#time to get back to that capitol arc after weeks of putting that off

[aashiyancha]

Happy Tuesday! Finally, here's the last part of a day with Reinhard and Ares!

((I was gonna originally end the day here, but because I'm a madman I added one more scene last minute just for the sillies))

Interested in reading the rest of these rf5 comics? Here's a link to the masterpost for the rest!

[ghanjrho]

How A:tLA should have ended, Pt. 2

Part 1 is here

I promised you Fire Family and Steambabies, have your Fire Family and Steambabies. We'll start with oldest and move down in age, as of roughly AG 115. For timeline purposes, the royal wedding was in AG 105, when Zuko was 21 and Katara 19.

Uncle Iroh: Iroh retires from his role as Regent the day Zuko and Katara have their Fire Nation wedding. Now he moves back to Ba Sing Se and his tea shop, though he still makes it back to Caldera for a couple weeks a year. It's a good system, obviously removing the Dragon of the West from the levers of power, while also putting enough physical separation between him and Zuko that a coup is unlikely to target both at once. The Steambabies call him Grampa Iroh.

Ozai: Is dead. Handed over to the Earth Kingdom a year or so after the war ended, an international tribunal called for his execution. In desperation, he offered up all the information he had on Ursa. All it bought him was being executed like a member of the Fire Lord's family, as opposed to a peasant. Aang refuses to vote for death on principle, but has grown enough to understand that not everyone can live by his personal code of ethics.

Ursa: Was found. The basic arc of The Search is maintained, with the exception that Ursa didn't lose her memories. Why didn't she go back? She was going to. But Ursa was Noriko now, and Noriko was going to have to work hard to convince her son that she was his mother; at the time she didn't know that the Mother of Faces could undo a gift and make her Ursa again. Not to mention that at the time of The Search, the family simply didn't have the money to travel to the Capitol and stay there for the amount of time it would take for her to get access to Zuko without running afoul of her banishment.

Zuko: Is the Fire Lord, and a devoted father. He thinks the second is more important. Had some serious nerves about parenthood, but bowed to the reality of needing an heir and a spare. Winds up having more than that.

Katara: Is the Fire Lady, and a handful of other titles besides. Her travels through the Fire Nation hinterlands give her a surprising wealth of connections to the Fire Nation's peasantry, which she freely uses to keep abreast of what's going on in her adopted land. She and Zuko are that married couple that can't keep there hands off each other.

Azula: Instead of letting Azula be a crutch villain, Azula gets better. Ursa's return and Zuko's persistent attention helped her unwind a lot of the emotional abuse that Ozai inflicted on her. Not all the way better, she has a medicated tea that she takes daily, and her moral compass is still worryingly external. That said, Zuko is her frame of reference instead of Ozai, so everyone is willing to call it good enough. On her 18th birthday, Zuko (and Iroh) named her the Hand of Fire, making her the Fire Lord's go-to problem solver.

Kiyi: is adorable. Yes, Mommy looks different now, but Kiyi has cool older siblings now! Azula had very complicated feelings about "her replacement" for a while. A lot of talks with Ursa helped; finding out Zuzu would fold in the face of Kiyi's pout did too. Early morning Fire Sibling meditation is essential bonding time. For Kiyi's age, I'm putting her 10 years younger than Azula, or 12 years younger than Zuko; in AG 115 she's 19 and a skilled firebender.

Izumi: Steambaby the first. Izumi was born on her parents' first anniversary, almost to the hour. Like her aunt, she's an extremely talented firebender, using blue fire and learning lightning generation. Unlike her aunt, her mother isn't trying to protect a more vulnerable sibling, and her father isn't emotionally abusing her to turn her into a living weapon/vessel for his will.

Kya: Steambaby the second. Followed her older sister by a year and a half, being born in mid-winter. Like her mother, she's a waterbender with the healing gift.

Lu Ten/Noriko: Twins that followed Kya by 3 years and a bit; spring birth. Neither has shown signs of bending yet, but there's still time.

Rei/Kallik: Boys, newborn.

Bonus:

Sokka/Suki: The brother-in-law and co-sister-in-law of the Fire Lord. Have 3 of their own and are working on a fourth. Suki and Azula are in a low-key competition to be the favorite aunt. Their work mainly keeps them in the new United Republic's territory,

[freesia-writes]

Howzer + Aurelia Ch. 24 - Blowing Off Steam

Beginning with his shiny days, this story follows Howzer's character arc through some heartwarming romance, action, adventure, yearning, angst, and growth.

Content/Trigger Warnings for Entire Work (individual chapters not labeled): wartime peril, injury, and death; sexual assault up to kissing; relationship passion up to making out and heavy petting; sexual relationship alluded to (smut is posted separately); pregnancy, birthing trauma, and stillbirth (chapters 30-39, can be skipped and still keep up with the story).

Master List of Chapters

Word Count: 2.9k

24. Blowing Off Steam

Howzer's walk home that night was particularly chilly, but he didn't feel a thing, buoyed as he was by the absolute elation coursing through his veins. The door to his quarters slid open, revealing a stark, cold, empty little room with the basic necessities. He had come to love this simple little space of his own over the last few years, but now it felt lonely compared to the warmth and comfort of Aurelia's. It wasn't unusual for clones to find respite in the arms of another, but the concept of any kind of long-term domestic life was simply impossible. Yet watching the tender intimacy between Cham and Eleni as they pursued a shared vision together had left a distinct impression on him. 

He loved his post. His brothers worked together like a well-oiled machine, providing a sort of diplomatic interface between the Empire and the locals. He found himself considering future options, then chuckled to himself, realizing that the only freedom he would experience was in the time between shifts, or on the rare chance that he would be put on leave. Other than that, he was property of the Republic. Or the Empire. Or whoever was pulling the strings, deciding where and how his life would be spent. So, any free will could only be exercised in those precious hours off. 

The thoughts continued as he finished his nighttime routine and flopped onto his thin mat, feeling his resolve settle on a path forward. 

* * *

"Come on, Captain. It'll be fun!"

"Don't bother with him, Steady. He's a stuffy old loner these days."

"What'd you say?!" came an identical voice from across the barracks. 

"Not you, Loner!" 

"Listen... It's Evo's last shift before he's promoted to his fancy new post. It would mean a lot to him. He's been part of your squad from the start," the first clone said again, putting a hand on Howzer's shoulder. "Besides, where are you always off to? You're not in your bunk..."

"Alright, Steady, alright," Howzer cut him off, "I'll be there."

"Ha! Told you, Demo!" was the triumphant proclamation. 

"I'll believe it when I see it," Demo muttered, still waving off Loner's piercing glare.

* * *

"That sounds fun!" Aurelia said, surprising even herself with her enthusiasm.

"Really?" Howzer asked, smiling in delight, "I figured you'd had enough of those days."

"Well, anything is more fun with you involved, and I've always enjoyed hanging out with the clones."

"Anything, eh?" he grinned, "I'll remember that for later. But I'd love it if you came. I haven't told the boys anything about us, because we're not really supposed to do this sort of thing, but they've all broken those rules in one way or another... You still might get some flak."

"Just like old times," Aurelia chuckled, more to herself than to him.

"Not exactly like old times," Howzer corrected, rubbing the back of his neck. "But anyway... I'll see you there after work?" 

"Sounds good," she replied, yearning to give him a goodbye kiss but deterred by the flurry of people around them. It was lunchtime in the capitol square, and everyone seemed to be shifting from morning duties to afternoon. So with a simple nod to each other, they parted ways. 

* * *

The music thumped as species of all shapes and sizes gathered in the local cantina, where the atmosphere was infectiously jovial -- the celebration of the end of another week of work. Not that it mattered to the clones, for whom every day was the same, but the locals were always particularly enthusiastic before their rest days. The building was well-lit and spacious, with a variety of high-ceilinged rooms and areas for groups to gather, supported by a perfectly circular bar in the middle that fueled the good time. A small band played on a raised stage in the center of the bar, above everyone's heads, and warm golden lights were scattered throughout the rooms. It was reminiscent of 79s and yet totally foreign, though the general purpose was the same. 

Aurelia was late. She'd been assisting a surgery that took twice as long as expected due to the medical droid damaging a servo partway through. She didn't want to show up in her work clothes, however, so still made the trip home for a frenzied refresh. She found herself feeling nervous, wanting to put her best foot forward in front of Howzer's squad. Flashbacks of his embarrassment at being seen with her came to the surface, but they no longer gave her the turn of the stomach that they used to. But she still found it difficult to be fully confident in his affection; she just had never seen herself as much of a "catch", for whatever reason. 

But none of that mattered -- bringing herself back to the present, she opted for a dainty floral dress, a slightly uncharacteristic choice, but it made her feel more feminine, and accentuated what little figure she did have. Her short hair was growing out a little bit, giving her a curly sort of bob, which she pulled back from her face a little bit with a ribbon. 

The cantina was impossible to miss, as its crowd spilled out onto the street in front of it. Conversations and scuffles, laughter and hollers... Aurelia wove her way through to the door, searching the room for Howzer. She had never ventured in before, and she was immediately assaulted by an incredible variety of sights and sounds. 

A short Rodian immediately approached her, putting a hand on her elbow and saying something. His bulbous eyes were galaxies of their own, and his tiny mouth moved closer to her ear as he continued. It was impossible to discern what he was saying, with all the noise, and she smiled and shook her head, still craning her neck to try to spot one special clone. The Rodian was not to be dissuaded, however, and followed after her, tugging on her arm. She felt the anxiety beginning to rise when suddenly she spotted some familiar white helmets in one of the conversation areas and made a beeline for them. 

But as she charged straight into the living-room sort of space they were in, she realized that Howzer wasn't there, and she was instead met with a handful of similar faces all looking at her with expressions from delighted surprise to judgmental confusion. 

"Can we help you, ma'am?" one of the clones asked, watching the Rodian continue to pester her. 

"I'm not sure what he wants," she said pathetically, "He's not speaking Basic." 

"This one's for you, Evo," the clone said, beckoning to one of his brothers, who rose to his feet and began speaking just as quickly to the insistent green creature in his native language of Rodese. Two green hands went up in the air, waving back and forth, and he finally turned and went out the front door. 

"He was absolutely convinced that he was supposed to meet you here tonight," Evo said, returning to his couch. "Did I just get rid of your hot date?" he said with a smirk.

"No," Aurelia laughed, looking around at the squad nervously. "I'm just... uh... hanging out tonight." She realized she didn't know what Howzer had told them, if anything, and didn't want to offer more information than was necessary. 

"Well pull up a chair!" said one of the clones. He had the standard military haircut but a bold, thick mustache that moved when he spoke to give his words a bit more dramatic flair. "Evo here is enjoying one last hurrah before he's shipped off to fame and glory. Maybe you could dance for him... give him a good time, you know?" 

Aurelia's cheeks flushed bright red as another one spoke up, "She just walked in, Demo! Give her a break!"

"She'd be lucky to land a guy like Evo! I'm offering the chance of a lifetime here!" the mustached Demo replied, finishing his glass mug with a flourish. 

"Thank you, Demo. I don't need the assistance," said the clone who was apparently named Evo. His hair was perhaps ear-length, parted perfectly off to the side and meticulously combed. He looked like he spent a lot of time on it each day, and Aurelia also caught a strong whiff of cologne. "You're welcome to join us, if you'd like, but I can't promise you'll be spared from... well, the boys," he jerked his head toward the rest. 

"Uhh, thank you," she said, taking an uncertain seat while still looking around for Howzer. 

"You're not gonna find anything sexier out there," another playful voice came.

"Not you too now, Steady." 

"I leave for five minutes and you're already harassing the locals..." came that same-and-yet-not-same voice from behind her, and Aurelia whipped around to see Howzer approaching with a tray of drinks. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, scar-faced and weathered, with the depth of a lifetime in his big brown eyes. He gave her a quick grin and a wink as he passed the glasses out to his squad mates, then plopped onto the couch next to her. 

His presence was a disproportionate joy, and Aurelia felt herself relaxing and enjoying the rest of the conversations as the troopers poked fun at each other, interacted with random others in the area, and recounted their harrowing and glorious adventures. It was almost surreal, seeing Howzer in the element where they'd first met but acting so different this time around. He had an undeniable warmth toward his brothers, and a steady, calm presence of strength and dignity. Maybe she was a little biased, but he was nothing short of magnificent to her, and, she thought, completely smitten with her as well... she hoped. 

She took a break to grab a fizz at the bar, scanning the establishment while she waited. It was a colorful assortment of characters, dancing and talking, with lots of Twi'leks mingling among the clones. There were even a few Imperials here and there, though they mostly kept to themselves with a conceited sort of air about them. Taking a sip of the bubbly bottle, she headed back to the clones just in time to see an Imperial officer leaning over Howzer's shoulder. A female officer.

"You want to tell me how you got those scars, captain?" she crooned, swaying over the back of the couch, her long braid falling over her shoulder from underneath her officer cap. She almost leaned too far, catching herself at the last minute with a laugh. Aurelia paused, feeling a paralyzing mix of awkwardness and jealousy and insecurity. 

"It's not as exciting as you'd think," Howzer replied politely, shifting in his seat slightly away from her. 

"You're too modest," she said, tracing a finger along the tip of his ear, which startled him and made him flinch minutely. "Oh, jumpy too, eh?" she laughed. Aurelia was suddenly overwhelmed with a strong desire to drag the officer right out the door by her braid, but also wasn't the confrontational type. 

"Sorry -- ma'am -- I'm just here to celebrate my brother," he attempted, pointing to Evo who was triumphantly beating Steady at arm wrestling. 

"Well let's celebrate!" she declared, sliding over the back of the couch and landing halfway in Howzer's lap with an inebriated giggle. The insecurity melted into indignant anger as Aurelia watched, still standing in the flow of traffic, but she had no time to process it with the rapid-fire events that followed. 

Two Twi'lek females danced their way over into the center of their little lounge area, sparkly metals dangling and shimmering from their headdresses, halter tops, and waists. A couple of the clones gave a little cheer, while one in particular looked incredibly sour. One of the Twi'leks leaned over Howzer, right in between him and the Imperial, and spoke loudly.

"Move along, nice lady. The Captain is more than you can handle," she said, words unmistakable despite her thickly exotic accent. "Why don't you try one of the boys?"

"You can't talk to me like--" the officer protested, but the Twi'lek grabbed her by the arms and, in an incomprehensibly mesmerizing way, picked her up and danced her right out of the area. 

"Go on, sweetie. Trust me," she said, giving the woman one last little push, "You don't want to come between a hunter and her prey." Baring her teeth in some kind of sexy feral display of dominance, the Twi'lek whipped around, nearly smacking the Imperial in the face with her lekku, and headed back toward Howzer, who saw her approaching and quickly rose to his feet and made a beeline for the back of the bar counter. She moved to follow him, but was mercifully intercepted by Demo, who waggled his mustache at her suggestively and patted the seat next to him. Apparently she wasn't too terribly set on her prey, because she happily took him up on the offer.

Aurelia found Howzer on the stool at the far end of the bar, near the back of the room in a quieter area of the large spherical area. The band still played, but the acoustics seemed to point the music more toward the front, so it was a blessed relief from the overstimulation. She slipped onto the stool next to him with a smile, trying to determine how to play this. 

"If three-years-ago-you could have seen all that, he would have died a happy man," she poked, with a lighthearted pat on the hand. There was something nostalgic about connecting with him at the back of the bar, and she chuckled at the drastic difference of the circumstances.

"I blame you for that," he returned evenly, tilting his head at her. "It's like they know I'm in--"

He was cut off by an approaching figure: a woman in civilian clothes, dancing to the music and gesturing for him to join her. Aurelia's mind was a thousand steps ahead of her -- what was he about to say? She felt jealous and angry, insecure and anxious, and wondered what she could possibly do to set herself apart if this was what he experienced on a regular basis. She glanced back at him and almost laughed at his expression: flustered frustration, utter bafflement, and sudden ingenuity. 

He stood from his stool, moving right up against Aurelia, and tipped her chin up with one hand while wrapping the other arm around her. Before she knew what was happening, he was kissing her, and his hand moved back to cup the back of her head. After the initial shock, her hands slipped around his back, pulling herself close against the plastoid armor plates. He pulled away for a moment, casting a quick glance to the side where the disappointed woman was sauntering away, and Aurelia began to lean back as well. 

"Oh wait, more are coming," Howzer said with overly dramatic urgency, and his lips were on hers again. Her head was spinning, but his closeness and scent and increasingly passionate kisses made everything else fade away. Her hands roved up his chest and wrapped around his neck, across his shoulders. He lowered his arms to her waist, pulling back a fraction of an inch.

"Are they gone?" he asked in a conspiratorial whisper, and she laughed as she turned to glance around the room. Before she could reply, his lips were brushing against her ear, his warm breath tickling and sending shivers down her spine. "Better just be certain..." he murmured, placing a kiss on her neck that felt electrifying. 

"Oh I see how it is!" a male voice boomed, and Howzer retreated to look but left his arms firmly around Aurelia. "You pretend like you're not interested in all the ladies but here you are, hiding like a womp rat in the corner!" Steady stood before them, a teasing smirk plastered across his face. 

"I'm not hiding," Howzer began, but Steady was boisterously clapping Aurelia on the back. 

"Congratulations to you, my friend!" he proclaimed, giving Howzer a light punch on the shoulder as well. "This one's pretty mysterious and solitary though, so don't get your hopes up!"

Aurelia laughed, reeling from everything happening so fast, and nodded wordlessly. Howzer looked at her with an apologetic shrug and a glint in his eye as he spoke, "Sorry, I guess he's right."

"I'll take my chances," she quipped, smiling at Howzer before returning her gaze to Steady, who gave them both another slap on the back.

"Well don't say I didn't warn ya! Come on, Evo's gonna arm wrestle a Trandoshan!" 

Howzer took Aurelia's hand, entwining his fingers with hers, and followed Steady back to the group. Evo was sitting opposite the giant lizard, who was hissing menacingly as he cracked his muscles. Demo was elbows deep in Twi'lek woman on the couch nearby, and Steady took a seat next to Loner, who, contrary to his name, was sitting close enough to watch the action. 

"Look! Captain's got himself a little treat tonight!" Demo called out before a finger to his lips silenced him and he disappeared into a pile of baubles and lekku once again. 

Aurelia stiffened, feeling numerous eyes on them, and tried to look casual. It wasn't until Howzer released her hand to put an arm firmly around her shoulders and regarded each of his brothers with a calm, even gaze, that she felt the tension ease up.

"What are we betting?" he said, nodding toward Evo, and the hoots and hollers began. 

.

Next Chapter

[crispyjenkins]

Rexobi. I really just wanna see Rex and Obi-wan drinking together and complaining about the disaster that is Anakin Skywalker. They decide to team up to get anakin to calm the heck down and to talk about his feelings. Anakin doesn’t realize what’s going on but gets the idea he needs to play matchmaker with his master and his captain. He thinks he’s the smart one but he’s really not

(i have once again chickened out of your full prompt and instead give you the leadup to rexobi getting anakin to talk about his feelings. 

i uhhh may be unable to think of anything but a rexobi au à la this post by @norcumii and @dharmaavocado about roleswap-ish senior padawan obi hella vibing with this mutant clone that can’t get above the rank of captain even as an arc trooper because the kaminoans are Like That, and qui-gon is going spare, because between anakin somehow being allowed to be in charge of a whole battalion and obi-wan picking fights with every single seperatist leader, he and cody never get a moment of peace. and like. just obi and rex being dumbass 20 year olds trying to deal with a general/master like anakin in the middle of a war. i don’t have TIME for that though

thank you for the prompt as always, i think this is the only rexobi/obex prompt i’ve ever gotten and this ship is criminally underappreciated. like?? kadavo?? anyways here’s whatever this is)

Alt+R to Quick Reblog on Desktop, Hold the Reblog Symbol to Quick Reblog on Mobile

 Not for the first time, Rex wishes Kote were the one here dealing with this, because “how to comfort your favorite Jedi” hadn’t exactly been covered in ARC training – actually, Alpha probably withheld the information on purpose, the fucker.

  But Kote is on the other side of the galaxy with the 187th and just as upset they’re not here in Rex’s stead: it’s barely a month off General Kenobi returning to his own face, and Rex knows his vod would strangle the entire Senate if given even half a chance for deploying them separately on their general’s first mission back after the Hardeen... incident. 

  And Fett’s Ghost knows Rex’s own general is going to pitch a fit when he finds out Rex is here instead of taking leave like the rest of the 501st, but Kote certainly wasn’t about to let Kenobi go all the way to Alderaan unguarded so soon after his supposed death; and honestly, Rex would have been offended if they had asked anybody else to do it. Thankfully, Kenobi hadn’t seemed offended when Rex had shown up at the Jedi Temple’s flight hangar before he could take off; instead, he had been rather amused. 

