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captainsimagines · 2 years

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dreaming in june || two

Summary: Alive for centuries, you’ve navigated this world in all its singularities, all its multitudes. You’ve avoided, intercepted, and learned the meaning of loss. At the request of an old friend who now happens to be the new Captain America, you move to a place that only vaguely feels peaceful, to secretly protect his best friend. There you meet Bucky Barnes, your next door neighbor, who has also lived countless lives, seen a lot of things, and lost the one he loved. You have more in common than you thought.

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x (F) POC Enhanced Reader

Based on the Song(s): Heat Waves by Glass Animals and iann dior ; Coney Island by Taylor Swift and The National

Series / AO3 Link

(2/15)

Warnings: mentions of genocide; canon-typical violence; mentions of blood and mild gore; tattoos?; past original male character introduction; discussions of infertility; death/resurrection; death by hanging; strong language; alcohol abuse — Please take these warnings seriously. I do not describe gory details, but it's still a lot.

Word Count: 9,400+

Author's Note: We still sad in here. But hey, gotta build a world! If this fic doesn’t show up because of any tags since the new update, I will also be posting this fic on AO3. My AO3 is @/byMoni. I do not have all my fanfics uploaded there for a reason, but it’s mainly the same masterlist. :) xxMoni

"History is violent. That's why they choose specific people to tell it."

1525

The trees sound different. They make this slight whistle noise, like a long melody that bumps off near the end, obstructed. But they speak kindly from what you hear, compliments and thank yous, and good nights.

The air is fresher, too. There’s less people sharing the same area, less crowds, less everything. It’s a bittersweet reality, but it’s impossible not to notice. So you don’t revel in the feeling for much longer than you should. Too guilty. Druig says everyone will make this home soon enough. The word ‘home’ isn’t the right one, but you know what he means.

When a home is lost, you must search for another. Another roof, another community, another feeling of normalcy. Anything.

You shake your head, as if to do away with the sudden image of one man in particular, but it’s become increasingly difficult to do so. You long for the types of nightmares that are difficult to discern, where faces and names mash into an unrecognizable combination. At least those nightmares are easier to forget.

You slowly climb down from your favorite tree. It complains when you step on that wobbly branch, like you’re pulling on her ligaments, so you’ve made it a point to avoid it. You use the most sturdy branches, watching your palms and soles of your feet, until you’re back on the damp soil below. You pat its trunk gently, grinning as a vibrating hum greets your ears.

The tribe is getting everything ready for tonight’s meal. The women are grinding the corn, the men are roasting the freshest vegetables they picked yesterday, and the children are running wild and lending a hand when told.

Druig hasn’t returned from his morning journey, but you don’t worry much. He mentioned how he was traveling farther than usual today. A neighboring tribe was offering their resources and were thinking of forming an alliance. They too were cast out of their land and traveled far. Druig says the more, the stronger. He promises he doesn’t mean war, just that more people helps our minds grow, our hearts to expand, and our community to flourish.

It isn’t until after the meal that Druig returns, and he’s not alone. There are, maybe, sixty to seventy people following him. From their states of dress and language they are speaking, it’s obvious this tribe isn’t related to yours. But they walk with small smiles, bags thrown over their shoulders, children on hips.

“They are good people,” Druig tells you privately, bowing his head. You glance outside your tent for another quick scan. The new guests are eating quietly. Their Chief oversees them, refusing a plate until all his people eat.

“I am not disputing that,” you answer. Druig takes a moment, translating your words in his mind, then smiles. He catches a little sarcasm: you, of all people he knows, would never assume otherwise.

Druig nods. “They only have one request.”

Your eyebrows raise. “So soon?”

“It is a reasonable one. For them, at least,” Druig chuckles lowly and reaches for your hands. He holds them as he speaks. “They are for uniting our tribes. Their beliefs are much similar to ours. But they request a special union.”

“Ah, that kind of request.”

It’s not a major surprise. As a princess, this has always been in your cards. You’re just happy it’s going to be with someone with similar beliefs, and not who your father was planning on. No matter how many times you tried to convince him that Spain was not a likely ally, he ignored the warnings.

“You can always deny,” Druig clarifies. “The Chief’s son is near your age, slightly older, and I spoke with him on the journey back. His spirit sounds like yours.”

“Is he…?”

Druig shakes his head. No, he is not gifted like you. An ungifted paired with a gifted is a symbol of good luck, a healthy balance, a chance to obtain anything other than a perfect hundred percent. Druig looks pleased at the sound of your sigh of relief.

“Shall I introduce you?”

You breathe in deeply. “It is my duty.”

Before Druig steps out of the tent, he shoots you a determined stare. “You always have a choice.”

You only respond by nodding. Druig leaves you alone in the tent, head raised as he crosses over to the Chief and his son. You know you should restrain yourself, probably sit idly by and wait for their arrival, but the tension is making you go crazy. This is to be your husband, someone to share power with, share everything with. It’s mainly to unite the two tribes, to grow in number, to build a community where your culture isn’t abandoned or destroyed. Your main prospects back ‘home’ were minimal, some second cousins and Spanish generals, who your father was forcing upon you until his death.

You shudder, the cool night air nipping at your cheeks. You don’t blame your father, not one bit — you genuinely believed the Spanish would back off as well. There were more of you than them, the council had a plan to expel them, and then it just… fell apart.

There was so much chaos, so much blood, so much noise that you couldn’t concentrate. The wind was screaming at you to guide the people you had gathered one way, then the path closed, and it screamed at you to go another. You had met Druig only a few times before when he arrived years before the Spanish. He settled, became a friend and confidant, and never reached for the throne. His friends acted the same, but Druig was different. He promises, with all his being, that he has never influenced your mind or your father’s. And as weird as it sounds, he has a pout that makes you believe his word as sacred.

Now, peeking through one of the tent’s flaps, you feel nothing but calmness. Because this isn’t some Spanish general who hasn’t bothered learning your language, or treating you with the respect bestowed upon you, or failing to promise peace — this man, who stands proud, who begins to strip his heavy layers, is perhaps one of the most beautiful men you have ever seen. And he jokes as he strips, nudging his friend’s shoulders as they tease him, speaking with and answering the children as they ask him what he is doing. He sheds his bottom layers, undergarments still on, and almost trips as he raises one leg. The Chief scolds him for being so clumsy, but Druig just smirks. The Chief’s son looks around to see if anyone caught his mistake, a nervous smile growing, and glances at your tent. He catches sight of half your face, smiles even wider, and then — well, that’s all you see before you quickly shut the flap and flush in your own embarrassment.

A few more minutes pass before Druig enters first, leading the Chief and his son. The Chief bows his head, as do you. You hear a whistle, a little discomfort in your ears, and Druig breathes out low to signal he has finally finished connecting your mind with the new arrivals. It’s the only way you understand Druig and he understands you — it’s the only way he warned you beforehand what the Spanish were planning.

“Princess,” the Chief starts, voice rumbling but with a controlled shake. He looks tired, but determined. You figure his voice shakes because of age only, not anything else. “I offer you my condolences. Although we suffer through similar situations, ours is nowhere near as brutal as what you and your people have experienced. Please, accept my gratitude for allowing my people to seek refuge here.”

The statement hurts because your pain does not outweigh anyone else’s. But you understand; you empathize. “We are all human. We have a common enemy, however. I am grateful you accepted our invitation.”

The Chief says nothing more, and instead instructs his son to step forward. His height overwhelms you — you reach the middle of his chest.

He pauses, seemingly out of words as his mouth parts around no sound, a slight shuffle in his step. Finally, he clears his throat as if the words have suddenly settled on his tongue.

“You are even more beautiful than Druig said. I’m glad to know he isn’t a liar.”

“And if he was? Would you risk the safety of your people, and mine, simply because I didn’t succeed with your expectations?”

He smiles slowly, wide, beautiful crinkles multiplying near his dark brown eyes. “Cunning, too.”

You feel yourself flushing, from your cheeks to your neck to your stomach. Druig and the Chief try to hide their smiles.

“Princess,” he continues, bowing his head. “If you will have me, I will be honored to serve alongside you in protecting our people. Nothing would give me greater joy.”

The wind outside erupts in soft bristles, gleeful and excited. “May I?” you ask him, then the Chief. They both nod. You reach your left arm up slowly, fingertips at the ready and already tingling. The skin of his cheeks is warm and with enough concentration you can feel how fast his blood is pumping. You trace down to his chin, where his jawline is prominent and his chin dips slightly, a lovely dimple right in the middle. He had discarded most of his clothing before entering the tent, but he is still modest: the Chief explained that his son must present himself as he is, the way he was born. It allows for you to also feel his bare collarbones and shoulders, where his hair cascades even further down. Dark, with only a few waves, and there are sunspots on his broad shoulders. A hard worker.

You rest your palm over his heart, closing your eyes to listen. His heartbeat, once erratic with nerves, has calmed almost immediately. That’s never happened before.

He looks down, careful to not bend his neck, and whispers, ever so sweetly, “Sakari.”

His brown eyes meet yours when you open them. He’s nearly a foot taller, large and towering, but no one, not even the scariest creature on earth, could ever be so frightening when the dimple in his chin is as delicate as a lively willow. Your heart pumps off beat, and because your hand is still pressed on him, his does too.

“Sakari,” you repeat. He nods, as if he’s learning his own name for the first time too. Druig speaks within the back of your mind: Sweet… His name translates to ‘sweet’.

Sakari stalls, a breath pushed from his chest. “You pronounce it… different.”

“I apologize—” you begin, but Sakari simply laughs.

“Please, say it again.”

“Sakari.”

“No, no. The end. You pronounce it strongly.”

You do. The soft R that falls from his lips is instead a stumbling D from yours. “Ari,” you say, and it sounds like ‘Ah-dee.’

“It is what you should call me,” Sakari, or now Ari, kindly insists.

The wind howls with excitement. If you listen closely, you can hear gentle chants of approval. Even though Ari cannot hear them, it still embarrasses you. You clear your throat as an informal way of telling the outside to quiet down. “Ari,” you start, glancing at both the Chief and Druig before continuing. “I believe our union would benefit our people, as well as each other. I accept your proposal.”

A massive smile spreads across Ari’s face, but before you can marvel at it, he picks you up and twirls you in a giant embrace. You’re caught off guard, and you can vaguely hear the Chief scolding him, but you laugh loudly as you become a little dizzy. Ari puts you down, cheeks strained from his blushing.

“I apologize,” he says, and wipes a quick hand over his face. “That was forward of me.”

“It is alright,” you mutter, flustered. There’s an awkward silence, like the Chief and Druig are third-and-fourth wheeling. Druig feels it and claps his hands together.

“Excellent! Will tomorrow afternoon work well?” he asks.

It’s unspoken, but it works well. It works very well.

“Ah!”

It’s impossible not to scream as you jump from the cliff, hand intertwined with Ari’s and gripping tightly, even as you hit the water below. The two of you emerge already laughing, waterfall and everyone’s loud cheers piercing your ears. It’s a million rounds of congratulations and side ceremonies after the jump. It’s exhausting, but Ari’s so damn ecstatic and energetic as he makes his rounds to all your people that it’s plenty to boost your energy as well.

It’s quite a magnificent feast: three different kinds of meats, freshly grown fruits and vegetables, and desserts made with fire. You smirk in your seat as you overhear some women speaking about how the vegetables weren’t supposed to be ready so soon, that it was practically impossible for them to taste this good. Druig chuckles beside you, but you know he’s also silently chastising you for rushing the harvest.

So, what? The wedding was rushed. You needed food. Plain and simple.

“Princess?”

The soft voice belongs to a girl who cannot be more than age ten. Her eyes are wide and dark, beautiful black hair brushed from her face and encased in a complicated braid. She wears a similar gown as all the other children — a comfortable nightgown of the sorts, but it’s more a ceremonial dress than for sleep. You hum low in response, turning to her with a bright smile.

“I know we were told to make something for everyone to use,” she says, blushing, twiddling with an object behind her back. “But Ma told me that beautiful people always wear beautiful things. So we made this for you.”

She reveals the loveliest pair of bracelets you’ve ever seen. The beads are handcrafted, jade in color, and attached together with the thinnest of black rope. They must have been polished years before — they are so clear you can see the reflection of the fire pit in each bead.

“The beads were Ma’s. But she does not wear them anymore.” Her small hand grabs yours from your lap and gently rolls the smallest of the bracelets onto your wrist. The beads are cold on your skin, and when you shake your wrist just a little they jingle the cutest tune.

“I cannot accept this,” you say, but your bright smile is telling the little girl something completely different.

“Ma said you would be happy. I am sorry you had to leave all of your jewelry behind when we left.”

You hadn’t really thought about it. You hadn’t really thought much about that night. You and your maids were barricaded in your bedroom and searching for a way out, not piling all your belongings into pouches. All you took with you were a few coins and a pair of earrings that you sold for seeds, clothing, and children’s shoes.

“Thank you,” you whisper kindly. She smiles big, her two front teeth missing, and runs toward the fire pit, where Ari is conversing with his friends. She tugs at his long shirt, once and then twice, until Ari looks around before looking down.

You imagine she gives him the same conversation. She slides the bracelet onto his wrist and cheers in place. You can’t help but laugh as he matches her excitement. Then next thing you know, Ari’s running to where you are seated.

“Do we match?” is the first thing he proclaims, holding his wrist out, shaking it. You laugh and hold yours out as well, nodding with equal joy.

“I have never gotten a gift before.”

Your heart clenches down on itself, banging hard against your sternum. You grip his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers until they start their own little, absent-minded dance.

“What should we say it represents?” you ask.

Ari purses his lips. “We can be common and say it represents love and family.”

You snort, “Too common.”

Ari laughs hard. “Or we can say it represents us as equals. Us as partners. To new beginnings.”

“Your first gift. It should be your choice.”

Ari smiles at that. He turns the bracelet over his wrist a few times, studying its intricate designs. He looks good in jewelry. Already you’re imagining him with earrings and a matching necklace. His wide chest would carry it beautifully. Finally, Ari bites his lip and nods. “I do not want to forget everything we left behind. We are all building a new life here. Together. But I do not want to forget everything we had. Who we were, who we left, who we lost.”

“So, remembrance? Memory?”

“A memorial.”

You hum. “These are quite pretty for a memorial. But a memorial sounds soooo serious,” you begin to tease, but Ari simply rolls his eyes and tugs you out from your seat. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, he grabs you around the waist, his front to your back, and twirls you around. Your legs flail helplessly. He doesn’t stop, not until you two make it back to the firepit, where you both collapse with equal dizziness and loud laughter.

1526

“Move it a little to the right.”

“Do I tell you how to hunt?”

“You are going to miss it.”

“You do not know that.”

“I know more than you, that is certain.”

Ari chuckles under his breath and resteadies his bow. His bracelet jingles a little as he does so. You instructed him to leave it in the tent before going hunting, afraid it’s quiet noise will still be audible to the toughest prey. Now you just watch as it slides up and down on his wide wrist. “I do not need to move it.”

You grin from ear to ear and watch as he also steadies his breathing. He looks so beautiful up in the trees — his hair has grown a few more inches since last year. The soft, orange glow of the rising sun brushes his cheeks and reflects off his skin. He’s glowing, figuratively and literally, and his fingers are so steady that you’re worried if he listens to your direction he’ll lose his grip.

“Any day now.”

Ari huffs again, side-eyes you, focuses back on the elk, and in the very last second before he lets the arrow fly, he moves his bow a little to the right. The arrow hits the target.

Ari clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”

You’re allowed to laugh loudly now — dinner for the next few days has been secured. Birds fly from their nests and squirrels race away from the noise. Ari stares wide-eyed but can’t contain his growing smile.

Ari helps you down from the tree, catching you bridal-style once his own feet are planted on the soil. You don’t immediately jump from his arms, instead opting to let Ari carry you across the woods and to the dead elk. He sets you down, whistles, then bends to pat the elk’s stomach and smooth its fur. He thanks it, softly, and steps away when men arrive to carry it back to the tents.

“You are lucky he got separated from his pack. They do not roam so closely to populated areas.”

“It is not luck. Poor circumstances,” Ari replies.

“It will feed everyone for days.”

“Would you like to take the next one?”

You scowl and Ari laughs. You don’t typically hunt. It’s not your thing, you don’t enjoy killing living beings, and your shot is a little rusty nowadays.

“Do not worry then. I will take the next one… and the next one after that,” Ari teases, pulling you back into his warmth even after you shove him jokingly. He sets his bow to the strap hanging down his back and scoops your pinky finger with his. Intertwined, you walk back to your shared tent.

“Acorns… No… Dirt.”

Ari bursts out laughing, rolling onto his back and tugging the blanket with him. He covers his eyes with both palms, shaking his head from side to side.

His laugh cleanly constricts the naked confines of your beating heart, soothing it to wild extremes. It’s damn near poetic how calm you instantly feel when he releases that sound, or any noise he’s able to produce, really. Your heart pours gallons of blood into a pleasurable swell behind your ribs. Sometimes you wonder how they haven’t cracked from that pressure yet, all red and furious and delightful.

Ari simply has to breathe and you surrender any and all inhibitions.

“I do not know whether to be insulted or—”

“I would never insult you!”

“Dirt?” Ari repeats, belly laughs contagious. You roll onto your side and hide your face in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

“Your eyes are the color of dirt. Am I not right?”

“I preferred the acorn comparison.”

You smile against his skin, embarrassed. “It is the closest color! When dirt is slightly wet—”

“Mud?” Ari exclaims, shocking you from the crook of his neck. He wrestles you until he gets the upper hand,

“I would use every wonderful comparison in the world for your eyes,” Ari says as he dips down, slides his palm gently over your forehead and down, effectively telling you to shut your eyes. He kisses both your eyelids sweetly, grinning from ear to ear as you huff in annoyance. “To describe these cheeks,” he continues, pecking them softly as well. “Your ears.” Kiss. “Your neck.” Kiss, kiss. “Your nose.”

His kisses warmly tickle. He plants several more along both sides of your face, laughing along with you as you voiced your tiny discomfort. Finally, you shove him off until he freely goes. His hair was blocking your peripheral vision; the soft candlelight from outside is starting to fade but you can still hear some people having late dinner near the fire pit. The glow travels through the thin material of your tent, illuminating your tiny space. It’s one of your favorite things about this time of night: the glow always seems to paint Ari’s skin the softest orange, the most delicate red, the most intense purple.

“Ari?”

“Yes, my love?”

You brace yourself before you ask, twiddling with your thumbs and focusing on the orange glow. “Do you want children?”

Ari smiles, a teasing twinkle in his eye. “Are you asking me if I would like to create life with you?”

“My grandmother cautioned me about it,” you admit, sitting up on your elbows. Ari furrows his eyebrows and turns fully toward you.

“About what?”

“Druig has not told you, has he?”

“Druig has not told me anything you have not told me.”

You hesitate. There’s always the possibility that Ari will take this badly, as your father did. He can side with the white demons who came onto your lands and preached this type of magic was witchcraft, ignoring the very fact their so-called savior has apparently healed the blind, turned water into wine, and walked over water. Ari can do everything you’re terrified of. Or, he can do as your mother did. He can see the natural beauty of such a power, one not many through your generations have been graced with, and work to understand it as it benefits both you, him, and anyone in need of help. So you swallow the hesitation, always prepared for the worst, and tell him.

“I am one with the earth.”

Ari chuckles low, “We are all one with the earth.”

“Yes, in some ways. But I can hear her.”

His eyebrows scrunch up again. “You have a gift-gift?” He’s surprised but curious — he’s only heard the tales. Humans beings with magical abilities specifically chosen to help the earth and those who walk with her. It’s almost impossible to fully believe, but Ari, with all his child-like emotion and imagination, doesn’t believe you’d ever lie to him.

You nod slowly, unsure of how to present the truth. Ari waits patiently, slightly tilting his head in a gesture that asks you to elaborate. It’s now or never really, and if you want to learn more about yourself and your power, it’ll be much easier to do it with Ari by your side, knowing all.

You lift yourself until you’re sitting up, and breathe in gently. There’s space on the ground, and since the floors are dirt it will be simple to show him here, away from any prying eyes. The whole tribe didn’t have to know about your gift unless it was absolutely necessary — Druig had advised you of that. He says he has seen first-hand how humans react to gods and their power, and that it will bring you nothing but celebrity status that ultimately makes you an unwanted savior.

Lifting your hand in the air, you softly move your fingers until you feel it spark within you — that whole sensation that lightly numbs your fingertips and makes your blood grow warmer. The veins of your hand protrude only little until discoloration takes over, long tattooed vines stemming from your cuticles, to your wrist, to the middle of your forearm, and so on. The swirls of each green vine reach the base of your neck. Then, in one fluid motion, you turn your hand over, palm out, and curl your fingers one-by-one.

The ground rumbles, but it’s only detectable if one has their eyes locked on that certain spot. Brown roots expand quickly, turning a lighter brown until they begin adding height, turning green, extending their leaves and branches with every finger you curl. The plant mimics a small bush, not more than a new tree, but when you suddenly uncurl your index and swipe it up with the rest of your tattooed arm, the bush explodes with bright colors.

Flowers. They’re closed, and then they’re not, and then they’re blooming.

Ari sits wide-eyed, mouth slightly parted in shock. Once you pull your arm back into yourself, he watches as the green vines descend and loop into each other. It’s mesmerizing. You remember the look of absolute shock Druig and his friends had when you showed them, too.

Ari sighs, reaches for your arm, scoots himself slower. His smile is slow forming, but as he cups his warm hands over your cheeks, you can feel his positive astonishment radiating. “A treasure.”

“It does not hurt anyone—”

He looks startled for a second. “Why would you assume I thought that?”

“My father did not take kindly to it.”

“With just a look and a dance of your wrist, you have created life,” Ari says, breathing out a powerful puff of air. His smile grows bigger. He removes his hands from your face until they’re simply hovering. “Mother Earth has chosen you to heal her.”

“Perhaps.” You reach for his hands, then hold them, overturned. Ari hooks his pinky with yours. “But my grandmother cautioned that my unique ability may prevent me from bringing life into this world naturally.”

“And I would not love you less if her caution proved a rightful warning.”

“You would still love me,” you say, but it comes out as more of a question.

“There are children here who ask for our attention all hours of all day,” Ari smiles, swiping the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip as you chuckle. “There are children from elsewhere that we will stumble upon, in need of help, in need of a home.” He does the same swipe again, but this time for his own selfish enjoyment. “You are my home.”

1527

“I was forced to learn. I do not find enjoyment in it.”

Ari sighs and goes to sit beside you, crossing his legs. He tilts his head down and tries to catch your eye from below but you won’t budge. He dips lower, his hair falling over his eyes but that doesn’t stop him. He dips lower and lower until his head falls into your lap. Your stomach flips cheerfully.

You can’t help the involuntary chuckle his sudden mass expels from you, and you find yourself instinctively running your fingers through his long hair. He hums deep in his throat from the feeling.

Finally, after a few minutes of simply falling deeper into the calmness, you speak again. Timidly, but still. “Why do you want to do this?”

Ari shuffles a little in your lap. His eyes are closed as he responds. “Because dancing is not only a demon activity.”

You smirk and shake your head. “I meant,” you pause, taking a strand of his hair and twirling it around your index finger. “Why do you want to dance slowly with me? We have our own dancing and music.”

“You must understand I do not want to wash away our dances. I simply want to try this form of dancing with you.”

“It is not ours.”

