#this being brought to you by reading atla fics lately

[jaguarys]

One of my biggest pet peeves is reading a fic where a character has a scar or a disability or something like that and the writer is like "even though they are SO FUCKING UGLY because of their disability EVEN THOUGH IT'S SO UGLY aw shipping SO and SO STILL [somehow] FINDS THEM ATTRACTIVE"

[theoncelee]

Hi @quillsandtypos!! I was your Squealing Santa this year! I’m so so sorry this is a few days late,, I hope you still enjoy it :)

Snowy Days & Shirked Duties

Fandom: ATLA

Characters: Zuko and Aang

Warnings: This is a tickle fic. If you don’t like tickling don’t read it. I think that’s it this is all fluff.

Summary: Zuko wakes Aang up for his daily firebending lesson, but Aang is having none of it. Silliness ensues.

In a weird freak weather incident, it had snowed overnight in the area where the gaang had set up camp. Zuko didn’t mind, he ran hot anyways so his morning meditation in the snow was quite calming. Aang however didn’t find the same serenity when Zuko woke him up for their regular fire bending lessons.

“Aw come on Zuko, it’s a snow day! Can’t we just skip the training today?” He groaned.

“You think the fire lord is taking a rest just because it snowed? Get up” came Zuko’s unbothered reply. Groaning and grumbling the whole way, Aang finally managed to roll out of his bedroll and make his way to their usual training spot with Zuko. As Zuko began explaining the move they’d be practicing that day, Aang felt Zuko’s words slowly drift off into a low mumbling as he lost all focus on the lesson, preferring instead to look at the snow, still falling from the sky in magical sparkles. It was breathtaking, the way it drifting slowly, finding its rest on top of tents, in their hair, on their-

“…Aang? You listening?” Zuko paused in his lecture upon seeing Aangs glassy-eyed stare into the distance. Aang blinked up at him, startled, like he’d forgotten he was there.

“Aang, you have to focus. If you’re not disciplined in your studies, then you’ll have no chance against the fi-“ WHUMP. Suddenly, Zuko felt a cold, wet, lump of snow hit him square in the face. Wiping the snow from his eyes with an exasperated “AANG” Zuko found himself gathering a snowball of his own. Something about the young avatar brought out a playful side that Zuko hadn’t even realized he had. Given the circumstances of his childhood, he hadn’t been able to let loose and be a bit silly in a long time, not since his mother anyways. Perhaps it was this longing to experience playfulness in the last years of his dwindling childhood that had him chasing Aang over the snow covered hilltop with a snowball in hand, leaving the lesson in the dust. The two ran around and around the clearing, throwing snowball after snowball and falling into fits of childlike giggles, their bright smiles melting the snow off their faces. Floating on a gust of air, Aang suddenly leapt over Zuko and dropped a snowball directly down his shirt. Zuko gasped in mock offense and wheeled around, grabbing Aang and tackling him to the ground. He started swiping snow over Aang, giggling and shouting “yeah? how’s that feel now huh?”. Aang, in a last ditch attempt to save himself from snowy demise, launched his fingers into Zuko’s armpits and wiggled. Bingo. The usually stoic firebender immediately flipped over into a fit of high pitched uncharacteristically soft titters, squealing and batting at Aang’s hands. He hadn’t even realized he was still ticklish, he hadn’t been tickled at all since his mother and he’d just assumed he grew out of it. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he definitely had not. It was agonizing, he wanted to get out, needed it to stop…but it was also…kinda nice? In a way? It felt good to just…let loose. Laugh. Let himself feel without worrying how it would look or what others would think. Let his tough guy façade drop and reveal what had always been there underneath: a teenager who just needed a little love and joy.

“Cancel our firebending lesson and this aaaalll stops” Aang teased, now using little gusts of wind to graze Zuko’s neck and ears in combination with the incessant drilling of his fingers in the prince’s underarms and ribs. The conflicting sensations were driving Zuko closer to the brink of insanity, but at this point he didn’t care. He was being driven wild, and he kind of loved it.

“NEHEHEVEHEHER” he cried, no longer sure if his answer was because he truly believed the lessons to be important or because he didn’t want the tickling to stop. The onslaught continued on for a bit before Zuko felt a mischievous streak of his own bubble up to the surface. In one swift motion, he completely reversed their positions and began wiggling his fingers all over Aangs tummy. The young avatar immediately collapsed into the sweetest little giggles Zuko had ever heard, and he would be lying if he said it wasn’t downright adorable.

“Aww does it tickle? If you want all this to stop, just agree to do today’s firebending lesson. That’s all it’ll take”. But the squirming boy beneath his fingers seemed to be paying escape no mind. He wasn’t even pushing at Zuko’s hands. He was just laying there, taking it. Maybe he needed to laugh like this. To act like the child he truly was for once, in the face of all the responsibility that had been thrust upon him. Zuko needed this, too. He was only a couple years older than Aang and had had been dealt a truly despicable hand. Perhaps they stayed up on that hill, playing in the snow having the most epic tickle war of all time until the rest of the gaang woke up. Oh well. There was always tomorrow for that firebending lesson. Morale is important too.

[writer-rider-flirty-thirties]

Your ATLA posting has brought me joy! And also makes me wonder, do you have any zutara fic recs? Perchance? 🥺

Omg!!! Thank you And I'm so glad. 🥰 I love the show and my love for Zutara knows no bounds! Lol.

As for recs, I haven't been reading a lot lately (in any fandom) so I don't have many (and some are E that I can link in the replies if you want them) but here are ones I remember being absolute bangers:

(forgive me: most of them are from ffn.net and years old lol. Once I start reading more on AO3 I'll come back and rec those too!)

The series says E but most of the fics are not. It's a classic so I wouldn't be surprised if you already know of it! (I originally read it on ffn.net)

Such a good play off of the Ember Island Players

My favorite fic that incorporates the LoK! Also pregnancy! It has one sequel.

So good!!! Such a good mix of Avatar and The Hunger Games (there's sequels for this one!) warning: it does follow the Hunger Games format so there's death and blood and sadness but I think it's so good!

Let me know if you want more!

[haejjoon]

AHHHHHHHH this is a bit late but i just have to say that i love your blog so much??? The fic? Emaculate. The fanart? Spectacular. The discussion and points brought up? Scratches that itch in my brain.

And god that new chapter was amazing like the changing clothes scene? Amazing. Its such a cool way of adding Lore tm to the outfit mechanic in game (i wish everyday that goro had a swimsuit outfit for me to equip :")) Ann casually being a firebender? Stunning. That sojiro and goro scene? Broke my fucking heart. I can't thank you enough for the brainworms you have fed me i feel like you characterised both coffee dad and pancake son so well. The whole goro lashing out and when it doesn't go the way it normally goes and he starts panicking due to someone actually fucking caring for him? Broke my heart, hit close to home. And i love how you wrote sojiro as well??? Like a sojiro who really is so kind and caring but has regrets and mistakes but still tries his damn hardest to care for people who need it the most? Idk man i love sojiro's character and his confidant story like it made him a character whom i actually would love to just have a coffee and chat with in real life anyways wonderful amazing job

(Also how is the akira confidant gonna go? Are the boys still going to get their homoerotic weirdly domestic trauma dumping bath scene 👀)

AW HELLO!! WELCOME TO BRAINWORM HELL i'm glad you like my work so much i hide my face in my hands <3

the changing clothes scene was so fun for me to write. actually--originally, it was supposed to be ann changing her metaverse outfit altogether (since she's clearly shown to be uncomfortable in her current one) and i was just going to leave it at that, but... it felt like i'd be pandering, if that makes sense? i want every lore change in ex machina to feel like it's Important, like it really matters. if i started changing things just because i wanted to willy nilly it'd quickly devolve into an entirely different story altogether. (rest assured though ann Will have an outfit change, it'll just be at the right moment + right explanation)

ann being a firebender is such a neat way to put it actually HELP the most she can do right now is summon fire to her palms--she's kind of like a human lighter, if that makes sense? she can individually set her fingers and her entire hand on fire if she concentrates, but she can't throw it around like zuko might in atla (.. not yet, anyway).

i'm glad you liked the sojiro scene. it's one i'll always keep near and dear to my heart. i'm aware that ex machina isn't... an easy read, by any means, considering how little it sugarcoats the issues brought forth in p5's plot, but i don't want it to be an easy read. i want people to consume it and take time to digest it. if they want something more lighthearted this isn't it--though i'm sure i'll end up writing something sillier in the future. (been playing around with a no powers/college university au in my head, it isn't the most inspired but shenanigans r cute...)

sojiro, at his core, is a kind man. i read it somewhere on tumblr or twitter, but it's very telling that out of all the social stats you can build when hanging out with him, it's kindness. logically, proficiency makes more sense--you're learning the tools of the trade, you're building a skillset that'll no doubt serve you well into the future--but you get kindness. because sojiro sakura is a kind, kind man. it's important, and it must be established clearly. i'm glad i executed it well enough <3

(HAH OF COURSE THEY'LL GET THEIR BATH SCENE. making it my personal mission to make every hangout even more homoerotic than canon already depicts--i don't know if you saw it underneath the absolute ocean of asks littering my page, but i drew out their rank 1 hangout + their subsequent call. it was a lot of fun. check it out if you haven't <3)

as always, thank you for such a lovely conversation. seriously, what a way to kick off my morning. i'm gna be in such a good mood for the rest of the day--i hope you have a great one, as well!

[inhonoredglory]

ROTT: hot takes 🔥 (spoilers)

I wrote the following last Thursday, before my fandom life was waylaid by birthday shindigs for my sister and a weekend of migraines and nausea/fainting because of the COVID vaccine. I feel so out of touch w/ fandom but here’s my late but initial thoughts to ROTT if anyone’s interested LOL

––––––

DAMN SON.

DAMN.

I saw Trollhunters: Rise of the Titans last night. Before I launch into the fandom again, I’mma share my unfiltered thoughts.

ThAT oPEnING. HOLY SHIT. It was exhilarating. Seeing all of Tales of Arcadia rush past me in 3 minutes was awesomesauuuuuce.

but guYS GUYS lemme tell you the

✨✨ABSOLUTE✨✨

✨✨✨UTTER✨✨✨

✨✨✨✨✨HIGHLIGHT✨✨✨✨✨

✨✨✨✨✨✨of MY LIFE✨✨✨✨

////oh gODS////

hearing Douxie say in that deep, grave, convicted, voice:

❝ ｂｕｔ　ｔｈｅｙ　ｃａｎ　ｔａｋｅ　ｍｅ ❞

DOUXIE MY SELFLESS WIZARD BEAN. LIGHT OF MY LIFE. I’M DECEASED.

Because it’s scenes like this which convince me they KNOW that Selflessness Is His Thing. And that means so freaking much to me OH MY LORD.

Act 1 of ROTT was an absolute delight, let’s just say.

Men in Black!Krel

Nari!Douxie (i cANNot beLIEve THIs is a THING im in tears)

THE BARBARA/JIM REUNION!!!!!

A FREAKING STRICKLAKE ENGAGEMENT!!!!! Jim/Strickler relationship growth arc 😭😭😭

Y’ALL WE GOT JLAIRE SITTING ON A FLIPPIN’ RED ASS BED. This is the closest we’re gonna get to sex in a kid’s show.

NOT COUNTING OFC THE INSTA-STAJA-FAM CONCEPTION

should I be scared that GDT is reading the totally wack corners of mpreg AO3??!! 👀👀👀dude, like DUDE. that happened.

ELI GLOWUP !!!!! damn son u hot

also aja is such a Queen in this whole thing omg

I obvs can’t go scene by scene through this thing but––

Douxie and Nari in P A I N during the spellbreaking scene. that hurt my soul oh lordy. there must be art made

OK but then after this SHIT GETS VERY REAL. There’s a lot of Character Thematics/Arcs and Real Narrative shit I can get down into and stuff I want to think about because yEAH... wow, this movie Went There. And Back Again. (lOLJSKGSg)

I appreciate the deaths. I really do. But Strickler was a shock. Jim holding onto his mom and crying, overwhelmed with guilt, was the most Jim thing. The boy puts so much agony on himself. It’s his undoing. gAH POOR JIM.

CAN WE MAKE A NOTE THAT JIM’S RIBS WERE BROKEN/HURT throughout this entire thing??? 😭😭😭 HMmm? HMMMM!!! LOOK AT THE ANGST

Claire shadow-porting an eNTiRE TITAN. This girl is OFF THE CHARTS SJGHSBKGJMNFSBG

Nari’s death was emotional. Wow. She was being a Hero. Not running, like she said. That was a Power Growth and beautifully scored. Not to mention archie trapped forever?!!! Nooooo?!!!

They really want to take everything away from Douxie don’t they.

Jim getting Excalibur and leveling up with Akiridian armor was pRETTY SWEET. Especially ✨together✨. And everyone saying the Destiny speech. *tissues*

Act 3 finale babbaaayyyy.

CHILDREN OF THE SUN REDUX OMSKGJSGGMN HELL YEAHHHH

Jim realizing the amulet didn’t make. him a hero, HE DID. And that’s why the amulet chose him.

y’all I sobbed for tobes. that was powerful, painful, and moving. and y’know it was almost like this whole movie was an apology for treating toby like a comedic sidekick––and giving him the trollhunter mantle in the end.

like THEY VALIDATED JIM AND TOBY’s FRIENDSHIP and that cANnNOt be underestimated. Because friendship is almost ALWAYS knocked down the ladder of importance in the pantheon of human relationships, and ROTT said NO. Jim loves Toby so much that he’d change his own history and the history of the ENTIRE WORLD in order to get him back.

like, Jim, our sacrificial Hero. Deciding to truly be Atlas and take all the weight of What Could Have Been on his shoulders, because he cannot stand the losses that happened under his leadership.

this kiss tho. the absolute ANGUISH in the way jim presses himself to her face. gOD. THE PAIN. THE LOVE. THE “I LOVE YOU”

––––

The whole time travel twist tho. I’m kinda... not here for it?? Time travel is tricky to pull off and yeah, I think I’m in the camp that everyone’s character arcs (except Jim’s) have been retconned. It’s sad because people get connected to one another by the shared pains, joy, and experiences that brought them together, and now they’ve lost that.

But thematically and more importantly, why can’t the acceptance of death be validated? Sure, so many people dying was painful, but Let. It. Be. Painful. That’s life. TOA hasn’t shied away from dark things before. Toby and Strickler and Nomura and Nari (even Archie and Charlemagne) gave their lives; Toby became a Hero in the truest sense of the word. Let him do that, let that choice be his. In fact, it says a lot thematically about Jim’s hero complex that he cannot accept other people making heroic choices with tragic consequences. That it’s all on him. But with this ending, they do make it clear Jim’s need to be a hero is a driving obsession, and I appreciate the strength of his conviction on that identity for himself.

But the thing about retconning the anguish is that it’s telling us that bad consequences, tragedy, and loss are unacceptable in life. That just because Jim and his friends need 10 years of therapy, he should try to erase all that pain and give himself and his friends a “normal” life. No. Depression, loss, hurt... these help make us who we are; growth is about accepting them and using that pain to become better people, not invalidating them from our past.

*grumbles*

let’s be real tho: that ending was meta. it was like they were telling us fans that now WE can go create the Trollhunters we wanted to see, and fix all the things we thought went wrong. I think someone’s been reading a bunch of Trollhunter AU fics, no?

tl;dr ROTT creates more questions than it does answers and we need another show LMAO

[oficmag]

Contributor Spotlight: Mimi

Now that Issue #1 is live, we at OFIC Mag are excited to shine a light on some of the amazing contributors from our inaugural issue. We hope you all love them as much as we do!

Today’s spotlight is on Mimi | @pcandaa, who wrote “i want to get away (you make me want to stay)” for Issue #1.

Tell us a bit about yourself!

Wow. Head empty no thoughts. Why is this question so hard? 

By day I work in gender justice (the field that kid-me said I would never enter), and by night I write sapphic and other kinds of queer fiction, mostly romances, but I've been trying to craft a thriller lately, and it's been interesting. Aside from writing, I like playing boardgames with my friends weekly, trying to convince my knees that I can run cross country again like I used to, and listening to history podcasts. I also do art when I have more than two seconds to spare, and I'm still gunning towards being exhibited someday. 

How did you find fandom?

Through Harry Potter, in 2006. I used to lurk on a website called harrypotterfanfiction.com (which afaik is being imported into AO3 now). Then I discovered fanfic.net, and then later AO3. 

I started posting fanfic on AO3 for Jane the Virgin in 2016, and wrote fics for All For One (the webseries—go check it out it's cool!) and some other small, niche fandoms. 

What fandom are you in now and what brought you here?

I currently almost exclusively read Supercorp fanfic and do very little else, and I hate to say it, but racism brought me here—I adore Avatar: The Last Airbender and Legend of Korra, but fandom is never really a safe space for fans of colour, and the casual racism implicit in many LoK fics threw me off and stopped me from being able to read most fanfic for it. 

I wanted to continue reading decent femslash, but without having to deal with the racism, hence my pivot to a fandom with two white women placed front and centre. I don't watch Supergirl and never intend to, but I've found several amazing AUs that I've enjoyed deeply over the years, though I'll always wish we had the same energy for non-white characters. 

My experience with ATLA and LoK threw me off participating too deeply in fandom in general, especially for shows with women of colour, so I lurk and enjoy fanart and not much else.

What’s your favorite book of all time and what do you love about it?

I don't think I have a singular favourite book of all time, but a few highlights over the past couple of years would be: 

The Sea and Stars Trilogy by SD Simper: Absolutely sizzling chemistry between the leads of the likes I have rarely read before. Plot is also gripping AF. SD Simper can really tell a story. 

Gideon the Ninth by Tasmyn Muir: Gideon is possibly my favourite protagonist ever, she's hilarious and mouthy and butch and unabashedly loves women—I want more characters like her! 

