)
Westerling: Purity (sword)
Yarwyck: Reckoning (bastard sword)
Yew: Conviction (longsword)
#asoiaf#grrm#valyrian steel#i came up with most of them but some i got from other people's posts#i don't love all of them but [shrugs]#i spent like a month putting this together and just had to share
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It's been a while since I did another artwork like this, anyways I think you all know why I decide to create this one as I want to introduce to one of my OC
So a month ago, I was trying to play Hollow Knight for the first time and today, I nearly got all of the achievements except from the half of the Pantheon (including Pantheon of Hallownest) and Pure Completion (which I tried to, but got stuck on Pantheon of Sage from Gray Prince Zote xd )
After playing HK for half of a month, I started to love HK and want to created my own OC from this fandom
youtube
Meet Phyra, the daughter from one of The Five Great Knights, Kindly Isma
She is a protector of Isma's Grove (directly and replace the position of the Hallownest Sentry enemies) and also love to explore the entire Hallownest, just like The Knight. Her birth is known to be very mysterious as she was born with a Steel Heart (aka Steel Soul mode) and the half of Isma's power (which is immune to acid water)
When the in-game story happens, Phyra still stays at Isma's Grove and currently been taking care by Dung Defender. Not long until she decide to wander around to seek the truth of the infection and get across with The Knight at the City of Tears.
(I might do the other too like Hornet, The Knight and THK one day)
#hollow knight#hollow knight oc#hollow knight au#hk art#hk oc#hk au#original character#oc#interpretation#steelheart#grove#art#illustration#clip studio paint#csp#Youtube
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Winterfest Drabble 2
(( here’s the rest of it i guess lol ))
Sage had found the company he’d been looking for to give to Amund, it’d taken a little longer than he would’ve liked it to but he knew he wouldn’t be late finding the party. He always came across them when he needed to. He’d left the little critter in Haven Hollow, he knew it’d wait there. It would be safe from getting a face put on it by Lord and from the much larger monstrous forms of the creature.
Now he was looking for a different kind of company, one of the teams Lucas’ party would’ve divided themselves into to travel. Usually they broke up into fours (or a five, considering their now odd numbers) since keeping an entire group of 13 together was difficult, to say the least. Especially considering the... interesting people that made up that party.
There’d be three groups making their way to the nearest inn but Sage didn’t mind which team he stumbled across, he knew he’d find the right one. He always seemed to be where he needed to when he needed to. It was a weird talent he had, one he had no explanation for, at least from a magical standpoint.
Trekking through the wastes of Karkaton made him wish his coat was thinner, but he couldn’t stand to take it off. The thick material gave it a good weight, and it being slightly heavy was something he enjoyed. Admittedly, he enjoyed it a little less when he was baking in the heat, but it wasn’t like it’d be lighter with it off.
The monsters in this area generally stuck away from him, he’d helped Lucas and some of his friends get through this part of the volcano and during that he’d only shown part of his strength, however it’d been enough to discourage the creatures from attempting to take him down. That, and he often had to walk to the castle to collect Arage.
It also seemed like they were avoiding the small camp up ahead, more than likely because Cindah was there. He wasn’t entirely sure why the monsters laid off her, but they did. Maybe they’d seen how fierce she could be? That was what made most sense to him... he waved to the group as he approached, spotting Sentry, Ferrous and Sicily with her. Admittedly, seeing Sentry without Shikane was a surprise, but he shouldn’t expect they spent every moment together...
“Ey, Sage, whatcha need? Ye only rear yer head wit’ us when shite’s boutta go tits up.” She chuckled. “Aye’m jokin, b’fore ye start worryin. Come si’down. We got sum goblin ‘ams earlier, I’m makin the shits edible.” She had her frying pan on a support stand over their campfire, filled with cubes of the meat.
Sage gave a quiet laugh as he approached. “That sounds good, and don’t worry, nothing’s going wrong as of now. I was actually thinking of inviting any of you who wish to come with me to a Christmas party I’m attending tomorrow.”
Cindah’s eyes positively lit up for a second before she remembered something. “Aye fuck, I’d love tae come but I gotta go see mah brother, ye know how it is. Lemme know how it is, aye?”
Sicily then piped up with a beaming smile. “I want to go! Cindah told us about that crazy halloween party, is it gonna be like that? If it is I wanna go!!” Her pink tail swished behind her excitedly, jingling the bell tied to it.
“It won’t be the exact same, I don’t think, but it should be quite similar.” Sage certainly hoped it wouldn’t be the same as that mess... the last one hadn’t been that way, so he had high hopes for this one. From what he could tell that first party had been... unique, in the sense that it was so hostile.
Ferrous, however, didn’t seem to be convinced. “If you’re going, then Arage will be, and if he is I don’t expect the Dark Lord to be far behind. I’m sorry, Sicily, but I’m not letting you anywhere near him. Even if it is for a party.” He crossed his arms, scowling as he spoke about Lord.
“Calm down, Ferrous. If Sage is there I don’t think you need to worry about her getting hurt. And if it’s a party there’s going to be other people there, it’s not like they’re all going to be like him.” Sentry spoke up from where he was laid against a rock, his sword stabbed into the earth beside him.
The scientist found it hard to argue that logic, if it was some kind of party it implied there was other people there, and he couldn’t imagine them all being the same caliber of person as the Dark Lord was... “I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t feel safe letting Sicily go off without me if that vile man has a chance to be anywhere near her.” Ferrous frowned. “I’m sorry, but you can’t go.”
The girl’s fluffy ears folded down against her head and her tail began to droop. “What? Why not? It’d be safe! Please?” Her pleading didn’t seem to be getting her much of anywhere, however, as Ferrous shook his head once more. “If Lord is there it’s not going to be safe. Especially not if you’re alone.”
“She doesn’t have to be alone.” Sentry once more cutting in. “Why don’t you go with her, hm? Then you can make sure she stays safe and you can keep an eye on Lord if his presence bugs you that much. It’s not like he’d be able to beat you three in a fight, but I’m pretty sure he knows that anyway.”
Ferrous turned to Paul. “Would that be okay? I don’t wish to impose on anyone...” He was concerned that having not just one but two extra guests might be an issue for the hosts. However Paul simply shook his head in response. “I don’t think it’d be a problem, no. From what I can tell the venue is quite extensive, there’d be plenty of space for you both.”
An excited squeal escaped Sicily. “Does that mean we can go? Can we? Please?!” She inched closer and closer to her father figure as he mused on the idea, looking away to think before sighing slightly, he could hardly say no at this point... “Fine, but you have to promise to stay in my sight, or at least tell me where you’re going if you go anywhere without me.”
“Of course, of course!! Thanks so much dad!!” She beamed and began to purr, hugging him tightly. Ferrous was still apprehensive about attending this party, but with Sage there he was sure it’d be fine in the end. It always had been. “You’re welcome, Sicily. So, when do we need to be ready for this party?” Again he faced Sage.
“Well, I was actually on my way to Lord’s castle so I can pick up him and Arage and we can make our portal there. Don’t worry, he won’t attack you with Arage there.” He reassured him, father to father. Ferrous nodded slowly. “If you insist it’s safe then I’ll take you word for it.”
But.. there was one thing he needed to make certain of before they left, he glanced back to Cindah and Sentry. “Do you think you’ll be okay without us?” He was concerned about how the lone pair would handle being in such a volatile environment without a full team.
Cindah nodded, giving a thumbs up and wide smile. “Dinnae ye go underestimatin’ us, ye geezer. We been handlin monsters before ye were, we could take ‘em then we can take em now.” Sentry also nodded, once and firmly. “Exactly, you don’t need to father us, Ferrous. We’ll be fine.”
They all chuckled, Ferrous did essentially fill the role of the party’s father. “Well... if you’re sure..” He did his best to cast his anxieties aside. They were right, those two were strong and him and his daughter were with Paul. They were all safe. “We best be off, then. Lead the way, Great Sage.”
“You don’t need to call me that, Ferrous... but- alright, this way.” He couldn’t help being flustered, gesturing the direction of the castle before beginning the trek to the peak of the volcano, and to the castle that sat on top. It wouldn’t be all too long before they arrived, and then they’d be able to enjoy Winterfest together.
Even though he’d been so anxious the day before he found himself getting excited about the party. Yes, he was sure it was going to be good fun, even for him. His pace quickened, he couldn’t wait for the party to start.
#~{ Tales of Topia }~ (Drabbles and Fics)#~{ The Wise One }~ (Great Sage Paul)#Sicily Tag#~{ Fatherly Intellect }~ (Scientist Ferrous)#~{ Resolute Composure }~ (Warrior Sentry)#Cindah Tag#~{ Prideful Dexterity }~ (Thief Shikane)#((i mentioned him and i worked his tag out i think so-))#((and im off to winterfest!!))
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Maryo being sad and silly by sitting on a cactus
Maryo: I'm fine on my own NO YOU ARE NOT
TARI IS HERE!!
THANK YOU MISTER VOICE IN THE SKY
GRAND SAGE SENTRY!!
don't tell maryo WHAT TO DO HE'LL TOUCH THE LAMP REGARDLESS
BECAUSE HE'S A DUMMY LIKE THAT
LETS GO TARI SHE FOUND 400 GOLD!!
SAIKO IS HERE!!
that moment when you don't like the girl outfit for popsatr so you just decide to put her in a suit
OH MY GOD SAIKO ACTUALLY LIKES THE GOBLIN MEAT
tari is now apart of the goblin meat haters club (maryo, weegee and meggy)
Tari didn't get any sleep last night because Maryo talks loud in his sleep
Tari got a haircut
oh god its the cowardly prince
huh.... for once Maryo isn't the one who released the great evil
WALUIGI WHY ARE YOU A GENIE!?!? (i didn't know who'd fit the role better)
Bitch i ain't paying 500g for some mp candy
OH TREAS- oh shoot it was a trap
Tari is trying her best okay, sure she almost tripped over herself in the last battle like 3 times but she's trying ok
Kaizo the Imp is here!
and he likes the goblin ham too!!
maryo you can't turn off the sun, also tari you sweet potato i love you
Maryo: But nothing happened? Tari: Well, duh, it'll take 6 hours until sunset Maryo: THATS CALLED SUNSET
huh kaizo likes trumpets who would have thought?
How did a postman managed to find us all the way here IN THE DESSERT??? (GREG FROM DANTDM!?!?!?)
Man everyone is really egging Tari on, first Saiko gives her an encore then Kaizo stabs her in the butt
Maryo is using science and is setting Tari's paws on fire to blow things up
Kaizo and Saiko keep giving tari more turns to attack and its great
Things from my miitopia playthrough
Meggy, Luigi and Mario do NOT like goblin ham or mushroom sautee (which is oddly thematic)
However Mario enjoys Slime Jelly and Luigi likes butterfly honey
Smg4 is fine with it tho, not much of a cotton candy guy
Smg4 is a little prick and keeps stealing the others bananas and candy snacks
Meggy has got Mario a guitar as a gift, idk if it'll be actually used as intended or a as weapon of mass destruction
the others a normal classes, meggy is a warrior, smg4 is a mage, luigi is a cleric, MEANWHILE Mario is a FUCKING CHEF AND HE'S GOOD AT IT?????
SMG4 keeps using people as human shields
THE ONLY THING HE'S GOOD FOR IS DOING BIGG PP MAGIC DAMAGE
Luigi is cautious, Mario is airheaded, SMG4 is laidback and Meggy is Energetic
a siren cried but smg4 didn't give a fuck and just shot lightning at them
Luigi got sick of smg4 using him as a human shield and now they're beefing
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So I'll heard you refer to how Allura treated Keith after finding out he was half galra as racist, and I was wondering if you meant it as prejudiced based on race or if you meant prejudiced based on race and backed by systems of oppression, only the second of which I'll would say is racism. And if the second one, what systems of oppression are the galra facing? It's totally fine if you don't answer tho, I hope you have a great week!
Buckle in kids, I felt that this was owed a comprehensive answer, so it’s another long one!
