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fanficsiwillneverwrite · 2 months

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On my umpteenth rewatch of lok, I had a sudden interest in old Zuko…. And let’s just say another wip is brewing in my brain now about Zuko and his involvement in book 3 :/

Zuko looks in the mirror and sees only a face he no longer recognizes: old, long past its prime. An old wound haunting him, even how many years later. It happened so long ago; only yesterday. Shaky hands rub the rough skin as the memory takes hold. It was for the better, he once told himself long ago. It led him on the path of good, toward the light. But the thought of giving such a punishment to Izumi… He admittedly was not perfect when it came to raising her, but he was no Ozai.

Through the reflection, he sees Akari, the Firelord’s senior aide, emerge from the golden doors. “Lord Zuko,” she says with a respectful and low bow. Her voice is distant, muffled, despite being so near. Just a reminder of his aging body. “The Firelord will see you now.”

He nods, acknowledging her, but his focus remains on the stranger–no, the old man–staring back at him, copying every move he makes. Akari backs away to give him space. And he touches a few wrinkles. Uncle always said they were a sign of living, far better than the alternative. His laughter still echoes in his mind; the steam of hot tea still lingers around him.

He moves away from his reflection and into the throne room where his daughter sits high above him in all her glory. Zuko smiles as he bows–and his old bones crack as he bends. Another reminder that the old man in the mirror and the boy who thought his destiny was to capture the Avatar were one in the same. “The Firelord has requested an audience with me. I would be interested in knowing what for.”

“Hello Dad,” greets Izumi gently as she stands. She approaches him, a familiar look of care mixed with concern permanently captures her face each time she looks at him. He knows it well. Old age brings on pity. No, Uncle would say, old age brings on care. They hug and, suddenly, he is drunk with the scent of familiarity. Once Mai’s favorite perfume worn now by a grieving daughter who wants only to keep her mother close. “How are you?”

“I am fine, daughter,” he assures, his hand squeezing her shoulder as if to emphasize the fact. Sadness lingers around them with Mai’s passing just over a year ago. “Though, perhaps it is I who should be asking you that very question. Avatar Korra has led us into a new age where spirits and mankind must now live together in harmony. As the Firelord, it is your duty to make her decision a reality. With some guidance from me, of course, if it doesn’t interfere with my nap time.”

She rolls her eyes as a smile forms. “I think sometimes I can make better sense of your snoring than your political babble,” she teases.

“Be careful what you say next, daughter,” he shoots back. “I still have claim to the throne, you know.”

“Like I’d give it back,” she tells him playfully. But her face turns serious. And like a stuck bandage, the news of why she has summoned him is ripped open quickly to ease the anticipation: “I’ve just received word from President Raiko in Republic City. It seems… Harmonic Convergence has brought back the Airbenders.”

His heart feels as if it has sunk. The Fire Nation’s greatest burden, their deepest regret—now, so suddenly, fixed? He would have to see it to believe it, especially if Raiko is the one reporting it. All the man cares about is the votes. “What?”

“I haven’t yet received word from Tenzin, but there has been at least one Airbender sighting in Caldera alone. Most, it seems, are in the Earth Kingdom.”

“That could mean trouble.”

The Earth Queen remains bitter over land now the United Republic of Nations and everything surrounding it, Air Temple Island included: Earth Kingdom territory, she makes false claims. While her father was timid, mostly oblivious as a leader, Hou-Ting is loud, demanding, and a complete tyrant.

Zuko turns, hurrying out the room. There is no time to waste. “I’ll head straight to Ba Sing Se—”

His daughter is quick to stop him. “The Fire Nation should not have any involvement there, dad. You know this.” His intent would be to liberate this new wave of Airbenders from the grasps of great tyrannical power, but the world might view it as another Firelord’s attempt to again dismantle the Air Nation. He blinks, seeing clearly now as his daughter faces him again. “Furthermore,” Izumi continues cautiously; they’re always dancing around his state of retirement. The nation is hers–it is her birthright–but he makes diplomatic trips around the world to assure peace, to continue what he and Avatar Aang started so long ago, yesterday. “A man your age should really be fretting over pai sho and gardening. Not the state of the world.”