The Red Country by jilbrais (Ao3): A stunning prequel to Alice in Wonderland with a gutwrenching story between the Queen of Hearts and the Red Queen—I'd highly recommend it, the prose is beautiful and the story is incredible. 

Honey Girl by Morgan Rogers: That book was written for me, about me, and that is all I have to say about that. More books about black girls that include whimsy and dreams and the agonising reality of unrealised dreams please! I would absolutely read anything else Morgan Rogers writes. 

I also really enjoy Jenny Frame's romance novels, she writes in a way that is so earnest and honest, and she handles narratives of grief and loss extremely well. She's also really good and amping up chemistry between her leads, and of course, each of her books has a butch lead in it, which I absolutely adore.

What projects are you working on right now?

I had a whole thing planned to write more fiction this year and I've since been swamped with research projects and prepping a chapter of my thesis for publication. Some Real World Stuff right there bleargh. Ideally I'd be working on the following original fiction projects: 

See Me In Hindsight: A sapphic Ocean's 11 retelling. Featuring cheek and chaos and some family drama thrown in for fun. 

Tightrope: A woman waits for her spouse to return, only to find that they've brought their dead twin's mistress to the house. The two women tiptoe around each other, each believing the other to be the enemy, but the true enemy in the house is not who they think. 

Untitled Spite Novel: In 2011, a 16-year old is overwhelmed by academic pressure and confides in her teacher. As they begin to grow closer as mentor and mentee, and eventually into something less and less appropriate, the girl is plagued by visions of violence, and the unyielding spectre of a woman with no face. 

Untitled Supernatural Romance: Mehreen Kazi is one of the most powerful vampires in Osower and the High Princess of the Osower Council, but she's broken one of the cardinal tenets of the city: no sex with the humans you feed on. But she can't let the girl go, even though she doesn't know who she is and hasn't seen her face, because the dampners at the feeding house prevent her from doing so. Aisha Isa is a mage who's been searching for the secret to immortality, and finds a temp job PA-ing for Mehreen Kazi, who might have the answer she's been looking for. In the meantime, she's part-timing as a feeder for a high-profile mystery client who's broken one of the city's cardinal rules with her, but Aisha's already too hooked on her to care. As the two of them bicker and clash against each other during the day, unknowingly loving each other at night, Mehreen's sister Mira lurks in the background, waiting for just the right moment to see her fall.

What are your aspirations as a writer, big picture or small?

To experiment with different genres and improve my prose style. I'd love to get published one day, indie or big house doesn't matter, and as a writer based outside the Global North, I know my odds are absolutely stacked against me! But I also want to continue to find joy in creating stories and learning to craft them better and better (and I really, really want Untitled Spite Novel out in the world someday). 

If you could give one piece of advice to beginning writers, what would you tell them?

Write what you like! Write badly! I made this mistake as a young writer because I was too much of a perfectionist to write as often as I needed to. It wasn't till I was in my early 20s that I actually learned to tell a good story because I was writing pretty much anything that came to mind, whether it was good or not, whether I completed it or not. 

The more you write, the more you'll understand your own process, the more you'll learn about what to do and what not to do, and the kind of stories that matter to you. Don't think that your stories don't matter just because you don't see other people telling them. They will always matter. Always remember that.

THANK YOU FOR BEING A PART OF THE OFIC FAMILY, MIMI! WE’RE SO THRILLED TO SHARE YOUR WORK WITH THE WORLD.

[tiredcath]

Zukka Fic Recs

after atla came back into pop culture i found myself falling back in love with zukka which resulted in me reading (almost) every zukka fic on ao3 and here are my favorites

Transference by The_Quatermasters (146k)

In a modern AU, Zuko has to deal with settling in a new school after expulsion, dealing with an angry ex and an abusive father. Maybe his new found friendships and growing closeness with Sokka will help him make it through. 

Borderlines by The_Quatermasters (73k)

Three years after the war, the work still isn't quite done and the Gaang is scattered across the continents in their efforts to help the world recover. When Aang and Katara pay visit to the Fire Nation where Zuko is Fire Lord and Sokka acts as Ambassador for the Water Tribe, sparks fly between the siblings over Sokka's life choices.

Ashes Inside When You Finish Your Song by Muncaster (47k)

Sokka writes lyrics for his sister’s band. Zuko plays piano and is unnecessarily nice. Fellas, is it gay to write love songs about your friend and his golden eyes?

(AKA, a modern band AU featuring The Gaang, crappy software equipment, homoerotic lyrics, and the realization that maybe, if you think about a guy every night before you sleep, you just might be in love with him.)

sirens & sleepless nights by Satirrian (54k)

Life can be pretty hard living in a city under a totalitarian regime. Between adhering to the ridiculous curfew, keeping himself from being gunned down by a passing patrolman, and paying his unnecessary tolls to the state for, say, breathing, Sokka has his hands full just getting to work. Add aiding a resistance group on top of that, and Sokka should really be getting paid for this.

Then, one night, Sokka finds an injured patrolman collapsed in the street, who tells him with blood on his lips, “If the patrol finds me, I’m dead.”

 Real Slow by surveycorpsjean (21k)

“I see.” Zuko closes the scroll. “Is the Water Tribe sending a replacement?”

“Uh yeah,” Sokka gestures to himself dramatically. “You’re looking at him.”

 First by HoneyBadgerMole (20k)

Zuko has been nurturing a crush on the jock in his AP Psych class but he has been too scared to talk to him until they get paired up for a project.

the benefits of getting a flat tire by LesbeanLatte (64k)

Zuko makes an impromptu decision to run away from home after a disturbing conversation with Azula. Unfortunately, some plans are better when they're actually, well, planned. Zuko isn't counting on getting a flat tire almost as soon as he's far enough away from the city to really be in the middle of nowhere.

Sokka is immediately taken with the stranger he and his friends find stranded on the side of the road during an afternoon joy ride. However, he has no idea what he's getting involved with and a kind attempt to help a fellow teen in need turns into a massive coverup for a missing person who just so happens to be the son of the mayor of Ba Sing Se.

Azula was just trying to help her big brother - in her own way - by telling him things she thought he deserved to know. Now the situation has gotten wildly out of control. Did she enjoy seeing Zuko upset and afraid? Of course. Had she intended to endanger his life? Not necessarily, but of course, her idiot brother overreacted to everything and that's what happened and now she doesn't know how to stop the chain of events she's indirectly put in place like dominoes.

Operation Leverage by snowandfire (50k)

Sokka's instincts are onto something great. Zuko just wants to serve tea and brood in peace. Ironically, Toph is the only one who can see what's really going on.

 The Stingray by Smediterranea (24k)

“You’re not carrying me.”

“I don’t mind,” the lifeguard says easily.

“I can just hop over.”

“On sand?”

Zuko will never admit it, but being carried feels pretty nice. The lifeguard sets him down and eyes him warily.

“Are you really all by yourself?” he asks in a worried tone. “No friends in town you can call to check on you?”

“No,” Zuko confirms. Tears are forming again with alarming speed; his foot throbs painfully with every passing second.

“What kind of burrito do you want?”

“You don’t have to —“ Zuko repeats.

“I’m getting al pastor. You like al pastor?”

 AU: Zuko falls for Sokka, the super hot lifeguard who helps him after an unfortunate encounter with a stingray.

 it's the illusion of separation by argentoswan (110k)

Sokka takes a job washing dishes at the new tea shop in town. It's a great gig, until he finds out his only coworker is his old high school bully. Sokka really should quit, but he also really needs to afford rent.

Also, Zuko is kind of hot now.

 People like to think war means something by trying_to_spell_both_our_names_at_once (21k)

Sokka was the first to leave.

Somehow that hurt the most. . . . Not long after Zuko becomes Firelord, forces gather in the South and next thing he knows he's thrown into a civil war with almost no one by his side. Maybe healing is longer and more complicated than it needs to be, but with the right people by your side it is always possible.

 a way that will destroy you by anothermistakemade (14k)

In the wake of Ozai's death, Zuko begins to fall apart. Sokka will do everything in his power to make sure that doesn't happen.

-

or, zuko might be losing his mind, but he also might just be really sad & traumatized

 Those Who Favor Fire by CSHfic, VSfic (30k)

After a failed attempt on his life, Sokka fakes his death, dons a disguise, and infiltrates the would-be assassin's ranks in an attempt to bring them down from the inside.

Zuko learns of his husband's tragic death, mourns, and vows revenge.

 Words Mean More at Night by DaisytheDoodleDog (28k)

Even ten years after the end of the war, rebellions rise and risk the balance of the nations. Sokka was willing to do anything to protect his people, which is perhaps why he's leading an army against the rebellion, attacking only as a last result. But Sokka's unwinding, it's taking a toll on him, and the only thing keeping him grounded are the letter Zuko and him exchange late in the night when no one can see the messenger hawks. But as they say, nothing's fair in love and war.

another word for wanting by eurydicees (23k)

Sokka begins to dream of his soulmate when he's eleven years old, and it just gets harder from there. Or, 125 moments soulmates share, and none of them come easy.

(In which your dreams are your soulmate's memories, and Sokka dreams of an all-consuming fire, growing and eating at his soulmate until it burns up the connection between their souls. In which they find love anyways.)

 It Has Only Just Begun by Kirazalea (39k)

There is a bitter triumph in crashing when you should be soaring

Zuko had now chosen the path his uncle had been trying so hard to show him; he had someone who believed in him, who maybe loved him; he was travelling with the Avatar and they apparently had a plan to end the war. By all accounts, Zuko should be smiling.

But Uncle was gone (captured by Azula, and Zuko didn't think she would kill him, but he didn’t, couldn’t, know for sure). The Avatar was barely breathing (he could still die at any second and there was nothing any of them could do about it). Azula had conquered the last Earth Kingdom stronghold (all those innocent people who were now at her mercy). It seemed like, for every step Zuko took forward, the world sent him back three more.

But he was determined to push forward anyways. He needed to make his uncle proud, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

aka: zuko joins the gaang at the end of season 2

 Nightmares and Reveries by HisMomoness (20k)

Zuko doesn't sleep because when he does, he's haunted by nightmares. Sokka worms his way into a job and makes it his mission to get Zuko to relax. Lots of head pets and one vacation to the South Pole later, Zuko might just be getting the hang of it.

Cue pining, some fluff, and eventual romance.

 The One Who Stopped Time by ohhihoney (66k)

All hope was lost to Zuko until one day, his uncle asked a random person at the Jasmine Dragon to tutor his nephew. Gritting his teeth and embarrassed beyond the point of no return, Zuko gave the blue eyed boy his number.

Little did Zuko know how much Sokka would change his world.

 Rubbed Off Stars by ohhihoney (2k)

Sokka wasn't going to just sit and watch the boy at the back of the bus cry while trying to rub off pride flags off his cheeks.

--------------

WIP

Ozymandias, King of Kings by Think_of_a_Wonderful_Thought (168k)

After that fateful Agni Kai, Ozai makes a different call. Branded as a traitor and banished to a prison camp, Zuko learns how cruel the Fire Nation can be to its citizens. Three years, a water tribe raid, and an unexpected meeting with a gang of over-enthusiastic idealistic children puts Zuko back in the spotlight. The revolution is coming and it wants another poster boy, but Zuko is not willing to lend his face to the cause.

 Another Brother by AvocadoLove (312k)

It was a mission of revenge. There weren't supposed to be any survivors, but Chief Hakoda couldn't bring himself to kill the Fire Nation boy. Against his better judgment, he brought him home. A Zuko joins the Water Tribe story.

--------------

BONUS : zuko x jet

Something to Hold Onto by Wildgoosery (122k)

Since the day the walls of Ba Sing Se fell, the Freedom Fighters have struggled to protect what remains of the city and its people. Jet and his second command, a mysterious boy named Li, have spent the summer piecing together an army, hoping for a chance to take the city back for good. But Li is also Zuko, and the time for that secret is quickly running out. Soon, he'll have to decide exactly who he is, what cause he's going to fight for, and where his heart lies.

[peppersonironi]

12, 21, 19

(Is this late? Oops. Sorry!)

12: Favourite character to write about this year

Stephanie Brown, easy. She's my spirit animal, so I might be doing a touch of projecting, but I honestly don't care. She's just pure chaos in the best way. Some of my favourite lines that I've written are for her. Such as:

"What's up bitches? I brought donuts!"

"My waffles await!"

"FEAR ME!"

"Welcome to Steph’s Glitter Bomb Palace, Where Snitches get Stitches™! So don’t tell Bruce or I’ll sic Jason on you."

She's also the character I've gotten the most comments on. People really seen to enjoy how I write her!

A close second would be Duke Thomas. Bliss, a fic I wrote for the 2020 Duke Week, was one of my favourites! Or maybe Damian? His dialogue just comes easy to me.

21: Most memorable comment/review

the batfamily exist:

everyone: is,,is that allowed?

On Code Orange (Batfam/Young Justice Crossover)

*Or*

I have wanted to read a DCU/MCU crossover for a VERY long time. This story is such a delight. Your characterisation (and for me an introduction to The Signal) was fascinating in the extreme. I loved the game playing and the fact that I could watch (open-mouthed) as Bruce Wayne enjoyed childlike fun with his children and Alfred(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) was the cherry on top of the icing on top of the cake. I look forward to your updates in a way that you wouldn't believe.

On Batfam/Avengers Crossover

19: Any new fics to start next year

Oh boy. So many. You know what? Here's a list. It'll be good to get these ideas out. Plus, you guys can tell me what you'd rather see first!

Gen/just Batfam

Crack fic based off this piece of dialogue (came from a convo between my sister and I): Tim reached forward and poked Duke's face. "You're right!" He exclaimed. "You really *do* squish like a block of wood!" Duke Centric.

Based on THIS Incorrect Quotes. Talia moves into the Manor because she's sick of Ra's. Featuring a bunch of good mom!Talia.

Based off THIS Incorrect Quotes. Jason runs for President as Red Hood. I have so many ideas! This'll be really fun.

Loosely based on THIS post. It explores Jason and Cassandra's relationship, and how it evolves.

Duke Thomas Big Bang Fic (can't say much, but it'll be great!)

Platonic (need to be certain you understand that. There were some misconceptions w/ my Discord server) Slow Burn between Tim and Damian. At the beginning the absolutely despise each other. But over time they realise their own insecurities, and how they don't actually hate the other. And by the end they fully admit and embrace their being brothers.

Reverse Robins with Damian as the oldest (I made THIS post talking about it a while back. But I've highly revised it.)

Reverse Robins with Duke as the oldest (I wrote THIS fic, but I think I want to change this into a series!)

Cassandra as Batman. Stephanie as Catwoman. Carrie Kelley as Robin.

5 Times Bette Kane was the mastermind behind the batkids' pranks without Bruce's knowledge, and 1 Time her brilliance was brought to light.

5 Times Duke thought that he couldn't possibly get any more siblings and 1 Time he met the cousins (AKA: Duke meets the extended family)

Birdflash

Birdflash in the JL/JLU universe (based off that one hexagon by @novaviis ! Super fun!). The league is inviting potential members to the Watchtower one day. Except Wally wasn't there during the choosing of said members. So he's completely shocked when his husband Nightwing shows up. They have to act like they don't know each other, which basically involves Dick flirting his butt off with Wally, Wally trying desperately to remain professional, Bruce digging in the corner, the rest of the League in varying degrees of disapproval and confusion (at least a couple have seen Wally's wedding ring. So that adds a while 'nother layer).

Young Justice soulmate au. Dick, and eventually everyone else, knows that Wally is his soulmate. Wally is oblivious. Lots of pining and angst in this one. Slow burn to an extent (depends on how long I make it). But definitely a happy fluffy ending in sight!

Batfam Meets Young Justice

THIS fic.

Duke gets yeeted into the YJ universe, and promptly passes out. He wakes up in the Watchtower, and breaks out of the confinement the Team has set up for him. Pulls shenanigans (some unwittingly) and used his powers. The Team and JL are confused, and panicking. Because this guy keeps muttering things about the Batfam. And he has a bat on his chest.

The Team break into some ancient temple after getting info on a new Supervillian plot. They find purple clothed woman draped across a throne. She talks, and they panic, as she knows all their secret identities. The only one who isn't, is Tim. He looks bored. Alternatively: Steph needs Tim's credit card to take his sister out on a date, and absolutely refuses to text.

While the Team is on a mission to stop Lady Shiva, a dimensional portal opens up and spits out a strange Robin (Damian) and what seemed to be a female Batman (Cass as Black Bat). This new dynamic due promptly defeats Lady Shiva and all the goons. The Team is freaked out, and 'apprehends' the dimensional anomalies, bringing them back to the Watchtower. Where the due promptly break and and start chaos. Featuring "Toxic" by Britney Spears. I will not explain why.

The Watchtower gets a sudden emergency message from the Batcave. They accept, to find a stranger calling himself Signal panicking about Robin being missing. They all look at Tim, who ignores them, and says that he doesn't know where Robin is. Some naming shenanigans occur.

(Not sure if this fits here, oh well) Set in Season One, Bruce is tired of Clark's attitude towards Superboy, and adopts the clone himself. Not sure how far this'll go, but at least goes through Dick's time as Robin. (Based on THIS Tumblr post)

(Also iffy on placement) a continuation of one (not sure which? Probably Damian as older) Reverse Robins fics. It's a retelling of Season One of YJ, with Dick as Robin. Nightwing (Damian) feels protective of his brother, and so takes on the role Black Canary had in the show, training the Team. But as time goes on, he ends up being more of a big brother to the group. Cameos from the rest of the Batfam as well! And an Identity Reveal (including finding out Dick and Dami are brothers) at the end!