“Racism is the scientifically false belief that groups of humans possess different behavioral traits corresponding to physical appearance and can be divided based on the superiority of one race over another.[1][2][3][4] It may also mean prejudice, discrimination, or antagonism directed against other people because they are of a different race or ethnicity.[2][3] Modern variants of racism are often based in social perceptions of biological differences between peoples. These views can take the form of social actions, practices or beliefs, or political systems in which different races are ranked as inherently superior or inferior to each other, based on presumed shared inheritable traits, abilities, or qualities.[2][3][4]”
[1] Dennis, R.M. (2004). "Racism". In Kuper, A.; Kuper, J. (eds.). The Social Science Encyclopedia, Volume 2 (3rd ed.). London; New York: Routledge. [2] Racism Oxford Dictionaries. [3] Ghani, Navid (2008). "Racism". In Schaefer, Richard T. (ed.). Encyclopedia of Race, Ethnicity, and Society. SAGE. pp. 1113–1115. [4] Newman, D. M. (2012). Sociology: exploring the architecture of everyday life (9th ed.). Los Angeles: SAGE. p. 405.
Additionally, to build upon the above definition, the Merriam-Webster dictionary defines racism as:
(1.) a belief that race is a fundamental determinant of human traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race (see also: behavior or attitudes that reflect and foster this belief: racial discrimination or prejudice).
(2.) [a] the systemic oppression of a racial group to the social, economic, and political advantage of another. [b] a political or social system founded on racism and designed to execute its principles.
As you’ve so astutely pointed out, prejudice based on race and backed by systems of oppression (institutional racism) is an infinitely more dangerous form of racism due to its being embedded in, and reinforced through, societal laws and regulations, therefore leading to discrimination across the board in criminal justice, employment, housing, health care, political power, and education. However, this does not negate the fact that, as per the above definitions, prejudice based on race (even when not backed by oppressive systems) still constitutes as racism.
But let’s focus this within the realms of vld’s narrative.
Now the galra people do not face any particular system of oppression - rather the Empire itself is, at present, the universe's greatest oppressor: there's no two ways about it, they invade and colonise other worlds and have been doing so for millennia, and I want to make it clear that I am in no way shape or form defending that - that being said, neither did the alteans.
When speaking of the original paladins (s3ep07), Coran notes that in some cases their people had been “warring for generations,” with the shot specifically featuring Blaytz battling against galra sentries; this, coupled with the next shot having Zarkon (backed by Trigel and Gyrgan) and Alfor (backed by Blaytz) gripping forearms, not only tells us that the Empire was not, at that time, the overwhelming superpower they are by vld’s beginning - for the people of Daibazaal and Nalquod to have been engaged in such a long conflict without end, they must have been closely matched - but also implies that the combined might of Alfor and Blaytz equals that of Zarkon, Trigel, and Gyrgan. If this is true, then Altea would seemingly be the most powerful element in that equation (allowing Alfor’s stance in that conflict to sway the tide to such an extent that the Imperial mantra of “Victory or Death” submits to diplomacy), a fact which is further reinforced by the Alteans apparent scientific superiority: first when they take charge of investigating the comet (with Alfor and Honerva indisputably at the helm) despite its landing on the galra homeworld, and again when the rift creatures break free for the first time several decaphoebs later and “King Alfor and Honerva [erect] a particle barrier around the crater” to contain the creatures. All of this we can owe to altean alchemy (knowledge accessible only to alteans) allowing Altea to be notably more technologically advanced than every other race we see, to the extent that their technology is still more advanced than that available to vast swathes of the universe even 10 millennia later.
So at the time of Altea’s destruction, the galra were not in a position of sociopolitical power over the alteans, nor did they oppress them. If you really wanted to be pedantic, you could even argue that the destruction of Altea itself wasn’t actually a result of racial prejudice, but rather Zarkon’s personal vendetta against Alfor transformed into a genocidal tragedy (it was an-eye-for-an-eye situation: Zarkon didn’t destroy Altea because he believed the galra to be inherently superior, he destroyed Altea because Alfor destroyed Daibazaal, and that was all the justification his quintessence-warped mind needed).
But let’s be honest here, Zarkon held an entire race accountable for the actions of one man, and proceeded to punish them for it. That is inherently racist.
In turn, Allura holds the entire galra race (including Keith) accountable for the actions of one man,,,,,, and I’m sure you see where I’m going with this.
As per the definitions at the top of this post, Allura's treatment of Keith after she learns that he is galra (along with her initial treatment of Kolivan and the rest of the BoM) is a display of “prejudice, discrimination, [and] antagonism directed against other people because they are of a different race or ethnicity.” She is shown to persistently and publicly snub Keith as a form of emotional punishment for the perceived crime of his being a member of the galra race, displaying a particular level of venom against him so apart from their prior dynamic that it can come from nothing other than her hatred of the galra as a whole, and the assumption that Keith himself must be “like them”.
But let me break it down further.
Right at the very beginning of s2ep09, Kolivan and team Voltron are planning for their looming confrontation against Zarkon. While Kolivan and Shiro seem to have a mutual respect for one another (Shiro even instigates a friendly handshake which Kolivan turns into that cute galra arm-grasp thing), Allura's tone is notably cold and accusatory when she remarks:
"As long as we all stick to the plan, it should work."
To which Kolivan replies:
"It will work. Perhaps then you'll learn that not all galra are as bad as Zarkon."
This tells us a lot about how she's been acting prior to that which we see firsthand, particularly seeing as s2ep08 ended with Kolivan kneeling before her in a gesture of obvious respect; he's not a proud man, and had no issue bowing to the foreign princess of a dead planet, so for her to be acting like this despite him having shown her more deference than any other character in the show is extremely telling... but I could have forgiven this. Despite having dedicated his life to ridding the universe of Zarkon and undermining the Emperor’s tyranny, Kolivan is an unknown: he’s a galra man in a position of authority, operating at the head of a covert military organisation, many of the members of which Allura knows (thanks to having previously met Ulaz) occupy positions of power in Imperial circles. I can fully recognise and understand why she would be mistrustful of that, and arguably she’s right to be so.
The real problem is her treatment of Keith.
S2ep09 continues with the paladins being sent their separate ways, specifically Keith and Hunk being sent after the scaltrite. After Keith hugs Shiro goodbye, he turns to look directly at Allura (who has been pointedly watching their exchange) and she instantly looks away, causing him to pull this face:
He looks,,,,,, so torn up about it?? Not surprised, mind you, which is again suggestive of this treatment from her having been a constant since his return from Marmora's base, and yet a drastic change from their previous interactions pre-galra reveal, especially when you consider that only three episodes prior (s2ep06) she was more than happy to jettison off into deep space with him, entirely alone, without having informed anyone else of where they were going.
[[ Keith: “Okay, look, it’s bad enough that Allura hates me now. Can you just lay off?” / Hunk: “You just need to give her time to accept that you’re galra; the race that destroyed her entire planet and all of her people. Yeah, she might hate you a little bit.” ]]
Not that Allura's alone in her prejudice. Hunk literally says the line: "I always get the worst jobs; go to a galra-occupied planet to get my lion, go to a galra-occupied balmera to get a crystal, go into the belly of a beast with the only galra alien team member," which is really no better, he literally includes Keith's race on his list of bad things?? But (as seen above) this same scene gives us further confirmation that Allura’s recent behaviour toward Keith is a direct result of his galra heritage.
[[ Keith: “Allura, have you heard from Coran?” / Allura: “Yes.” [...] Allura, when asked the same question by Lance: “Yes, I’ve checked in with Coran and the teludav is nearly complete!” ]]
And just look at the difference between her answering Keith’s question in s2ep11, and her answering Lance on the same topic a whopping five seconds later! She demonstrates a complete shift in expression, body language, and general attitude as she elaborates on her answer to Lance, rather than shutting him down with one blunt word as she does with Keith. She then follows this up by explicitly thanking Hunk for the scaltrite (see below), only to stare Keith down with utter loathing when Hunk alludes to the fact that the red paladin was there too (Keith didn’t even ask for any sort of recognition! He was going to let her obvious prejudice slide!!) as if the mere mention of his presence is a personal offence.
[[ Hunk: “You know, Keith was there too.” / Allura: “...” ]]
It’s not until s2ep12 that Allura acknowledges her own wrongdoings against Keith, which is a step in the right direction, but what irked me when I watched it (and what I’m personally trying to rectify in LB) is that her apology felt as if it were directed towards Keith specifically, when in truth it’s her attitude of holding all galra accountable for the death of her people that’s the problem.
“I just wanted to say... the galra, they’ve done terrible things, destroyed entire civilisations. They took my family. But in time, I’ve grown to consider you and the paladins my family. So when I learnt you were galra I- I didn’t know what to think. I wanted to hate you. [...] But it’s not you, it’s me. My anger has blinded me for too long. I’m so sorry I’ve misjudged you. You’ve proven it’s not what’s in your blood, it’s who you are that counts.”
Let it be said that I am absolutely not claiming that her pain is in any way unjustified: she and Coran are the lone survivors of an unparalleled genocide at the hands of Zarkon and those under his command, all of whom (bar Haggar) are galra. And yes, the Empire is, in and of itself, a system of oppression that promotes racial prejudice in that it frames the galra people as “superior” to other non-galra lifeforms. Allura exhibits a clear trauma response in her outright rejection of all things galra, and it is in no way my intention to vilify her for that,,, but I’m not validating her either. She has suffered an unimaginable loss and of course struggles to be objective because of it, but that doesn’t negate the fact that to discriminate against Keith because he is galra is an act of racism, to mistrust the BoM because they are galra is an act of racism, and every single one of the scenes highlighted above illustrate acts of racism committed by Allura against galra people for being galra people.
Make no mistake, this isn’t me trying to pull any sort of real-world “reverse racism” card, because that’s bullshit ((the impact of making white-people jokes is not remotely on the same level as centuries of systemic oppression against poc that has consistently deprived them of equal rights for so long, and even now persists in the system’s attempts to oppress and deny true equality to people based on their race, as recently demonstrated in the olympics)) but just because the galra as a whole are in a position of power and privilege does not excuse or justify Allura’s behaviour. Does it explain the reasons behind her actions, and complicate the matter? Of course, because theoretically Keith (as a person of galra heritage) could be considered to be in a position of sociopolitical superiority, but if you really want to play that game, then as a biracial person Keith would be canonically rejected by the Empire (see Throk’s snide comments about Lotor and his generals being “halfbreeds” in s3ep01) and so reap none of those benefits, ultimately being othered by both halves of his heritage.
#and this is why having complex narratives that address serious topics through a kid-friendly fantasy lens is so important!!#Ao3 Little Blade#sa screams back#keith kogane#team voltron#tw: racism#this is such a long gd post you don't even know
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Here you go with chapter 2 of shakuntala :D
tagging @rudolphsboyfriend @redirection04 @gopikanyari @weird-u @aadyeah @holding-infinity-and-a-book @allegoriesinmediasres @avani008 @totallyforgotyouwerehere @dragonfairy1231 @taareginn @wtfrroch
“Please, just once!” she cried, beating the gates. A heavily pregnant Shakuntala had arrived to meet Dushyant finally, braving the dangers of the forest and the deceptive current of the Yamuna.
The journey till Hastinapur was quite uneventful. Shakuntala had set forth in a palanquin, along with a pair of warrior-priestesses who protected her as far as the river, bidding her off with charms crafted to ward off evil spirits from the mother and unborn child. From there, she boarded a ferry which took her across the Yamuna to the outskirts of Hastinapur, and then walked on foot till she reached the heart of the city, cutting through the bustling metropolis. Her garb, which identified her as a scholar and a holy woman, along with her prominent pregnant belly, helped her by drawing the attention of a kind innkeeper, who let her stay for free. After a day of rest and curing her sore feet, she set off for the royal palace.
Set in the western end of the city, built on a riverine island, the royal palace truly was a miraculous architectural marvel. Built of marble, it was inlaid with sculptures lined with gold and coloured with gemstones. Statues of elephants jutted from everywhere, testimony to the founding legend of the city – how a herd of elephants had led King Hastina, Dushyant’s ancestor, to the site of the great city. The gates to the palace itself were towering and imposing, reinforced with steel and menacing spikes. The gateway was shaped like a temple gopuram, row upon row lined with sculptures in brilliant colours all telling a story, and at the shikhara was a large figurine of the Keertimukh, a ferocious divine monster which devoured ghosts and evil spirits, his fangs bared and tongue lolling. As she approached the gates, a guard stopped her. Once again, her pregnant belly came to her rescue as the gruff sentry was replaced by a small ranking lady followed by her guard.