  Even luckier, Alderaan is barely a day’s jump from Coruscant, so they don’t have to spend too much time awkwardly pretending that Rex hadn’t attended the man’s funeral in Kote's place (that he would have attended anyways), or that Rex doesn’t know Anakin hasn’t spoken to his former master since their debrief to the High Council about Cad Bane. Which Rex should absolutely not know in the first place, but Anakin is his friend, for better or for worse, and Ahsoka thinks her master airs far too many of his grievances to his captain.

  It isn't until their cruiser is making the descent over Alderaan that Kenobi finally addresses the tension between them, which only proves that Kenobi is well aware of it, but had put it off as long as he could. It's a humanising observation, that Rex wishes he could have had when he isn't the only vod in a ten mile radius that isn't the pilot, because at least then he wouldn't be the sole receiver of the soft smile Kenobi gives him as he joins Rex to wait by the shuttle's access hatch.

  Rex thanks his progenitor's laughing corpse he has his bucket on, because all he can do is stare. 

  "You are worried about Anakin," Kenobi says matter of factly, though not unkindly, and Rex lets out a breath that's almost a laugh. 

  "I promise I am far more discrete with my thoughts in the field, sir."

  Kenobi chuckles warmly, tucking his arms behind his back to watch the planet under them grow larger as they approach. "Do try not to worry so much, my dear, this will all resolve itself in time." 

  It's hard to stare right at his gentle assuredness, so Rex looks away. "You have far more faith in his ability to forgive than I, sir."

  That laugh strains at the edges. "Yes, well, I'm afraid some of my lessons seem to have been... lacking."

  Rex has regs carbon-printed on his brain, he knows that even without the direct chain of command, the soft push and pull of his relationship with Kenobi, the steady, serene growth of it, is... problematic, for so many reasons that he wouldn't know where to start. Not least of all is rank, how much more important a Jedi is than a replaceable CC-track washout, but, well, Rex had washed out for being too emotional, so it's not as if he's exactly unused to reacting to things inappropriately for a good little soldier.

  "It's not my place, sir," he murmurs, remembering Kadavo, remembering Umbara, remembering the hand Kenobi had laid on his shoulder for far too long after the Blue Shadow virus, and has Rex really been this gone since then? "just say the word and I won't mention it again. But just because Kote isn't here doesn't mean you have to... shoulder all of this alone."

  In fact, it's wildly not his place to make such an offer, however implicit, but that month on Kadavo did happen, and Rex isn't so self-deprecating to believe he  hadn't had a heavy hand in helping Kenobi make it out on the other side as well as he did. He doesn't think so little of the bond they had formed then, to believe that Obi-Wan is unaware of it. 

  Not when he smiles at Rex like that, like he's a warm cup of caf after a week in the trenches, like Rex is... worthy of such sincere affection. 

  As the shuttle settles around them and the pilot announces their arrival over comm, Obi-Wan simply says, "I did not for a moment believe I was, my dear."

-

  "You and Rex seem close."

  Normally Obi-Wan can feel Anakin coming from an entire corridor away, but he also knows Quinlan has been teaching him a few Shadow tricks, so he isn't entirely surprised when Anakin appears at his elbow in the empty bridge looking like a smug necu.

  Aside from eating firstmeal with Kote in the mess, Obi-Wan hasn't even seen Rex today, much less interacted with him: as he understands it, Rex is trying to round up the remaining 501st shinies that are running around the Negotiator, so Obi-Wan really doesn't know where Anakin had gotten that notion. Recently, at least. 

  Anakin rolls his eyes and scoffs, leaning back on the railing next to him and crossing his arms. "Please, Master, even Snips has noticed."

  Obi-Wan refrains from telling him that anyone with a modicum more self-awareness than him has noticed. Be that as it may, "This is one of those times where I truly don't know what you're trying to say, my dear: I have been close with Rex since he was in the 212th."

  It isn't even an exaggeration, that there had been... something between them before Anakin whisked Rex away to his own battalion after his knighting, though back then it had been nothing more than friendship. If he recalls correctly, and he does, the cleanup of the Ryloth capitol had been the first time since then that they had worked closely, while Anakin had been on the ground with the locals and Mace had been with General Syndulla, and Obi-Wan had found he still quite enjoyed the way they worked together. Their time on Naboo combating the Blue Shadow virus had only endeared the captain more to him —he does remember a slip in propriety in his relief that Rex had been rescued safely with Padmé and Ahsoka, a hand left too long on the captain's shoulder until Kote had called him away— enough that Obi-Wan had been both relieved and horrified that it was Rex there to support him on Kadavo.

  "Cody said Rex was the one to go with you to Alderaan; you sure nothing 'happened' while you were there?" Anakin chuckles to himself like he's being incredibly clever, like there isn’t a hickey visible over the collar of his under tunic.

  Obi-Wan raises a brow slowly and refrains from rolling his eyes. "Despite what you may believe, Anakin, not everyone leaps into committed relationships after life-threatening situations." Not that Alderaan had been life-threatening, it had actually been as close to actual leave as Obi-Wan has had the entire war.

  "Please, it took Padmé and I ages to–" 

  Anakin seems to swallow his tongue, then, face rapidly going purple, and it really is a miracle the entire Republic doesn’t know about his marriage; the GAR certainly does.

  Sighing, Obi-Wan checks the chrono and decides it isn't too early for another cup of tea. "If you have a specific question about my relationship with Captain Rex, I do wish you’d be direct, my dear."

  Anakin splutters. "Relationship?!"

  "Great Maker, Anakin, you’re easier to spook than a half-starved blurrg." He pats Anakin’s arm, his sonbrother floundering for anything other than abject confoundment, as Obi-Wan turns away from the bridge to go locate both tea, and his commander to hopefully finalise their newest mission orders. "Don't worry," he calls over his shoulder, "I'll actually let you come to the wedding, unlike someone."

  Not that Obi-Wan has any such plans, Maker knows he and Rex have yet to address their feelings in the first place, but he'd be lying if part of him doesn't want to conspire with the captain in question —and perhaps Ahsoka— to see just how far they could take this before Anakin realises they're stringing him along. 

 Remarkably, Rex is waiting by Obi-Wan’s office with a flimsi cup of tea and a harried smile that promised quite the day chasing after shinies, and Obi-Wan decides conning his former apprentice can wait.

Mando’a: vod/e — “brother/s”, “comrade/s”, “sibling/s”, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brother/s”

[bigsnzstanacct]

King’s New Allergy Part 4

This is wildly overwritten but at least I’m writing...? Here is the link to the other chapters of this story lmao. Of course it is also on le blue forum. After this chapter there is one more to conclude the story (which is already partially written!) and then there’s a chance I’ll eventually write an aggressively porn-y epilogue. okay byeeeeeeee!

------

My nose. My damned nose. By all the gods old and new, my insatiable, insufferable, intolerable, insistent, itchy, tickly, twitching, torurous nose!

“So the… th-thehhhh… the harvest in the W-weehhhhh… Western… -sniff-”

I was fighting.  I was fighting as hard as I’d ever fought anything. Harder. But to do battle against a swordsman, a sorceror, a monster, a ghost… that was child’s play. For that I had tools and training. Years of training in weapons and fighting. For this meeting too: years of training in diplomacy, in leadership. But none of that training involved a struggle to the death against your own damned nose!

“In the W-wehhhh… weeeeeeehhHHHH…”

Through narrowing eyes, I saw their faces: full of disapproval, fear, hands itching to clap to their ears, legs twitching to hide under the table, as though I really were a storm unto myself, and in taking cover, they might be spared the worst. Perhaps if I simply allowed the sneeze to come, it might not be so monstrous but… I could not. I could not bring myself to succumb so easily, to give in, to be weak. I chanced putting a finger beneath my nose. It was a desperate failsafe that had served at least a few times, but in truth I could never resist for long. I could no more resist these violent eruptions than the sky, overcharged with energy, could resist the lightning arcing across the sky, or the terrible roar of the thunder in response.

“Oh gods… I’m sahhhh.. s-ssaahhhhhh… s-sorreeehhhhhHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRSSSSCCCHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! AnothhheeEERRRYYYYYYYYAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! hehhhh… hh-hehhhhhh… HUUUH! HHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

They came, thick, fast and violent. Each one felt like it took all my strength, as though I couldn’t help but through the full weight of my body—no, the full weight of the castle herself into each sneeze. And then, for a moment…

Bliss.

No itch, no tickle, no torture. As terrible as they were, as much as they terrorized my meeting, my castle, my citizens, my countryside… there was a guilty, fiendish part of me that felt such magnificent release and relief with each great roar that was loosed from my mouth and nose. Drained, too, of course. Exhausted as though I’d climbed a mountain after practically each sneeze, let alone a whole terrible fit of them like I’d done. But also, utterly and simply delighted.

And then I opened my eyes and the embarrassment flooded in, and then, barely a split-second later, the tiny, teasing, barely-perceptible blossom of the itch that presaged another sneeze. The urge to sneeze again was following closer and closer on the glorious feeling of release and relief. When this all started I could go half the day without a sneezing fit. Then hours. Now barely minutes. But perhaps if I didn’t think about it, if I just barrelled through and ignored the tickle… maybe it would leave me alone.

“My apologies again, gentlemen.” I said, and quickly, before anyone could comment upon my nose: “Now, the Western harvest is among the best we’ve had in some years, which means our levy at the current rate should be -sniff!-” the itch already was worming its way up. But I could hold out still. I could ignore it.

“At the current rate should be more than sufficient to provide for capitol needs, y-yes Minister?”

The Minister of the Exchequer tried to discreetly rub at his ears, but it was obvious what he was doing, trying to clear his head from my sneezing long enough to focus on what I was saying. I couldn’t bear it.

“Yes! It will be sufficient, I don’t need you to check my arithmetic. You may repohhh… re-re…” I gave a hard sniff, and allowed myself  a quick rub at the underside of my nose with the heel of my palm. It was an embarrassing, almost childish gesture but I was far beyond caring about small embarrassments. I had much, much larger mortifications to be concerned with.

“Youmayreportbackifneedsbe!” I barrelled out, knowing the tickle was already roused, and at any moment could turn the act of speech into feat as tricky as any in my storied questing career.

“What is the next item on the ahhh… hahhh…” my eyes swam, unfocused for a moment. Hands crept up towards ears, dread lining in every face of the council. I could feel my knights tensing behind me, as though bracing for an explosion, hoping not to be knocked off their feet. The sneeze wasn’t even ready, it would play with me for several more moment yet. It reminded me of nothing more than sparring with the quartermaster as a boy: putting up a valiant fight, certain I was on the edge of victory… only to find he was only playing a game with me. He would always win.

“The next agenda item!” I said, slamming a fist down on the table. I wasn’t angry with the council, and I hope they knew that, but. It was all so damned frustrating… I couldn’t speak without terrifying my council, not with my words but with the threat of my nose. Of all the mortifying.

“Well my lord, we have not admitted petitioners in over three weeks, owing to your condition. I was informed the Royal Physician as well as the, ah, King’s Right Hand will be pursuing some possibilities for treatment, but the peo---”

“Damn the conditiiIiiiHHHHHH… HHIIIHHHHHH!!” May noses and sneezes be damned by all the gods old and new! The urge was already prickling in my nose, fanning its way towards inevitability, as though to mock me for cursing it. By all the gods, I should be able to see my people, to hear their complaints and all because of my god’s damned lack of control, I couldn’t even do that… I felt furious as a boy, looking up at the quartermaster teary-eyed with rage at losing, at humiliation. And here I was again, losing. And to a thrice damned tickle in my thrice damned nose…!

My nose, on which the whole room hyperfocused, as intent upon it as I’d ever been on any foe on the battlefield. Every twitch garnered a flinch, every skipped breath a skipped heartbeat. My damned sneezes could be heard throughout the entire castle, throughout the entire town. I was just waiting for someone to announce they’d heard me sneeze at the furthest edges of the regions, echoing off the Black Mountains or the White Cliffs, resounding across oceans…

With all that, being so close to my sneeze must have been a form of auditory torture. And I couldn’t put my advisors through that. Not any longer. And not with the vague but unmistakable sense I felt that what was beginning to well up in me would be a fit to rival any I’d suffered since I came down with this accursed, irreparable allergy, this implacable need that seemed to be unmoved by any force physical or magical, on earth or in the realms above. I was going to sneeze, and the fit would leave me exhausted and the whole castle ringing, I knew. But the urge itself was small now, my winds gathering strength for the one man hurricane they would turn me into. What a curse, to make of a king a slave to his own body. I was disgusted with myself. And yet, I could no more stop the force building within me than I could will the rising sun to set or still the flowing tide.

This council meeting was accomplishing nothing. And dammit, I needed to sneeze.

Abruptly, I pushed back from the chair. Everyone rose with me. “Ladies and gentlemen, you must excuse me, I’m a-afraid… oh I…” I was doing my best to keep up a kingly facade but already I was faltering before the effort of damming back the torrent of sneezes that seemed to be pressing up against each other, jockeying for position, each demanding to be the first to erupt out of me. “oh gods, I have to sneeze. It’s going to be a terrible fit and I… Iahhhhhh… I m-muuhhhhh… I must r-repair to my… my chahhhhHHHHH… hAHHHHHHHHHHHH… w-with m-mehhhh…!”

I ordered my retinue to follow me, but I’m sure a number of them did so quite reluctantly, and frankly I couldn’t blame them. What I felt coming seemed like a sneeze to beat all sneezes, an itch to beat all itches, nothing which could soothed, calmed, or controlled by a little finger under the nose, a few rough rubs. I’d asked my former manservant more than once about his… powers. How he felt all the hidden powers of the earth welling up through him, the connection to the secret side of everything, how he could make it shimmer and dance. I felt the same sense  of something beyond myself intruding upon me, but it was not under my control. I was beneath its thumb, dancing like a marionette on a string in miserable abasement to, of all things, a tickle in my nose.

“Someone… someone please… huhhhh… p-put your f-finger… under…”

It was pathetic. At least I’d managed to get well out of the way of the council chambers before I succumbed. I’d only embarrassed myself like this once or twice before, but if this went on much longer, I’d have to appoint a knight to do this for me full time, to press and pinch and wrangle my nose in a way my own hands could no longer suffice. Perhaps that way I could at least forestall the sneezes long enough to do any of the duties of a king.

But for now, my only goal was fighting off the absolutely monstrous fit I felt brewing for a few more moments, until I could at least reach my chamber. At least then I could succumb in private, although such succumbing was never private. Before the curse even, I blushed to think a vigorous sneeze might echo through the castle, and I never could dam them back. But under the curse now… all of the castle, all of the city heard my every falter. The sound of my failure resounding back at me from every brick in the kingdom.

The Captain of the Guard slid a thick finger under my nose, and ever so imperceptibly the urge diminished. He pushed upward, hard. And all I could do was blink at him in acknowledgement. At this point a single word would send it all crashing down.

“Knights dismissed! I will escort the King further.” I heard his voice ringing out, and I was as grateful as I’d ever been for him. At least the knights would be spared the very worst. The captain alone would be with me to the eruptive end.

“Not much further now, sire. Please, hold out!” And there was an uncertainty or even... a fear in his voice. It wasn't as if I'd never heard such fear from the Captain of the Guard before. We had quested together, season after season. But this tone of voice ought to be reserved for a onrushing army or a sleeping dragon. Surely there was no reason to steel himself so before my nose?

“T-t-traahhHHHH… tr-trying…” I choked out, scrunching my nose as aggressively as I could, as though if my nostrils recoiled from the irritation, I might dodge the sneeze—no, sneezes—altogether.

And suddenly, unimaginably, the urge… exploded.

It was as if I had never needed to sneeze before in my life. Tears sprang to my eyes, and the simmering flame of the urge became a wild forest fire. Helplessly, I jerked away from the Captain, scrubbing desperately at my nose even as the heavy breaths ripped themselves from me…

“HHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHH… HUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…”

“My King, not yet!” the Captain insisted. Not to be deterred, he came up behind me and tried to guide me, but I was surrendered to the sneeze, overpowered by the urge, defeated by the invisible twinging need. He was practically pushing me as the sneeze swelled and swelled.

“HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… UUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…”

It swelled more and MORE, feeling more ferocious than any of my previous sneezes. I felt like a volcano on the precipice of eruption, as though my winds were swirling and turning and twisting and braiding their way towards tornadic devastation, as though I were not only a a lightning strike but indeed a whole storm set loose to wreak havoc across the land.

“Nearly there, nearly there, please sire you musn't give in…”

But it was too late.

“AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSCHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” I exploded, and it was as though… some sort of… power erupted from me, from my mouth and nose from… from everywhere. The sneezes had always been incredibly loud but now tapestries on the wall flapped, armor rattled, it sounded as though something fell but I couldn’t tell because before I could so much as think, the next sneeze was already erupting: “HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOO-AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUHHHH!!!! AARRRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! HehHHHHHHH… HEEEEEYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTSSSCCCHHHHHHHHHEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!! YYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTSSSSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW!!!”

On and on and on the sneezes came, more and more violent, “volume” not even describing what I felt bursting from me. Somewhere, dimly, I heard the sounds of something falling over, and yet still the steady pressure of the Captain at my back, finally…

“Sir, your chamber… We must not let them see you!”

Whether I was able to exert some minimal effort even subdued by my sneeze attack, or whether the Captain just shoved me, somehow I stumbled into the chamber, still sneezing relentlessly, barely heard the door slam behind me, helpless to the urge. My whole world narrowed to my nose, and it was as though some block within me surrendered and the sneezes roared out of me, louder and more violent than ever before again and again and again…

I could not tell how long it had been when the fit finally ended. I felt… amazing. Warm and sated. Entirely itch-free, as though I’d never need to sneeze again in my life. Practically glowing. Maybe that was it? Maybe that monster of a fit had at last blown the insufferable urge away for good? But the moment of euphoria lasted barely an instant. I heard a… squeak? and I opened my eyes to find… him. The sorcerer. His robes and hair disheveled, and then, the room… The bed was without sheets. The mattress ripped, feathers piled against the stone wall, piled up with the rugs, half my clothes, my pillows, my chairs…

“Wh-what… what did I… what did I do?” I asked, panting and mortified.

He stood, mortified, as red as I’d seen him in years. His mouth agape. “I—I… I—I have to go!” He exclaimed, and rushed from the room.

Had I hurt him? Scared him? Surely he of all the denizens of the castle had no reason to fear… anyone. But as I cast my eyes across the disheveled, half-wrecked room, I began to see what he saw. Nothing to fear. But something to pity. An out-of-control freak. Certainly no King.

And even then, with a trickle of fear running down my spine… I began to feel the urge to sneeze again, sputtering back to life. I sat on my bed, feeling the weakened timbers sputter and creak with my weight, head in hands.

“By all the gods…”

[c-is-for-circinate]

Y’all this episode had everything I could possibly have wanted and things I never even knew to wish for.

How did one episode start with Henry Crabgrass, the most glorious and beloved NPC of my heart, and end with mother fucking Avantika, with so much awesome shit in between!!!  How!!!

Okay I am making a list of shit I absolutely loved tonight, in approximate chronological order:

Y’all I just love Henry Crabgrass so much.  I don’t even have smart things to say about that fact, just a warm glow in my heart.  May all the light of Melora’s grace smile down upon them and leave Henry as the toughest, most unkillable patch of crabgrass in all Exandria.

Vess and the Tombtakers, so many questions and so few certain answers, so many things to wonder, so many dots to connect!  I really do feel like the crew are connecting them at this point, and while I’m sure in some places they’re far from the map, the general outline really is starting to emerge.  What, exactly, was in the book the Tombtakers tried to claim without showing it to Vess deRogna first?  What did it do to Lucien?  And, if Vess has the book--what are they trying to find now?

So okay, let’s talk about Yasha and Beau. As someone who has had a lot of feelings about the intense relatability of Beau’s crush on Jester, I have now fully committed to also having a whole lot of mostly new feelings about these terrible awkward disaster lesbians with no fucking idea what they’re doing.  I saw a post the other day mention how this whole relationship is about the feeling of discovering you can have this, that you can actually be happy, that you get to have this kind of relationship with someone.  I’ve written about that.  And I feel it so, so hard, every time I see them interact, when every bit of bravado leaves both of them. It’s so easy to be off-putting!  It’s so easy to have crushes on wonderful people you kind of wish would look at you but you’re absolutely sure never will.  It’s so hard to actually know what the fuck to do in the face of wait shit this might actually be a thing I could get for real? how? wait, how???

Also let’s talk about Jester in that scene, who ships Beauyasha harder than anything in the world???   Because yes, right, some of it is just that Jester loves romance, and some of it’s that Jester gets very invested in the happiness of her friends, but that is a lot of investment there.  And I can’t help wondering if there’s a little dimension of...she wants to see True Love and Happily-Ever-After work.  And she’s delighted to see it work for her friends who she loves, and when it comes true they’ll be happy and she loves that, but also I don’t know that Jester’s ever actually seen two people fall in love with each other and enter into a healthy, happy relationship before.  But hey, all of her books say this wonderful magical thing exists, and now it seems to actually be showing up for her friends?  Of course she wants to see it.  Of course she wants it to be just as magical and wonderful as in all her stories, even if it’s not for her. (And maybe especially if it’s not for her, but I think that’s a whole separate post about Jester and her very high passive insight and all the people who are in love with her and the very specific ways she treats each of them.)