Batfam Meets the Justice League

Cass takes over being Batman for a bit, because Bruce was an idiot and broke his leg. This happens to line up with when the Justice League reach out to the Dark Knight, in order to extend an invitation to the league. They eventually meet Bruce as Batman, and are confused as to why he is so tall. And male.

Joyfire

Lian accidentally reveals her three parents' relationship by calling Bruce 'grandpa' over dinner.

Museum Heist

THIS fic

Operation: Seduce Nightwing. Based on a post for an ATLA ot3, Wally and Artemis realise silumaneously “Hey, we kinda have the hots for Dick” and decide together to see if he likes them back. Which involves a heck ton of over the top flirting, and shenanigans. The Team is sighing on the sidelines at their idiocy. Dick is internally combusting and thinking “Do they like me back? I’’m not sure.” 

5 times Dick and Wally fought over being the middle spoon, and one time Artemis had had enough.

Set in Season 3 (but ignores some canon), Bart is kidnapped by some mad scientist obsessed with the Speed Force. The Team mobilizes, and gets Bart back from the evil base. But when they get there, they find Wally West freed from the Speed Force. He and Artemis reunite, and everyone is happy. They prepare to leave. Then the Pick-up Squad arrive in the bioship, and Dick gets out. Everyone is expecting Dick to give Wally a hug, because hey, he's his best friend! What they weren't expecting was him to run forward and pull the speedster into a passionate kiss. They go back to the Watchtower, and some more stuff happens.

Soulmate AU where the first thing your soulmate says to you after they fall in love with you is tattooed on your body.

Post Season Two Get Together. Starts with Artemis living with Dick as opposed to Will. Might be Slow Burn? (They come pretty close to kissing) Eventually Wally comes back. Arty and Wally are back together. They both live in the same house as Dick, for convenience. Then some more Slow Burn happens. Maybe some Birdflash moments. Arty tells Wally she kinda had a thing for Dick. Wally admits the same. Maybe a touch more Slow Burn. They Eventually get together.

Batlantern

AU where Bruce met Hal back when he first came back to Gotham. Fic goes through how their relationship evolves over the years (up until current time, when Damian is 13). I'm considering a relationship reveal with the Justice League.

Hal's interactions with Bruce's kids.

Green Lantern Corp acting protective of Hal when Bruce comes to Oa. This was an ask that I got, and I'm holding off on writing it till I get as much into on the GL's as possible, as all I know if their characterization comes from that animated series, and Guy Gardener's (Hilarious!) parts on Young Justice.

Marvel

Like 3 different versions of the Peter Parker Field Trip to Stark Tower Trope.

2-part Crossover with the Batfam (they exist in the same universe), where the Avengers go to a Wayne Gala, and interact with the family. The second chapter involves them heading out the next night to try and contact Batman.

THIS fic.

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Never Let Me Go: Part 1 of 2

Summary/Author's Notes: Confession time. I have been @stevieharrrr 's "Daily Carrillo Thirst Anon" for some time now. Y'all seemed to really want this! So, after some idea bouncing, friendly threatening, and overall caps-lock screaming at one another, this is my poker chip that I am raising Stevie in the Carrillo feels war. (This takes place in season 2... episode 4)

Pairing: Col. Horacio Carrillo x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+ -- SMUT, oral f!receiving, fingering, THICC CARRILLO ARMS/HANDS, language, violence, CHARACTER DEATH (I'm not kidding with this one y'all, I know it fucks me up when I read it in fic so you have been warned.) Cannon-divergence, this is a FIX IT FIC, if that makes you feel better. Gif by @el-cheung

And the questions I have for a sinner like me

But the arms of the ocean deliver me

MASTERLIST

Being married to Horacio had never been easy. You had lost count of the number of times you had moved, the number of houses you both had tried to make a home, and the number of times you had almost thrown in the towel. The key word being almost.

Colonel Horacio Carillo was a man's man. If anyone opened up a dictionary and looked up the word 'brave', a picture of your husband would be underneath. Along with the word reckless, cunning, ruthless, and a whole slew of other things that his superiors like to throw in his face when something didn't go according to plan. His strong resolve kept the underlying volcano of his rage carefully under wraps. And if you asked the man himself, he would attribute it entirely to you. According to him, the moment he put that ring on your finger was the moment he had a reason to not give in to his unbridled savagery, his desire to get the job done no matter what it cost. And so far, you were okay with that. You could play the dutiful wife on the sidelines, you could be his anchor, because as soon as his feet crossed the threshold of your home, he was no longer Bogetà's Atlas. He finally got to take all of Columbia off of his shoulders and fall into your waiting arms.

And that's the reason when you received the call that he would be working late for the third night in a row, you decided to do something about it. Hanging up the phone, you got dressed, pulling that small floral print dress that he loved so much over your head. You shimmied it down your ass and it just ghosted the middle of your thighs. The small pink and red flowers on top of the wispy white fabric made your skin look softer somehow, grabbable--at least that's what your husband had told you the first time you wore it out to the farmer's market. You picked up the phone again and called in his favorite take out from the small shop around the corner, balancing the receiver against your shoulder as you put on a touch of makeup and a bright pink lip stain.

By the time you arrived, the precinct was winding down for the night. A few of the regulars were standing around, and there was a general uneasiness in the air. Your high heels clicked against the laminate floor and it sounded way too loud, making you second guess your apparel.

"Mhm, what's that smell?"

Javier Peña turned from his pair of desks as you made your way across the office with the bag of takeout hanging over your forearm, your car keys jingling in your hand.

"Good evening, boys," you gave a small wave at the two DEA agents and continued on your path.

"Where's mine?" Steve Murphy, Javier's partner asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Sorry, Steve," you laughed softly, walking backwards a couple of steps. "Next time, okay?"

"Carrillo's a lucky son of a bitch!" Steve called after you and you shook your head feeling your cheeks blush. Javier mumbled something undoubtedly crude under his breath and Steve elbowed him in the ribs drawing a grunt from his partner before they both sat back to work.

Boys. That's what the two of them were and you weren't sure how Horacio put up with it all day. You raised a hand and tapped your knuckles against the glass bearing your own last name.

"Come in."

His voice made your shoulders relax. You let out a breath that you felt like you had been holding for the last three days, and walked into his office, closing the door behind you.

Colonel Carrillo looked up from the stack of papers on his desk and his eyes widened. Clearly expecting literally anyone but you to walk through his office door and it was humorous just how quickly his stoic persona melted in front of your eyes. He stood up abruptly, taking off his glasses and saying softly, "Mi amor?"

"Hey," you said, setting the to-go bag on a clear spot of his desk. "I thought you might be hungry."

"You didn't have to do this," he said, still looking surprised that you were actually standing in front of him. He stopped down as you offered your cheek to him and he gave it a small peck.

"I know."

"Ernesto's?" He raised an eyebrow and looked into the bag, inhaling deeply.

"Mhm," you nodded, reaching in and taking out the styrofoam boxes one at a time.

Carrillo rubbed his chin, looking you over slowly before shaking his head with a grin. "Thank you." He walked around the desk slowly, twisting the string on the blinds to his office window until they closed fully. You didn't look up from your task of setting out dinner until you heard the firm 'click' of the lock on the door.

"Horacio?" You asked over your shoulder as he rubbed his palms together and walked back over to you.

"So we won't be bothered," he said simply with a shrug and you nodded.

"When is the last time you ate?" You asked, lifting an eyebrow at him.

"I had coffee this morning." He admitted rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. You knew you were the only one that ever got to see that flicker of embarrassment in his eyes, like he had somehow disappointed you. He didn't give a damn what anyone else thought of his actions, but your opinion was always held in his highest regard.

"Coffee is not a food group. How many times do I have to tell you that?" You said, pressing your lips together in a tight line.

"Of course it is. Because you know what I'm like without it." He chuckled.

"Oh, I absolutely do," you laughed. "A bear in a uniform--"

Your hands paused on the food as you felt his large arms slide around your waist, his tender lips finding their way to the base of your neck. Was he trying to distract you from your current annoyance at his poor excuse for nutrition? Maybe. Was it working? Also maybe.

"I haven't seen this dress in awhile," he mumbled against your skin, removing one of his arms to pull your hair to the side and out of his way. He kissed his way up your neck then back down to your shoulder, soft feather light touches that made your eyes close for a brief second.

"You haven't been home in awhile." It was meant as a joke, a harmless jest, but your smile fell as you felt him tense behind you. You turned in his arms slowly, putting both hands on his broad chest. "I didn't mean it like that." You whispered, fingers playing along the collar of his army green button up. Your fingers traced the path against the embroidered name badge over his heart and you wished you hadn't said anything. The moments you did get together lately were so brief that any that weren't dedicated to loving one another felt like time wasted.

He didn't want to be gone all of the time. He made sure you knew that. The war on Escobar wouldn't wait just because one man's wife was missing him. There were plenty of men who never returned home. Escobar had left many widows in the wake of his cocaine empire and every time the man in front of you walked through the door and into your arms you thanked your lucky stars. You didn't believe in much, but you thanked every deity that might have been listening for keeping him safe.

"I know," he said, trying to give you a smile but unable to keep the sadness off of the edges.

"Come on," you said, nodding to the food. "It's gonna get cold."

"Not yet."

He kept his arms firmly planted around your waist, his hands slipping lower to take two huge handfuls of your ass. The movement made the dress lift slightly, the material bunching in his grip. You gave him a surprised look and he bit his lip, playfully waggling his eyebrows at you. It made you giggle. God, how you missed him when he wasn't home. This playful, boyish side of him that made you walk on air. The side of him that made it seem like you both were young and in love and didn't live in a war torn country.

"I thought you were hungry?" You asked as he continued his way up your neck to the shell of your ear.

"I am." He worked his way back down, kissing the tops of your breasts as he walked you a step backwards against his desk. "But not for take out."

"Even Ernesto's?" You gave a mock gasp of shock and smiled, letting your fingers card through his hair as he pulled the scoop neck of your dress down and squeezed your breast in his large hand. "I thought it was your favorite!"

"There's something I like more," he said, looking up at you with dark brown eyes, refusing to lift his lips from the mound of your breasts. It made the heat rise to your cheeks.

"Here?" You asked and as a response he reached around you and shoved a stack of files off of his desk and to the ground with a loud clunk.

"Yes. Here." His words were firm and he shoved a few books off of the desk to join the papers on the floor. He gripped your waist and picked you up to sit you on the edge of his desk, nudging your thighs open with his knee and standing between them. "Think you can be quiet, dulzura?"

"You know the answer to that," you giggled again, cupping his face in both of your hands as he closed in on you. You were not a quiet lover and he often told you it was one of his favorite things. The way you said his name as he brought you through your orgasm was his most favorite song and he liked when it was turned up loud.

You reached for the front of his dark slacks, palming the bulge at the front of his pants and he gripped your wrist with a shake of his head. "Not yet," he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed it before putting it back on the desk. He put his hands up the dress and gripped your underwear, sliding them over your hips and down your legs. The lace got tangled on the heel of your pump and you kicked them off with a shake of your foot.

"Kiss me again," you demanded with a shaky breath and he happily obliged.

His tongue slipped inside your mouth as one arm held you tightly and his other hand went up your dress. His thick fingers pressed against your labia and you moaned into his mouth as he began to run them up and down, slowly spreading your wetness. He pressed your clit and you jolted, it was too much too quickly and you gripped his neck.

"Mi amor?" He asked and when you hummed in response he continued. "Lift your dress."

You did as you were told. With excited hands and a hammering heart, he helped you pull the soft material up over your thighs, letting it bunch around your waist as he went to his knees in front of you. Those dark, chocolate colored eyes that you loved with all of your heart never strayed from your own as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder. He let out a small noise of content as you ran your fingers through his hair and the noise carried over as he pressed his mouth to your aching cunt. With a gasp and your head thrown back, your hair cascading down your back, your husband would have said that you looked like a vision--if his mouth wasn't already preoccupied.

Carrillo's hands slid around each of your thighs, kneading the soft flesh and keeping them wide open for his broad shoulders to sit comfortably in the middle. His tongue slipped through your wet pussy like it had a hundred times before, but it still made you moan his name softly to the empty office around you. Your husband may have been a man of few words, but he liked to say he used his mouth for much more precious things.

He sucked each of your folds separately, a soft pop sound coming each time he moved to the next spot. When he finally closed his mouth around your clit, you gasped sharply and grabbed his hand that was resting on top of your thigh and squeezed it.

"There?" He mumbled from between your legs and you nodded.

"There. Right there."

"Right there. Mhmm, I see," he teased your desperation but continued to oblige your request. He worked his jaw against you in such a way that you imagined he was coating his face with your juices like you were the most delicious of fruits. The wonderfully crude image made your cunt twitch and he groaned.

He kept a firm grip on your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he continued to suck your clit. You wanted so much more right now. You wanted his cock inside of you. You wanted his hand around your neck. You wanted him to flip you over and take your ass. Suddenly you wished more than anything that the two of you were home so you didn't have to pick what you wanted most, you just had to pick which one you wanted first.

"Horacio," you moaned his name, rocking your hips forward gently against his chin. You bit your lip and closed your eyes, the feeling of how well he knew your body started to overwhelm you. In the years you had been together he had taken so much time memorizing every spot that made you sigh, every place that made you break out in goosebumps, and every series of movements that had you falling apart in his arms.

He loved you fully, completely, and unconditionally.

The orgasm he brought you with his mouth took you from your thoughts as you clenched your thighs around his head suddenly. "I'm cuming!" You gasped desperately just before you felt the rush of heat flood your core down through your legs. It made you bend forward over him and open your eyes, moaning loudly as you saw him looking up at you, watching you orgasm in his hands as his mouth continued to ravage your aching cunt.

"Come on, baby," he squeezed your hand, feeling you clench again against his mouth and it was too much.

"Stop, stop," you said with a shaky voice to match your quivering legs. You grabbed two fistfuls of his button up and pulled, making him get to his feet and slam his mouth against yours.

He grunted against your lips as you pushed your tongue into his mouth, greedily tasting your own wetness on him. He cursed quietly in Spanish as you pulled his shirt, untucking it from the waistband of his pants. Your hands went to his belt and you slowed down, suddenly remembering you were in the precinct.

"Do--" you swallowed hard, trying to breathe normally as you spoke against his face. "Do you have time?"

"For you? Siempre," he slid his fingers in your hair at your temple and cradled the back of your head. "Siempre, mi amor."

Always.

You blushed a little, your fingers starting to unbutton his shirt as he kissed you gently and kept hold of your hair. With each button your heart raced faster, you smiled against his lips as he slipped his tongue back inside your mouth, expertly colliding it with your own. His kisses always felt like they were going to devour you from the inside out. He kissed with such an intensity that you knew from the first time he pressed his mouth to yours all those years ago you would willingly allow him to consume you.

You clenched your thighs around his waist and let your heels drop to the floor behind him. He ran his hand down the curve of your ass and hitched your leg further up on his hip, dipping you down to lay on his desk. He grinned down at you and started to open his mouth to say something but was stopped short by a hurried knock against the glass.

"Carrillo!" Javier called from the other side of the office door.

"Go away," he returned, throwing his voice in the direction of the door, leaning down to kiss your breasts.

"Messina needs us. We got a hit off of the wire taps--it could be Escobar." There was a pause as he tried the door but it was still locked. "We gotta go!"

Carrillo's shoulders fell slightly and ran a hand over his face before helping you sit up. "Coming!" He helped you pull your dress over your breasts and started buttoning his shirt back up. "Lo siento, mi amor." He said quietly and you shook your head.

"It's okay." You bit your lip as you watched him tuck his shirt back into his pants and he hissed softly. "Sorry about that," you nodded towards the bulge against his zipper as he did his belt.

He chuckled and kissed you on the cheek, bending over to pick up your thong and held it out to you in offering. "I'm not. It'll give me something to look forward to when this search comes up empty like all of the others."

You took your underwear from him and smiled as you slipped off of his desk and put them back on. "I take it I should put the food in the fridge?"

He nodded and put his hands on his hips as he watched you fondly finish redressing. "I'll be home late."

You cupped his face giving his cheek a gentle pat and a nod. "And I'll be asleep." You smiled as best you could but you knew he could see the twinge of sadness in the corners of your mouth. The number of times he crawled into bed in the wee hours of the morning far outweighed the number of times the two of you got to go to bed at the same time.

Carrillo grabbed your hand before you could turn away and kissed your knuckles, squeezing your hand as tightly as he could without hurting you. As he walked to the door and unlocked it, he looked over his shoulder and said seriously, "I love you."

"I love you, too," you barely managed to get out before he unlocked the door and he and Javier walked briskly down the hall, leaving you to tidy up and head home.

--

When the knock at your front door came, you were already in bed and sound asleep. The oscillating fan of your bedroom was breathing a cool breeze across your body as you snuggled deeper into the comforter. The bed hugged you like it knew you better than anyone else in the world, and apart from your husband, it probably did. The knock came again and you groaned because it meant that you hadn't been dreaming about the first one.

You leaned up and pushed your hair to the side, looking at the side table that held your alarm clock and a lamp. "Fuck," you mumbled as bright red numbers told you it was almost three in the morning. Three AM? Where the hell was Horacio? You touched his side of the bed as if to confirm what your eyes were already telling you--he still hadn't come home.

The knock came again.

"Shit," you cursed again, turning on the lamp and opening the drawer to grab the hand gun that you knew was there.

The 9mm felt cool in the palm of your hand as you checked the magazine for ammo before slamming it into place and pulling the cartridge back to slide a single bullet down the chamber. You grabbed your robe and wrapped it around your shoulders, tying it tightly and hurrying across the bedroom barefoot. You saw the flashing red and blue lights outside the front room window as they ran along the walls of your home, chasing each other over and over, casting shadows on the entire room. The fact that there were no sirens paired with them made you feel uneasy--that was never a good sign.

