#not be chased around by dragons and having the actually weight of a country on your shoulders | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sword-of-summer · 3 years

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All of them answer every question fuck you

ahahaha no i respectfully deny your "fuck you" and i accept the ask and so-

i am 5'10", and i don't wish to be taller or shorter- i am the perfect height for hugs and messy hair, and yep, i like it here-

dream pet would be a mix of golden retriver and a husky called Holly and a chonky cat called Loki- yes ofcourse my future kids have names everyone should name their future pets-

ripped jeans/black pants with a Darth Vader tshirt or a Ethnic Fusion Kurta with black sneakers/artificial leather slip-ons, and if it's cold, a black jacket open obviously- and a black wristwatch i love my black wristwatch.

favourite video game was Clash of Clans and going even back, GTA Vice City and, the og- MARIIOOOO

three things/people are Oreos, Nutella and Pizza. The Holy Trinity-

"Beware me my fingers are smeared with chicken popcorn grease"

you didn't mention an opinion, @chunkybirb, so imma give my opinion on Vanilla ice cream and Nutella- ANYONE WHO HADN'T COMBINED THESE TWO COMBINE THESE TWO THEY ARE FUCKING AWESOME

im either phlegmatic or melancholic bruh idk maybe ik or maybe not

im v v v v ticklish

not an allergy, but an intense hatred for ketchup- i vomit if it gets too close to me fuck you ketchup

im heterosexual

any between tea and coffee but full milk coffee (ik, kill me), never had cocoa- but i love a chocolate or nutella milkshake

both. both is good. (cat and dog)

i would be an elf cause hell yeah, knowledge and wisdom

favourite youtuber is Samay Raina, a stand up comedian turned youtuber who is just awesome-

as i mentioned in 1., i am 5'10"

i would not change my name cause it's the coolest fucking name ever, i am Tanay, and Tanay in Hindi means Son, and my parents literally named their son Son, and hell yeah i like it

i forgot how much i weigh- last i checked it was 75 kilos, but ive gained weight since 2019 so yep, gotta walk in the mornings

yes i believe in metaphysicality cause one- it seems cool- second- me and @theclassyghost discussed a metaphysical life theory that i really really like and metaphysicality gives preservation of knowledge so i believe in spirits

SPACE. SPACE. SPACE.

im not that religious, no

pet peeves no well nah not really

nocturnal def nocturnal i sleep at 4.50 anyway hehehehe

fav constellation is Cassiopeia

fav star is Sirius tho

what the fuck are ball jointed dolls

i do have a fear of losing people that's just anxiety i guess

yep, global warming is real

never thought that much about reincarnation tbh but maybe, i do

fav movie is Spider Man : Into The SpiderVerse and Inception and The Dark Knight Rises and Revenge of The Sith and yes, for my indian gang, 3 Idiots and Gully Boy

yep i get scared v v v easily

i have had no pets but i plan to once i grow up

@chunkybirb 's blog is fucking cool awesome and *chef's kiss* a masterpiece

blue calms me. i love blue.

live in Norway cause pretty lights, snow, and less people than this overpopulated country i am in

born in Mumbai, India

v v v dark brown like it's almost black but no it's dark brown

introvert

horoscopes and zodiacs, i do read them, never believed that much tbh-

HUGS I LOVE HUGS

i really wanna visit my brother i haven't met him in a long time i really wanna play cricket w him just like old times

my sister- she's annoying but well i care for her

nah

tattoos idk bruh im okay idk may get one or may not get one

nope, smoking is ewwww *vomits*

ah my crush- she's cool [ if she exists

when the chalk doesn't write on the board but goes iiiiiieeee I HATE THAT

a sound i love is rain pitter pattering i just hhhhhh sends me into happiness

nope fatass here

favourite actors have to be eddie redmayne, oscar issac and pedro pascal- and margot robbie and winona ryder in the actresses section also yes, elliot page

bruh already answered in 30.

im okayish!! spotify and tumblr, cool combo-

my hair are okay being black for me

yesterday, monday, from 6.40 to 6.50

music

uhhh naah not that i know of

well in Rick Riordan's Magnus Chase books, the sword of Frey aka Sumarbrander TALKS and demands to be called Jack, so here i am

bakwaas, music and comfy

yep, i believe in evolution

unfollow on hate and when they dm me sending nsfw pics ugh why are people like that

follow, well, i like people and they seem cool, so i follow them

fav kind of person is the one who'll sit with me for hours not even talking and just vibing to music

fav animals are beavers, doggos and cats

three fav blogs are @chunkybirb, @theclassyghost, @little-boats-on-a-lake, @aredhel-of-gondolin, @sue-me-imbadass, @alleenkaas, @my-ackerman, @brrrrrrrrrrzone

fav emoticon has to be ☹ this me seeing my stupidity outrank others

fav meme has to be Butternut is a master of psychological manipulation

INTP

Libraaa let's go

no dog, i have

black darth vader tshirt, black pants, black sneakers and black wrist watch

i have no selfies my phone has no cameras i live in eternal darkness

what the fuck are platform shoes

i, uhhh, i remember weird things like what i drew in class in 3rd while i was supposed to be doing english

lazy ass here, no front flips possible

i like birds they fly

nope i don't Iike swimming i like blankets

wrapped up in blankets reading books sounds better than both

ketchup

hyperspace travel

nope none

reading writing eating sleeping

my friend

tumblr seems cool

i have around 60-70 idk

yes i can run but why

yes they do but what's the fun in that

nope I'd fall over

sapphire let's go

koala bear or panda

sunflower or the one on a lemon tree

ketchup store

one cup of coffee is enough, tysm

read minds that sounds cool cool yeaaahh

nope never wore it a black clothes guy here BatMan

winter winter all year long

i don't know and i don't wanna try

i don't know and i don't wanna know

everyone cause they are better than me

bookstores cause bookstores any bookstores

sneakers, black onez

apparently some gas bitches mixed up to form a planet

non vegetarian but i partake meat just twice or thrice in two weeks

i don't know they don't seem like liking

naaaaaaaah

bugs ew

spiders ew

about the fact that i come off as arrogant and overconfident while in reality it's just that my communication skills suck

i can draw averagely whenever im in a mood

this thing im answering but i like answering it

uhhhhhhh brain freeze- idk bruh questions are good they give knowledge

yep, while sleeping

ahh yes calming, they are

cloudy days cause fucking cool vibes

hehehe wouldn't you like to know, weatherboy

CumuloNimbus i really like it's name yknow nimBUS

dark blue, dark blue always or black

naaaah no freckles

fav thing is when they laugh and it's just happy and we're both laughing like shitheads but who cares we're rebelling against depressing life and we laugh

both. both is good [ fruits and vegetables

sleep but i have to answer 170 questions cause @chunkybirb

sky sky sky it's my blog's header duh uh sKy

sweet and sour candy. SWEET AND SOUR CANDY.

dim lights it makes me feel cool

ahhh so here we go- Mooncalfs, Thunderbirds, Phoenixes, Sphinxes, Dragons that seem to be Space Nebulae, and more and more and more

i really feel like a boomer sometimes

i love everything about this site/app it makes me feel happy cause i like the people and the posts

uhhhhh i think too much about everything cause i just do. i like thinking

"He's dead, guys. For the sake of The Force, please watch Star Wars now he wanted to discuss it with you" actually no i would just say "A big shoutout to Garlic Bread he loved Garlic Bread"

myself cause i should be sleeping but sleep is for the weak and i am the weak and the strong i am a paradox-

that i obsess too much on things and try involving people it never works out

nope. had braces for 4 years, that beat out teeth showing smiles

i prefer computer-tv ahahahahaha

never tried them, so IDK

naaaaah not motion sickness- never travelled by sea so idk seasickness

lobed ears

yep i believe that deeds do count in life and beyond

idk bruh i don't believe in physical attraction too much- bodies are fake- mentally/metaphysically tho, im a 7

ahhhhh many many Stupid Genius, Tani, Tanu, Tanya

i still do-

i really want to talk to a therapist. converse. and discover.

im both, i am both.

10:1 is the ratio- giving 10, receiving 1

uhhh nothing just when i am right and people use the old "disrespect" argument

3, Hindi, Marathi, English

girls

uhh no i am not

my hair i love them everyone says things about my hair but i love them

knowledge vibes i give, someone tells me- and that's all i ever wanted

anyone i know tbh, my mutuals, my friends, my discord friends

ahhh no i wouldn't but i wish i was born 20 years earlier

bleh bloo, neither like nor dislike

i don't know if i have one

i don't know, haven't had physical contact in a long long long time in a galaxy far far away

the above point stands but i would like to ig

anything i write, 3 hours later, i instantly hate just idk why

anything i write

that i am normal no i am not and i am not okay hahahahaha

65-70 ish people

somewhere around-

many many many don't ask please but okay if you do ask

somewhat

uhhhhh idr exactly but i won't tell in public duh uh

mediummm hairrrr

last year lockdown i became harry potter

i don't know buddy i seriously don't know

yep i do cause knowledge i like knowledge

naaah never tried

no i definitely cannot stand on my hands or my head for more than 30 seconds

yep, im pretty sure i answered most of them correctly-

og link-

#personal #ask #tumblr

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freedom-shamrock · 3 years

Text

Teacups and Firelights

This is my @atla-secret-santa gift for @wwjacksparrowd. Happy holidays, I hope you enjoy!

Also on AO3

______________________________

Something was definitely wrong in Ba Sing Se, and just being in the city gave Ty Lee the creepie crawlies several times an hour. After a week of putting up with it, she was at risk of going all Azula once she found the cause. Aang's meditation sessions were probably the only thing keeping her out of an uncontrolled avatar state at this point.