Ari sighs and slowly rises from your lap. “You are not betraying anyone by swaying closely with me. It is our life. And if I want to hold you close and take two steps to the right, then back, and up, I will.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Besides,” Ari continues. “They probably stole this form of dancing from another anyway.”

You cover your mouth to stifle a loud laugh. Ari tries also considering it’s very late, but he stifles it by leaning into your body and nuzzling his face in your neck.

“I will dance with you,” you say, grinning madly at how quickly Ari moves to stand the two of you up. He shuffles around trying to get into a proper position, holding his arms out like he doesn’t know what to do with them. He’s only seen this performed once and another as a still-drawing.

“This hand here,” you instruct, placing his left hand around your waist. He wiggles his eyebrows jokingly, which earns him another laugh out of you. “And this one in mine.”

You place your right hand on his left shoulder.

“Why am I allowed to touch you but you are not allowed to touch me?”

You shrug lightly. “I do not know. I believe your hand is supposed to be higher up on my back, though.” Ari catches your teasing tone and purposely lowers his hand until he gently palms the right side of your bottom. You wiggle away but he insists, palming harder.

“Do you want to learn the dance or not?” you say in between laughter. He surrenders, muttering ‘okay, okay’, then forces his face to go serious.

“A smile would suffice.”

Ari groans, “Start swaying!”

The two of you move opposite ways, realize your mistake, and end up crashing into each other. It continues like this for most of the night, until finally it becomes easier, less rushed, and natural. The two of you twirl dramatically and sway all across the tent, forcing each other to keep your laughter on a low volume and apologizing every few minutes for stepping on the other’s feet. Ari has to stop and pull his hair up when he begins to sweat, but he isn’t tiring.

And he looks so happy. Truly, brilliantly, happy.

“I would not be asking you to do this if I did not need your help!” Druig exclaims, cheeks red. He’s scared. Worried. He hasn’t shown these emotions since Tenochtitlan was invaded; since he found you leading a small group of scared townspeople through the woods.

“You are asking me to make friends with the enemy. To create a treaty in which they will not follow! You have seen this happen countless times before! Why are you asking me to do it again?”

Druig opens his mouth to yell again, but your words smack him senseless. He chokes on whatever words he was about to speak, seemingly second-guessing his whole argument.

“You cannot expect me to go along with this.”

“I cannot influence them, Princess.”

“And why not? You did it before.”

“Because I cannot influence or change evil!” Druig explains, and looks to the skies. He’s biting his tongue now but you can see he’s struggling. “I cannot hold their minds for the rest of their lives. We can only lead them out and hope they do not interact with others who are less fortunate.”

“And why not just give them what they truly want?”

“Princess, you speak nonsense—”

“It is why they are at our borders. It is why they chose that night to attack. It is why they were screaming my name—”

Druig steps forward, determined, and holds your hands in his. He’s shaking, growing angrier by the second, but not at you. Never at you. Because of humanity in general. “I will protect you and our people until my last dying breath. You are one of the only good human beings in my thousands of years that I have come across. I will not lose you to their greed.”

His eyes are watering, frustrated tears threatening to topple over. You bite your bottom lip. “I am a witch.”

“You are not associated with any dark magic they claim you call upon.”

You bow your head in defeat. This is a conversation you’ve had multiple times, even before the collapse. You really only have two options: stay and hope these invaders honor the treaties set forth, or stay and fight to protect your new home. The invaders are getting closer, the trees have whispered their presence, and they know you are settled close. Druig believes they are waiting to attack. He’s past assuming they are nearing to negotiate. But the tribe has taken a vow of non-violence, so for the respect of your people, non-violent solutions have been explored first.

But conversations with the Spanish have never not been bloody. “Druig… creating another treaty will do nothing.”

“Then we must fight.”

“With what army? With what weapons?”

“I can destroy them all. One look and I can make them turn their guns on each other.”

“And what comes next? Another army comes because this one did not write back to Europe. The more armies you destroy with your one look will make all of Europe see us as the evil ones. You Druig, as much as I see you right now, do not exist in their worlds. You are not real. They will blame us. Only us.” It’s the damning truth. It feels horrible sliding off your tongue. “We cannot win. We are millions strong but with their influence and their disgusting ideals they will prosper because they are the ones who write history.”

Druig clenches his teeth, jaw moving. He knows he should have had this conversation with the Chief present. Then it would be two against one. “So you are suggesting we run away.”

“We will lose a lot more of our people if we stay and fight.”

“Then use your power.”

You shake your head, stunned. “What about my power?”

“You can use it, no? You can overpower them and—”

“I have never used my power to hurt anyone,” you whisper, putting a bold emphasis on the word ‘never’.

Druig balls his fists by his sides. “These people are not ‘anyone’. You know this.”

He’s not wrong. But it’s true what you’ve said. You have never used your power more than necessary. You have never abused such a gift to take life away or to smother it. You don’t think you’d know how. “I do not even know if I can.”

“Then… Princess,” Druig pauses, rolling the restricted words over on his tongue. He doesn’t want to say it, but he must. “You stay and fight. No treaty. I will get everyone to safety.”

“And Ari.”

Druig nods, sure in his answer this time. “I will make sure he is safe with everyone else.”

“If I cannot do this...”

“I will return to your side. I promise.”

“You must tell me. I cannot let you go alone and face something you will not tell me about!”

“Ari—”

“No. Do not say my name like that. Do not say my name so lovingly just to leave me in the end.” Ari’s eyes water with unshed tears, his hands shaking by his side.

You’re soft-spoken as you continue. “I will never leave you so.”

“Then you must tell me where Druig is sending us. Why are you not coming with us?”

Druig promised he wouldn’t interfere with their minds. The next best thing was to influence the minds of everyone here, to guide them to temporary safety as you tried to convince the invaders that they had fled. Never once have you used your power for violence. But tonight, even if you feel sick to your stomach, you must try. “I have the power to stop them.”

Ari shakes his head, pouting hard. It creates these downward wrinkles by his mouth and goddamn do you love when they turn upward instead. “Fighting this enemy ? Again? Have you lost your mind?”

Your mouth parts with an unspeakable word. Slowly, all languages are starting to become hard. But you produce what you can. Your hands are also shaking. “I think so.”

“We do not have the weapons! We do not have enough people to go against them.”

“That is why Druig is leading you and everyone else away. They will not hurt me. I cannot get hurt so easily.”

Ari’s face contorts as if the air that has entered his lungs has just broken his ribs and he’s fighting to set them back into place. “You are asking me to turn my back on you. To leave you here where they will hurt you, but not so easily?”

“What matters is that our people are safe.”

“And do you not count?” Ari nearly exclaims, walking to you bravely. He goes to cup your cheeks, first hovering like he’s afraid you’d crumble under his touch. Finally, as if he desperately needs to feel the warmth of your flesh, he cups them fiercely. He holds you there, squishing harder on accident but with bold purpose. He shakes your head as he speaks. “Do not let me leave you.” He sucks in a harsh breath, his bottom lip trembling. “I would not bear it.”

He seems to crumble as your own tears fall quickly, soaking his fingers. A broken sob cracks in his throat. You feel your eyes swell, a blinding headache forming.

Even though it hurts to speak because of the tight coil choking you, you try your hardest to reassure him. “You will not travel far. Druig will return to help me. But he must lead everyone out safely first.”

“I will return with him.”

“Ari, please—”

He holds your face tighter, and with a plea doused in hopelessness, he rests his forehead on yours. “You cannot change my mind. I will return with Druig. I will always help you fight. You and me… we are only the beginning.”

You try to pull away, gripping his wrists to push him back, but he holds strong. “Do you hear me?”

Slowly, you nod against him. His nose nudges yours, equally as damp, then it nudges your cheek until he tilts his head down more, connecting his trembling lips with yours. “You wait for me, do you hear me? My dream, my spirit, my love — you hear me.”

He’s no longer asking: he’s confirming.

“Alone at last!”

As if luck is finally on your side, you managed to persuade the Chief without the use of Druig’s mind. You had promised that Druig’s magic would only ensure safe and orderly passage, and that he and Ari would remain unaffected. Reluctantly, the Chief agreed. And with a long, disappointed look, asked why your pride must outrank everyone else's.

Your people are safe. You finally did it. Your people are safe. There are excited whispers being spread through the trees. Your people are safe.

You turn to the man a few steps away from you, anger pouring through your expression as you clench your teeth hard. The nearby fire is starting to blister your skin. It’s tearing your heart out to witness yet another destruction of something you had taken so long to achieve.

“Oh, you remember me! That’s good.”

Of course you remember him.

You remember him as the man who arrived with thousands on various ships — Rodrigo Graciano. A mouthful of a name you had joked once. You remember him as the man that sweet-talked your mother and betrayed your father. You remember him as the man who threatened to destroy your life if you warned your father. You remember him as the man who stood on the steps of your home, watching as chaos ensued and a civilization of millions was torn to shreds, literally, in one night.

The form of his hand around your mother’s throat. His boisterous laugh as he picked off the children. His wicked smile that turned too far out, unnatural in its upward state, when he watched you escape.

“Why must you destroy everything you come across?” you say, accent thick as you try to speak the language they had forced upon you. Without Druig’s powers, you’re forced to understand him only to the best of your ability.

“Destroy?” Graciano yells, arms extended. He circles, turning in place as he jokingly marvels at his handiwork. “I have only led biblical revolutions. And those who fall in line realize that leading a civilized life is worthy of Heaven.”

You scoff, “You cannot honestly believe you would enter the kingdom of Heaven with your wickedness.”

He stops, startled. He takes a deep breath before he shouts, “You dare doubt God?”

“I doubt any man who dares speak for their God.”

He clenches his jaw, working it over as if he’s biting his tongue. Half of Graciano’s men merely watch, the other half setting fire to nearby tents. They’re angry; it’s obvious from the insults they’re spitting, as well as the actual spit they aim at the ground.

“Perhaps I will not kill you so quickly. You were promised to me long ago,” he says, glancing at your body. He clicks his tongue, motioning some of his men forward.

That does it. You shoot out your hand, twisting your wrist harshly, until the nearby tree branches extend far enough to wrap around the legs of the men you can see. The branches carry them off the ground, some men taken by both their arms and legs. The ground rumbles furiously, roots sprouting and branches cracking.

Graciano looks at the chaos behind him, eyes wide with fear. And just to rightfully scare the living hell out of him, you let the branches carry one of his men far above the ground, spread and at your mercy, until you quickly swipe your hand and let the branches tug at his limbs with full force.

It’s the most brutal thing you’ve ever witnessed. It mirrors a horrid, ritualistic sacrifice. But the images are compiling to an unhealthy height. All you see are these men torturing your people.

So you lift your palm again, the green imprints on your skin now reaching your left cheek, and allow the branches to wrap their necks, stab their spines, and pull until they break. Their screams are mere distant wails for you, as if figurative.

“Witch…”

A sharp pain explodes in your chest. The trees abruptly stop, twisted in the position you left them. You look down slowly, confused, and see a wooden arrow pierced directly through your heart. The tip extends far beyond your skin, tainted red. You turn around and see Graciano standing there, a smile on his face but frightened nonetheless. He has your bow and arrow near his hip now. He must have escaped your peripheral as vengeance consumed you.

You reach up and wrap your small hand around the arrow, tugging it forward until it slips through the hole in your skin. It leaves a sickening, empty void in your chest. It almost mimics the feeling of having to vomit. Your head starts to feel heavy and your breaths are coming shorter. A scream abrupts somewhere near, a heart-wrenching one; a scream that makes your pierced heart beat one last time.

Shooting out your arm, the branches off to the side twist quickly and form into a bow instantaneously. The silky roots form the string. You snap the creation off the main tree, center your shot, and shoot the same tainted arrow at Graciano’s chest.

You’ve always been a good shot — you just don’t like to brag.

He falls before you do.

You awaken with a quick wince. There’s a stabbing pain in your chest and in your stomach. Your memories are scattered and the trees are no help — they’re frantic, screaming, boisterous in your ears. Your wrists pulse with pain as you lift yourself up, head swimming and vision cloudy. Your dress is wet; your cheek is wet; your hair is matted. Blinking doesn’t help as fast you would like it to.

You sit up and palm at your chest, smoothing over the sore area with a grimace. You can’t hear anything from the nearby tents or down at the river. There’s nothing remotely signaling life besides the whistle of the trees. There aren’t even birds singing.

Something splatters on the top of your head. Then two more drops. Wet dress and wet cheeks — rain, crying. But the ground in the middle is dry and drops are still falling. Dirt and iron fill your nostrils.

Turning upwards and over your shoulder, your lip starts to tremble. Your eyes fill with burning tears, squinting as if to shield you from what’s in the skies.

His beautiful face droops a little; his eyes are lifeless, staring down at you, and his hair caresses his sunken cheeks. It couldn’t have been long, but it has been too long for him; the rope around his neck has already created a horrible purple imprint in his brown skin.

A gut-wrenching scream tears from the pit of your empty chest, along the sides of your dry throat, and roars through the land. You scream loud and deep, one right after the other, eyes burning with rapid tears. You make the massive mistake of inhaling a deep breath as it rocks your body upward, making you lift your head to more than just Ari’s direction. It’s a horrid circle, filled with hanging bodies, and you’re at the center of it.

The ground rumbles: stray roots uproot in awkward directions, snapping and twirling through each other until they lay dormant at your feet. They try to cover you, as if to provide a blanket, but it startles you. Leaves fall from the trees, dying before they hit the floor. The roots poke and prod, pinching your soft flesh. With each scream you voice, more roots appear. You stare down at them once the horror shocks you enough to look away from the bodies. But you don’t know what’s worse: the sight of them hanging or the revelation that your dress is covered in blood rather than water, that your cheeks are smeared with it also.

The ground shakes as one of the tallest trees falls just inches from you, growing silent as the others grow loud. They’re begging you to stop: it’s killing them. But it’s impossible — the sounds don’t stop. You can go on and on until your chest explodes, you can feel it. There’s no point at an end anymore anyway. You don’t want to reach for it.

The hours pass, the screams fade, and the life around has started to turn orange and brown.

You don’t get it. There’s no possible explanation as to why you’re still alive. And if this is the result, it must mean Ari did come back for you.

They did this on purpose. With malicious intent and cruel purpose. You call out for Druig even if your voice is ragged and raw. You palm at your chest again, searching for the bleeding wound you were sure you had. You felt it pierce skin, you felt it go through an artery, you felt each horrid indent along the wooden spine as you pulled it out. You scream Druig’s name louder but still, nothing. There’s no one left, no one around. Everyone who came back to help met their fates in this circle. It doesn’t warm your heart at all knowing Ari came back with extra help — in fact, it rips whatever remaining shreds are left. He could have ran, he could have saved himself, he could have lived. He was supposed to live long, see more magic than you would ever be able to conjure, raise children of his own — he was supposed to live. But he’s hanging over you with life drained from his eyes. His wonderful brown eyes. And you weren’t even awake to save him.

There’s nothing you can do now. Cut them down? Bury them and move on? This wasn’t just some other conquest — it never is, but that’s how history will tell it. The people who destroyed the lives of everyone you loved will twist the story and paint this as some unfortunate event. That’s exactly what history is: the Crusades, Christopher Columbus, the attacks on impoverished peoples, the genocide of people different from others. All of it, all that Druig has told you, has been twisted for the benefit of those doing the killing. History is violent. That’s why they choose specific people to tell it.

You can’t control the whimpers you expel. Slowly, the roots shielding your body rest back on the ground. You nod at them, broken, and lay back down.

Tucking your knees into your chest and your hands below your stained cheek, you allow the roots to cover you and press down. It’s a gentle pressure, but it’s efficient. Your breathing gets slower, all by your own account, until the earth swallows you in a mournful hug.

1600

It’s silent. The trees aren’t making much noise. There are slight bristles of leaves and a few branches cracking, but it’s otherwise quiet.

Your head feels incredibly heavy — pin pricks stab your temples and behind your eyes. It takes a moment to realize you’re face down with a lovely aroma digging into your nostrils. It’s still spring, it seems.

The second you lift your head to the sky you regret it. The sudden memories come rushing back. What you will see, what you could have prevented, what shouldn’t have happened.

But there’s nothing here. His beautiful body isn’t hanging from that tree. The ropes are gone. No one is here.

With a great deal of pain, you force yourself to stand. Your dress is ripped, practically shredded, and you’re covered in dirt. Your lips tremble as you try and prevent hyperventilating.

“Ari?”

This doesn’t make sense. You just went to sleep. That’s all it was. You’ll walk back to the tents and hear music playing, you’ll see this week’s hunt cooking fresh, you’ll hear the joyful sound of conversation.

And Ari will be in your tent, pricking himself with a sharp bone as he attempts to finish your sewing. He has to be. He’ll be there waiting, that wonderful smile on his face, a joke on the tip of his tongue, pinky finger intertwining with yours.

“Druig?”

But it’s too quiet. And the trees hum low, sorrowful.

You look around again, just in case, before you swallow the lump in your throat and let the trees guide you to the nearest body of water.

2024

The satchel across your shoulder is digging into the exposed skin near your neck. You move the strap outward repeatedly, curses muttered underneath a quiet breath.

The world is quiet today. Which is a massive relief — this is the one century that’s been the loudest. You’d take French Revolutions and the Great Depression over aliens falling from the sky any day. And isn’t that a riot and a half?

You pull your keys from the depths of your satchel, flinging them around your index finger. Thoughts of a hot bubble bath and a nice, warm meal are halted when you stop abruptly, staring down the massive lump taking a nap outside your door. You look up at the ceiling, curses muttered louder now, until you finally study the obstacle in your way.

You look down at Bucky Barnes, who reeks of some vodka-champagne infusion, you can’t really tell, and sigh. It’s the third time this month.

He looks messy, tired bags underneath his eyes, beard coming in thick again. But still, that fine line of his nose makes you take pity on him. You don’t understand why that is. You’ve just always wanted to run your finger down it.

“James,” you say, and gently kick the front of your boot into his thigh. “Get up.”

Bucky groans, his closed eyes clenching even tighter.

“James,” you repeat, digging your boot deeper.

Here’s the thing about Bucky Barnes: once he’s out, he’s out. One sip of that Asgardian liquor and he’s not waking up until a crisp twenty-four hours later. He drank Thor’s “gift” the night Steve left, a week after to cope when it got a little too lonely, and a few times a few weeks ago. But he has a good reason, he swears — Sam got hurt on a mission and Bucky wasn’t allowed in the hospital room. Mismatched or outdated credentials, they said. So he was stuck obtaining information on Sam from other primary sources. He may have also hacked into the hospital’s system but that’s really not the point. He’s had a shitty few months, why blame him?

This time, however, well, you don’t really know what his reason is.

“Okay,” you sigh. You squeeze your feet between Bucky and the door, working the key in the lock as quickly as you can. Once the door unlocks, you push it open and step through before you lose balance. Bucky still hasn’t moved to stand, but he has started moaning.

You work your jaw, annoyed, and give up. You set your things down on the nearby counter and go to lift the bulky obstacle at your doorway. Hooking your arms beneath his armpits is easy to do once you flip him onto his back. He’s hard to drag but you manage to pull him across the living area and to your couch. There, you bend your knees and lift his upper body onto the couch first, groaning in discomfort as his weight kills your lower back. Once Bucky looks semi-comfortable you lift his legs as well. His boots are a puzzle, however — Bucky ties his laces like he’s afraid the boots will magically fly off. The loops are insane, and it actually makes you chuckle quietly to yourself.

The boots come off after a difficult five minutes. You set them to the side and go retrieve a blanket from the closet. Bucky’s feet poke out the end no matter how you arrange it: either half his chest is exposed or his feet. You choose to warm his chest.

You bend down to your knees and brush strands of hair from his face. His hair is growing long again. It reaches his ears.

“I’ll have coffee ready when you wake up.”

Slowly, you stand and continue your nightly routine like your next door neighbor isn’t sleeping off a hangover on your couch. But he isn’t just a regular neighbor, right? An Avenger. Retired, but it doesn’t change the weirdness of it.

It gets annoying after a while when you have to play nurse to someone who doesn’t really talk to you all that much. But Sam has asked very nicely. And Sam Wilson was too much of a good man to refuse.

The sound of the shower doesn’t wake him up. Neither does the ruckus of the pots and pans in the kitchen. You make enough enchiladas for two people: slightly-fried tortillas, stripped chicken, salsa, chopped onions, and cheese all stacked in a square tray and popped into the oven. The grease that splattered onto the counter is an annoying clean, but it’s enough to occupy your mind.

Once dinner is done, you serve yourself and get comfortable in the single chair beside the couch, knees tucked up so your feet warm up underneath you, television at the lowest volume. You should try waking Bucky up again. He probably drank that alien liquor on an empty stomach.

But you decide against it. Last time Bucky wrapped his metal arm tightly around your neck and nearly flung you across the room. He almost drank himself dead afterward, even after you assured him you were okay.

Instead, you turn off the lights and leave Bucky on the couch, his eyes fluttering aimlessly behind closed eyelids.

xxMoni

Taglist: @cutelittletwistedhorror @cloudyfeel @howlermonkey69 @wintersgirl1917 @gabewerk @aquariusbarnes @fandoms-writings @shirukitsune @goldylions @real-jane @mannien

(I have sent a direct message to those Tumblr would not allow me to tag)

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shijiujun · 4 years

Text

Time for some BL/Danmei novel recs!

You guys have probably (maybe) seen my novels list here - [X] - but it’s more for my own tracking than anything else, so here’s a brief list (I’ll probably do full ones of the ones I really love in another post, probably on Minmo).

The ones elaborated on below with the asterisks are the novels I’ve actually finished reading.

*since everyone more or less knows MXTX’s works - TGCF, MDZS and SVSSS, I’ll skip those!

1. SCI 迷案集 | SCI Mystery Series by 耳雅*

Summary: Bai Yutang and Zhan Zhao are childhood friends and rivals that end up working together under the newly established SCI unit as co-leads, with Bai Yutang providing the brawn as Captain and Zhan Zhao the brains as Vice Captain and the team’s resident genius psychologist. They solve cases together and slowly unravel a wider conspiracy that involves their parents’ generation and beyond. At the same time they also realize that they’re meant for each other!

Other CPs: Bai Jintang (Bai Yutang’s older brother) & the medical examiner, Gongsun Ce, Bai Chi (Bai Yutang’s younger cousin) & magician Zhao Zhen, and at least three other gay pairings, one of which is considered another main couple of sorts from Vol. 2 onwards

Status: Incomplete (Began in 2010, author is still going on strong with one chapter every one or two months, we’re halfway through Vol. 5 right now and it’s been 10 years ;-; Love that the author is going on strong!! Everyone on JJWXC are like “please author it’s okay if you go slow as long as you keep going we’re here for you” and jfc I understand the fear of this not completing, also when will Vol. 5 be completed and printed?!! I need to complete the collection)

Translations: Unfortunately, only the first volume has been translated well so far on novel updates. The one on Wattpad seems to have caught up, but I would not recommend that one.

Drama/Live-Action: Season 1 was filmed and released in 2018 under the same name with slightly changed names for the characters. Season 2 was supposed to start filming this month but... oh well. First season basically covered Vol. 1 novel from start to end.