The man she is describing is Uncle. Not him, never him. “I will not turn my back on the world when it still needs me,” Zuko insists. His reflection shows an achy old man with a story long ago completed, but as long as his heart still beats and the fire still burns, he can be useful.

“I know,” she says, “but… you can only do so much before it becomes too overwhelming for you.” She adjusts her glasses as a sigh escapes her. “Dad, I care only for your safety–”

“I am still capable–”

“–which is why I think it perfectly sensible for you to take in a ward.”

He stops, hurt–offended. “A-a ward?”

“One of Master Muromachi’s young pupils,” she continues. “Someone who can be your companion. Someone who will watch your back and defend you when you’re unable.”

Zuko huffs, rubbing his forehead in frustration. His daughter thinks him unable, an invalid of his craft now just because of a few wrinkles. Spirits! He is Lord Zuko, Leader of the Fire Nation and the Avatar’s Firebending Master. And she thinks he needs a sidekick? Some noble boy defending his honor? “No, absolutely not. I don’t need some child protecting me.”

Izumi rolls her eyes. “This isn’t a suggestion, dad. Master Muromachi is expecting you. We’ll go down there this afternoon.”

He stomps away stubbornly, like a child not getting his way. The roles were reversed long ago, just yesterday when he was still in charge, when he was still capable. “I can choose my own ward, can’t I?”

“Of course–”

“Then I’ll go on my own, if it pleases the Firelord.”

He exits before she can answer. Anger boils within him. He hates being the man who is old, the man who needs help. Most of his friends are gone now and this new generation is perfectly competent, his daughter being one of them, but the fire still burns inside him. The face in the mirror is the face he saw long ago–yesterday–when there was no scar.

The Fire Nation Academy for Gifted Boys is a secondary school for sons of nobles. It teaches Nonbenders how to fight through the art of swordsmanship. Only the best, or most wealthy, can attend. And the training is rigorous, not for the faint hearted. Tom-Tom became one of the academy’s pupils when he came of age, mastering sword fighting at the age of fourteen. Firelord Ozai always dismissed the school’s teachings, saying Nonbenders could never truly be masters without the ability of bending. In his final years, without his bending, his father learned the way of the sword, though he never tried to understand the relationship between a man and his blade, thus never becoming a full master of the craft.

These days the school is just as rigorous with Master Muromachi, a stern and, dare he say, cruel man, in charge of this new generation of fighters. The boys stand straight in a line when Lord Zuko arrives. Eyes forward, not one hair out of place, not a single crease in their suits. Their movements are in sync as they all bow low when Muromachi introduces him to them.

“You have honored this school with your presence, Lord Zuko,” Muromachi says with a bow of his own. He moves aside for Zuko to properly examine his students. “Please, choose anyone you think is worthy.” He gestures to the tallest of the group: tan skinned and golden eyed, Zuko sees a darkness in him that brings only suspicion. The way the boy eyes him; it’s not like the others. “Eigo here is our star pupil.”

“Is that so?”

Muromachi gestures again and Eigo assumes a fighting stance as he draws his sword. He dances with it around Zuko–impressive but, still, there is something about him that he doesn’t quite like–before returning to his spot in line.

“Very good,” Zuko tells him, “though I find your lack of moderation rather… unsettling.”

The boy’s expression darkens at the criticism. Not suitable for his company at all. Muromachi moves on without a visible reaction: “Pao,” he calls. And the next boy moves skillfully around the room with his blades. A mindless routine, practiced over and over again until perfection. He does what he is told and nothing more.

“Your moves, though highly skillful, lack originality,” Zuko notes. He will find something wrong for each of them. He does not need a protector, nor does he want one.