Ty Lee didn't always look or sound the most attentive to details, something that had served her well in the past, but she didn't need anyone to point out when there was something rotten right beneath her nose. Much of what she took in from around her stayed in her head, swirling around with everything else until she was able to make the connections she needed. She wasn't always the fastest of the Ty septuplets at picking apart the tangles of political intrigues, but she was more often right than any of her sisters (she was right more often than her friends, too, but she'd been careful not to point that out). She was also consistently the fastest Ty in sparring, though that may have come from being the avatar, so it felt like a cheat.

She'd come to the Earth Kingdom capital with her unlikely companions for a number of reasons, all quite pressing. Their top priority had been to share intelligence with the Earth king and his generals as part of Sokka's rather brilliant plan to take down the firelord. They'd gotten a meeting scheduled with King Kuei, and flaming monkey tigers, the Fire Nation had nothing on the Earth Kingdom's bureaucracy! If that weren't enough of a reason to come, they desperately needed time to recover from weeks of things going terribly, horribly wrong. That couldn't happen if they were being chased around the world by her Royal Fire Academy best friends (and the sister she'd left in her place with the circus to avoid raising suspicion when she went off to pursue her destiny). Not even General Iroh had been able to penetrate the ringed city's great wall, and while Azula was brilliant, she wasn't yet up to his standard. Her attempt involving a massive drill had failed, and the princess retreated, so they were safe from that quarter… for now. Their final reason for being in the vast city was to find Appa, her chronologically 112 year old airbending master's sky bison and one of the companions who had been with her since early in this convoluted adventure.

With two of their three goals addressed, or at least pending, they'd all split up to search for any signs of the ten-ton creature (who really shouldn't be this hard to find, even in Ba Sing Se). While out and about they were also gathering information on the general oddness of the city. Joo Dee's messed up orange aura and creepy smile sent a message that they'd all picked up on. Their extremely anxious neighbors, who quietly advised them to not ask questions and most of all to avoid the Dai Li, had flaming red auras. Living in the central ring of the city among the very wealthiest and most influential, they had no reason to show such fear. Well, unless King Kuei's court was as literally cut-throat as Firelord Ozai's but less open about it.

As she skipped down the clean and tidy streets of the inner ring, she noted that while the architecture was different from home, it was no less opulent than the capital she was most familiar with. She idly wondered if they used earthbending to suffocate out any undesirable plant growth, the way fire was used back home. Everything here was so orderly, or as Aang put it, inhibited to the point of joylessness. Even Toph, who was intimately familiar with Earth Kingdom upper class manners found it creepy.

She turned a corner and heard cheerful chatter unlike any she'd encountered during their stay. The Ba Sing Se social elite were quiet and dull, or perhaps they were deathly terrified to lose face and power from whatever was wrong here. Hearing people sounding like they did in every other part of the world was definitely something to investigate. Across the plaza and up a short flight of stairs was a tea shop. It's exterior had clearly been freshly painted, gleaming green and gold under the late morning sun. A cup of tea would make her day's work more pleasant. Pursuing her destiny had sounded a lot more fun before she'd spent weeks on end chasing one lead after another, without the time to really enjoy the places they stopped. They barely had time to bathe for most of the trip.

With a bit of a hop, she was able to vault over the railing, bypassing the stairs entirely. It was not entirely proper decorum, but she was dressed in a way that marked her as an outsider. She and Toph had spent hours comparing social rules and drilling them into Katara's head (the Water Tribe girl was quick to both mock the foolishness of the conventions and to demonstrate she could fit in with even the most elite social climbers). Ty Lee had a surprising number of things in common with her earthbending master, and her bluntness was no worse than Mai's, so they'd fallen into an easy alliance. Katara was something else all together. Despite their countless differences, she'd become a better friend than any Ty Lee had ever had. It was a given that she was a lot nicer than Azula, but she'd never met someone so focused on doing the right thing regardless of the risks, with no other motivation.

Ty Lee skipped up to the open doors and peeked in. This was unlike the other tea shops she'd visited in the city. The waiters were constantly in motion, delivering cups and pots of steaming tea to the many full tables of happy visitors. There was energy and enthusiasm here, not the fog of apathy. The dining room held the gentle fragrances of teas that were familiar and some that she was sure she'd never had. This would definitely clear her mind enough to start connecting all the weirdness of the city. While her friends were good at coming up with plans (spirits knew that they would have died in the desert if not for Katara, and Sokka's use of Wan Shi Tong's knowledge was flat-out brilliant), she felt that she really needed to be pulling her weight. She was the avatar, after all. It was bad enough that they had decided early on to let Aang masquerade as the avatar to take the pressure off her. If she wasn't at least coming up with some of the plans (beyond the completely random trips to spiritual centers), what good was she?

"Hello." A cheerful young man's voice called her out of her own head. "Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon. Our special for the day is Ba Sing Quon, a soothing tea for the refined palate."

She looked up into a very familiar face. "Zuko?" she squeaked. There was no way he could be anyone else. Even if he had a double here in the earth kingdom, there was no concealing the scar his father left on his face, and as one part of a seven-piece matched set, she was never fooled by look-alikes.

He sucked in a breath, his face going pale as he took a step back.

Her hand darted out and caught the long brown sleeve of his uniform before he could flee. "What are you doing here?" she whispered, keenly aware of the other staff and patrons around them. When she'd last seen him, Aang had knocked him out in the North Pole shortly before she and La had merged to obliterate the Fire Nation navy. Aang had run afoul of him a time or two since then, but she'd managed to stay out of his sight.

She could see in his eyes that he was weighing his options. Zuko had always been smarter than Azula wanted to believe. "What are you doing here?" he countered. "I thought you were hunting down the avatar with my sister." His remaining eyebrow arched.

"I'm on vacation," she said airily. "And what about you? Aren't you supposed to be on your own hunt?"

"Only if I want to return to court," he said with a sneer. "Which I don't."

She stared at him in awe. That was not something she'd ever expected to hear out of Azula's serious older brother. Frankly, his temperament was better suited to leading the country than her hot-headed school friend.

"I'm making my own destiny, and I'm done chasing ghosts for him," Zuko said firmly.

She offered him a small smile. "I'm happy for you. You deserve your own happiness."

He looked surprised.

"He was always a monster to you, and it wasn't fair," she said. She'd seen favoritism spoil the relationship she and her sisters could have had, and that had been nothing compared to what happened in the firelord's children.

Zuko shrugged. "Like father, like daughter."

Being chased all over the Earth Kingdom by Azula had given her a whole new perspective on her once best friend. "You're not wrong."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

She leaned back in her chair. "I know. I'm supposed to say she's an acquired taste and that she's not that bad, but… if I've learned anything the last several weeks, it's that Azula's been turned into a dangerous weapon that your father will turn on whoever he feels like." It had been frankly terrifying to have that weapon turned on her.

Zuko stepped back. "I'll be back with your tea."

She watched as he walked stiffly to the back of the shop, disappearing behind a curtain. He looked so much better than he had in the north. He actually looked happy. Moments later he returned with a small tray holding a single red-glazed white teacup.

"Your tea, miss." He placed it gently on the table in front of her.

"Thank you, Zuko."

"Lee," he said.

"What?"

"My name is Lee. This my uncle Mushi's tea shop." He took a slow breath. "We close at dusk."

She flashed him a cheery smile. "Very good to know. Thank you."

⁂

Ty Lee sat on the raised edge of the fountain in front of the Jasmine Dragon tea house, watching the sky turn a spectacular peach color. It had taken some pretty heavy assurances before her friends had been willing to let her go off and meet her Fire Nation contact solo. To be fair, they were all a little on edge. Even without Ba Sing Se's creepy aura (who knew a city could have its own aura?) they'd been hunted, chased, and attacked a little too often (especially recently) to just do as they pleased. She'd refused to share information on her contact, but agreed that they should come look for her if she wasn't back in an hour.

Paying close attention to the vibrations in the thin soles of her dance shoes, she looked up to see Zuko and General Iroh step out of the tea house, working together to close and lock the grand doors. She stood up and waited for them to approach. Zuko moved a little stiffly, but his uncle was as steady as always. He was difficult to read, but his white-streaked violet aura was reassuring. He'd shed the heavy mourning he'd still carried when she'd last seen him, well before she realized she was the avatar. They weren't here with Ozai's blessing or knowledge, then.

"Ty Lee," Iroh said quietly. "You are not someone I ever expected to encounter here in our new home."

She beamed at him. "Then it's a pleasant surprise for all of us," she declared.

Iroh stared at her for a silent moment. "I certainly hope that's the case. My nephew and I have settled in nicely, and I feel we've really found our place." He paused for another moment. "It would be a shame to have to uproot ourselves yet again."

She held out her hands to both of them. "As I told Lee," she smirked at Zuko, "it's nice to see you so happy. I obviously don't know what you've been through on your travels, but it seems to have smoothed out the difficulties life brought on you both."

"How are you even here?" Zuko asked, blunt but without the heat she might have expected. "Last I heard, you'd joined up with Azula to terrorize the avatar."

Ty Lee clapped her hands together. "Yeah, so I've heard."

"She doesn't let people leave her service," Zuko noted. "So I have to assume you're here on a mission for her."

She laughed a little and shook her head. "That situation is not at all what it seems to be."

A small but totally gleeful smile appeared on Iroh's face. "So her companion is one who shares your likeness?"

She rolled her eyes. "You'd think my best friend would be able to tell me and my sisters apart." She gestured to Zuko. "Lee knew it was me immediately." To give Ty Lao credit, she'd fooled everyone, including Mai and Azula, who should have seen through the masquerade.

"That still doesn't answer how and why you're here, though," Zuko pointed out.

"You aren't the only one seeking a different path," she said quietly.