The knock came again, this time it was apparent that whoever it was was pounding their fist against the wooden paneling of the door. Leaning up on your tip-toes you looked out the peephole and recognized the somber face of Javier Peña. You hurried and put the gun on the table in the mudroom before flinging open the front door and asking him accusingly.

"Javi?? Do you have any idea what time it is?" Your voice sounded foreign even to you. Your heart hammered against your ribs as your eyes frantically searched the two police cars behind him for your husband.

"(Y/n)..." Javier said quietly as he leaned against your door frame, one hand in the pocket of his leather jacket.

"What's wrong?" You said as he shifted uncomfortably on your doorstep. In the back of your mind you already knew what he was about to tell you, but you wanted him to say it. If he didn't say the words out loud then they would never become real. The news he was about to give you was a stone, and unless he threw it, it would never be allowed to shatter your entire existence.

"There's been an accident." He said flatly, forcing himself to look you in the eyes. You glanced over his shoulder and saw Steve leaning against the hood of the Jeep with his arms crossed, looking at the ground. The other officers in uniform wouldn't look at you either and you knew your next question was a foolish one.

"Is he hurt?" You asked in a meek voice. Hurt you could handle. Hurt you could work with. But you knew before you even opened the door tonight that hoping that he was only hurt was a faulicy that your brain entertained purely to keep you from fainting on the hardwood floor.

"(Y/n)," Javier tried again, moving his arms from the door frame as he started to put his hands on your shoulders.

"I need to see him," you blurted out as Javi's hands clasped your biceps. You tried to shove him off. If he touched you, it was over. If he held you it was all over. If Horacio Carrillo was alive then he would have already told you to get dressed and get in the car. No, comfort meant trying to diffuse the ticking time bomb that was a woman about to learn that she was a widow.

"I can't--" Javier tried and you jerked your arms out of his grasp.

"Take me to him, Javi. Let me see him!"

"I can't do that. There's nothing--"

"Shut up! Don't you dare--" you raised your hands and he was faster than you and grabbed both of your wrists, holding them to his chest. "Don't you fucking dare! Where is he? Where's my husband--"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated as you finally gave in.

He kept his hands on your arms as your knees buckled out from under you and you slowly sank to the concrete stoop. Javi followed you down, pulling you against his leather jacket and letting you scream against his chest. You would have screamed all night if your vocal cords would have allowed it. But it wasn't long before the screaming turned to sobs and the sobbing turned to silent gasps as your body couldn't seem to figure out the appropriate noise to make to express your anguish.

You felt his voice against your hair as he spoke Spanish softly in your ear. Only catching half of it, you nodded helplessly as he told you it had been a quick death, that it was no secret around the office how deeply Horacio loved you, and other forms of condolence that didn't do a damn thing to stop the meticulous tearing of your heart within your chest.

He was gone. Not even twelve hours ago he had been in your hands, against your skin, warm and alive and looking at you with those gorgeous brown eyes. And now...nothing. You felt Javi's hand in your hair as you heard Steve's boots approaching the both of you quietly and respectfully. They were trying. They had been saddled with the task of telling you because they were friends of the Colonel. But as the tears started up again and you felt Javi's arms tighten around your shoulders, you desperately wished they belonged to someone else.

--

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[schnees-and-schnugs]

I’m going to create a canon divergence that is so self indulgent- *insert willow-whitley and kitty AU*

This is a concept I want to write in multiple short parts until I get bored and wear it out- so consider this just a pt. 1

I also wrote this with these last few   fics in mind, so you can think of this as a continuation of those. Or not. But a lot of the same themes do apply.

This is probably going to be first fic that I don’t write in one/two sittings but my classes are a pain in the ass ;_;

tw: eating disorder, alcoholism 

_______________________________________________________________

  “I want a cat.”

  Willow blinked. “What?”

  Her son fidgeted nervously on his feet. “A cat. I want to adopt a cat.”

  Well this is a... surprise. 

  Despite her and Whitley having lived on their own in Patch for a few months, he’s hardly spoken a world to her since the fall of Atlas. Or spoken a word to anyone, really. She put it up to the radically new environment, and well, the fact that Atlas is gone, the SDC is in shambles, and Jacques had been MIA (probably dead) since the fall. Winter and Weiss had insisted that Willow and Whitley settle down somewhere quiet and safe, and the islands off the coast of Vale weren’t exactly next on Salem’s attack checklist. 

  It was two of Weiss’ teammates who suggested they head to Patch, even offering to let their father know about their arrival. Willow had gently denied the kind offer, saying that Tai Xiao Long didn’t need to bother with them. They’ll be fine. She pretending not to notice the look on all their faces: a depressed alcoholic and her previously isolated, emotionally traumatized son?  Fine on their own? 

  She had then turned around, gathered Whitley (who was sitting on the bench behind her, ignoring attempts made by a few of Weiss’ companions to cheer him up even a little), and bought tickets for the next ship going from Vacuo to Vale.

  Yet when the ship docked on the shore of the island, there stood a blonde, muscular man with a sign that read: Willow and Whitley Schnee, Welcome! in sharpie. He must have saw the confusion (and honestly a little fear) on her face from his standpoint on the harbor because he had quickly flipped the sign over and scribbled on it before holding it up again. My name is Tai Xiao Long. Yang and Ruby’s Father.

  It seems that Weiss’ friends didn’t listen to me.

  Nevertheless, Willow had breathed a sigh of relief. She had quite a few run ins with people on the journey east who recognized her and/or Whitley. The interactions have ranged from stares that were a little too long to pure hostility. It also didn’t help that some people thought it was okay to just grab any well known person they see- she almost broke a man’s arm after he had suddenly seized Whitley’s wrist and jerked him around. He’d probably be dead if Winter and Weiss were there, but Willow had settled on ripping the mans arm away with a glyph and dragging Whitley off quickly.  

  And now here they are, three months later and Willow was drinking a can of soda while enjoying the afternoon breeze on the front porch of their little cabin when Whitley approached her.

  “A cat. I want to adopt a cat.”

  She looked up at her son’s face and saw a familiar look of apprehension that everyone in their family had when faced with the prospect of having to ask for anything. Of course, before it usually involved asking Jacques, or begging more so. Willow had to approach this carefully or else Whitley is just going to recede back into his shell and not speak a word for another three months.

  “Well... we can ask Mr. Xiao Long about it. He surely would know about any animal shelters around here.”

  He scrunched up his nose, a face that she knew in Whitley Terms meant yeah okay... but I’m not happy about it.

  Willow knew better than to suspect that Whitley disliked Mr. Xiao Long specifically. He avoided everyone these days- friendly neighbors, SDC businessmen, etc. Tai had made sure they were comfortable every step of the way. He had shown them around, introduced them to soon-to-be friends, brought them into his home for meals until Willow figured out her way around a kitchen, even invited Whitley to study at Signal Academy. He refused, but Willow appreciated the offer. And she knew Whitley appreciated it too, but he’s having a hard enough time coming to terms with Willow’s protectiveness of him, much less accept the fact that a stranger may also care slightly about him.   

 “Then what do you suggest we do?” Willow couldn’t help but to smile at his childish apprehension. She relished any show of adolescence in her son these days. After years of walking on eggshells and maintaining a facade just short of perfection, he needed to clumsily blunder around like any young teenager would do.

  Whitley tugged at his long red sleeves. “There’s a stray kitten that comes around here at night...” 

  “You have that one in mind?”

  He nodded. “I always hear it meowing outside my window. I want to try to bring it inside- I leave scraps outside my window but it always disappears by the time the sun rises. Maybe if I could get it to come to the porch... In Atlas, they said in the animal shelter that it takes a few weeks to socialize a kitten.”

  He started at her expectantly. Willow had forgotten that Whitley would occasionally volunteer at one of the few animal shelters in Atlas. Jacques only allowed him to go just so he could milk all the PR he could out of it, obviously. But to this day, she had never actually heard Whitley speak about it unprompted. It must have been something he genuinely liked if he was so quiet about it. He knew full well that any hobby that he actually outwardly enjoyed was the first on Jacques’ chopping block if Whitley ever slipped up. 

  Willow stood up on the porch steps and faced her son. “Very well then. Tonight we’ll leave food out on the front porch and watch to see if it comes by.”

  Whitley’s face brightened for the first time in months. “Really?”

  “Mmhm.” She hummed. “Hopefully soon enough the kitten will like us and come inside...”

  Willow’s chest ached at the overwhelming surprise on his face. Asking Jacques for anything always came with a catch, a quid pro quo. Looking back, Willow always knew love was a transaction to him. But being young and blinded by the man- she just accepted it as a slight character flaw. Whitley didn’t know anything other than this.

  She was going to get him this kitten even if she had to crawl in the shrubbery at midnight looking for it.

  For the next few hours he assisted Willow in the kitchen for the first time since they got to Patch. Mostly because he wanted to get the kittens food out as fast as he could, but she wasn’t complaining. She watched as Whitley cut up a cooked chicken breast into bite sized little pieces, his tongue slightly sticking out as he concentrated. She wondered, briefly, if it was safe to allow him to handle a kitchen knife. Willow shook the thought away. He isn’t a child. She wouldn’t insult him by treating him like one. But she still had to be a mother... if it wasn’t too late.

  She tried to be as hands off as she could in these last few months while trying to muster what parental authority she could without scaring Whitley away. He was free to spend his time to do whatever he liked just as long as it was safe and he went to bed on time. Eating three solid meals a day was also a requirement, but that was a sensitive issue that Willow didn’t know how to approach with conviction. He has been cooperative for the most part in this aspect- which came as a surprise since Whitley has spent years trying to maintain whatever little control he had over his own life by strictly regulating what went inside his mouth and when. Which often meant very little eating.

  Willow didn’t want to name the condition out loud. If she did, then it would become a problem. Then she would have to admit that all of this still wasn’t enough to fix everything. Then she would start wanting a drink-

  Maybe everyone was right. Maybe her and Whitley were simply too broken to be able to live on their own.

  But they haven’t been living on their own, have they? Mr. Xiao Long still came by a few times a week to “check up on how y’all are adapting”, as he says. More like to make sure I’m not passed out drunk and Whitley hadn’t taken the opportunity to jump off a cliff, Willow thought bitterly.

  She still didn’t know how much Weiss and her friends told him - but they must have been pretty honest if he was going to be this concerned. Willow cringed at the thought of how he must see her - a failure of a mother. Not only that, but one who’s too afraid to confront the fact that her son is sick and needs help, but she can’t help because she’s not enough-

  “I’m done.”

  Willow blinked out of her increasingly chaotic thoughts to see Whitley holding a small bowl of chopped chicken, staring at her expectantly.

  Maybe I should stop thinking so much.

  “Lets put it out on the front porch then,” Willow grabbed both their plates of spaghetti off the kitchen counter. “We can eat by the window and watch for the kitten.”

  Whitley frowned. “Can we keep the front door open? Maybe if it sees us enough times then it will get used to us eventually.”

  “Whatever you want darling,” She replied, already on her way to the living room.

  And so they sat eating dinner, she on the edge of the couch and he on the floor on front of the open door. They sat in silence, but it was a comfortable one - Whitley watching the outside intently for the kitten and Willow watching him absentmindedly eat. A few minutes turned into an hour and she began to wonder if the kitten was going to show tonight, but a tiny scampering sound brought her and her son back to attention.

  The kitten emerged from the shrubbery.

  It was beautiful.

  It was small, only about a few weeks old. Its pitch black fur made it almost impossible to see without the aid of the moonlight. Its little white socks on its paws and glowing eyes gave it away as it inched slowly towards the now cold bowl of chicken. 

  Willow held her breath, and she knew Whitley was too. The kitten tentatively ate from the bowl, unaware of the two humans watching it. It seemed about half way through when Whitley, unknowing, leaned forward- causing his now empty plate to slide off his lab and hit the wood floor. The sound wasn’t loud, but in the silence of the night it was like a gunshot.

  The kitten’s head snapped up, ears perked in attention. For an almost comical millisecond, the kitten stared at the two of them and they stared back, everyone wide eyed. Then it turned and ran off back where it came, leaving behind nothing but a bowl of half eaten chicken.

  Willow braced herself for Whitley’s inevitable disappointment. But instead, when she turned toward him she saw an expression of joy. His eyes are brighter than she had ever seen them, not since he was a child.

  “She’s a girl,” He said.

  She furrowed her brow. “How do you know that?”

  “When she turned around and ran - I saw her backside. I think she’s a girl.”

  Willow smiled. “Very well then. One discovery is good enough for tonight.”

  Standing up, she reached for both of their used dishes and softly closed the front door shut. “Time for bed.”

    Whitley didn’t complain. He headed off the bed while Willow cleaned up the kitchen- a menial task that she never had to do back in atlas. But she found a peace in it. If given the choice, she would take a lifestyle of chores over the decadent one she had before. Ten times out of ten. This felt real.

  In the back of her mind, she remembered the chicken left outside. After considering, she decided to leave it out in case the kitten came back. She would make sure that Whitley would have this kitten eventually. It was the least she could do.

[lobster-tales]

Modern AU - Rangshi

Day 5 of Winter ATLA Femslash Week. This fic is available here on AO3. 

Prompt: Bending or Modern AU 

Kyoshi and Rangi arrive at prom, only to be accosted by bullies. Usually Kyoshi would back down, but not this time. Basically every American high school rom com.

CW: bullying, language, implied drug/alcohol use, blood

Warrior paint looked different on everyone. Tonight, Kyoshi’s took the form of bold red eyeshadow and heavy winged eyeliner. She stared at her reflection, counting the freckles. She could have put foundation on them, covered them up, but she had decided against it. 

A voice came from downstairs. “Kyoshi! Your friend is here!”

She scrambled, rising so fast that she nearly knocked over the makeshift vanity. “Coming!” she called. Kyoshi bowed her head beneath the low ceiling, smoothing the folds of the green dress. She paused at the stairway of her attic room, doing a mental checklist of everything she needed. Kyoshi brushed a finger to her bare lips, returning to the vanity. She took a tube of crimson lipstick in her hands. 

At the base of the stairs, Rangi stood at attention, her arms behind her back. She noticed Kelsang, Kyoshi’s adoptive father, staring at her, and nodded curtly. Kelsang stood behind the counter of his bakery, using a wet rag to wipe the same spot over and over. His shop was technically still open, but Rangi and he were the only ones inside. She stood out against the homely chairs and tables, with her neatly fitted suit and black topknot. 

Kelsang cleared his throat. “So… You and Kyoshi are…”

“Dating, yes.” Rangi made quick work of conversation. “We’ve been dating for several weeks, actually.”

“Really?” Kelsang mindlessly wiped flour off his apron. “She didn’t tell me.”

“Well, I’m telling you now.” Rangi realized she was being too curt and decided to switch tactics. “I... like your bakery. Kyoshi brought me some of your red bean buns, and they were delicious.”

“Thank you.”

“Soft on the inside, but crispy on the outside. And the red bean paste was very…” Her mind raced as she tried to think of an appropriate adjective. “... Beany.”

To her surprise, the intimidating man began to laugh. “Yeah, you two are definitely a match,” he chuckled. “How did you meet?”

Before Rangi could respond, the stairs creaked. They both fixed their attention on Kyoshi. She slowly descended from her attic room, ducking under a beam as she did so. 

Her dress was nothing spectacular. The glossy emerald fabric rose from her waistline, crossed over her chest. Sleeves sprouted from her shoulders, draping along her arms and gathering at her wrists. The only visible piece of her olive skin was her breastbone, but even that felt revealing to her. The skirt was designed to pool at the floor, but instead hung inches above her ankles. Kyoshi preferred it that way, in case she needed to make a quick escape. This sentiment was reflected in the practical, black flats on her feet, the only ones in her size.

Rangi’s mouth had dropped completely, her usually fierce face wracked with awe. Kelsang recovered from the sight before she did, and he stepped out from behind the counter. He embraced Kyoshi, saying, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Kelsang.” Kyoshi returned her attention to Rangi, who had regained her composure long enough to stick out her arm. 

“My… lady.” Rangi had never said those words in her life, but felt there was nothing more appropriate to call her date. 

As Kyoshi took Rangi’s arm in hers, Kelsang snapped his fingers. “Wait! Pictures!”

The two girls groaned. Kyoshi tried to dissuade him. “Kelsang-” 

“Nope. Against the wall, now.” He held up an ancient disposable camera. “Say cheese!”

Neither of them smiled. The light flashed, signalling their freedom. Before Kelsang could rewind the film, Rangi had dragged Kyoshi to the door. “I’ll have her back by 10, sir.”

Kelsang shook his head. “Actually, I’ll be leaving the shop at 8, so you should have her back by midnight at the earliest.” He flashed them a grin. “Have fun, you two! Enjoy it!”

Kyoshi tried to think of something profound to say, but only released a casual, “Bye” before the door shut behind them. 

***

The girls basketball team had tried to recruit Kyoshi all through her first year of high school. At the beginning of her second, she had caved. She had arrived at practice ten minutes late, failed to dribble the ball, and missed eighteen shots in a row. After that, the team had quickly lost interest, and Kyoshi had never expected to set foot on the gymnasium floor again. 

Until now. 

Kyoshi and Rangi approached the throng of high schoolers, all dancing together in a sweaty mass. Kyoshi easily saw above their heads, and was surprised at how well the prom committee had decorated. A makeshift stage had been set up beneath one of the goal posts, silky curtains providing a backdrop. Christmas lights hung in waves against the walled bleachers. Every so often, a balloon would be punched through the air, and the dancers would throw their hands up to keep it airborne. 

She noticed Rangi eyeing her, and returned her concern with a smile. Kyoshi was out of her element here, but she felt braver on Rangi’s arm. A few heads turned as they made their way along the edge of the group. Most of the glances were just that, and the dancers ignored her again. 