Muromachi becomes more tense as they move down the line, each boy weaker than the last. This Academy is a show and these so-called warriors are nothing more than performers this day in age, not like how they used to be, he will tell his daughter later over tea. That is why he did not choose a child today. That is why he should not have a ward.

Finally, they arrive at the last: the smallest of the group. A softness exists within him that the other boys do not have. Short hair above his ears cut in a wonky bowl shape and fierce blue eyes with a sparkle in them that shows he is ready, not to win but to fight for what is right—he knows those eyes. It hits him, suddenly. A girl, disguised as a young boy.

“Lee!” orders Muromachi, sweating profusely at this point. Zuko instantly understands the name is false, an alias to hide her true nature.

And the girl disguised as a boy begins her dance around Zuko. Her movements are hesitant. She nearly trips over her own two feet. Her two swords do not move together as one but rather as completely separate entities. An amateur compared to her peers. Muromachi is visibly appalled by her performance, but remains silent out of respect for his guest. Zuko, admittedly, is intrigued by the girl. Why would she openly go through such turmoil?

#zuko #prince zuko #lord Zuko #old zuko #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #legend of korra #lok #lok fanfic #atla #avatar the last airbender #also like I’m sorry for all the wips I’m pumping out but life is just up and down right now so

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fanficsiwillneverwrite · 3 months

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Thinking of a funny scene where 12 borrows Clara’s phone to call up library data-saved River Song to get help for something (idk) but gets side-tracked while talking to her, and I just had to write it out before I closed my eyes (and yes this scene will be in this fic, if I can fit it in)

“What am I wearing?” The Doctor shifts, examining his clothing carefully. He pinches the fabric on his waistcoat. “Oh, the usual suit—the black one. Feeling a bit bloated today. You know.” Clara looks away, feeling like she’s intruding. And hoping it doesn’t go further. “No, no… not a perception filter. Not this time, sweetie.” Maybe she should leave, quietly and without being noticed. “Oh, you want me to put on the scarf again, do you?” He laughs like all the flirtatious men she’s met in the pub, all only wanting one thing. Her face warms at the thought of the Doctor being the one to want it, and her stomach tightens. “Okay. I’ll wear the scarf, if you want me to wear the scarf.” He moves toward his wardrobe, but halts, surprised, when he spots Clara still standing near the console. He covers the phone and speaks directly to her: “Sorry, getting a bit personal here. Do you mind…?” And he points to the door. Clara nods awkwardly, her face going hot. And she practically runs to the exit, not wanting to be there a second longer. “Oh—wait, Clara. Can your phone send holographic images through the intergalactic channel?” He quickly waves the thought away before she can answer, continuing up the steps without a second glance. “Never mind. I’ll fix it if it doesn’t.” His attention goes back to River quickly. He giggles at whatever she said—she did not know the Doctor could giggle. “I’m putting on the scarf. But it’s a no on the silly bow tie.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #river song #12th doctor/river song #12th doctor #twelfth doctor x river song #twelfth doctor

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fanficsiwillneverwrite · 3 months

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“Can we go now? People in the twenty-first century smell.”

“We do not,” says Clara, offended. She turns to the Doctor for reassurance.

But he hesitates. “There is… a stench,” he confirms after a long moment.

#crying laughing at my own writing because of course the doctor would say that #this is an undeveloped sneak peek at ch2 of the fic I just posted #doctor who #12th doctor #twelfth doctor #twelve #dw #dw fanfic #doctor who fanfiction #fanfiction #clara oswin

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fanficsiwillneverwrite · 3 months

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This fic is loosely based on this post I made about the 12th doctor’s grumpy man arc in Capaldi’s first season and how I wished the story would have played out

#fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #ao3 #river song #12th doctor #dw #12th Doctor/river song #12th Doctor x river song #twelth doctor #twelfth doctor #twelfth Doctor x river song #oc #own character

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fanficsiwillneverwrite · 4 months

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A disgruntled cab driver shouts profanities at the Doctor as he exits the Tardis. And he waves at him, carelessly, obliviously. He’s parked in the middle of the road.Again.