I love Yeza.  Don’t we all love Yeza?  He’s trying so hard.  It’s always great to see Yeza for that kind of wide-eyed outsider POV on the M9 shenanigans, and I love it.  He made a comment this episode about meeting goblins while living in Rosohna, and everything that’s happened to him really hit me in a while new way.  Usually I think about how he’s had his life turned upside down by all of this, but man, just think how much he’s seen that he never in a million years would have begun to expect to experience!  This smalltown alchemist from a pastoral little farming city in the middle of the Dwendalian midwest has lived for a significant amount of time as a housekeeper in the capitol city of the Krynn Dynasty.  He must have gone to the markets and met the neighbors and learned the streets and the food, and who had he ever known in his whole life who could say such a thing?  He lived with the Ruby of the Sea in Nicodranas by the ocean.  He’s been to Zadash, now, and it’s only a matter of time before he sees Rexxentrum.  How much farther will he go?  (Man, I would love some good Yeza fic once this campaign is over.  I think it’s going to take that long for me to really know how his story arc ends.)

Someone was posting earlier this episode about witnessing Vess scare Yeza so badly, and insight into how the Nein are starting to run in circles that really outstrip the people they used to know.  Watching Pumat in the wake of being Informed By Lady de Rogna That He Would Put A Rush On That has really hammered it home.  They remarked, in their very M9 somewhat idle vaguely ridiculous way that they wanted the icebreaker, and one tiny snowman later Vess had pulled rank and money and rerouted the ship’s entire passage for them.  She’s scary--and with her, the M9 have the kind of power that’s scary, too. And that’s always such an interesting moment.  The M9 are used to thinking of themselves as people with very little, who have to fight and scrap and get lucky for their own survival all the time.  And yes, they’re utterly careless with money--why not be, when it comes and goes and almost none of them have ever really seen it help or last?  And yes, they’re prone to violence and sometimes pretty rude.  But before now, it’s always been a situation where the M9 acting loud, rude, and demanding could be chaotic underdogs scrapping to get what they needed or wanted from people who had the option of saying no.  Suddenly they’re in a position where the balance of social situations is biased in their favor instead of against them. There’s such a difference between ‘please accede to my unreasonable request because I have a high charisma and will pay you lots of gold’, and, ‘you’re going to accede to my unreasonable request because otherwise my Cerberus Assembly boss may or may not have you assassinated’.  The M9 have never been on this side of that before.  I’m very curious to see how much they notice that they are now.

PALADIN OATH PALADIN OATH PALADIN OATH!  I was not paying nearly enough attention when that scene started, so I am going to need to watch it again and also make extra sure to read any available source material on this specific homebrew oath, because it’s probably not exactly the same as the Oath of the Sea homebrew you can find on google.  There’s some overlap between the abilities there and the ones Fjord already have, and the vows don’t quite match up, though some of them are close.  Ugh, mostly I’m just so glad it has happened and Fjord has promised and he means it, he means it so much.  He rest-of-his-life means it, and my heart belongs to Fjord who couldn’t even imagine the rest of his life as a thing separate from the monotony of his first thirty years, so very recently.

I actually always really love when CR has episodes at sea?  Obviously the M9 have done it the most, but Vox Machina went sailing a time or two as well, and it’s just always so great.  It’s often days of down time in a way that overland travel isn’t, and the party fills it with so many good little moments.  Matt always gives them such cool encounters.  On boats, spending a week at a time getting from one place to another, so much of the chaos of rewriting a plan seventeen times in an hour gets stripped away: they’re headed towards a destination, sometimes something comes up to deter them, and they have to find a way to deal with it.  There are always crew members and the structure of a boat itself to take into consideration in any combat that pops up.  It’s just such a nice tone, and I also love that the ocean itself kind of hates them now because it adds really delightful additional risks, and anyway heck yeah ocean voyage.

WHICH ENDS IN UNDEAD AVANTIKA ATTACKING THE SHIP WITH A TRIO OF CRAB-MEN AND WHO KNOWS WHAT ELSE HOLY FUCK.  Look, I think M9 becoming pirates by accident and then trying to figure out wtf might actually be my favorite arc of this campaign so far, and every time it comes back I get so so happy.  I’ve got some feelings about this showing up in the same episode as Fjord finally taking his full oath to the Wildmother. They are going to have to kill U’kotoa before this campaign is through.  They are going to have to, because Fjord will never be safe on the ocean again if they don’t, and Fjord has bound himself by vow and will in service as the Wildmother’s paladin of the open sea.  She hasn’t asked it of him, not specifically, but it’s his job.  It’s going to be his job.  In part it’ll be because it’s poetic justice, Fjord taking down the cruel demigod who (in some ways) made him.  Mostly it’s just that killing U’kotoa is a job that needs to be done.  To protect the oceans, the life they hold, the people who sail upon them, it’s going to need to be done.  It’s Melora’s domain to do this, which means it’s her paladin’s job, and Fjord is her paladin of the sea.  It’ll be him sooner or later.

I am so fucking delighted at the massive pile of fireworks on the deck of this ship, and I hope to god these Chekhovian bottle rockets go off before the end of this combat encounter, because this is, in fact, all I ever wanted the minute Beau put them in there.

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Night Terrors, pt. 1

WARNING: This story deals with torture flashbacks, several of which are specifically dealing with waterboarding. If these scenes would cause any problems for you, please do not read. I am only basing my portrayal of PTSD on internet research and very little first hand knowledge.

Here it is folks. The two shot that started the current MIC iteration. This was one of my first stories for Modern Inheritance (written in 2016 iirc). As such, it’s not totally in line with the image I have for the series and characters now (Early 2021), but it is a solid baseline and actually pretty damn close. At some point I may rewrite it, but for now, I’m happy with this reminder of changes.)

PART 1 // Part 2

~~~

Arya never really slept well.

True, her sleep got a bit better once they had arrived at Ellesméra, something she was incredibly thankful for, but being able to sleep through every other night without nightmares or a heart pounding night terror ripping her from her waking dreams was still not good enough to be considered ‘sleeping well.’ If it weren’t for those blessed nights of uninterrupted slumber the elf was sure she would be a walking wreck.

So far she had managed to avoid waking anyone else. Islanzadí, surprisingly enough, would occasionally check on her daughter in the middle of the night, and on nights where she found her sitting at the balcony staring at the stars, the queen would join her in silent companionship. It was a sign their relationship was mending, and if Arya was still stuck, mute and fearful, in her dreams, the slender arm that wrapped around her shoulders and soft humming would pull the younger elf from the darker recesses of her mind.

Something about tonight was different, though. As Arya slipped under the comforter on her bed– having finally gotten used to sleeping in it after two weeks of sleeping on a progressively thicker pile of sleeping bags on the floor– she felt a tingle of distant static dart across the pads of her fingers. When she glanced out the doors to the balcony, a far off thunderhead appeared as a purple smear against the orange and pink sunset. Lightning flickered through the cloud, seeming to rent it from corner to corner before it again returned to the color of bruised skin.

'Good. We haven’t had rain in some time.’ The elf thought as she turned on her side and closed her eyes. She tugged the corner of the comforter under her chin and drifted off into her waking dreams, hoping the sway of the tree would lull her into a peaceful sleep.

~

Arya’s waking dreams stuttered. Something had changed in her surroundings, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on until she realized she couldn’t breathe.

Everything felt heavy and damp, especially around her face and definitely over her mouth and nose. It was pitch black and something was clamped over her eyes, shoving her head back against a hard, flat surface. She couldn’t move, no matter how much she internally screamed at her muscles to do so, and with a terrifying jolt she realized she couldn’t breathe either. Warm water gushed into her mouth and flooded her sinuses, panic filling her chest as quickly as the liquid did.

“We can end this here and now, elf.” A cold voice whispered in her ear, and the fall of water against her face halted. The hand over Arya’s eyes lifted and bright light flared across her lids as a sodden cloth was removed. The demon beside the woman let her cough and choke, trying to expel the water in her lungs but unable to while he still pushed her head back with a hand on her clammy forehead. “What say you, hm? A few words are all I want. Speak them to me, and you will be released from this.” He knew she wouldn’t be able to respond, not verbally at least, but that was part of his game. He knew she would never speak.

Using the little leeway he gave her, Arya managed to scowl, spitting water from between her teeth, and shake her head a few millimeters from side to side. Durza sighed mockingly and slapped the wet cloth back down over her face.

“Oh well. Ready to die again, little elf?“

Lightning flashed across Arya’s eyes as she fell from the bed and hit the floor hard, a strangled cry escaping her throat. She scrambled to kick the tangled blanket off of her legs and dove for her pack to rip her sword from where it was tied to the frame.

A clap of thunder rang out as she pulled the blade free just in time to feel her back flare white hot with agony, lines of fire tracing wounds she knew had been healed. It had been weeks since they closed, hadn’t it? Hadn’t it?!

A fist slammed into her side, cracking a rib and sending her to the floor again, sword still clamped in a white knuckled grip.

'Get dressed. Get out of here. Fight.’ The thought was barely registered as Arya scrambled for the combat pants she wore while with the Varden, another line of pain lancing its way up her right arm. For a brief moment, as she struggled to yank the pants on without giving up her sword, she swore she saw blood dripping from her fingers, trailing from a deep gash that revealed the bones and tendons flexing in her forearm.

She dropped her blade for a split second to yank on a standard issue cotton shirt and then snatched the weapon up again. She tore her pistol belt and combat jacket out of her pack, quickly patting the pockets to make sure the pressure bandage and small medkit were still there, and slung both over her arm. Thunder crashed again, followed by a clap of lightning nearby.

Another blow clipped the elf’s shoulder as she dashed for the balcony, nearly shoving her out the open doors before she caught herself on the jamb.

It was raining. Wet spray splashed up into Arya’s face and she recoiled, feeling her throat tighten and her already rapid heartbeat increase. She couldn’t breathe. He chuckled coldly and pushed her off the table with his boot, watching her vomit up water and what little food remained in her stomach as she convulsed on the floor. All that water and yet it still felt as if her lungs were on fire.

Arya could feel another strike coming, another slash from a whip arcing through the damp air. It was either continue facing her invisible attackers or brave the water.

With a savage growl the elf bounded through the doorway and out into the elements, leaping from the balcony to the tier below, the tier below that one, and finally to the ground. She straightened from the crouch she had landed in, then staggered as the raindrops slammed into her back and sent fresh shocks of pain across her skin. The raw wounds– 'How are they open again!'– and exposed nerves registered each and every drop of water as a lightning bolt that seared its way to her brain.

”Giving up so soon? I expected more of you.“ Arya looked up and saw the Shade before her with a mockingly disappointed expression. She bolted to her feet and struck out at his face, only to be thrown against the wall as if she were no more than a child. Stars and lights exploded across her eyes even as she charged him again, refusing to be led like a lamb to slaughter. She fought tooth and nail until he succeeded in pinning her and the whip slammed into her already mutilated back, and the cycle of torture started anew.

And then she was running, sprinting across the elvish capitol, heart pounding in her ears and a knot of terror in her stomach. Everything was wrong, everything was burning. Smoke filled her lungs as she dashed blindly in a direction that, for some inexplicable reason, promised safety.

A bullet suddenly hissed by her ear, cutting through the raindrops with a high-pitched song, then another shot clean through the muscle of her side with a spray of blood. She gasped and stumbled, then spat out the raindrops she had inhaled, coughing as the taste of copper joined the musky flavor of pine smoke. She yanked on her combat jacket, dulling the pain of the raindrops pounding into her skin, and hoped that the woven spider silk plates in the fabric would protect her from any more stray projectiles. 'Where are they coming from? They can’t have gotten here, not in Ellesméra!’

The fire was simply…gone when she slammed into his door, breath coming in quick, painful gasps. The rain still poured down unabated, an explosion renting the night as a cannonbomb detonated behind her and sprayed her wounds with mud. Arya pressed her forehead to the familiar surface and pounded on the door with the pommel of her sword as the ground shook. "Glen!”

There was no answer.

A flash of light to the left made her whip around, looking for the gun from which the muzzle flash had originated, only to feel a blade sink into her stomach.

White hot knives sliced twin, cauterized slits below each one of her ribs. The muscles of her abdomen flexed as she instinctively tried to pull her arms and legs from where they were cuffed to the wall in an attempt to protect her sides and stomach. Durza smiled at her movements, tracing the outline of the toned muscle beneath her tan skin with a finger as he caught her eyes with his. Disgust welled up in her chest, and if she had been able to spit at him she would have. Being without water for two days straight had left her barely able to swallow.

He saw her expression, though, and his smile widened. He leaned forward and pressed his ice-cold forehead to her fevered one, his sharpened teeth glinting in the light cast by the glowing daggers. A bit of horror touched Arya’s heart as she feared the worst. She couldn’t fend off the advances of a Shade, not in the state she was in.

Then she threw back her head and screamed in pain and Durza laughed in glee as the daggers buried themselves halfway to their hilts between her ribs.

The shock sent Arya staggering back to hit the door again. “Glenwing, let me in!” She shouted, kicking the door with her bare heel. “Glen!”

She smelled hot cinnamon mints and burning batteries all interlaced with the pungent scent of motor oil.

And then she realized she could taste them too, and with a jolt she felt a mouth over hers and a weight on her hips and her eyes flared open and she saw him above her. He pulled back and smirked as he wrenched her head to the side by her hair and she immediately coughed up water and blood and bile. “Welcome back to the land of the living, little elf. You need not worry about dying on my watch. Even in the void, you will never escape me.” And he laughed.

Arya let out a choked sob and slid to the ground, her body alight with pain from wounds that should have been nerveless scars and terror that she had never wanted to feel again. “Glen, please…” She leaned against the door, hugging her knees, and beat her head against the wood, trying to chase out the demons in her skull. “Please, I can't–”

There was so much blood. She didn’t even know where he had hit her this time. He had screwed with her perception of pain again, amplifying it until the barest ghost of air on her cheek felt like a hot iron smashing into her face, and set about whipping her with a short bullwhip studded with bits of barbed wire. She had given up on holding in her screams after the first hour and a half. After the fourth she had given up on screaming entirely, her body too weak and her throat too torn to produce sound. And still he cut her and whipped her and kicked her and strangled her, not even asking questions, only seeking to sate the spirits raged within his body.

Then it was black and she tasted the hot cinnamon again, the flavor reminding her of the mints Jörmundur had tried using to curb his smoking after his son was born, and the overwhelming smell of motor oil pervaded her senses. He wasn’t on top of her this time, and she immediately rolled over and dry heaved, spitting and gasping and trying to rid her mouth of the tastes that she now associated with death.

She felt something hot sheeting down the side of her face, hotter than the rain that pounded down inches away. “I can’t…” She whimpered, weakly raising her sword again and knocked the hilt against the door. Pain blossomed on the side of her head, adding the new sensation to the avalanche of agony that was crashing through her battered and bloody body. “I can’t keep…”

A hand grabbed her bruised side– spat blood into his eyes– guard screamed in agony as she slammed her combat boot between his naked legs with a spray of blood– couldn’t hear, couldn’t see, couldn’t taste or smell, it was all silence and nothing– acid sizzled in the trenches of her torn flesh, smelling like cooking meat– knife diving into her stomach over and over, the wounds healing shut after seconds as he methodically stabbed her, grinning like a child at play– pain like that shouldn’t exist– claw shaped iron dipped down– blood, all that blood– his lips on hers as he breathed life into her body again and again to introduce her to new, unimaginable levels of pain–

Arya threw her head back and screamed into the roaring thunder, “Dear spirits, just let me DIE!”

[duhragonball]

Cult Classic

I had a really exhausting week, so I’m going to try to chill out by writing this thing about cults that’s been bouncing around in my head since... oh, like January 6th?   For some reason?     But it’s also about my insanely long OC fanfic slash vanity project slash concept album.  Join me, won’t you?

Okay, so back in... geez 2018?   Has it been that long?   Around October 2018 I started working out the details for the big climax of the “1000 years ago” section of my fanfic.  From the start I had this idea that the Legendary Super Saiyan would be locked into a death struggle with pretty much the entire Saiyan population, led by a Saiyan King who just can’t handle being upstaged.   But I had to figure out a lot of details to make that actually work.   What I finally ended up with was the Jindan Cult. 

Why a cult?  Because I wanted my King character to be the main villain, but also be physically weaker, but also he needed to be powerful enough to challenge the heroine. I came up with all these different ways to beef up his power level without making him a Super Saiyan himself, but ultimately I wanted him to have an army of Siayans at his back.   That led me to consider some sort of magic elixir that would make them all stronger, but especially the king, since he’s ultimately in this for himself.  At first, I considered having him mind-control all of his goons, but I spent the mind control nickel in earlier arcs, and I’ll have to use it again later, because Towa and Demigra use it.   Then I thought of drug addiction, which is sort of like mind control but not literal brainwashing or anything like that.  And that led me to the cult concept.  

One major inspiration for me was the real-life cult called “NXIVM”, which made the news back in 2018 when their leaders started getting arrested, including “Smallville” star Allison Mack.   Every time I read about it, it felt like something from a movie, but it was real.   I guess the celebrity angle made it more bizarre to me, because it’s sort of like “Hey, this isn’t just some group of randos; someone you’ve heard of is in this thing.”   Not that I ever paid much attention to “Smallville”, but you get the idea.  She didn’t just join NXIVM, she eventually became one of the top recruiters.   Some of the character arcs in my fic were my own attempt to understand how a person goes from Point A to Point B. 

The big plot hole, though, in my mind, was that I came up with this whole master plan for the bad guys, but it involved sending wave after wave of Saiyan cultists to die in pointless, unwinnable battles against Luffa.    I couldn’t have them win much, because if they beat her, they’d just kill her, and the story would be over.    It struck me as fishy that these Saiyans would sign up for a war where the casualty rate is 100%, but I tried to lampshade it as best I could.   “Yeah, all those other chumps couldn’t beat Luffa, but I’ll pull it off because I’m special!”   It still seemed a bit unlikely.  

But then 2020 happened, and I guess the main thing I learned from that year was that people will accept almost anything in order to believe a comfortable lie.  The joke I’ve seen on the internet is that we need to retire the expression “avoid it like the plague”, because it turns out a lot of people don’t actually avoid plagues very well at all.   The horrifying thing about COVID-19 is how easily people will accept the climbing death tolls.   “Oh, well this person was already in bad health, so they would have died eventually anyway.”   I don’t want to get too political here, but I’m pretty sure a lot of the anti-mask, coronavirus-is-a-hoax crowd are the same people who made up tall tales about “death panels” in Obamacare.    “They’re gonna euthanize your grandma!” they would say, but now they say your grandma is acceptable losses if it means reopening bars and restaurants.

Actually, I do mean to get political, because holy fuck, Qanon stormed the Capitol Building.    Look, if you don’t believe Joe Biden won the election, I don’t know what to tell you, except please get far away from me, right now.  If you’re not familiar with Qanon, a few years ago some guy on an image board posted a bunch of cryptic messages and claimed to be an important government figure who would know about important things.    People started “deciphering” his “clues” and when he stopped posting new ones they started inventing their own “clues” and interpreting them any way that suited them.    This led to an overarching narrative that Donald Trump was actually part of this massive sting operation to arrest hundreds, maybe thousands of left-wing politicians, celebrities, and whoever else.    Any day now, he was supposed to have Hilary Clinton arrested, and also JFK Junior would somehow show up and help him, even though he’s been dead for 22 years.  Every day, these Qanon guys would add on more bizarre lore to their “theories”, and every day none of their predictions would come true.  Then Trump lost the election, which put them in a bind, because their whole mythology is based on the idea of him saving the world as POTUS, and now he wasn’t even going to be POTUS for much longer.  

I’m pretty sure this had a lot to do with the lies about election fraud.    Trump himself refused to accept defeat, and his supporters didn’t want to accept it either, so they all told each other that it wasn’t real, and they believed each other so much that they dug in their heels.   But then they’d take this stuff to court and the judge would be like “Uh, what evidence do you have of mass voter fraud?” and they would just be like “lol nvm!”  I mean, if there was proof for any of this, why would they not want a judge to see it?   But for Qanon, it was more than just being sore losers.    They needed all their whackamaroo predictions to come true, and Trump losing re-election would upset the applecart.  

So then they started telling themselves that they could win this thing through the boring certification process.   I think it was like, December 14 when all the states had to certify their results.   So they held out hope that nothing was over until then.    Then they pinned their hopes on the Electoral College, and that there would be enough faithless electors to hand Trump the victory, in spite of the voters.   I found this one amusing, since I used to see tumblr suggesting the same thing back in 2016, when they were still trying to come up with ways for Bernie Sanders to win.  

Then they decided Mike Pence could fix everything, because on Jan 6, Congress would officially count the Electoral Votes and formally declare the winner, and Mike Pence would step in and overrule the whole thing, because the Vice-President oversees that process.    Except he just oversees it, he can’t legally change the outcome, especially on a whim.    And then the riot at the Capitol happened, and I’m pretty sure all these Qanon types thought it would mark the beginning of a nationwide uprising, with all seventy-odd million Trump voters going apeshit, but it... didn’t work out that way.  

Then they convinced themselves that everything was building to January 20, because the innauguration was actually a clever trap, and once Joe Biden took the oath of office, he could then be arrested for treason, so you see, they had to make it look like Trump lost the election, because it was the only way to fool Joe Biden into incriminating himself... or... something.   But Jan 20 came and went, so the latest fallback position I heard was that there’s a double-secret REAL inauguration day, and it’s in March, and the January 20 one isn’t legitimate, even though Trump was inaugurated on January 20, 2016, but whatever.    That, or the guy we see in the White House now is actually Trump disguised as Joe Biden, or a Joe Biden android or something.   

I think I sort of understood that Qanon is a cult, but I didn’t really put the pieces together until the events of January unfolded.    Pre-November, it just seemed like a conspiracy theory, without any real timetables or prophecies, like Flat Earth.    But once the end of the Trump Administration was in sight, it really started to look like all the doomsday cults I’ve heard about over the years.  The predicted events wind up failing to come true, and they invent new predictions to explain away the old ones.   It’s not about the veracity of the claims as much as the claims themselves.    People want to believe there’s this whole elaborate explanation for everything.    They wanted to believe that Trump was this hypercompetent superheroic messiah, because the alternative is to face the uncertain reality: that he had no idea what he was doing, and real people were going to suffer for it.  

I think I sort of worked that idea into my fictional cult, but I backed into it.   NXIVM was a sex cult, not a doomsday cult, or an elaborate conspiracy theory, so I was mostly fixated on all the depraved things the cult could do to its members.   But they all share the same lure: a belief system that promises to make everything fit. I’m not sure what the hook was for NXIVM, but Allison Mack didn’t go in thinking about how much fun sex trafficking would be.   That came later, after she was convinced that NXIVM had all the answers, and one of those answers involved sex crimes, apparently.   In the same vein, Qanon attempted to explain mass arrests and executions by claiming that Hilary Clinton eats babies or something.   “Well, I don’t want babies to get eaten, so I guess breaking into the Capitol building seems like a reasonable course of action.”  

Weighed against real life, a bunch of Saiyans accepting a 100% casualty rate doesn’t seem so outrageous.   It also helps that sometimes the leaders of these groups can buy into their own hype, and think they’re infallible when they’re really not.    This week, I started reading the Darth Plagueis novel again, and I’ve seen the Sith from Star Wars referred to as a cult, but I never gave it a lot of thought until I noticed that Plagueis buys into the whole Dark Side of the Force thing a little too hard.   At times, he’ll wax philosophical about how the Jedi are the real bad guys when you think about it, and he’s not just saying that to be manipulative.   He honestly believes that the Sith can save the galaxy from decline, which is stupid and hypocritical, because they’re the ones causing all the decline.    I always got the impression that Darth Sidious understood that it was all about accumulating power as an end unto itself, and any high-minded talk of necessary evil was just to keep the rubes in line.    Rise of Skywalker plays into that idea nicely.   He somehow survived Episode VI, but he let the Empire collapse, because if he can’t rule it, he doesn’t want it to exist at all.   But he’s still playing himself, because he thinks he can win by following the same failed ideology that got all the previous Sith Lords killed.   

That’s pretty much all I have to say about it right now.    I need to move on to other topics, because Towa’s not doing a cult thing, so my fic is moving in a different direction.   But I feel better for getting this out of my head.

[weirdponytail]

Modern Inheritance: Night Terrors, Pt. 1

WARNING: This story deals with torture flashbacks, several of which are specifically dealing with waterboarding. If these scenes would cause any problems for you, please do not read. I am only basing my portrayal of PTSD on internet research and very little first hand knowledge.

Here it is folks. The two shot that started the current MIC iteration. This was one of my first stories for Modern Inheritance (written in 2016 iirc). As such, it’s not totally in line with the image I have for the series and characters now (Late 2020), but it is a solid baseline and actually pretty damn close. At some point I may rewrite it, but for now, I’m happy with this reminder of changes.)

PART 1 // Part 2 