Iroh's large callused hand wrapped around one of hers, and when she looked up, she could see understanding in his eyes. "I believe it is safe to say that none of us are a threat to the other."

Ty Lee nodded. "We're only here until we can meet with King Kuei, and I haven't even told my friends who I'm meeting with tonight."

"So you aren't alone, then?" Iroh asked. "That's good. Safer."

"Who are you traveling with?" Zuko asked, clearly more suspicious than his uncle. He'd never liked unknown variables.

"No one you know, silly," she replied easily. "It's just a small group of friends from all over the world."

"It's been wonderful to see you, my dear," Iroh said. "And I would love to stay and chat, but I've been on my feet all day. Why don't you and Lee catch up." He turned to Zuko and raised his eyebrows in question. "And do be sure to stop back in before you leave Ba Sing Se."

Zuko's shoulders drooped a bit and he nodded.

"How long have you two been here?" she asked once Iroh was gone.

"We're new to working in the upper ring," he explained. "But we've been in Ba Sing Se for several weeks now."

"We've only been here about a week," she said. The silence was uncomfortable. "So, I bet you know of some of the nice sights that we haven't found yet."

Zuko nodded. "Yeah. Why don't I show you the Firelight Fountain. It's in the lower ring, but it's actually really nice." He glanced around. "Less stuffy than the places in the upper ring."

"Sounds great," she agreed, following as he led the way to the nearby monorail station. "How did you come to Ba Sing Se, anyway?" When his face closed off again, she clarified. "I don't need every step of your journey. Just… how did Lee and Mushi end up here?"

He visibly relaxed and nodded. "Uncle knows people all over the world, and he got us new identities. It was easy to join the groups of refugees traveling here." He was silent for a moment. "I didn't really want to come here. I still thought honor was something my father could actually give or take away. But I wasn't in a position to argue with Uncle."

"The Dragon of the West is a formidable opponent," she agreed.

Zuko snorted. "I've come to understand that."

Ty Lee laughed, delighted to see him making something of a joke.

"Whatever we may think of the Earth Kingdom, they manage the people of Ba Sing Se well. They had apartments available and there's a communal kitchen for newcomers who don't have work placement yet." He shook his head, looking a little awed. "It's a far cry from what happens to refugees in… well, you know."

She did know. In the Fire Nation, being in a poor situation was seen as the culmination of poor choices, and aid wasn't freely given to people who had called misfortune on themselves. Her journey had helped her reframe all of that. No one person caused an earthquake or mudslide. Some people made all the right choices and still ended up poor.

"We still live in the lower ring, in one of the refugee apartments, but we're on a waiting list to move to the middle ring," Zuko continued. "I'm not really in a rush to move, because we don't need much. And I don't care about the status." He looked out the window, blind to the blur of the city passing beneath them. "But it would be good to make the apartment available to someone else. There's so many refugees coming into the city right now."

"I really mean it," Ty Lee said, leaning over to look out the windows as the carriage came to a stop. "I'm glad you're finding your own happiness."

He looked at her for a moment. "Thanks." He got up and gestured that this was their station. "And what about you? Are you finding your happiness?"

It was a fair question. She hadn't been exactly unhappy, not since joining the circus. "Purpose," she decided. "I enjoyed entertaining people, but it wasn't enough." Especially after her extra bending potential spontaneously manifested one evening, and she knew she was meant for more.

"And you needed to travel the world to find it?" he asked.

"Not really. Not to find it," she replied. "It's more that the traveling gets me to where I need to be, to… uh, engage in my purpose." That was vague enough, right?

"What is this purpose that can't be done back… home." That last word came out sounding distasteful. The Fire Nation probably hadn't felt like home since even before he was banished.

"Helping others," she declared. "It's more than I could do with the circus, and definitely not something I could do with Az… your sister." It would probably be best to avoid the name that was known the world over. She'd seen the Dai Li lurking on rooftops during the day. While most people didn't tend to look up, she was an acrobat and preferred to go up when she needed an escape. The buildings were taller here, and maybe lower ring inhabitants were less worthy of close monitoring, but she couldn't risk it. "She would've frowned on it, because I'm not just helping people she would have seen worthy."

Zuko nodded. "She's pretty selective in who she sees worthy of helping, and there's usually a reason behind who she chooses to help, something not remotely altruistic."

Ty Lee nodded. It was something she'd never liked about Azula, even before she'd learned more about herself. "She only watches out for herself and isn't really interested in real balance." It had been why she hadn't gone to her friend for help when she discovered she was the avatar. She knew Azula would cast their friendship aside as easily as she discarded an out-of-season gown, if it would curry favor with her father.

"Balance?" Zuko let out a huff. "You sound like Uncle." A rare smile found its way onto his face. "And that's not something I ever thought I'd say about you."

"I suppose." She laughed a little. "I'm both surprised and unsurprised that he supports balance."

He gave her a look that clearly begged her to explain further.

"The stories I've heard about his military days are very different from the man he is now." She shrugged. "I guess we can all change."

Zuko nodded. "He taught me to redirect lightning," he said in a low whisper.

She stared at him in surprise. "You can do that?!" She hadn't even heard it was possible.

"It's critical in facing off against my sister, or my father, for that matter."

He wasn't wrong. But how had she not found anything on that technique in all the many firebending scrolls she'd covertly read? Not even the Fire Sages' library contained that information. Spirits, she needed to learn that. But how could she do that? How could she get that information without telling Zuko more than he needed to know?

"Hey Lee!"

Ty Lee looked up to see a girl their age waving at Zuko from across the street. She wore her hair in paired braids and was dressed in Earth Kingdom green.

"Who's your friend?" Ty Lee asked, delighted by the blush she saw in his cheeks.

"Hello, Jin," he called back, waving awkwardly. It was enough encouragement for the girl to scurry over to them.

It might break Mai's heart if she knew what Zuko was up to in Ba Sing Se, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And Ty Lee wasn't in any position to tell her, not that she was inclined to.

"How have things been at the new tea shop?" the girl asked. "We've all been so excited to hear about it."

"It's going really well," Zuko said. It really was nice to see him happy as he chatted with the girl who clearly had a crush on him. "It's been better than even Uncle hoped for."

"That's wonderful!" The girl exclaimed. She turned to Ty Lee. "Hi, I'm Jin."

"Oh," Zuko looked a little nervous. "Jin, this is my, uh, cousin."

Ty Lee grinned. "I've known Lee practically all my life."

Jin's eyes and mouth went round with surprise. "Were you in the circus with him?"

That was his cover story? Ty Lee almost burst out laughing. This was too easy, and would give her something to tease him about for years. "I was in the circus."

"Were you in the juggling act with him?" Jin pressed, looking all the more eager.

Ty Lee shook her head. "No. I'm an acrobat." She demonstrated by bending backward to stand on one hand for a moment.

Jin clapped enthusiastically. "Oh wonderful." She glanced at Zuko for a moment before leaning in to whisper, "He's out of practice, so maybe don't ask him to show off his skills."

"Thank you for the warning," Ty Lee whispered back. She winked at him before speaking regularly again. "Lee is taking me to see the Firelight Fountain."

Jin clasped her hands together over her chest. "Oh, I'm just coming from there. You won't be disappointed." She turned back to Zuko. "It's all lit up tonight."

"Do you, uh… want to join us?" Zuko asked reluctantly.

"I'd love to," Jin said with a sigh. "But I should get back, and I'm sure you and your cousin need to catch up without strangers around."

"Thank you, Jin," Ty Lee said, bowing gratefully to the other girl. "We do have an awful lot to catch up on, and you know how families can be." She tilted her head and rolled her eyes. "Petty infighting and back-stabbing."

Jin laughed. "I'll see you another time, Lee. I'd love to hear more about the Jade Dragon."

"Jasmine Dragon," he corrected. "Like the tea."

"Oops. Yeah, Jasmine." Jin waved and continued back up the road the direction they'd come from.

"She seemed cheerful," Ty Lee said.

Zuko nodded, awkward again. "She's friendly. Happy."

"She likes you," she pointed out sincerely. There was no need for teasing just now.

He looked both pleased and a little embarrassed. "I know."

"I'm glad some of the people here are seeing who you really are." That certainly hadn't happened at home, not after his mother vanished.

He glanced at her in alarm. "She doesn't know… who I am."

She waved off his concern. "I'm not talking about where you came from or what you can do." She wiggled her fingers at him. "I mean who you are as a person."

"Oh." He nodded slowly. "You really sound like Uncle." He looked closely at her. "You're not the person you used to be. Not at all."

They stepped into a circle that could only be the Firelight Fountain. "It's lovely." The simple feature beautifully displayed three of the four elements at their best. A warm glow shone from the ring of lanterns, reflecting in the stone fountain's sparkling water. All that was missing was air, and Ty Lee could see small rings on the lanterns that had probably once held streamers to dance in the breeze. The designed balance was as askew as their world, and it broke her heart a little. She'd need to keep Aang away from this place. He didn't need reminders that he was the last of his kind.

"Hey," Zuko said softly. "Are you all right?"

Ty Lee sniffled a little and quickly rubbed at her eyes as she nodded. "Yeah."

"I didn't think you were the type to cry over a pretty fountain," he said.

"It's not just that." She sighed, trying to figure out how much she could tell him and how she could bring up lightning again. "It's… it's a painfully accurate representation of the world," she finally said. "It wants so badly to be balanced. But it isn't."

"Hmmm." He looked closely at the fountain again. "Did you know that the avatar is still alive?" he asked, his gaze intentionally turned toward the water. "He's traveling the world on a flying bison."

"Oh… yeah." She nodded. That bit wasn't exactly a secret. "I'd heard that. I'm pretty sure that's who your sister is chasing after."

"I saw a flyer the other day," Zuko continued. "I guess his bison is missing."