“O sadhavi, what has brought you to our gates today?” the lady asked.
“I am Shakuntala, daughter of Sage Kanva.”
“What great fortune! The daughter of the esteemed sage himself come to grace us! Pray tell madam, what do you seek?” A parasol and chair were soon arranged for Shakuntala, to shield her from the elements and provide comfort to her aching feet. Or rather to please her, for nobody wanted to anger the kin of a sage.
“I am here to meet Prince Dushyant. I am his wife, and pregnant with his child.” She announced.
Silence followed her statement. The guards looked at each other curiously, while the minister just gazed at her; and then quick as lightning, her nature changed from day to night. Her humble demeanour transformed, and so did her sweet-as-sugar tongue.
“How many times have I told you to keep prostitutes away from the palace? The crown prince has had enough problems as it is.” She said, screaming at the sentries.
“Oh no, I am not a prostitute, I am a scholar. And I’m speaking the truth, I did wed Dushyant!” Shakuntala protested.
“Oh yeah? Then where’s your proof?”
Shakuntala brought up her hand to show her the ring, but instead saw nothing but her naked skin. It was missing from her finger. She checked the folds of her sari and the bag she had brought along, but in vain. The ring, her only claim to her marriage, the only thing w;hich could negate Durvasa’s terrible curse, was missing. She racked her brain, trying to figure out when she might have lost the ring, when it dawned on her : the river. She had dipped her hand inside it while crossing it, and the ring must have fallen off then.
“Th-the river, my ring fell in the river, believe me I am his wife, we married through the gandharva rites!” she cried, desperate, as tears welled in her eyes.
“Look here whore, I have dealt with enough of you to tell truth from lies. The prince is very careful with his occasional romantic affairs, and there’s no way he would have even looked at jungle trash like you. I don’t want any trouble today, the royal coronation has me busy as it is. Just take your money and leave.”
Everything happened too fast after that. The parasol and seat were removed. A silk purse filled with silver coins was pressed in her hands and she was rushed out of the palace, whose doors closed with a definitive clang behind her.
She shouted. She banged her hands on the door until they drew blood, but nothing moved the guards. And then a terrible realization hit her.
Dushyant wouldn’t have married her. Her father was right. He had forgotten her already, despite having married her with the forest as their witness. Heck, he might even get married now, probably to a princess of a mighty land. The proposal would have been in the works for months, probably even before than when they had first met.
Just like that, Shakuntala’s world unravelled before her. She had loved Dushyant from the time he had stumbled in the ashram during that fateful afternoon. But to him, she was just another girl he had been with. Durvasa or not, she and him were never meant to be.
The trees who witnessed their love couldn’t defend her. And the river she grew up with sealed her fate.
Her visions plagued Dushyant. Since the time he woke up this morning, visions plagued him. He saw a woman – skin as fair and radiant as the moon, curly hair that reached her waist, her body full and toned. He saw him chasing her in a forest, her laugh and the sound of her anklets melting together in his ears. Each time he envisioned her, he felt an invisible pull, like a fish hook had dug itself inside his heart. And yet, he remembered none of it. He didn’t remember going to a forest or meeting a maiden. He didn’t remember losing his ruby ring, gifted to him by his mother and he was certain he hadn’t visited the tavern or drunk in months. None of it made sense, and the timing couldn’t be worse, for a madman who saw such nonsensical visions couldn’t obviously be made king. Dushyant didn’t know who that lady was, or if he had ever known her, but he was sure that meeting her might be the focal point of his life.
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Capturing a Dream
Chapter 12 – That Holds In the Pain
Chapter 1 Chapter 11
“Is that… IS THAT ONE USING A YO-YO!” Marinette whisper screamed to Adrien. Her head was just visible around the corner of the warehouse they were hidden behind, observing the robotic henchmen that the Toyman had fashioned into marionette looking dolls.
Adrien poked his head around the corner just above hers and grimaced. “Yes, I believe he is.”
“That little… that… How dare he!” she seethed, glaring at the robotic marionette. “You can’t just… you can’t just steal someone’s shtick like that.”
“Apparently you can,” Adrien commented, turning back to the rest of the Team.
“I feel like this is a personal attack. Using marionette dolls, using a yoyo… what did I ever do to this guy? I’ve never even been to Metropolis before,” she groused. “Usually I’ve at least met someone before they decide to harass me.”
Adrien scoffed. “No you haven’t. With villains, I’d say it’s about half and half.”
“You get harassed a lot?” Conner asked.
“It’s not uncommon. Paris will do that to you,” she shrugged.
“What the hell is up with Paris?” Wally asked in confusion.
“Nothing… anymore. You know, doesn’t really matter right now. How’s it going?” Adrien asked Robin.
“I’ve almost hacked into the security cameras,” Robin answered quickly. “And done.” He moved slightly so the others could gather around him to look at his phone, which was precariously linked to the security camera wires running outside the warehouse. He flipped through a few screens before stopping on one with a view of the marionette henchmen waiting in the main section of the warehouse. He angled the phone for them all to see it.
“Oh, that's...” Marinette started.
“That's a lot,” Conner finished for her. It was definitely more than they could handle without using superpowers or super suits, although if they could distract Marinette and Adrien, they might be able to get away with it.
Robin noted an estimate of how many there were in the warehouse and continued flipping through cameras. After a few more he stopped again. “That your friend?” He tilted the phone toward Marinette and Adrien.
Adrien nodded. “That’s her.”
Marinette grabbed the phone, almost dislodging the wires connecting it to the security system. “Is that a play pen? Are you kidding me? What the hell is this guy’s problem? I kind of get the toy inspired henchmen, I mean, if you’re called the Toyman, it makes sense, but a play pen? Really?”
“Mentally disturbed is kind of a prerequisite for most villains,” Wally pointed out.
“Hey, can we get a still of that, please?” Adrien asked as politely as he could. “For… scientific purposes?” He gave Robin a huge grin.
Wally chuckled and shook his head, but Robin gave him a cold stare. “Oh come on, you’d do it if it were one of your best friends,” Marinette rolled her eyes. “How are we going to make fun of her for the rest of her life about this if we don’t have pictures?”
“Pictures or it didn’t happen,” Adrien nodded sagely.
Robin huffed. “Can we focus please? We’re supposed to be trying to save your friend.”
“Right,” Adrien nodded, letting him change the subject but pouting internally. “Anyone have any ideas?”
Marinette turned back to the marionette sentries. “They're all robots, right? Being controlled by one guy, we think?” Her voice was distant, as if she was still in thought.
Conner did a quick scan of the area. There were only two heat signatures. From the security cameras, those had to be the Toyman and their friend. “Yes,” he confirmed.
“Electronic, right?” she continued, more quickly this time. She turned to them with a glint in her eyes that Adrien immediately recognized. Conner stared at her for a few seconds. He’d seen that look before. It was familiar. He knew it meant something good. He just wasn’t sure why he knew that.
“Everything he has must be digital or electronic. Which is great for ensuring that everyone working for you is of like mind, more specifically, his mind. But terrible when things like an EMP goes off. Because then, it’s just the Toyman, all by himself.” She looked over toward the Team with a grin. “I don’t suppose any of you boys would know how to make an EMP, would you?” She was already well aware of the answer, having seen Wally and Robin both do different versions in the field with parts they found around them at the time, but she had to play dumb.
Wally nodded excitedly. “I can, if I can find the parts.”
Adrien nodded toward the warehouse across from them. “I bet there’s parts in there.”
“We just need to figure out how to get in without drawing attention to ourselves,” Robin observed staring at it.
“There’s a window up there,” Marinette noted, pointing to a tiny window way at the top of the warehouse. “If I can get up there, I can fit through. Open the door from the inside.”
“And how are you planning on getting up there?” Conner asked.
“Well… I was thinking… climbing might be an option,” she drawled out, pointing to a pile of boxes leaning up against the side of the warehouse.
“That’s not going to get you in,” he pointed out.
“No, but lucky for me, I have a rather tall conspirator who looks like he works out quite a bit.” She was still staring at the window, trying to figure out the logistics and missed the way his cheeks darkened slightly. Robin did not miss it. He narrowed his eyes at Conner and smacked his shoulder. Conner glared back at him.
“Think you can lift me up? Maybe even throw me a little?” she asked excitedly, turning back to him.
Conner straightened up and looked back between the window and her. “You sure? It could be dangerous if I miss or if you can’t get a grip.”
“I trust you.” Her voice was heartfelt and her eyes shone with confidence, like there was something more there, but whatever it was Conner couldn’t figure out.
He nodded. “Let’s go then.”
Working with Marinette was significantly easier than he had anticipated working with a stranger would be. They worked like a well-oiled machined, seemingly able to anticipate what the other was going to do and react accordingly. Instead of awkward fumbling to get her into position, it was a graceful act. She was crawling through the tiny window within a matter of minutes.
A few minutes later Adrien’s phone pinged. “She says that she’s at a door at the southwest corner of the warehouse.” They headed to the corner of the warehouse hidden from the marionette sentries.
As soon as he was through the door, Wally started running around, trying very hard to keep his speed to a reasonable level. Marinette slapped Adrien’s shoulder to get his attention. “Hey, Alya texted. Here look,” she said a little louder than necessary and pointedly turned away from the rest of the warehouse to look at the text. Wally looked over to Robin uncertainly, but Robin nodded at him. Wally instantly zoomed around the warehouse, cataloging and locating all the items they would need for the EMP.
He was back by Robin’s side in an instant. “Right, I think we’re good to go. All the parts are here, just a bit scattered. The only issue is one of the parts is going to take a bit of effort and noise to get out.”
“How much noise?” Conner asked cautiously.
“A lot. They’re going to notice.”
“We’ll need a distraction to cover him so he can work,” Robin stated, looking around them to see if there was some distraction he could use.
“How big of a distraction are you looking for?” Adrien asked hesitantly looking over to Marinette. He nervously fiddled with his ring.
“Large enough they can’t ignore it, but not enough to cause too much damage,” Robin answered.
Marinette put her hand on Adrien’s shoulder, and subtly shook her head. She looked around the warehouse. “It’s a baking supply warehouse…” she noted examining the bags on the shelf. Rows and rows of different sized bags of flour in a variety of flour types.
“Going to bake something for them, Mari?” Adrien grinned at her.
Marinette’s eyes narrowed at an industrial sized fan. Her eyes quickly flicked to the flour and a lighter propped on an exposed bracer by the door, left there for employees to grab as they left to smoke. “Depends on your definition of bake.” She looked back at him with a determined glint. “Did you know flour is flammable?”
“We are not setting the warehouse on fire,” Conner exclaimed.
Marinette looked at him shocked. “Of course we’re not. Do you know how huge that explosion would be? And how many baked goods we’d be denying people from that amount of destruction?” she exclaimed in horror. “We only need one bag to make a point.”
“I’ll go with you,” Conner volunteered.
Marinette nodded as Robin set his mouth in a frown. “Grab the fan, please?” she requested as she grabbed a small bag of flour. “Give us eight minutes. I’ll text Adrien when we’re ready then within a few seconds you should hear a big bang.”
Wally groaned and dragged his hand down his face. Robin came up next to him staring at the mechanism Wally was working on with a concerned frown. “What’s wrong? Is it not going to work?”
Wally looked at him confused for a second. “Huh?” His face suddenly smoothed out in realization. “Oh, no. Of course it’s going to work. I just realized, I’m definitely not getting new cupcakes everyday next week.”
Marinette laughed and made her way through the door. “Good luck, guys. See you on the other side.”
Adrien nodded to her and turned back to Robin and Wally. “Let’s get the rest as ready as we can then. What can I do?”
Marinette and Conner snuck around the far side of the warehouses, moving quickly but quietly. When Marinette seemed to slow down and examine an area with interest, Conner finally spoke up. “Okay, what are we doing here?”
“I need this,” she patted the industrial sized fan, “to blow this,” she held up the small bag of flour in her hands, “into the air. Then we need to light it on fire and take cover right quick.”
“Shouldn’t we have brought a larger bag if that’s what we were going for?” he asked looking at the small bag in her hand skeptically. “I could have carried the fan and one of the large bags.”
She smiled at him and glanced quickly down at his arms. “I have no doubt,” she said almost absentmindedly. She flicked her eyes back up to his, her cheeks reddening slightly. “But this is enough. Anything larger and we’d be looking at taking out the entire complex.”