~~~

Arya never really slept well.

True, her sleep got a bit better once they had arrived at Ellesméra, something she was incredibly thankful for, but being able to sleep through every other night without nightmares or a heart pounding night terror ripping her from her waking dreams was still not good enough to be considered 'sleeping well.' If it weren't for those blessed nights of uninterrupted slumber the elf was sure she would be a walking wreck.

So far she had managed to avoid waking anyone else. Islanzadí, surprisingly enough, would occasionally check on her daughter in the middle of the night, and on nights where she found her sitting at the balcony staring at the stars, the queen would join her in silent companionship. It was a sign their relationship was mending, and if Arya was still stuck, mute and fearful, in her dreams, the slender arm that wrapped around her shoulders and soft humming would pull the younger elf from the darker recesses of her mind.

Something about tonight was different, though. As Arya slipped under the comforter on her bed– having finally gotten used to sleeping in it after two weeks of sleeping on a progressively thicker pile of sleeping bags on the floor– she felt a tingle of distant static dart across the pads of her fingers. When she glanced out the doors to the balcony, a far off thunderhead appeared as a purple smear against the orange and pink sunset. Lightning flickered through the cloud, seeming to rent it from corner to corner before it again returned to the color of bruised skin.

'Good. We haven't had rain in some time.' The elf thought as she turned on her side and closed her eyes. She tugged the corner of the comforter under her chin and drifted off into her waking dreams, hoping the sway of the tree would lull her into a peaceful sleep.

~

Arya's waking dreams stuttered. Something had changed in her surroundings, something she couldn't quite put her finger on until she realized she couldn't breathe.

Everything felt heavy and damp, especially around her face and definitely over her mouth and nose. It was pitch black and something was clamped over her eyes, shoving her head back against a hard, flat surface. She couldn't move, no matter how much she internally screamed at her muscles to do so, and with a terrifying jolt she realized she couldn't breathe either. Warm water gushed into her mouth and flooded her sinuses, panic filling her chest as quickly as the liquid did.

"We can end this here and now, elf." A cold voice whispered in her ear, and the fall of water against her face halted. The hand over Arya's eyes lifted and bright light flared across her lids as a sodden cloth was removed. The demon beside the woman let her cough and choke, trying to expel the water in her lungs but unable to while he still pushed her head back with a hand on her clammy forehead. "What say you, hm? A few words are all I want. Speak them to me, and you will be released from this." He knew she wouldn't be able to respond, not verbally at least, but that was part of his game. He knew she would never speak.

Using the little leeway he gave her, Arya managed to scowl, spitting water from between her teeth, and shake her head a few millimeters from side to side. Durza sighed mockingly and slapped the wet cloth back down over her face. 

“Oh well. Ready to die again, little elf?"

Lightning flashed across Arya's eyes as she fell from the bed and hit the floor hard, a strangled cry escaping her throat. She scrambled to kick the tangled blanket off of her legs and dove for her pack to rip her sword from where it was tied to the frame.

A clap of thunder rang out as she pulled the blade free just in time to feel her back flare white hot with agony, lines of fire tracing wounds she knew had been healed. It had been weeks since they closed, hadn't it? Hadn't it?!

A fist slammed into her side, cracking a rib and sending her to the floor again, sword still clamped in a white knuckled grip.

'Get dressed. Get out of here. Fight.' The thought was barely registered as Arya scrambled for the combat pants she wore while with the Varden, another line of pain lancing its way up her right arm. For a brief moment, as she struggled to yank the pants on without giving up her sword, she swore she saw blood dripping from her fingers, trailing from a deep gash that revealed the bones and tendons flexing in her forearm.

She dropped her blade for a split second to yank on a standard issue cotton shirt and then snatched the weapon up again. She tore her pistol belt and combat jacket out of her pack, quickly patting the pockets to make sure the pressure bandage and small medkit were still there, and slung both over her arm. Thunder crashed again, followed by a clap of lightning nearby.

Another blow clipped the elf's shoulder as she dashed for the balcony, nearly shoving her out the open doors before she caught herself on the jamb.

It was raining. Wet spray splashed up into Arya's face and she recoiled, feeling her throat tighten and her already rapid heartbeat increase. She couldn't breathe. He chuckled coldly and pushed her off the table with his boot, watching her vomit up water and what little food remained in her stomach as she convulsed on the floor. All that water and yet it still felt as if her lungs were on fire.

Arya could feel another strike coming, another slash from a whip arcing through the damp air. It was either continue facing her invisible attackers or brave the water.

With a savage growl the elf bounded through the doorway and out into the elements, leaping from the balcony to the tier below, the tier below that one, and finally to the ground. She straightened from the crouch she had landed in, then staggered as the raindrops slammed into her back and sent fresh shocks of pain across her skin. The raw wounds– 'How are they open again!'– and exposed nerves registered each and every drop of water as a lightning bolt that seared its way to her brain.

"Giving up so soon? I expected more of you." Arya looked up and saw the Shade before her with a mockingly disappointed expression. She bolted to her feet and struck out at his face, only to be thrown against the wall as if she were no more than a child. Stars and lights exploded across her eyes even as she charged him again, refusing to be led like a lamb to slaughter. She fought tooth and nail until he succeeded in pinning her and the whip slammed into her already mutilated back, and the cycle of torture started anew.

And then she was running, sprinting across the elvish capitol, heart pounding in her ears and a knot of terror in her stomach. Everything was wrong, everything was burning. Smoke filled her lungs as she dashed blindly in a direction that, for some inexplicable reason, promised safety.

A bullet suddenly hissed by her ear, cutting through the raindrops with a high-pitched song, then another shot clean through the muscle of her side with a spray of blood. She gasped and stumbled, then spat out the raindrops she had inhaled, coughing as the taste of copper joined the musky flavor of pine smoke. She yanked on her combat jacket, dulling the pain of the raindrops pounding into her skin, and hoped that the woven spider silk plates in the fabric would protect her from any more stray projectiles. 'Where are they coming from? They can’t have gotten here, not in Ellesméra!'

The fire was simply…gone when she slammed into his door, breath coming in quick, painful gasps. The rain still poured down unabated, an explosion renting the night as a cannonbomb detonated behind her and sprayed her wounds with mud. Arya pressed her forehead to the familiar surface and pounded on the door with the pommel of her sword as the ground shook. "Glen!"

There was no answer.

A flash of light to the left made her whip around, looking for the gun from which the muzzle flash had originated, only to feel a blade sink into her stomach.

White hot knives sliced twin, cauterized slits below each one of her ribs. The muscles of her abdomen flexed as she instinctively tried to pull her arms and legs from where they were cuffed to the wall in an attempt to protect her sides and stomach. Durza smiled at her movements, tracing the outline of the toned muscle beneath her tan skin with a finger as he caught her eyes with his. Disgust welled up in her chest, and if she had been able to spit at him she would have. Being without water for two days straight had left her barely able to swallow.

He saw her expression, though, and his smile widened. He leaned forward and pressed his ice-cold forehead to her fevered one, his sharpened teeth glinting in the light cast by the glowing daggers. A bit of horror touched Arya's heart as she feared the worst. She couldn't fend off the advances of a Shade, not in the state she was in.

Then she threw back her head and screamed in pain and Durza laughed in glee as the daggers buried themselves halfway to their hilts between her ribs.

The shock sent Arya staggering back to hit the door again. "Glenwing, let me in!" She shouted, kicking the door with her bare heel. "Glen!"

She smelled hot cinnamon mints and burning batteries all interlaced with the pungent scent of motor oil.

And then she realized she could taste them too, and with a jolt she felt a mouth over hers and a weight on her hips and her eyes flared open and she saw him above her. He pulled back and smirked as he wrenched her head to the side by her hair and she immediately coughed up water and blood and bile. "Welcome back to the land of the living, little elf. You need not worry about dying on my watch. Even in the void, you will never escape me." And he laughed.

Arya let out a choked sob and slid to the ground, her body alight with pain from wounds that should have been nerveless scars and terror that she had never wanted to feel again. "Glen, please…" She leaned against the door, hugging her knees, and beat her head against the wood, trying to chase out the demons in her skull. "Please, I can't–"

There was so much blood. She didn't even know where he had hit her this time. He had screwed with her perception of pain again, amplifying it until the barest ghost of air on her cheek felt like a hot iron smashing into her face, and set about whipping her with a short bullwhip studded with bits of barbed wire. She had given up on holding in her screams after the first hour and a half. After the fourth she had given up on screaming entirely, her body too weak and her throat too torn to produce sound. And still he cut her and whipped her and kicked her and strangled her, not even asking questions, only seeking to sate the spirits raged within his body.

Then it was black and she tasted the hot cinnamon again, the flavor reminding her of the mints Jörmundur had tried using to curb his smoking after his son was born, and the overwhelming smell of motor oil pervaded her senses. He wasn't on top of her this time, and she immediately rolled over and dry heaved, spitting and gasping and trying to rid her mouth of the tastes that she now associated with death.

She felt something hot sheeting down the side of her face, hotter than the rain that pounded down inches away. "I can't..." She whimpered, weakly raising her sword again and knocked the hilt against the door. Pain blossomed on the side of her head, adding the new sensation to the avalanche of agony that was crashing through her battered and bloody body. "I can't keep…"

A hand grabbed her bruised side– spat blood into his eyes– guard screamed in agony as she slammed her combat boot between his naked legs with a spray of blood– couldn't hear, couldn't see, couldn't taste or smell, it was all silence and nothing– acid sizzled in the trenches of her torn flesh, smelling like cooking meat– knife diving into her stomach over and over, the wounds healing shut after seconds as he methodically stabbed her, grinning like a child at play– pain like that shouldn't exist– claw shaped iron dipped down– blood, all that blood– his lips on hers as he breathed life into her body again and again to introduce her to new, unimaginable levels of pain–

Arya threw her head back and screamed into the roaring thunder, "Dear spirits, just let me DIE!"

[newstfionline]

Sunday, November 8, 2020

Biden wins White House, vowing new direction for divided US (AP) Democrat Joe Biden defeated President Donald Trump to become the 46th president of the United States on Saturday, positioning himself to lead a nation gripped by a historic pandemic and a confluence of economic and social turmoil. His victory came after more than three days of uncertainty as election officials sorted through a surge of mail-in votes that delayed the processing of some ballots. Biden crossed 270 Electoral College votes with a win in Pennsylvania. Trump refused to concede, threatening further legal action on ballot counting. Biden, 77, staked his candidacy less on any distinctive political ideology than on galvanizing a broad coalition of voters around the notion that Trump posed an existential threat to American democracy. Biden, in a statement, said he was humbled by the victory and it was time for the battered nation to set aside its differences. “It’s time for America to unite. And to heal,” he said. Kamala Harris also made history as the first Black woman to become vice president, an achievement that comes as the U.S. faces a reckoning on racial justice. The California senator, who is also the first person of South Asian descent elected to the vice presidency, will become the highest-ranking woman ever to serve in government. Trump is the first incumbent president to lose reelection since Republican George H. W. Bush in 1992. Americans showed deep interest in the presidential race. A record 103 million voted early this year, opting to avoid waiting in long lines at polling locations during a pandemic. With counting continuing in some states, Biden had already received more than 74 million votes, more than any presidential candidate before him.

Elation and Anger: Catharsis in the streets as election ends (AP) As soon as the news buzzed on their phones, Americans gathered spontaneously on street corners and front lawns—honking their horns, banging pots and pans, starting impromptu dance parties—as an agonizingly vitriolic election and exhausting four-day wait for results came to an end Saturday morning. And for all that joy, there was equal parts sorrow, anger and mistrust on the other side. Across the United States, the dramatic conclusion of the 2020 election was cathartic. Just after The Associated Press and other news organizations declared that former Vice President Joe Biden beat President Donald Trump, fireworks erupted in Atlanta. In Maine, a band playing at a farmers’ market broke into the Battle Hymn of the Republic. In Manhattan, they danced in the streets, banged cowbells and honked their car horns. In Louisville, Kentucky, Biden supporters gathered on their lawns to toast with champagne. But Trump’s supporters, far from jubilant, were angry, defiant and mistrustful of the news. But for many Saturday, it was a relief to Biden’s supporters to celebrate victory, put bitter partisanship aside and dance in the streets, if only for one afternoon.

Trump supporters refuse to accept defeat (AP) Chanting “This isn’t over!" and “Stop the steal,” supporters of President Donald Trump protested at state capitols across the country Saturday, refusing to accept defeat and echoing Trump’s unsubstantiated allegations that the Democrats won by fraud. From Atlanta and Tallahassee to Austin, Bismarck, Boise and Phoenix, crowds ranging in size from a few dozen to a few thousand—some of them openly carrying guns—decried the news of Joe Biden's victory after more than three suspense-filled days of vote-counting put the Democrat over the top. Skirmishes broke out in some cities. In Atlanta, outside the state Capitol in the longtime Republican stronghold of Georgia, chants of “Lock him up!” rang out among an estimated 1,000 Trump supporters. Others chanted, “This isn’t over! This isn’t over!” and “Fake news!” Contrary to the claims of Trump supporters, there has been no evidence of any serious vote fraud. The utter rejection of Biden as the legitimate president by Trump and his supporters appears to represent something new in American political history, said Barbara Perry, presidential studies director at the University of Virginia's Miller Center. “We typically haven’t had a leader who loses the presidency who then tells his followers, ‘This is false. This has been stolen from us,'” Perry said. "Incumbent presidents have been mad, so mad they didn’t go to the inauguration, but not like this, where they are leading those people to say this is fraudulent.”

Nations long targeted by US chide Trump’s claims of fraud (AP) Demands to stop the vote count. Baseless accusations of fraud. Claims that the opposition is trying to “steal” the election. Across the world, many were scratching their heads Friday—especially in countries that have long been advised by Washington on how to run elections—wondering if those assertions could truly be coming from the president of the United States, the nation considered one of the world’s most emblematic democracies. “Who’s the banana republic now?” Colombian daily newspaper Publimetro chided on the front page with a photo of a man in a U.S. flag print mask. The irony of seeing U.S. Donald Trump cut off by major media networks Thursday as he launched unsubstantiated claims lambasting the U.S. electoral system was not lost on many. The U.S. has long been a vocal critic of strongman tactics around the world. Now, some of those same targets are turning around the finger. Along with the mockery comes dismay. Many people in Africa see the U.S. as a bellwether for democracy and, after troubled votes in Tanzania and Ivory Coast in recent days, they looked to what Washington might say. “We are asking ourselves, why is the U.S. democratic process appearing so fragile when it is meant to be held up to us in the rest of the world as a beacon of perfect democracy?” said Samir Kiango, a Tanzanian out in his country’s commercial capital Friday.

Second Mexican state to enter highest coronavirus alert level (Reuters) A second Mexican state will from next week enter the highest level of coronavirus alert as authorities bid to contain a recent jump in infections in the north of the country, the health ministry said on Friday. The northern state of Durango will as of Monday join Chihuahua, a neighboring region on the U.S. border, in the red alert phase following an increase in hospitalizations. Most of Mexico’s 32 regional governments are currently at the lower orange or yellow alert levels.

Guatemalan mudslides push storm Eta’s death toll near 150 (Reuters) The death toll from torrential downpours unleashed by storm Eta leapt on Friday as Guatemalan soldiers reached a mountain village where around 100 people were killed by a landslide, adding to dozens of other dead in Central America and Mexico. Many of those who lost their lives in the village of Queja in the central Guatemalan region of Alta Verapaz were buried in their homes after mudslides swallowed around 150 houses, army spokesman Ruben Tellez said. The devastating weather front brought destruction from Panama to Honduras and Mexico, which between them have registered more than 50 flood-related deaths.

Evo Morales to return from exile to Bolivia in 800-vehicle convoy (Guardian) Bolivia’s exiled former president, Evo Morales, is set to make a triumphant homecoming next week, leading an 800-vehicle convoy to the jungle-clad coca-growing region where he began his political career. The Bolivian newspaper Página Siete reported that Morales would cross from Argentina into the southern border town of Villazón on Monday morning before heading 600 miles north to the province of Chapare. Bolivia’s first indigenous president, who was driven into exile last November in what supporters called a US-backed coup, plans to arrive in the town of Chimoré on Tuesday, exactly a year after fleeing the same location on a Mexican airforce jet. The return of Bolivia’s first indigenous president comes after his Movement for Socialism (Mas) reclaimed the presidency last month when Morales’ former finance minister, Luis Arce, won a landslide election victory.