People stare as he licks his finger then checks the air. “Oh. Don’t tell me. Don’t tell me,” he says, approaching a less than enthused couple walking the pavement. “New York”—and a car honks furiously as it's forced to maneuver around the Tardis—“City. Manhattan.” The man shoves him; the woman clutches her purse. They speed off, and the Doctor moves onto the next person: an elderly woman with a lumpy tote bag. He sniffs the air. “Ooh, New Year's Eve. What fun!” She hits him with her bag. He recovers, easily, and dances onto the next person waking past, a teenage boy with ripped jeans and a mullet. “1987! Wonderful!”

He spots River smirking at him in the distance, her diary in hand. She tried to kill Hitler and nearly succeeded in ending his own life last he saw her, and now she’s here undoubtedly causing chaos in New York. Her eyes brighten as he approaches; she’s still so new. She doesn’t know him yet. Not really. “Hello sweetie,” she greets in her usual way.

She moves in for a kiss and he nearly gives in before memories of their last encounter come flooding back to him. Poison. Regeneration. All that Time Lord mumbo-jumbo. He slides a finger in between their lips to stop the motion. And they stand like that, frozen in time as New Yorkers shove past them uncaring. River’s brow furrows in confusion. But he’s already moving on, his attention now on the cold wind blowing around them. “Thursday. 7PM.” He skips away, giddy. “Oh, wonderful. Just wonderful!”

She frowns, following. “What is?”

“Oh, nothing,” he says as he begins to hop, having been distracted by a smeared hopscotch chalk drawing along the path. “Just the end of the world is all. I’ll get to it eventually.”

She stops. “Eventually?”

He waves it off, uncaring. “Yeah. I’m handling it.”

She opens her mouth to protest. He kisses her so there’s no lecture. Oh, how he hates lectures. River melts in his arms and suddenly all he cares about is how perfectly well they fit together, her hands on his cheeks, his arms wrapped around her waist. They’re the only people in this universe—

“Coming through!” And they break apart quickly as some pink blob skateboards pass them. It’s a girl. A young one at that. Younger than his usual crowd, which is odd. She holds up the Doctor’s psychic paper as people frantically jump out of her way. “Don’t wanna die? Move out of my way!”

The Doctor laughs, pointing at the girl. “See, I told you I was handling it.”

“Who was that?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

#river song #the doctor #11th doctor #dw #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction #wip #fanfcition

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fanficsiwillneverwrite · 4 months

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I’m just gonna be doctor who trash for the next few weeks I guess

A disgruntled cab driver shouts profanities at the Doctor as he exits the Tardis. And he waves, completely oblivious. He’s parked in the middle of the street.

Again.

People stare as he licks his finger to check the air. “Oh. Don’t tell me. Don’t tell me,” he says, approaching a less than enthused couple walking the pavement. “New York”—and a car honks furiously as it's forced to maneuver around the Tardis—“City. Manhattan.” The man shoves him; the woman clutches her purse. They speed off, and the Doctor moves on to the next person: an elderly woman with a lumpy tote bag. He sniffs the air around her. “Ooh, New Year's Eve. What fun!” She hits him with her bag. He recovers, easily, and dances on to observe the next person waking past, a teenage boy with ripped jeans and a mullet. “1987! Wonderful!”

He spots River smirking at him in the distance, her diary in hand. She tried to kill Hitler and nearly succeeded in ending his own life last he saw of her, and now she’s here causing chaos in New York. Her eyes brighten as he approaches; she’s still so new. She doesn’t know him yet. Not really. “Hello sweetie,” she greets in her usual way.

She moves in for a kiss and he nearly gives in before memories of their last encounter come flooding back to him. Poison. Regeneration. All that Time Lord mumbo-jumbo. He slides a finger in between their lips to stop the motion. And they stand like that, frozen in time as New Yorkers shove past them uncaring. River’s brow furrows in confusion. But he’s already moving on, his attention now on the cold wind blowing around them. “Thursday. 10 PM.” He skips away, giddy. “Oh, wonderful. Just wonderful!”