“Flour is that explosive?” He looked at the bag in her hands in awe.
“Extremely. Lucky for us.” She stopped and looked around. “This should be good. Far enough from the warehouses, it won’t blow them up, but close enough to get their attention.”
Conner nodded and started looking for an outlet. “I can plug it in here and we should be able to hide behind that.” He nodded toward a concrete half wall.
Marinette nodded. “We should probably move further away from that then. I don’t think you understand just how big this explosion is going to get.”
Conner nodded but stared at her for a few seconds. “You’re sure about this? With flour?”
Marinette smiled at him. “I grew up in a bakery. Trust me. You learn the most interesting things.” She ripped the top off of the bag of flour. “Okay start up the fan and point it up and out.”
Conner nodded and turned on the fan, still standing slightly in front of the fan. Marinette moved behind the fan and grinned at him as she dumped just a little bit into the fan. She laughed as the flour flew right into Conner’s face. “Things like don’t stand next to flour when a fan is on.”
Conner narrowed his eyes at her but started chuckling too. Chimera already taught him a lesson about how easily flour spreads. He should have remembered it. “At least it wasn’t the whole bag,” he acknowledged, starting to dust himself off.
Marinette’s laugh calmed down into a sweet smile. “Trying to set the air on fire. Not you. Come on, get behind me.” She slowly emptied the bag into the fan’s current. After a few seconds the air in front of the fan was thick with particles of flour hanging in the air. There was more flour on the ground than in the air, but there was enough for what they needed. “Ready?”
Conner bunched up a piece of paper into a ball and nodded. They moved behind the half wall and prepared themselves. Conner took a deep breath. This was the moment of truth. He lit the ball on fire and threw it into the flour cloud.
The explosion seemed to happen in slow motion at first then all at once as one particle ignited the next, which ignited the particles next to it, escalating at an expediential rate until the entire cloud was lit up and pushing out. Conner’s eyes widened in surprise as the blow back came for them. He dived on top of Marinette, forcing her between the ground, concrete wall, and himself, protecting her from all sides.
When he finally looked up, his ears were ringing from the explosion. He definitely had not been properly prepared. Thank god they didn’t use a larger bag. He looked down to check on Marinette, but stopped when he saw her wide, blue eyes. It was mesmerizing and confusing. Just seeing her eyes shouldn’t make him feel this way and he couldn’t figure out why it did. She was mouthing something worriedly at him. He furrowed his brow trying to make out what she was saying. He finally figured out she was asking if he was okay when he felt her push him back to sitting and crawl around him to check his back for any signs of injury.
He felt his skin tingle where she ran her hands over his shoulders and upper back, before working their way into his hair at the back of his head. It felt brilliant and like a betrayal at the same time. He moved out of her reach and gave her a weak smile. It felt nice to have her fret over him and touch him, but not as nice as it did when Chimera did it. They stood up just in time to see an army of marionettes descending upon them. “We may not have thought this through,” he whispered to her, or at least thought he whispered. He’d actually screamed it at her.
She nodded, keeping her eyes on the robots in front of her. She held her hands up in surrender. She slowly unwrapped the white ribbon in her hair and waved it around. “Parlay?” she requested with an unrepentant grin.
Conner gave her a flat look. “Really?”
“You want to take on that many? By ourselves? We just have to keep them distracted and ourselves alive for another few seconds.”
Conner sighed and turned back to the marionettes, raising his hands grudgingly as he did. Before the marionettes could advance on them, they all froze for a second before falling to the ground. Marinette and Conner looked at each other uncertainly for a second, waiting for them to do something. When they didn’t, Marinette grinned at Conner.
“Now it’s just the Toyman,” Conner said.
Marinette nodded at him. “Let’s go get him.”
“Should we wait for the others?”
Marinette shook her head. “They’ll catch up.” They reached the door to the warehouse at the same time as Wally, Robin, and Adrien. They found and tied up the Toyman easily. Without his army of robots behind him, he surrendered without a fight. Finding Chloe only took a matter of minutes after that.
“Finally! It took you long enough. Do you know how long I’ve had to sit here in this? It’s been ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Who are those losers?” Chloe scoffed, glaring at the Team members.
Wally crossed his arms and leaned toward Conner. “Can we give her back?” he asked, not trying to be quiet.
“Yes,” Marinette nodded.
“No,” Robin answered.
“Eh,” Adrien shrugged.
“Hey!” Chloe yelled. “Now get me out of this!”
“If you don’t like who’s rescuing you, you’re welcome to stay in there,” Adrien threatened.
“Fine, fine, whatever. At least they’re cute. What happened to the things?” she asked. She flicked her hands in the general direction of somewhere else.
“The marionettes were taken out by an EMP these guys created on the fly, and the ‘mastermind’,” Marinette spat the word out sarcastically, “is bound and gagged outside.”
“Rather lackluster fight, really,” Adrien mused. “Turns out the Toyman isn’t much of a threat once his toys are taken away. August was more of a threat.”
“What do you say, Chloe?” Marinette prompted her as she held the door open for Chloe.
Chloe scowled at her and flicked her ponytail over her shoulder, heading through the door. “Let’s get out of here before something bad happens?”
“Chloe…” Marinette started in a warning tone.
Chloe scoffed at her. “We’re thanking each other every time we save one another now?”
“Yes! Yes, that’s what we do,” Marinette’s exasperation was clear. Conner chuckled at her expression. Marinette’s eyes flitted over to him for a second, her cheeks turning slightly pink before focusing back on Chloe.
“Every time?” Chloe gasped.
“Yes, every time!” Marinette groaned.
“That seems excessive,” Chloe shook her head. “Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. What a waste of time.” She continued toward the warehouse exit, not bothering to look back at them.
“So… she’s like this all the time, huh?” Robin asked Adrien quietly as they followed her out.
“What? No… She’s being nice right now,” he answered seriously.
“That’s why her kidnap count is so high,” Wally nodded knowingly.
“Definitely a contributing factor,” Marinette agreed.
“I heard that,” Chloe announced loudly.
“You were meant to,” Marinette yelled back. Conner looked over to her with an amused smile, but quickly schooled his face when Robin raised an eyebrow at him.
“I’ll make sure to get that picture to you,” Robin whispered to Adrien as they made their way through the exit and into the flashing blue and red lights waiting for them outside.
Just before she made it through the door, Conner grabbed Marinette’s elbow. “Hey, I just wanted to say sorry for earlier. Telling you guys not to come. You did great for a civilian.”
Marinette beamed up at him. “Thank you. But… whoever said I was a civilian?” She winked at him and twirled with a cheeky grin back toward Adrien and Chloe as they were loading her into an ambulance so a doctor could check her out.
<><><><><>
“Try not to get kidnapped… until you get back to Paris at least,” Marinette instructed Chloe in mock seriousness as she gave her a hug goodbye.
Chloe scoffed, but returned the hug, pretending to do so halfheartedly. “Of course. Getting kidnapped in America is so boring. Who has time for that?”
Marinette rolled her eyes. “Come on. There were boring akumas too. And not all of our villains are that…”
“Pathetic?” Nino offered, slinging his arm over her shoulders.
Marinette quirked her head to the side contemplatively. “Not the word I was thinking but… I’ll go with it.”
“Hey, I got to meet Batman. I’m counting it as a win!” Alya gushed. “I got a picture of him! And the Batmobile. How awesome is that?”
Marinette grinned at her as she hugged her. “Maybe next time I can introduce you properly.”
“Yeah?” Alya’s eyes brightened with an excited glint. “That would be amazing! Think you can get me an interview?”
“I don’t know… nobody else knows my identity, other than Black Canary, so it would have to look like something he did on his own. You figure out a plausible excuse for that, and I can probably make it happen,” Marinette agreed.
“Yay!” Alya cheered, pulling her in for a long tight hug. “See, this is why you’re my favorite person. You always look out for me.”
“Hey! What am I?” Nino protested.
“The love of my life,” Alya reassured him, wrapping an arm around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek. “But she’s still my favorite person.”
Nino rolled his eyes and groaned. “I guess I get that. As long as you two don’t start kissing behind my back.”
“So you want them to do it in front of you?” Chloe asked, looking up from her phone.
Nino sputtered, his cheeks turning red as the rest of the group laughed at him. Marinette moved over and wrapped him in a hug. “Don’t worry, Nino. We won’t start kissing behind your back.”
Nino gave her a deadpan look. “I’m not going to miss you, Dudette.”
“I will,” Alya pledged, jumping onto Marinette, knocking her over with a hug. “So much. You stay safe. Love you, girl.”
Marinette grinned back at her. “Love you too.” She turned to Nino. “And you too, even if you won’t miss me. Have a good trip and keep them safe.” She gave him a meaningful look with her last sentence.
Nino nodded in understanding. “You stay safe too. Love you, Dudette. And of course I’m going to miss you,” he said seriously, ushering Alya and Chloe onto the train back to New York so they could catch their flight home.
Marinette turned to face Adrien with a watery smile. “I think I’ll miss you most of all, Scarecrow.”
Adrien chuckled and looked down. “It was nice working with you again. As a team. I’ve missed it.”
“You know, you could probably join the Team… if you really wanted,” she offered.
There was a smile on her face, but Adrien could see it was strained. He offered her a soft, unstrained smile back. “Not remotely interested. My superhero days are behind me.” He looked down as he shook his head gently. “Don’t get me wrong,” he continued, looking back up to meet her eyes, “I loved every second of it, but I think now I need to focus on healing. After everything we went through…”
Marinette looked down guiltily and nodded in understanding. Adrien hooked his finger under her chin to encourage her to look up. “Because of what my dad… Gabriel did. Not because of anything you did. You aren’t responsible for my struggling, no matter what you think. And I’ll keep repeating that until you finally believe me. If it wasn’t for you… I don’t know what I would have become. I would probably still be fighting him, in and out of the costume. He’d still be making me miserable.”
He moved his hands so they were firmly on her shoulders, offering support and encouraging her to keep facing him. “Don’t ever think for even a second that any of what we went through, any of what we’re still going through, is your fault.”
“I’m sorry I left. I left you to heal alone,” she said quietly to the floor.
“Oh, Mari,” he pulled her into a hug. “You didn’t leave me alone. I have people there for me. I have people I can talk to. You made sure of it. You still do. I have people helping me. You’re one of them, even if you don’t think so. I’ve always been surrounded by people, but for the first time, I’m not alone. You made sure I was going to be taken care of. You check on me constantly. You did not abandon me.
“I’m getting the help I need. I needed to stay in Paris. I needed familiarity to heal. You needed a complete break. You needed to be away from all the reminders. A fresh start. And you needed it just as badly as I did. Don’t feel guilty for seeking the help you needed, too.”
He took a breath and squeezed her closer for a second. “Can you do something for me?” he asked quietly. He waited a beat before he continued. “I need you to try to let go of the guilt. Which isn’t easy, I know,” he rushed to assure her. “I was wearing mine like armor, but I think it was more of a barricade, holding in the pain. I thought it was protecting me from getting hurt. I still kind of do. But I think it was really just isolating me, preventing me from seeing the world as it really is.”
He pulled away to look her in the eyes, studying the eyes he knew better than his own, eyes filled with strength but also self-doubt. “We learned so many lessons as heroes, but… but I think I’m starting to realize not all of them were real.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly with a mirthless chuckle. “Guess therapy is doing some good after all.” He shook his head lightly and looked back at her with a concerned gaze.
“I’m slowly realizing a lot of the lessons we were taught, lessons we thought the universe was teaching us; about how the world was for us, that we needed to suffer to be heroes, they weren’t... it was just my… Gabriel. They weren’t universal lessons or miraculous lessons. They weren’t real. It was Gabriel punishing us, not the universe. Gabriel manipulating the way we saw the world. But he’s gone and we can make our own rules now. I’m still coming to terms with that. It’s still hard and uncomfortable and I hate it… but I also don’t?”