Rangi led her to a seat near the side of the gym, leaning close to her ear so she would be heard over the pounding music. “I’ll get us some punch.”

Kyoshi responded with a nod, and her date disappeared. She leaned back in the chair, drinking in the sight of the dancers. Without thinking, Kyoshi tapped her foot along with the music, and briefly fantasized about pulling Rangi onto the floor. 

A silhouette interrupted her thoughts. Kyoshi looked up to see three people stalking towards her like wildcats, blocking the bright lights. 

“So,” Aoma said from the center of the trio, crossing her arms over her heavily sequined gown. “You decided to come.”

Kyoshi hesitated, but only briefly. “I did.”

On Aoma’s left, Suzu cocked a carefully filled in eyebrow. “And with Topknot.”

Kyoshi stifled a laugh, thinking of all the horrible names they had called her from their preschool days to now. It eased her to know that Rangi was too feared to be referred to as anything genuinely cruel. “Her name is Rangi.”

“Oh trust me,” Jae chimed in from the right. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his tuxedo. “We know.”

“We’re good friends with her,” Aoma said. A smirk played on her mouth. “Real good.”

On any other day, Kyoshi would have suffered their petty attacks silently. Easier to let them take out their feelings on her than to fight back. Neutral jing. But today was inexcusable. She rose to her feet, straightened her spine, and lifted her chin. Her gaze was neutral towards them, almost bored. “Are you now? Funny that she didn’t ask you to prom, then.”

Jae and Suzu exchanged worried glances. Aoma’s smirk dissipated, but she maintained eye contact. “Oh please, like she actually wanted to go with you.”

Kyoshi had thought her new armor was impenetrable. Turns out there was a chink in it after all. “What are you talking about?”

Seeing she’d regained the upper hand, Aoma eyes flickered. “So she didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?” 

Aoma released a callous chuckle. “Come on, Kyoshi. You really think someone like Rangi would want to date someone like you?”

“An orphan,” Jae sneered. 

“A poor orphan,” Suzu added eloquently. 

Those were facts, and nothing Kyoshi hadn’t heard before. But Aoma was holding back something new. Kyoshi felt like she would have wrung Aoma’s neck to get the truth out of her glossed lips. Instead, she settled for a low voice. “What do you know?”

Aoma flipped her wavy hair over one shoulder, saying casually, “It was a bet, Kyoshi. We told Rangi that if she took you to prom, we’d pay her 200 dollars.” Her smile became vicious. “Of course, even that almost wasn’t enough to convince her.”

Her mouth felt dry. Kyoshi had grown accustomed to picking out Aoma’s lies, but this time, her face showed no tell. She was sincere, if not wickedly pleased with herself. 

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she turned before they fell. She refused to give them more satisfaction. Kyoshi forced herself to relax as she walked towards the exit. As far as anyone could see, she was just going to the bathroom. 

The school hallways held a different aura at night. There was no glaring fluorescence, no crowd of backpacks and sneakers. Her vision narrowed to the stairwell, and she shoved against the door so hard that the lip-locked couples within jumped. 

She had hoped to be alone, but refused to back down from her decision. Kyoshi disappeared, past their staring faces, around the corner to the next floor. Before she reached the top step, tears cascaded down her cheeks. Kyoshi turned and perched on the stair, wrapping her arms around her knees. 

She had to try and think straight. Focus. Aoma must have been lying. That was the only logical conclusion. 

Her mind raced to that day, when Rangi first approached her in the library. Rangi had commented on the book she was reading. Now, Kyoshi couldn’t even remember what the book was called, just Rangi’s face, illuminated by the soft afternoon light. 

She pulled her knees to her chest, filing through memories of the last two months: late study nights, trips to the diner, anime marathons. The sound of Rangi’s laugh, the pressure of her lips…

Kyoshi heard the stairwell door open, followed by the scuffling of the couples. Only one thing could make them scatter so quickly. 

“Kyoshi?” Rangi’s voice called. “Are you there?”

She said nothing, but her sniffles betrayed her location. 

Rangi paused, then said, “I uh… talked to Aoma. She told me…” Rangi sighed. “I- I don’t know what to-”

“Is it true?” Kyoshi’s voice sounded colder than she intended. 

“... Yeah. It’s true.”

Kyoshi buried her face in her arms, struggling to steady her breathing.

“But it’s not like that, Kyoshi! I promise, I never meant to-”

“Never meant to what?” Kyoshi stood, fueled by rage as she rounded the stairwell and pierced Rangi with her eyes. “To lead me on? Lie to me?”

Rangi climbed the steps towards her, hands out. “Please, don’t be angry, I didn’t-”

“Don’t tell me what to feel!” Her lip curled. “And don’t come any closer!”

Rangi froze. She was only a few steps away. At the close distance, Kyoshi could see the wetness in her bronze eyes, but found no sympathy within herself. “Kyoshi-”

“You know, Rangi, if you wanted to make fun of me, you could have at least had the courtesy to do it to my face like everyone else.” 

This time, Rangi said nothing. She searched Kyoshi’s face, then silently knelt in front of her. “I’m sorry.”

Kyoshi’s fury softened at the sight. Her hands trembled, and she sank wearily onto the top step. “Why?” she said quietly. 

“Because… I liked you.”

Kyoshi’s breath caught in her throat. Her shaking hands went still. 

Rangi said, “You… you always said the right answer in class. Even though the teacher didn’t call on you that much. I would see Aoma picking on you, but you never gave in to her. Just stood strong and… grounded.” Her voice became quieter. “I… really admired that about you.”

Admirable. Kyoshi never thought anyone would describe her that way. 

“I overheard them one day,” Rangi said. “Aoma and her cronies. They were talking about who they should place the bet with. I knew if I didn’t put myself in their line of vision, they would choose someone who would really hurt you.” She winced. “Though… I guess you got hurt either way.”

Kyoshi raised her head slightly, peering at Rangi.

She continued. “Everything I said was just to play along. I’d already decided that if you didn’t like me back, I wouldn’t even ask about prom. I’d tell Aoma the truth and threaten to beat her up if she ever pulled that shit again.” Rangi let out a harsh chuckle at the thought. “But then… you and I started hanging out. You were so interesting, and funny, and…” 

“... Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Rangi looked at her, relieved to hear her voice again. “I should have! I know, but I wanted to wait until after prom. After I…” She ran her hand behind her neck sheepishly. “After I bought you a really fancy dinner.”

Kyoshi scoffed, but the sound held no anger. 

“Look…” Rangi rose onto the top step, sitting beside Kyoshi. “I know… I know how bad they treated you. The way they still treat you. There were so many times I wanted to intervene, but I never did.” She grimaced. “I just walked by, left you to face them alone. And when I heard them talking about it… I thought of this whole thing as a sneakier way to fight. For you.”

“You don’t have to fight for me.”

“But I do, Kyoshi.” Rangi took her hand, bronze eyes gazing intently into hers. “And I will. Because you are worth fighting for.”

Kyoshi removed her fingers from Rangi’s grasp. Her betrayal was still too fresh. “I’m sorry, I just… I don’t know if I can trust you.” She averted her eyes. “How am I supposed to know that you’re not just saying this? That after tonight, you won’t just leave?”

Rangi paused, mind racing. She took a breath of finality, rising to her feet and outstretching her hand. “Come on.”

Rangi briefly returned to the gym, but rather than stay by the door, Kyoshi went to the bathroom to wait. She was surprised to see her makeup mostly unsmudged, save for a few lines. Kyoshi fixed her appearance as best as she could, exiting the bathroom to see Rangi leaning against the wall. Rangi took Kyoshi’s hand and said, “They’re meeting us after the next song.”

The front entrance of the school was unguarded. The concrete steps rose in a semi-circle around the doors, with a bronze statue of a fox, the school mascot, in the center. Kyoshi and Rangi stood behind the statue facing the school, spines straight, hands clasped. 

Within minutes, Aoma, Jae, and Suzu appeared. They stalked towards them in their same positions as before, with Aoma in the center. She stopped several feet away, hands on her hips as she raised an eyebrow. “No… don’t tell me.” Her tone was more mocking than shocked. “Really, Rangi? I didn’t take you for the pity date type.”

Rangi’s free hand clenched into a fist. “It’s not a pity date, Aoma. Kyoshi’s my girlfriend.”

Aoma rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Your Stockholm syndrome isn’t my problem.” She snapped her fingers at Jae. “Here’s your money.”

Jae reached into his jacket, pulling out a short stack of 20 dollar bills. He tossed them on the ground at Rangi and Kyoshi’s feet. Kyoshi frowned at the paper. She should have felt humiliated, but instead she was disappointed by the small amount. 

“Keep it,” Rangi spat. “That’s not why I asked you out here.”

Aoma’s concerned glance at Rangi’s fist did not go unnoticed by Kyoshi. “Then why are you wasting our time?”

Rangi squeezed Kyoshi’s hand once before letting go, reaching for the phone in her pocket. She opened a video, stretching her hand out to show Aoma. Kyoshi didn’t see the contents, but she heard loud music, a sniffing noise, and cheering. Aoma’s face went white. 

“You… You wouldn’t…” Aoma said. 

“Not cool, Rangi,” Jae growled, coming to Aoma’s defense. “We didn’t have to invite you to our parties.”

“Oh, but I’m so glad you did,” Rangi said sarcastically, swiping a few times on the phone screen. Another video began to play, and this time Kyoshi heard a crowd cheering the word “Chug!”, followed by a loud crash. 

Jae’s jaw stiffened, but he kept quiet. 

Rangi glanced at Suzu. “I got yours too; wanna see?”

Suzu’s face flushed. “No, I uh… I believe you.”

Rangi huffed victoriously, placing her phone back in her pocket. “Trust me, there’s plenty more where that came from. See, the fun thing about you three is that you like to brag. I have pages and pages worth of text conversations, about your parties, your exam cheat sheets, the bet-”

“Who cares about the fucking bet!” Aoma snarled, her usual aloof composure wrecked by anger. She pointed a manicured nail at Kyoshi. “You think anybody gives a shit about her?!”

“I do,” Rangi said in a low, threatening voice. 

Aoma, empowered by her rage, said, “Just get to the fucking point already. If you don’t want the money, Rangi, then what the fuck do you want?”

“I want you to leave Kyoshi alone.” Rangi narrowed her eyes. “I don’t want you to hurt her ever again.”

Aoma scoffed. “So that’s what this is about.” She crossed her arms. “You know Rangi, I don’t get you. You were living the dream with us; you could have picked any tall girl you wanted, and you’re going to throw it all away for this freak.”

Rangi took a single step forward, but the action was enough to make the three bullies flinch. “Don’t call her that. See, that’s the kind of shit I’m talking about. Either that ends tonight-” She lifted her phone out of her pocket. “-or say goodbye to your trust fund.”

“You bitch!” Jae leapt forward, tackling Rangi against the pavement. She clung tight to her phone, sliding it towards Kyoshi as Jae grappled her arm. Kyoshi snatched the phone, looking up to see Aoma and Suzu prowling towards her. 

Jae straddled Rangi, his legs pinning her arms to the ground, and swung at her face. His knuckles collided with her temple, and her head crashed against the concrete. 

“Rangi!” Kyoshi moved to help, but Aoma and Suzu closed in, surrounding her. 

Aoma hissed, “If you don’t give me that phone, Kyoshi, I will ruin your life. Your little girlfriend might need receipts, but I don’t. It doesn’t matter what I tell the school. They’ll take my word over yours any day.”

She could give in. Give them the phone, survive today. Kyoshi had faced the choice so many times before, and always chose neutral jing. 

Kyoshi grit her teeth. “No.” 

Aoma’s face contorted with fury, and she hurled her open palm towards Kyoshi’s cheek. Kyoshi blocked Aoma’s wrist with her own, delivering a swift punch to her diaphragm. Aoma staggered back, gasping for breath. 

Kyoshi glanced at Rangi. Jae was now pinned beneath her, Rangi delivering one final blow before she stood. Jae scrambled to his feet, cowering behind Aoma. Suzu had disappeared, retreating to the safety of the school. Aoma’s breath came ragged, murder burning in her eyes. 

“Enough of this.” Everyone’s eyes landed on Kyoshi, and she realized the stern voice belonged to her. She paused for a moment, but steeled herself and continued, “We’re done here.”

Aoma growled, “No, we’re-” but stopped dead when Rangi held up her fists. She pressed her lips together, shooting them each one more glare before she huffed. “Come on, Jae.” Aoma slunk back towards the school, Jae trailing meekly behind her as he muttered something about going home.

Before Kyoshi could move, Rangi was in front of her, checking her face. “Are you okay? Did she hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” Kyoshi said with a smile. Her finger traced Rangi’s swollen temple, causing her to wince. “Are you?”

“I’ve had worse.” Rangi frowned, murmuring, “I’m sorry. For everything. I know this was all… a lot, and I didn’t-”

Kyoshi cut Rangi off with a kiss. They relaxed for a moment, relishing in the warmth of each other. Kyoshi finally broke away, grinning as she pressed her forehead to Rangi’s. “Don’t worry,” she said, removing Rangi’s phone and a wad of cash from her dress pocket. “At least you made it worth my while.”

Rangi gaped. “But… You…”

“Come on.” Kyoshi took her hand, pulling her back towards the school. 

“You want to go back in?” Rangi asked, trotting to keep up with her long strides. 

Kyoshi had spent her whole life waiting and listening. Now, she was ready to act. “It’s prom, Rangi.” She smirked, kissing her girlfriend’s knuckles. “And I want to dance with you.”

[lettersfromn0where]

ZFAW: Self-Love Saturday

For the last day of @zkfanworkweek!

It’s no secret that I love writing more than almost anything in existence, or that I’m somewhat absurdly passionate about my work. I’m well aware that a handful of people probably think this is annoying (how many people who have had the misfortune to be in any kind of chat with me never want to hear the name “Hina Oyama” again? Probably most of them), and I was hesitant to do this at all because I know I can be self-centered and I’m trying to work on that. But I realized that I’m not doing this for feedback or because I want people to read my work - if I were to talk about my fic like this, it would be coming from a place of excitement about sharing something I love with others, not about finding new readers. (Have I done a little too much networking of that kind? Yes. Am I proud of it? Not at all. That’s why I had to make sure that that wasn’t why I was doing this.) 

So I’m going to go for it, and give you guys the background behind a few of my favorite things I’ve written. Stories below the cut. 

Story #1: The One That Taught Me That It’s Okay to Fail As a Writer

and I'll write you a tragedy (June 2020)

I wrote this back in June, when I was first getting into AtLA - I think it was my third or fourth published Zutara fanfic. I didn’t have many friends yet; most of the ones I talked to at the time, I've since lost touch with. So my participation in the fandom was largely isolated. I’d just write things and yeet them into the void without a care in the world - that’s what I did with “And I’ll Write You a Tragedy.” I had this grand idea that it would be ~the angstiest thing ever written~ and I was SO excited to get home (I was at the beach when I got the idea) so I could work on it...

Only to find that I simply wasn’t ready for the story I was trying to tell.

Oh, I wrote it, and it was...decently well-reviewed for something that caused me so much existential angst. But it fell so short of the concept that I had for it that, the moment I hit “post,” I was so frustrated that burst into tears. (Like a kindergartner. One can never say I deserve to be called an adult.) I wanted to establish myself in this new fandom so badly that anything I perceived as substandard was a crushing failure. And it was the process of talking myself through that frustration that taught me something I’ve tried to hold close ever since: every writer writes a dud every once in a while. No one is at the top of their game 100% of the time; those who appear to be probably don’t post the duds. Should I have posted this, then? Well, the jury is out on that. I still hate it. But it deserves a spot here just for the lesson it taught me. 

Story #2: the One That Broke the Angst Ceiling 

who lives, who dies, who tells your story (July 2020)

I have no idea how this took my angst from the coltish awkwardness of “sort of sad, but not very well-done” to genuinely depressing, but it did. Maybe I should blame quarantine and all of the difficulties that brought with it, or just the additional writing experience I had gained by that time. Whatever the reason, I remember this - even though it never got very popular - as an absolute triumph for me as a writer, because this is when I FINALLY learned how to write effective angst. For *years* I had thought I was simply incapable of writing anything sad, but this showed me that I wasn’t. I’ll never understood what flipped the switch (maybe it was @hiniwalay, whose help in forming this idea was invaluable...I love and miss you so much <3), but it’s a very important part of my writing journey even so. 

Story #3: The One That Got Inexplicably Popular

Tethered (Zutara Week - written in June 2020, posted in late July 2020)

Zutara Week 2020 was sort of the point at which I established myself in this fandom and I have super fond memories of the warm reception I received at the time. It was such a positive, encouraging experience - and perhaps the one and only time that people have actually wanted to indulge my somewhat ridiculous obsession with fluff. And this was sort of the peak of my entrance into the ZK fandom. 

And I am...not sure how I feel about that. 

Soulmate AUs are obviously super popular, so I knew that “Tethered” was going to be one of my better-recieved ZKW fics if I did it even marginally well. What I did NOT expect was that, by the time of this post, it would be exactly tied with The Waiting Game for my most kudos’d work. It’s almost insane to me that that is a thing, because, while I don’t hate how “Tethered” came out, I definitely don’t feel like it deserved the hype it got. It’s...just another soulmate AU, but seeing that I was capable of writing something that people would gobble up did wonders for my confidence - and, I think, for my reputation in the fandom as well. It was definitely a mile-marker on my journey, even if I would rather it have been a different ZKW oneshot (this one was my favorite).

Story #4: The Twitter Favorite

Four Days and Three Nights (written August 2020)

I will never, ever forget the day I posted this. 