Trump berated and baffled European allies. They aren’t sad to see him go. (Washington Post) President Donald Trump called Europe a “foe.” He said the continent’s cities were migrant-ridden, dangerous “no-go zones.” He threw leaders into a panic with threats to withdraw from NATO. And as Europeans watched the United States elect Joe Biden as its next president, many embraced his promises to respect long-standing alliances and regain the world’s trust in his country. Few Europeans expect Inauguration Day to repair all the damage—the close election suggests Trumpism will endure in some capacity, and the divergence of U.S. and European interests is part of a long-term trend. But policymakers here say they will be glad for summits without Trump there to dominate the agenda. Trump spent four years dismantling U.S. policies that many Europeans consider key to their security interests. Sometimes, policymakers here felt, he made decisions specifically because he knew it would infuriate them. They were shattered when he pulled the United States out of the Paris climate accords. They have spent years holding together the Iran nuclear deal, which has been faltering ever since he denounced it and slapped new sanctions on Tehran. They have been exasperated by his admiration for authoritarian leaders and his distaste for them. Trump is not universally disliked in Europe. His 2016 election gave a jolt of energy to the continent’s populists. The right-wing leaders of Poland and Hungary—who have been sanctioned by the European Union for dismantling courts and undermining their opponents—get along well with him. But most leaders here will be glad to see Trump’s back and eager to trade him in for a more conventional counterpart.

Europe’s Hospital Crunch Grows More Dire, Surpassing Spring Peak (NYT) More Europeans are seriously ill with the coronavirus than ever before, new hospital data for 21 countries shows, surpassing the worst days in the spring and threatening to overwhelm stretched hospitals and exhausted medical workers. New lockdowns have not yet stemmed the current influx of patients, which has only accelerated since it began growing in September, according to official counts of current patients collected by The New York Times. More than twice as many people in Europe are hospitalized with Covid-19 as in the United States, adjusted for population. In the Czech Republic, the worst-hit nation in recent weeks, one in 1,300 people is currently hospitalized with Covid-19. And in Belgium, France, Italy and other countries in Western Europe, a new swell of patients has packed hospitals to levels last seen in March and April. Countries across Europe are scrambling to find solutions. Swiss authorities approved deploying up to 2,500 military personnel to help hospitals handle rising infections in the country, while others like France have postponed non-emergency surgeries. And in Belgium, staff shortages have led some hospitals to ask doctors and nurses who have tested positive for the virus but who don’t have symptoms to keep working.

Books? Hairdressers? Europeans split on lockdown essentials (AP) In times when a pandemic unleashes death and poverty, the concept of what is essential to keep society functioning in a lockdown is gripping Europe. Beyond the obvious—food stores and pharmacies—some answers in the patchwork of nations and cultures that make up Europe can approach the surreal. What is allowed on one side of a border can be banned just a brief stroll down the road, on the other. German Chancellor Angela Merkel said that while it might seem fairest to just shut everything down, “it’s perhaps not the most practical” solution. That’s why Germany is keeping car dealerships open this time, after their closure in the first, spring lockdown hurt the country’s huge automobile industry. In Belgium, of course, chocolate shops are staying open. “Chocolate is very much an essential food around here,” said chocolatier Marleen Van Volsem at the Praleen chocolaterie south of Brussels. “It has to be. Because chocolate makes you happy.” In Italy, the country that coined the term “bella figura”—the art of cutting a fine figure—hairdressers are deemed essential. “Italians really care about their image and about wellness,”″ said Charity Cheah, the Milan-based co-founder of TONI&GUY Italy. “Perhaps psychologically, the government may feel that going to a salon is a moment of release from stress and tension, a moment of self-care, that citizens need.”

Nagorno-Karabakh says its two largest cities under fierce attack (Reuters) Three residents of Nagorno-Karabakh’s largest city were killed during overnight shelling by Azeri forces, the enclave’s ethnic Armenian-controlled Emergency and Rescue Service said on Friday, as the battle for control of its major settlements intensified. Two independent observers said fighting appeared to be moving deeper into the enclave, with Azeri troops stepping up attacks on its biggest two cities. At least 1,000 people—and possibly many more—have died in nearly six weeks of fighting in and around Nagorno-Karabakh, a mountainous enclave internationally recognised as part of Azerbaijan but populated and controlled by ethnic Armenians. Azerbaijan’s defence ministry said allegations that it had shelled civilian areas were “misinformation”. It has previously accused Armenian-controlled forces of shelling cities under its control, including Terter and Barda, as well as Ganja, the second-largest city in Azerbaijan. Dozens were killed in those attacks.

Ethiopian air strikes in Tigray will continue, says PM, as civil war risk grows (Reuters) Ethiopian jets bombed the Tigray region on Friday and Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed pledged more air strikes in the escalating conflict amid reports that Tigrayan forces had seized control of federal military sites and weapons. Civilians in the northern region should avoid “collateral damage” by not gathering outside as strikes would continue, Abiy said in a televised speech on Friday evening, defying international pleas for both sides to show restraint. The developments illustrate how quickly the days-old conflict is escalating, raising the threat of a civil war that experts and diplomats warn would destabilise the country of 110 million people and hurt the broader Horn of Africa.

Unemployed man finds new job by posting huge resume on truck (Fox News) It’s a full-time job to look for a job, but one man refused to let opportunity drive by, and found work after posting his resume on the back of a truck. James Pemblington of Nottinghamshire, England, was out of work in March when the theme park where he worked was forced to cut employees due to the coronavirus pandemic. The Annesley man applied for about 100 jobs and went on two interviews, but the opportunities ultimately, unfortunately, fell through. The determined dad kept striving, sending companies “edible” versions of his resume—i.e. packages of brownies featuring a QR code that linked to his website. No employers ate up the gimmick, but Pemblington’s luck changed when he won a contest to have his resume displayed on the back of an 18-ton truck. Two days after his CV hit the road, he was offered a new position by an employer who reportedly spotted his credentials while sitting in traffic.

[graciecatfamilyband]

No Memories But These

A/N: Just in time for @ouad-week, part 1 of your classic “Dmitry leaves Paris without uniting with Anya” AU. Dmitry is back in Paris again and it’s harder than he had hoped it would be. 

I would love to post one or two more (much) small(er and even less well edited) fic(let)s in this ‘verse this week, but I am at the mercy of physical forces beyond my control.   

The rusted key turned in the latch and the wooden door clicked open. Dmitry placed his suitcase—the same one he’d left Paris with the first time—in the doorway as he examined his new flat. It was one room, as expected. The walls were bare but clean. The floor could do with a sweeping. There was a table and a chair. And a real bathtub—so what if it was in the kitchen? No mold either. Not a complete shithole.

Dmitry crossed the room. The bed didn’t even hit the opposite wall when he pulled it down; he’d lived in smaller. The thinness of the mattress wouldn’t matter so much if he could get an extra blanket or two to put atop it. He could afford such extravagances these days.

To the right of the bed, a thirteen-by-thirteen centimeter window looked out onto bricks. Orange light slanted across the wall in spite of the closeness of the building next door and in apparent defiance of the laws of physics. Dmitry noted there was no shade. Another window—more of a grate with glass, really—still small by most standards, but the clear highlight of this room—opened at the ceiling. He guessed that, if he laid down and propped himself up, he would have a perfect view of the fading sunlight as it glinted off the gold cross rising from the Nevsky Cathedral. There’s certainly a sky tonight. Dmitry knew he should appreciate that, but somehow it made him ache.

The spareness of the room, though—that suited him. It was a relief from the whirlwind that was Paris. The boulangeries, cafes, galleries, street traffic, river traffic, and the spring blossoms had all crowded Dmitry as he’d made his way from the train station. The gas streetlights had come on at sunset to turn the city warm and fuzzy. It was entirely too much like it had been three years ago. It may have been to his taste then, but it wasn’t anymore.

Dmitry hauled his suitcase onto the bed and opened it. He was done aching. He had plenty to think about that wasn’t her. He started moving clothes into the small set of drawers in the corner. His two suits—he had two now!—needed ironing. He’d have to find a way to hang them up, too. A professional image was more important to maintain now than ever. (A bourgeois image, his father might have said, probably with some regret. But what was Dmitry supposed to do? For all its flaws, he liked his job. And it beat petty crime by a long shot.)

Yes, he had plenty of other things to think about, he reminded himself as he put his toothbrush by the kitchen sink. There was an ironing board by the bathtub, but where was an iron? He’d have to scrounge up some dinner as well. His coworkers had gone out for the evening—celebrating their new town and new raises—but he didn’t like to spend money he didn’t have yet.

It had been three years. He should be over it by now. He’d actually come out quite well from the whole thing. Not immediately richer, unless you count the first suit, but out of Russia—and no arrests. He’d landed this job, or rather, the job that got him this job. Worked his way up to something. He’d kept getting lucky; he’d made his own luck. He should be happy. And he had been happy, he’d told himself. Until this transfer.

When Melyukov had informed him the Russian Emigrant Children’s Association was moving its headquarters from Strasbourg to Paris, Dmitry had tried to refuse, to stay at the smaller branch they would be leaving behind. His boss had waived his objections away: “This little town is too small for you, Dmitry. You have a big city energy.” How could he tell Melyukov that if he’d wanted to be in Paris, he’d have been in Paris?

“We can do great things there!” Melyukov had assured him. "Much bigger than we can do here.”

And that’s how Melyukov had got him. Dmitry’s proposal. He knew it was good, and he knew his boss was right—as long as they were in Strasbourg, they wouldn’t have the infrastructure, human capitol, or opportunity for financial support to pull it off. If he wanted his plan to see the light of day, Paris was the answer. And if he wanted it to be done right, he had to go there with it. Damn.

And so against his better judgment, Dmitry had gritted his teeth and talked himself into the transfer. Paris was a city of almost three million people. It wasn’t like he moved in the same social circles she did. It would be a place like any other; all he had to do was focus on work and to keep his head down.

But the street car ride to the edge of the eighth arrondissement had proved that, for him, the city was still steeped in her. Dmitry didn’t want to remember walking down the Champs-Elysées with Anya on his arm. He didn’t want to remember wearing a suit for the first time in his life, Vlad scolding him for pulling at the collar that was closing around his throat, as they stood outside Chanel waiting for Anya. He especially didn’t want to remember Anya finally emerging in white or the way the dress gently hugged her figure and the fabric rustled at her knees. “Well?” she’d asked him. “Not bad,” he’d said—what an idiot he’d been.

In their new clothes, people smiled at them. Everyone assumed they belonged there and belonged with each other. Anya moved as if she had been born in that outfit and worn it her whole life. Restricted and fumbling as he felt, Dmitry didn’t care. He’d never seen such freedom as Paris. A stiff collar beat armed guards at every corner any day of the week.

And the bookstores! A person could just walk in and find anything. Dmitry had made Anya go into every one that passed that first day. No, not made—he’d simply asked, and she’d laughed and said, “Again?” But in a way that felt like she was laughing with him.

She hadn’t complained as he riffled through the shelves of yet another politique section, holding up titles for her to translate with her bafflingly fluent French. There were texts on Marxism, Capitalism, Anarchism, Liberalism, Conservatism, women’s suffrage, the labor movement, and so on. In Petersburg, just holding some of the books would be enough to get a person disappeared to a camp; selling them would get you shot on the spot. His father would have loved the bookstore, though Dmitry was sure he would have had plenty to say about the French government too. Nor had Anya commented when he had finally declared he was purchasing The Conquest of Bread in a language he didn’t speak, let alone read. She had simply touched his shoulder in a way that made him think she understood. Who could understand better than her?  

She’d been so free with her affection in those heady days: looping her elbow around his, squeezing his arm to get his attention or to silently signal her opinion, laughing against him. The line between them had felt so thin as they took in the Arc de Triomphe, the Tour Eiffel, endless jazz—which he’d liked—and even more paintings—which he hadn’t, except for the lilies. Seeing Paris, and seeing her seeing Paris.

At night, they’d gone dancing. Anya had arrived at and left the club with him, but it had seemed every man wanted to dance with her. Dmitry hadn’t pressed his claim; she could choose to dance with whoever she wanted. He had plenty of options himself. Still, all that practicing, and he hadn’t even gotten to dance with her. His dancing was bad anyway—he’d improved though. She’d improved him.

And finally, of course, there was the ballet. Anya—Anastasia, in that blue dress. Straightening his tie. Her left arm in his right, her free hand coming back to his bicep again and again. The way she had allowed him to slide his hand into hers after she had made confetti out of her playbill, and how tightly she had held on.

And then—Anastasia's hand on his chest, pushing him away from her. Accusing him of all the things he’d actually done. Telling him she hated him. He’d deserved it.

The last time he’d seen her, through the doorway of the hotel room, she had been home. Finally. That should be enough for him. But knowing that she hated him left him raw. He never wanted to see another ballet again as long as he lived.

[wiseabsol]

WA Reviews “Dominion” by Aurelia le, Chapter 12: The Seal

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6383825/12/Dominion

Summary: For the Fire Nation royal siblings, love has always warred with hate. But neither the outward accomplishment of peace nor Azula’s defeat have brought the respite Zuko expected. Will his sister’s plans answer this, or only destroy them both?

Content Warnings: This story contains discussions and depictions of child abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse, and incest. This story also explores the idea that Zuko’s redemption arc (and his unlearning of abuse) is not as complete as the show suggested, and that Azula is not a sociopath (with the story having a lot of sympathy for her). If that doesn’t sound like your cup of tea, I would strongly recommend steering clear of this story and my reviews of it.  

Note: Because these were originally posted as chapter reviews/commentaries, I will often be talking to the author in them (though sometimes I will also snarkily address the characters). While I’ve also tried not to spoil later events in the story in these reviews, I would strongly recommend reading through chapter 28 before reading these, just to be safe.

Now on to chapter 12!

CHAPTER 12: THE SEAL

Alright, on to chapter twelve, “The Seal,” my favorite chapter of “Dominion!” This is going to be a much longer review than the others, so do be warned in advance.

 In regards to the author’s note, I do not envy the amount of research and posing you need to do to handle fight scenes in this story, but I admire how much work you put into it. I think the fight scenes really shine! The other points of discussion here are also interesting, namely regarding Iroh, who we’ll be seeing more interiority from as time goes on.

 Into the chapter itself! Oh lord, cricket wasps—I hate the insects in the ATLA world, I really do. So in this flashback, twelve-year-old Ty Lee has snuck over to Azula’s quarters and is watching her through the window, while hanging upside-down from a tree. God, I miss being young and able to climb trees like that with ease. But anyway, Azula is wearing one of her mom’s old robes during the hottest part of the summer, because symbolism and because Azula is sick as a dog. Ty Lee doesn’t know that yet, though.

 “Not at lessons, or meditating, or any of the other stuff Li and Lo said every time Ty Lee had tried to call on her in the past two weeks.”—This indicates that Li and Lo are aware of what is going on with Azula, and haven’t done anything to intervene on her behalf. Not that that would be easy, since Ozai is the Fire Lord, BUT—and this is key—in this continuity, they were Azulon’s concubines. Given that there hasn’t been mention of them having Azulon’s bastards in the main story (unlike with Iroh in “The Road”), this implies that Li and Lo had access to birth control. So they could have given some to Azula in the form of tea, or—since they haven’t revealed that they know what is going on to her—to Ozai to give to Azula. They would still be accomplices to Ozai’s abuse, but they could have done some damage control. They didn’t, though. Nor did Ozai. Maybe they all gambled on Azula being too young to conceive, which, A.) Is really gross, and B.) Is ignorant of them, since teenagers who grow up with good diets tend to have their first periods between ages 11-13. They should have taken more precautions. Or, you know, NOT forced Azula to have sex.

 I’m getting ahead of myself. Ty Lee is under the impression that Azula is trying to ghost her, and thinks something about Mai that I’m puzzled about: “Something about, they never said anything before—” I feel like this is about Zuko, somehow. Did he not say anything to Mai before he went into exile? I think it’s implied that they already had something going on before he left, given how quickly they got together after season two, but there might have also been a comic that went over how Azula got them together, and used their relationship to secure Zuko’s return home?

 “But those old ladies were Azula’s servants, right? So if they were lying to her, it was like Azula was lying to her….”—I think Ty Lee shows a touch of classism here, because she doesn’t consider the possibility that Lo and Li might be lying to her for their own reasons, or that they might be trying to drive a wedge between the girls. Heck, they might even think that Ty Lee is annoying and are just messing with her. She assumes that Lo and Li and Azula are all aligned, because she was taught that that’s what’s proper from servants—that they will align themselves with values of their employers and carry out their wishes. This might even be true in a healthy household, where everyone values each other and are pitching in to make their household a good one. But the Royal Family’s household isn’t healthy, and Lo and Li have more agency than Ty Lee gives them credit for.

 Also, it boggles my mind that Lo and Li, the concubines, are Azula’s servants. What in the world did the court think that they were teaching her? I can only assume it was things like cosmetics, fashion, and feminine arts like tea ceremonies, but goodness, weren’t there actual instructors for those, both in the capitol and at the Academy? Possibly Azula chased those teachers away, since Mai says in one chapter that Azula bullied their instructors at the Academy. But still, I can’t imagine no one raised an eyebrow at Lo and Li being assigned to Azula.

 “The other girls at the academy said Azula was a liar, even Mai did, but Ty Lee knew she didn’t lie about that. When Ty Lee was being annoying or childish or empty-headed, Azula told her so, she didn’t just invent excuses not to be around her. Mai said it was because Azula didn’t care what she thought. That was the only reason she was honest with Ty Lee. But Azula didn’t care what anyone thought except her dad, and she still lied to all of them….”

 We know that Azula lies and that she’s quite good at it, BUT I suspect that what was happening at the Academy was more a case of Azula being bluntly honest, and the people she was talking to not wanting to believe what she was saying. Also, with Ty Lee’s ability to read auras, she—unlike Toph—might be able to catch Azula in a lie, even if she can’t discern what the truth is based on her readings. So I think that Ty Lee has a better grasp on Azula than Mai does, while Mai is less likely to excuse Azula’s toxic actions out of sympathy for her.

 “She shouldn’t say goodbye to her friend while she was thinking all these unkind thoughts that probably—definitely—weren’t even true.”—She’s such a sweetheart. This is the chapter that swayed me to the Azula and Ty Lee ship.

 “Azula didn’t even know she was out here, Ty Lee realized. But she was practically impossible to sneak up on—“—Because she’s sick, Ty Lee. But also, it’s depressing that Azula is constantly on her guard.

 “Azula must not know Li and Lo turned her away, or she wouldn’t ask that.”—Told you, Ty Lee. They have their own agendas.

 Ty Lee discusses how Azula’s aura has appeared to her in the past, including this sad line: “Even forest green when she used to watch her mom with Zuko.” Azula has always been jealous of how close Ursa and Zuko were. I suspect that she wanted that closeness with both of them, especially her mom, but none of them knew how to connect with each other.

 “Her shadowed eyes were fever-bright, and only stood out more starkly for being lined with kohl.”—Azula, if there’s a day to not bother with make-up, it’s today. I know your little perfectionist heart won’t allow you to skip your routine, but if you’re spending your day vomiting and sweating, throw those cosmetics into the back of the drawer and don’t bother.

 “Ty Lee couldn’t remember the last time she saw Azula with her hair down….”—So no sleepovers lately, eh?

 It turns out that Ty Lee’s family are having her followed because they’ve made a match for her, and Ty Lee isn’t into it. Azula is similarly not into it and is confused, because it doesn’t seem to make much sense—Ty Lee is very young and has older sisters that still need to be married off, so this seems out of the blue.

 “Ty Lee hesitated at that. If she told her the whole story, Azula might try to stop her. She always agreed with her dad.”—There we are, it’s not her family’s idea, it’s Ozai’s. It’s sad that Ty Lee thinks that Azula will automatically side with Ozai on the issue, but it’s also a commonly held belief about Azula, and something that Ozai has cultivated. I don’t think that anyone has tested what might make Azula break from Ozai—the closest she’s gotten to doing so was when she lied to her father, namely for Zuko after Aang’s “death.”

 Ty Lee tries to deflect Azula’s questions by saying that her family wants to get her hitched before she runs off and joins the circus. And because Azula does, in fact, care about Ty Lee, she doesn’t laugh at the idea, but is instead hurt that Ty Lee is planning to leave—specifically, that’s she’s planning to leave HER. Azula is terrified of being left alone, now that Zuko, Ursa, Mai, and even Iroh have all left her behind without a backwards glance.

 “Ty Lee just glimpsed what looked unbelievably like panic on her wan face”—Ty Lee has never seen Azula panicked before. Or heard her curse before, which is what she does after vomiting into a vase. Ty Lee holds her hair back like a true friend. Somewhere, there’s a college AU of these two having a drunken night out and Ty Lee making sure that Azula doesn’t get vomit in her hair.

 “‘You’d think it’d stop after—’ She stopped then, like she only just remembered something.”—Azula nearly slips here, and I do have to wonder what she almost said. After the potion took effect and the cramping and bleeding started? I’m assuming that the expelled fetus would be too small to see at four months, but I don’t know enough about fetal development to know if that’s correct, and I don’t want to look it up.

 Ty Lee tries to ask her what she’s sick with, which Azula deflects. When thinking about what Azula could have said that she was sick with, I did wonder if Azula would have gone through a poison training regime at some point—been exposed to increasing doses of X and Y poisons to build up an immunity to them? Of course, this would have to be done under the supervision of a trusted doctor, and who knows if Ozai would trust a doctor enough for that.