She frowns, following. “What is?”

#fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #doctor who #river song #11th Doctor #the doctor #doctor who fanfiction #dw fanfic #dw fandom #wip #work in progress

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fanficsiwillneverwrite · 4 months

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#doctor who #river song #14th doctor #15th doctor #rory williams #amy pond #doctor who fanfiction #dw fanfic #dw #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

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fanficsiwillneverwrite · 4 months

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Sort of part 3 (with grammatical errors and rewrites and all that wip mess).

When/if it gets all done, I’ll post on ao3. I just sort of like the idea of the 14th doctor tying up loose ends with all his previous companions, just hanging out and catching up. Also, I love River Song and I think this could be a believable way of bringing her back, in my head, at least ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And (this I think is an unpopular opinion) I LOVE the idea of River Song eventually living a mundane life with her parents, settling down to take care of them in their old age.

Like, the doctor has just been spending billions of years thinking she’s dead and he’s never going to see her again, but really she only spent about 2 weeks in the library before he comes back to save her and she’s just been living in the 1980s, taking care of her elderly parents this entire time

#fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who #river song #amy pond #rory williams #14th doctor #wip #work in progress #script format

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fanficsiwillneverwrite · 4 months

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Part 2 of this

#fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #doctor who #the doctor #14th doctor #river song #doctor who fanfiction #dw #script format

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fanficsiwillneverwrite · 5 months

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#fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #doctor who #14th doctor #doctor who fanfiction #dw #script format #rough draft

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fanficsiwillneverwrite · 5 months

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#god of war fanfiction #god of war #god of war ragnarok #kratos x freya #kratos #freya #atreus #mimir #gow #gow fanfiction #gow ragnarok

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fanficsiwillneverwrite · 5 months

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The 14th doctor meets river song

this fanfic idea has been brewing for quite some time and the ending of the recent special has only fueled the fire. I like the idea of the 14th doctor just existing to tie up loose ends from previous companions (and maybe start going to therapy).

He scanned the door. The piece of metal hadn’t been used in aeons. Getting it open would take some time. He decided to distract the boy with conversation to ease his nerves: “Where’re you from? What’s your story?”

The boy hesitated. And the Doctor pretended like he didn’t notice, continued working as if nothing happened.

“Spoilers,” he answered after a moment.

“Haven’t heard that in ages…” And suddenly it hit him. He stepped away, turning again to the boy. “River Song?” And the boy smiled, as if confirming what the Doctor was thinking. He squinted, examining him—her? Resisting the urge to do a full biological scan right then and there. Invasion of privacy. Probably. “You’re not implying… you’re River Song?”

“No—I mean, yeah… if you wanna get technical.”

Something boiled inside him. A rage at this imitation, this trickery, this… impostor. “Oh, I do want to get technical.”

The boy shrugged. “The name suits me fine. I don’t think she had any other names picked out, to tell you the truth. I wasn’t exactly planned.”

“So, you’re River Song… Junior, then? Is that what you’re saying?” It did sound like her to name her child after herself, he would give the boy that. But River was in the library. Not quite dead… or, at least, her memory still lived on. Did his future self somehow find a way to bring her back, to save her?

“So many men name their sons after themselves but it’s the women who give birth, gran always says.”

Gran? Amy.

Something inside him twisted. And he paused, then started scanning the boy. Privacy be damned. He needed to get to the bottom of this. If it was some kind of trick… “River Song doesn’t have any children. I should know. I’m her husband—”

“Ex-husband.” The words were like knives, empaling his beating hearts. And he stopped, eyes now focused on River. “Like I told you… spoilers.”

#doctor who #the doctor #river song #14th doctor #fanfiction #doctor who fanfiction #fanfic #wip #work in progress

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