"How… unfortunate." She'd forgotten how good he was at intrigues, just because he didn't care for them. Had she let slip too much? While it was known in the upper ring that the avatar was there, she didn't want her friends to have to dodge Zuko or Iroh. Her firebending had come a long way, but she was no match for either of them. It was just another reminder of how ill prepared she was for taking down Ozai.

"Do you suppose he's found a firebending master yet?" Zuko asked, glancing at her before looking away again. "I imagine that's been a tough element for him."

"He's the avatar," she pointed out. "Shouldn't he already know how to bend all the elements?" They'd encountered that mindset more than a few times, and as the person trying to meet everyone's needs, it was incredibly frustrating.

"I don't think that's how it works." Zuko shook his head. There was a long moment of silence. "I met him once… well, more than once." He looked embarrassed again, as if he were cringing away from his past actions.

"Really?" Aang had shared all his encounters with the angry banished prince, and the boy always seemed disappointed about something.

Zuko sighed. "I wish I could meet him again, now." He met Ty Lee's eyes. "I owe him an apology."

"Really?" How did he keep surprising her like this?

Zuko nodded. "He offered me friendship and I threw fire at him. I hurt him and his friends when I was still desperate to complete my father's errand. It was wrong, and I see that now."

"You just wanted to come home," she said, internally forgiving him for the things he'd done as a result of the abuse he'd endured.

"Yeah, and I've come to realize that a place where you're expected to do things that you simply can not abide because they are morally wrong no matter how you look at it, that's not home," he declared.

"Has Ba Sing Se become your home, then?"

"It's closer," he admitted. "But not quite my home. Not yet." He moved to settle on the edge of the fountain.

"You might just need a bit more time," she suggested.

"Maybe," he agreed. "But I can't shake the feeling that there's something else I should be doing. Something more I could do to help restore the world's balance."

"Oh?" She wasn't sure how to bend that back to what she needed from him. "So what else could you be doing?"

"Teaching the avatar how to firebend," he said, his voice soft and matter of fact. "Like I said earlier, I think that being able to redirect lightning is going to be crucial." He chewed on his lip for a moment. "I've been going out at night looking for signs of his bison, Appa, I think is its name. And while I'm not fully sure I've found it, I might have a decent lead."

Her heart leapt in her chest and her throat felt tight. Appa was a creature of very few words and much wisdom. "Why… why would you do that? Look for Appa?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," Zuko said earnestly. "I've done the wrong thing so often, I have a lot to make up for. And I think it's going to take something monumental to get his friends to let me talk to him and offer my skills."

"Oh." She couldn't think of anything to say to that. How could she bring this up with her friends? Would they be willing to give him a chance?

"Because of the missing bison flyer, I know the avatar is in the city," Zuko went on. "Do you think it's wrong to hope that he might show up in the Jasmine Dragon one day?"

Her breath caught, and it was a struggle not to show it. "No." She coughed to clear her throat. "Stranger things have happened."

Zuko nodded. "You should get back to your friends before they start to worry." He stood up.

"Yeah." She did not want them coming looking for her.

"It was nice to see you, Ty Lee," he said, offering her a small smile. "Nicer than I would have expected."

"I'm glad I bumped into you," she said.

"Be sure to stop by the tea house again," he suggested. "Before you and your friends leave the city."

She smiled, feeling content for the first time in a while. "I will." She had a lead on both a firebending master and Appa's location. Perhaps those two details would be enough to get her friends to take a chance on adding a new member to the group. Maybe things were finally moving past the point of hopelessness, and she actually stood a chance at becoming a good avatar.

"I'll see you soon, Lee. I promise." She turned and walked up the street toward the monorail.

_____________________

This was fun to write, but also a challenge. I have never written from Ty Lee's perspective before, and I'm not sure I really nailed her character, but I'm hoping it's close enough.

#ATLA #fanfic #atla-secret-santa #wwjacksparrowd #ty lee #Avatar Ty Lee #Zuko #Iroh

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astraeagreengrass · 4 years

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The Queen's Husband [4/?]

When her reign is threatened, the Queen of Ergona must find a husband to secure her throne.

Word Count: 4.909

Warnings: There's smut on the second half - don't read if you're under 18! English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

A/N: Grab your dresses and your tiaras - we're going to a royal wedding! This is my first time writing smut and it took me such a long time to make it somewhat decent (if anyone has any tips on how to write better smut, please help a friend out). And although it's pretty tame and lame, keep away from the last part if you're under 18. As always, thank you to every one who's been following this story - it turned out to be so much more than I was expecting and I am forever grateful to anyone who takes some time off their day to let me know their thoughts ♡

Chapter four moodboard

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You and Captain Rogers were married on the first Sunday of October.

The bright summer months - mystical days when your relationship bloomed like flowers under warm sunlight - made way for fall. The air was growing colder and, early in the morning, you could see a white fog settling over Albeon, until the last remnants of the mid-year sun chased it away.

October’s arrival and the eminence of your wedding brought chills to your spine that had nothing to do with autumn. Everything was changing - your life, your kingdom, your heart. Outside the Keep’s walls, the streets were decorated with colorful flags, ribbons and balloons. Overnight, a group of street artists painted Main Street’s cobblestones with beautiful intricate chalk drawings of the most important moments of your reign. You’d never seen the capital - or Ergona, actually - in such high spirits.

To Lord Fury’s outrage, you ordered the Keep’s gates to be open on the wedding day. You simply turned your back on him as he berated about the dangers of letting the common folk in. Fury couldn’t change your mind - these people were your family. You may have growing affections for your groom, but you were walking down the aisle for them.

If they couldn’t see your sacrifices, may them at least know your love.

In the throne room, where the ceremony would take place, another chair sat on the dais. It was made of mahogany wood with gold accents, red velvet cushions and precious gems encrusted in it’s legs, armrests and back. The new throne was identical to the old one, albeit some five hundred years younger. It was a joint present from Lord Stark, the richest man in Ergona and your former guardian, and the Duke of Arvenia, Steve’s father: twin thrones to symbolize equal rulers, a first in your country’s history.

Steve himself said nothing when he first laid eyes on his throne. He kept a blank, neutral expression as his gaze quickly assessed the furniture, as if making mental inventory. He stiffly thanked Lord Stark and his father, before bowing to you and taking his leave, Sir Barnes hot on his heels.

Later that night, wrapped in the safe embrace of his arms, you asked him:

“Did you not like your throne?”

Steve sighed and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You were in your usual spot outside your chambers, three nights before the wedding and his coronation. Your moments alone were even more sacred now that you had found the courage to kiss him. It was physically painful to be apart from him during the day, counting down the seconds until you could shed the heavy cloak of duty and just be young and enamored. Steve’s courtship was bolder, more passionate. He’d kiss you back with such devotion it’d leave your head spinning.

“It’s not that” he replied. “I’m just afraid I can’t be what you need. And what Ergona needs.”

You were so worried overthinking the endless possibilities regarding your union that you never stopped to wonder how Steve was faring. He was quick to accept your proposal - more concerned about the legitimacy of your request than the weight of it. And sure, he was no ordinary man, but maybe the prospect of becoming king was taking its toll on him. You’d been trained for your role for eighteen years, while Steve barely had four months to prepare.

“Do you regret our engagement?”

“No!” he exclaimed. “Of course not! I would never. It’s just… Overwhelming, I guess.”

He bit his lip, as if the pain of teeth on skin could bring him the right words.

“I don’t want to say I was never scared while in battle, because I was. I’ve felt the fear of dying, but I embraced it. I embraced the possibility of not coming back from war, of perishing at the enemy’s hand. I supposed that what made me a good soldier - embracing your fears makes it look as if you don’t have them, even if you’re terrified. But what I’m feeling now… I can hardly understand it.”

“If I failed in battle, it would mean my death and that was it. But if I fail as a king, my mistake will live on and on in the lives of all of those in Ergona who will suffer it’s consequences. It’s terrifying.”

“How do you do it?” he begged. “Please help me be the king you and our country deserve.”

Steve Rogers was a good man. And you were falling desperately in love with him.

You saw him very little after that. You aunt Virginia, Duchess of Foghar, and your cousin Morgan arrived from the East, taking up most of your free time. Morgan insisted on sleeping with you, which prevented Steve from lingering at you door, but you didn’t have it in your to break the little girl’s heart. Instead, on your last evening as a maiden, the two of you built a pillow fort and cast shadows in the wall, spinning a fantastic tale of lovers and dragons and a king and queen who ruled Ergona.

Your bridal gown was a magnificent alabaster piece made of thick fabric, with long sleeves, elongated neck and a train. Mother-of-pearl buttons fastened it to your front and silver embroidery drew intricate patterns from hem to shoulders, which were covered by thick a fur shawl. It was a garment made for heavy winter, not autumn, but you insisted on it since it was your mother’s wedding dress. The only addition were the mother-of-pearl clasps, shaped like stars - a nod to Steve’s shield.

It was sweltering hot inside the antechamber where you waited. A set of double doors kept you from the throne room, your future husband and what appeared to be the entire kingdom. You were never one to be nervous with large crowds - you couldn’t - a mask of nonchalance couldn't hold stop Sir Samuel Wilson, Captain of the Queen’s Guard, who stood by the entryway, from noticing your fingers twitching.

“Are you having second thoughts, Your Grace?” he joked. “I can’t get you out of here, just say the word.”

You snickered. Captain Wilson was one the nicest, most genuine people you knew. Your first act as a queen was to knight him - your childhood best friend from Foghar, who followed you all the way to Albeon because “someone has to look after your royal ass.”

“You can’t help me this time, Sam” you sighed.

“Don’t be dramatic. Steve’s a good guy, Y/N” he reasoned. “You chose well.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about.”

Sam raised one eyebrow.