I joined a Zutara group chat on Twitter just before Zutara Week 2020 began, and I quickly became...a little bit desperate for their attention. “The Waiting Game” (much more on that later) sprung from that desperation, but this was the one that actually did something about it. Which is funny, because it was actually a complete accident! 4D3N, as it is affectionately called on Twitter, was the result of my dumb butt reading “Five,” thinking “I want to write something that depressing!”, and just...going for it. I told myself not to overthink things as I desperately banged out the 3166 words of this story in two hours (because I needed to go for a run before it got dark and didn’t start writing until 3), and that is probably the one and only time in my entire life that telling myself something like that actually worked. Writing 4D3N was just sort of this rush that I barely even had time to recognize while I was caught up in it and the result was something I genuinely felt that I could be proud of - that’s pretty rare. My Twitter friends went slightly insane, half of them wanted to stab me (in a good way), and I finally felt like I actually belonged in this fandom - like I had done something to earn a place there. [Caveat: fandom is for everyone and you never need to “earn the right” to be in one, but my brain latched onto the idea that I didn’t deserve to be creating things for a fandom that didn’t want me and would not let it go. Figures.] Lately, I’ve been struggling with this one a little bit because it’s getting a lot of comparisons to “Five” in which it never fares favorably, for obvious reasons, and it was never actually my favorite fic to begin with, but it still means a lot to me. This is the one I recommend to people who are curious about my work and probably always will be. 

Story #5: The Sleeper Favorite

Lean On (written August 2020)

I have no earthly idea why I like this one so much, but it has to be my favorite oneshot I have up. It’s hurt-comfort and dives into the implications of the Agni Kai for Zuko’s health, both physical and mental - maybe it’s the uniqueness of that premise that endeared it to me, or maybe the personal-ness...is that a word?...of the narrative. The bare-bones summary: Zuko’s health is declining a year after the Agni Kai, Katara shows up to do something about that, and what follows is a year of Pain and Heartache for both of them as they try to navigate their conflicting feelings for each other. But really, it’s a story about healing: physically, yes, but also mentally and emotionally. I certainly relate a lot to Katara in “Lean On,” as I’ve been the friend caught in the crossfire of others’ battles with their mental health many times and I wanted to try to write from both sides of that conflict. But I think I probably wrote more of myself into Zuko than I originally anticipated, as well. Quarantine has not been good for my mental health...at all...and I’ve found myself lashing out at my family far more than I should without even knowing why, isolating myself and growing thorns so that no one would come near me. I hate seeing myself like that, and I hate that I can't seem to make myself do anything about it. So really, I was hashing out my own feelings both past and present, and what I ended up with, whatever you might think of its quality, came from the heart. I also, for whatever reason, really liked my writing here, so I have a special place in my heart for “Lean On.” 

Story #6: The Fluff I Didn’t Hate

Waffleosophy (written September 2020)

Look, there's not a lot to say about this, but it’s definitely my favorite fluff that I’ve ever written. I felt like I finally managed to hit the right note with this so that it came off as sweet without being saccharine, and it feels...I don’t know, wittier than what I usually write? I write a lot of fluff but something about “Waffleosophy” made it feel more polished and coherent than most of my other fluff. This was one that, as ridiculous as its premise was, I felt like I could truly be proud of; since I’m often a bit ashamed of how much of my work is fluff (it feels like “cheating” sometimes, as if I write this way because I lack the skill for real emotional beats), that’s saying a lot. 

Story #7: the Insanely Niche AU

Once In a Lifetime (ongoing)

This one gets updated at the speed of snail, but. ZK ice dance AU. It just makes me so HAPPY. 

Story #8: The One That Actually Did What It Was Meant To Do

Hanabi (written October/November 2020)

This heading is ironic because this was originally supposed to be an angsty slow-burn about surviving on an uninhabited island. Instead, it became as unerringly Sarah S---- as any fic ever has. Oops. 

Hanabi sprung from a desire to write something incredibly soft and wholesome. Seriously. That’s it. I had just finished writing a story that got a lot more violent and dark than I had expected it to, and I wasn’t comfortable with that; I wanted to return to my roots, if you will, and write something ~soft~. I wanted to write about good people, doing good things, being good to each other, with as much tender pining as I could cram in on the side. I wanted unique worldbuilding and a relationship that had to be built rather than handed over under the guise of Soulmateism (because this was the period in which I hated The Waiting Game and everything it stood for, aka...that. It was a weird time). And I actually? Did all of that? There’s this F. Scott Fitzgerald quote about how writers have to “sell their hearts” that I think about often, and I did that here. This has as much of my heart in it as anything ever will, I think, and if I had to pick a favorite thing that I have ever written, it would be “Hanabi.” I love it a lot. 

Story #9: The One You Knew Was Coming

The Waiting Game series (written July-October 2020)

I have so many feelings about this that I can’t even really articulate them all. Where would I even start? 

There was the fact that the first installment was written in two weeks (thirteen days, 94,832 words) to try to get the attention of a Twitter chat. There was the matter of Hina Oyama, my blog’s namesake, an OC who took on an absolutely massive life of her own to the point where she was quite literally my coping mechanism over the summer and I annoy everyone I know by constantly banging on pots and pans and screaming about her. There was the way this universe spiraled outwards from its original installment and now has three generations, two sequels, and a prequel in progress (Hina’s origin story, which I am writing for a friend but will most likely never post). There were the friends I made because of this series and all of the inside jokes and headcanons we’ve developed while discussing it. There were all of the existential crises I had (over negative comments, over whether or not this career-defining series is even decent, over the moral implications of writing about people getting stabbed in the sequel...please don’t ask). There is the fact that everyone I come into contact with now knows what Haang is, and that by a close-reading of any passage about Hina or Kya, you could probably learn a lot about me. 

But all I can say, in the end, is that I don’t know if I’ve ever written something that I fell in love with so quickly as I did “The Waiting Game,” or that had as much lasting impact upon me. (It has been five months, and I’m STILL writing in this universe, still talking about it constantly.) I know my TWG obsession is a little annoying, and I know that this universe isn’t really anything special - but it’s special to me, and it always will be. Will I shut up? Abso-freaking-lutely not. Do I care if no one knows what my username means because it refers to an OC in a fic not a lot of people actually like? Not in the slightest! I won’t pretend that TWG is a perfect story, or even that it deserves to be thought of as particularly good, but I will absolutely defy anyone who tells me that I need to “get over it.” (No one has, but my brain likes to tell me that everyone is thinking it.) 

I will never be over stories that move me, especially not ones I created.

And especially not Yangchen Oyama. 

~finis~ 

[chrisrainicorn]

Fair Game Week Day 6: Atlas Ball

Posting a little late than usual but it’s for a good reason!

Ok so, my original plan for this was to make a comic of a short scene that I had in my mind, but when I was typing out the dialogue to plan it, I realized wow this is going to be so big and a pain to draw in just a few days, I wish I could just write it instead :/

And then I realized there’s nothing stopping me from doing exactly that lmao. So yeah, I wrote it, and it allowed me to go waaay further than I would go with the comic! So you can read that short fic under the cut (warning for extremely cheesy fluff bellow):

The music coming from the ballroom was dulled by the passing breeze flowing through the spacious balcony. It brought him an immediate feeling of relief, he was already getting sick of the same lifeless background waltz playing in an endless loop anyway. 

Qrow leaned his elbows against the marble rails, it felt cold to the touch and he appreciated the sensation. He had ditched the coat on his way up already, and now away from being surrounded by Atlas elite, fake laughs, boring music and trays of expensive drinks, he had to have some serious self-control to not jump off the railing and fly away from there.

He didn’t though. His nieces had been so excited about the ball and helping him pick his clothes, not being there when they would want to leave would break their hearts. And it’s not like the event was that bad, but he could only cause a certain number of waiters to stumble and see nearby couples stepping on each other's feet during their dance for so long before feeling like he needed to get out of there.

Yet it seemed he wasn’t going to be alone for long.

“Getting some fresh air?” He had heard the footsteps approach, only turning to look at the newcomer after the question. Clover stopped by his side, leaning against the railing in a position similar to his.

“Yeah, you could say that.” His lips curled up as he spoke. “This kind of thing can get boring real quick.”

“Tell me about it.” He let out a sigh, throwing his head back. His hairdo was slightly messier than usual, a few strands of his bangs refusing to stay up like the others, maybe he had been dancing… Qrow diverted his eyes away the moment Clover spoke up again. “The kids seem to be having fun though.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled lightly. Before leaving the main area, he had caught a glimpse of Yang and Blake on the dance floor and he would bet they would stay there for a while. Jaune, Oscar and Nora had been obsessing over the huge chocolate fountain, and it didn’t take long for them to drag poor Ren into their taste testing. Ruby had been by Weiss’ side, trying to distract her partner from being that close to people she previously was associated with - she also needed some support to walk on her stupid lady stilts so guess Weiss was there for that too. “It’s good to see them loosing up a bit.”

Clover didn’t say anything for a moment, Qrow looked over at him, finding him staring in that way that made the bottom of his stomach cold. “Don't you think that you should be trying to loosen up yourself?”

“I am-” No he wasn’t, if the way he had already had messed with his hair, taken off his coat and rolled his sleeves up, and he still felt like he needed to escape from something meant anything. “These events aren’t really my style.” Not a lie. “What about you? shouldn't you be charming the guest down there instead of acting like you're on patrol duty?”

“Ah, well...” Clover took his eyes off him a bit too quickly. And it took Qrow one more second for him to realize he had just used the word charming to describe his ways. “You can only put up polite smiles for so long before you need a break. And it's not like there's a lot to do…” He drummed his fingers on the marble for a moment before continuing, “I'm not much of a dancer.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, sending him a sideways glance. He could honestly imagine him as being a guy who would sweep people off their feet on a dance floor…

“Yeah.” Clover let out a bashful chuckle. “Good luck can get me to not trip on anyone's foot, but it doesn't make me good at it.”

“Well, that's hard to believe.” He scoffed. 

“Why?” Clover gave him a lopsided grin. “Want me to prove it to you?”

“Hm, what.” He snapped his head back to his direction, Clover stepped away from the railing.

"C'mon, we don't need to go on the dance floor though, it would be a disaster." He chuckled as he took his arm in a swift gesture, turning him away from the snowy landscape beyond the balcony. And Qrow followed without a word, without thinking, without resistance, just blinking as he was led towards the middle of the open space.

The music was still muffled by how far they were from the actual ballroom, and the sudden thudding inside his ears didn't help. They stopped in the center of the balcony, only a few feet apart, Clover switched the grip he had on his wrist for an offered open palm, and he waited. 

Only when he started to look unsure because of his lack of response, Qrow's brain decided to respond - after all, it was pretty rare to see the lucky charm himself to act unsure about something.

Clearing his throat, he adjusted his hand over the one that had taken his arm. Clover's smile brightened up in such a way it almost caused him to choke on his works before they even came out. Still, Qrow managed to speak up. "It sounds like it will be a disaster one way or another…” He grinned with an eyebrow tilt, as if he was just exchanging playful jabber before a mission instead of being pulled close for a dance. “I don't have any luck stopping me from stepping on your feet."

"Well, you'll have to endure my terrible rhythm.” His tone was light as his laugh as Clover watched his own hand settle against Qrow’s side. Their eyes met then. “So I guess we are equal."

Equal. He said it with the same tone as his lucky you at the mines - he could tell because that single line had bounced inside his head for too long. And, of course, he ended this sentence with a wink as well.

“We’ll see about that, Lucky Charm.” He managed to splurt before it got too awkwardly late to add something to the conversation, diverting his gaze down at the same second, watching their feet so he could at least try to avoid stomping on his shoes as they tentatively started to move to the rhythm of the far-away music.

"Let's not turn this into a contest for who will do worse, okay?" He laughed lightly, and Qrow lifted his gaze up instinctively just to watch. "With my luck, I might win that one." 

"Of course." Qrow rolled his eyes. And in that second, they tripped on each other's feet, the weird thing was that he wasn't sure who was the cause of it.

"Sorry." Clover scrunched his shoulders, giving his hand an apologetic squeeze.

"It's alright." He brushed it off with a lazy shrug. Just some time ago, he would have said something like it wasn't your fault, or any other comment about his semblance instead. But he knew his dance partner would probably lecture him if he did that, so he just let it slide - they were both not perfect dancers, so it happens.

"Let's just try again then." They tried to match the rhythm of the waltz one more time. He was warm, Qrow noted. Or he was the one too cold from his time outside enjoying the Atlas icy wind. The contrast was jarring nonetheless, there was still an inch of space between their bodies but he could more than well feel the heat coming from the proximity - the touch he had on Clover's shoulder and palm might as well be burning.

Every time he took his eyes off their feet there was some kind of misstep, followed by apologizing chuckles and quiet affirmations about them being okay. He had imagined Clover being the type of person to charm people away on the dance floor, yes, but he hasn't actually considered he would do that with him. Well… he had, because he was the one imagining those kinds of things in the first place, but he didn't take it seriously! And he would have never guessed clumsy waltzing and sheepishly smiles as being part of his routine.

But here they were, not even on a dance floor but in an empty balcony just for themselves instead, taking overly careful steps while completely ignoring the beats of the background music, after a quick conversation that had consisted in, as his nieces would have put, a lot of gross flirting.

This was stupid. Because he had to admit those noisy brats were right. He couldn't deny anymore that that had been flirting. He couldn't pretend to not notice Clover's attempts to be closer. He couldn't just not say there was some real interest in there.

Especially with how he could feel Clover’s eyes locked on his face as they danced. He didn't know why he had been so hesitant from looking up from their shoes to meet them - they were adults for gods' sake! He was sure he was acting like a teenager right now.

Yet they were doing a slightly better job at keeping up with the music, until the point when it picked up as it arrived close to its end. Their steps became wider, and he was sure he was about to cause them both to fall when Clover decided to be risky and pulled him along for a swift spin. 

He only noticed he had been holding his breath and had his eyes wide when they resumed to slow and steady side to side steps as the final and calmer seconds of waltz reached his ears. 

"Looks like we're doing pretty good." Clover tilted his head knowingly, and Qrow finally relaxed and looked back at him. 

He opened his mouth to respond, just to immediately trip on air and step on the edge of his shoe, making his leg bent in a weird way and bringing him down, exactly on the final note of the music.

He held back a curse as Clover held him in place, letting go of his hands to hold him by the waist with both his arms, pulling him closer and pressing their chests together as Qrow's hands instinctively acted to get a firmer grip, lacing themselves around his shoulders. The music in the ballroom faintly continued its endless loop. He let out a huff. "What were you saying?"

Clover dared to chuckle, and now they were too close, being able to watch the way his eyes curved with his smile and feel the puffs of air from his breathing. "I still think it went well."

"Hm, I didn't know stepping on feet and falling were part of a good dance now." His voice came out raspy and he had to clear his throat. They relaxed their position a bit, allowing Qrow to fully recover his footing, yet neither of them made a move to restore the previous distance they had between them. Clover’s arms were still around his waist and Qrow maintained his own around his shoulders, as if they had done this numerous times before.

"You know… I prefer that over any boring dance I just managed to go through it because of luck." Clover started, pausing for a second to run his tongue over his lips. “I had fun… with you. Can’t remember the last time I felt that way.”

Qrow let the single note escape after a moment of silence. “Oh.” 

He had nothing else to say, because the implications from Clover’s words weren’t lost by him. He preferred a waltz full of missteps over a perfect one, he preferred to be with him. 

“I… I had fun too.” He didn’t like how quiet he had sounded, so Qrow let go of a breath, letting out a chuckle before continuing. “Can’t remember the last time someone endured a full dance with me.”

“That’s a shame… You’re a good dancer, Qrow.”

“You have some messed up standards.” He had to hold back an incredulous laugh. “But, hm- Thanks, for all that.”

He had expected Clover to smile at his words, but not the way he had beamed, brightening up the entire balcony and making his heart skip a beat.

“Hm, what?” He was definitely not used to people staring at him like that, or holding him like that, or talking at him like that - just being with him like that. Gods, how long they had been flirting while hugging?

“You’re not dodging compliments anymore...” Clover’s words came out in a quiet breath, his eyes flickering all over his face.

“Ah.” He swallowed dry, he hadn’t even noticed… “Well- I guess... I know I would be up for a lecture if I did, so… yeah.”

“Good.” Clover’s smile was too close to a smirk now. “Because that means I can do that more often.”

Qrow just blinked, squinting at the smug, too confident, handsome bastard he had his arms around. He opened his mouth to speak. Nothing. Tried again right after, success. “... Why are you like this?”

“Like what?” He diverted his eyes for a second, Qrow could see he was holding back a bigger smile.

“You know-” He could feel his face burning.

“I don’t.”

“Clover...” It almost came out as a hiss.

“Qrow.” He bit his lip to contain a laugh.

“For gods’ sake- Just...” He let out a growl of frustration, bringing a hand to rub over his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Yes?” Clover was having fun by seeing him get flustered, he could tell that very well.

“Just-” Stop? Keep going? What could he want?

What do I want? 

He had the answer to that. 

Taking his hand off his own burning face, he returned it to the back of Clover’s shoulder, sent a last challenging stare at the green eyes that shined a bit too mischievously for his liking, before closing his own, and pulling him in.

Clover kissed him back. Without even a split second of hesitation, not even giving a chance for Qrow to second guess his decision. And even if he knew that was probably the most probable outcome considering Clover's actions, it still blew his mind in the best way possible. It started just as clumsy as their dance. Maybe because he wasn't used to kissing someone who was smiling so much. What was the last time he did that anyway? What was the last time he was sober for it?

He only wondered that for less than a second, because that wasn't the time for it. And he didn't care. He was warm, Qrow noted. And he also sighed against his lips, and pulled him even closer, and breathed him in and tasted like mint and pineapples, he recognized the taste from the non-alcoholic beverages they had served downstairs.

They only pulled away when breathing became extremely necessary. Qrow kept his eyes shut for some lingering moments, he would think he was dreaming if he couldn't feel the warm puffs of air hitting his skin as Clover recovered his breathing.