 “A pulpy mash of what might have been crushed leave, shredded stems, and petals lavender and yellow”—I believe Azula has a double-dose of tansy and pennyroyal here. She also heats up her own tea, which I believe Iroh does too, suggesting that she has equally fine control over her firebending. Zuko, I think, is implied to overheat the water, making for bitter tea.

 “‘Just a miscalculation,’ Azula said almost to herself, and Ty Lee heard how she paused over the world, like it wasn’t her own.”—This plays into a couple of things. Azula has a deep fear of making mistakes, in large part due to being raised by an abusive parent who wouldn’t accept anything less than perfection, but also by the trauma of how own his mistakes have physically and psychologically affected her. It also adds another trigger to why Azula blew up at Mai at the Boiling Rock. Not only was she betrayed and abandoned by Mai, but Mai unintentionally reminded her of the pain from a past miscalculation.

 “dumped a heaping spoonful of some off-white powder into the cup and stirred”—I wonder what this was?

 When Ty Lee points out that Azula’s medicine doesn’t seem to be working, Azula says, “‘It just needs time,’” and I want to sit her down and discuss the sunken cost fallacy, and how you definitely don’t want to apply it to medication. Azula mentions that she wonders if she’ll ever get the taste out of her mouth, and I’m pretty sure she’d get nauseous if she tasted it again, given how aversions work.

 “‘I’ve been taking it every few hours, by Fa—by our physician’s orders.’”—This is an ugly little detail. It’s possible that Azula’s “reaction to the herb” later in the chapter isn’t due to it having an unexpected side effect, but because she had way, way too much of it because she followed Ozai’s orders, rather than her doctor’s instructions. Which isn’t her fault, by the way—it’s Ozai’s.

 “Ty Lee wondered if Azula could heat her hand to make it a hot compress, like the warm washcloth her Nana would drape on her forehead when she was sick. That always felt so good.”—I doubt that Azula has ever had someone give her a hot compress, so she wouldn’t think to do this.

 “‘Listen, you don’t have to run away.’ She drew a deep breath, as if bracing herself for an unpleasant undertaking. ‘I’ll talk to my father. He might get your parents to back off.’”—It’s so telling that Azula isn’t looking forward to asking her father for help.

 Ty Lee admits that Ozai suggested the match, and follows it up with others way that Ozai has tried to elevate her family that they’ve declined. Azula puts two and two together and realizes that Ozai—who presumably already got rid of Mai by putting Mai’s family in charge of Omashu—is trying to do the same to Ty Lee. He’s trying to isolate Azula from her loved ones, both because it lowers to risk of their secret coming to light, but is also a classic abuse tactic: make sure the victim has no one but the abuser in their life, and thus no one else they can turn to for help and support.

 “‘They’re a cadet branch of your family, from back before Fire Lord Sozin.’”—I’m surprised that Ozai hasn’t found a way to get rid of them. Also, Aurelia, you need to read the Kyoshi novels, because I think you would dig the Fire Nation politics in book two.

 “She didn’t start talking again when she saw the look on Azula’s face. It was like someone walled off the last window into her prison cell…. Ty Lee couldn’t guess where that came from, when the princess was the most powerful person she knew. But it fit. Somehow, it fit.”—This hurts so baaaaaaad. But yeah, Ty Lee, you were literally the only bright spot in Azula’s life, and probably the only one who loved her for who she was. Azula is looking at a future where she’s alone with her abuser.

 And what does Azula do in response? She puts Ty Lee first. “‘Then you have to go,’” she says, because if Ty Lee doesn’t run now, Ozai is going to find some other, crueler way to get Ty Lee out of the picture, and Azula knows it. When Ty Lee hesitates, Azula lashes out, trying to drive her away. But what she says is rooted in her own insecurities about being abandoned. In her moments of doubt, I think Azula genuinely thought that Ty Lee was looking for an excuse to leave her, too. Even though it’s apparent that Ty Lee cares about her.

 “‘Do you think I don’t know we were only introduced because your parents were trying to betroth you to Zuko?’”—That is audacious of a minor noble family, not going to lie.

 “her fingers clenching like they always did at the mention of her banished brother.”—Proof that Azula is upset about Zuko being banished, even if she can’t admit it to herself.

 “This was the first Ty Lee heard of it, but she guessed it might be true. It was beside the point anyway. ‘That’s my parents, Azula. Not me,’ she insisted, approaching the white-faced princess. ‘You’re my friend, and I care about you. I’m here because I want to be here.’”—Ty Lee is so precious and Azula should date her. Alas, queer relationships are illegal in the Fire Nation, at least during the time this story is set in.

 Azula continues to break down and is close to outright crying, which makes Ty Lee’s heart sink. We get this bit of info: “‘Don’t you remember how you felt when your grandad tried to arrange a marriage for you? I mean, I know you were younger, but…you wouldn’t want that for me, would you?’” So Azula was not pleased about having to marry her cousin, Lu Ten. I don’t think that info has quite been revealed yet—I think Ursa thinks about it later—but that’s what’s being referred to here.

 “She climbed the shallow steps to sit beside Azula, as close as she dared.”—Even back then, Azula didn’t like being touched. That or Ty Lee is afraid that Azula will hurt her, but I hate that reading.

 “‘What I want doesn’t matter,’ the princess spoke with an awful finality. ‘It never did.’”—Holy HELL does this break my heart. I’ve also been there, so I want to wrap Azula up in a hug, even though I know she’d hate that. Also, does Azula know what she wants? What SHE really wants, and not what the people around her wants from and for her?

 “‘It matters to me,’ Ty Lee said gently, and reached out to lay a hand on her arm in reassurance.”—Ty Lee is trying to kill me with this sweetness. She’s such a good person!

 Azula continues to rant poisonously at Ty Lee, and what Ty Lee doesn’t realize is that there’s a strong undercurrent of self-hatred in what Azula is saying: “but it wasn’t worth putting up with me anymore [ . . . ] was it?” She fully expects people to leave her, and is now actively trying to push Ty Lee away, because then at least she can tell herself that she was the one in control of how their relationship ended, rather than feeling helpless.

 And why is that trauma there? Well, because of Ursa. “‘You act like you’re doing me some kind of favor, saying goodbye when my mother didn’t.’” Ursa didn’t say goodbye to Azula. That would have left deep scars on her, even if the rest of her family and friends were supportive of her.

 Azula then says something that would be unforgiveable for most people: “‘You act like you’re my friend, when the only one stupid enough to believe that is you.’” Azula knows she went too far, because a few seconds later, “the princess had taken one step closer to where [Ty Lee] still sat at the end of the bed, something like regret written on her bloodless face.” I suspect that Azula would have apologized here, but then she collapses onto her knees.

 “Ty Lee was on her feet and down the shallow steps in an instant, her own hurt all but forgotten.”—Ty Lee is such a good friend. She asks Azula what’s wrong, but Azula can’t even think up a convincing lie.

 It’s mentioned that one of Azula’s hands go into her robe to clutch at her stomach, and when she draws her fingers away, there is blood on them. She’s bleeding badly at this point, but the heavy clothing is covering it up. At this point, a servant comes in and tells them that Ozai has summoned Azula, despite the fact that she’s very sick. Ty Lee is appalled, but Azula insists on going. Azula orders Ty Lee away, but of course Ty Lee isn’t about to go now.

 “She didn’t even get to hug Azula goodbye! And what she said about—about not being her friend…. Azula didn’t mean that, right? If Ty Lee just gave her time, she’d take it back, she’d apologize like she always did before.”—I think it’s undeniable that Azula behaves toxically towards her friends at points. Hopefully this will be something that she grows out of, but that is probably going take a lot of time and effort.

 Ty Lee, hearing Azula struggling to get ready, goes to check on her. “[Azula’s] shoulders slumped hopelessly, and she bit her lip so hard she drew blood.”—This really makes you feel for her. She feels like she has to look perfect in front of her own father while she’s severely ill. It makes me want to punch Ozai in the groin. Ty Lee helps her with her hair, which shows that she’s also very brave, as well as a true friend. Ty Lee is so underrated as a character, I swear.

 “The blood was gone from her fingers, and Ty Lee started to wonder if she’d only imagined it.”—Ty Lee is going to have the worst time when she puts two and two together that she was there when Azula was having her abortion. Also when she learns what Ozai was doing to Azula. It’s going to break my heart when it happens.

 Azula then gives Ty Lee her royal seal, which the chapter is named for. Azula gives it to Ty Lee so that Ty Lee will be able to get whatever she needs on the road. This will also let Azula keep track of where she is, but Ty Lee doesn’t think of that in the moment. Ty Lee tries to glomp Azula, but Azula braces herself as if expecting to be hit. “‘We’re not little kids anymore,’” Azula says, and I’m like, “Girl, you’re thirteen, yes you are.”

 Azula’s rejection of the hug hurts Ty Lee, but Ty Lee nonetheless stays in Azula’s room to wait for a real goodbye.

 “And sometimes when Azula’s dad sent for her, she came back upset. She might want to talk about it…. She wouldn’t want to talk about it, Ty Lee admitted [. . .] But she might want someone to talk at her, about stupid meaningless stuff to distract her. Azula acted annoyed when she did that, but sometimes Ty Lee thought she secretly liked it.”—This is so sad, given that we know why Azula comes back upset. I also relate to the distraction tactic. My friends and I use it on each other all of the time when we’re upset.

 Ty Lee considers staying a few extra days to make sure that Azula is feeling better, which definitely goes against Azula’s warning—but then, Ty Lee doesn’t know that she’s in danger. Ty Lee continues to wait for Azula, even after it gets dark. “Every time she looked up into that dark immensity, Ty Lee thought it looked like a giant mouth. Like Azula slept in a dragon’s maw.”—Oh look, a metaphor!

 In the middle of the night, Ozai comes into Azula’s room in a rage and starts destroying her changing screen, which is another abusive action—ruining her belongings in his anger, rather than anything belonging to him—and is probably also a metaphor, since the screen could represent her privacy.

 Ozai quickly realizes that Ty Lee is in the room and reigns himself in, though he’s still radiating rage, and Ty Lee knows that he could hurt her: “And Ty Lee knew a moment of blinding terror, when she imagined his big hands doing to her what they did to the screen….” She actually does think that he’s going to hit her at one point.

 He interrogates her on why she’s there, and Ty Lee thinks about how he and Zuko have the same eyes. It draws to mind that Zuko actually has the same explosive anger as Ozai, though he, at least, has the excuse of youth. Ty Lee, brave as she is, questions Ozai about where Azula is, and doesn’t buy the explanation he gives her.

 “‘She is a prodigy [ . . . ] My perfect girl….’ Something in his voice made Ty Lee’s eyes go wide. He talked about Azula like—like maybe she wasn’t those things anymore. Like something bad happened to her….”—Woof. First, she shouldn’t have to be perfect. Second, what’s happening to Azula is your fault, Ozai, not hers.

 “‘She will sit the Burning Throne one day, with the world for her dominion.’”—Title drop! “‘Nothing will divert her from that goal. Nothing [ . . . ] and no one.’”—What if Azula has different dreams, Ozai? What if she does something wild like fall in love? What is SHE wants to join a circus? Cirque Du Soleil, maybe!

 In any case, Ty Lee doesn’t get the hint that Ozai is talking about her, or that he sees Ty Lee as a distraction to Azula. Namely, a distraction from him and his ambitions.

 “Ty Lee spotted two servants halfway down the length of it. They scrubbed at a dark stain on the tile floor, working on hands and knees with their heads together, whispering. They fell silent immediately on spotting the Fire Lord, and redoubled their efforts, eyes fixed determinedly on their work and not on the young girl he led by the arm down a side passage.”—Oh, they absolutely know what’s going on with Azula. That he’s dragging another young girl down a hallway is not a good look for him, either.

 Ozai shoves Ty Lee off onto a guard to escort out of the palace. The guard, to his credit, is gentle with her. Once outside, Ty Lee considers trying to go back inside, wanting to prove to Azula that they’re friends. However, she heeds Azula’s warning instead, which likely saves her life, since Ozai would done something terrible had she ignored his threats. She would have become a security risk once she knew the truth, after all, and it’s not like she’s her family’s heir.  

 We flash forward to the present day, with Ty Lee reminiscing on what happened afterwards. Ty Lee wrote to Azula, but I strongly suspect that Azula burned the letters after reading them, and didn’t send letters back because she was worried that someone might use them to track Ty Lee down. That and she was pretending that Ty Lee had stolen from her, so no sense in acting too chummy. Also, Azula is Ty Lee’s “first and oldest friend,” which is cute and probably implies the same thing right back at Ty Lee.

 Ty Lee thinks about how Azula’s aura was different when they met again, and how Zuko’s was the same color for a while. She noticed that Azula was cold and lying all of the time (her aura colors meaning, “fear of the future, self-expression, or telling the truth,” “struggling to maintain control,” “anger,” and “survival-oriented”), and was getting worse and worse mentally, especially after Zuko left again. Eventually, it was so bad that Ty Lee was scared of her….

 But because Ty Lee is a saint, they reconnected at the asylum. When Ty Lee shows her the seal, Azula has doubts that she’ll put her name to anything again, and I’m like, “Please, there is no story if you don’t.”

 “Azula didn’t think she would ever get out of the asylum [ . . . ] Zuko refused to even consider releasing her. He would see she wasn’t crazy anymore if he just talked to her, but Zuko wouldn’t even see her. Yeah, Ty Lee knew they had a bad history, but wasn’t it a Fire Lord’s job to take care of all his subjects, even the ones he didn’t like? It made her mad just thinking about it, about him. Why wouldn’t he listen? Didn’t he care?”—Well for one thing, Ty Lee, if Zuko lets Azula out of the asylum, she’ll have to stand trial. She’ll also no longer be under his control, which he cares about much more than Azula herself.

 “Azula said not to come back for her birthday, but she didn’t say when to come back. And Ty Lee was left wondering if the answer was, well…never. No. Azula was her friend. She was as much, and meant it.”—So good to see someone having faith in Azula! You go, Ty Lee!

 In the present day, the other Kyoshi Warriors all know that Azula has escaped the asylum, but no one has told Ty Lee.

 “her skirts falling to cover the linen pantalettes most Kyoshins hadn’t even know were part of the uniform, until Ty Lee arrived.”—This is very funny, given what it implies about Ty Lee’s love of acrobatics.

 Aww, Azula is wearing her hair in a braid like Ty Lee taught her. I know it’s more practical for her long hair, but it’s also sweet (and smart, not wearing it in the traditional Fire Nation topknot).

 Ty Lee, our sweet summer child, thinks that Zuko let Azula go. “Azula frowned, and a guardedness stole over her face. For once, she looked more sad than angry at the mention of her brother.”—That stings. But the two go inside to discuss Azula’s escape more, since Azula quickly establishes that she broke herself out.

 Ty Lee’s house is a mess, because of course it is, but Azula doesn’t actually mind—probably too tired to. “Ty Lee stared. Since when was Azula fine with messy surroundings? She was such a neat-freak even when they were kids that she cleaned Ty Lee’s room unprompted practically every time she came over. One of the lesser-known benefits of having the princess for a friend.”—This is rather funny. I would also not be surprised if, in a modern setting, Azula was diagnosed with some form of OCD, given this sort of behavior.

 Azula is very chill and polite during this visit—you can see how much she’s grown when contrasting this to how she treated Ty Lee in the flashback—and perks up at the thought of food. Ty Lee starts to make breakfast, thinking about what Azula’s escape might mean. We get more about how the Kyoshi Warriors are still bitter at Azula, and how Ty Lee sticking up for Azula drove a wedge between her and the others. “Four years, and it was like they didn’t trust her at all!”—Probably because they don’t, where Azula is concerned.

 “And she would do just about anything for Azula. Anything but hurt another friend. She drew that line at the boiling Rock, and for all her doubts, Ty Lee didn’t think the princess would cross it again.”—Good, Ty Lee, I’m glad that you’ve set a boundary. Though you might want to be more worried about Mai now, since she would benefit from Azula being hurt or killed, and is still in demonizing Azula mode.

 Apparently, back when they were travelling together, Azula would start the campfire and then do firebending practice, rather than helping cook or set up camp, which was self-centered of her. There’s a faint echo of this set-up here, though it’s happening in Ty Lee’s home, and Azula stays put this time.

 Ty Lee asks when Azula escaped, and Azula admits that it was on her birthday—Ty Lee had visited two days before—and Ty Lee asks her a piercing question about why she didn’t want Ty Lee there for it: “Was it because—you didn’t want to make me choose again? Or because [ . . . ] you didn’t think I’d choose you?”

 Azula admits that there was some of both reasons in there, which Ty Lee is hurt by. “Azula had issues with trust, she knew that. But she still couldn’t help thinking, It’s like nobody trusts me at all! All she wanted was for everyone to like her. Was that so much to ask?”—This is self-centered of Ty Lee, but I’m amused by how this quote ends. No, Ty Lee, not everyone is going to like you, and that’s okay. It sucks, but that’s just how life is. But she’s what, eighteen, so of course that will take some time for her to internalize. Even though I, personally, do think everyone should like her, because she’s great.

 “‘I would have chose you,’ Ty Lee said softly, seating herself beside the princess to put them on equal conversational footing. She reached across the table and their empty plates to grasp Azula’s arm. ‘It was wrong of Zuko to keep you there. I told him so, lots of times.’”—This is such a sweet moment and strikes a great contrast to the conversation they had in the flashback. Whereas Azula lashed out in the flashback and Ty Lee wasn’t sure what to do, now Azula is being vulnerable and accepting Ty Lee’s comfort. It’s really nice.

 “Azula looked up with a sad smile. ‘I know you did.’”—My heart!

 Azula then surprises Ty Lee by asking about her mother, Princess Ursa, and where Zuko searched for her. Mostly he searched in the colonies (have those reverted to the Earth Kingdom or are they still Fire Nation-owned?), but lost the trail at the Great Divide. That place is such a curse to our heroes, isn’t it?

 Ty Lee thinks that this is a new adventure to go on with Azula, which on the one hand, I would love, but on the other hand, I’m offended on behalf of the Kyoshi Warriors. Is she just planning to ditch them? Also, from a meta standpoint, she’d be third-wheeling later on. Azula gently shoots the idea down, but proposes that Ty Lee be her ally among her enemies. Not a spy, but a safety net. Ty Lee initially thinks about how Azula once burned her own safety net, but then thinks, “She’s not that person anymore [ . . . ] She’s changed.” Which I do think is true. Azula has a lot of lingering problems, but she does seem genuine about making things up to Ty Lee. So Ty Lee agrees to the deal.

 And then the eggs burn and Azula vomits at the smell. Azula reveals that she’s been getting sick a lot lately, which she chalks up to the Earth Kingdom’s food being too heavy. Ty Lee is skeptical of this, and then puts the pieces together before Azula does: Azula is pregnant! Ty Lee is pretty adorably excited about this, not noticing that Azula is quietly panicking, and asks who the father is, which is a line of questioning that Azula shuts down: “‘He’s married [ . . . ] and even if he weren’t, completely worthless.’”

 Ty Lee’s exuberance will not be deterred, but Azula is very much not excited: “I’m on the run from the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom both. This can only slow me down, and make it harder to hide. I should—“—Get rid of it. But Azula isn’t going to, even though she knows that it’s not strategically sound for her to be pregnant, let alone have a baby. At the same time, abortion carries its own, potentially deadly risks.

 “And an awful thought occurred to Ty Lee, one too terrible to put to words even. This whole time, she had imagined Azula falling in love with some handsome guard who spirited her away in the middle of the night, or a brave young general who always loved her from afar and broke her out of the asylum to restore her crown…. But she was pregnant, and alone. That should have been Ty Lee’s first clue something was wrong.”—Woof. She doesn’t think that Azula might have been assaulted here, but she does sense that there was nothing romantic in what happened. Also, her fantasies for Azula are so saccharine! XD  

 When Ty Lee asks for more info, Azula, blushing with shame, says, “‘I don’t—even remember most of it. It might have happened to someone else.’”—Confirming that she was disassociating in chapter seven.

 Azula starts crying and Ty Lee hugs her. Azula returns the hug and rambles about how this is another way for “him” to control her, and how much she doesn’t want him to have power over her, which Ty Lee doesn’t understand. But she’s supportive of Azula and tells her that she’ll get through this, because Azula always figures something out.

 Ty Lee takes Azula back inside and notices that her aura is a mix of colors, including lemon-yellow, which she thought happened when Azula was lying, but actually represents the fear of losing control. Which, you know, makes sense coming from Azula. The white with white sparkles is the baby.

 “Wow, Azula with a baby. It was hard to imagine. But he’d be next in line for the throne, after Lu Ten and Azula herself. Unless—did illegitimate children still inherit? Ty Lee should know this, she used to be a noble.”—Oh Ty Lee, sweetie. No, bastards don’t inherit unless they are legitimized by royal decree. Granted, it’s possible, even probable, that this child will be legitimized, though Zuko would have to be the one to do it. Unless Azula claimed the throne, in which case, she could do it herself. Which would be great. Upset that monarchal system, Azula, it’s terrible!