*I love this one only because it was my very first danmei and so it’ll forever have a special place in my heart, and also because it’s still ongoing so ya know, I relive how much I love this every month

2. 成化十四年 | Cheng Hua’s Fourteenth Year (The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty) by 梦溪石*

Summary: Tang Fan, a prefectural judge, and Sui Zhou, a high ranking officer in the Embroidered Uniform Guards, meet while trying to solve a murder case. Both of them end up partnering very well together, Sui Zhou ends up inviting Tang Fan to live with him, and the rest is history. Through their days living together and solving cases + a larger conspiracy involving the royal palace, they fall in love. Adding to this mix is also Wang Zhi, a powerful, young eunuch who befriends the pair, and the three of them basically help the crown prince to overcome challenges and his enemies to become the next Emperor

Other CPs: None XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: Ongoing on several websites. I’m only translating relationship highlights, but here’s an introduction post I did for it, if you guys would like somewhere to start without getting too invested - [X]

Drama/Live-Action: The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty was released earlier this year, directed by Jackie Chan and starring Darren Chen and Paul Fu, but cases are a little different and there are new characters in the show that weren’t from the novel etc.

3. 杀破狼 | Shapolang by Priest*

Summary: Set in a steampunk universe where flying boats named ‘kites’ and flying armour exist. Young teenager Chang Geng lives with his mother and stepfather - the former abuses him and the latter neglects him, and the only person that he cares about (and cares about him) is Shen Shiliu, his (very young) godfather. He realizes his identity as a royal prince when the Man tribe invades his city and Shen Shiliu, whose real name is Gu Yun, turns out to be an army general whose duty was to protect Chang Geng in secret (among other things).

Chang Geng has been critically poisoned by his mother (who’s not actually his birth mother, if I recall she’s an aunt) which leads to him getting terrible dreams frequently with the end result of him being driven into insanity, while Gu Yun is half blind, half deaf due to poisoning + injury when he was much younger, and he can only regain his hearing and sight fully when he takes a medicine that is slowly losing its effectiveness with every dosage he has.

The both of them navigate learning about each other again, falling in love a few years later when Chang Geng is all grown up and also unravel conspiracies and fight bad guys (both external threats and internal as in the current Emperor and other parties) XD

*Note: The age old debate is that Gu Yun ‘preyed’ on and also ‘groomed’ Chang Geng, but I disagree and stand by the fact that Gu Yun was 90% of the time not around while Chang Geng grew from a teenager to a young adult as he was fighting wars elsewhere, while Chang Geng refused to stay at the Gu manor and insisted on running around, travelling on his own and seeing the world for a few years before they met again. And it was Chang Geng who’d always loved Gu Yun and devoted himself to caring about him, making advances on him etc. when he became an adult

Other CPs: Shen Yi (Gu Yun’s second-in-command) & Chen Qingxu (a renowned physician who ends up healing both Chang Geng and Gu Yun of their ailments)

Status: Complete!

Translations: Fully translated the last I heard, it’s up there in the list of holy grail BL/danmei novels, so I’m sure it’s done hahaha.

Drama/Live-Action: Filming in progress!

*This is up there in the hall of fame for danmei novels for more than just the amazing content and writing - It’s also famous for being one of the most complex novels ever. I don’t know how the translations team did it because DAMN it was complex and I read all my novels in Chinese without much issues but I was honestly STRUGGLING WITH this one and I went through some existential crisis while reading because I was like ‘did I ever learn Chinese, am I even Chinese’ XD

4. 默读 | Silent Reading by Priest*

Summary: Luo Wenzhou, a police captain, and his team including best friend and partner Tao Ran, face a few challenging cases that end up being small parts of a larger conspiracy, and end up having to consult with Fei Du, a flamboyant, charming and flirty, young and rich CEO, who Luo Wenzhou describes as someone who is an expert at ‘crimes’. Not deduction, not solving crimes, but someone who is familiar with how the murderer or culprits would commit crimes. Both Luo Wenzhou and Tao Ran know Fei Du well, because they first met when Fei Du was in high school, when he called the police because his mother had hanged herself in the house, and since then Tao Ran and Luo Wenzhou look out for him, spending holidays with him, giving him presents here and there. Luo Wenzhou and Fei Du overcome their misunderstandings of each other and fall in love while solving all the cases and the larger conspiracy behind it.

Other CPs: Tao Ran and someone he knew first from his school days or was a neighbour when he was younger, I can’t remember, but they meet again at a blind date and end up living in the same building on different floors XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: Complete!! There’s a huge post floating around on Tumblr with all the links (I can’t find it right now) and on Twitter you can also find the collated, epub versions etc.

Drama/Live-Action: Rights for a live-action was signed, no casting confirmation or set dates yet

5. 犯罪心理 | Criminal Psychology by 长洱*

Summary: Police captain Xing Conglian drags psychologist Lin Chen out of seclusion/hiding to solve a case that is indirectly tied to him. Lin Chen was involved in a case a few years ago that led to four deaths - these four victims were the sons/daughters of four of the five huge old-money (super rich) families in the country and these family members sought to make Lin Chen’s life very difficult for him afterwards by making him lose all the jobs he can find, by surveilling his every move and ensuring that he’s not happy etc. Because of that, he backed out of the police force as well and quietly lived as a school dorm administrator, which is where Xing Conglian finds him a few years later. Lin Chen fakes his death after the first case (not deliberately but kind of a by-the-way thing), but as fate would have it, he ends up meeting Xing Conglian on another case, and he decides that he’ll move in with him and also involve himself again, consequences be damned, and they fall in love!

Other CPs: None XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: I think it’s not complete yet.

Drama/Live-Action: None that I know of.

6. 死亡万花筒 | Kaleidoscope of Death by 西子绪* (MY ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE)

Summary: Supernatural setting where people who are about to die get a second chance to live. These individuals are either in the midst of a dangerous situation (for e.g. a shootout or a deadly mugging incident) or are about to get into accidents (for e.g. an entire bus going off a bridge or a chandelier dropping from above and crushing the person underneath) or are ill (recently diagnosed with cancer or are terminally ill with a condition for e.g.) - The list is endless, and in the situation between life and death, 12 doors will appear before them.

It is said that once these individuals finish all 12 doors, they will truly get a second chance at life and survive whatever cause of death they were imminently facing.

Each door represents a creepy, supernatural mystery, and Lin Qiushi finds himself in a strange place after opening a door when he was trying to enter his apartment one day. He meets Ruan Baijie, a beautiful, tall woman who he happens to meet, and they realize that in this strange world, he and other individuals who came through the door have to complete a given task, find a key and an exit door, and make it out alive. The others in the team (some of which have already gone through several doors) explain to Lin Qiushi, who is a first-timer, what the doors are about.

The catch is, if they die inside the door, in the real world, they’ll die immediately, by accident, throwing themselves off a building, or just throwing up blood until they die (just to name a few)

On the first night, however, three people are slaughtered and eaten by a long-haired ghost/creature. The good news is, Ruan Baijie isn’t all that she seems to be (for one, she’s not exactly a woman) and she takes a liking to Lin Qiushi immediately.

Other CPs: None XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: I think it’s not complete yet!

Drama/Live-Action: None that I know of, but honestly, this novel would be fricking EPIC as a live-action, and really creepy, but this is my all-time favourite novel, I kid you not!!!!

*I’m definitely doing a longer and more detailed to-read for KOD on my translation account, gosh you guys have no idea how much I love this.

7. 当年万里觅封侯 | Those Years in Quest of Honor Mine by 漫漫何其多

Summary: Yu She and Gu Wan were close friends for a short period of time when they were younger, but unfortunately their identities and positions meant that they were opponents. Yu She’s family was for the Second Prince and Gu Wan was taken in by the Sixth Prince’s family, but in the end it was the Second Prince who ended up getting to the throne, while the Sixth Prince was accused of treason and died somewhere far away at war after being captured. Gu Wan’s only wish was to keep the Fifth Prince’s children - Xuan Rui and a pair of twins, Xuan Yu and Xuan Congxin safe, and so he moves them to another province and asks the Emperor (the Second Prince) to demote Xuan Rui’s status to prove that they are no threat to the Emperor, if only to stay alive for another day.

However, their days of hardship have only just begun, and Gu Wan decides to namedrop Yu She, whose family is so powerful now, and claims that Yu She loves him and that he was wooing Gu Wan back in the days they knew each other so that officials and others would treat the children under his care better. A few years pass and Yu She doesn’t expose Gu Wan. Gu Wan thinks they can go on like this forever, until the Emperor asks Xuan Rui and the twins to head back to the palace for a visit.

Gu Wan meets Yu She again, but the boy he knew, who was gentle, a stickler for rules and a proper, well-mannered person, has changed almost completely. Cue palace conspiracies again, brothers fighting for the throne, scheming consorts etc. XD

Other CPs: None XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: I think it’s not complete yet but I’m not super sure on this

Drama/Live-Action: None that I know of!

*They came out with a new reprint edition three days ago and it’s gorgeous! And comes with amazing freebies, and I am a sucker and read it on the day of the printed novel release because I saw the art and loved it, wanted to see if the story was any good, and damn after chapter 2 I WAS GONE and then I checked out two copies from different stores for the two different sets of freebies

A list of those I haven’t read but I see are highly raved about:

1. 二哈和他的白猫师尊 | The Husky & His White Cat Shizun by Meatbun

- I’ve already been spoiled and I know what goes on mostly, and there are a lot of warnings for a reason, but I’m still a fan, and let’s not get into the debate on the content, I know I have to read this but the angst level is apparently ridiculous, so I need like some mental preparation before I sit down for it.

2. 千秋 | A Thousand Autumns by 梦溪石

3. 烈火浇愁 | Lie Huo Jiao Chou by Priest

4. 将进酒 | Qiang Jing Jiu by 唐酒卿

- A really good group of translators picked this up initially on Twitter, but then assholes were complaining that they were being too slow and insisting that machine translation (MTL) did an equally good and faster job, so the OG dropped it, and then another nice team picked it up, but MTL team is still being an asshole XD I’ve heard really good things about this one, it’s apparently quite complex as well, I’d liken it to Shapolang level? But it might be even more complex (with a lot of politics and stuff), so much so that apparently the printed novel comes with a relationship/character chart so readers are at any point in time clear on the characters which is like amazing XD

#danmei #bl novels #novel recs #sci谜案集 #kaleidoscope of death #silent reading #shapolang #犯罪心理 #成化十四年 #the sleuth of ming dynasty #2ha #priest #梦溪石 #meatbun #西子绪 #耳雅 #长洱

1K notes · View notes

1dmonthlyficroundup · 3 years

Text

1D Monthly Fic Roundup

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for May 2021! Below the cut you’ll find 17 One Direction fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup.

New York Kiss by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

[Louis/Zayn, Mature, 47k, tumblr post]

“Also, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m quite the narcissistic type, and I didn’t want that cute guy to have a bad opinion of me for the rest of his life.” “Who, me?” Zayn bats his lashes jokingly, ignoring the fact that his heart skipped a beat at Louis’ words. “Yeah, you. So, shall we go?” Louis drops what remains of his cigarette on the floor and steps on it to light it off. Meanwhile, Zayn makes a reckless decision. “Alright. Lead the way, De Niro.”

Or: A strangers to lovers AU where Louis is an actor, Zayn is a writer (among other things), and they meet each other literally by accident in NYC, just as the world is about to turn upside down.

I Love The Very Blood Of You by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 129k, tumblr post]

“I don’t just like him …” Harry muttered, fiddling with the string at the waistband of his jogging bottoms that had definitely seen better days. “I love him, Zayn. I’m in love with Louis. With a vampire.”

He looked up just in time to see a small smile on Anne’s face, and she reached out with a hopeful look. Harry couldn’t resist, and put his large hand in hers, letting her comfort him for a moment.

“I could tell there was love between you,” she confessed softly, a light blush on her cheeks. “When I met you, I knew you were smitten with each other. I won’t pretend it doesn’t make me nervous, but … I can’t tell you who you can and can’t love, sweetheart.”

A vampire. A human. A broken arrangement. A love long since forbidden. Hunted by hate. Destined.

One More Taste of Your Lips by MsHydeStylinson @mizzhydes and @canadianlarrie

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 80k, tumblr post]

It had been eight years since the hiatus began, and Louis had spent that time writing and recording music, touring and making it safely through the pandemic. When the opportunity arose to go back on tour with One Direction, Louis knew he'd be a fool not to take it. Sure, life on the road would be different after all this time apart, but he was looking forward to experiencing that comradery again.

What he hadn't realised was that living the better part of nine months in each other's pockets was bound to dredge up issues from his past. And when one of the pockets belonged to Harry, who he'd had a rather unconventional friendship with that drifted apart during their last tour, life on the road again would upend both their lives in irrevocable ways.

***

Harry wasn’t that sixteen year old boy anymore. Nor was he the young man in his late teens who was on the cusp of conquering the entire world.

But some traits seemed to remain the same; his vibrant green eyes, the dimples set deeply in his cheeks whenever he laughed earnestly, or his curls that were the same shade of cocoa that Louis remembered fondly.

And yet, Louis had absolutely no idea who this man that stood a mere twenty paces away was today.

take my hand, wreck my plans by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose

[Harry/Louis, Teen & Up, 38k, tumblr post]

Louis meets the man in the center of the room, feeling every eye on him.

“Mr. H,” he whispers.

The man smiles brightly and laughs as if he can’t believe his eyes. “It’s you,” he says breathlessly. “I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Nor I you, especially under these circumstances.”

“Even so,” Mr H says, his eyes bouncing from Louis’ eyes to his lips. “Will you do me a great honor and join me in leading the first … um…”

“Dance?”

Mr. H laughs and nods. “Yes, that’s the one.”

Louis bites his lips and doesn’t hesitate before whispering, “Yes.”

Mr. H beams and reaches for Louis’ hand. Sparks fly at the touch and a zing of excitement shoots through Louis’ body. His face heats up as he’s afraid his scent would give away his feelings towards the other man.

Winter Light by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

[Liam/Zayn (Liam & Louis, Harry/Louis), Teen & Up, 58k, tumblr post]

“Do you think this place is dead?” he suddenly asked, his eyes focused on one of the two oaks, whose bark was grey and trunk cracked.

“What do you mean?” Zayn inquired, joining him by the tree.

“Well, it’s winter now, so obviously everything looks dead anyway,” Liam said. “But do you think come spring, this place might look like the way it looked before?”

Zayn took his time to think about Liam’s question. “I think all things are salvageable,” he eventually answered. “Including this garden. You just have to try hard enough.”

After his mother’s death, Liam is sent to live at his estranged uncle’s manor in the North of England, where new friends, mysterious places and family secrets await him. A Secret Garden inspired Soulmate AU

Cake and Kiss by @loulovehome

[Harry/Louis, General, 2k, tumblr post]

The one where omega Harry didn't like cake and wants to throw up when his alpha kisses him.

Love After the End of the World by writing_practice / @mercurial-madhouse

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 150k, tumblr post]

“Wait. Just so I’m clear in me fucking noggin,” Niall says. “An international worldwide takeover is well under way and the only thing standing between having hot showers and a second end of the world is us five fuckers?”

-----

Society shattered when all electricity suddenly cut off across the globe, plunging the world into darkness. Now, Prometheus Industries is the sole remaining supply of power, a saving grace to those who survived Lights Out. As fugitives in no-man’s land struggling to break into Prometheus HQ, death lurks around every corner for Louis and Zayn. Things get complicated when a routine recon falls apart and Louis collides with Harry and his mates Niall and Liam, survivors with their own agenda.

When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

Hometown by @allwaswell16

[Louis/Harry, Not Rated, 2k, tumblr post]

On the day Harry gets his driver’s licence, he drives through the suburbs, heartbroken that he can’t drive home to Louis.

Baby Blues by @kingsofeverything

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 12K, tumblr post]

8 mpreg Harry snippets originally posted on Tumblr. Mostly smut ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But If This Ends by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense

[Harry/Louis, Explicit, 107k, tumblr post]

Harry’s life as a vampire is routine. He spends his years moving around from place to place, learning as much as he can, and falling in love whenever the universe sees fit. When he tries to move his casual relationship with Louis to something more, it all gets turned on its head. As they navigate confusing thoughts and complex emotions, Harry finds himself torn between the love he feels for Louis and everything he thought he knew.

Featuring pet names, love letters, secrets, meaningful friendships, and two insecure boys desperately in love.

Pretty in Pink by lovelarry / @chloehl10

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 18k, tumblr post]

“Love? Can I come in?”

Harry sniffed and shook his head before he realised Louis couldn’t see him. “No. Go home, Lou. Please.”

“I’m not leaving,” the Omega insisted, his voice full of concern. “And I’m not judging either. Just… talk to me, Haz.”

Harry briefly considered changing or at least ripping everything off and greeting Louis in his boxers before he realised that might actually be worse, that Louis had seen him dressed up and there was no need to hide anymore. He meekly shuffled over to the door and pulled it open before he backed away, refusing to meet Louis’ eyes.

To the Omega’s credit, he walked straight over to Harry and wrapped his arms around him from behind, resting his cheek between Harry’s shoulder blades.

“This top feels nice. Soft. I see why you like it,” Louis said quietly from behind him.

*****

Alpha Harry loves to secretly dress up and be pretty. He loves his feminine side, even if it’s not typical of an Alpha. But when Omega Louis finds out, it might just the start of something even more beautiful for them both...

Plant New Seeds In The Melody by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 58k, tumblr post]

After losing his husband in a tragic car accident, the last thing Louis needs is to keep running into popstar Harry Styles, who David was quite fond of.

Obviously, that’s exactly what keeps happening.

But as their unlikely friendship blossoms, Louis realizes that, maybe, having Harry in his life was the only good thing that came out of his adverse circumstances. Harry could be just the right person to help Louis find trust and intimacy in someone new.

We are the same, you run in my veins by @vintageumbroshirt / 28sunflowers

[Louis/Harry, General, 4k, tumblr post]

When the time for Louis to become the Alpha leader of his pack comes, he can’t rise to the occasion for not being yet bonded. A series of trips to neighbouring packs in search of his soulmate is fruitless until he meets one of the other packs’ Alpha heir.

Harry.

The world seems to stop turning for a second and then it shifts, clicking into its axis. All the distress and wrongness he felt until that very moment suddenly disappears. Louis is finally whole.

But two Alpha leaders from different tribes soulbonding is something unheard of before.

evergreen, evermore by docklands / @hershelsue

[Louis/Harry, General, 2k, tumblr post]

The year is 1979. Their entire lives, Harry and Louis have lived in Chichester, home to the best watermelons in the world. An unruffled life in the country has always served their long term friendship well. It all shifts when Harry has to move away to a bigger city due to his mother’s job, albeit his love for his hometown and for Louis. It’s even harsher when the moving truck leaves on his birthday, of all days. When all seems lost, Louis ends up having to pull some strings to ease the pain in Harry’s heart.

When The High's Too High, and the Low's Too Low by DaysLikeMasquerades

[Louis/Harry, Mature, 22k+ (wip)]

Two perspectives of growing up neurodivergent

Some days Harry wondered if he would ever find a friend who could look past all the things he couldn't change. Someone who didn't care that he could spend hours talking about his latest fascination without calling him obsessed. Who didn't laugh when he couldn't stop his hands from expressing his emotions. Who didn't care that he was 13, but he'd start crying if he went into too many stores, because they were too bright, too loud, too smelly, and it was all just too overwhelming. Some days he thought someone like that just didn't exist.

Most nights Louis wondered if there would ever come a time when he didn't hate himself. When he would learn to control his emotions and the mood swings that seemed to take over everything and leave no room for himself. He wondered how he could live with himself when he only seemed to hurt the people he loved. His teachers thought he was a wonderful boy, but he knew the truth. Most nights he cried himself into exhaustion wondering how it was possible to feel so broken at only 15. He wanted to be happy, but he didn't know how and that scared him more than anything. Most nights he just hoped he could figure it out before it was too late.

Make You Never Wanna Leave (so Don’t) by @beelou / cherrylarry

[Louis/Harry, Explicit, 3k, tumblr post]

“You look hot in plaid.” “What?” “I said you look like a dad.” “No, you didn't.” “Yes, I certainly did, Harold. You have no proof.” -- Or, the one where Harry wears plaid.

a little tenderness by @disgruntledkittenface

[Harry/Niall, Not rated, 10k, tumblr post]

“Listen, my alpha and I broke up and it turns out that all of our friends were really his friends and I need someone to help me through–”

“No,” Harry practically shouts, the word bursting out of him unbidden. He cringes when he sees the shock on Niall’s face, his pale skin flushing lightly. “I’m sorry, but my answer has to be no. I don’t help omegas through heats. I’m really sorry, Liam knows that, so I don’t know why he would give you the idea–”

“It’s not heat, Harry,” Niall interrupts. “It’s depri.”

“Oh. Fuck.”

Touch deprivation makes a lot of sense now that Harry thinks about it. Niall seems generally unwell; he appears to be weak, his skin is pallid and his lips look chapped, and his breathing is ragged. He’s wearing a cozy-looking sweatshirt, but even over FaceTime, he kind of seems cold, hunched over with his arms wrapped around his body. Harry’s never been around an omega in depri as bad off as Niall looks; most of the time, there’s an alpha friend or family member who can help out with scenting and physical contact.

Oh.

#28th appreciation #tracksintheam #trackinghome #1dsource #fic rec #may 2021

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sevenkittensinatrenchcoat · 3 years

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Bullshit I Made Up With Little to No Justification

So, I wrote a bunch of random paragraphs about various characters, either as headcanons or very short stories.

Tumblebrutus:

Tumblebrutus is the son of Asparagus and an unknown queen. He actually knows his father, because he doesn’t know his mother. Jellylorum’s human assumes he’s part of her litter because of how much he resembles Pouncival. They’re actually cousins. Tumble was born almost a full month before his cousins. He sometimes uses that as an excuse to boss them around. This never ends well for him or anybody.

Plato:

Seven cats are considered kittens, young enough to be attending their first Jellicle Ball. Plato is the oldest of that group and training to be a protector of the tribe. He’s big for his age, and Jellicle cats are usually supposed to be small. He does not appreciate Tumblebrutus pointing this out.

I guess the theme of these two is that Tumblebrutus is a little shit.

Etcetera:

Etcetera hero worships Bombalurina. She might have a bit of a crush on her, but she’s not consciously aware of it. This once led to a bit of an argument with Jemima. When Bustopher Jones was visiting for the Jellicle Ball, all the queens, for some reason, had to stay in one corner while he told everyone about his clubs. Every female kitten had to sit with a chaperone. Electra sat with Jenny, her mother. Etcetera didn’t want to be stuck sitting with Jellylorum, her mother. She convinced Victoria, her sister via adoption, to stay with Jelly while she tried to sit with Bombalurina. Jemima, who may or may not be Bomba’s daughter, claimed the spot Etcetera wanted and she was placed with Tantomile, who didn’t really care either way. But, later that evening, Etcetera stole a spot in Bomba’s dance section and counts that as hanging out with her.

Jemima:

Jemima inherited powers from Macavity, but their personalities are so far apart that no one would ever guess. She’s not entirely aware of the powers that she has. Someday, she’ll probably be similar to Coricopat and Tantomile, though they’re not related to her. As a kitten, she’s somewhat sensitive to telepathic messages, as Old Deuteronomy managed to figure out, and she can receive visions from the Jellicle Moon. She can’t make much sense of anything she learns from her powers yet, so they’re usually not very useful.