He shook his head again, his eyes settled back on her. “I’m still working on it. And I just wanted to let you know because… I just… you… you seemed to internalize the lessons even more than I did and…” he looked away and pursed his lips, trying to think of the words he wanted to say, the message he wanted her to take away. He looked back at her with compassionate determination. “I won’t let him dictate my future or how I see the world anymore. And you shouldn’t let him do it for you either. We defeated him. You defeated him. Don’t let him win this. He made us suffer, not the universe. Don’t let him make you think we can’t be happy, that you can’t be happy. I’m happy, mostly. And I just… the thing is you’re amazing at giving advice, but you’re shit at taking your own advice so… I just thought maybe if you promised to do it for me…”
A whistle sounded, cutting off the rest of his sentence. Adrien looked back at her for a few moments, studying her carefully again, looking for any sign that his words finally made it through to her. After a few seconds he gave a defeated sigh and kissed her temple before he hugged her again. “That’s my cue. I love you, Marinette. I’ll see you in a few weeks, okay? But if you want to talk before then, don’t hesitate. You have a phone, a laptop, a tablet, a Zeta tube, who the hell knows what else in your base, and a Kaalki. Do. Not. Hesitate.”
She nodded and squeezed him back. She pulled away and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Have a safe flight. Love you.”
She watched him as he walked onto the train and disappeared with a final wave. Her eyes stayed focused on the door he disappeared through long after he was gone. They continued their focus long after the door had closed and the train had started moving. She didn’t notice the change in scenery until someone accidentally knocked into her with an apology and guilty smile. She waved them off with a kind smile and turned toward the exit, stumbling slightly in a daze.
She walked another block before her breath started getting uneven. She stopped to lean against a building, her brow furrowing in confusion. What was going on with her? Why did her chest feel so tight all of a sudden? She looked around her, hoping to figure it out, but there was nothing there. It was just her. Just her and her thoughts. She gasped again and leaned harder against the building. She shook her head. She needed to get home. She looked around again, this time to confirm nobody was watching her and ducked into a hidden alcove. She put on Kaalki’s glasses and Trixx’s necklace, whispering the transformation words.
She stepped through the portal and breathed in the familiar air. She took another step and let her head rest against Conner’s doorframe, her bag dropped to the floor with a thud loud enough she was sure he had heard it. After a few seconds, she collected herself enough to knock lightly on his door. She barely had time to take a bracing breath before his door swung open and Conner appeared in his pajamas. “Chi! I wasn’t expecting you to be back tonight!” He pulled her into a tight hug. He let his arms linger around her, keeping her close as he pulled away slightly, just enough to look at her so he could ask her about the visit.
He hesitated momentarily when it seemed like she clung to him tighter as he tried to pull away. But just as soon as he noticed, she loosened her grip. “Yeah, my friends just left.”
His bright smile quickly gave way to a concerned frown. The smile she offered him didn’t reach her eyes and her voice was a bit too happy to be real. “How was it?” he asked carefully.
Although her smile got bigger, it didn’t get any brighter. “It was great. We had a lot of fun.”
He nodded cautiously. “That’s… good…”
“Yeah… good,” she agreed, looking away. She tapped her fingers together nervously.
“Chi?” She didn’t look up, but she did stop tapping her fingers. “Chi, are you okay?”
She looked back up at him with a heartbreaking smile and nodded, her eyes shining with uncertainty. “Yeah, I think I… don’t know.”
He pulled her back in for a tight, protective hug. “Did something happen this weekend?” he asked darkly. He was working incredibly hard to keep his anger tempered and his body relaxed so she wouldn’t be able to sense how angry he was at whoever caused her to react like this. He knew, he knew, seeing her friends was going to end badly and now she was just barely keeping in the tears. These were supposed to be her friends and yet every time she saw them, she came back a little more threadbare, a little more broken. Whatever they were doing to her, it had to stop.
She curled into his hug, taking some time to let his presence calm her before she spoke up, her voice so quiet, even with super-hearing he had to strain to hear her. “I’m… I’m really not sure. I didn’t think so but…”
“Do you want to talk about it?” She shook her head after a few seconds, just holding him tighter. “Chi, whatever happened, whatever your friends said…”
She shook her head stronger this time. “It’s not like that. It’s… I don’t know. Everything was great and then… I couldn’t breathe. I… I don’t know what happened.” She shook her head again, more gently this time as if to clear her head. “I think I need to talk to Black Canary, but first I just… I needed this.” She stopped herself before she said what she meant, she needed him.
His anger melted away and turned to concern. She didn’t talk to Black Canary, not for therapy. Batman and Black Canary had encouraged her to go. Batman made vague references that talking with her might help her after different emotional outbursts in battle. He shuddered slightly remembering the video of her fighting the mind-controlled Superman. His comments were subtle and deceptively casual, meant to encourage her to decide it for herself without putting pressure on her.
Black Canary was much less subtle in her encouragement, going as far as to threaten her position on the team if she didn’t seriously consider it. She was stopped each time by Batman from enacting it, but it didn’t stop her from pushing it whenever she could. Each time, Chimera closed off more, backed away further, as if the idea of opening up was a physical threat to her. It had always confused Conner.
If anyone was going to have an issue discussing emotions, he would have bet on him over Chimera. She always seemed so open with her emotions, but the more he thought about it, the only emotions she seemed to share freely were positive ones. The negative emotions she kept a tight grip on, as though she thought they would cause physical and psychological torment if they ever escaped. And from the few times she did discuss them, when consoling one of the Team about something they were feeling, it didn’t seem too far from the truth for her. If she was actually planning on talking with Black Canary, even if she was just seriously considering it and didn’t actually go… this weekend must have hit her hard. And honestly, he didn’t know if that was a bad thing after all.
He looked back in his room. They really needed somewhere to sit down so she could calm down and relax. But there was just a chair and a bed in his room. There was no way she'd be okay with that. That left the common room. “Why don't we move this to the couch? We can put on a movie and ignore it,” he offered. She didn’t respond. The silence was broken by a beep that sounded like it was coming from her glasses. “That means you’re going to lose one of your magics, right?” he whispered into her ear.
She was motionless in his arms for another beat before nodding. The couch was out then. She’d want to keep her identity and the fact that her appearance changed, a secret. He looked back at his bed. There wasn’t really a choice then. “How about my room instead? I don’t have to look at you while you recharge, if you don’t want me to,” he offered. He looked between the bed and the rug on the floor. He grimaced slightly. He really had no idea which she would prefer. “You want to sit on the floor or the bed? I can throw some pillows down for us.”
She looked between the two a few times. “Bed would be more comfortable,” she finally decided.
He nodded unseen by her, his heartrate picking up at the words. They might have woken up cuddling on the couch a few times, but they’d never done it intentionally and he wasn’t sure what this meant. Had anything changed? Were they still just teammates? Is this what teammates did? It definitely wasn’t something he did with Robin or Wally.
He piled up some pillows for them to lean against and nervously got onto the bed, positioning himself so Chimera would be able to lean on him comfortably. He fought to relax is body from the tension that instantly took over, unsure if he was allowed to enjoy this or not, afraid he might enjoy it too much if it didn’t mean anything, afraid he wouldn’t enjoy it enough if it was the last time.
Chimera crawled in after him, laying her head on his chest and wrapping her arm around his waist, squeezing him as if afraid he might leave her alone. He tightened his grip around her, reassuring her that he was still there for her. He wasn’t going anywhere. He never would. He fought the urge to nuzzle into her hair. That was definitely going further than supportive teammating.
He scrolled through a few shows and movies until he found one he knew she liked. “This okay?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah, good choice,” she answered just as quietly. She knew teammates don't watch a movie like this. But right now she didn’t care. She needed this. She needed his steady heartbeat and his rhythmic breathing. She needed his scent and his touch. She needed him. She suddenly felt incredibly unsafe and unsure, like the world was getting upset around her and she wasn’t even sure where the hell that came from. She just knew she needed to feel safe and there was nowhere in the world she felt safer than with him, in his arms. She had no idea when that happened, hell, she didn’t even know she felt that way until just then, she just knew it was true.
He smiled gently at her. “Told you I had good taste,” he teased lightly.
His smile widened at her playful scoff and small smile. “Can you… can you close your eyes?” she asked quietly. Conner immediately closed his eyes. Even with his eyes closed, he could still see a bright, teal light flash quickly. Chimera moved a little bit before resting back against his chest. “Okay. You can open your eyes.”
He obliged, focusing on the movie, but let himself shoot quick glances at her new costume. “Is it… is it okay for me to…” He motioned to her costume.
Chimera chuckled lightly and buried her head in his chest a little. Conner could just catch a dusting of pink on her cheeks. “Yeah, it’s okay. As long as I don’t have to move.”
Conner smiled at her and nodded. “Understood.” He took in as much of her costume as he could. Orange this time with black boots and gloves, but most importantly, he could see her eyes. An incredible shade of blue that seemed more familiar than it should… He blinked a few times and focused back on the movie, her eyes were making his heart rate speed up again and he really needed to calm down.
They watched the movie for a little while before she finally spoke again. “You were right. There was an explosion. Nobody was hurt, but there was an explosion,” she admitted. This game was dangerous, she knew it was. She was daring him to figure out who she was. But at this point she wasn’t sure she cared anymore. “And we… I destroyed some… things.”
Conner chuckled and rested his chin on her head. “Yeah, us too. Does that mean we all win? Or we all lose?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure.”
“The explosion helped save someone, so I’m calling it a win. We protected someone and, you know, sometimes you need to destroy a little in order to fix something.” He looked down at her fondly. He picked up her hand with his free hand and started playing with her fingers until he realized what he was doing and let them drop. “And sometimes you have to cause a little damage to prevent more, like firefighters, you know? Set a small fire to prevent one that would destroy the entire forest. You told me that. I think you were right.”
He looked down at her expectantly. Any second now she should chuckle, at least crack a smile, tell him he should never doubt her, that she’s always right, but instead she sat up and blinked at him a few times, her face completely devoid of any emotion. She looked away absently, seeming to stare at nothing. “I’m going to lay down,” she finally said woodenly.
Conner stared at her in disbelief. His brow furrowed in surprise at the unexpected reaction. “What? Why?” What the hell just happened? She was smiling. Why was she upset again and why couldn’t he say the right things? Why did she keep hanging out with her friends if they kept doing this to her?
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She scooted to the edge of the bed and stood up.
Conner lurched forward and grabbed her wrist. “Chi, no. Just…” he paused at her reaction. She seemed to curl further away from him, like she thought his anger was directed at her. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down again, forcing his body to relax and his face to smooth out. “Just, wait… please. Stay. We don’t have to talk anymore. We’ll just watch the movie, no talking, no thinking. I’m terrible at both anyway.”
He knew he convinced her when she let out a barely audible huff. She turned back toward him. Her eyes flitted up to him for a fraction of a second and returned back to the bed next to him. She wet her lips and gave the tiniest of nods before crawling back over to him and laying her head back on his chest. Conner cautiously settled his arm around her shoulders again. He was pretty sure she needed comfort, but wasn’t sure if it was welcome from him.
She nestled further into his chest almost imperceptibly, but enough for him to notice in his hyper vigilant state. He took that as a sign he made the right call and relaxed further. He wrapped around her more, cocooning her, protecting her from whatever was going on in her head.
After a few minutes he leaned his head closer to her ear and whispered, “I really want to say what a complete idiot that guy is but I promised I wouldn’t talk.” He smiled proudly at the giggles he could feel more than hear from her.