And when he did open his eyes, he was rewarded by Clover's own staring back at him, with that softness that had taken him a good while to get used to, and now he didn't want to live without it.

"So, hm- another dance?" Qrow blurted. Because he didn't know what else to say in moments like these. Yet what he did know, is that he didn't want it to end.

Clover let out a quiet laugh, resting his forehead on his, the sound light and lively, just like the stare he had on him. "Thought you would never ask."

They got better as they went, there were still some missteps here and there. Yet, they paid no mind. That was what made their dances perfect, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

***

Hope you liked it! I might actually post this on ao3 later after I have more time to do some revising without having to worry about the deadline lol. So if while reading you found some awkward sentences, feel free to let me know! English is not my first language so it helps a ton! :D

[blake-belladonna-defence-force]

Let Me Fall (Only If You Let Me Fall, Too)

Sooo... @styxkid287 came up with an idea and we ended up talking about it. And so, this story was born.

Simply put? The Atlas military finds out about Blake and Yang informing Robyn about the General’s plan for Amity Arena and they are forcibly separated into seperate interrogation rooms. Each girl attempts to play ignorant but when their partner is brought up, fear and guilt set in. The Ace-Ops know what they’re doing, after all. Especially Harriet who picked up on their hopeless flirting.

Including an argument that our girls work through.

I was also greatly inspired by @bloodraven55 ‘s fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/21310411 about the crew being arrested and interrogated. So please go check it out and give her some love if you haven’t already 😊 I particularly adore the way Blake is written here.

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“Miss Belladonna.”

Blake stared blankly at Clover. Her anxiety was through the roof and she desperately needed to see Yang. But she wasn’t going to let him know that.

“You could be in serious trouble here. Robyn Hill is wanted by the Kingdom of Atlas and any communication and exchange of information with her is an act of treason.”

Blake remained silent.

“Miss Belladonna…” Clover sighed heavily, leaning forward and putting a cup of tea in front of her. “Blake… May I call you Blake?”

“No.” Blake deadpanned. She knew what he was doing. He was trying to come across as a friend. To convince her that he was on her side.

“My apologies.” Clover said, a slight crease in his brow. “Your tea will get cold. It’s better when it’s hot.”

“Not in the mood for tea.” Blake said with a shrug. “You know how it is. Being cuffed tends to take the joy out of it.”

She internally smirked at the twitch in his left cheek. The man obviously wasn’t used to his tricks not working.

‘How unfortunate for him.’ Blake though to herself, feeling a sharp pang when the pun reminded her of Yang. ‘Please be okay, Yang. Please don’t do anything brash.’

“Listen, kid.” Clover said, eyes narrowing and Blake knew he was getting frustrated with her. “I am trying to help you. So help me, help you.”

“And what buddy cop movie did you pull that one from?” Blake asked, appearing bored. “Haste Hour? Tag Along?”

“Look, you seem like a good kid.” Clover said, smile very obviously forced. “You want to do the right thing. You dream of helping people. You’re passionate. That much is obvious. You remind me of myself when I was your age.”

Blake merely quirked an eyebrow, expression otherwise blank.

“But you’re young. You’re lost and confused and maybe even a little scared.” Clover said, voice and expression softening… all except his eyes. It was always their eyes. “But you don’t need to be. I can help you. But you need to talk to me. Tell me the truth.”

Blake sighed and leaned forward.

“The truth is…” she said quietly. “That I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She kept her expression blank but felt a small burst of satisfaction when Clover inhaled sharply, eyes narrowing. He was still trying to appear collected but Blake knew better. She had spent years learning to read body language. Life with Adam had made it necessary.

“Okay.” Clover said quietly. “Then I suppose you can enjoy having your license revoked.”

Blake shrugged. Not having a license never stop her before.

“I wonder how Miss Xiao Long will feel about losing hers.”

Blake felt her blood run cold. ‘No, not Yang. Please not her!’

“I know that she’s been working towards this career for so many years. And she was so excited and proud to finally be here.” Clover said calmly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “I wonder how she’ll feel about losing it. Her dreams, her goals. Everything she’s worked towards her whole life. Gone. All because of one wrong decision.”

“Leave. Her. Out. Of this!” Blake snarled, her façade breaking, ears flat against her skull.

“There she is.” Clover chuckled. “Perhaps now you’ll be a little more cooperative?”

‘Fuck.’ Blake thought to herself harshly. ‘What have I done?’

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Yang’s foot was bouncing anxiously. She felt sick and she was close to panic.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw them ripping her and Blake apart. She could hear Blake’s whisper of “Don’t let them get under your skin. Play ignorant. Refuse to answer their questions!” Before they were roughly dragged into separate interrogation rooms.

“Miss Xiao Long.” Harriet was smirking at her. Like she knew exactly was going on in Yang’s mind. She hated it. “I want to know what happened. You’re going to tell me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yang said bluntly. Good, listen to what Blake said. Focus on Blake.

“No?” Harriet hummed thoughtfully. “A wanted woman was granted inside information. When you and your partner were on a mission in the local area. It’s a little suspicious, don’t you think?”

“Robyn’s smart.” Yang shrugged. “She probably figured it out.”

“Or somebody gave it to her.” Harriet said sharply. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if a certain little ex-terrorist gave it to her.”

Yang felt her eyes shift to red, her blood boiling.

“Stay away from her!” She growled. “Don’t you dare go after her!”

“Then tell me what I want to know.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Who told Robyn Hill what the General’s plan was?”

“… fine. I’ll talk.” Blake lifted her chin and stared Clover down. “My partner is innocent. It was my idea and I tricked her into going along with it. It really wasn’t that hard if you know what you’re doing.” Blake said quietly, meeting Clover’s gaze. “She was on the General’s side. I wasn’t it. So I got her on mine.”

“So you manipulated your partner.” Clover said bluntly. “After she’s shown so much trust in you?”

Blake bit back a flinch and remained firm. The accusation, no matter how false, stung.

“I didn’t like using her like that.” Blake said calmly. “But I did what I thought had to be done.”

“Right.” Clover stared at her for a moment before standing. “Sit tight. I’m going to relay this to the General.”

Blake bowed her head, tears finally blurring her vision.

‘I’m sorry, Yang.’ She was terrified that she was breaking her promise. That they would take her away from her team. But the guilt of being the reason that Yang lost something that meant so much to her? She couldn’t bare it. So she took the fall. ‘I’m so sorry.’

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“It was my fault.” Yang said, looking into Harriets eyes. “Blake wanted to stay out of it. But I didn’t want to listen to her. I went to Robyn anyway and told her.” Yang gave a mirthless chuckle. “And Blake wanted to stop me. But she was too late. Robyn was already gone.” Yang swallowed thickly, silently praying that Harriet would believe her.

“And how did Miss Belladonna respond?”

“She was hurt. I hate myself for doing that to her.” Yang pretended to lower her head in shame. “I begged her not to tell anyone and she eventually agreed.”

“I see.” Harriet hummed. “You stay there. I’m going to go speak to the General.”

“Not like I’m going anywhere.” Yang muttered bitterly, shaking her cuffs pointedly.

‘I’m sorry, Blake.’ She thought as she bit back tears. ‘I tried.’

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Yang paced back and forth in the small room she had been directed to, grateful that her hands were now uncuffed.

Apparently, Blake had the same idea as her and had attempted to take the fall. Their stories contradicted, forcing the General to either punish them both or let them go.

Ultimately, he begrudgingly let them go, putting restrictions on their licenses.

“Yang!”

Yang let out a grunt as a body collided with her own, stumbling back as arms wrapped around her neck. She caught her footing and wrapped her arms around Blake and they held each other for a moment before Blake pulled away and glared at her.

“What is wrong with you?!” She hissed. “Taking the fall like that? You could have your license! Everything you been working for!”

“You think I care about a stupid license?” Yang jolted back. “You have a record a mile long, Blake! Do you have any idea what would happen if you got caught for treason?!”

“It’s my fault so I should have taken the blame!”

“I’m the one who suggested it!”

“Only because I felt uncomfortable!”

The two stared each other down, stubborn as always.

But after a moment, their expressions softened and their foreheads came together, as natural as breathing. Neither woman wanted to argue.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“

Both girls blinked in surprise before letting out an awkward laugh, pressing closer to the other.

“I was just so scared of them doing something to you.” Yang whispered, throat tightening. “Harriet brought up your past and I couldn’t let them lock you away, Blake. I couldn’t!”

“I couldn’t bare the thought of them taking away something you’ve been working so hard for. Just because of me.” Blake choked out, hands clutching Yang’s jacket desperately. “I couldn’t let that happen. You’ve already lost so much.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s never been your fault. Not then and not now.” Yang reminded gently. “You’ve been hurt too.”

There was a pause as two stood there.

“I came up with the plan.” Yang murmured softly, curling her hands around Blake’s biceps and rubbing them.

“But-“

“This isn’t on you.”

“It’s not on you, either!”

The two stared each other down for a moment before sighing in unison and butting their head together gently.

“Aren’t we a pair?” Yang asked with a shaky smile.

“Yeah.” Blake mumbled, shifting her hands to rest against Yang’s collar and neck, needing to be feel her. “We are.”

“We both looked at our options and picked what we felt was right.” Yang said gently. “It was a joint decision.”

“Okay.” Blake breathed. “Yeah. I know that. I just… they got under my skin. You’re the one thing that they used that got to me.”

“You were the first thing Harriet brought up.” Yang admitted quietly. “Like she knew how much you mean to me. How quickly it would turn the tables.”

“Clover used you as a last resort.” Blake said softly. “You were the only thing that could break me.”

The two stood quietly, taking each other in.

“I think we’ve gone soft.” Yang murmured, smiling softly at Blake.

“I’ve gone soft.” Blake corrected. “You’ve always been a big softy.”

Yang let out a watery laugh and kissed Blake’s forehead.

“God, I missed you.” She mumbled into her skin. “I’m glad we’re back together.”

“Me too.” She felt Blake tuck her head into the crook of her neck and quickly pulled her close.

“We’re going to be okay, Blake.” She murmured into black hair. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Blake whispered into her skin. “As long as we protect each other. Right?”

“Right.”

The two women allowed their tears to fall, uttering quiet reassurances as they waited to be escorted back to their team.

Communication. Understanding. Respect. Compassion.

That was why they worked so well. Why nothing could tear them apart.

They might disagree, even argue. But they would never let it fester.

[scgdoeswhat]

The First Solstice – Beckett x Clarette

Summary: Beckett and Clarette celebrate their first holiday season under the same roof.

Rating: T

Words: 3065

Author’s Notes: Happy Holidays!!! Complete and unadulterated fluff that takes place post Penderghast. That is all 😂

Hope you all enjoy! Beckett doesn’t belong to me (unfortunately), but the story does. No Beta used.

Sorry if the “Read More” link isn’t working. It’s Tumblr’s fault, not mine!

Tag list: @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @grungeisntmything @friendlylilshipper @felmasri @numberonepoetryexpert @hellomynameisdevi @beckettbaguette @siegrrun @choicesthatplayyou @retroangxl @askdana @50shadesofraleigh @darley1101 @kamybelen-blog @herdecisions @artchoicesreblog @teenytinymagician @choicesfannatalie @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @abigailpoe @flyawayboo @brightpinkpeppercorn @gardeningourmet @harringtons-honey @manateemilk @queenodysseia @thatcatlady0716 @divergentofhogwarts @pottershat @topsyturvy-dream @choicesyouplayandmore @zeniamiii @never-neverland @drakewalkerfantasy @syltti78 @elementalistshoe @maxwellsquidsuit @sleepingpillcorporation @tabithacarlisle @ludextruction @pbmychoices @wickedgypsymoon @mistychoices @izzycheeese @lady-kato @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @adrian-rainess​ @walkerismychoice @thefirstcourtesan @drakesensworld​ @laceandlula​ @rhymesmenagerie​ @shainaa00​ @princessstellaris​ @itsbrindleybinch​ @donutsgirl36​ @liamzigmichael4ever​ @mckenzie-powell​ @sunflowergirl05​ @justendlesssummerfeels​ @friedherringclodthing​ @choicesarehard​ @desiree-0816​ @elanorwaverley @aworldoffandoms​ @mrsbriarmarlcaster​ @star-adorned​ @wiselight @cloacasexual @thequeenofcronuts​  @slytherclawwarrior @mslarimone

Please let me know if you want to be tagged/removed on future fics and I’ll tag anyone I may have missed in the comments. Thank you!

 The early morning sun rose in the distance, the rays of light casting an ethereal glow over the fresh snow that had fallen overnight. Across the landscape, fat, fluffy cardinals and blue jays flittered to and fro; the little balls of red and blue adding to the dots of greenery that were peeping out of the blank canvas of white powder just beyond the large bay window.

Beckett hummed to himself in a hushed tone, putting the finishing touches on the first of his many gifts to Clarette. His eyes darted about the spread he had made himself, satisfied with the final product. With a point of his finger, he enchanted the decorations and candles to light when she entered the living area later that morning. He padded back to their bedroom, peeling his clothes off by the bedside to keep the facade of him being asleep the whole time.

Crawling back into bed, Beckett smiled to himself as he kept his movements silent with the aid of some quick air magick to mask any sounds. He looked down at Clarette with tenderness, his gaze roving over his sleeping girlfriend's figure that was burrowed under the blankets. Her dark, luscious hair was spread out in contrast to the pale blue of the pillow, her lips slightly parted in her deep slumber. As he slid under the covers, it was automatic for Clarette to turn towards the heat of his body, her arm wrapping around his torso while her head nestled onto his chest. He brushed her hair back and kissed the top of her head, his other arm holding her close, caressing the soft skin of her bare back with the lightest of touches.

He closed his eyes in an attempt to get a few more minutes of sleep, knowing full well that Clarette was going to wake up uncharacteristically early on this special day, even though they had both fallen asleep only a few hours prior. The corner of his mouth lifted with the memories they had created earlier that night, the specialness of sharing their first Solstice while living together under the same roof fresh in his mind.

The evening had started out innocent enough as they headed to the LeFleur household earlier that day. What he was going to wear to her family’s place never crossed his mind, assuming a blazer and tie would suffice. He was about to throw on a crisp button-down shirt when he saw Clarette walk out in one of the ugliest sweaters he had ever laid eyes on. The red sweater had a lone reindeer on the front, its antlers bedazzled with rhinestones, with a geometric design of white snowflakes covering the rest of the jumper. The only saving grace of her entire outfit was the pair of skintight leggings she paired them with.

Beckett’s jaw fell agape in horror. “What in the world are you wearing?”

“Beckett, your face!” His reaction brought her to tears of laughter, her almond eyes crinkling in amusement. “Did I forget to tell you? It’s my ugly Christmas sweater! And you might as well save the suit and tie for your parents’ dinner tomorrow. Tonight, we’re doing Christmas LeFleur style.”

Quirking an eyebrow in response, he removed his shirt, placing it back on the hanger. He stood shirtless in front of their closet, mulling over what to wear now that his original outfit had been dashed. “What, then, constitutes a ‘LeFleur style’ Christmas?”

“Well, for starters,” she sauntered over to him, placing her hands on his chest before sliding them up his muscular frame and around his neck. “There’s no need for a fancy schmancy blazer. I mean, we’re a family who wears onesies for Christmas, remember? A sweater’s fine,” she giggled. “Though I’ll tell you what. If it wasn’t the holidays, I’d suggest we just stay home because I’d much rather see you in this state of undress any day of the week.”

Going up on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips against his in a slow, seductive manner, smiling when he moaned into her mouth. She unwound her arms and pulled back with one final peck, watching his eyes open slowly, the hazel grey hues now tinged with desire. “Except that it is the holidays, so you need to finish getting ready. And as much as I appreciate your exquisite physique, I don’t think the rest of my family would appreciate you showing up without a shirt.”

Taking a quick look through the closet, her fingers rummaged through the hangers before landing on a charcoal, cashmere, V-neck sweater. She handed him the piece of clothing before she walked out of the room, tapping his toned ass with the back of her hand for good measure.

He shook his head with a grin on his face as he heard her laughing to herself down the hall. She was absolutely ridiculous, and he loved her for it.

A couple of hours later, Beckett and Clarette walked hand in hand up the driveway towards a modest, one-story, ranch style home in the middle of suburbia. The surrounding neighborhood houses all had simple lights and decorations strung up along their roofs, the neighborhood giving off a different and distinct feel compared to the affluent community he grew up in. While he knew they had different upbringings, this was the first real opportunity to experience her life before Penderghast and before him. He exhaled deeply, letting out a breath he didn't even know he was holding as they approached the front door.

Taking the keys out of her purse, Clarette stopped before ascending the front steps. He took the step up, only to notice she had paused in her gait, causing him to halt and rejoin her on the bottom rung.

“Is everything alright?” He held her gloved hand, clutching it for support.

“I was about to ask you the same thing. I heard that breath you let out, you know. And don't even try to deny it.” A crease of worry lined her forehead as she glanced up at him.

“I’m afraid I might be overthinking things again. How do you know me so well?” Wrapping his arms around her, he squeezed her in the ridiculous puffer coat that she wore over the ugly reindeer sweater.

“Because I always have. I just know you.” She hugged him back, breathing in his scent.

“I suppose I might be slightly nervous, this being the first Solstice that your family has invited me to,” he confessed.

“You have no reason to be. You've already met my entire family and they love you. Even Atlas does, although she'd never admit it.”

“I know you're right, but I can't help but seek your family's approval at all turns.”

She tilted her head up at him, cupping his jaw. “And you already have it. They want what's best for me and you're it.”

He beamed, her words relieving some of the pressure that he had placed on himself. Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “How did I get so lucky with you?” He murmured before grazing his lips over hers once more.