Mistoffelees:

No one knows where Mistoffelees got his magic from. He was delivered to Munkustrap’s human family’s doorstep one night and that was that. Most of the tribe, himself included, believe that Bustopher Jones is his father. He’s the only other tuxedo cat known to the tribe. The theory has recently been called into question, because the white patches of Misto’s fur are shrinking. He might become a black cat at some point in the near future. Nobody really questions this because they’re used to Mistoffelees being confusing. Until recently, the tribe wasn’t even entirely sure of his gender. The humans believed him to be a tom and he seemed to agree with them, but then he had those seven kittens. The humans never found out about this. Tugger, after some inspection, which Mistoffelees allowed just to shut him up and definitely not because he enjoyed the attention, found no anatomy that kittens could be birthed from and took to calling him Mr. Mistoffelees whenever he brought him up, so the tribe would remember that he was a tom. Mistoffelees agreed with Tugger’s conclusion, but refuses to admit that Tugger calling him “Mister” is really sweet.

Bombalurina:

Bombalurina idolized Grizabella growing up and never got over how much her hero let her down. When she went off with Macavity, Bomba had at first hoped to find Grizabella and convince her to come back to the tribe. All she found of Grizabella were rumors, most of them false. Bombalurina believed all of them.

Demeter:

Demeter wasn’t raised among the Jellicles. She knew of them and had met some of them, but that wasn’t until she became an adult. She was a purely indoor cat until something happened and she became a stray. She didn’t know much about the world and Macavity found it easy to manipulate her. It was Bombalurina, Macavity’s other mistress, who really taught her how to survive. After escaping Macavity, Bombalurina brought her to her human family, who already had three other cats, but they accepted her anyway. There are five humans in the family and they liked the idea of having a cat for each of them. She is now considered the cat of the adult female of the house. The last one had died, but now there was a new one, and a new cat to go with her.

Pouncival:

Pouncival has a habit of following bad influences. Jellylorum has begun to wonder if he might actually want to be a bad boy. All the tom kittens look up to Tugger, but Pouncival also looks up to Mungojerrie, who enjoys teaching him things that he’s not supposed to know, including several swear words. He taught said words to Tumblebrutus and Etcetera. Jerrie also told him a bunch of stories about his adventures in the criminal underworld, so he now knows how to get away with various petty crimes, a bunch of tips when it comes to mating with queens, and how it’s possible to mate with other toms, along with some tips about that as well. This information was also spread to Tumblebrutus and Etcetera, who naturally wanted to know every single detail. Mungojerrie is not allowed in Jellylorum’s den.

Victoria:

Victoria is adopted. She lives in Jellylorum’s den and was raised with Pouncival, Tumblebrutus, and Etcetera. Her human family is very wealthy and their last cat was some kind of show cat. Jellylorum seems to believe that this makes Victoria some kind of feline royalty and she was raised like a princess. Munkustrap has also taken to treating her like she might be in the Deuteronomy family, though if she was, he wouldn’t know. Victoria, though naturally graceful and ladylike, doesn’t really care about any of this. She’s kept under more supervision than Etcetera and Jellylorum says that that’s because she’s different, but Victoria has no idea how or why. The other kittens don’t treat her as different. She has a pretty collar and she’s a good dancer, so the other girls sometimes envy her a little, but, at the end of the day, she’s a fairly ordinary young queen.

Jellylorum:

Jellylorum’s human is a man who lives alone with his cats. He considers Jelly to be his best friend. Despite this, there’s a lot about her life that he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that she has a den in the garden where her stray father and brother live. When she brought four kittens into the house, he didn’t know that only two of them were biologically hers. He adopted and named them all. He thought Victoria looked regal and named her after Queen Victoria. He also had no idea that Victoria already had an owner somewhere else. He named the two toms Percival and Brutus. Their mother sort of renamed them after their habits of pouncing and tumbling. Etcetera was the fourth one and the human didn’t seem as interested in her, so he named her Etcetera to mean the end of the list. Jellylorum didn’t challenge this, because she thought the name sounded pretty. She sometimes wonders if Etcetera’s troublemaking is the result of a sense of inferiority from being named like that. Then she remembers that Pouncival is just as much of a troublemaker as his sister. If it’s not clear by now, Jelly’s life pretty much revolves around her family. She prefers it that way.

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kat-katsuki · 3 years

Text

Sunflower and White Rose | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader Part 1

Fantasy AU

Genre: Drama

Masterlist

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

WC: 2.4k

The northern tribe of the dragon riders had a tradition. Every year, the tribe holds a fire festival, also known as the coming-of-age festival, to celebrate those step foot into adulthood. All the 16 year olds will gather around the bon fire to dance with their partners. It is said that lovers who dance together will be blessed by the fire god, and their love will last for all their lifetimes to come.

Bakugou Katsuki was prince of the tribe, and the bravest, most skilled dragon rider of their generation. He is the dream man of almost all the young ladies in the tribe. This year, he was to come of age. The young fifteen and fourteen year olds cried to their parents, asking why they weren’t born a year or two earlier.

Little did they know the young prince already had his eyes on someone. You.

You were quite the black sheep of the tribe. The tribe was full of dragon shapeshifters and riders. Your people were known for bravery and freedom. Children were taught at a young age how to soar through the sky, whether it be on their own wings, or riding a winged one. You, on the other hand, were terrified of heights.

You were often made fun of by your peers. Even Bakugou himself had once made fun of you for being a coward when the two of you were just children.

However, you had the kindest soul the world has to offer. Even though you were the laughingstock of your generation, you never got mad or embarrassed. You simply smiled and treated everyone with respect. You weren’t jealous of those who soared the sky. Instead you focused on the wonders the earth had to offer.

Because you were neither a rider nor a shapeshifter, you made good friends with Midoriya Izuku, the young outsider who lived a few miles outside the tribe. He and his mother had moved here when he was very little. Although the tribe had a reputation for being savages and fearful of outsiders, the dragon tribe was actually very welcoming. Bakugou’s mother made friends with Midoriya’s mother almost immediately, and Midoriya was raised alongside of the youngsters of the tribe. However, because Bakugou often made fun of Midoriya for being scrawny and weak, Midoriya had few friends in the village. Midoriya’s mother was a healer, so Midoriya too, studied medicine.

You were always fascinated by herbs and flowers, so you often went to Midoriya’s house to learn from them. When you weren’t at their house, you often laid in the flowerbed, enjoying the scent of nature.

How Bakugou fell for you was an accident, literally. He and Kirishima, his dragon, were soaring through the skies, practicing the new tricks they’ve learned, and that was when the accident happened. Bakugou lost balance, and accidentally steered Kirishima into a large boulder on the top of the mountain, and the two fell right onto the flowerbed you were laying on. Thousands of flowers were crushed under the large red dragon, petals and pollen scattered into the sky and then falling down like rain.

You stood in the sea of flowers, wide eyed. The prince had fallen. The best rider of the tribe had fallen. You quickly rushed over to the fallen prince and his dragon. Kirishima was protected by his strong and sturdy scales, so he only ended up with scratch wounds and maybe a concussion. Bakugou, on the other hand, broke his left arm.

When Bakugou saw you his eyes widened with horror as his face turned into a deep shade of crimson. Someone had saw him fall out of the sky. Of all people to see him embarrass himself, it was you, the loser of the tribe. “Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone about this! Or else I’ll kill you!” he threatened you.

“O-Okay!” You nodded timidly. “B-But your arm is broken. It needs to get treated immediately or-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! I DON’T NEED HELP FROM A FUCKING FAILURE!” He slapped your hand away.

“Katsuki that’s not very nice. She’s just trying to help!” Kirishima said when he transformed back into his human form. Despite his insults, you didn’t hesitate to help him and Kirishima to a small cave far away from the village, where they can rest and heal in peace. Normally, when dragons or riders get injured, they’d call a shaman to do a few chants, and let the gods heal their wound. Herbs and medicine are foreign practices that were not used in the tribe, so when you brought the medicine you had made for the prince and his dragon, he refused to let you put it on him.

Kirishima, on the other hand, was very open to these foreign stuff. He let you put your homemade creams on his scrape wounds to stop the bleeding. “Oh man this feels so good! Katsuki you gotta try it!”

After a lot of persuading, Bakugou finally let you put some medicine on his scrape wounds. The cream stung at first, but after the stinging sensation was over, it left a cool feeling on his skin that soothed the pain. Bakugou couldn’t help but notice how the wounds healed much faster with the strange green plant juice you put on him than the chants of the shaman. Eventually, he let you wrap his arm to a stick, which you said will help his arm heal.

You tore the cloth to your dress, shortening it to barely over your butt. You gently raised his broken left arm, placed two straight logs to either side of his arm, and wrapped the cloth around them. Only then did Bakugou finally take a closer look at you for the first time in his entire life. For a failure, you were breathtakingly beautiful. Your (e/c) orbs seemed to sparkle under the moonlight, and from your (h/c) hair, he could smell a faint scent of flowers.

Every day you’d come back with food, water, and medicine. While Kirishima’s wounds were healed a long time ago, he waited with Bakugou for his arm to recover. Before Bakugou knew it, he began looking forward to seeing you everyday.

You almost always had cuts and bruises on you somewhere. Bakugou knew exactly how you got those. Ever since you were a kid you were always bullied by the other children in the village. You and Midoriya were always the targets of their rock throwing and sharp shooting practices. Although Bakugou never bothered to join in, he used to always scoff at your miserable state. Now, seeing those dark purple patches over your skin, he could only feel his blood boil. “Who did it?” he’d ask, but you would only show him that annoyingly goofy smile of yours, telling him that you fell, when you clearly didn’t.

He didn’t know why he felt a strange disappointment inside him when you told him he was fully healed. “You can go back now,” you said.

“Alright! Now we can go flying again!” Kirishima cheered.

Bakugou stared at his left arm, now good as new. Your medicine worked miracles. He couldn’t even find a single scar on his body. You left before he could tell you ‘thank you.’ Just like that, he and Kirishima went back to the village. The moment they arrived, they were surrounded by their friends and family, asking them where they’ve been the past few weeks. It was then that he realized he never once thanked you for saving him and keeping his secret.

Since then he’s had his eyes on you. Every time he spotted you in the crowd his eyes would follow wherever you went. Whenever he went flying with Kirishima, they’d always fly over the same flowerbed to see if you were there.

Kirishima quickly caught onto the feelings of the young prince. Whenever they saw you at the flowerbed, Kirishima would lie that he’s tired and needs a rest. He’d land at the flowerbed just so Bakugou could be with you. However, despite Kirishima’s efforts, Bakugou never seem to know what to say to you. He’d try to ask what you were up to, but the words that came out of his mouth were, “Hey coward, here sniffing flowers again?”

You’d always give him the same goofy, and slightly timid smile with your signature, “Ehehe” chuckle. Kirishima would nudge Bakugou and tell him to go talk to you, but Bakugou just sat there watching you pick herbs, refusing to utter another word to you because he knew nothing good will ever come out of his mouth.

He always sees you bringing home injured little animals: birds, squirrels, rabbits, fawns. Instead of eating them like what the other people in your tribe would do, you treated their wounds and released them back into the wild. You were just so weird, weirder than that outsider Midoriya. But for some reason Bakugou can’t get his mind off of you.

Finally, it was the awaited day before the fire festival. On this day, all the sixteen year olds of the tribe will be participating in the flower exchange event. Flower exchange is the special event held the day before the fire festival for the new adults to find partners. It is also the traditional day where the young adults declare their love for one another. Of course, it is common for some people who don’t have a love interest in mind to partner up as friends, and for some people to wait for their younger significant other to turn sixteen before choosing a partner. However, for most sixteen year olds, this is the most important day of their life.

Bakugou had already planned everything out in his head. He’s going to ask you to be his partner. He practiced day and night so that he won’t accidentally call you harsh names. He swore that this would be the one day where he won’t say anything mean to you. He’ll tell you how he feels, and ask you to be his partner, his lover, the one who would forever be with him for their many lifetimes to come.

He had your favorite flower in his hand, a ghost of a smile on his face. He had watched you pick flowers for months. He had noticed how your eyes would always soften, and your lips would always curve upward when you saw this particular flower. The white rose.

Everyone else were holding such vibrant colors in their hand, red being the most common. Red roses, red salvia, tulips, violets, peonies, buttercups, you name it. He had always wondered why you were so obsessed with this plain looking flower. Your taste in flower was just as unique as your fear of heights.

Flower exchange was held at the center of the village. Every year the entire village would come to watch the youngsters exchange flowers. It can easily be deemed the most important event of the year. A swarm of girls and boys ran up to Bakugou, asking to exchange flowers with him. “FUCK OFF EXTRAS!” Bakugou growled at them as he violently searched for your silhouette in the crowd. Weird… He knew for a fact you turned sixteen this year. Heck he even saw the shitty Deku, who was invited by Mitsuki to join the tradition. He held a sunflower in his hand, and stood at the corner looking almost uncomfortable to be there. His face was a dark shade of crimson, and his legs trembled.

“Pfft! Sunflower? Who brings a sunflower to flower exchange?” Bakugou could hear a few people laugh at the young green haired teenager, and he just scoffed in agreement.

Kirishima had exchanged flowers with his childhood friend, Ashido Mina. You were still nowhere to be found.

Soon, most of the new adults were already partnered up, clearing the area. “Prince, will you be my partner?” girls kept swarming around him, and he had to push past them to find the familiar (h/c) silhouette.

That was when he saw you.

He expected you to stand there awkwardly. He expected you to be without a partner.

He didn’t expect you to show up without a flower.

You stood there kicking the pebble by your feet, a hint of sadness in the depth of your eyes. “(Y/N)-chan where’s your flower?” Mitsuki asked.

“Ehehe~” you smiled at the wife of the chief and scratched the back of your head almost guiltily. “I forgot about that.”

“Bet she knows that no one’s going to partner with her, so she just didn’t bring one,” someone laughed.

The smile never left your face, but Bakugou had a strong urge to punch them in the face. What was he going to do now? Exchange of flower symbolizes exchange of love. Did you not bring any flower because you had no love to give? Or was it true that you just forgot?

Whatever. None of that matters. He was going to give his flower to you no matter what. “(Y-”

“(Y/N)-chan. If you don’t have a flower, I’ll give you mine!” Midoriya stepped in front of you and held out his sunflower to you, pink dusting over his freckled cheeks. Bakugou froze, wide eyed.

“Izuku what about you? Aren’t you going to exchange flowers with someone?” you asked your friend.

“Well, it’s not like someone is going to partner with an outsider like me for something as important as the fire festival. This is such an important tradition to your culture, you should take it,” Midoriya placed the sunflower in your hand. “In fact I was….actually going to give it to you in the first place….”

“Psh! Outsider and loser, how fitting.”

Mitsuki shot a glare at whoever uttered those words.

You just smiled at Midoriya, and asked, “Then you wanna be partners for the fire festival?”

The white rose fell from Bakugou’s hand. At that moment it was as if the sky came crashing down on him, weighing over his shoulders, pinning him to the ground. He was the prince, the next king of the dragon tribe, yet the only person he has ever loved, asked someone else to be her partner. The people around them dove to the ground fighting for the rose that fell. Almost in an instant, the poor flower was torn to shreds, just like his heart.

He ran.

He could only run. He had to get away before he puked on site. Why…? Why? Why?! WHY?!! Why the shitty Deku?!

The necklaces clattered, and the cape on his back fluttered with the wind. His teeth were clenched and his sharp nails dug into his palm. He was furious at you, furious at Deku, but most of all he was furious at himself. Why didn’t he go up to you before Deku? Why did he run away without even attempting to ask you. He always called you a coward, but he was the true coward.

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Also on AO3! A kudos would be greatly appreciated!

#bnha fanfic #bnha #mha #mha fanfic #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha fantasy au #boku no hero academia #boku no hero x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #drama #romance #white rose #sunflower #my hero academia

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ccohanlon · 2 years

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sealand

The first foreign yachts turn up in the Pittwater, north of Sydney, Australia, around the end of September, just as the warm nor’easterly breezes set in and coastal dwellers are reassured that the winter has ended. Most have made the long passage non-stop south from Queensland harbours, standing well off the rock-strewn New South Wales coast to take advantage of the fast, south-flowing East Australian Current. Some have sailed further — from the Solomon Islands or Vanuatu or Fiji – and have had to beat a couple of thousand nautical miles to windward against brisk south-easterly trade winds to get out of tropical latitudes before the cyclone season begins.

It’s easy to recognise the long-distance cruisers. They have a rugged, purposeful aspect, with short, sturdy, over-rigged masts and wide decks to which are lashed anchors, boat hooks, small dinghies, surfboards, gas bottles and rows of plastic jerry cans. Their cockpits are shaded by wide sun-awnings, their hatches by weather-worn, folding canvas dodgers that look like old-fashioned pram hoods. Above their transoms, makeshift stainless steel structures support angled arrays of solar cells and propeller-driven wind generators, as well as radar reflectors, and radar, radio and GPS antennae. Faded ensigns flutter from backstays or short flagstaves to signal the vessels’, if not always the crews’, nationalities.

Foreign yachts tend to congregate, three or four at a time, on the western side of the wide, sheltered bay, where there are a few anchorages and fewer moorings designated by the state’s Maritime Services as suitable for ‘live-aboard’ visitors – as long as they don’t over-stay their welcome. Even if the authorities turn a blind eye, and they do, sometimes, the welcome is unlikely to last long. Crews are allowed to live aboard for just two weeks consecutively in the same anchorage. The half dozen suburbs that surround the Pittwater are some of Sydney’s wealthiest, and their ratepayers, especially those with high-value waterfront properties, are loathe to share their views (or anything else) for too long with scruffy interlopers who don’t pay utility bills, let alone local rates and taxes.

It’s a sentiment — and, increasingly, a set of by-laws — they share with shore-dwellers around Sydney Harbour, Port Hacking, Port Melbourne and along the Swan and Brisbane Rivers.

The petty squabble between urban shore dweller and visiting seafarer in Australia’s coastal suburbs is really just a recasting of the bitter, millennia-old conflict between settler and nomad, a social, economic and spiritual rift that in other parts of the world see-saws between bloody skirmish and nervous stand-off.

The nomad isn’t an indiscriminate traveller. Although the name is derived from the Greek word nomos (pasture) and the Latin nomas (those who wander in search of pasture), the nomad doesn’t wander, but rather follows a well-established, cyclical route to a series of temporary campsites next to pastures or water sources that can support a small tribe and its animals for all or part of a season. As the late Bruce Chatwin observed in his untidy essay, Nomad Invasions, in the collection What am I doing here? (Penguin, 1990), "Nomadism is born of wide expanses, ground too barren for the farmer to cultivate economically – savannah, steppe, desert and tundra, all of which will support an animal population providing it moves."

Later he notes, "a nomad’s territory is the path linking his seasonal pastures." But the very notion of territory is born of settlement. It is necessarily somewhere defined not just by boundaries but by claims of ownership. When nomads’ traditional routes intersect anywhere claimed (by settlers) as territory – whether it’s the fenced perimeters of private property or an invisible state or national border – it is interpreted as trespass or, worse, invasion. The nomad’s innate disregard for territory is almost incomprehensible to the settler, whose first instinct is to restrict or refuse access. The nomad is characterised by a stubborn insistence on wide-ranging movement with few encumbrances and little desire for prolonged occupation, let alone possession, of any one place. Such lack of containment is almost spiritually troubling to the settler for whom the acquisition, development and protection of land and goods are intrinsic to his sense of self, security and belonging.

Long-distance seafarers are, and always were, a type of nomad too. The safety of their voyages, especially under sail, is dependent on seasonal shifts in monsoonal wind directions or the strength of trade winds, the intensity of temperate latitude depressions, the locations of permanent anti-cyclones with their persistent calms and fog, and the risk of cyclones, typhoons or hurricanes. Except for large, engine-powered, commercial ships — their movements determined only by trade and the efficient, economic transport of heavy cargoes regardless of season — the ideal timing and routes for ocean passages have been the same for more than two thousand years.

Hundreds of generations of seafarers have recorded their observations of the sea surface, wind and sky, as well as the arc of stars and planets along these routes. They’ve passed them on in narratives — Polynesian mele, Icelandic sagas, Arabic instructional rahmanis — or as notations in log books and on charts, even as diagrams constructed from intricately bound sticks and shells. For example, in a passage from a rahmani known as Fa’ida of the Kitab al-Fawa’id, near the end of a section titled 'Seasons for leaving the Arabian coast', the renowned fifteenth century Arab mu’allim (navigator) and poet Ahmad Bin Majid warned of the intensity of the South-West Monsoon during summer in the Arabian Gulf: "Intelligent men never make this journey during the three months when the Dahur is at full strength for then it is a gamble … For these ninety days the sea is closed and he who would cross it deserves to be unhappy. From the agony of loneliness and remorse, so much anxiety and suffering."

Today, the routing charts, tidal atlases and sailing directions published by various governments’ hydrographic offices are simply the ongoing refinement of knowledge gathered and shared over several centuries by navigators around the world. This sharing is probably the oldest, maybe the only, ongoing tradition upheld by every nation with maritime interests. Part of the reason it endures is that the seafarer’s ‘territory’, the vast, refuge-less oceans beyond national territorial waters (and other, more arbitrary demarcations), doesn’t really belong to anyone.

Men first took to the sea in prehistoric times, but they learned to navigate – and so became seafarers – between four and five thousand years ago. Since then, man has headed out into deep waters to fish, trade, explore, migrate, invade, plunder, colonise, compete, conduct research and look for adventure. However, it wasn’t until the twentieth century that living on the sea was explored as an alternative to land-based urban or rural settlement. A word for it, ‘seasteading’, was coined in the 1970s to evoke the spirit of nineteenth-century pioneers who first settled the wide, open plains of the central and mid-western United States under the land grants of the Homestead Act.

Water-borne communities, both fixed and mobile, aren’t a new idea. They have existed on inlets, estuaries, canals and other sheltered waterways around the world for longer than men have sailed offshore. However, those which survive today – the river people of the Mekong, the Hoklo and Tanka junk communities in Hong Kong, the Uros who weave the floating tortora reed islands of Lake Titicaca, even the bargees who ply the canals and rivers of northern Europe – rely on proximity and inextricable social and economic connections to shore-bound communities.

Seasteading is about living alone or in small groups or communities with little dependence on shore-bound resources, mainly on the open sea but also off isolated reefs, islands or coastlines. How this is actually accomplished lies at the heart of an ongoing argument between two fundamentally divergent traditions: seafaring and sea-settling.

"The model of seastead I suggest is based upon a sailboat that has been built or modified to provide an individual or family a home on the sea,’ writes the American author and former ‘live-aboard’, Jerome FitzGerald, in his book, Seasteading: A Life of Hope and Freedom on the Last Viable Frontier (Universe, 2006). As he points out, "The oceans are truly vast. Hundreds of thousands of miles of coastline remain uninhabited because the skills have not been acquired to live within this sometimes harsh environment. Thousands of islands as well remain empty due to lack of infrastructure and modern conveniences … Properly and thoughtfully equipped, a modest sailboat can be a very nearly self-sufficient entity suitable as a life-support platform for exploring these areas.”

James Wharram, a renowned English designer of sailing catamarans inspired by traditional Polynesian designs and techniques, and the first man to sail a multi-hull across the Atlantic, agrees with Fitzgerald. Thirty years ago, in an essay entitled The Sailing Community, he proposed a nomadic, 20th century tribe of ‘sea people’: handfuls of individuals and families living on their own catamarans to avoid, as he put it, "proximity difficulties which can lead to social stress", with a much larger ‘mother ship’ owned by all the families as its hub. The mother ship would be regarded as shared space or ‘territory’, not as an extension of each family’s ‘home’. Manned by a crew made up of members of each family, he suggested it would carry additional victuals, fuel, tools and spares, as well as accommodate communal spaces, an office and workshop for use at anchor.