“I thought you shouldn’t lie when you’re wearing that” he pointed to the crown atop your head, a heavy adornment made of white gold and diamonds. “You have feelings for Steve, which makes you anxious because you hate it when you can't control things."

Before you could come up with a witty response to Sam's very accurate conjecture, Lord Stark arrived, your bouquet in hands - edelweiss for courage, baby’s breath for purity and myrtle for good luck and love in your marriage. Sam excused himself to give you and your uncle some privacy, as well as announce to the grand hall the bride’s upcoming entrance.

Lord Stark cleared his throat.

“You look beautiful, kid” he praised, brown eyes glistening with the tears he was trying to hold back. “Are you ready to do this?”

“Not if you cry” you cooed, gently swiping your thumb on his under eye. His skin was thinning, marked by some wrinkles that weren’t there when you first found yourself in this antechamber. Albeon had taken a heavy toll on your uncle, but not once had he complained.

“I can’t help it” Uncle Tony shrugged. “You’re my oldest daughter, it doesn’t matter what biology says. And I’m happy for you - I’m just crying because that’s what dads do, I suppose.”

Very carefully, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was hard to move your head around with the crown. It’s weight forced you to stand still and look ahead in perfectly regal posture. Which was how you walked down the Dragon’s Keep throne room, left arm linked to your uncle’s, as soon as the double doors opened.

On nights you couldn’t sleep you’d often find yourself here, in this wide room built by your ancestors to celebrate their victories and reinforce their rule. It was fairly simple for a throne room - Asgard’s throne room, for instance, was much more opulent - with few ornaments apart from the regular flags and traditional marble arches. It’s grandeur was in the sheer size of it and the glass dome that reflected sunlight in thousands of colors, all of which painted your gown as you made your way to Steve, who stood broad-shouldered at the foot of the dais.

He was wearing his military garb, composed of dark blue jacket and white breeches. The jacket was adorned with all the medals he'd received during his relatively short but immensely successful career. Sir Barnes was on his left as the best man, wearing red, watching with a satisfied, happy smirk as Uncle Tony placed your hand in Steve’s.

Presiding the ceremony was The Ancient One, a tall, bald woman of unknown age who was the leader of the Church of Ergona. The only occasion she left the sacred city of Kamar-Taj was to celebrate royal weddings and coronations in Albeon. Beside her were Master Wong, Master Mordo and Lord Strange, himself a master of the unseen arts too.

She married you first. Took your joined hands and laced them together in golden cloth, as you and Steve recited vows of love, trust and respect. It was fairly simple, not much different that it would’ve been if you were a commoner couple. After brief twenty minutes or so, The Ancient One declared you husband and wife.

There was no kiss - your first duty as a wife held precedence over it. From behind Steve, Lord Strange came with the crown and Master Wong with the State Sword.

Steve knelt before you, his gaze locked on yours. With clammy palms, you took the State Sword, gently placing it on his right shoulder.

“Do you solemnly promise to govern the people of the Kingdom of Ergona, according to its respective laws and customs?”

“I do.”

“Do you solemnly promise to be guided by justice and mercy in all of your tasks and doings, placing your people’s need before your own even in the darkest hours?”

“I do.”

“Do you swear to protect your people from their enemies, even if it means waging war?”

“I do.”

“Do you swear to be fair in your decisions and respectful in your actions, making no distinctions between citizens?”

“I do.”

The tip of the sword weighed like thousand of bricks on Steve’s shoulder, but nothing compared to the golden crown you placed on his head. It was burdensome, soul-crushing - and he'd never felt closer to you.

No one but him noticed the way your hands lingered on the sides of his face or your soft smile when you announced:

“Rise, Steven, King of Ergona.”

The throne room erupted in cheers.

After the feast, Natasha and Wanda prepared you for your wedding night. Your corset was loosened, your skirts removed, your jewelry stored away. Natasha delicately rubbed lavender scented oil on your pulse points while Wanda brushed your hair. A new nightgown was laid on the bed: made of the purest white linen, with lace trimmings and buttons down the front. The perfect look for a virgin queen on her nuptials.

The wedding feast had been a success. Guests from lands near and far enjoyed a decadent dinner of the likes your halls hadn’t seen in a long time, courtesy of Anthony Stark, the Duke of Foghar, to celebrate the nuptials of his beloved niece. Talented musicians entertained the guests, which included the Wakandan royal family and Steve’s cousins, the Princes of Asgard. You and the new King were lavished with the most incredible gifts - gems, tapestries and even horses. All the while, your hand clasped his tightly. His wedding band dug into your palm, but the sharp sting of it was reassuring.

Whatever happened from now on, you were not alone anymore.

There was a brief knock on the door before your aunt Virginia swiftly walked in.

“The King is on his way” she announced as she made her way to you. “Are you ready for this?”

Worry creased her eyebrows, hardening her beautiful face. Here was the woman who raised you as her own - when your mother perished and your father sent you away, Virginia Stark gave you all the love her heart could muster. While your uncle was your advisor and therefore had a duty to aid your rule, your aunt was the hand on your back, ready to offer you her comforts when the weight of the crown was too much.

She couldn’t help your carry it, but now, with the arrival of a man that could, she worried not for the Queen, but for the young woman at the verge of consummating her marriage.

“Please say something” Natasha pleaded as she tugged on your sleeve. She was wearing a beautiful ball gown of forest green which complimented her hair perfectly.

“This must happen” you answered as if you were speaking to your subjects and not the people who knew you best. “I’m sure he will be… Kind.”

Natasha snorted but before she could say anything another knock echoed in the room, louder and more persistent this time. You nodded at Wanda, who opened it, revealing Steve.

“Ladies. My Queen” he greeted at the threshold. From behind him you could see the silhouette of your uncle Tony.

None of the women moved until you commanded:

“Please leave us.”

Bowing to you and then to Steve, the women left the room. When Wanda closed the door behind the King, she sent you a reassuring smile.

You remained still in front of the huge four-poster bed, watching as your new husband slowly made his way inside your room. The windows were closed with pale pink velvet drapes matching the seating in the furniture. During the day they offered the most beautiful view of the gardens, but tonight no one but you and Steve would be witness to whatever took place.

The soft yellow glow of the candles cast shadows on his beautiful face. He’d always been incredibly handsome and yet you were amazed by how striking he looked now: clothes a little rumpled, lips wine stained and eyes blown wide and dark. A fading red line on his forehead from where his crown had been all now.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight” he said and you knew he meant it.

He was standing right in front of you now, although five feet apart. The distance between you felt as big as the distance between the Earth and the Moon, nothing but gravitational pull holding you still.

“I’m not scared” your voice declared, chin held high.

Steve laughed, so softly it felt like a breeze rustling the petals of the rose courtyard.

“I don’t think anything could scare you” he smiled. “But I’d hate for you to regret this.”

Steve loved you. He truly did loved you.

You’d believed his words when he said them. Knowing him to be truthful and honest, you believed his declaration, even if the meaning of it was incomprehensible for you then. You’d know the love of family and the love of friends, but never the sweet, selfless love of a lover, and you honestly never thought you would. But then Steve came like a hurricane, unabashedly storming into your life. Your feelings - neat organized boxes you kept in a imaginary shelf - were scrambled and confused, drowning you in a cerulean sea of bewilderment.

You trusted your body: the aguish you felt when he was away, the incessant fluttering in your stomach when he was near. The heat that took over your veins and crumbled your defenses.

You felt his care in your skin. You saw it, in the green shades of his blue eyes. It was there, visible for only you in candlelight. When morning came maybe you wouldn’t see it again and you’d wonder if it was even real or just your young mind playing tricks. But tonight maybe, maybe, you could let him love you properly.

“Then I guess you should make me not regret it.”

His steps towards you were slow and measured. His boots made little sound on the wooden floor, but the wait was so agonizing you swore they thumped to the rhythm of your heartbeat. When he finally reached you, chest to chest and feet to feet, Steve took your chin in his hands, tilting your head so your eyes could meet.

The move was just like the first time, but the kiss was anything but. Steve’s lips were familiar now, safe territory where you could get lost in for hours. Your tongue had traced its shape and your teeth had pulled on it’s skin. You learned that a kiss was so much more than a press of mouths. There was a lot that could be soundlessly said: “I need you”, “Thank you for being here”, “I’m scared”, “I adore you”.

Your husband’s hands were on your hips, holding and squeezing with fervor. You threw you head back when he started kissing your neck, lips and beard trailing fire on the column of your throat. You barely held your gasp when he squeezed your bum.

“No,” he gruffed. “Let me hear you.”

Tentative fingers tangled in Steve’s hair, their grip tightening as his hands wandered further. Kissing him was the most divine delirium. The otherwise soft fabric of your nightdress now felt scratchy as it shielded your nudity. Even the rich velvet of his waistcoat couldn’t compare to the stroke of his skin.

You were panting heavily when Steve touched your foreheads, eyes glazed and lips plumped. You thought you’d gotten pretty good at reading him these past months - how the hues on his irises hinted at a thousand words he sometimes wouldn't say. He was a quiet one, your husband. He saved his voice for when it was necessary, not just to join the superfluous stream of words you sometimes were victim to.

“Are you sure?” he asked, hoarse and breathless and tantalizing.

You answered unbuttoning the first button on his waistcoat, then the second and third. He didn’t stop it when you pushed it off his broad shoulders and to the floor and then moved on to his tunic. Steve’s torso was a masterpiece of solid muscles under tanned skin. Some faded scars littered the expanse of it, souvenirs from battles past, but you thought they worked on reminding you he was real.

Carefully, you placed a kiss in the center on his left shoulder blade. His skin was warm and tasted salty, but you liked it. Under your palm, Steve’s heart raced.