 “Or maybe she would have a girl! Ty Lee hoped she had a girl, one who looked just like her. Ty Lee wondered what the father looked like.”—Pretty dang similar, Ty Lee! Pretty dang similar!

 Kaede, one of the Kyoshi Warriors, comes knocking on Ty Lee’s door to tell her about Azula’s escape. You know, only a month late. Ty Lee yells to try to wake Azula up, because Azula is a light sleeper. Yeah, abuse trains you not to sleep too deeply.

 Kaede catches on to the fact that Ty Lee might have Azula around when she sees there are two plates set out, though Ty Lee tries to throw her off the scent by suggesting that she’s waiting for Shan Mo, her newest suitor. Oh Ty Lee, if only you were bi and dating girls too, then Kaede couldn’t catch you out on this lie. Apparently, the men take long fishing trips. Kaede insists on going in and checking the house out, but fortunately, Azula has already fled.

 Kaede and Ty Lee follow her into the woods. Kaede is shocked to see Azula looking like such a mess, and Azula, being a quick-thinker, loudly accuses Ty Lee of betraying her. It takes Ty Lee a second to catch on, and her response is hilarious: “You’re mean, and I hate you for ALL TIME!” Even if Ty Lee was an amazing actress, I’m pretty sure Kaede wouldn’t have bought this. Not when Ty Lee has been visiting Azula for years now, with her last visit being a scant two days before Azula broke out. The Kyoshi Warriors might even think she helped somehow, even if Ty Lee didn’t accompany Azula off of Ember Island.

 “Kaede had drawn her katana, but actually lowered it along with her fan to glance at Ty Lee in disbelief.”—Your distraction, Kaede, is why you’re about to get your butt whooped.

 There is some fighting, which is dynamic and exciting, but this cuteness is what sticks out to me: “Ty Lee couldn’t help grinning up at Azula, when the princess flipped overhead. It was always cool to see her combine firebending with the acrobatics Ty Lee taught her. It made her feel a warm glow of accomplishment inside, as if she were the one to pull that off.”—I blame you entirely for making me ship them, Aurelia. Stuff like this makes me want them to take over the palace and raise Azula’s baby together.

 Azula knocks Kaede out, and when Ty Lee goes to check on Kaede to confirm that she’s okay, Azula makes a sarcastic quip about what a relief that is. Ty Lee isn’t upset by this—she’s happy that Azula still has her sense of humor: “Most people didn’t realize Azula had a sense of humor, ‘cause it was kind of a black humor. But when she lost it, that was always a bad sign.”—Contrast this later to how alarmed a certain someone is by Azula’s dark humor, and how Azula reacts to it.

 “‘Listen, you’re going to be fine [ . . . ] You’re the most beautiful, smartest, perfect girl in the world!’”—First, be more bi, Ty Lee. Be more bi. Second, Azula just nods in response to this, as if she’s humoring Ty Lee’s views of her. She doesn’t actually seem to believe these things about herself anymore, if she ever did.

 Azula suggests that Ty Lee needs to be knocked out when the other Warriors find her, and Ty Lee reveals that she can do that to herself: “Ty Lee had ended up practicing that move on herself and volunteers of varying willingness a lot of times, before she got it right.”—Never change, Ty Lee.  

 Ty Lee doesn’t let Azula leave without a hug this time. Azula hugs her back, and also gives Ty Lee a backwards glance goodbye as she goes. How they’ve both grown since the flashback! Loving the parallelism here!

 As Azula heads out, she focuses on the negatives of being pregnant. She then has this truly depressing series of thoughts: “Azula took a moment to wonder if this was how her mother felt about her. If Ursa ever considered ending it, ending her before she ever came into the world. Her mother hadn’t wanted another child, Dad told her. Their marriage had already soured by then, and she was happy in her precious son. But Zuko was a weakling, her father knew it even then. So he demanded another, and her mother complied. She might have acted in secret to prevent him, maybe even did a few times before Azula…. But she could not deny him forever. So Ozai got his wish. And Azula got a mother who hated her existence.”

 First, Ozai had no business telling Azula any of that, and almost certainly did it to turn Azula against her mother and draw her closer to him. Second, this paints a very dark picture of Ozai and Ursa’s marriage—a picture we will later learn to be true. It shows the ugliness of a society where divorce isn’t permitted, and where wives are obligated to have their husbands’ children, regardless of what they themselves want.

 Azula then starts to consider herself as a potential parent. “Could she do that to a child? [ . . . ] Even if it lived—and with such unfortunate paternity, there was every chance it wouldn’t—could Azula give it that kind of start?”—The fact that she’s wondering this is a promising sign, even if Azula doesn’t realize it yet. It’s also relatable to any victim of child abuse who worries about mistreating their own children, someday.

 “You had a father who loved you [ . . . ] How many times did she tell herself that was enough? Enough that he wanted her, enough that he saw her worth?”—Azula, sweetie, if you have to tell yourself this, then it means you don’t have enough emotional support in your life, even from him.

 “This baby, if it lived, wouldn’t have even that. Her brother had been happy enough to take advantage, but he didn’t ask for this either. And Zuko never took responsibility for anything, unless it made him look good. His failings were always someone else’s fault. Usually hers.”—This is ugly, but also true about Zuko. I do think that he made progress in the show, between apologizing to Iroh and helping the Avatar. But that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t slip up and fall back into old habits sometimes, especially where Azula is concerned. After all, how would she know that he’s grown as a person, when he’s never showed empathy towards her?

 “She blamed the hormones. She blamed her brother, damn him. Damn him. Halfway around the world, and still managed to ruin her life….”—I should note that while I’m not a fan of Zuko’s behavior, Azula is just as poisoned against him. She’s not wrong about this. But she’ll have to deal with her bitterness towards him too, someday.

 Azula runs into another group of Warriors and thinks, “They fancied themselves as defenders, not aggressors. Azula counted that about as smart as fighting with one hand tied behind your back.”—This might be a viewpoint shaped by her being a part of a colonizing force, rather than a defending one. I also notice that as she gives them a speech, she goes into a stance where one arm is shielding her core. That could just be a part of the form, but it could also be a subtle, unconscious way of protecting the baby.

 During the fight that follows, Azula uses Ty Lee’s techniques against the group, but never aims to kill them—something that can not be said of the Kyoshi Warriors, since they’re using live steel.

 “Azula considered them coolly when they fell back to regroup, failing to see the appeal. But then, Ty Lee always did have bad taste when left to her own devices. It was probably inevitable this would extend to her chosen companions.”—Somewhere, Mai is snickering at Azula’s expense. But also, have a little more faith in Ty Lee, Azula.

 “A minute’s swordplay, and they forgot that she could firebend. It might almost be funny, if it wasn’t just sad.”—LOL.

 “The rain of blows was almost more than Azula could keep up with, her training with blades being nowhere near as extensive as, for example, her brother’s.”—I’m shocked. Azula is admitting that Zuko is better than her at something!

 “Never bring a sword to a firefight [ . . . ] Sokka’s little tart might have told you so, if she ever bothered to learn.”—I think this might be the first time that Azula has referenced a member of the Gaang (sans Zuko) by name. It implies that she has a little more respect for him than the others.

 One of the downed Warriors says that the Earth Kingdom is planning to take Azula’s head off, to which Azula sarcastically remarks, “‘Trusting to the competence of others [ . . . ] Always a sound strategy.’”—I see Azula’s point that trusting strangers to do a job for you probably isn’t going to work out. However, she should know the value of teamwork, given her journey with Mai and Ty Lee. Possibly she’ll really embrace the concept down the road, but we’ll see.

 “And for all that Azula could probably blast enough of them to ashes to make an instructive example, that would hardly contribute to her friendship with Ty Lee.”—Ah yes, making up excuses for why you don’t want to kill people, Azula. Ozai would not have hesitated.

 As Azula passes through town, I’ll note there are many men in the crowd, so perhaps Kaede’s comment earlier referred to a specific group of them. Also, as they start to chase after her, Azula does something very cool: “Azula [ . . . ] punched the sand. And blue flames flared from her fist like phoenix wings, surging to twice her own height when they seared down the beach in either direction, drawing a line of fire in the sand. Her attackers scrambled back with gasps and a few yells, when her fire fused the grains to glass and leapt high to hide her from view, fed by her chi. Even those who fought the Fire Navy would not have seen this kata, taught almost exclusively for exhibition firebending. Azula herself hadn’t practiced it in a few months, and was gratified that she remembered it so well.”

 It shouldn’t surprise me that Azula knows firebending moves that are for exhibitions, rather than combat, but I love the thought of her tackling these moves just for the joy of it. In a different universe, I could see her taking great satisfaction in winning firebending competitions, possibly while in disguise so as not to sway the judges with her royal status. In fact, Aurelia, let’s maybe add that to the Aunt Tam AU. Tam wants her to join an extracurricular at the Academy. Trophies ensue, which may or may not end up in Tam’s china cabinet (which, knowing her, never actually contained china).

 Azula took a tourist boat from Chin Village to get here, which is a fun mental image. She makes a joke about hoping that the villagers can swim, but of course they can. Fortunately, she manages to get away on another boat, but thinks, “Was it going to be like this in every town that recognized her? How tiresome.”—I don’t want to say that’s what you get for being part of an imperialist regime and conquering the largest city in the Earth Kingdom, but…that’s kind of what you get when you do that! XD

 Ty Lee wanted to be an actress at one point. I think she made the right call by joining the circus instead, since it’s much more suited to her talents.

 “It had been six years to the day Ty Lee ran away for the circus”—That’s interesting. Ty Lee left a month after Azula’s thirteenth birthday.

 “An invisible weight seemed to settle in her stomach when she thought back to that, the worst day of her life until she lost the Agni Kai….”—This is very sad. Also, she admits to losing the Agni Kai here, rather than Zuko cheating by having a second.

 Now we return to the flashback we began the chapter with. This time, it’s from Azula’s perspective, and she isn’t doing well. She’s dizzy, in pain, and she’s bleeding heavily, enough so that her thighs are already covered in blood, right after she’s changed clothes. She’s worried she’s going to leave a trail before much longer.

 “No one could know, no one could ever know, she remembered, forcing herself to take one step, then another. He said, never tell….”—This is horrifying.

 “How could there be anything still left inside her? He said that this would end it, he said that it was safe. Their own court physician handed her the prescription, and told her how to brew the tea.”—But did he say how much to take? Also, why in god’s name weren’t you kept in the infirmary? Sure, that would risk someone finding out what’s going on, but if Ozai hadn’t summoned Azula, Azula would probably have bled to death in her bedroom. The only reason that she didn’t die was because a servant went to get a doctor. Alternatively, Ty Lee probably would have gotten a doctor, but either way, sending her to her room alone was a bad idea. You need to observe someone who’s going through this in case something bad happens. Which, you know (gestures wildly at the blood).

 “It was too late for these doubts [ . . . ] The time for doubt, if it had ever been, was gone.”—Azula, I’m going to be straight with you. You’re dying. It’s natural to have doubts now.

 “Her father was waiting for her, and she couldn’t disappoint him. Especially now…. He had said it was his fault. He miscalculated. She couldn’t have known. He spoke so softly when he said it, he didn’t even sound like himself. But that it happened at all suggested a lack of control. She had to prove she was still in control, always in control. She had to prove he could depend on her in anything—”—Or, maybe, and I know this is wild, Azula, but hear me out: YOU DO NOT NEED TO MAKE UP FOR YOUR FATHER’S FAILINGS. YOU ARE A CHILD. HE SHOULD BE TAKING CARE OF YOU, NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND. IF HE WAS TAKING CARE OF YOU LIKE A PROPER PARENT, THIS WOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED.

 Of course, I’m talking to a wall of text right now, but sue me, this part makes me emotional.

 Azula collapses, much to the alarm of the servant. Azula grabs her wrist and orders her to get a doctor, but the servant is “staring with eyes wide as saucers at something near Azula’s feet.” Which is blood, by the way—a spreading pool of blood. Best case scenario, the palace staff assumes that someone stabbed the princess. But in all likelihood, it’s clear to the servant what this is and what it means. If the servant is smart, she’ll say nothing. But I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a staffing purge after this, and I mean that in a very permanent sense.

 “A cold heaviness settled over her like a blanket of snow.”—I wonder how Azula knows what that feels like?

 “It was only when she was gone and the abandoned hall grew dim round her, that Azula let her tears fall. It was only then she let herself wonder, if her father intended this all along….”—Ooof, this hurts.

 “It was all training. She knew that, he knew that. But he had been very clear. No one else could know. They wouldn’t understand. It would mean the end of his reign as Fire Lord, the end of her place in the line of succession.”—Then why, in god’s name, did you do this, Ozai? Why take on this much risk? I daresay it’s overconfidence, since he didn’t foresee what’s happening to Azula right now, but good lord, he’s really something else.

 “He could always have more children [ . . . ] With someone who isn’t his daughter.”—God, I hate this. This poor kid!

 “But then…why send Ty Lee away? Azula grasped at the possibility. He must not want her to know what they did, but—But why bother to hurt you, when what he really meant was to kill you? She shuddered, bending in on herself. It occurred to her in that moment that there was something profoundly wrong with her life, if this was the only explanation she could find for it.”—There it is. For just a moment, Azula realizes what how nightmarish her life and her relationship with her father are. She’s going to bury this truth, but deep down, she knows that this is wrong. Even if it’s going to take her years to face it again.

 “She wished she hadn’t sent Ty Lee away. She wished it until the same image came unbidden to her mind, as when her friend revealed her father’s hand in this. Ty Lee with a scar like Zuko’s, smiling, still smiling until she winced. And the same pain blossomed in her chest as before, surpassing what she felt now as the sun surpassed the moon. She couldn’t let it happen.”—Azula loves Ty Lee so much, even if she’s bad at showing it. I think that if Azula had to chose between Ty Lee and her father, this tells us who she would pick, even if no one, even Azula, would believe it.

 Azula blacks out and wakes up intermittently in the infirmary over the following days. “She was in [ . . . ] the same bed they put her brother in when Dad scarred him, ironically enough.”—Yes, that sure is ironic, considering that Ozai’s abuse towards Azula is what landed her here, just like with Zuko.

 “Her father was never there when she woke. She wondered if he came while she slept. She wondered if she even wanted him to.”—Good. Be disillusioned with him. Don’t want him around. I think if you were in any shape to run away from him, I’d encourage you to do so. Catch up with Ty Lee and show off your firebending at the circus. I mean, I know Ozai would track you down soon afterwards, but I just want good things for you, Azula. Staying with him will not accomplish that.

 “He drew a chair up beside her bed and took a seat as if this were an invitation. Not that he needed one.”—I hate monarchies and patriarchies so much.

 Azula can’t even sit up from the pain, which Ozai frowns at. What a dick.

 “It was disrespectful not to look at him when he was speaking, but she couldn’t seem to do it.”—I wouldn’t want to look at him either, Azula. He’s awful. “And she closed her eyes at this, feeling as if the longer he sat there, the less air there was in the room.”—This is a bad sign, Azula, on top of all the warning klaxons and flashing danger lights.

 “She raised her eyes to his face and traced the line of his jaw, the arch of his brows, the slant of his eyes. All features he passed on to her.”—Ugh.

 “This was kinder than she could remember him being in a long time. It should have made her feel better. But it didn’t.”—She is so defeated here, and I don’t blame her for it.

 Ozai, being a despicable person, says that this never needs to happen again—not because he’s planning to stop her training, but because he now realizes that using birth control would be a good idea! Azula is understandably horrified. “She almost died, and he wasn’t going to stop.”—Run, Azula. Run away as fast as you can. You will die if you stay in this relationship. I suspect the only reason you didn’t was because of how the events in the show worked out.

 “He must have felt her hands jump under his, because Ozai tightened his grip, his hand grown hot enough to sear her skin. A warning of what she could expect if she failed him. Azula knew better than to betray any sign of discomfort.”—Aang, maybe you should have killed Ozai. I get why you didn’t. I get why the writers of the show didn’t want to go in that direction. But Ozai is a monstrous person. Even if he wasn’t trying to conquer the world and willing to burn whole chunks of it to accomplish that goal, how he treats his children is heinous.

 Ozai gives her a speech about why her training is important, and I’m sitting here like, “Cool motive, still sexual abuse.” There were other ways Azula could have learned this material—books, lectures from courtesans, maybe some experimentations of her own when she was old enough for it. Instead, the trauma from this abuse is going to haunt her well into adulthood. None of this is making her stronger, either. If anything, it’s left her vulnerable to inappropriate sexual advances, and has made it so that she dissociates during sex, rather than being present for it.

 “‘There will always be those who underestimate you, because you were born second, or born a woman.’ She knew he spoke from experience, and felt the same warm glow she always did inside, when he shared that with her. ‘Do not let it gall you as I did, my dear.’”—This would almost be sweet if Ozai wasn’t an emotionally manipulative jerk.

 “He stood then, and surprised her by bending to place a light kiss on her forehead, his big hand cupping her chin. He hadn’t done that since she was a little girl”—I hate him so much. This is also manipulative, though I’m not sure if Ozai realizes that that’s what he’s doing.

 “Your reaction to the herb was…unexpected. And Lao will pay dearly for it, once your recovery is complete.”—Lao vanished soon afterwards, never to be seen or heard from again.

 “I do not mean to harm you [ . . . ] I hope you never doubted that.”—But do your intentions matter when you DID harm her, haven’t apologized for it, and won’t change your actions to ensure her safety in the future?

 “‘I never did,’ Azula said quietly. That almost-smiled tugged at the corners of his mouth then, and she knew that he was pleased. It was the first time she succeeded in lying to her father. Azula felt hollow inside.”—Azula has lost her faith in her father. This isn’t a bad thing, though. What’s unfortunate is that she can’t and won’t leave him, even after all of this trauma. I suspect that she’ll think that she has to take care of him, because he’s a flawed human being who “needs” her. But something has broken here, and I hope that someday, she’ll be able to leave him behind. But it’s probably going to be a long time before that happens.

 And that wraps up chapter twelve! As always, thank you for the read, Aurelia!

 Sincerely,

WiseAbsol    

[melnchly-a]

madge main verse (survival au) district 13 + rebellion timeline headcanons:

madge escapes d12 with second (majority) and minor third degree burns across her back and shoulders, first degree burns on her hands and forearms. she also suffers from smoke inhalation. the first and second degree burns are healed within weeks, but some of the third degree burns take longer. the skin on her back/shoulders/parts of her upper arm is discolored in some locations due to the second degree burns, and scarred in the locations of the third-degree burns. how she reaches the survivors in the woods she’s never sure. she collapses almost immediately upon finding them. (she’s lucky that mrs. everdeen, prim, and hazelle hawthorne were there, or she still wouldn’t have survived. shock and hypothermia likely would have killed her.)

she receives further medical care  once they make it to 13. once she’s deemed fit, she’s put into training with the others.

her physical injuries heal much more quickly than the mental and emotional ones. madge doesn’t display these well, internalizing them so deeply that she comes across as cold and emotionally flat to those who don’t know her. she tends to stick pretty close to the people she does know, or to spend leisure time on her own. (hazelle hawthorne insists as often as she can that madge come by and spend reflection time with them.) she has next to no appetite for the first few weeks. she doesn’t eat much at all the first week, and only a little bit the following two. slowly, she’s able to eat more normally.

when katniss goes to district 2, they send madge along with her. she’s there the full two weeks before gale arrives/they begin the trap plan for the nut. she’s there to help administer first aid when katniss is shot.

upon returning from d2 she immediately jumps back into training, eventually moving into helping beetee and gale with some of their plans. she isn’t as invested in weapon design/trap setting, but she knows a little bit more about the intricacies of the capitol/other districts/their strategies, so her input comes in useful.

she’s actually meant to be sent to the capitol slightly before the others, with the first or so wave of troops who set up the rebel encampment. at the last minute, she’s pulled back.

she doesn’t arrive in the capitol with the rest of the star squad (missing the first four days and leeg hitting the mislabeled pod), but arrives with peeta, instead.

she’s with peeta and jackson when the “real or not real” game starts and is able to help answer some of the initial questions about katniss and d12

when they split up to go off from tigris’s in groups, madge insists on sticking with peeta and helping him cause a diversion as best she can. they get separated before making it to the city center, though, and madge escapes the worst of the explosions that burn peeta

she runs to try to find him when it’s over, and doesn’t hear about prim until they make it back to safety.

while cressida, pollux and gale are sent off on other missions, while peeta’s in the burn ward, madge is kept in the capitol where she falls in with paylor.

when she isn’t working, she goes to visit katniss and peeta or to check on mrs. everdeen

coin reminds her too much of capitol officials and politicians she has known in the past, and to her great displeasure madge finds she doesnt trust her at all.

she’s surprised when katniss shoots coin and not snow, so shocked that she almost forgets how to breathe.

paylor becomes president, and immediately takes madge on as her assistant.

madge fights hard to be allowed to visit katniss before her trial. it’s paylor who finally allows it.

madge is present for katniss’s trial, and gets to say goodbye before she and haymitch leave.

she stays on in the capitol for a while, helping paylor

in general arcs she stays on with paylor, becoming something like her chief of staff.

in others she’s transferred to 2 in some other official capacity.

she does eventually go to twelve to visit katniss, but she doesn’t stay very long, and stays as far away from the ruins of town as she can.

she continues to visit every so often forever after (particularly after katniss and peeta’s kids are born) though - - again - - she never stays long.