The sea-settler’s preoccupation with ‘freedom’ is less easily understood by the seafarer.

"Seasteading means to create permanent dwellings on the ocean," Patri Friedman, one of the participants in the San Francisco-based Seasteading Project, argues. The project aims "to build sovereign, self-sufficient floating platforms, thus creating new territory on the oceans" – in other words, to colonise what is still referred to in inter-governmental legal terminology as ‘the high seas’, the wide tracts of ocean over which no nation has sovereignty. To seafarers, the Seasteading Project and others like it that propose purpose-built permanent or fixed structures, either on the sea’s surface or beneath it – civilian and military researchers have been living and working for extended periods in underwater ‘habitats’ since the 1960s, mainly inshore, at depths above fifty metres – are simply an expression of an archetypal shore-bound ‘settler’ mentality. Comparatively spacious, stable emulations of an island, they’re designed for a few to live on at first and then, following a pattern of scalability apparent in nineteenth-century North American home-steading communities, to expand with additional components, platforms and population to become a fully fledged sea-borne colony supported by what Friedman dubs (a little too cutely) a ‘seaconomy’. Inherent in the creation of such a colony is the ambition to proclaim it an independent ocean state, or what James H. Lee refers to in his paper Castles in the Sea: A survey of artificial islands and floating utopias as a ‘microtopia’ – in some ways, a virtual concept: a self-governing micro-nation founded atop a man-made, geographically non-specific fixed or floating space.

None of this is of much interest to seafarers. They have long known how to work around governmental strictures and retain a large measure of freedom. For example, the seafarer’s ‘floating space’ is required by international law to be ‘flagged’ – registered in the country in which its majority owner is either a citizen or resident. In practice, this is subverted by ‘flags of convenience’: the legal owners of many vessels, including yachts, are corporations set up in countries where taxes are lower or government maritime regulations less strict. As a result, a vessel can sail under the sovereignty of Panama, the Channel Islands, Mauritius or Thailand, for example, without ever having visited the home port inscribed on its transom. Moreover, its captain and crew will probably be a mix of nationalities, none the same as the vessel’s. Their certificates of competency, the seafarer’s equivalent of operating licences, might be issued by yet other nations.

Even a seafarer’s tax status can be moot. Although a tax domicile (the country to which one reports and pays taxes) is not normally something workers get to negotiate, seafarers who rarely set foot in their own countries – and have no property or other holdings there – and whose income is derived entirely from foreign or ‘offshore’ sources (especially those in opaque tax havens), are deemed by many nations to be ‘residents of the high seas’ and legally untaxable.

The sea-settler’s apparent preoccupation with ‘freedom’ is less easily understood by the seafarer. The rural nomad’s migration is, as Chatwin describes it, "a ritual performance, a 'religious' catharsis, revolutionary in the strictest sense in that each pitching and breaking of camp represents a new beginning". The pelagic nomad’s succession of voyages – during which, according to tradition, a course is never set ‘to’ a particular port but rather, less precisely, ‘towards’ it – are an actual and spiritual disconnection from the enervating sameness of settled life. The disciplined, ceaseless routine of working a vessel at sea can be hard and dull, but there is always a jittery awareness of possibility, of change, just beyond the horizon. At sea, nothing remains the same for very long – and every landfall is another opportunity.

The current British Admiralty chart, Singapore to Song Sai Gon and the Gulf of Thailand, is one of the few still published that uses fathoms and feet rather than metres, although it is modern enough to have surrendered soundings inside the ten-fathom line to an insipid pale blue – preferred by a generation of mariners who find older, more detailed and beautiful, monochromatic engravings hard to read. The chart is commonly used by vessels en route between the world’s two busiest ports, Hong Kong and Singapore, and two of its most congested sea passages, the Singapore Straits and the pirate-infested Malaccan Straits. A large-scale survey of 1:500,000, it covers nearly three thousand square nautical miles of sea.

A cursory look at this chart underscores the stark difference between seafarer and sea-settler. Sea-settlers are looking to the sea for room to establish new physical, social and political structures. Seafarers are just looking for sea-room, uncrowded, easily navigable open water with only the vagaries of the weather and sea-state to worry them. For the seafarer, sea-room – not a fixed structure, not the shore – is where safety, rest and freedom are found. And yet within this one relatively small, enclosed area of sea, which is similar to many others, such as the Mediterranean or North Seas, the Persian Gulf, or the Gulf coasts of Texas or Louisiana, real sea-room is hard to find, even without the hundreds of islands, drying reefs, sandbanks, isolated rocks and shallows that are natural hazards to navigation. More than seventy nautical miles offshore, on a line extending north-west for nearly five hundred nautical miles along the east coasts of Malaysia and Thailand, there are more than a dozen gas and oil fields. Associated with each of them are scores of production and pipeline platforms, tanker moorings and storage tankers, as well as uncharted exploration rigs. Inshore are marine farms and fishing stakes, few of them charted and none of them lit, all frequented by motor-driven, undecked canoes and outriggers – as well as a score of military exercise areas and firing ranges. Even the relatively shallow sea bottom is encumbered with wrecks, pipelines, telecommunication cables, submarine exercise areas and explosive dumping grounds.

At night, in these tropical waters, there are so many tankers, cargo-carriers, warships, trawlers and long-liners, pilot boats, tugs (many with barges under tow), ferries and pleasure boats that the diffused glow of their navigation lights resembles a city sprawling across the seaward horizon.

The last thing any seafarer wants is another structure, permanent or mobile, impeding a safe passage offshore. Yet the sea-settler, whose understanding of the sea is less practical and probably more romantic, dreams of man-made islands. These would more closely resemble an oil rig – if only because the complex engineering required to anchor a large, liveable structure in deep water and protect and its occupants – rather than the Disney-like artificial atoll developed as retreats for the rich off the coast of Dubai. Such structures, however they look, will be regarded by seafarers as an unwelcome hazard, interfering with safe navigation to and from adjacent coasts, fouling fishing grounds and probably requiring vessels – as vulnerable offshore oil and gas platforms do – to stand at least half a kilometre clear of them.

The piratical tradition appears to be what inspires the most passion in modern sea-settlers.

If the plethora of seasteading documents to be found online is any indication, sea-settlers are a lot less taken with the stolid quotidian routine of living and working on the sea than they are with the idea of reconfiguring the autonomous island state as an anarchic, or at least extra-national, social, political and economic experiment, akin to the ‘pirate utopias’ described by the cultish American political writer Peter Lamborn Wilson in his 1995 book, Pirate Utopias: Moorish Corsairs and European Renegadoes (Autonomedia, 1996). Wilson, who is also known as Hakim Bey, envisaged, "Remote hideouts where ships could be watered and provisioned … some of these islands supported 'intentional communities', whole mini-societies living consciously outside the law and determined to keep it up, even if only for a short but merry life." One seventeenth-century enclave, the tiny, self-proclaimed Pirate Republic of Salé in Morrocco, was so successful as a safe haven for Muslim corsairs – the so-called ‘Barbary pirates’ – it became a sea power in its own right and negotiated treaties and mercenary alliances with various Mediterranean powers. This piratical tradition appears to be what inspires the most passion in modern sea-settlers. In Seasteading: The Second to Last Frontier, an article published three years ago in The Yale Free Press, Ben Darrington wrote: "Seasteading would provide an easier way for people who do not like their governments to set up new countries at sea where they could make new rules. Mobile ocean settlements would allow these new states to locate in more useful or less contested waters. This means more experimentation and innovation with different social, political, and economic systems and more competition to create efficient government. Certain businesses are perfectly suited to platforms: material industries such as oil and aquaculture can be self-governed and tax-free, and service industries such as casinos, offshore banking, and data havens avoid some of the existing domestic problems with vice laws, copyright restrictions, and government intrusion or revenue-seeking. Just as pariah individuals and groups seek the freedom of the frontier, pariah industries can ply their trade there, taking the benefits as well as the consequences upon themselves." Unfortunately, Darrington ignores the almost insurmountable legal intricacies of establishing a legitimate micro-nation offshore today. The United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea Treaty (LoST) rejects claims of territory or special economic standing by private owners of extra-national human-made islands or structures. Even before the ratification of LoST in 1982, the few ill-advised and makeshift attempts to create offshore micro-nations all ended in failure. REM Island was a floating platform built in Northern Ireland and towed to the North Sea off the coast of the Netherlands, in 1964 – the same year that the infamous ‘pirate’ Radio Caroline began broadcasting from a ship anchored in international waters off the English east coast port of Felixstowe. REM housed a ‘pirate’ broadcaster, Radio and TV Noordzee, for four months until the Royal Dutch Navy shut it down. The Republic of Rose, established in 1967 by an Italian engineer, Giorgio Rosa, on a four hundred square metre platform he erected in the Adriatic Sea off the coast of Rimini, was destroyed within a year by Italian Navy sappers after Rosa was arrested for tax evasion. In 1972, a wealthy Las Vegas-based real estate developer, Michael Oliver, tried to raise foreign investment to turn Minerva Reefs, a group of semi-submerged coral reefs 260 miles south-west of the Pacific kingdom of Tonga, into a two and half thousand hectare atoll and micro-nation, the Republic of Minerva. A luckless Australian contractor had managed to dredge enough coral, shell and sand to create a couple of hectares of barren cay above the high-water mark when a Tongan prison labour gang, dispatched by King Taufa’ahau Tupou IV, landed on it and claimed it as Tongan sovereign territory. In the aftermath of these episodes, the Administrative Court of Cologne in West Germany held that "a man-made artificial platform … cannot be called either 'a part of the earth’s surface' or 'land territory' and only structures which make use of a specific piece of the earth’s surface can be recognised as 'State territory' within the meaning of international law." The court referred to the 1933 Montevideo Convention on the Rights and Duties of States which outlined four very broad criteria for statehood: a permanent population; defined territory; government; and capacity to enter into relations with other states.

They emerged from a russet haze at twilight, just five nautical miles from the coast of Suffolk — a pair of grimy cement towers spanned by a rust-flecked steel tabletop. A fast, flooding tide churned the cold, mud-brown North Sea around them, and low waves edged with wind-blown spume spilled away like the wake of a ship. In the dying light, the persistent impression was that the whole structure was moving.

We were aboard a thirty-eight-foot, schooner-rigged catamaran on a passage ‘down Channel’ from Lowestoft, running fast before an easy nor’easterly that we prayed we might carry as far as the Scilly Isles and out into the Atlantic.

All afternoon, the low coastline to leeward of us had been a thin, grey-brown smudge, pierced here and there by a sliver of church spire or chimney. As much to relieve our boredom as to satisfy a mild curiosity, we plotted a course inshore towards a tiny symbol on the chart marked ‘fort’. This was all that indicated the existence of Sealand, the only surviving, man-made microtopia, a pioneering seastead that had somehow clung to independence and crypto-sovereignty for over forty years.

We caught a whiff of something dank and fishy on the wind.

Paddy Bates, an entrepreneurial pirate radio broadcaster, took over what was then a decommissioned World War II gun emplacement and fortified barracks in 1967. HM Fort Roughs had been built above the Rough Sands bank off Harwich to deter the Germans from mining the approaches to this strategically important port. Renamed Sealand by Bates, who renamed himself ‘Prince Roy’, its history since then has been colourful – armed stand-offs with the British Navy, court challenges to its self-proclaimed sovereignty, armed invasion by German and Dutch civilians and the kidnap of Prince Roy’s son, indirect links to passport scams and other crimes, failed business ventures and even fires. A decade or so ago, Sealand finally established a modest ‘national’ economy when a data-hosting company, HavenCo, set up its servers within the fort and turned it into a discreet, secure, offshore data haven. Tourists are rarely welcome. There was plenty of water beneath our shallow keels so we circled the fort at a distance of a cable or so before rounding up down-tide of it. We let the boat fore-reach slowly into the flood for a few minutes as we took a closer look. A squat, flat-roofed bungalow straddled the tabletop. The shadowy lip of a helicopter pad hung out over the sea. Tendrils of green-black marine vegetation and crusty barnacles clung to the mottled cement and we caught a whiff of something dank and fishy on the wind. It was drear and foreboding, with scant evidence of any human presence. I tried to imagine how grim an urban dystopia would have to be to compel me to take refuge in this outpost, even for a day. It was more like a prison than a version of paradise. We put the helm a-lee and let the catamaran drift astern before turning away from the wind. Slack sheets rattled in their blocks as the sails filled again. The hulls lifted and the wide decks flexed a little as the catamaran began to make way. Sealand fell away astern. For a moment, it felt as if we were fleeing for our lives.

First published in Griffith Review, Australia, 2006.

#seasteading #sealand #seanomads #piracy #micronations #lawofthesea

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talas-starlight · 4 years

Text

Scarred Spirit - Zuko x fem! reader (pt.3)

SUMMARY: this takes place around the end of book 1 - but uhhhh I deadass don’t know how to give a summary for this without giving anything away soooo enjoy!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNINGS: mentions of death and suicide. Scars. Swearing. Non- sexual nudity. Nightmares. Panic attack ish. mention of torture.

KEY: italics = internal thoughts & *** = flashback

OTHER PARTS: pt1 / pt2 / pt4 / pt5 / pt6

MASTERLIST: Here!

You’d been walking in the back streets of the capital with your face turned to the sun for the past two hours. The black mask shielding the bottom half of your face hid the sigh that left your lips as you finally approached the palace.

Fucking finally.

Even though you were a Fire bender, it didn’t make it any less annoying as the sun blistered down of the completely black outfit you were wearing. It covered every piece of your skin from your neck, down to your feet. Even your scarred fingertips were hidden from the world.

As you neared the gates, they immediately began to open, inviting you in with open arms. This made you one of the few people, apart from the royal family, that didn’t need to prove their identity to get in. All the guards knew who you were and what you did for the Fire Lord, promoting you from being a prisoner to one of the most well looked after people in the entire Nation. Technically, they were never instructed to provide you with immediate access. Yet, as rumours spread throughout the palaces’ echoing halls, their fear of you doing what you did to all those people when out on missions, seemed to override those basic routines.

Normally you’d scoff at how silly it all was, the fact that they feared a 16-year-old girl almost made you feel sorry for them. As guards of the Nation they should stand with pride and confidence. You suppose that’s what happens when even though they don’t see it, they have nothing to be prideful about considering who their current ruler is. Regardless, today you appreciated their diligence, storming through the gates, and making your way straight to the throne room. You didn’t even give anyone an initial glance. You were pissed. This had been the fourth mission in a row where you were sent to take out some random high position person from some other nation. All this travelling back and forth began to get on your nerves.

Maybe it was from the heightened stress of the most recent task. This one, in particular, set you off because of the minimal information you had to take them out. All you were provided with was that they were from the Water Tribe, and had been at sea in a fleet for multiple years, taking down Fire Nation units.

Gee thanks! Give me a few weeks, and I’ll track down this mysterious person you don’t even know the name of and be on my way! Hmmm, now my first plan of action will be to flip a gold piece to decide if I should swim to the Northern or the Southern tribe to gather intel! Just you wait Ozai. I’ll take that stupid, pathetic, floppy thing you call a beard and drag you into the fire in front of your throne you piece of-

Abruptly cutting off your internal rant, you walked past the guards who immediately opened the doors to the throne room as they saw you approaching; noticing the long braid down your back alit in your raged fire. Reaching the middle of the throne room you didn’t even bother to bow, throwing a Water Tribe necklace splattered in blood to the ground. “It’s done.”

The guard closest to you hastily picked it up and climbed the stairs to hand it to Ozai for an inspection. Eyeing the tribal necklace in the guards’ hand, he made no move to take it away from him physically. Ironic how he has slaughtered so many yet refuses to get real blood on his hands.

“Prove yourself.”

You instantly provided him with the report you memorised on how you conducted the mission with details on an weekly basis. This ensured you actually went through with the assassination- you suggested that you could bring back their head two years ago, but apparently that was too gruesome to be in the presence of the great Fire Lord. There were no pauses or stutters as you rehearsed it on your journey back to the capital.

“Present the details of the savage.”

You held back a sigh, this was always your least favourite part. “The person you sent out for went by the name of Hakoda. He was of the Southern Water Tribe and Chief to one of its smaller villages. During my time undercover in the tribe, I acquired knowledge that his wife was disposed of under the assumption that she was the last Waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe and had two children. It is also to my knowledge that his children are currently travelling with the Avatar. Through making connections with the villagers, I set out to sea in search for him and managed to gain access and trust upon the main ship when they were docked in an isolated part of the Earth Kingdom for supplies. I went under an alias of a homeless non-bending orphan from the Northern Water Tribe wanting revenge on the Fire Nation for slaughtering my parents. When it came time to dispose of him, I did so in the middle of the night after faking a nightmare, seeking him out as a father figure for comfort. I used his own weapon against him as he held me, speaking words of comfort, expressing that I was safe and how I was like a daughter to him. A daughter who would have been a great older sister to his children. During this moment of emotional weakness for him, I assassinated him before he could have even registered that I would have been an awful sister. Leaving before dawn, I made the scene look like a suicide with a letter expressing in detail how being away from his children was too much to bear.”

Ozai looked up from the necklace, satisfied with the briefing. “Hmmm, well-done y/n. Tell me, what do you know of his children?”

“Nothing of great importance other than knowledge of them travelling with the Avatar.”

“Very well, you may have a day’s rest and will be informed of your next task tomorrow evening. Your payment for your services is already in your quarters.”

You bowed knowing you were lucky he let it slide when you walked in. “Thank you, my Fire Lord.”

Exiting the throne room, you made your way to your living quarters, looking forward to the sensation of washed hair, clean clothes, and your bed.

When you finally made it back to your room, you let out a sigh of relief immediately ripping off your mask. As the years went by, nothing seemed to get easier, and nothing seemed to stop. You cherished the moments of silence, the brief period of time where the universe aligned in such a way that you were able to pretend this wasn’t your life. One mission after another, constantly lying to do what needed to be done, amid all the alias’ you made up, you wondered which one really demonstrated who you were as a person. The idea of having to settle with the Fire Lord’s personal assassin didn’t necessarily make you giddy with pride.

You made your way to the bathtub that awaited you in the adjoining room, peeling off the once breathable fabric, off your body as you went. The tub was already full as the servants went to prepare it when they heard the word of your return. You finally unravelled the braid holding your hair together, yet another symbol of the job you committed yourself to. On the first day of training, you were told that if you were caught, your affiliation with the Fire Nation should be buried with you.

Your skin shuddered as you entered the chilled water, easing your mind that warm water would never satisfy in this Nation’s climate. You leant back with a small wince as your scarred back made contact with the tub. Growing up, it wasn’t uncommon for other assassins to have some form of physical scarring whether that be from training, a mission gone wrong, or punishment from their supervisor. In some unusual way, you were never insecure about it, only annoyed that you had to sleep in odd positions because of the sensitivity.

You began to drift, succumbing to the cool, soothing water around you. Between the stress of returning to the capital, and the stress that awaited you on your next task, you allowed yourself to let go. Free yourself of any thoughts. In your current state, you weren’t scarred. You weren’t trapped in what seemed like a never-ending cycle of duty. You weren’t anyone to anything.

As the moon began to shine through the windows into the bathroom, you woke up with a start, water splashing onto the tiles around you, your heart racing and sweat soaking the unsubmerged parts of your body. Running your hand through your hair, you fought the urge to let out an overwhelmed sob. Nightmares were a common occurrence for you, but this one settled under your skin like a scratch you would never be able to itch.

Air seemed to close in on your lungs, no matter how much you tried to calm yourself down, all you could focus on was the fact you couldn’t breathe. Hastily fumbling, and tripping as you got out of the tub, you forced yourself to reach for the first clean robe you could get your hands on. As your thoughts mixed into on jumbled heap, you desperately tried to get it together.

He believed you.

They all did, you knew it in the way that the guards struggled to hide back their expressions of discomfort as you described how you oh so easily manipulated a grown man, warrior, and chief, only to kill him.

It was a lie. All of it. Yet why did I dream of them finding out now?

You’ve never assassinated anyone since that general three years ago, and you most certainly never killed Hakoda. From the very moment you accepted the offer, you knew you’d never go through with the commissions. During the brief period when you trained and got back onto a healthy diet was when you mentally formulated how you would conduct each “killing”. It was simple, you’d carry out the mission as you normally would, but in the time you were supposed to spend working out how to dispose of them, you helped them create a new life for themselves. You didn’t bother trying to shield the truth from them, knew the Fire Lord wanted them dead. While it sent them into a panic, in the long run, it made everything a whole lot easier. They could never go by who they once were, and needed to move far, far, away from wherever they lived. The lives they once knew erased, cutting off all ties.

Idiot. Why did I have to make an exception now?

Instantly dismissing the question that wriggled its way into your head, you began to journey to the kitchens in desperate need for a distraction. You knew why you made the exception.

***

Three weeks ago, when you were on the ship with Hakoda, you did actually have a nightmare, prompting you to go out onto the deck to clear your mind. The air was crisp, eliciting goosebumps across your skin. Quickly letting out a breath of fire, you began to regulate your body temperature as you noticed Hakoda already looking out to the never-ending expanse of the ocean. As an experienced warrior, he heard you approach.

“Y/n? The moon has been out for a long time now, you should be asleep.”

Sighing, you stood next to him, joining him in looking out to the sea. “Nightmares.”

He nodded in understanding. “Do you want to talk about it?”

There was no fear in your voice as you recounted the altered memories of your torture, he already knew who you were, where you were from… what you did. All things considered; he took everything pretty well, barely holding it against you. To him, you were just a kid who was sucked into this life, making the best with what you had.

Finishing your poor recount of the nightmare, you turned to face him. “I have to go back soon. I’ve been pushing it by staying for an extra month. We need to make a plan for you to leave. You need to start a new life.”

He knew this conversation was coming ever since he managed to persuade you to help them out for a while. After all, he seemed to look straight past the wall you put up to know that you wanted Ozai’s reign to end. Despite respecting your boundaries, when you took off your mask in front everyone on board, the scar on your neck that travelled beneath your long sleeve shirt as it encompassed your hand, was enough to know that you suffered just like everyone else.

“Y/n, you know I can’t do that. My children, Sokka and Katara, they’re travelling with the Avatar right now, and I haven’t seen them since they were young. I can’t just leave and have you fake my death like that, Bato told me how much hope that knowing I’m alive brings to them! If I go and word gets out that you ‘assassinated’ me… it will crush them. Their close relationship with the worlds only hope is too much of a risk. I need them to be strong. The world needs them to be strong. I’m sorry y/n, but I can’t.”

You stared at him processing his words. Ultimately you knew he was right, but you couldn’t go back after such a long time just to say you failed. The Fire Lord would destroy you. “I understand where you are coming from. I do, but you can’t seriously expect me to go back with nothing! What do you expect me to do?! Oh, sorry Fire Brain I couldn’t kill him because something suddenly possessed me to feel bad about how his children might feel! Don’t worry, though, I didn’t care every other time I knew about other targets’ children! Unless you have some genius plan, I’m sorry, but Sokka and Katara are just going to have to suck it up. Let’s be realistic, yes, this MAY damage them and their duty to support the Avatar, but at least you can go back to them when this war is over!”