Tags:
@mickylikesstuff @mystery-5-5 @roguishredaxion @vroomtaka @laurcad123 @just-an-observer-ignore-me @emimar7 @moonlightstar64 @maribat-writing-and-prompts @aespades @yokomisaki @glastwime859 @mysticknown @glastwime859 @fan-writtenen @stackofrandomstuff @jalaluvsu @ultimatetornshipper @charme-de-malchan @lozzybowe @deathwishy @too0bsessedformyowngood @kokotaru @ichigorose @nathleigh @dorkus-minimus @ira-sairain @jayjayspixiepop @woe-is-me0
#Capturing a Dream#maribat#connette#connorette#konmari#marikon#Marinette x Conner#conner x marinette
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MCOC Wishlist Poll Snapshot: Entire Rankings
001 Mystique 002 Quicksilver 003 Beta Ray Bill 004 Sandman 005 Adam Warlock 006 Kitty Pryde 007 Lizard 008 Morbius the Living Vampire 009 Kraven the Hunter 010 Cloak & Dagger 011 Spider-Man 2099 012 Black Cat 013 Bullseye 014 Jessica Jones 015 Ares 016 Shang-Chi 017 Gladiator (Kallark) 018 Baron Zemo 019 Lady Deathstrike 020 Enchantress 021 Valkyrie MCU 022 Knull 023 Morgan le Fay 024 Scorpion 025 Captain Britain 026 Galactus 027 Dazzler 028 Silver Samurai 029 Black Knight 030 Dracula 031 Hobgoblin 032 Pyro 033 Fantomex 034 Spider-Woman 035 Jean Grey 90s 036 Silk 037 Polaris 038 Silver Sable 039 Sif 040 Anti-Venom 041 Mister Negative 042 Crystal 043 Legion 044 Shocker 045 Malekith the Accursed 046 Destroyer Armor 047 M'baku the Man-Ape 048 The Mandarin 049 Emplate 050 Multiple-Man 051 Shuri 052 Banshee 053 Onslaught 054 Warpath 055 Sunfire 056 Cannonball 057 Dark Phoenix 058 Blue Marvel 059 Prowler (Aaron Davis) 060 Okoye 061 Mockingbird 062 Spiral 063 Madame Hydra / Viper 064 Hydro-Man 065 Red She-Hulk 066 Agent Anti-Venom 067 Blackheart 068 Gorr the God-Butcher 069 Songbird 070 Quasar 071 Absorbing Man 072 Whiplash 073 Armor 074 Daimon Hellstrom 075 Wendigo 076 Nimrod 077 Graviton 078 Gwenom 079 Deathlok 080 Firestar 081 Vulcan 082 Wonder Man 083 Selene 084 Blob 085 Klaw 086 Rachel Summers 087 Thor (MCU Stormbreaker) 088 Shadow King 089 White Tiger 090 Tombstone 091 Jack O'Lantern 092 Valkyrie Classic 093 Toad 094 Moonstone 095 Weapon H 096 Jocasta 097 Dani Moonstar 098 Monica Rambeau 099 Wolfsbane 100 Franklin Richards 101 Ancient One 102 Arnim Zola 103 Exodus 104 Forge 105 Supergiant 106 Madelyne Pryor 107 Hank Pym 108 Hawkeye (Kate Bishop) 109 Negasonic Teenage Warhead 110 Spider-Man Noir 111 Phantom Rider 112 Blink 113 Sebastian Shaw 114 Clea 115 Black Tom Cassidy 116 Kurse 117 Danger 118 Daken 119 Omega Sentinel 120 Grim Reaper 121 Radioactive Man 122 Shatterstar 123 Darkstar 124 Werewolf by Night 125 Hope Summers 126 The Magus 127 Union Jack 128 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The Buzz 606 Doctor Crocodile 607 Ox 608 Dorrek VII 609 Needle 610 Krang 611 Dino-Thor 612 Stegron 613 Zeitgeist 614 [VACANT] 615 [VACANT] 616 [VACANT]
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The Hand That Rocks the Cradle
Read on AO3 or Fanfiction.net
Chapter 1: Prologue, Chapter 2: First Impressions, Chapter 3: Stolen Glory, Chapter 4: Pawns & Princesses, Chapter 5: Scars, Chapter 6:Dissonance, Chapter 7: Frustrated, Chapter 8: Obligations, Chapter 9: Private Affair, Chapter 10: Holding on Tight, Chapter 11: Calculated Risks, Chapter 12: Charged, Chapter 13: Blue
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Chapter 14: Bonds
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A moment later, and the blue fire was gone.
Aang still stood above her in the training arena, but he’d let both the fire in his hands and eyes go out. He looked away from her as though he was ashamed. When his eyes returned her way they were softer. He extended his hand to help her up.
“I’m sorry, Azula. Are you okay?”
The care in his eyes was everything Azula wanted and also absolutely not enough. She wanted to slap his hand away. Or to take hold of it and never let go.
Not trusting herself to know which she would do, she ignored his offer and rolled to her feet on her own. “I’m fine. Of course, I’m fine.” Her voice sounded strained, even to herself.
“I need to…” Azula’s mind felt hazy, disorganized, “go.”
She knew what she needed to do.
In a rush she walked towards the door, shoulders erect and proud; like a princess, of course. But it took great effort not to run. To get away or to get where she was going—she wasn’t sure which drive was stronger.
“Azula?” She heard Aang’s voice call after her, but she ignored him. She didn’t know what she would say. For once her silver tongue felt like lead.
As she left the arena, at the last moment, Azula spared a last glance over her shoulder. She could see Aang crouching next to the waterbender, helping her up. Azula should have felt jealousy, anger, indignation. But she felt little. The waterbender didn’t matter. She would be obsolete soon; no longer her concern.
Azula rushed through the doors and into the long, regal hallways of the palace. Although she had never given in to drunkenness herself, her gait felt slanted as though she had indulged. Walking took far more concentration than it should, like so many of the idiots she’d beheld who allowed themselves to drink past their capacities, becoming loose tongued and bumbling. She felt the need to focus on each step, lest she allow the tilting hallway to get the better of her.
Azula closed her eyes tightly, willing the ground to stop tipping. But behind her eyelids all she could see was Aang, standing above her, wielding her blue fire like it belonged to him. Like he was worthy to hold it!
She stumbled once and looked angry at the lush carpets, sure that something had tripped her. But the floor was pristine; nothing was there. “Cursed floor,” she thought. A hall guard looked at her as though she had spoken. It made Azula angry. What right did he have to read her mind!
She hurried faster past the endlessly tall tapestries of her forefathers, fire blazing in their hands and in their long-dead eyes. What she wanted was a disgrace to them. To the long line of pure Agni blood in her veins.
She didn’t hesitate when she arrived outside the curtain leading to her father’s throne room. A sentry made as though he would stop her as she reached for the curtain, but one cold look from her and the guard froze, allowing her entry. Azula smiled knowing that no one else would be allowed such free access to the Firelord. No one else was as trusted.
Father looked up at her in surprise, the trio of fire sages in the room halting what they were saying. Father’s brow furrowed in annoyance, but he held his hand up to keep the sage’s silence, turning his attention to his daughter. “Princess Azula.”
Azula saw Father’s eyes dart over her body, and she realized for the first time that she was still in her training clothes. She looked down to see that not only was she inappropriately informal to address the Firelord in his throne room, but she was also covered in wet dirt from the fight. Azula was never dirty. Never a hair out of place. Realization of her unkept appearance filled her with shame.
Azula dropped to the ground in kowtow. “Father.”
Although Azula couldn’t see it from her position with her forehead to the ground, she heard the Sages begin to leave, their long robes shuffling. Father must have dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Azula smiled to herself, knowing that no one was more important in Father’s eyes than her.
“Rise, Daughter,” Ozai’s voice echoed from behind the wall of flames.
Azula stood. Father didn’t smile. “You have an urgent matter to discuss with me, Azula?”
Azula knew she would have to sell her request. She regretted not taking more time to prepare, to dress appropriately, to formulate her arguments. But she was here now, and she knew that only full confidence would do when proposing something like this to the Firelord.
“Yes, Father.”
“Is it a matter… sensitive in nature?”
“It is, Father.”
Ozai raised a hand without another word, dismissing the guards who flanked the room. Azula knew they would reposition again outside the doors, still guarding their Firelord, but no longer in earshot to hear what she had to say. Again, Azula swelled with pride knowing that Father trusted her enough to leave himself unprotected with her. He knew he could always rely on her. That she would never betray him.
“You may speak your mind, Daughter.”
For a moment, Azula’s mouth was empty, unsure how to begin her request. But she quickly regained her innate poise which filled her words with confidence. “I have a proposition to make: one that I feel will strengthen the Fire Nation, ensure our victory over our enemies, and bolster the power of our royal family.”
Ozai’s eyebrow raised intrigued, “Go on.”
“I have thought long on your intent to send the Avatar with me to the Earthlands at the end of the season.” Azula’s voice carried strong throughout the large room. “And I support your decision for the brilliant plan that it is. However, I feel that an additional hold upon the Avatar would be… beneficial, as we introduce him to the workings of the empire and the conflict inherent in the Earthlands at this time.”
Azula paused, allowing her words time to adequately resonate. Father nodded, a small smile on his lips. “And what is your proposal?”
For the first time since starting her speech, Azula’s resolve faltered. She knew once she spoke the words, she could not take them back. And far more than tactical advantage was at stake for her, depending on Father’s verdict. If he did not approve of her request, she knew she would lose more than just face.
But when she spoke her words were bold, showing no sign of her inner trepidation.
“I propose that the Avatar and I be wed. To create a more powerful union and further bind him to our family and our nation.”
The words were out. And they hung in the silence, suspended and naked. Azula could not take them back.
Ozai sat back in his throne, his face shrouding with the loss of light from the wall of fire. He brought one hand to his goatee in thought.
“You have thought through all the implications of this request?” Ozai finally asked. “A royal marriage is binding, unbreakable.”
“I am aware,” Azula answered, her mind unwittingly calling up images of Mother: a woman banished, disgraced, but technically still married to her father.
Her father hummed in thought. Azula knew it was far from an approval, but the simple fact that Ozai had not rejected the prospect flatly filled her with yearning.
“The Avatar is powerful,” Ozai said. Azula noted the way they both referred to Aang by his title, distancing themselves from any emotional biases his name might bring to the discussion of tactics. “The two of you would make a couple of unparalleled might. I admit that I have considered the match myself.” At this Azula’s heart leapt involuntarily, hope battering away unhelpfully inside her chest. If Father had considered a betrothal between her and Aang already, then it must be viable!
“And he is still highly influenceable,” Ozai continued. “As you know, Azula, chains can be a challenge—an easy one to get out of, if one is resourceful. For someone like the Avatar, it is important to keep him shackled in mindsets, which are much harder to break than simple chains.” She had heard Father speak this way before—this had been one of his original arguments for bringing Aang to the palace in the first place—and she agreed with his wisdom. But she didn’t quite follow why Father was speaking about chains in a discussion of matrimony.
Or did she? Didn’t she propose the prospect of marriage to Aang with this very purpose in mind? To bind him to her wholly, unbreakably? So that he would grow to feel for her what she already felt for him?
“How could I be assured that marital relations,” the words were thick with implication, “would not cloud your judgement if drastic measures became… unavoidable?” Azula thought of their discussion last night; of what Ozai expected her to do with her Cold Fire if the Avatar became too problematic.
Azula assuaged his concerns. “My loyalty will always be to our nation, Father, and to you first and foremost. You know that nothing could obscure my judgement in this regard.”
Ozai hummed, considering her answer.
No mention was made by either her or the Firelord of sentiment, of affection. Azula never anticipated there would be. Sentiment had no place in discussions of marriage among the royal family. Azula had never thought for a moment that when she married it would be for love. Even now she tried to ignore her true motives for making this request.
As Ozai continued to ponder silently, Azula found it difficult to breathe, the anticipation strangling her. After a long thoughtful moment her father finally spoke, “I see the brilliance of a marriage such as this. However,” Azula leaned forward, her breath having stopped all together, “I fear a union of this nature would be… imprudent.”
Ozai’s words hit Azula like a slap to the face. Her hope fizzling like a hot coal dropped into water.
“Privileged as he is here, we cannot ignore that the boy is… of inferior blood, an Air Nomad. A bastard who never knew his own parents—his people having cared nothing for pedigree. To mingle our purity with him would be… heretical. A taint in our family line that could never be weeded out.”
Azula had considered this. To debase herself enough to marry an Air Nomad would be disgraceful. But this is where her affection began to override her logic. She desired him. And she simply could not will away his lineage. Of course she didn’t prefer that he was from a lesser nation, but it had become something she was willing to accept.
“It is a well known fact that my heir must be a firebender,” Azula spoke, her voice carrying in the empty room. “Agni forbids a non-bender, or a child of Air, from taking the Burning Throne.” Azula had already considered this possible complication. “But I can assure a firebending heir; we both know there are ways.” No more needed to be said. Her meaning was clear to both of them.
If a Firebender could not be produced with Aang, there were other ways to get what Agni required. It was her blood after all that was royal. And Royals of the past had gone to far greater lengths to assure their heirs were graced with the Touch of Agni. What’s more, if it was done discretely, Aang need never know.
Azula continued, “Perhaps the advantages, the assurances, this betrothal could provide would merit special consideration. After all, Aang is the Avatar. A firebender. And perhaps, over time, history could be persuaded to forget his unfortunate parentage.” Azula knew the words were dangerous; a radical idea that could bring down the wrath of her father upon her. “Royals of the past have done as much for far lesser reward,” she finished.