She responded with fervor, her hand sliding from his jaw to the base of his head, the other gripping the soft cashmere of his sweater underneath his black pea coat. “How about we call it even and say we both got lucky.” 

Stepping back, she smoothed the fabric down his chest, straightening his sweater out while taking the opportunity to feel his hard body underneath her fingertips. “By the way, I really love this on you. It brings out your eyes and just so you know, I'm going to be imagining tearing it off of you all night long until we get home later.”

Laughing, his eyes lit up with desire before looking down at the mocking reindeer on the front of her sweater, its obnoxious, bejeweled eyes glittering back at him. “And I can't wait to tear that hideous thing off you either.”

As if on cue, the door opened, revealing a reindeer-onesie-wearing Atlas just in time to catch Beckett's words. Her smile turned upside down and her eyes darted between the happy couple, glaring at the pair. She stepped aside, letting them into the house.

“I was going to say I've missed having you around the place for the holidays, but Harrington just reminded me why I don't. I was going to ask what took you so long, but I think I already know the answer. And no, I don’t want any details.”

Clarette hung her and Beckett's coats up, glomping her sister with lightning quick speed before the fair-haired twin could dodge her advances. “I've missed you too, sister! And don’t worry, we weren’t late because we weren’t having sex, if that’s what you were implying!”

Beckett coughed, clearing his throat. “Clarette, must you verbalize that? What if your parents heard you?!”

Atlas squirmed out of her touch, scowling at them both. She shook her head before her mask broke and a hint of a smile appeared. “Sometimes I really hate you, you know that.”

“What did your sister do now?” An amused voice echoed from inside the house, the footsteps getting louder as they approached the entryway. Their biological mother came into view, donning an apron and looking like an advertisement for ‘Better Homes & Gardens’ instead of being the almighty Sun Source.

Theia hugged her Sun-Att daughter hard, rocking her back and forth in the embrace, keeping in line with actions of the affectionate mother she had become. “Clarette! It's like I never see you anymore once you moved out!”

Clarette rolled her eyes, grinning as she hugged her mother with the same gusto. “What are you talking about? I just saw you two days ago!”

“But it's different when I was used to seeing you every day for past Solstice breaks!” She let her go, turning to Beckett with a stern expression, the ancient Sun Source power radiating from her mortal form, “And you, Beckett Harrington, I hope you've been treating Clarette well.”

“Yes, yes of course, I have, I - ” he stammered, “- always! With the utmost respect!”

Theia broke out into laughter, gathering Beckett into a hug. “You should've seen your face! Clarette is right, you are fun to tease!”

Beckett sputtered, his ears turning pink as he returned the hug for a moment before taking his place back at Clarette's side. “Well, at least now I know the teasing is hereditary,” he joked, an easy smile coming to him.

She clasped her hands, an action she did to control herself when she could feel her Sun energy spiking with joy. “In all seriousness, I'm glad you were able to join us, Beckett. I do have one question for you, though, before we all go help with the cookies in the back.”

“Yes?”

Clarette jostled when she saw the shit eating grin creep onto her mother's face. “Mom…”

“So... when are you going to pop the question?”

“MOM. OH MY GOD!”

Beckett could feel the red color his cheeks and he never had the chance to reply as Clarette grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the kitchen.

The rest of the evening went swimmingly, with lots of love, laughs, and a frightening number of cookies and egg rolls being consumed. They arrived back at their townhouse a bit before midnight, where Clarette still had a warm buzz going after too many glasses of spiked eggnog.

The tree in the corner glowed under the sparkling lights that were draped on the branches, the dimmed room illuminated by the soft, silver sheen of the tinsel. Presents wrapped in foil, paper and tissue were piled under the greenery, the scent of fresh pine, cinnamon, and allspice filling the area.

They sat on the sofa, watching the flames of the fire dance and leap from across the room, the heat warming them up from the cold outside. The fireplace crackled in the comforting silence; the sound was a soothing melody as they reflected on their first holiday living together so far. This night and the morning to come was a nice respite from all their familial obligations through the Solstice season.

Beckett raised his arm, allowing Clarette to snuggle into his warmth and he rubbed her back as she nestled into his nook. She traced imaginary patterns on his sweater, only stopping when he laced his fingers with hers, kissing the back of her hand before stroking it with his thumb.

“Thanks for coming tonight. It really meant a lot to me and I am so sorry she put you on the spot like that, I had no idea she was going to go there.” She buried her face into the crook of his neck, still reeling from the embarrassment of earlier.

“The question that your mother asked me?” He kissed the top of her head, a low chuckle rumbling from him. “There's nothing to apologize for. It is something we have discussed in the past, is it not?”

Raising her head, she looked into the depths of his eyes. “Yeah, it is, but I don't want you to feel pressured into asking just because societal norms tell you to do it. I'm not going anywhere.”

He hummed in agreement, noticing the sincerity in which she spoke those words. “You're the only thing in the world that I don't feel pressure from. And when I do ask the question, I want it to be as perfect as possible because that's what you deserve.”

She sat up, running a hand through his hair before studying his face. The fire may have been reflecting in the gloss of his eyes, but it was an internal heat that she recognized as she cupped his warm cheeks between her palms. She brought his lips to hers, faintly tasting the gingerbread they had from earlier.

Tangling his hand into her dark mass of hair, he pulled her onto his lap and she straddled him, her knees on the outside of his hips as she pressed herself against his hard body. He groaned at the contact, his head falling back while she rubbed herself on him. Straightening up, he ran his hands down the curves of her body, this time making her sigh in pleasure as he attached his mouth to her neck, kissing and nibbling her skin before he captured her mouth once again.

With a smirk, he pulled off the atrocious sweater, the night air causing goosebumps to raise on her skin. “Finally,” he chuckled, his hands and mouth covering the newly exposed expanse of flesh. She undulated under his touch, ripping off his top as she had earlier promised, running her hands over his strong, taut frame.

They ended up making love on the couch, and twice more in bed, which brought him back to this exact moment, except he now felt Clarette stirring in his arms. He heard the deep, contented sigh that signaled him she was waking, and he closed his eyes feigning sleep.

She kissed his chest, right over his heart, before trailing her lips up with the softest of touches, culminating with a slow, lingering kiss. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

He responded after a moment, a moan originating from deep within his throat as he wrapped an arm around her, holding her tight. “Hmmm, you're up early.”

She propped herself above him, her arms on either side of his head, leaning down to give him a quick, smattering of pecks on his face. “It's our first Christmas together. Do you know what that means?”

“Tell me.” His hands rested on her waist as she hovered above him.

“It means presents!”

He gave her a lazy grin, his thumbs rubbing minute circles against the supple skin of her hips. “I don't know if anything could top the present you gave me last night.”

Giggling, she bent down, their mouths meeting. “I'd have to agree, that was a great gift, but I'm talking about things you unwrap and stuff!”

Pulling her close for more, he laughed in between kisses. “I don't want to get technical, but I'm relatively sure we both did some unwrapping last night.”

“You're ridiculous,” she tittered, before placing a final kiss on his lips. “And I love you for it.” Bounding off the bed, she threw her fluffy robe over her nude body, securing it closed with a knot around her waist. “I'll make some coffee while you get up?”

“Certainly. Give me a second.” He put the shirt and pajama pants that he had removed not even 20 minutes ago back on, proud of himself that Clarette had no clue what he had been up to that morning. Walking down the hallway, the smile on his face grew as he heard her exclamation from the breakfast nook. As he entered the dining area, he was greeted with her running towards him.

Clarette threw her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist as he hoisted her up with no effort. She peppered kisses all over him, the smile on her face worth its weight in gold.

“When did you have time to do all this? And how?” She gestured to the dining table, which was chock full of waffles with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, plates with sizzling bacon and eggs, and two steaming mugs of peppermint mocha. “Not only were you asleep, but you said you can't cook!”

He led her to the table, pulling her chair out before sitting next to her. Holding her hand, he ghosted his lips over her knuckles. “I was thinking, wouldn't it be nice to start our own traditions? So, I taught myself how to make your favorite breakfast. I hope everything turned out to your specifications.”

Clarette placed her free hand on his cheek, gleaming at him in wonder. Their eyes never left each other as he placed a sweet kiss to her palm.

“It's absolutely perfect,” she whispered, never taking her eyes off him.

Leaning in towards each other, their eyes fluttered shut as they shared a soft kiss full of hope, promise and love.

“Merry Christmas, Clarette.” Beckett rested his forehead against hers, both relishing the peace and serenity of this moment, as well as the deep connection they shared.

“Merry Christmas, Beckett. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[shadowsong26fic]

Some Stuff

Not a proper Coming Attractions post, that’ll come out on the first Monday of the month as always, but...a more general update on some projects (and also possibly looking for input?)

Basically, I’ve accepted the inevitable, that I’ve fallen back into ATLA in a big way. I haven’t actually rewatched the series yet, because my roommate was doing so and I kept popping in and out and I didn’t want to confuse myself by trying to do a straight rewatch while she was doing hers, but I have reread a bunch of old fanfic/RP logs, and have some plots I kind of want to work with again? Either as fulltext or as an AU Outline. Behind the cut are some more details, as well as seeking Opinions on which, if any, I should actually work on.

I am also Determined to not fall out of SW as this is going on, lol. More details about that behind the cut, as well.

(Also, I’ve talked about some of the stuff listed here on my writing discord, which feel free to come stop by and hang out! It’s basically an extension of this tumblr, only a little more interactive. Find us here!)

Star Wars Stuff:

I plan to take next weekend to bang out at minimum the next Precipice chapter, and possibly the next two (though I’ll stagger posting if I do manage to get both done). And then try and give myself a more active schedule to get the next parts of the series out.

I’m also working on a dragonshifters AU, which I’m enjoying a lot. I think OFLAM may be relegated to the back burner for a while, though I’ll probably kick it up again if I end up doing it for SWBB next year (unless I tease out enough of a Plot for dragonshifters to do that instead, lol). I’ve talked about some of the worldbuilding on my writing discord, too.

I also still owe some meme responses from way back, which I do intend to get to at some point I promise <.<

And I haven’t forgotten some other extant projects--Devoted!verse, the Ventress outline, Bail Unfucks the Timeline, Distaff, etc.--but they’re pretty back-burnered for the time being. If something Sparks in any of those, I’ll probably dive into it, but for now I’m not actively working on them in the way I am on dragonshifters and Precipice.

AtLA Stuff:

So, there’s sort of...four or five projects spinning around in my head right now, lol. One of which, if I do it, would not work as an outline so it would be fulltext. It’s canon-compliant, for the most part.

...well, I should interrupt myself here to say the following: I haven’t read a lot of the comics or tie-in novels, and my familiarity with more recent Word of God is limited. I’m basically operating out of canon defined as “it’s in the original show or WoG I’m specifically aware of, drawing in stuff from other sources as it appeals to me but otherwise ignoring it.” Where WoG contradicts itself (i.e., the timeline for Lu Ten’s death),I go with whatever answer I prefer.

In terms of worldbuilding details added in Korra--ehhhhh, it’s sort of held a little higher than the comics, etc. (in that, if I remember it, unless it Josses something I really, really liked/was foundational to something I’m doing, I’ll probably include it); but most likely whatever I’m doing will go AU enough during the first series for a lot of the other detail work/character-specific stuff to not matter.

Anyway! Back to the fun stuff.

There’s one story I’m playing with that’s not going to work as an AU outline. Depending on exactly what I focus on, there’s a couple different fulltext fics buried in it, and I’m not sure which I’d work on (or if I’d braid the two of them together). Basically, it deals with the siege of Ba Sing Se and Lu Ten’s death, and some of the fallout from that, focusing on an OC of mine and her daughter. I found a short fic I wrote for a challenge back in the day that ties into this concept, which is at the very end of this post. If I work on this, I’d probably change the names of the two relevant OCs and possibly how she gets her memory back (it was written specifically for a “what happened in the rest of the world when Zhao captured Tui” challenge; guess how many of them were Hama-related), but. Anyway, building on either the Siege portion of the story (which has a lot of West Side Story on its soundtrack in my head lol), or focusing on what she does after she remembers him. Or both! Both is also good.

The rest of the options are mostly Zuko-centric canon-divergence fics.

First option, Airbender!Zuko. This occurs because The Spirits Said So; he’s gotten very good at fake firebending using airbending. Probably to the point where he’s so deep in denial that he can’t even see the pyramids anymore, to stretch that analogy to the breaking point, lol. Basically, not much changes until the north pole, but there’s some ways for it to go from there...

Second option, Avatar Zuko. This one has been floating around in my head more lately. Reading old RP logs, my partner and I played through a bunch of different variants on how this all worked, but the one in my head right now is basically--a few months before he’s banished, they’re at Ember Island or something and he’s out on the ocean/fishing or something. Sudden storm, he stops the boat from capsizing through panicked waterbending. No other witnesses, for whatever reason. He initially decides he imagined it, something else must have happened. Except then, when he’s in the palace infirmary after getting his face melted, he does it again. At that point, he basically decides that his options here are “get turned into a weapon and kill A Lot of people, or get disappeared into some dark hole somewhere where I can’t cause any problems.” Neither of those is particularly attractive, so he decides to run away. He doesn’t know what his long-term plan is at this moment--if he’ll use the comet to regain favor/save his nation based on the context he’s operating under right now, or do something else. But he has about three and a half years before then. He figures he’ll spend a year at the Western Air Temple, looking for texts/mosaics/something to get him at least vaguely airbending; then go to the North Pole to learn waterbending for a year, then spend a year in the Earth Kingdom to learn earthbending. Planning, for the last two, to present himself as mixed and while he has a lot of his Fire Nation father’s features, he inherited bending from his other parent (or grandparent, when he goes to the North Pole). For those of you familiar with my original fic, this will also include the first iteration of a prominent secondary character from Feredar/The Farglass Cycle. Mostly so Zuko has someone to talk to at the WAT XD. 

Third and fourth options are a bit more nebulous, and both break off during the Ba Sing Se arc. First option, Zuko gets injured during the stampede when Aang moves the zoo (this will probably draw in at least one of my BSS OCs because I am pathologically incapable of not creating OCs, lol). Second option, Zuko leaves his mask behind in Lake Laogai, which means Aang will know he’s in the city. Not sure where either of those would go from that point but there’s some Significant Differences there, lol.

...anyway, that’s where things stand now. Which, if any, are y’all interested in seeing?

As promised, the clip from the Lu Ten story, originally written for a challenge back in...yeesh 2010 XD. Again, this is canon-compliant at least up until Iroh and Zuko arrive in BSS, and I’d possibly change the names and/or how she gets her memories back.

An Wei sat by the window, holding her little girl and watching the sky. Today had been one of Huai's bad days, so An Wei had her hand resting lightly on her daughter's neck, counting her heartbeats. The doctors had told her, back when Huai was a baby and they'd figured out what was wrong with her, to hope for seven years--but only to hope, not to count on them. So An Wei took special care to always, always watch. She never regretted her child, no. Occasionally, she wished she had never met Huai's father, but...well, she couldn't remember much about him, other than the kind golden eyes (false kindness?) that had taken her in so completely during the Siege. She didn't think about him very much. It was too painful--and dangerous. Above and beyond the dangers in thinking about the War That Was No War, her own father had... Well, he hadn't been pleased. She didn't remember the argument, but her uncle wouldn't have brought her to the Lower Ring midwife who had cared for her during her pregnancy if she hadn't needed to hide. Despite all of her vigilance, it was her own heart that skipped a beat when the moonlight filtering in through her window turned an eerie, dull red. She gasped and clutched her daughter a little tighter, praying that Huai would sleep until this went away, so it wouldn't frighten her. That is, assuming it would go away. She shivered and shifted Huai so the little girl was facing away from the window and watched in horror as the bloody moon failed to return to normal. "Please..." she whispered. "Please be normal when she wakes..." As if in response to her desperate pleading, the moon flared silver again after a half hour. But she barely had a moment to relax before it winked out completely. An Wei jumped and stifled a scream. "Don't be afraid of the dark, this'll light your way home." She jumped again. There was no one here in the room with her and Huai, but she could have sworn... The moon blinked back into existence and a pretty girl with long white hair rode in on one of its beams. An Wei stared up at her, still frightened, pulling her daughter away from the girl as best she could. The moon-girl bent down and kissed An Wei's forehead. "Remember now," she murmured, then faded out of sight. ** "Don't be afraid of the dark." He smiles and makes a little light in his palm, carefully transferring it to a bundle of sticks. "This will light your way home." ** She studies the hairpiece he wears in his topknot, turning it over and over in her hands. "There's something you should know about me, too. About my family." ** "We can make this work, Itsu." He's determined, hopeful, his golden eyes shining. "We'll talk to my father. He'll understand. We'll make it work. Meet me here, at the usual time." "I trust you." ** She waits and waits and waits, until long past dark, but he doesn't come. ** She hates speaking with her guardian, but she's scared and has nowhere else to go. "Please, help me," she finishes quietly. He nods. "I'll keep you safe, Highness. You and your child. I promise." ** The light spins around and around and around, and she forgets her name, forgets her lover, and in her place is An Wei, a young woman trained as a scribe, seduced by a nameless Fire soldier, rather than... ** Itsu let out a little sobbing breath. Huai shifted in her arms. "Mommy?" she whispered, still half-asleep. "It's okay, baby, everything's okay. Go back to sleep." "'Kay." Huai closed her golden eyes again and her breathing evened out as much as it ever did. Itsu held her daughter close. Twice over a princess, at the worst possible time, born with a broken heart. No wonder Long Feng hid us so deep.

[to clarify--Itsu is Kuei’s sister. I forget how I set the relative ages, but assuming, as seems to be the case in flashbacks, that Lu Ten is about 10 years older than Zuko, he’d be somewhere between twenty and twenty-two when he died, depending on which date you believe; Kuei is around the same age (possibly a year or two younger?) and Itsu within two years of them.]