[optimismrpt]

hello! i have followed so many of your groups and i've always admired how well you structure and plan your plots. i feel like many groups these days get buoyed up on an idea but fail to make it past the first event. can you explain just how you plan out a plot, how your structure that plot progression, and any advice/practicalities on how to build a full narrative into a plot that has a definite start/end and can come full circle? any advice you have would be so amazing. thank you for your time!

Okay first off wow, thank you so so much! I try my best and I put A LOT of work into the rps I run. And it’s true it is very hard to get part the first two weeks, and even I, with all my structure and planning, falter sometimes! But sometimes things work out! And below the cut I have put some of my plotting tactics and strategies. 

First off you need an objective in mind, something concrete that your character need to do, achieve, or get. 

For example: 

The team must find and kill Vronsky. 

The team must relight the beacon. 

The team must track down the war fugitive and bring him in for trial. 

The passengers must discover who the murderer is. 

I take inspiration from shows like Avatar: The Last Airbender which had a clear plot and timeline in mind from the very start. Ex. Aang must master the four elements and defeat Ozai before the comet. 

And I take warning from shows like Supernatural: Dean and Sam hunt monsters for seemingly the rest of eternity. 

One of these has a strong ending that will bring peace and resolution to watchers because it fulfills the starting goal. The other will go on and on until eventually people lose interest or they end in a ridiculous and contrived deus ex machina. (Not to get too off topic but if Supernatural had ended at season 5 it would have been an example of a good plot arc). 

This is the problem I see a lot of rps facing. The plot is: weird town is weird. Or people do bad things for bad reasons. And there is no structure to it - nowhere to go. Start with the end in mind. 

But I get it, sometimes simple can be fun! And not everything has to last for months! 

Here’s what I do to plot my rps: plot point A to point B. 

Point A: The very beginning of the rp. I like to set this within a month of the characters meeting each other, so they’ve known each other long enough t o have first impressions as well as know what they have signed up for whether it be a mission or a quest. 

Example Point A: The team met in the capitol city three weeks ago and have been planning and packing for the long journey ahead. Today they exit the gates and start their quest. 

Point B: the very end of the rp. This includes the climax and the resolution. You need to know if you want your team to be successful or not and you should have at least a vague idea how they ‘save the day’. 

Example Point B: The team arrives at the top of the Great Mountain, are tested by the guardians and relight the beacon. With hope restored to the land they part ways, changed forever. The princes and crowned and the couples marry. 

Once you know point A and point B you need obstacles. Obstacles can be people, monsters, the weather, the landscape, an event, and so on! This is what Joseph Campbell would call ‘The Road of Trials’ and like any classic myth it involves circumstances getting int he way of progress. These must be overcome. I view each obstacle as a plot drop and usually write about 6 to 12. 

Here is the plot outline I wrote for my latest completed private rp @questbegunrp.  It’s quite long so If you don’t want to read it scroll past the italic. 

Plot:

Leaving the city - the team rides out and away from anderos’ capital city where they first met. This is the first week so it’s pretty much just a time for everyone to do initial threads and get started.

Plains of Anderos - while riding across the plains of anderos towards baine the group is attacked by wargs. They must fight off the giant feral animals, protect each other and their horses (and the dog).

Wrongly accused - the team make it out of the forest and into the kingdom of ironhaust. They stop at a small town and enjoy the moment in civilization. But one among them is framed for a crime and a mob attempts to hunt down the innocent team member. The team must save their friend from the gallows. Now is the time to lay low recuperate and gather information on what Wulf is accused of

Lost forest of Baine- The team finally arrives at the border of the entlands. They find that it is disorienting and filled with a thick fog. They must navigate through the confusing and threatening environment. ( view of the past )

Ruins - the team find the lost city of baine, now in a state of crumbling ruins. They decide to make camp there for the night but are force to fight when a group of bandits attacks and takes rosalyn hostage. The team must get her back.

Bridge - The team is attacked by a group of goblins just before they are about to cross the ‘blackfire gorge’. They choose to run hoping that they can cross the long wooden bridge in time to make is safely to the other side and some of them do. But the other are trapped by a flaming arrow and the bridge snaps. Six party members are left on the edge and six tumble to the river - swept away to the mines.

Mines- While the fallen half of the team nearly drowns after falling into the river and being swept into the underground dwarven watermills they safely arrive on a bank. This team struggles with injury and a lack of direction. While the other half of the tema enters the mines and searches desperately for their friends. Just as the leave they are attacked by living shadows.

Refuge - the team is reunited and with the help of their new guide they make their way to the remains of a onc great dwarven city. It is empty now but the wanderer has been maintaining it. This is the time for the team to express their feelings to each other as their destination grows near.

( Cemetery - Seer ( a view into their future ) the team arrives at a cemetery near the edge of the mountain. While there they meet two strangers: a wizened seer and a young man. The seer offers to show the team visions of their future.

Maze - a labrightn of stone and vine surrounds the base of the mountain, built by magic. There is no climbing over it so the team must navigate the maze together. But that isn’t the most difficult part: there is a Wyrm that live sin the maze. It can only see movement but if it finds the team it will eat whoever it can catch.

Statues of judgement - the final threshold. Living statues demand that each member of the team prove they are worthy of going to the final resting place of the council. Each team member must make a case for themself and for one other person.

Relighting the beacon

Resolution

Some of these ended up being cut but for the most part we got through this plot all the way to the resolution! 

It is important to remember that a rp plot is like a growing, living thing. You do not have full control and you never can. Sometimes your members will do something with their character that will change the plot. Sometimes members leave and there is a huge blank space that you need to fill. You have to be willing to twist and mold the narrative to fill in blanks and meet the needs of your players. And that can be really really difficult. 

For more information of how I run my skeleton rps check these two guides PART ONE and PART TWO. 

[recentanimenews]

What Anime Represent Each of Japan's Eras?

On April 30, 2019, Japan’s Emperor Akihito officially abdicated the throne and his son, Naruhito, became the new emperor. This means that the country has both a new ruler and has started a new era, ending the Heisei era that started in 1989 and beginning the Reiwa era.

  This brings up an interesting question though. What are the major Japanese eras? Many anime fans will know terms like “Warring States period” and maybe “Showa era,” and may even know some of the important names or characteristics, but when does each era occur in relation to the others, what was happening in the world in general at the time and most importantly: what anime can I watch that depicts each era?

    Keep in mind that many of these periods of history last for centuries and so no characterization is going to be perfectly accurate. Society changes a little with each generation, so the early Edo period of the 1600’s is almost certainly significantly different than the late Edo of the 1850’s.

      Also, technically each emperor is given their own era, hence why Akihito’s Heisei is ending and Naruhito’s Reiwa is beginning, however for the sake of not turning this article into a history book, we will be talking about the major historical periods, and only focusing on each emperor’s era for the most recent few.

  Chronologically, the earliest parts of Japanese history, collectively known as ancient Japan, are the Jomon, Yayoi and Kofun eras. Jomon is the oldest, going from 10,000 to 800 B.C. In terms of the rest of the world, by 800 B.C. Chinese alchemists had made gunpowder and Rome was about to be founded.

    No anime have been explicitly set in the Jomon era, however the era’s dogu figurines, one of its most well known styles of art, have been depicted in shows like Digimon via Shakkoumon and Pokémon, with Claydol.

  The Yayoi era takes up the next 600 years, from 300 B.C. to 300 A.D. This is when various practices made their way to Japan, like metallurgy and hierarchical class structure. In other parts of the world: Christianity started, Julius Caesar’s reign happened and China entered its Three Kingdoms era.

    In terms of anime, while not set in Japan, Kingdom is set in the Chinese warring states era, which ended in the 4th century B.C., which is still in the early Yayoi period. Meanwhile, Osamu Tezuka’s Phoenix is set in a few different eras, with the one of the arcs, specifically the Dawn arc, being in the Yayoi era. In 2004, the manga received an anime adaptation, and earlier this year Media Blasters announced that they were re-licensing the title to make Blu-rays available for the first time.

    The final era of ancient Japan is the Kofun era, from 300 A.D. to 538 A.D., when the country became more politically centralized with the start of the first Imperial government. The name of the era comes from the Kofun mounds where important figures were buried. Elsewhere, the huns were attacking India and Rome, Zen Buddhism entered Korea and Chichen Itza was founded in modern day Mexico.

  Unfortunately, there do not appear to be any anime that have adapted the Kofun era. Even Phoenix, despite covering eras both before and after Kofun, seems to skip over this time period.

    Next is Classical Japan, with the Asuka, Nara and Heian eras. The Asuka era lasted from 538 to 710, during which the arts were greatly affected by the influx of Buddhism, and the country’s name changed from Wa to Nihon. In the rest of the world, Italy reunified under the Byzantine Empire, the Islamic prophet Muhammad is born and wet field rice cultivation flourished.

  For anime, Phoenix comes back to life as quite possible the only show that has adapted the era, specially the Sun arc for the Asuka era.

    Nara, which lasted from 710 to 794, is known for the Imperial Court creating the first Japanese literature and Buddhism finally gaining more followers due to the emperor being Buddhist. Meanwhile, the Ghana empire began and the Iberian Peninsula begins to be ruled by Berber Muslims.

  Outside of potentially some children’s manga though, like the Kofun era, there seriously don’t seem to be any anime set in the Nara era.

  Japan’s classical era ended with the Heian era from 794 to 1185, during which Buddhism and the Imperial Court were at their peak, Charlemagne was crowned Roman emperor, the Norse became Normans, the University of Oxford began teaching and anime finally had something to adapt. This is the era Shounen Onmyoji and Otogi Zoshi are set, among others.

    After the Heian era are the Kamakura, Muromachi and Azuchi-Momoyama eras, collectively known as Medieval Japan. In general, these eras are known as when the shogunate and samurai became prominent.

  The Kamakura era, from 1185 to 1333, saw the rise of the Kamakura shogunate, emergence of samurai and establishment of the feudal system. In the rest of the world, Richard I was crowned king of England, Genghis Khan was declared Great Khan of the Mongols and the Ottoman Empire was established.

  Like with many of the ancient eras, not many anime are explicitly set in the Kamakura era. One exception is Kurozuka, a show about a man in the 12th century who finds out he is unable to die and so watches Japan develop for the next 1,000 years.

    The Kenmu Restoration, which lasted the next three years, was an attempt to put the Imperial Court back in power, and ultimately led to the next Shogunate.

  The Muromachi era and shogunate lasted until 1573 with a succession of 15 shoguns. The last shogun was driven out of the capitol by Oda Nobunaga, starting the Azuchi-Momoyama era, which most people probably recognize more as when Nobunaga and company ended the Warring States era (which had lasted 150 years through half of the Muromachi era) and reunited Japan. When Tokugawa Ieyasu took over and started the Tokugawa shogunate, the Edo period and Japan’s isolationism policy officially began, lasting from 1603 to 1868.

  The reason why these three eras are combined instead of each getting their own sections is because they are collectively known as Japan’s feudal era, one of the most popular time periods for anime.

    If a show looks like it’s set in the past and the characters are wandering the countryside from village to village, there’s a good chance it’s set during the Warring States period, even if it has more magical or fantastic elements. If the show ever mentions the Shinsengumi, it’s probably set sometime during the Edo period or shortly after.

  Most anime set in feudal Japan tend to keep the exact era obscured, instead just showing that the setting is somewhere in that almost 400 year timeframe or heavily inspired by the politics and history of feudal Japan in general, like how Gintama is technically set shortly after the Edo era, so still has a Shogunate and the Shinsengumi, but is also set in a world where aliens conquered Earth. Of the shows that make the timing clearer, the likes of Inuyasha and Dororo are set in the Warring States era while Samurai Champloo and Mononoke are in the Edo period.

    The Edo period ended when people loyal to the emperor overthrew the shogunate to reinstate the Imperial Court, leading to the Meiji Restoration and subsequent era. During the Meiji era, which lasted from 1868 to 1912, Japan emerged from its isolation and ended its feudal system, influenced by more Western ideas.

  In terms of anime, this is the set piece for the likes of Rurouni Kenshin and Golden Kamuy.

    After the Meiji era come the Taisho, Showa and Heisei eras of the 1900’s and 2000’s, with Taisho going from 1912 to 1926, Showa lasting until 1989, and Heisei ending this year on April 30th, 2019.

  The Taisho era established the Imperial Diet of Japan and democratic political parties. The Showa era lasted through World War II, and as a result saw a drastic shift in Japanese society eventually resulting in a parliamentary democracy replacing the Imperial government and a massive economic boom in the latter half of the era.

    This season’s Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba is set in the Taisho era. For Showa era shows, Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju and Baccano! are two of the bigger names. Moving into the Heisei era, pretty much anything set in the modern day qualifies.

  The Heisei era is still a part of modern memory, so it is difficult to know how it will be remembered in history, however the transition between Heisei and the new Reiwa era is the first time an emperor has abdicated the throne rather than the new emperor ascending soon after the previous one died.

  And that leads into the current Reiwa era. Since even anime set in modern times typically lags behind current events by a few months or years, nothing is explicitely set in the new era yet, but any slice of life show set in a highschool where the school year just started will be a good contendor for the first ones to cross that line, as one month into the current Japanese school year (specifically at the end of Golden Week) everyone in the country should get a bit of extra time off as the new emporer takes the throne, prompting a national holiday and extension of the students' study time in preparation for their upcoming exams.

    That takes us all the way through Japanese history, from the ancient artifacts of the Jomon era to the smartphones of the modern Reiwa era. There are still the science fiction shows set in the future, but since those eras are yet to come, they do not fall in the scope of this article. Now, all that's left is to watch how the modern era turns out and see how anime in the coming seasons and years deal with new history being made.

  Do you know of any anime set in ancient Japan that I missed? Any standouts from classical or medieval Japan? Let me know in the comments below!

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Kevin Matyi is a freelance features writer for Crunchyroll. He's been watching anime for as long as he can remember, and his favorite shows tend to be shonen and other action series.

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features! 

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[signor-signor]

Trending 27th (July 2018)

Believe it or else, three years have passed since Disney made the biggest mistake in the history of television animation in the 2010s: canceling the well-received Wander Over Yonder before the second season got the chance to prove itself (and several months after the third season was fully conceived).

So, what would my reaction be if a third season of Wander Over Yonder were to happen? The answer is quite simple.

I would rejoice!

Let me expand on my answer, though, in a way that explains why I still support the show.

Before 2008, I had little-to-no interest in Disney Channel because of its heavy reliance on live-action sitcoms. I had no reason to tune into that channel back then, but a certain animated show about a couple of stepbrothers finding ways to spend summer vacation came along and made me change my mind. When I discovered Phineas and Ferb, I was in for a treat. An original premise, quirky characters, subplots connecting with main plots, unique feats not possible in live-action shows... P&F had the whole kit and caboodle and was the one show I would watch whenever a new episode came on.

Then in 2010, we got Fish Hooks. While it had certain moments I would love to forget, it did have a diverse cast of water-dwelling characters living in a pet shop and focused on the life and times of three high school fish. That might be why I kept tuning into the show for new episodes, which, consequently, might have contributed to its chance at getting a third season, giving the show the privilege of spanning four years of high school.

Believe it or not, one thing that got me interested in Gravity Falls in 2012 was the fact that its creator happened to be the voice of Clamantha from Fish Hooks. I never knew Alex Hirsch was capable of doing many voices. I often think of the voice of Grunkle Stan as his take on Krusty the Klown from The Simpsons. And I did find his voice for Soos fun to hear and imitate. I think what got me even more interested back then was the involvement of Matt Chapman, one of the many men of hundreds of voices and one of the two brothers who created the Homestar Runner body of work, which I’ve been following since 2003. That, and cryptic codes you find in the credits. Truth be told, I had no idea how much of an impact it would have among viewers.

These are just three animated shows that had me stay tuned on the Disney Channel before mid-2013. This leads us to my rising interest in Wander Over Yonder, which also premiered in 2013 on said channel. Knowing this was a feel-good kind of show starring Jack McBrayer and created by @crackmccraigen, the experienced genius behind The Powerpuff Girls and Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, I would be a total fool for missing out on it. The characters are diverse and so are the environments. There’s always something brand-spanking new in every episode. I cannot tell a lie. It’s the funniest, cleverest, and most well thought-out cartoon I’ve ever watched. Considering the other Disney shows in the resurgence weren’t in jeopardy, I was sure Disney had succeeded in boosting my interest in their animated fare. Regardless of hiatuses, I saw no signs of the company lousing up their shows’ schedules. I actually thought the show would be too good to fail even after the move to Disney XD in early 2014.

Even though the three aforementioned shows weren’t as impressive as WOY animation-wise and humor-wise, I’d managed to catch up on them. I also watched The 7D, Penn Zero: Part-Time Hero, and Star vs. the Forces of Evil on Disney XD, all because the company was going in the right direction. Like many viewers, I was completely unaware of the actions the heads of Disney were going to take, one of which involved choosing one or a few over the others.

When I got the news of WOY getting a second season (and the 11 1-minute shorts that preceded it), I made sure not to miss it because I enjoyed the first season. Before the bad news broke out in March of 2016, I had already moved on from Fish Hooks, Phineas and Ferb, and Gravity Falls because they had absolutely no unfinished business after they ended properly. When I found via DaBurninator’s DeviantArt account that Wander got canceled one week before S2 started even though a whole third season was planned out in early 2015, I became puzzled and felt betrayed. It’s like the Disney bosses didn’t give any thought to how the fans would feel. “Disney, how could you?” I thought. I had other questions in mind.

“What about Fish Hooks? It may not be as popular as Phineas and Ferb, but it got 3 seasons!”

“What makes them think there’s no need to make more episodes?”

“What did we ever do to be denied to know what happens after the second season?”

“Do they know what Craig went through to get his third season pitch together?”

Craig has been in the business for more than 20 years and his amazing ideas for S3 get snubbed by a company with the notion of dreams coming true? That is absolutely unheard of. He hasn’t done anything wrong before and after leaving Cartoon Network. Sure, he had a student film with an inappropriate title that got a much more suitable name when he got started with Hanna-Barbera, but I know dang well he was giving his all to make one of the best shows in the history of Disney television. He was trying to make a show that takes place in outer space, utilizes characters with structures that follow the “lava lamp theory,” and mixes hilarity and critical thinking. He was making for Disney a show that could leave a good impression on the viewers and show them that kindness can be a good thing. No other show by Disney could ever offer the same satisfaction demonstrated in WOY, that’s why I currently have little-to-no interest in Disney shows not created by Craig. I still suspect the higher Disney bosses like Fish Hooks more than they like WOY.

If people had no interest or faith in WOY, would they have allowed songs from My Fair Hatey to be recorded at Capitol Records? The point is, if the WOY crew members went above and beyond to make WOY good, we MUST give it tons of attention! I still do.

Back to my answer to the question of Trending 27th. If a third season of WOY were to ever happen, I would rejoice by hugging everyone around me and spreading the word. If I made doubly sure that it is the case, I’d probably happily laugh in hysterics, but that’d be because after years of putting up with the popularity of higher-rated Disney shows (especially GF and SvtFoE) and inspiring WOY fans to fight harder, I would know all our efforts would have finally paid off. I’d also have renewed my trust in Disney television.

Just imagine, the lips of Craig and his crew would be unsealed and we would finally get to witness these things in S3.

•The first scene consisting of Dominator grumpily orbbling through space (and maybe looking at the picture she took in The Flower)

•A new angle that’s “delightfully petty but wholly Dominator”

•The construction and launch of The Star Nomad (thanks to Future-Worm, we know who owns it)

•The space primate

•The threat worse than Dominator

•Peepers’s arc

•More Wander/Sylvia/Hater/Peepers team-ups

•More info on Demurra and Dracor’s children

•More Eye on the Skullship

•Emperor Awesome’s “ultimate comeuppance”

•Major Threat being a recurring character

•Returning characters (like the Black Cube, Ripov, Neckbeard, to name a few)

•What the other villains have been up to since The Bad Neighbors

•New characters (that means new ALFs - Alien Life Forms)

•Possibly a new musical

•Lord Hater’s origin story and how he and Peepers met (still waiting for it!)

•And most important, Wander being tested in a cool way

•And also most important, a message saying, “Thanks for watching!”

Get the picture? We would see all this and more become a reality if we leave shows with no unfinished business alone, ease up on shows that aren’t in danger of cancellation, and pay more attention to discontinued shows calling for proper closure. We can’t stand idly by while that space pod accident remains unexplained. We must let Disney know there IS a need for one more season (or TV movie) so we can see WOY end properly before Craig decides to retire.