“Y/N?” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“Can I remove your nightdress?”

You nodded, cheeks pressed to his chest so you could ground yourself in his heartbeat. Steve pecked you softly before kneeling.

“You have me on my knees, my Queen” he professed. “I will cherish you and love you until the end of my days.”

You shivered when he gently took your left foot in his hands, laying a kiss to your ankle. Slowly, his hands and lips moved upwards, trailing your calf, knee and thigh. Out of all of Natasha’s explanations about eroticism, she never mentioned the delirious feeling of a man’s beard touching skin - but then again, you were very fond of Steve’s beard.

When he reached your hip, the nightdress was sitting sideways in your body, covering everything but your leg. A hand went to Steve’s shoulder to steady yourself as he bit your hip bone. Everything was hot, as if the whole room was aflame. Blue eyes locked with yours before he lifted the rest of the fabric, rising as he revealed your body.

It was a strange sensation, sharing your nudity with someone. Of course you’d been nude in Wanda’s presence as she bathed you, or your aunt’s, or even as doctor’s, but it never felt so vulnerable. You wanted your body to be appreciated and desired - for Steve to bask in it the same way your were basking in his, but you couldn't help the shame and insecurity.

He saw the change in your demeanor, how your shoulders tensed and your arms moved to cover your middle section. Steve was hard as a rock, his erection straining his trousers in a terribly uncomfortable way. It wasn't his first time, but no past experience could compare to the reality of finally being with you, his beloved, whom he loved from afar for so long.

He hugged you, just like you did that night when he confessed his fears of ascending to the throne, and you relaxed. Your chest against his was heavenly, and your heartbeats harmonized as if all they ever needed was to touch each other through the skin.

“You’re so beautiful” he whispered. “I’m so happy. Thank you for marrying me.”

“Shouldn’t I be thanking you?” you joked.

He laughed and it was irresistible, so you kissed him again.

Cautiously, his fingers caressed your spine, sensually gazing over your bum and reached the back of your thigh. Sometime during the night - while you were fervently kissing him or trying not to faint, perhaps - you failed to notice how your intimacy was progressively getting wetter. Steve’s touch startled you, making you jump in his arms. He immediately removed his hand and apologized.

“I’m sorry, is this too much? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“No, no, no” you stuttered. “It was just sudden. But it felt… Good.”

Gods, what a shame. If only there was a guide on how to lose your virginity without making a complete mess of yourself!

“Should we lay down?” Steve suggested, an amused smirk on the corner of his mouth.

“Please.”

You swiftly sat on the bed, pulling on some furs to cover your modesty. Steve stood, hands on his waist as he watched his bride try to hide her inexperience. He wasn’t surprised - you were taught any kind of imperfection was a sign of weakness. Over the years, you learned of hundreds of different ways to hide your inabilities until you eventually overcame them. It was the way of your world. He had hoped to break down these barriers during your courtship, but time wasn’t on his side. It would be his lifelong mission to cherish you and your imperfections, no matter how big they may seem to you.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to disappoint you, I’ll try to…”

“Take off my trousers” he interrupted your rambling.

“What?”

“Take off my trousers, Y/N.”

Attentively, as if fondling a bird, your hands moved to the front of his breeches. He look regal, almost imperial, even with chest bare of and hair mussed - and you, his disconcerted queen who could barely undo the fastings. It was comical, really, how you gawked at his cock when it sprung free. There was no way that would fit inside you.

“Now, could you please lay down?” Steve asked softly. It was a bit odd to guide you - he was used to you holding the power and making the decisions, not the other way around. Yet his manhood twitched at the sight of you obeying him and his heart soared knowing you trusted him enough to follow his lead.

You lowered your head on the pillows, body stiff as a board stretched on the rest of the bed. Steve laid on his elbows by your side and gravity made the front strands of his hair hang by his forehead - your angel on Earth.

“Will you let me touch you?” he murmured. “I promise I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”

You nodded, hypnotized by him, naked in your bed. Steve pecked your lips, your chin, your jaw and moved to your neck. Your feet started dragging the comforter on their own accord as he showered your throat with tiny bites and teasing licks, as if you were a delicacy he was just dying to taste. Your breath hitched when he reached you collarbone and sternum. His right hand took one breast as he would a petal, caressing it with the pad of his thumb.

You lost it when he took a nipple in his mouth, the soft skin peddling as he licked it. Steve decided he’d fight a thousand wars just to hear your moan like that.

His member was pressed to your stomach and you tentatively reached for it. It felt like iron and velvet at the same time. Your husband hissed at your touch, pulling your nipple from his mouth as he groaned your name.

“Did that hurt?” you asked.

“In the best possible way” he was so disheveled and it was glorious. Before you could let go of his cock, Steve wrapped his hand around yours and his member, his wrist tugging them up and down the hardness.

His sounds urged you on as he resumed his assault on your chest. He grunted particularly teasingly when the hand that was on not caressing him tugged his blonde strands.

Gingerly, his fingers found the apex of your thighs again. Slowly he dragged them across your labia, as if memorizing your intimacy with his digits. His thumb found your clit and he rubbed figure eights on it, making your body go lax on the mattress.

“Steve…” you whined, and he drunk from your desperate sounds.

It didn’t take long for you to come with two of his fingers inside you. You felt so full and so good and so intoxicated by his smell and presence. It was an out of body experience - reaching higher and higher until you just soared, Steve as your guide. As for him, he had the smuggest smile on his face as he watched you fall apart.

Your vision was blurry as he hovered over you, the picture of perfection, and kissed you again. Involuntarily, as if they knew that’s what they should do, your legs opened to him, and his hips locked to yours.

“May I?” he whispered right as you felt the tip of his cock on your entrance.

“Yes.”

It hurt like hell. As slow and gentle as Steve was, you couldn’t help the tears leaking from the corner of your eyes and the colorful expletives you yelled at him.

You both breathed in relief when he was fully sheathed in. His shoulders were red and dotted with half-moon marks from your nails and the muscles on his arms and back were tensed from sheer pleasure. It left a bad taste in his mouth - fucking you shouldn’t feel as divine as it did when you couldn’t feel it. But God almighty, the way your cunt squeezed him…

Slowly, he started moving, taking the salt of your tears with his lips and turning them into delight. Gradually, your whimpers turned to moans as you lost yourself to this new, euphoric feeling. Your right leg, the one he so fervently adored just moments prior, was hooked around his hips. A bead of sweat made its way down his forehead and you wanted to lick it and taste it, take it from him the way he was taking from you.

But it felt so much more than that. He was taking just as much as he was giving - your hands clasped together in the mattress was an anchor, a portal channeling your souls. His became yours and yours became his.

Steve came exclaiming your name, his semen leaking from your body to the mattress. It was a strange victory, to have him sweating and struggling to breathe, but you rejoiced in it anyway. Despite the ache between in your legs, you longed to do it again.

Your husband rolled over, collapsing next to you on the bed. He took your palm, still entwined with his, and kissed it. Dozens of kisses had been shared tonight, but mayhaps that was the most meaningful.

“Are you well?” he asked. “Are you in pain?”

“I’m fine” you assured him, and you were. The discomfort would fade, but this newfound happiness would stay. Not from sex, but from sharing. He was in your blood now - your husband, King and partner.

You tugged his forearm when he rose.

“Where are you going?”

“To get you a warm cloth” he explained.

“Stay” you pleaded. “Just a little bit.”

Steve pulled you to his embrace, limbs tangling and hearts meeting under the canopy.

“I love you, Y/N” he said. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Your mouth opened on instinct, but your throat was raw. You wanted him to know that you knew and you believed. You wanted him to be sure that you'd meet him there, even if your steps were slow and sometimes unsure. The need to assure him that you were not on the same page yet, but yours was turning was vital - however unnecessary. Before you could utter anything, his thumb was on your lips, shushing you.

“I know you can’t say it back yet, but it’s fine. We have time.”

On the first Sunday of October, Captain Rogers became the Queen’s husband - and Steve became the keeper of your heart.

#steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #king!steve #king!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #king!steve rogers x you #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve x reader #marvel au #steve rogers au #corneliabarnes #my writing

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infinite-hearts-333 · 4 years

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Masked Love Chapter 1

Sander sides, Rociet, Human/Magical AU

WARNING: mentions of past dehumanising, reference to PTSD flashback??, um bullying reference.

Masterpost

~~18/5/2022 6:37am (Present time)~~

“Janus?”

Janus grumbled, pulling the weighted blanket over his head more as what sounded like his mama's voice filled his too-tired, half asleep brain. “Noooooooooo….”

“Janus! JANUS! I know you're awake up there!!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” Janus groaned back, pulling the blanket tighter over his head.

“JANNIE IF YOU DON'T LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER I’LL COME UP THERE WITH THE COLD BORE WATER AGAIN~!” Came the singsong voice of his mom, and Janus full on scrambled out of bed, covers sent flying and he had to double check his claws to ensure they didn’t ensnare on anything through his half sleepy, half panicked daze.

“COMING! COMING!! Yesh….” he called, before grumbling, yawning, completely use to the soft popping of his unhinged jaw, forked tongue tasting the air. Waffles…. Mmmmm….

He quickly got ready, body automatically from routine, getting changed into his clothes- a lime turtle neck, black jacket with pins and patches attached, sunflower yellow beanie, skinny black jeans and his boots. He hummed a loose tune as he moved, alike to clock work, moving to turn to his bed, tugging the poor flinged sheets back into the right position, snatching up his stuffed dragon that had fallen onto the floor and placing it on top of his pillow gently.

Janus’s room was, in fact, the attic. His mum and mama weren't… expecting him when he showed up, but they took him in and loved him all the same. The rickety old house they had didn't have enough rooms for Janus to move into when he got older, so his parents spent ages rebuilding the attic for him. You could tell in some places- the seams where the wall met the roof weren't all the same size, the floorboards ran crookedly rather than straight, there were chips in both the walls and the floor where the wood wasn’t smooth.