Azula expected her father to be displeased, for the Burning Throne to erupt now with his anger. But to her delight, instead he sat forward, his face in the light once more. A smile graced Ozai’s lips.
He echoed simply, “For a far lesser reward.”
……………..
“Aang, my son, welcome!”
Aang entered into the Burning Throne Room a little apprehensively.
He hated this room.
Aang had been brought here his first day out of prison to meet his “new father.” He’d barely been able to see Firelord Ozai above the flames, and the heat in the room had felt unbearable.
It was then that he’d been informed about the extinction of his people. Ozai had come down from his throne and put on a hand on his shoulder as he broke the news. Aang remembered dropping to the floor with grief, struggling to keep the terrible thrashing power of the Avatar at bay within himself. He’d seen the tattoos on his hands flash from white to blue, to white, and then blue again. But he had fought it! He knew what he’d done before in the bay—all the people he’d killed, all the destruction—so he’d fought for control with everything he’d had! Finally his tattoos had stopped flashing, and he’d collapsed panting on the tile floor. He remembered the coldness of the floor on his cheek, a stark contrasted to the heat from the flames drying the sweat on his skin.
There had been a commotion in the room when the Avatar State had threatened to overcome him; the guards having gathered around, their weapons pointed toward him. But Ozai hadn’t moved. He’d stood over Aang with a hungry calculation in his eye. To this day, Aang is not sure why he hadn’t run.
Despite how much Aang hated this room, he walked confidently forward, with his shoulders erect, the points of his pompous cape faced skyward.
But as he approached the burning dais, he could tell right away this was no ordinary summons. Aang saw that twelve Fire Sages stood in front of the flames, six on either side. Both sides of the cavernous room held a collection of the Firelord’s counselors and advisors, seated as witnesses; he picked out Counselor Zhao’s face. Azula was here already, kneeling on the ground before the Burning Throne as though she had just finished her kowtow.
He didn’t know why he was here beyond the fact that Ozai had summoned him. But whatever it was, it seemed to be a big deal. No wonder Counselor Zhao had bustled and clucked, insisting Aang wear his best formal wear.
As Aang moved to join Azula, his eyes involuntarily glanced toward the foremost pillar in the room, the one closest to the Burning Throne. He could see the chains still hanging there.
Aang rubbed his forearm trying to will away the panic the chains stoked within him. I’m not here for re-education. He told himself. Not this time. He took a deep breath to will away his anxiety, forcing his hands to be still.
Aang arrived at the front of the room, every eye on him. He knelt down next to Azula and put his forehead to the cold tile. “Father,” he said deferentially.
“Welcome, my son!” Ozai said again, giving Aang permission to raise his head.
Aang glanced at Azula. She sent him a sidelong look, a small smile on her lips. Aang had worried that she would be furious about their fight in the arena earlier today; he’d never meant to be so rough. He was relieved she didn’t seem to be angry at him.
But then again, Aang had never been very good at reading his sister, as though the world he saw and the one she saw were fundamentally not the same.
“Agni has blessed our family this day!” Ozai’s voice rang out loud for all to hear. “Agni has blessed me, His chosen vessel, with a revelation. A revelation that will shower down blessings upon our family, our nation, even upon the whole world!”
The optimism in Ozai’s voice made Aang nervous.
Ozai looked down on Aang from the Burning Throne. “Avatar Aang, I have treated you as a son for all these years. And now it is time for you to become a true member of the Royal Family.”
Aang’s mind grasped for what Ozai might be referring to. A ritual? Or a legal adoption? Aang remained on his knees, listening quietly while fighting the urge to fidget; he was concerned that he didn’t know where this was going. He had learned through painful experience that ignorance was rarely treated kindly here in the fire palace.
Ozai stood from his throne and brought his hands together in front of him, parting the flames as he walked down towards his children.
The Firelord’s arms spread wide for all to hear. “It is time for my daughter, the Crown Princess Azula, to marry!”
A low rumble rippled through the assembly as the witnesses took in the news. Aang was surprised; he hadn’t heard Azula mention anything about any marriage prospects.
Aang glanced at Azula. A smirk was on her lips, although she avoided his eye, a light blush coloring her cheeks. A feeling of insecurity began to grow within Aang. He was happy for her, he supposed. But what did her marriage have to do with him becoming a true member of the…?
Oh no.
Aang’s stomach felt sick. He couldn’t possibly mean..?
Aang couldn’t bring himself to glance at Azula a second time. He usually looked to her for guidance on what to do in situations like this. But a terrible heat was rising in his face, and he couldn’t look at her, afraid that she might confirm what he feared.
Ozai opened his arms above the kneeling forms of Azula and Aang, bidding them to rise. They both stood, their capes falling in lush waves behind them. Ozai held out both his hands towards them. Azula and Aang each placed a hand in one of their father’s.
Aang wanted to object! To tell the Firelord that he had this wrong! That he would never make a good husband for Azula. That they would never be happy together. That he loved someone else… But he knew he could never give voice to any of these objections. Not here. Not in front of all of these people. Probably not anywhere.
Aang felt a consuming hollowness begin to erode slowly inside him. As a boy, Aang had once found a beautiful iguana-moth laying on the ground. It was large and lovely, looking like it might take flight any moment. But as Aang had approached, the creature had stayed impeccably still. Closer inspection revealed that the iguana-moth was hollow. A parasite had invaded the poor creature and eaten it from the inside. The iguana-moth looked perfect, but all that had remained was its outer, empty shell.
Ozai lifted their two hands high so that all could see them, then he brought their hands together. The action turned Aang and Azula to face one another. Aang’s mouth was dry. So dry he could hardly swallow.
The Firelord’s voice range out again. “As Agni has decreed, tonight I announce the betrothal of my daughter, the Crown Princess Azula to Avatar Aang. Their union will be sealed forever, adding to the glory of this house, the House of Agni!”
A loud murmur rumbled through the crowd, but it quickly fell silent. Azula looked up at Aang then, triumph shining in her golden eyes.
“Through the union of these, my children,” Ozai placed a hand on each of their shoulders turning them to face the audience, Aang and Azula’s hands still linked, “Agni will continue to raise up rulers for His chosen nation. To guide and protect not just this nation alone, but the whole world!”
As if on cue, the sages all raised their hands to the sky and began to pray, a chant that echoed with the sound of many voices. Soon the spectators in the audience joined in on the chant, raising their hands as well. “Agni be praised! Glory to our Firelord, Agni’s chosen vessel. And glory to the continuation of his family’s seed, forever and ever!”
Aang stared out at them, hollow. A perfect empty shell.
……………..
The rest of the betrothal ceremony was a blur. Aang stood before all those people, his hand in Azula’s, the chants, the heat, his own sweat dripping down his back—all of it felt like it was happening to someone else.
He wished it was happening to someone else.
At some point during the chants, the Firelord placed his hands upon their shoulders once more, beckoning for the two of them to follow him through the fire. They retreated with Ozai onto the dais of the Burning Throne—deities going back to the firmament.
Aang had never been on top of the Burning Throne before. He looked down on the witnesses below like a god looking down from a burning sky. The three of them stood regally upon the dais for another moment, praises still echoing off the vaulted walls and ceiling, before Ozai turned and led Azula and Aang through an exit between the pillars.
The praises were immediately muffled when the heavy black curtain fell behind them. Aang found himself in a small, private room richly adorned in scarlet colored velvets. Gold tassels ornamented the plush seating, matching an enormous gold-gilded mirror hanging on one wall.
Ozai stood in front of the mirror and looked at his children’s reflection in it, a satisfied smile on his lips. “Well done, my children! This announcement will no doubt cause quite the stir among the nobility. But I’m sure with this ceremony, backed by the sages, your betrothal will quickly be accepted without dissent. We can begin making plans to expedite the wedding in time for you two to leave for the Earth Kingdom as planned at the end of the season.”
Aang felt a protest crawl dryly up this throat. “Father, are you sure…?”
Fire leaped in Ozai’s golden eyes—eyes so very like his daughter’s—as his face whipped angrily towards Aang. Fear rippled through Aang, a child’s involuntary shudder. And the words died on his tongue.
But Ozai’s demeanor softened somewhat when he turned fully towards his surrogate son. He placed a hand on the back of Aang’s neck comfortingly as he spoke to him. “I am sure, Aang. A marriage between you and Azula is wise and will bring great blessings to not only our family and the Fire Nation, but to the whole world. Thus far you have only borrowed our good name. But think of the good you can do for the world when you hold true political sway in the most powerful nation in the world? You and your children, and your children’s children, will have the power to bring peace and prosperity to all, for generations to come.”
Aang swallowed thickly, his throat so, so dry. Tears stung at his eyes, but he had long learned to control such things. Crying was disgraceful in the Fire Nation, and emotion was weakness. He simply stood, stone faced.
Ozai did not wait for Aang to respond, expecting his words to be accepted wholeheartedly without question. He turned to leave the small sitting room. As he opened the door, he turned towards his children one last time, the softness in his voice gone. “I have decided. And what I decide is Right.”
Then Ozai exited. The loss of his commanding presence left the room deflated.
Aang stood motionless. Ozai’s last words echoed inside him with the finality of a heavy stone lid sliding onto an urn.
It was decided. And it would be. Ozai’s word was law.
It wasn’t until Aang heard the swish of Azula’s cape being removed and flung onto a chair that he was reminded that he wasn’t alone. “Ugh, the pomp and circumstance of these ceremonies is always so tedious!” Azula denounced with a dramatic sigh. “But the laymen must be appeased I suppose.”
She said the words with her usual derision, superiority dripping in her tone. But there was something in her demeanor that was off. She was watching Aang carefully. Gauging his response. Aang got the distinct impression that she was nervous.
Aang kept his eyes averted. He had no idea what to say.
Aang wondered what Azula thought of this new “arrangement.” She didn’t, at least, appear surprised. So she must have known about it beforehand.
“Come now, Aang, say something! You act as though you’re waiting in line for execution.” Again her voice was teasing, but underneath he heard… what? Vulnerability?
But still Aang had no idea what to say. He couldn’t very well admit that he felt like he was in line for execution. He looked at his feet, still rooted to the same spot he’d been since entering the room.
He felt Azula approach him. She took his hand. His gut reaction was to pull away. But Aang had spend years ignoring his gut. So he let her. “Come now, Aang. Surely you can see what a cunning and brilliant plan this is.” When he finally looked at his sister, he saw that she was blushing, avoiding his eye.
But her coyness quickly disappeared as she placed herself squarely in front of him, her body very close. Her eyes glimmered greedily at him. “One day I will be Firelord. And you and I will be the most powerful couple in the world!” She pulled on his hand, bringing him against her. She tipped her face up to his, her eyes burning. “Can’t you feel the power between us? Don't you want it?! You heard what Father said.” Azula looked down in uncharacteristic shyness, a blush coloring her porcelain features. “You can kiss me now, Aang.”
Aang's eyes unfocused as his stunned mind struggled to keep up, to figure out what to do. Azula had beauty, power, intelligence and poise—most men would sell their souls to marry her. But Aang was not ‘most men,’ and his soul never belonged to him anyway. And now it had been sold. Sold to Azula. Irrevocably.
Despairing, Aang’s thoughts inevitably turned to Katara. To the beautiful lie he’d been living imagining that he could actually be with the one he truly loved. It had felt so real. But in the end it had always been nothing more than an illusion. He could feel his dream of being with Katara slipping through his grasping fingers, being swallowed up in the hollow emptiness of his new reality.
Aang’s eyes moved sluggishly to his own reflection in the great, gilded mirror. He looked ashen. Like a shadow. He felt disconnected from himself, as though the reflection was more himself than the man standing in his own body.
Azula tugged on his hand, drawing his gaze back to her. Her golden eyes flashed dangerously. “Didn’t you hear me, Aang? I said, ‘kiss me!’”
Aang closed his eyes and swallowed. His thoughts returned to what Gyatso had taught him about fragmenting—about doing something with his his body that he didn’t do with his mind and heart. He knew that if he were to kiss her, he would be doing that with Azula. Because as much as he did care for her, love her even, he was not in love with her. And he didn’t know if he ever could be.