He ran his hand over his face, clearly trying to stay calm and collected. “I know, y/n. That’s why I’ve been up all night making a plan, but you’re not going to like it.”

You crossed your arms, scoffing at him. “The fact you’re suggesting something other than what I have ALREADY planned makes me not like it… but let’s hear it.”

He attempted to start with the parts of the plan he knew you’d agree on, which didn’t last long. “Well, we can incorporate some of your plans into it, that being we fake my death taking by tribal necklace back to the Fire Nation splattered in the animal’s blood. Yet everything else? We’re scrapping it.”

Biting on your tongue, you fought the urge to scream at how stupid this was sounding.

Relieved you didn’t bite back, he continued. “I’ll stay with the crew and then-“

That was enough for you to lose control. “Okay, I’m sorry did you just say you want to stay with the crew?! I am supposed to be taking out the LEADER OF THIS FLEET! If you stay with them and continue to attack vulnerable units, they will know, and they’ll have my head!”

“I know y/n! Which is why, when you’re gone, Batu will temporarily take over as captain until further notice. I, on the other hand, will only help plan the attacks stay in the background until it’s safe. Now, as for my kids, we’ll send them a letter letting them know I’m safe and hopefully a location so I can reunite with them.”

“But what if-“

“The letter gets intercepted? It’s just going to have to be a small risk.”

Taking a deep breath, he tried to bring the conversation to a less hostile level. “More often than not, there is no perfect plan. You should know that, by faking all of your assassinations since working for the Fire Lord. Which might I add, is the biggest risk you could possibly take. It will all work out in the end; trust me. But, this is your playing field, if you truly think me disappearing is the only way, then we can go ahead with the original plan.”

Sucking in a breath, you stared at Hakoda as if he grew two heads.

Did he just give me an option?

“W-what do you mean what I think?! You literally just said that you CAN’T leave your children! You gave me an alternative plan, and now you’re saying that if I disagree you’ll do as I say? That doesn’t make any sense.”

He let out a laugh, amused by your concerns. “Y/n, you have been trained in this area and executing the fake assassinations all on your own for over two years. No one knows the ins and outs of how the Fire Nation plans things like you do. If you think my plan is severely flawed and both of us are bound to get caught, I will trust your judgement in which is the best to conduct. Yes, I said that we should be thinking of my kids and the Avatar, his destiny is bigger than any of this, but everyone should be allowed to choose what they want to do, I am just allowing you to expand your options.”

With a final breath, he truly looked at you with sincerity, “I trust you y/n.”

It all seemed too much. All your life it felt like there was only one obvious pathway; do what it takes to survive. Everything he said was right, and it dawned on you that for once the decision you were about to make had two genuinely good choices. Hakoda gifted you with that privilege. Either way, you would save his life and yours. Yet you knew that the new pathway presented to you would lead you something bigger, just like he said. You couldn’t take one of the few good things away from his kids.

Overcome with emotion, you hugged him. “Thank you. We’ll do it. You need to stay.”

He hugged you back as you began to cry.

***

After spending the remainder of the night stuffing your face in the kitchens, you didn’t go back to sleep and started to train with whoever was willing until it was time to hear of your next target. By no means were you looking forward to it, but you were ready to distance yourself from the last mission as it regularly filled your mind.

I wonder if he actually put Bato in charge and stood down? Stop thinking about it y/n. It doesn’t matter anymore; you’ll never have to see him again.

As the sun started to disappear into the Fire Nations skyline, you headed for the throne room knowing you shouldn’t keep Ozai waiting.

I can’t wait to see the show he has prepared for me. I wonder how dark he tried to make the lighting this time. Ooo! Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll get 20-foot flames! Then I won’t have to see his ugly beard.

Entering the room and bowing before him, you fought back a snicker as it truly felt like the room seemed darker than usual.

“Y/n, you have come a long way from being a traitor and prisoner to the Nation to one of the most valuable assets. Your next task will be the ultimate test of your loyalty to me. I have trusted and sent my daughter Azula on a mission to bring back my traitor of a brother, and my failure of a son.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Azula was no stranger to riling you up whenever you crossed paths over her brother, and you were well aware of the encounters he had with the Avatar. But not once were you brought into the dysfunctions of their family. Now all of a sudden you were formally addressed by Ozai who was mentioning these events to you? It made you hyper-aware of the scars that stretched along your left side. The only personal connection you had with Zuko.

“While she undoubtedly has my complete trust, and I do not doubt her abilities, she lacks experience. Azula does not have the knowledge of the world, and fighting styles from the other nations like you do. For that, I am entrusting you to take care of the collateral damage. If things are to go wrong, if she is faced with a circumstance hindering her ability to do her task, it is your job to finish it. Even if that means harm must come to her, the mission is the utmost priority. Should you fail, do not underestimate the consequences you’ll face if you ever step back into the Nation.”

In your best attempt to keep your composure, you replied in a cool but firm tone. “Of course, my Fire Lord.”

“Good. You leave at dawn and do not return until my daughter succeeds.”

Bowing in acknowledgement, you began to leave. But you quickly halt your movements as you hear his voice again.

“One last thing y/n. Azula is not to know that you are tracking her at any stage during her mission. You are to distance yourself, only intervening when there is no other option.”

You bow for the last time. “You have my word.”

Making your way to prepare supplies for your journey, you fight the urge to curse out the entire royal family throughout the halls.

Babysitting duty. I was tortured for eight fucking months. Trained to boredom by Zemin’s brother, Piandao, for one month, and some knock-off fire bending master for a week because he didn’t know how to control me, and went gallivanting across the nations to fake assassinations. Not only that but also assist them in making new lives for themselves, FOR BABYSITTING DUTY! ALL BECAUSE HIS SPOILED, SOCIOPATHIC DAUGHTER WITH AN SUPERIORITY COMPLEX ISN’T EXPERIENCED ENOUGH?!

In your silent rage, you make it back to your room trying to reason with yourself that you shouldn’t kill Azula the second you both cross the Fire Nation boarders.

A/N: so…. Did I have y’all in the first half? LMAO AHAHHA.

Also I really thought I was going to have the gaang in this one #fool (oopsies) I really didn’t think the hakoda portion would consume so much of the chapter :/ BUT!! They’re definitely in the next one

Thanks for reading though! On the bright side I’m (finally) on my mid-semester break!!! Woohoo! I’m so excited to wrap up this semester wowies (uni has been kicking my butt),, but this does mean I’ll have more time to write so you guys might get a chapter earlier than normal 😊 Anyway, as normal feel free to message me or leave a comment!

TAGLIST:

@slythergirlimagines @mangoberry43 @eridanuswave @whiskeywinter89

@kaylove12 @simplyfandomish @khaleesi-of-assassins @callums-keith

@ilovespideyyy @calciumcow @blackhood5sos

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yellowmagicalgirl · 3 years

Text

Seklos and Gaylen, They Were Cagemates! Chapter 5: Cagemates

Plans are made by the boys' families. Kubritz offers a deal.

After four chapters, the boys are finally cagemates!

So, during the longer-than-planned hiatus, a movie was released. Don't worry, not only do I refuse to watch said movie, the exact events of RotT cannot happen in this universe because of things that happen in my outline for the AU.

Content/Spoiler warning: Grieving, loss of child, and suicidal ideation

AO3

FFN

The first thing Merlin had done when he felt his magic return to him was cast his senses outward to look for Hisirdoux.

Well, no, not exactly. The first thing he had done was groan in pain as his many injuries began to heal themselves. Morgana had already brought him to the brink of death twice, only healing him enough so that he would live, and she could continue to torture him. But, after groaning in pain, Merlin had cast out his senses to find his son.

There was no trace of Hisirdoux anywhere. Archie had been a clear signal, as was the Trollhunter. Nari, as distant as she was, had been a powerful beacon.

Hisirdoux’s magic was nowhere in this world. There was only one explanation for this: Merlin’s son was dead. And so, for the first time in many centuries (even whilst ignoring the ones between Killahead and now), Merlin Wylt allowed himself to cry. He did not allow himself to cry for long, of course. He couldn’t let his grief consume him. There was work to be done. An Eternal Night to reverse, a familiar to collect, a sword to repair, and a Heartstone to find.

Merlin had done two of those things, and he had tried to convince Archie to come with him. Merlin owed it to Hisirdoux to at least try to protect his familiar. But, as usual, Archie was too proud to listen to reason. He always thought he knew best on matters concerning Hisirdoux. And, in some ways, Archie had known better since he had known Hisirdoux for longer, but he was clearly in denial of the obvious.

That was a day ago. Now he was in the process of doing the fourth of those things. Merlin had to deal with a tribe of irritable trolls, all crammed into a too-small cave. The sun wouldn’t set for another hour.

Merlin felt a wave of energy pass through him.

It was like an agonized cry of distress coming from his son. It was short, and it was brief, but Merlin could feel Hisirdoux’s fear.

For the briefest of moments, Merlin almost hoped that maybe Hisirdoux was alive. Alive, scared, and in pain. Perhaps hoping that his master would come to save him, as selfish as Merlin knew the thought was.

But no. Hisirdoux was dead. This was merely an echo of his last dying moments, and Merlin must have been close enough to feel it. He wasn’t sure why Hisirdoux had died so far from Arcadia Oaks. Even if in life Hisirdoux hadn’t been the best at following instructions, that one was simple enough that he should’ve been able to follow it easily. Besides, there was no reason for Hisirdoux to abandon Archie like that. Could it have been Morgana? He had foreseen her trying to kill Hisirdoux, and clearly Merlin’s visions had been wrong since the formerly human Trollhunter was even younger than Hisirdoux should be now. But no. Morgana wouldn’t have killed Hisirdoux so far away. She would have dragged Hisirdoux to where Merlin lay gasping for breath and tortured and killed Hisirdoux in front of Merlin.

And to think she had once cared about the boy, or at least, seemed to have cared about him. Merlin wasn’t sure if he would ever know how early her betrayal started.

Merlin would never know how Hisirdoux had died, not unless he stumbled upon what was left of his son’s body. And call Merlin selfish, but he didn’t want to see it. Seeing his son’s corpse would only be useful if Merlin was planning on reanimating it. Bringing his son back was an act of dark magic, and Merlin would not partake in it no matter how desperately he wanted his son to be alive.

Merlin knew how the Trollhunter and his allies saw Merlin. A washed-up, bitter old man who had failed to do nearly anything useful. And Merlin had failed. He had failed his last two apprentices. He had failed to stop Morgana from going down her dark path, whether by guiding her better or just by annihilating the threat no matter what cost it would bring down, Merlin killing the king’s sister.

And he had failed Hisirdoux. For a millennium and a half, Merlin had not taken in another apprentice because he had always planned on returning to his apprentice. Tradition dictated that Merlin only take on a new apprentice should Hisirdoux die, become a master wizard, or should Merlin decide that Hisirdoux was too much of a nuisance to keep around and break the apprenticeship. No matter how frustrating Hisirdoux was sometimes, whether it was disturbing Merlin with his lute or trying to get out of doing his chores by wrestling with a broom, Merlin never would have abandoned Hisirdoux. He was far too attached to his son to do that, and so he had not taken an apprentice during the absence.

Perhaps it was time to change that. There was, after all, an orphan wizard nearby. One who had learned the hard way why a staff was only something a master wizard could safely wield. First off, though, he would need to see if she had any skill beside shadowmancy.

“Fair lady Claire,” Merlin said, approaching her. He kept his voice steady and even, betraying nothing of his grief. “Levitate that rock for me?”

She flinched.

“Sorry, Aja,” Stuart said. “He wasn’t anywhere in Arcadia. Or at least, I couldn’t find him.”

“It’s… it’s not your fault. Zadra and Steve couldn’t find Krel either,” Aja said. It had been a long day of searching for everyone gathered around the dining table of the Mothership. Stuart, Zadra, and Steve had scoured the town and woods for Krel, while Aja and the Blanks had been more successful in their search for the core scanner. Even the success felt weak, though. Between the crash and Krel’s sense of organization, it had taken her all day to find it. It hadn’t helped that three horvaths into searching, she had found herself wanting to walk up to Krel and lecture him on how just because he was smart it didn’t mean his organization patterns were the best ones to follow since only he could find things, but then she’d remembered he was missing and burst into tears. She probably wouldn’t give him the lecture when they found him, not until she had to look for something else he’d hidden away in a place that was only obvious to him.

“But we will find him,” Aja continued. “We have to.”

Aja didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if she didn’t find her brother. She placed the core scanner on the table. “Stuart, do you know how to make a second one of these? We only have one, but if we had more we could split up and look for Krel. Krel and Varvatos.”

“I can try,” Stuart said, “But I get the feeling that I won’t have all the parts. At best I can make a version with a very, very short range.”

“You still want to find the traitor?” Zadra asked.

“Our first priority is finding Krel, but if we find Varvatos in the process we’re not going to leave him to suffer,” Aja said. “We’ll bring him home to the Mothership. He sacrificed himself to save my parents, and I won’t let that sacrifice be in vain.”

Besides, depending on how badly hurt Varvatos was, he might be able to help search for Krel.

For all she knew, Varvatos had already found Krel and was trying to take care of him, especially if Krel had been knocked unconscious and Varvatos no idea where the Mothership was. That happened to Krel a lot, so surely it wasn’t too unreasonable to hope for.

Right?

Krel slowly began to wake up, and he realized he was laying on his side. That didn’t make sense. In his cage, it was impossible for him to lay on his side; he had to remain sitting up. He almost began to hope the past several delsons were all just some awful dream, but he was in so much pain from the cuts and the beating he had endured.

Krel opened his eyes.

He had been transferred to a larger cage, one where he could lay down. He tried to push himself onto all four of his hands and knees and gasped as moving brought more pain to him from every place the batons had struck him. He pushed himself up onto his lower pair of arms instead and saw Douxie laying barely a foot away from him in the same cage. White hair hung in front of his closed eyes. Krel frowned; Douxie’s hair had been darker before. Was that a normal thing that happened when he used his magic? Krel couldn’t be sure, but if it was then capturing Douxie and any other wizard must have been easy if there was unexplained glowing and hair lightening. Humans didn’t glow.

Douxie looked almost peaceful in his sleep, enough so that a small part of Krel was loathe to wake him up. That small part was very easy to ignore. Krel began to nudge at Douxie with one of his upper arms. Douxie groaned out something about arches.

“Please, please wake up.” Krel shoved a little more forcefully. Douxie had sounded hurt back when he had used his magic. Maybe that was normal. Maybe being a wizard was a constant sacrifice, which sounded extremely inefficient.

“What do you want?” Douxie hissed even though his throat hurt. Why were they even in the same cage, for that matter? Douxie wouldn’t have minded if it weren’t for the shoving.

“Oh, good, you’re okay.” Douxie opened an eye to find Krel looking concerned, except something white was blocking most of Douxie’s field of vision. Douxie opened his other eye and focused on the white strand of –

No.

Oh, fuzzbuckets, no!

As the memories of what he had done flooded back to him, Douxie sat up straight and away from Krel’s hands. His head was swimming and he felt sick as he pinched his bangs between his fingers as he glared at the stark contrast.

His hair was white.

Of course it was white. There was a reason why wizards who chose to dye their hair did not let it go bleached for very long, according to Zoe. Dark magic attacked life forces, and that attack could make dyed hair into something eternally white. Of course, this was only if the wizard using dark magic survived.

Douxie hadn’t planned on surviving. He’d planned for himself and Krel to escape, with Douxie’s escape to be death and Krel’s escape to outside of the base.

A woman in green walked towards the cage, hands on her hips. As Krel tensed, Douxie realized she was the same one who had tased Krel. She stopped in front of the cage and gazed at the boys smugly.

“I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced,” she said. “I’m Colonel Kubritz, and I’m going to give you two a deal.”

“Oh, really? And what do we have to give you to let us go?” Krel asked. He didn’t trust this colonel at all, but it was worth asking.

She chuckled. “Oh, no, both of you will be spending the rest of your lives in captivity. I just have a way for you two to extend those lives: if one of you resists experimentation or an order, the other will be punished.” She turned around and began to walk away before casting a glance over her shoulder. “Oh, and keep the conversation quiet, or there will be consequences.”

“Resist as much as you can,” Douxie said in a low voice as soon as she exited the room. Krel looked towards him and saw him staring at the ground. “Don’t pay what happens to me any mind.”

“What? Didn’t you hear her say that you’ll get punished if I resist?” Krel suspected that they’d get punished anyways, but any minimization was a good thing.

“Even if I somehow get out of here, I won’t have anywhere to go. I’ve used dark magic, and it’ll be obvious to everyone.”

“Dark magic?”

“It’s dangerous, and it feeds on life forces, and only evil people use it. Evil, or desperate, like I was desperate to save you. You’re welcome, by the way. But they won’t see it as desperation.”

“Thank you,” Krel said. You don’t seem evil to me, he didn’t say. An evil person wouldn’t have saved Krel, except what did that make Varvatos? Varvatos had saved Krel over and over again, despite the danger it had posed to Varvatos. Despite the way that Varvatos betrayed the Tarrons and had led to Krel and his family being hurt over and over again.

“My familiar, my master, and my,” Douxie cut himself off, shaking his head and biting his lip. “The coven I’ve been taken in by will all outcast me at best. They might just outright kill me for being dangerous. You, though, I’m sure you have something left to live for. If you resist, you might live longer than if you don’t.”

Krel stared at Douxie for a long moment, noting the defeat in his posture. “No.”

Douxie looked at Krel. There were tears forming in his eyes. Krel found the strange urge to hug his companion, but no. The two of them were getting unwanted touches from everyone else, so why should Krel do the same to Douxie? Granted, he had already shoved Douxie, but he would be better from now on.

“No, I’m not going to let you die here,” Krel continued. “Even if everyone else casts you out, you can stay with me. My sister will come for me, and when she does, I’m going to make sure that both of us escape with her.”

Author's note: Now that Claire has officially been made more important to this fic than she was in 3Below season 2 what no I'm definitely not still salty that freakin' Kanjigar got a cameo while Claire only got mentioned in the last five minutes she probably won't show up again (though she may get mentioned).

#krexie #toa merlin #claire nuñez #aja tarron #stuart of durio #lieutenant zadra #krel tarron #hisirdoux casperan #colonel kubritz #area 49b #trollhunters #3below #toawizards #tales of arcadia #and they were cagemates #seklos and gaylen they were cagemates!#my writing #Suicide #death mention

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sokkasssboomerang · 4 years

Text

Iroh’s Daughter HC

This is me at 3am writing things that are on my mind, its my first time doing any of this stuff so sorry if its super bad! feedback is always welcome! Thanks for reading

-You were the daughter of Iroh, cousin of Zuko and Azula, Niece to Ozai and Ursa (however you want to take it)

-Ofc being the daughter of Iroh meant you were so well loved, by Iroh and Lu Ten.There was nothing that could separate your loving family

-well that’s a lie, Ozai could. Ozai always despised you, its more because you were a non-bender the same age as Azula

-Although you seemed to have a clear disadvantage against Azula, you always matched her in fights. As in, you and Azula were perfectly balanced, no one could beat the other

-but no one really seemed to mind it. Did it still make Ozai and Azula upset? yes but they never did anything about it

-That was until you beat Azula in a match once. It was a shock to Ozai and Azula (the only ones there)

-unfortunately for you, your father and brother were off at Ba Sing Se in the war and were not there to witness your victory, but Ozai was there, and he was NOT happy

-he hired some hit-man to kill you that same day you beat Azula, you were only 10 but he didn’t care. It was a plan that only he and Azula knew about, no one else.

-you were lucky enough to catch the hit-man by surprise as they were talking about Ozai with the money they earned and make a getaway, but with your father and brother in Ba Sing Se, you knew you couldn’t go back to the palace.

-So you hid in the capital city, waiting for the day you could go back to the palace with your family but that day never came, as you heard about your brother’s death, you were heartbroken. you had still stuck around but decided to escape when you heard that Ozai became firelord.

-You ran off to a small village in the earth Kingdom, Chin Village. Thats where you became friends with the Avatar and the two water tribe siblings. You helped the Gaang restore Kyoshi’s image and helped them fight the fire nation soldiers.

-After that you all became fast friends, Sokka even claimed you as his newly adopted sibling, and the group brought you as you all traveled the world together. It really did not take much convincing from their part to get you to come because you always hated that town even though you were thankful for its protection over the past 4 years.

-When Toph joined the group, you and her hit it off immediately. You both loved to make tease and play pranks on the other members of the group. For the first time in a long you truly felt at peace, you had found your home.

-But things took a sharp turn when the gaang was chased by Azula, Ty-lee and Mai. It had been 4 years and although they have not changed much, the sleepiness in you didn’t give you the opportunity to register who you were facing.

-That was until you had split up the group, you and Aang in the deserted town while Katara and Sokka took Appa.

-When you first saw Azula, you did not believe your eyes. You never imagined seeing her again, rather yet, fight again. She was overjoyed with the sight of you, she had been waiting 4 years for this rematch.

-Although you hate to admit it, you would have been dead if it was a one-on-one with Azula, she took these past years and trained vigorously, whereas you can barely remember the last time you did a sit up. If it weren’t for Aang, you do not know how long you would have lasted against her.

-Seeing Zuko was a shock as well, he really just popped up out of no where.

-if you thought seeing Zuko was surprising then seeing your old man might have made you passed out from the shock, but it probably would have ended horrible given the circumstances.

-Iroh was shocked to see you as well, so shocked that he was still staring at you when Azula caught him off guard and shot lightning at his body.

-seeing your father fall to the ground was heart wrenching, you hadn’t even said a word to him yet and he appeared to be dying right in front of you. You cried and begged Katara to heal him but alas Zuko refused, he did not even let you get close to your dad.

-Zuko yelled about how you never cared to reach out to him for 4 years and refused to let you stay and “pretend to start caring now”. He even threw rapid fireballs at you when you inched closer to Iroh, forcing the group to pull you away and towards Appa.

-You were silent for weeks after the incident, not knowing if Iroh was dead or alive killed you, he was the last person left of your family. It broke your heart knowing you did not spend enough time with him.

-But alas you knew deep down that Iroh is strong and that he would make it, so after some weeks you finally sat down at the fireplace with the Gaang and told them the truth, not that you lied before, you just never really told them your past.

-You expected them to yell at you, banish you, hell even murder you. How could they not? The crown Princess of the fire nation sat next them, the Princess to a nation that hated them.

-Instead Sokka burst into tears, crying about how brave you were and how he couldn’t believe (arguably his favorite) little sibling had gone through so much and he cried into Katara’s shoulder as she tried to console him. When Katara looked at you, you knew that she understood you and was not upset at you for hiding your past.

-Aang looked so shocked yet he told you how proud he was of you and your bravery, while Toph yelled about how cool and badass you were and she went on to rant about how shes going to pummel Azula and Ozai to the ground if Aang does not do it first

-Right then and there at the fireplace, as you watched the scene unfold in front of you, you realized that you truly have found yourself a new home and family and you weren’t going to let go of this family anytime soon. You had already been separated by your first family and you were going to do anything to keep this one together.

-That’s why when Appa was kidnapped you were furious, almost as furious as Aang, ofc you can never share a bond like Appa and Aang, but that didn’t stop you from scarring the sand benders and having them running with their tail in between their legs. You marched all the way to Ba Sing Se and little did you know that would be the best choice you ever made in your life.