But janus loved his room. It was cosy- there different metals and CD disks strung up which glinted like precious gems under the sky window, he had a large rainbow flag hanging over his bed in the corner, fairy lights stuck on the wall all around the room. Boxes upon boxes peeked out of his bed, filled to the brim with the most random things, leaves, feathers, stones, shells, bones, name it, Janus probably had it.

Walking to where his room ended, a wall with a human sized hole in the floor, he paused by the mirror, only to wrinkle up his nose in disgust at what he saw staring back. Janus was actually pretty handsome, nice clear tanned skin, brilliant eyes that shined lime and forest green and firefly yellow all at the same time. Chestnut hazel hair that hung in ruffled curls framed his face. He was strong, a little buff and according to his mother and mamma, quite the personality. But there were two things.

Janus’s jaw. It faded into the most horrid shade of olive green, splotches of lime, deep forest green and the colour of dying cactuses for scales, littered across the bottom half of Janus’s face. Two gross dusty pink scars ran from the corners of his mouth, stretching out and curling, nearly to touch his ears, one on each side. Darting in and out of his abnormally large fanged mouth was a forked blue tongue, fading into pink at the back of his mouth, the slightest sign that janus was once human.

He softly sighed, turning away to wander to the wall, and so the holes well, jumping through it to land on the couch flawlessly. “Morning.” He mumbled to the two females cooking and giggling at each other. “Morning' darling~!” called Mamma, smiling brightly. “Did you sleep well, little snek-a-doodle?” Teased his mum, smiling warmly as she parted from her partner to ruffle her adopted son's hair.

Janus smiled back up at her, and couldn't ignore the pang of happiness when all he found in mum's eyes was love. “We made waffles for your big day!” Chimed Mamma, beaming as she worked at the stove.

Ah. Right. High school. Janus groaned, leaning back to painfully donk his head against the wall. “Do I have to go?” He whined. “Yup!” his mum said, popping the ‘p’. Janus rolled his head off the wall, allowing his eyes to drop to problem number two in his life. His hands. Or well…. Talons.

Janus’s hands, a lot like his jaw dyed into that horrid olive colour, splattered with scales. He had four ‘fingers’ instead of five, each ending with a large sharp claw that was almost an ivory green if held in the right light. Scars lined his hand where the scales started, signs that janus wasn’t born with these abnormal features.

His mum then slapped him over the head with a rolled up newspaper. “OW! Hey!!!!!” snapped Janus. His mum raised an eyebrow. “You were pulling the face you make when you're judging yourself. And I'm having none of that. You're beautiful, fullstop.” she narrowed her eyes at him, daring him to prove her wrong. Janus chuckled. “Guilty as charged.” he hummed, standing to walk over to their small island counter.

His mom huffed, nodding, walking alongside her son, combat boots making a soft thumping noise on the tiles. Janus hid a wince as the sound of clicking heels entered his mind.

Click, click, click.

He swallowed, sitting. “Here you go!!” chirped Mamma, smiling as she placed the plates down. “Thank you dear.” Mom said softly kissing Mamma’s cheek on her way past. “Thanks mamma.” Janus chipped in, trying not to show his teeth while he smiled. Mamma beamed, swirling around to plop down in her seat.

Janus reached out to grab the berries, randomly dropping them over the waffles. He was cautious, ensuring he didn’t open his mouth too wide, taking in small little bites. Mum started talking about what she would be doing while Janus was at school, working on the new barley crops. “Those darn aphids! They've been going off everywhere!!!” Janus slowly chewed on a piece of blue berry.

“I think you're gonna need to get some pest spray mum.” Janus pointed out. Mamma nodded. “Do you want me to pick some up honey? I’m going into town anyway for some more mango seeds.”

Janus smirked against his milk glass, washing down the waffles. “Again with the Mangos Mamma?”

Mamma shrugged, smiling. “I want to make some jams! And maybe I might try making mango sorbet again.” Janus grinned. “Yes please!” His gaze flickered to the clock on the wall, and he sighed. “Well, as much as I hate it, I should go.” he said with a huff, shovelling the last of the waffles into his mouth and drowning the milk.

“Okay darling, have a nice day!” Mamma said with a smile. “See you this afternoon ‘kay snek-a-doodle? You’ll help me with the cows again?” Janus smirked, collecting his plate and glass. “Absolutely.” he stated, placing his dishes in the sink. “See you this afternoon!” he called, snatching up his gloves and mask off their hanger and then scooping up his bag.

He swung his bag half on, fumbling to put on his yellow gloves. They were bulky and too big to allow room for his claws, a black band around the start of the four fingers and wrist to prevent slipping and looked ridiculous, but it was better than exposing his features to the world. He had to be careful, pausing to ensure none of his scales got caught on the fabric. He then put on his mask, a simple also yellow fabric that covered his mouth and nose. He then twisted to reach into his front pocket of his bag, pulling out his earphones and lime mp3 player, shoving the buds into his ears and turning it on, blasting the music at the highest volume.

[ 🎶 Looking for an exit in this world of fear

I can see the path that leads away

Mama never left, and daddy needs me here

I wish the wind would carry a change

Looking through the window to a world of dreams

I can see my future slip away

Honey you won't get there if you don't believe

I wish the wind would carry a change 🎶 ]

He wandered through the fields of crops and fields of animals, waving a hello to the farmer next door. Michel, his name was, he grows the best peaches. He guessed that there was a satisfying crunch as Janus jumped from a small ledge down onto the orange autumn leaf-covered road. Wandering along the side of the road, Janus quietly hummed along to his music all the way to the bus stop. He quickly checked the suns position, having done it many many times, relieved to find he was on time and the bus should be here any minute.

[ 🎶 I've had enough

I'm standing up

I need, I need a change

I've had enough

Of chasing luck

I need, I need a change 🎶 ]

Sure enough the death machine, painted yellow and screeching nearly as loud as its passengers came swerving around the corner, somehow audible through Janus’s music, metal rusted gears screaming as the beast came to a halt. That thing was definitely gonna kill people one day. Janus huffed, climbing the rickety steps and flashed his card at the bus driver, who looked like he had been going for six months without sleep and would snap someone's neck.

They traded nods, having known each other since Janus first ‘moved’ to the country. They never really spoke to each other, but traded nods, ‘hey’s’, and ‘mood’s’ so he was cool. Janus sat right behind the bus driver, dumping his bag next to him so no one would take the seat next to him. Not that it was necessary, everyone actively avoided him. He then maintained his death glare, slipping it on as easily as putting on his mask.

Some kids, janus found, take enjoyment in throwing things at the bus driver, so janus took it upon himself to protect the bus driver from the nuisances, and in return, once the bus driver found out, he would keep the passengers from taking the spot so Janus wasn't forced to sit next to anyone.

[ 🎶 I'm setting fire to the life that I know (I know)

Let's start a fire everywhere that we go (we go)

We starting fires,

We starting fires till our lives are burning gold 🎶 ]

Janus sat, guarding the busdriver and spacing out till he felt the bus sharply halt. Hip hip hooray for hell. He sighed, standing up and wandered off the bus, bidding farewell to the busdriver with a small nod of the head. He turned his attention to his new problem.

The school's shadow engulfed him standing tall over him, and a part of janus feared it may crumble and crush him. People were chatting, boys flirting and betting, bullies shoving random people and dropping curses. Janus’s personal hell. Well, here goes nothing!

[ 🎶 I've had enough

Of chasing luck

I need, I need a change 🎶 ]

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codevassie · 4 years

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Fantasy TS Fic Recs

[***Let me know if I’ve missed anything on the Content Warnings!]

[**Do Not Ask Authors for Updates!]

[*Leave these authors Comments, please and thank you!]

Put A Spell On You by LostyK

Status: Complete

Summary: Roman sighed, trying to figure out how best to explain it. “I think everyone’s in love with me.” Virgil rolled his eyes. “How do you walk around under the weight of that ego?” Everyone is acting strangely around Roman. Thank god his best friend (and crush) Virgil seems to be unaffected, because he's going to need all the help he can get to figure out why everyone is confessing their love to him.

Relationships: Prinxiety, Minor Logicality

CW: Love Spell, Nonconsensual Kiss, Toxic jealousy, Sexual References, Potentially Disturbing Imagery, Manipulation of someone under the influence of a love spell, Violence and Blood Mention, Spider Mention

My thoughts: I stumbled on this fic by accident and that may have been one of the best accidents of my life. It’s so cute and funny and the characters are right on--not to mention the urban fantasy setting. It’s the perfect setting for this plot, with the fantasy element of magic and the normalized element of a school campus. And Remus has a relatively small part, but he’s absolutely brilliant in this author’s style. Roman and Virgil’s relationship throughout the whole thing is also Very Special to me and my heart. Really really good. Please go check this one out!

Broken Wings by proxxima

Status: Incomplete, Work In Progress

Summary: Virgil, once one of the greatest thieves ever known, ended up in poverty. In order to survive, he has to accept what one would call a suicide mission: stealing an extremely valuable jewel from a mysterious nobleman. However, his wings fail him and Virgil finds himself alone and injured in a foreign kingdom, not sure who he can trust.