But physical intimacy wasn’t the only way to fragment oneself. Hadn’t he been fragmenting himself already for years? Every time he fought, every time he sat with the Fire Sages pretending to meditate, every time he called Ozai “Father?”
Thus Aang closed his eyes and locked his heart away. He forced himself to lean into Azula with his body, circling her trim waist in his hands as she pulled his mouth eagerly toward her own.
………….
Aang opened the door to his room woodenly. He felt leaden. Dead. Like the last merry spark inside him had finally been snuffed out.
He froze at the open door. His lamps were lit. His glazed eyes struggled to focus again as he forced himself to see.
Captain Li stood at attention in his room, Katara standing chained and blindfolded next to him. In his distraction Aang had forgotten Katara would be here tonight. He was late. How long had she had to wait for him? The answer seemed unimportant.
Aang’s mind cranked rustily, his thoughts hard to process. Counselor Zhao had been at the announcement this evening. Didn’t he think this inappropriate given the announcement? Maybe Zhao had neglected to inform the captain, who had been overseeing these visits for some time now, about the engagement. Or maybe he didn’t think it would change anything. Aang was too tired to muster disgust at this whole twisted society.
Aang’s drunken-yet-painfully-sober eyes looked at Katara. She stood in chains, yes, but what of his own?
Not all chains are visible.
Perhaps this is what he deserved? Karma for running away when he was a boy. For killing all those people in the bay. The Firelord had been merciful to him, good to him. Who else would invite a murderer to live in his home, treating him as their own child? Aang felt trapped, but maybe bondage is what he deserved.
Aang motioned minutely with his head, and Captain Li left the room.
Aang looked darkly at Katara again. She was beautiful and kind and good. He wanted her. He could have her too, tonight if he wished. He could finally take what he wanted. He couldn’t choose where he lived, what he did, or even who he married. He couldn’t seem to control one single thing in his life. But he could have her. Tonight.
His body wanted her. Aang walked over to her, lifting his hand. Silently he took off Katara’s blindfold.
Her blue eyes looked up at him. She smiled.
And Aang’s heart broke.
Because he knew that “taking” her that way would never make her his. Sure, he could taste her body, pleasure himself with her beauty. But what he had fallen in love with was her spirit. And he would never have that. Someone like Katara, despite her chains, was free in ways he would never be.
Aang had seen the way Azula was dominated by Ozai, and how in response she had dominated Mai and Ty Lee. Suddenly he understood that desire. To not just take it, but to dish it out as well. But just as suddenly, this new understanding made him sick. He couldn’t be like that. He wouldn’t.
Aang averted his eyes from her as he quietly worked to unlock her shackles. He felt shame at his thoughts. Of course he would never force himself on her. The thought sickened him. What was wrong with him? The desperation he’d been feeling since his engagement to Azula began to be all consuming, like a disease spreading throughout him.
He never should have left the Air Temple as a child. Even if he would have died from the same plague that killed all the other Air Nomads… Maybe he could have found a cure? Or at the very least died a free boy among those he loved. Among those who loved him.
Katara watched him carefully, no doubt confused by his sullen silence. He turned away from her. She has been the one bright spot in his life these past months. But where had he really thought things would go with her? Somewhere happy? Had he actually been a big enough fool to imagine so? Or an even bigger fool to truly hope? Of course for him, falling in love would only lead to heartbreak. He didn’t deserve love.
Aang stalked toward his bed, ripping his ridiculous cape off and dropping it on the floor.
Azula loved him. She’d as much as admitted it, although not in so many words. And he cared about Azula, he wanted her to be happy. But she was cruel. And manipulative. She wanted from Aang what she could not force from him. She couldn’t make him love her.
But Aang knew he was no better. He glanced at Katara with a pang of longing—Aang was no more likely to get what he wanted than his sister.
Aang began to tear off his formal wear—the armor, the sashes, the spirits-forsaken wide-sleeved robe—and threw them all into heaps.
“Aang?”
He felt his eyes prickle at the sound of his name on her tongue. It made him ache.
Aang unclasped the buckles on his high upturned boots and yanked them off.
A flare of irrational anger towards Katara spiked within him. This was really her fault! Aang knew that something had changed in Azula this morning, after fighting with Katara. And now he was engaged to the Crown Princess! Why hadn’t Katara listened to him when he’d begged her not to fight?!
He flung the boot in his hand hard against the wall with a growl!
Katara stood very still, watching him.
Suddenly Aang’s anger evaporated. His shoulders sagged, his whole body all at once feeling very heavy.
He knew he couldn’t blame Katara. Had the fight this morning pushed Azula over some limit? Perhaps. But if Azula had wanted to marry Aang, then it would have happened sooner or later anyway.
Azula always got what she wanted.
“Aang?” Katara asked again, concern clear in her voice.
Aang tried to push the tears away, but he felt his chin crumple. He sat heavily on the side of his bed, tunneling his fingers into his hair. They caught in his topknot, so he yanked roughly at the small golden flame tying his bun. He wanted to throw it, but instead he brought it down to look at it, fingering the golden emblem. Eventually he tossed it resignedly into one of the heaps of his clothes on the floor.
He glanced at Katara, trying and failing to give her a half-smile.
“Um… sorry about all of that.” He motioned half-heartedly to the clothes he’d strewn about in his tantrum. “I just, um…” but words failed him and he felt his hands rub roughly at his forearms. He tried to make himself stop, but he couldn’t. He closed his eyes tight to keep the tears from falling.
Aang felt a weight settle next to him on the bed. He opened his eyes to see Katara sitting next to him, her beautiful face full of worry, of care. Without a word she opened her arms and as if by some unseen pull, Aang found himself drawn unwittingly into her embrace.
Aang held onto Katara, burying his head in the space on her chest beneath her chin, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist. And for a time, he let go of reality. He imagined that the two of them were free and Elsewhere. That he could simply feel what he felt for her. In his dream, she loved him too.
The beauty of the image cut him deeply. He knew this cut would likely scar him for the rest of his days—a wish for what could have been, that would haunt him forever.
The unattainableness of it brought a rumbling sob from deep within him. And then another. He turned his face in towards Katara and gripped her closer to him. She ran her hands through his hair and rubbed his back gently, hugging his head and shoulders to her. She spoke kind words, some of which he didn’t understand—what language was that?—but his soul knew what she was saying. “It’s okay. It’ll all be alright. I’ve got you.”
They were all lies of course—she didn’t even know what had happened—but he let himself believe them like he was a small boy in Gyatso’s arms. He knew he would lose Katara. Like he had lost Gyatso. Never to be had again. But he was here now. And Katara was here now. And he wasn’t going to squander it just because it could never be again.
Aang breathed into the moment. And let his love for Katara fill him to the brim. He let the sorrow and happiness spill over with his tears.
Aang wanted to pull back and kiss Katara—kiss her like he’d kissed her on the rooftop just last night!
But Aang could still feel Azula on his lips—a sanctioned kiss that had felt like cheating. And now, no matter how right it would feel, kissing Katara really would be cheating. His reality and his feelings were so at odds with one another, twisted and turned inside out. So Aang just clutched Katara harder, as though she could keep his world from spiraling.
This would be the last time he’d hold her. He knew he could no longer bring her to his room, to talk and laugh and play games. If Azula found out it would be disastrous. Already, just having her here tonight was dangerous. There would be no more of these escapes from reality, living out wishes that were damned before they started.
Aang cried for a long time. And Katara held him. He took comfort from her ever-giving embrace. She didn’t ask him questions, but still she shared the burden of his pain. Eventually his sobs ran dry.
“Thank you, Katara,” he whispered weakly.
She answered by pulling his head back and brushing his hair back from his forehead gently with her hand. The look she gave him was so tender it stole his breath. Her silent look asked him, but he didn’t have words to answer. Not tonight.
Aang knew it was wrong not to tell her about his engagement. But he just couldn’t bear to say the words out loud. The Air Nomads had believed that voice—the wind emanating from deep within—had the power to make Truth. Aang knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t shake the superstition that somehow saying the words—I’m engaged to Princess Azula—would make it more real than it already was.
But thinking about Azula brought Aang back to reality. And the danger he was playing with.
“You better go,” Aang said with more regret than she would ever know.
Katara nodded. Aang could see the confusion, the hurt in her eyes. But even though she did not understand, she trusted him anyway. She placed a sweet kiss on his cheek before turning shyly away and preparing to go. Aang’s hand covered his cheek as if he could trap the feeling of her lips there forever.
As with times past, Aang very gently put her restraints back into place. With each click of the chains on her wrists and ankles, he felt the weight clamp on his own hands and feet. Last of all the blindfold: with the closing of her eyes, he closed his own heart.
Then, however, because he couldn’t stop himself, Aang enfolded Katara in a last desperate hug, his hand cupping her blindfolded head to his chest. She couldn’t put her arms around him, because of her chains, but she leaned into him, nuzzling his neck. His face crumpled in a silent sob again, but he hid it from her. I love you, Katara. The same superstition kept him from saying the words out loud; like somehow keeping the words inside could make them no longer true.
Last minute Aang remembered, and took something from his desk. Putting the note in her hand he said, “I almost forgot, someone gave this to me to give to you. I meant to give it to you this morning, but… well, things happened and I got distracted…” Katara nodded and put the note blindly in her pocket.
Katara left then, escorted away by Captain Li. Aang achingly watched her go until they rounded the corner and he couldn’t see her anymore. Then he shut his door and turned back to what he’d always had to hold onto before she’d entered his life.
And Nothing welcomed him with her ever expansive arms.
………………
Continue reading the Next Chapter
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idris elba . cis male . he/him . wasn’t that sentry walking the palace grounds ? it’s nice to see the princess' guard out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they notoriously disengaged, whilst also managing to be quite collected. the forty-five year old is eager to find out who exactly is behind the killings from what’s being said at court. i heard that they themselves are vrajiit ( vector manipulation ). it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of hot lemon tea against a fogged window, the sharp exhale and winded jolt of air forced from your chest, the scent of burnt sage and wood carried over stone floors. great to see the warden around, isn’t it ?
about.
name: sentry. age: forty-five. status: princess’ guard. positive traits: collected, easy-going & resourceful. negative traits: disengaged, detached & secretive. alignment: true neutral. temperament: phlegmatic. mbti: tbd.
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among the forgotten and forsaken, the mardune family did its best in the wastes of wenchinka to make a living. arris mardune worked alongside his parents, hands buried in soil and splintered wood in attempt to make the land yield more than it was capable, farm the land with rotted roots and received little coin for the fruitless efforts. it was a humble living, small meals to fill their bellies but always a warm hearth and roof over their heads to greet them home. arris had higher ambitions, or at least he wanted to sleep without as any many pangs of hunger, with more comforts-- and with each complaint his mother chided him to not let his dreams become too rich for reality. decent living wasn’t unreasonable so arris took matters on his own.
his parents thanked the gods when more money and food showed at their table, willingly turned a blind eye to their son sneaking out in the dregs of the night and disappearing from his his labor with satchels of stolen goods. but they were golden memories of comfort, an easier living with less pains of a dead land, and restful nights without growls to wake him from sleep. all golden memories fade, or are soured with time. arris’ golden memories were tainted with being caught with an armful of measly trinkets that could be barely pawned for coin and a loaf of bread.
grabbed and pulled from either limb, arris fought back--- he pushed back with a force invisible yet attached to the physical world. while he had hoped the discovery of his abilities would scare authorities away from him, it only angered them more and they pursued. begging his parents for protection, for them to leave, it was then they chose to notice their son’s theft and demanded explanation, demanded reprimand for the men pounding at their door. their sudden shock and anger didn’t save them from the ambush, nor did it save them the blows. the last mardune escaped with heavy wounds and fled-- but the boy died before he reached the edges of crysala.
when sentry arrived in trasnavda, he immediately sought out the academy and without question began service after training. serving as a man at arms, sentry was a naturally talented tactician with a mindset of incorporating defensive skills in offensive strikes that provided an advantage in the battlefield and off ( his capabilities were just an additional edge in understanding such practice) .
for twenty-five years he served in vrajiit army, but the thrills of a war games were waning with each passing moon. sentry withdrew from battle and traded his skillset for that of protection for the throne. for the past three years, it has been a proclaimed easier life but certainly one with greater risk he is happy to take on.
#warborn.intro#what fault of mine most nearly resembles the one i am about to criticize || sentry; headcanons
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