-While in Ba Sing Se, you never stopped looking for Appa and on one long stressful day, you had gotten into an argument with the cabbage man for putting the missing poster on his cart. After that long argument, you really craved some tea to calm your mind. So you headed to the Jasmine Dragon, the infamous tea shop that caught the eye of a lot of upper ring folk.

-Before you even entered the shop, your eyes landed on Zuko and Iroh. Your first instinct was to run, that was the fastest you ever ran in your life. You ran straight to the house that the Gaang lived and hid in your bedroom for the next day, trying to come up with a plan.

-In the end, you decided to go back to the Jasmine Dragon. You told yourself you were going to keep an eye on Zuko but really, you missed your dad and really really wanted some of his tea.

-So the next day, you left the house secretly in well designed disguise, you gave yourself fake bangs and covered half your face. When you were sure no one would recognize you, you crept out the front door and made your way to the tea shop.

-It did not take long for Zuko to make it to your table after you sat down, luckily for you, he did not suspect a thing. Though he did find it odd that you had your hair styled different than all the upper ring folk. Zuko did not suspect a thing the entire time you were there. And thats why you kept coming back to the tea shop.

-Everyday you came in and ordered Iroh’s tea which you did not realize you missed so much. As clueless as Zuko was to your identity, Iroh easily found out who you were.

-Although Iroh usually stayed in the back making the tea, this particular day was extremely busy in the shop. So Iroh decided to get to know some more customers and deliver tea himself.

-He casually came by the tables and talked his way through the shop. When Iroh came by your table, you made eye contact with him and he could recognize those eyes anywhere, even with bangs covering most it. His eyes bulged out of his sockets and he had a shocked face, but he quickly recovered himself. Iroh was grateful that he already set the tea on the table or else he knew it would have spilled everywhere.

-He did not mention your true identity and played along with your act, and you did not suspect that he knew a thing. So you kept coming back to the shop, becoming his number one customer. You had no clue Iroh was aware of your true identity, even when he asked you to stay after closing time and sit and have tea with him. You thought it was because you were such a loyal customer, secretly those days where you stayed behind were your favorite days.

-You and Iroh spent hours talking about what happened in the past, he found it as a wonderful way to learn about what you have been up to in the past 4 years and you were just grateful to finally be able to sit down and talk to him again that you did not want to overthink anything. You loved spending time with Iroh, and occasionally Zuko as he would sometimes pull a chair and sit down as well.

-There was one day where you sat with Iroh and you were talking about your time in Chin Village, and Iroh not being able to hold back asked you about how you ended up there. (Because all he knew was what Ozai told everyone, you and Azula were dueling, you had lost and out of shame you ran away.)

-You were shocked that he asked for the story, it never occurred to you that Iroh would not know of that traumatic experience. But you also did not really want to relive and explain it, because in your mind you would be giving away who you were (even though Iroh already knew but you didnt know that he knew), that’s why you were glad that Zuko was clumsy enough to drop a tea cup in the backroom.

-After that day, Iroh never mentioned the past, he decided to wait until you were ready to share. However Zuko was curious about you, a customer who comes in alone and shares tea with his uncle for long hours after closing. He wanted to know why you were so mysterious. So he asked

-Iroh was telling a story about pirates and the southern raiders, when Zuko walked up and interrupted Iroh and bluntly asked if you had family. Though you were surprised by the sudden question, you felt ready to answer.

-So you sat there and explained how you lost half your family, and had an uncle that tore you away from your family, and how you abandoned your father, who probably hates you now after seeing you with his enemy and by the end of it you were ugly crying.

-Iroh looked at you with sad eyes and said “I never hated you” and you just stared at him. like really, it took a whole minute before you spoke, then you nearly screamed “how long did you know?!” to which he explained that he could spot your eyes a mile away.

-and you finally got that fatherly hug you really missed from Iroh....and then another group hug with Zuko because he needed comfort after hearing about what his dad did

Lmao this took me an hour, it is probably hella sucky but i just really wanted to get this out of my system, anyways thanks for making it this far! I really considered adding some Gaang at the end when yo tell them you found Iroh but idk if i should've. Sorry if i made you lose some braincells, haha. Have a great day/night thanks for reading

#atla #iroh x reader #Avatar The Last Airbender #avatar headcanons #atla headcanons #azula #zuko #sokka #aang #katara #avatar headcanon #alta headcanon #avatar: the last airbender #jasmine dragon #ozai

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randomideasmybrainhas · 3 years

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What makes you beautiful (Suyin)

Inspiration from "What Makes You Beautiful" (1D)

"I don't know what to do that will make her fall for me, I've tried everything Lin!!"

"Have you tried impregnating her? Worked with the last one." Lin continued as she flipped through the newspaper at the dinner table. It was just the two of you, since everyone else was out training. You were apart of the Zafou guard to try and impress Suyin, the love of your life. Your attempts to get Suyin to notice you haven't gone unnoticed, just not what you wanted. Su would always just smile and give you a brief kiss on the cheek or little side hug and be taken away to attend to some sort of emergency. You were desperate at this point.

You got along with all her children, and ever since their father left, and it left their mother a hundred more times busy, Su barely took time to sleep, let alone try dating again, saying all she needed were her children. Everyone saw through it, but couldn't convince her otherwise.

"Not funny. I'm serious, you're her sister!! Shouldn't you have some ideas?!" You exasperated, arms outstretched and head on the table. Lin gave you a side eye and then rolled her eyes, folded her newspaper down and looked at you deadpanned.

"Su likes big gestures. Hell the last one helped her build this entire city. You have a lot to compare to. Those little flirty moments, won't cut it. Whatever you do, make it big, involve her family, and show her you're not leaving." Lin then got up and left you to your thoughts. You instantly started planning away.

"Opal!! Hey, I need your help, and I need you to get everyone but your mother involved, but figure out when she can get a day completely free." You ran up to Opal to explain the rest of your plan, and she was fully on board, along with the rest of her siblings. They all loved you, and already half viewed you as a parent almost, or good friend or some sort. They all loved the idea of you with the mother, and couldn't imagine anyone else with her. Even Kuvira appreciated you and all you did to help Su with the city and her family.

"MOM!! I need help!" Opal shouted, sounding completely frantic and worried. Su instantly dropped what she was doing and ran to find her daughter who was shouting at the dinning room. She ran up to her to make sure she was safe.

"Opal, honey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Su asked worried as she made sure Opal was okay. Su was very tired and stressed out about the train station being behind schedule for the grand opening, affecting the loan for the project, making her stay up even later than she normally does. With dark bags under her eyes, and her hair a little untamed, everyone could see that Su was stressed and overworked, but she refused help from anyone.

"Mom, come here, follow me! Hurry, you're going to miss it! Mom, stop walking so slow!! Lets go!" Opal started shouting while grabbing her mother's hand and pulling her behind her as she ran to the back yard where her twin brothers would train with their power disc game. Su, completely sleep deprived and over stressed wasn't sure what was happening, but Opal wouldn't let up or explain.

"Opal, where are we going, I need to get back, what's happening?" All her questions getting ignored, and she just continued to get pulled to the back. She started to worry that her boys got injured in a game, and needed medical attention ,but then why would Opal call for her and not a medic?

Instantly when Opal broke out into the back yard, there was giant speakers and a crowd gathered of her entire family and friends. Su looked so confused, as people started cheering and confetti blasted everywhere and puffs of fire on the side line went up when she got dragged to the middle of everyone and sat into a chair. Su who was still shocked to see her mother of all people amongst all of this, and wondering what was happening, just open and closed her mouth a few times until she spotted you.

You had gotten with Varick to get all the speakers and band and all the lights. You were dressed in the typical clothing that Su and her children wore, the green robes, with a metal top and black pants and boots. Your hair was pulled back into a high ponytail with make up and bits of glitter on, you slammed on the guitar and started singing.

"You're insecure, don't know what for. You're turning heads when you walk through the door."

You sang atop the stage while looking at her, and giving her a quick wink. Su looked completely dumbfounded and confused, with a small smile on her face staring up at you. The avatar gang and her children were all jumping up and down and cheering.

"Baby, you light up my world like nobody else. The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed. But when you smile at the ground, it ain't hard to tell that you don't know, you don't know that you're beautiful!"

You continued to slam on the guitar and wink at Su again at the end of the chorus. You took off the guitar and tossed it to the other band member who could play it. You took the mic and hopped off the stage and ran up to 3 giant covered tarps, and pulled the first one down while you continued to sing.

As it fell, Su could see a giant rock statue of herself and her children all together all with smiles and hugging each other. Su felt her eyes tear up as she looked at it, and you ran to the next one and pulled it down to reveal another statue, but of just the two of you and Su. Hugging and smiling at one another, and looking into each other's eyes.

You watched as Su brought a hand to her mouth to cover a gasp and dart her eyes to Lin and her mother who stood next to each other looking half impressed and half bored. They just gave her a little head nod back to you as you ran to the last tarp and continued to sing.

"If only you saw what I can see, you would know why I want you so desperately."

You smile at her and pull down the tarp and it reveals a giant statue of you, her, and her children. All together smiling and hugging and the two of you looking at each other. Su looked to her children who all gave her thumbs up and were cheering, even Kuvira gave her a nod.

Everyone started to sing along "nana, na, na, na, na, na." as you made your way up to Su, and panting slightly and a giant grin plastered on your face, you took a knee before her and held her hand with your free hand, and continued to sing softly.

You pause, breathing heavily staring at Su, holding your breath a bit.

"Su, I've been in love with you since I moved to your city, and I couldn't imagine to continue living in it without you by my side every day and night. I know you were done dirty, and it left you with a lot on your plate, but I am asking, no begging you. To let me in, and help you take on that load together. I promise I'll never leave, or make rash decisions without your input, and I promise to help you raise your amazing, brilliant, hilarious, talented children until we grow old and happy together. All I want is to be there every step of the way with you." You breathed out hard staring intently into Su's eyes still on a need with her hand in yours. This was it. She'd either take you and you'd be happily ever after, or she'd reject you and you'd become a heartbroken woman and leave to the fire nation. I mean, at least its warm there, the North and South water tribes were cold and you weren't exactly a monk...

"I-i, I don't know what to say." Su says a little speechless while looking from you to her family and friends.

"Oh spirits, it's not going to get better than this, you say yes Suyin Beifong. She's promised to leave me alone if you say yes, and if I ever visit she'd let me kick her ass in bending." Toph screamed throwing her hands in the air.

"Please say yes. She's been bugging me for weeks about how to ask you out." Lin says flatly, while raising her eyebrow. Su looks back to you and just stares.

"Mom. We all love her. Just say yes, we know you like her too." Opal says softly giving her mother a little nod of approval. You continued to be on a perched knee while looking at Su intently.

"What do you say Suyin Beifong? Will you let me take you out on a date?"

"I, there's so much to do. The train station-"

"-has been taken care of. The bank has a 2 week extension penalty free, and the men are working round the clock without extra pay because their company guaranteed it would be done by today or else you get your money back, and the guards are helping with the production line to go over more smoothly. You haven't slept a proper day in months. I have everything taken care of, and a perfect spa day planned for you, followed with a bottle of the best wine I could find." You continue as you search her eyes.

"H-how did you do all of this?" Su asked eyes wide at the station being finished today.

"When I want something, I make sure it gets done." You say with a slight smirk and wink. Su flushes deep red and shakes her head. She pulls your hand up and hugs you tightly, you instantly returning.

You pull back and look at her, "so does this mean yes?"

"Yes." Su says while bringing you in for a kiss and wrapping her arms around your neck and you brought her even closer, deepening the kiss and smiling into it, while everyone else shouted and the music started up again.

You finished singing and lifted Su up and spinning her around as she laughed and kissed you again, sweetly and just shook her head and smiled at you, resting her forehead against yours.

"You really are beautiful Suyin, and spirits am I in love with you."

#Suyin x reader #suyin x oc #lok #alta #fanfic #onedirection #fluff

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theladyskull · 3 years

Text

Horizon original character

Faceclaim: unknown model

Name: Delya Griffin

Age: 24

Hair: light blonde, shoulder length

Eyes: blue

Height: 165 cm/5'4

Build: toned muscular

Family: Parents and a little sister named Elsa (deceased)

Alies: Aloy, Erend, King Avad. Neutral with all the other tribes.

Tribe: lived in the old world, slept for over 900 years, slightly part of the carja tribe.

Nickname: Due to her driven nature, she can come across as hot-tempered dealing with people who think she's just a small useless girl. Many of the Carja and Oseram men call her Spitfire and want to break her fiery soul.

History: Delya is a multifaceted woman, from having overtly physical hobbies like: rock-climbing, martial arts and interpretive dance to being an expert in computer programming, engineering and problem-solving. She is very goal oriented and is driven to get the job done. Hence why she got picked for the Horizon Zero Dawn project and didn't walk away from it. While she started in only the delta branch, she was quickly noticed by her peers and got transferred to the Alpha prime facility. There Elisabet Sobeck took her under her wing in secret for a special project. The Omega clearance was given to her, making a program undetected within Gaia that could give one person a cryo sleep pod far, far beneath the surface in case Gaia encountered programming issues.

Just before the failure of the sealed doors, Elisabet send Delya to the sleeping pod chamber through a hyper speed pod track deep underneath the ground, leading to the sleeping pod chamber. There under the guidance of Gaia's inner function named HYPNOS, entered the cryo sleep pod unaware of the events in the Gaia prime facility.

Plot points:

Wakes up after the events of Aloy purging HADES

HYPNOS signal leads Aloy and Erend to the sleeping pod chamber

The waking up procedure has some complications and she is brought to King Avads Castle for recovery under a lie.

Learns the truth about the Gaia prime facility, the other alphas, Gaia, hades and the machines.

Goes on a few adventures with Aloy while trying to adapt to this new world.

Goes on more adventures with Erend and grows closer to him.

Falls in love with him, but Erend being still infatuated with Aloy and him being oblivious, makes for awkward situations.

Erend finally notices her and has to fight with Aloy and other guards a group of mercenaries that are after Delya who doesn't know this.

While Delya is waiting for a kind of date with Erend but doesn't show up. (She waits all night till morning cause the other guards won't let her leave). In the morning she sneaks away, traveling to the place where they were working and gets ambushed.

Aloy, Erend and the other guards fight the mercenaries but can't prevent one from grabbing Delya and sliding a knife across her throat. They kill him immediately, but are to shocked to check if Delya is alive.

They leave the cave, Delya still alive, leaving through another exit and hearing that Erend doesn't care if she is alive or dead, unaware that he doesn't want the other guards to know, he's heart broken.

She travels back to Hypnos, heals herself and leaves for a journey beyond Carja territory.

During her journey, she loses her left arm and foot, gets rescued by a group that makes workable prosthetic's and teaches them a lot about the old world.

After 2 years she returns to Carja territory, saves Erend and a group of merchants of a crazed Thunderjaw by luck.

She continues her work, while Erend and her have this awkward tension that neither of them will acknowledge and rectify.

Delya's friends come to help her, including their leader who is a hulking dude who has his sets on Delya making his.

Delya rejects him, causing him to lash out and wound Delya in the process. Erend jumps in to her rescue but gets the full force of his attacks, causing him nearly to die, until Delya swings Erend's hammer against his face and he dies.

Delya brings Erend with much effort to Hypnos who heals him during the span of 3 days. After he is healed, he leaves without saying a word and doesn't visit or say anything to Delya.

After a ruse of hypnos, he returns thinking Delya want to kill herself and wants to stop her. He confesses he loves her, she confesses too and they make up.

Few months later Gaia is restored, Apollo is returned and all is well.

Possible plot points after this

A clan leader of the Oseram claims Delya as his wife, as she inadvertently promised herself to him while she traveled through the claim years ago.

Erend and Delya have been together for 2 years.

Both of them fight his claim but are unaware of each other desire to marry each other.

A hand to hand combat is proposed and even Delya is opposed to such a outdated concept, nothing can be stopped.

When Erend loses and Delya has to stop the fight in order to stop Erend from being killed, she accepts his claim.

When the topic of children comes up and she realizes she can't produce offspring, she tries to tell Erend before she can publicly tell everyone else, but fails after every turn.

At the wedding, she has to tell everyone that she is barren and is unable to have children. The clan leader refuses her as his wife, while Erend asks her to marry her.

They marry and Erend is convinced that Delya being unable to have children was a lie. After 2 months of being happy again, she reveals it wasn't a lie, crushing his heart.

Erend accepts a quest of King Avad that has him leave Carja territory for a long time without Delya knowing.

Before Erend leaves it takes a few weeks and within those weeks, Delya gets a big surprise when Gaia tells her she is pregnant. Delya tries multiple times to tell Erend this news but he is still mad at her, so cuts her off every chance she gets.

When Erend leaves and she finds out that she won't see him for a long time, she travels after him and catches their convoy just in time.

Even though he's ecstatic about the news, he still leaves with the convoy, promising he would be back before she gives birth.

This doesn't come to pass and after 1,5 years of Erend not being home, she fears the worst. Sadly the clan leader hears about her children (twins, a girl and a boy) and Erend not being there, he kidnaps the three of them and takes them to his clan.

Delya is poorly mistreated but does everything she can to give her kids everything they need which results in her getting malnourished and having to deal with beatings whenever her kids cry.

Eventually Erend returns months after Delya's disappearance and is horrified that no one knows where she is. With the help of Aloy who herself had just returned from a year old trip, it takes them back into the Claim and finding her with her children.

Just a glimpse of Erend and Aloy, she finds new strength within her and kills the clan leader with a knife straight to the heart when he tries to lay with her.

When Erend and Aloy barge into the clan leaders House, they are surprised to see her having killed the clan leader. Erend and Delya reunite, where Delya passes out in Erend's arms, totally exhausted.

Erend and Aloy bringing Delya and the kids back to Carja territory, to King Avad's castle in fear of retaliation of the clan.

The retaliation doesn't happen, instead an older clansman comes and thanks them, expressing regret of not helping Delya with her struggles.

Delya gets nursed back to health and reveals that their kids are named: Erso and Elsa, in memory of Erend's sister and her own.

#Horizon zero dawn #hzd #horizon forbidden west #hfw #erend #erend vanguardsman #aloy #carja #nora #elisabet sobeck #gaia #alpha prime #alpha prime facility #oc #myoc #original character #delya griffin #delyaxerend #mychar

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awkwardpenguinproductions · 3 years

Text

Debrief

Part 7 of the Dragon of the Yuyan

Read on AO3 | Series Masterpost

…the thunder of crashing boulders…

…Hwan’s green eyes, wide with terror, framed by a Fire Nation Infantry helmet…

…the heat of the fires, bathing his face with the stench of burning hair and flesh…

…Father’s voice, sneering “suffering will be your teacher”…

The shriek of terror and remembered pain is strangled in his throat as Zuko snaps awake, drenched in cold sweat and panting like he’s been tree-running for an entire day. The Yuyan dorm is dark and quiet, everyone is still asleep, and Zuko simply lies in his bunk and breathes.

It’s been a week since Chihese and Haili Squads returned from Huzhen, two weeks since the battle (slaughter) itself, and Zuko has had nightmares every night. Every time he closes his eyes to sleep, he sees the captive earthbenders dressed in Fire Nation uniforms as they’re buried by their own countrymen, feels the fire thrown by the Third Infantry Corps as they overwhelm the tiny Earth Kingdom company… feels his face burn as Ozai caresses him with flames.

He wants to climb into Kai’s bunk, like he has every time he had a nightmare or a major panic attack in the last almost two years. But he’s turning sixteen in two months, he’s no longer a child, and hasn’t been since he was discarded in the Earth Kingdom wilderness like an unruly and unwanted house pet. He can’t go running to his best friend every time he has a bad dream anymore. They barely fit on the same bunk anymore, anyway—Kai has always been tall and lanky, but at the age of twenty has topped out at six feet and gained the shoulders to match. Zuko himself has shot up to nearly 5’6” and gotten his shoulders early, much to Kai’s chagrin. If Zuko tries to sneak into Kai’s bunk, one of them is going to end up on the floor.

No, he's not a kid anymore. He can deal.

He slips out of his bunk and silently works his way through the Stronghold to the komodo-rhino stables. The stables are quiet but for the sounds of the rhinos shifting and breathing in their sleep, and Zuko silently scales the building to perch on the roof, facing the east.He's exhausted, but he never goes back to sleep after one of these nightmares. If he's lucky, he'll only have a couple of hours before he'd wake up naturally from the sunrise, but tonight's not a lucky night––there's several hours between now and dawn. He sighs, and settles himself to meditate, feeling his inner flame race through his chi paths and chase away the chill of the mountain night.

His thoughts refuse to settle, though. They race around his skull like trapped rats:

How could Hanzou do something so horrible?

It was an excellent strategy.

It was cruel!

They were going to be executed or imprisoned anyway.

It was dishonorable!

There is no honor in war.

Then maybe the war should end.

Zuko opens his eyes with a gasp. End the war? The war was meant to bring the Fire Nation’s light to the world, to demonstrate their superiority to the other Nations.

How in the depths of Koh’s lair does murdering an entire squad of captured prisoners in cold blood make the Fire Nation in any way superior?

But that’s treason, to think like that. Zuko has given up on attempting to feel anything other than fear and contempt for Ozai, has given up believing in the power of his royal blood after being so very thoroughly disowned by his father and Fire Lord, but he is still a citizen of the Fire Nation, a loyal one.

But… how can he claim loyalty to a nation that commits crimes against other humans in the name of spreading greatness? He has no doubt that Ozai will reward Lieutenant General Hanzou handsomely for his actions at Huzhen—the Fire Lord has demonstrated repeatedly that he cares little for his own people, let alone helpless enemy prisoners of war, and will commend Hanzou for his creativity in solving two problems in such a simple action. This will encourage (has encouraged, Zuko can never forget his failure to prevent the death of the 41st) other generals to try equally ruthless tactics to earn the Fire Lord’s favor for themselves, perpetuating his bloodlust all over the world. Ozai has turned Sozin’s admittedly megalomaniacal dream of spreading Fire Nation greatness into a nightmare of fire and death for the other nations, and has turned the Fire Nation into exactly the kind of savages his people are taught to believe the other nations are.

This war has to end, and it can’t end with a Fire Nation victory. If that makes him a traitor to the Fire Nation, then so be it, but he would rather save his nation’s soul than perpetuate its cruelties. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it, but there’s got to be some way to end the fighting, end the war, without the complete destruction of one side or the other.

Uncle Iroh had come back from the Siege of Ba Sing Se with an urn containing the ashes of Cousin Lu Ten’s body and a quiet but powerful belief in the importance of balance. In oneself, in one’s life, and in the world itself. Zuko had thought the old man had gone a little nuts from the trauma of losing Lu Ten, but now… now he can kind of see what his uncle was talking about. It makes Zuko wonder if Uncle, too, saw how the Fire Nation was destroying itself as its leaders destroyed the world.

He can’t let it continue.

Terrified green eyes wide in a pallid face framed by a Fire Nation Infantry helmet…

A shoe scuffs almost silently on the roof, and Commander Toshiaki steps out of the darkness and settles himself a polite distance from Zuko.

Zuko’s nerves buzz and he has to consciously keep himself from tensing up. Damn his luck. The moment he makes the conscious decision to commit treason against the Fire Nation, and who shows up but his Agni-damned commanding officer.

The Commander softly snaps his fingers, and Zuko automatically gives him his attention.

It’s not uncommon for soldiers to have trouble sleeping after their first taste of combat, he signs, slow and easy, his expression serene.

Zuko grits his teeth. That wasn’t combat, Commander, he replies, signs sharp. That was a slaughter.

He fully expects to be reprimanded, but the Commander merely bows his head in concession.

I agree.

Zuko watches in mild shock as the Commander continues.

What happened at Huzhen was a tragedy and should never have happened, he signs. What happened to the 41st Division was a tragedy and should never have happened. The Siege of Ba Sing Se, the predations of the Southern Raiders, the attack on the Northern Water Tribe, the destruction of Taka… the genocide of the Air Nomads. All tragedies, none of which should have ever happened.

Zuko watches as his superior hesitates, just for a split second, completely invisible to a civilian's eye but as obvious and shocking as lightning.

Your farce of an Agni Kai was a tragedy, and should never have happened, Commander Toshiaki finishes, looking Zuko in the eye.

For moments that feel like years, neither of them move. Zuko barely dares to breathe. But when several minutes pass and the Commander makes no move to attempt to restrain him for arrest and return to Caldera, Zuko tentatively raises his hands.

How long have you known?

The Commander smiles wryly. I'd had no idea until Dr. Atsuko told me about two weeks after your arrival. Apparently her uncle was present.

Zuko does not want to talk about this, but his hands move without his permission. Him and the entire fucking Caldera, he snaps out, feeling the flash of heat over his eye that always accompanied even a passing thought of the spirits-damned mockery of a duel that was meant to end his life.

The Commander is still. Waiting, endlessly patient, like the hunter he's been training Zuko to be for almost two years.

Why didn't you turn me in? Zuko asks, morbidly curious. He hadn't hidden his identity, he'd just known that after six months of living by himself in the middle of nowhere, no one would believe him if he tried to insist that he was the missing Fire Prince. "Zuko" wasn't a hugely popular name, but it wasn't rare.

For a long time, the Commander doesn't answer. He just sits beside Zuko, not too close, and leans back on his hands and stares up at the stars. Zuko wants to get impatient, to snap his hands around the signs and demand answers, but he grips his knees until his knuckles and fingertips turn white and waits.

Finally, the Commander sits up, bringing his hands up to sign.

I have been a loyal soldier of the Fire Nation for seventeen years, he signs, not seeming to actually look at Zuko. I have done many things in the service of my country, but they have always been in line with my own morals. But that… that was a step too far. You are a child. You were a child then, and you are a child now. There is no action that you could take or had taken that should have been met with violence of any kind, much less on that scale. You should have been sent to bed without dessert, or made to write lines or do conditioning drills, not–

–Getting my face burned off? Zuko finishes, tilting his head and smirking lightly.

The Commander scowls at him, then a small smirk of his own breaks through and he chuckles silently.

I don’t know how to explain it any better, but after Atsuko left, I thought about you, and about how kind you are, and how much better things might be if you were Fire Lord, and suddenly I was doing everything in my power to keep you alive to become Fire Lord.

So I’m a bargaining chip. Zuko keeps his expressions and body tightly under control, burying his hurt.

NO.

He jumps at the force of the sign, at the way the Commander seems to double in size as he leaned forward with his shoulders thrown back aggressively, his hairless eyebrows furrowed low over his dark eyes, mouth turned firmly down. He may as well have been shouting.The Commander relaxes a bit as he continues to sign, but he still leans toward Zuko just a little bit in his eagerness. You are not a bargaining chip, Zuko. You are not some prize to control. You are the closest thing to a son that I am ever going to have, and I am so incredibly proud of the man you are becoming before my very eyes. I didn’t report you because what the Fire Lord did to you is wrong, it was cruel and despicable and the fact that no one else seems to have had any problem with it just goes to show how far our great Nation has fallen. You are a child, and I wanted to protect you and give you the time you needed to heal and grow and decide what it is you want to do with your life. If you decide to enlist officially in the Archers, I will be happy to help you falsify the documents you need and approve them. If you decide to move to Ba Sing Se as a refugee and live in peace, then I will do everything in my power to ensure your safe passage. He takes a deep breath, and folds himself into full kneel atop the narrow peak beam of the stable roof. It’s not a full kowtow, because he needs his hands to speak, but it shocks Zuko just the same.

If my Prince decides to take up arms against the tyrant Fire Lord, then it will be my honor and my privilege to dedicate my life and my bow to his service.

It takes Zuko a moment to realize what’s happening, but when he does he nearly falls off the roof. His spirits-damned commanding officeris swearing fealty to him, Zuko, the prince who was burned and thrown out of his homeland to die. This man saved him, risked court martial and prison and even death to keep Zuko from being discovered and executed by his father, and here he is, dedicating his life to some hypothetical and certainly suicidal bid Zuko might make for the throne. He can’t breathe.

Please… please get up… he signs shakily, and pulls on the Commander’s arm. The older man sits, but keeps his head respectfully bowed. Zuko gathers up the tattered remains of his composure. I don’t understand what you want from me. You would really just… let me go? After two years? If I said I didn’t want to continue being part of the Archers, or didn’t want to try to overthrow my father? You would just… let me go? He’s never felt like the Archers were keeping him hostage, but learning that his commanding officer knew who he was this entire time and had kept the knowledge secret is messing with his perceptions.

Commander Toshiaki looks heartbroken as he signs, Of course I would. All I want is for you to be safe and happy. If you decide to find that safety and happiness behind the walls of Ba Sing Se, then I will forge the paperwork required and escort you there myself. I would miss you terribly, and Kai may never forgive me, but I would rest well knowing that you are happy and safe.

Zuko is sorely tempted, the memories of Huzhen sending icicles up and down his spine. But his people would still be killing and dying and poisoning themselves and the rest of the world with their hate and unchecked aggression while he hid safe and contented behind Ba Sing Se’s massive walls, and he knows like he knows his own name that if he chooses that road, he would go crazy from the inaction.

He’s also tempted to hold to his and the Commander’s original deal, to enlist in the Yuyan Archers as soon as he was of age, but that would severely limit the kind of action he could take to try to end the war. He’d still be perpetuating the Fire Nation’s crimes, and he knows that eventually the dissonance of his beliefs and his actions would drive him just as crazy as he would be if he was hiding in Ba Sing Se and doing nothing.

There’s only one thing for it, then.

This war has to end, Commander, he signs finally. I want to have a hand in ending it. Do you have any ideas on how to go about that?

The look on Commander Toshiaki’s face is one Zuko has never seen before, pride so fierce and joyful that it makes Zuko’s face and ears and the back of his neck burst into flame with the heat of his blush. Only Uncle Iroh (only Mom) has ever looked at him like that.

You honor me, my Prince, the older man replies, and bows with the Flame. Zuko returns it, feeling like a few of the missing pieces of his soul have finally clicked into place.

They stay up on the roof of the komodo-rhino stables until nearly dawn, hammering out plan after plan after plan for every contingency they can think of, and a few that Zuko hopes will never come to pass because if they do, then the entire world is screwed.

In the end, they decide that Plan A is for Zuko to continue on as he has been, and enlist in the Archers the moment he turns eighteen. With his extra four years of experience, he’ll shoot up the ranks, and hopefully make Captain and have his own Squad by age twenty, which will provide him with command experience. Once Azula turns eighteen and is crowned Heir Apparent, it’ll only be a matter of time before she decides to seize power for herself, and by then Zuko will be more than ready to challenge her for the Caldera Throne.

It means another four years at least of war, of his people suffering, and that chafes at Zuko like sand in between his toes, but as he steps up his training in firebending, in swordsmanship, and in archery and stealth arts, he contents himself with the knowledge that this is the most logical path to ending the war. He cannot face Ozai. Just the thought makes his entire body shake and his mind race like a mouse in a trap. Better to wait for Azula to make her move and avoid the Fire Lord completely than to risk freezing up and getting killed for the hesitation.

A few weeks after the rooftop… thing (revelation? discussion? conspiracy? conspiracy), Kai corners him in the farthest corner of the training yards, where Zuko likes to practice with his dao.

What the fuck is up with you? He signs, sitting on Zuko’s stomach after ambushing him into a mild wrestling match. Zuko’s slippery, but Kai has height and weight on his side, and their matches tend to end in draws more often than not, but this time Kai isn't playing. Zuko's arms are trapped against his sides by Kai's knees, and the older boy is pressing down with just enough weight to ensure that Zuko can't break free of the hold, and his expression is pouty and annoyed but his eyes are concerned. Zuko relaxes into the pin, and simply raises his eyebrow.

Kai rolls his eyes, and gets up. Zuko sits up and takes a few deep breaths, but otherwise doesn't move.

Well? Kai demands, signs sharp with impatience, standing on the balls of his feet as though ready to move at a second's notice. You've been so weird since we got back from Huzhen. Honestly, I expected the nightmares, I've had them too, but you've stopped going to the stables and the hawks and you barely talk to anyone! All you do is train, you barely even eat or sleep! What the actual fuck, Zuko?

Oops. Zuko winces, scratching the side of his head. He hadn't meant to get so wrapped up.

You're right, he signs. I'm sorry, I've had a lot on my mind recently

.Kai frowns, and settles himself on the ground directly in front of Zuko. Talk to me. Maybe I can help, or at least be a friendly ear.

Zuko barely has to think about it for a second. Kai is his best friend, his brother in everything but blood, and he trusts him even more than he trusts the Commander at times.

He explains everything. His identity as the (former) Crown Prince, the Agni Kai, his abandonment in the wilderness. How the massacre at Huzhen had made him realize what the war was doing to their country, to their people. How the Commander had known all of this time exactly who he was, and how the man is helping him in his conspiracy to commit treason by simply being alive and planning to take back his throne when his scheming sister makes her play for it.

Through it all, Kai's eyes never leave his body, taking in everything. There are several points where it looks like the older boy (older man, Kai is twenty now, and when on earth did they all grow up?) might interrupt, but he restrains himself admirably. His face is pure rage when he learns how Zuko got his scar, and again when Zuko describes the realization that he had been left for dead in the mountains, but he doesn't move. When Zuko is finished, his hands and brain exhausted, Kai sits for a few moments, eyes closed.

You know, I always thought it was weird that an obviously full-blooded Fire Nation kid just randomly showed up here, he finally muses. Especially one so obviously noble-blooded.

So you’re not mad? Zuko didn’t think he would be, Kai loves a good prank, but it’s always helpful to know where he stands so that there aren’t any surprises.

Kai chuckles silently, and digs a knuckle into the top of Zuko’s head. Dumbass, he signs, grinning crookedly, his eyes warm with affection. You were doing what you needed to do to survive. Nothing wrong with that. I was just worried about you— there’s all sorts of horror stories about bad reactions soldiers have to their first combat experience. I wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to do anything stupid.

Thanks, Kai, Zuko signs, grinning.

I got your back, Prince Danger Noodle, Kai replies, winking at him.

With Kai in the loop, Zuko’s archery training takes off, as the older Private teaches Zuko everything he knows about hitting exactly where he aims every single time, no matter the conditions. They drill relentlessly, in any spare moment that Zuko’s not practicing his firebending or his dao.

The summer fades, and Zuko celebrates his sixteenth birthday by breaking into Shinu’s office, stealing the three massive jugs of baijiu the Colonel keeps there, and getting impressively drunk with Kai, Jiyoti, Min-Seo, and some of the other younger soldiers stationed at the Stronghold. He doesn’t remember much past the first several swallows, but he does remember it being one of the single best birthdays he’s ever had. Then the hangover hits in the morning, and he spends PT wishing that someone would shoot him and end his misery. Captain Hiroki and Commander Toshiaki are entirely unsympathetic, and Master Ryoichi gleefully pummels him in sparring, taking advantage of his infirmity to teach Zuko how to fight while impaired. It's grueling, and surprisingly vicious for the usually fair-minded Master, with any number of assailants jumping in and out at any given moment, but Zuko manages a pretty solid win, despite his spinning head and churning gut. Afterward, as Zuko sits on the side and wishes for a dark hole to crawl into, the Master announces that Zuko is a Firebending Master. Zuko responds by throwing up at the Master's feet.

Fall passes, and Zuko makes a consistent habit of breaking into the Stronghold's communications hub and reading every report he can get his hands on, with specific attention paid to the Fire Nation Army's movements in the Earth Kingdom. He learns everything he can, memorizes codes, locations, and personnel, some tiny, paranoid part of his mind urging him that no knowledge is wasted, even if it would be rendered obsolete within the next week. Despite obsolescence, no report is ever thrown away–– the hub contains scrolls dating back to Pouhai's founding as a frontier garrison in the very early days of the war, only weeks younger than the Yu Dao colony. It's here that Zuko encounters a written account of the Avatar legend, copied for posterity on the fiftieth anniversary of Sozin's attack on the Air Temples and then shoved in the back of the shelf and forgotten. Zuko skims it, reads maintains balance between the Four Nations, and finds himself wondering for a moment what life might have been like had the Avatar cycle not been broken. Then he shakes his head, replaces the scroll, and goes back to reading reports from the Southern Raiders.

On a freezing winter morning, as Zuko and his squad sit down to breakfast and tease Kai for still being half asleep, a herald reads a proclamation from the Caldera.

"The Avatar has returned, and is wanted alive for treason against the Fire Nation."

The mess hall is silent. Zuko nearly chokes on his tea. Unbidden, his eyes fly to Commander Toshiaki, who has gone white to the lips, but otherwise is composed.

The Avatar has returned.

This, Zuko thinks, as he listens to the silence break to the shattering sounds of all of his plans, changes everything.

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#atla #atla fanfic #awkpenproductions presents #dragon of the yuyan #part 7 debrief

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fluorescentpipedream · 3 years

Photo

Updated a few of my characters’ pictures last night when I was having an ADHD moment while playing WoW.

So...

Daryl “Mason” Knox - This version of Daryl is part of our Zombie storyline (the premise of which I barely remember) and currently in the mountains above Colorado. He is a survivalist already, tanner, taxidermist and wicked good shot and when the virus began circulating, he packed up his pickup truck and headed as far into the mountains as he could. He had been in Tennessee for a little while but left there when the area started to fall as well, moving around a lot for a while before settling high in the mountains where it’s coldest, realizing the undead have a hard time moving through the snow and it seems to make their bodies more brittle. He stumbles upon Ryki and Kristy’s group (shortly after they get Mikael back from the roaming motorcycle gang (see Widower/Simon). Daryl was under the assumption that most of his family had died when the virus first took hold and started using his middle name, Mason, instead of his last name.

Daryl Knox - Daryl is the survivalist of the Knox men, the youngest but the one who has his fingers the most in the various family businesses and also the one who discovers that a good portion of the Knox family land that backs the Blue Ridge Mountain range actually belonged to the Cherokee tribe and gives it back to them, only asking if they can continue to use the land as the hunting area he currently has it set up as. Daryl and his brothers also took a portion of the money made from the Knox Lodge (a small series of cabins built closest to the Chattahoochee National Park people can rent and go fishing and hunting for deer, quail and even armadillos) and give it back to the slave families that their great great grandfather had working for them. Daryl is quieter than the rest of his brothers, sticking to living away from nearly everyone and only coming down from the mountains when he is dropping off supplies at the Knox Family General Store in Jasper, Georgia where the family is primarily from. The general store is very rustic looking, with the old fashioned candy jars behind the counter and a small restaurant in the back where the family sells their homemade pies. (They also sell locally made and sourced jellies and jams, as well as jerky and unique gifts. Think trading post for the interior) A skilled taxidermist, Daryl has a special he runs through the Lodge that if you shoot it, he’ll stuff it (for a fee of course).

Schyler Lewis - A former Scorpion and currently a Slayer in Los Angeles, Schyler is quiet but loving and loyal. He’s also one hell of a shot with pretty much anything, though he prefers knives over everything. He has a deep respect for RJ Jamison, as well as the former leader, BP and keeps a protective/big brother kind of watch on Queenie. He and Simon are pretty good friends, he often tries to keep an eye on the older man to keep him from going crazy.

Trevor Phillips (nothing changed, just both versions of him are going to use the same picture)

Simon Knox - Simon is the middle Knox brother, only a few years older than Daryl though he’s not particularly close to most of his family anymore. He and Jericho had once been vying for the same girl’s attention, but when he was sent to prison for a bar fight/blackout he missed the chance to be with her, even though he does very much still love her. When Simon was released from prison, Jericho gave him the chance to come home and get back on his feet again (the courts and mental health professionals released him on account of him having absolutely no memory of the bar fight other than some kid pushing him too hard and spitting on him. His anger flared up and he didn’t remember anything that had happened after that point. It wasn’t until an officer hit him on the back of the head did he come around again) and while he’s there, he and Maggie ended up in bed together after he told her what had happened. He had a ring and had been going out with a few friends the night before coming to see her. He is actually Ryder’s father, and Jericho does know. Following Ryder’s first outburst and slamming his head into the wall, tearing a stuffed animal and general unprovoked rage, Jericho had come to bed with a few scratches on his arms and gently kissed Maggie’s forehead, not coming right out and saying anything about the possibility but just telling her that whatever thing that’s weighing on her heart right now, it’s okay and he forgives her. (Ryder has similar violent outbursts like his father, though recognizing it as was what going on with Simon, Jericho instead got his son therapy to deal with the outbursts as well as getting him involved in boxing.)

Following Ryder’s birth (and Simon getting to hold his son), Simon leaves and joins the Outlaw motorcycle gang though moves around a lot after that, winding up “settling” with Haven for a while before finally establishing a place with the Scorpions. He made quick friends with Schyler, despite a several year age gap, and when the Scorpions were assimilated into the Slayers in LA, he stayed on with them. He is prone to blackouts and violent outbursts and unfortunately does not possess much in the way of empathy toward nearly anyone. He does very much like children, and wouldn’t mind finally getting to have a family of his own. He is pansexual and it doesn’t seem to matter to him who he’s with, as long as they’re over a certain age. He’s not overly thrilled with the relationship RJ has with Jamie but she’s safe and not in any danger so he doesn’t say much about it either way. He and Floki of the Vikings have rolled around a few times, but generally speaking he is still very much in love with Maggie. Part of the reason he stays away from his family is because of how Jericho has been treating his “dying” wife. (Jericho is having an affair with a younger nurse/friend of his daughter Lorelei, while his wife is presumed to be dying from stage 4 cancer. She does make a rather miraculous recovery though, leaving him and going out to the man who has always loved her)

Simon has some seriously reckless traits and has actually had to be sedated by members of his own gang because his anger will flare up and he goes berserk. He has NO control over his actions whenever he blacks out either. Following BP and his wife’s untimely death, Simon is taken by the Slayers along with several others and thrown into the Pit, basically an abandoned warehouse near the docks that has been hollowed out and made into a fight arena. Because of his anger issues there’s a few that believe he could have been pushed to a breaking point and lashed out, though BP never pushed his buttons and he has no desire to take the gang over. When Rollo and a handful of the Vikings reveal themselves as the masterminds (and hired by Marcone to do the deed), Simon is the one who takes an axe off of Floki’s hip, throwing it into the back of Rollo’s head before kneeling down in front of Queenie and telling her he’s always been loyal to BP and subsequently, to her.

Widower (Simon Knox) - This version of Simon is for our zombie alt world and currently in Tennessee with the Savior gang run by a Negan type. In this world, Simon was able to remarry Maggie and the two of them were living quiet happily, considering starting their family when her cancer makes a return and is incredible aggressive. As the virus starts to spread through Atlanta and they begin seeing how it eats away at the host’s body only to reanimate them, Maggie begs Simon to shoot her so she doesn’t have to suffer through her cancer and the possibility of getting the virus. At first he refuses to do it but after the hospitals shut down due to too many people contracting the virus, he takes her up to one his brother’s hunting cabins and shoots her, burying her in the backyard. He had attempted to shoot himself as well but the gun jammed and he ended up throwing it into the river instead. After Atlanta falls and the zombie virus appears to be spreading through the small towns, taking the Knox family out as far as he can tell. He and Daryl were traveling together for a little while but were separated and Simon lost track of his little brother. Assuming that his family is dead (since there’s no trace of any of them and the communications network was the first thing to go down) he gets on the back of his motorcycle and leaves. He first meets Morgan (Negan) and his group, Haven, when they stumble upon one another trying to refuel and get supplies. Simon is unhinged and no longer even trying to hide his homicidal side, since no one is there to hold him back any longer he’s completely off his rocker. He initially told Morgan and the rest to call him Widower, as he didn’t even want to link himself to the man he used to be. If the virus is ever contained, he isn’t sure there’s going to be much of a world left for him.

Widower, Morgan and I think there’s an NPC version of Schyler with them as well find 5 yr old Mikael after the little boy panicked and ran from his aunt and uncle’s convoy during one of the zombie attacks. Morgan grabbed the boy as he was crying by the back of his jacket and puts him onto his motorcycle leading Kristy and Ryki and their group to give chase to get him back. Morgan had a son once and may have done this in order to protect him, not initially seeing the small group of survivors on the road. Widower takes over kind of protecting the little boy when their group stops at an old warehouse they use as a base.

Morgan Caldwell - I haven’t actually decided if I’m going to make Morgan but he is Sam Caldwell’s older brother and Martin & Lynn’s uncle. He is the leader of the Haven motorcycle gang which moves around a lot and Simon was part of for a while. He is incredibly disappointed in how his little brother acts and very much wants to meet his estranged niece and nephew.

Morgan “Negan” Caldwell - The zombie-verse version of Morgan, I know little about the man other than Widower is his right hand man and fiercely loyal to him. He genuinely seems to be concerned for Mikael and after meeting Kristy and finding out she’s pregnant while going through the virus, he may offer their services to them, as protection (or he may try to keep Kristy with him and his group masking using the air of wanting to protect her until she gives birth) There’s a lot of ways this guy can go. He isn’t particularly trustworthy, and has said one thing only to do the direct opposite of that less than a few minutes later.

Kevin Reynolds - the oldest Reynolds brother and also the only one that’s biological to the Reynolds family. Kevin was 10 when Matt was adopted and 12 when Vartan came to live with them as well. The family typically fosters children, and seeks to give them a better life than the one they had. Kevin is currently in his later 40s, and lives in Chicago where he owns an old-fashioned record store (with actual records on the upstairs level) called Empire Records, or just The Empire by his teen/20-something staff. Kevin is gay and actually just lost his husband Jimmy to AIDS. Jimmy was the drummer for his brothers’ band Silex, and actually younger than Kevin was as well. He is currently having issues with depression following the loss of the only love in his life (up til now, obviously), though he actually has clinical depression as well. He and Matt absolutely cannot stand one another, mostly due to Matt’s homophobia, though Kevin has always been out so he’s not sure exactly where that stems from. He and Vartan are close, despite the 12 year age gap. Empire Records is a somewhat failing business, though is eventually brought under the wing of Revolver Records for its vintage, throwback to the late 80s/90s music scene and often becomes the site of the Revolver bands’ signings, which boosts their sales quite a bit too.

Ryder Knox is getting a new picture, I just need to figure out who he actually looks like, taking his dad into a bit more consideration right now. The Knox men also all have a very distinct smile, so gotta find someone that fits. I’m stuck between these two:

Ryder is 22 years old and lives in an apartment on his own which he pays for by an OnlyFans account. With close to 1000 subscribers, he makes money selling pictures of anything from his feet to being shirtless (sometimes in his underwear) on parts of the Knox farmland. Very gay but not very out about it.

@musesnotebook

#Jeffery Dean Morgan #Zombie storyline #picture updates #norman reedus #steven ogg

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