Relationships: Prinxiety, Picani/ Sleep(Remy), past logince, intrulogical

CW: Swearing, Unsympathetic Remus, Unsympathetic Deceit, Blood, Alcohol, Death and Murder Mention, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Blood and Violence, Anxiety, Injury, Implied Sexual Content, Innuendo, Past Abuse, Mental Breakdown, Character Death, Implied/ Referenced Torture, Threats, Mourning, Abuse, Abusive Friendship

My thoughts: This! Fic! Y’all!! I’ve been keeping up with it for a while now and every week is like a brand new adventure. There’s always so much going on here and so many things that I can’t wait to figure out. The author, An, is so good at revealing little by little so we’re always on our toes. They also make the cutest Prinxiety, the most suspenseful situations, and the best freaking characterizations for all of them. I would die for all of the characters. It’s pretty intense right now because there’s only a few updates left and everything is going down. Go check this out in its final stretch and I’m sure you’ll love every bit!

Of Forests and Kings by Avery_Kedavra

Status: Incomplete, Work In Progress

Summary: Roman loves to save the day, but when he ventures through the forest to topple the reign of the evil king, he gets a lot more than he bargained for--a tired king, a deadly forest, and a terrified crown prince. Logan would have been perfectly happy letting Roman run off on his own, but Patton insists they go rescue him. With the ever-annoying Daniel, they chase him through the forest, hoping to reach him before trouble does. Trouble, however, waits for no one.

Relationships: Prinxiety, Logicality

CW: Death, Fantasy Violence, Weapons, Arguing

My thoughts: Classic fantasy in a not-so-classic way. Roman is not the prince here, nor is he a dashing hero or knight. He is quite the character though, and he is so entertaining to read. His and Virgil’s banter is to die for. And, on the other end, Logan, Patton, and Daniel(Deceit)’s journey is just as entertaining. I honestly can’t get enough of Daniel--his characterization is quite on point. It’s surprising and interesting and fun and I can’t wait to see where the heck it’s going!

My Dreams Made Music In the Night by coconutcluster

Status: Complete

Summary: Virgil never believed in shooting stars - not really, anyway - but when one crosses the sky one night, he makes a wish (if you can even call it that) on impulse, and soon finds himself waiting for it again, night after night. (Or, rather, waiting for the golden figure in his dreams that always follows.)

Relationships: Prinxiety

CW: Mention of Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Anxiety

My thoughts: This fic... magical, dreamy, ethereal, beautiful. It has dreams and stars and dancing and a setting that takes you away from the real world. It’s just very peaceful--quietly happy--a small reprieve from the trudge of daily life that pushes it far away, makes you forget for a while. I remember I was on the bus when I read this, on a morning after a long car ride and little sleep and too little schoolwork done and too many hours at a job that I gave too much to. It gave me peace that morning, so it’s stuck close to me. I just love this fic a lot.

Of Trying and Towers by parsnipit

Status: Complete

Summary: “Then there’s Princey. He always wants to go haring off after these impossible, grandiose dreams.” “Like breaking the Queen’s Stone, stealing all of her power, and freeing the entire kingdom from a rule that’s lasted well over five centuries?” “Yeah,” Anxiety said. “Like that.” After (grudgingly) attempting to overthrow the monarch of his country, Anxiety finds himself the sole survivor of a curse that takes Thomas and the other sides away from him. To make matters worse, he’s trapped in a tower with his own self-loathing and cowardice, and he finds himself guarded by an unusually polite dragon. What’s a guy supposed to do? Break out of the tower, finish overthrowing the monarchy, and save Thomas and the other sides. Obviously. (Ugh. He really doesn’t feel good about this.)

Relationships: Prinxiety

CW: Anxiety and Panic Attacks, Hunting, Blood and Violence, Minor Medical Procedures, Injury, Death, Mild Gore, Self-Loathing, Brief Self-Harm, Allusions to NSFW, Ableist Language, Mentions of Torture, Execution, Drowning, Murder

My thoughts: And, of course, I couldn’t do a fantasy list without this one! This was one of the first fics I ever read for this fandom, which probably explains my taste in fics for this fandom (aka addicted to prinxiety. i’m sorry. one day i’ll rec more than prinxiety and lamp). I really like this because they’re all still aspects of Thomas’ personality, but it’s in a completely new setting--so canon with a twist. I thought it was a pretty great intro to fics in the fandom too because it considers all four core sides and it’s wonderfully written. I really want to reread it now, actually. It’s been a while. If you’re new or old to the fandom, I’m sure this will be one you enjoy.

#fic recs #sanders sides #ts #prinxiety #friday fic recs #catch me out here passionately supporting my friends!!!#fantasy will never get old y'all #ya gotta love magic and kingdoms and dragons #enjoy these awesome fics y'all #and hey let me know if you do #i'd love to hear!#next week: hetalia recs #i have a theme picked out but i might change it so i'll just leave it at that

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that-wimpy-cowboy-doll · 4 years

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Because Why Not?

@idontgettechnology tagged me because she knows that I fall more in love with her and our friendship every day 🥰

👽 Do you believe in aliens? Yes’m

👽👽 If so, what do you think they look like? Depends on the environment of whatever planet or system they’re in. It also depends on whether or not they’re carbon-based or something else. There are theories that ghosts in our world are actually interdimensional beings/aliens that we physically can’t perceive because we can only understand the world around us in a certain amount of dimensions. tldr; I don’t know that we could know what aliens look like, depending on where they’re from

🤡 Do you have any phobias? Skunks, failure, being forgotten

💀 What is your favorite thing to do? Read, sleep, spend time with loved ones

☕ Name the tastiest hot beverage. There’s a sexy sweet citrus mocha at my new favorite coffee shop that I love

🥛 Name the tastiest cold beverage. Something fruity but not too sweet

😇 What do you believe is your most angelic quality? Compassion

👹 What do you believe is your most devilish quality? Dark humor

🧜‍♀️ If you could be any mythical creature, what would you be and why? Look, bud, probably the root reason of why I love redheads is 1000% due to The Little Mermaid (1989)

😻 Describe the sweetest moment you have had with a pet. Anytime a cat comes to sit on me and does that slow blink thing, and anytime a dog rests their big goofy head in my lap

🌎 What is your most far-fetched ‘bucket list’ item? As I get older, fighting someone

🤔 Describe the most influential person in your life. My dad

🤯 Do you have a mental illness? Hahahahahaha YES

🦄 If you could shape-shift into an animal at any time, what would it be and why? Anything that hibernates through the winter, so I could live out my dream of eating anything and everything and then immediately going to sleep for a few months

🍣 Are you a sushi connoisseur? Nope.

🤓 Do you consider yourself a nerd? Yup.

📆 Have you set goals for your life? To not die unfulfilled.

📆📆 If you have made goals, name a few. Become a full-time professor. Publish a book.

📆📆📆 If you’re living life in the moment, explain away. We live in the worst possible timeline, my profession is notorious for not making a ton of money, and the area I live in is one of the most expensive places to live in the world.

🤩 Name a famous celebrity you dream of meeting. Abbi Jacobson

🌙 Are you a moon or sun person? Moon

🚀 If you could travel back in time to any era, where would it be? If I could pass as a very tan Eastern European, maybe the 20s or 40s. Just to visit and enjoy the music

🚀🚀 What kind of life would you want in this era? A brief one.

🦕 Do you wish dinosaurs existed in our modern world? Not now, thanks. That just adds an extra layer of stress.

🦕🦕 If so, would you want a dino pet? Name the kind. Stegosaurus

🎃 Name your favorite holiday. Chrimmas and 4th of July (say what you will about the second one, it reminds me of barbecues and fireworks with my dad).

😊 What do you believe is your most redeeming quality? Fucking compassion, I hope.

😴 Do you get enough sleep? Noooope

🏈 Are you a sport enthusiast? SF Giants, baybee

🦂 Describe your best friend. Goofy, funny, intelligent, loving, sweet, and the absolute love of my life.

🥑 Fruits or veggies? Porque no los dos?

🤞 If you could snap your fingers like Thanos from The Avengers, what would you make happen? I’m gonna have to side with Emily and make Bernie have won the 2016 election

😎 Do you consider yourself a cool kid or a total square? In no lifetime have I EVER been a cool kid

🍭 Do you have a sweet tooth? Of course not, she says, as she finishes the last pieces of chocolate orange in the house

🏥 Do hospitals freak you out? Not really. I know they should, because body fluids freak me out, but not really.

🍕 What’s the best pizza topping? Sausage and olive

🧘‍♀️ When was the last time you did something just for you? Couple weeks ago, I stayed at a hotel by myself, got naked and ate my weight in pesto pasta in bed while I watched Captain America flex his muscles trying to keep his best friend (boyfriend) from fleeing the country

🎣 Have you ever been fishing? Yes

👶 Do you want to have children someday? Someday

🥔 Name your favorite form of the potato. Au gratin

🌵 Do you have a green thumb? Not at all

🐩 If you have one, name your dream dog(s). A pibble

🍂 Winter, spring, summer or fall? Summer

🐳 Does the ocean freak you out or entice you? Mama ocean calls to me every time I see her

🐚 Ever been scuba-diving or deep-sea fishing? Nope

📸 Do you take a lot of photos? Not really

🎵 Name your three favorite artists/bands. ABBA, The Beatles, and Louis Armstrong

🎵🎵 What about your three favorite genres? Alternative, big band swing, and R&B

🎸 Can you play an instrument(s)? Just the throat and the lungs

🔬 What was the best class in high school? English

🔬🔬 What about the worst class? Math

🕹 Name the video game you have wasted the most time playing. The Inside Out game on my phone

🕹🕹 Name your favorite video game. *swoons* RDR2

🔪 Do you have an interest in serial killers or do they just freak you out? Depends on the serial killer. I have more interest in Martinis and Murder than any serial killer in particular.

🦗 Do bugs give you the heebie-jeebies? They’re fine as long as they’re not on my face or body without consent

🎱 Confess the last wish you made on a magic 8 ball. I do not remember.

😑 Describe the most annoying thing ever. Willful ignorance.

☺ Describe the greatest thing ever. Falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

🏠 Growing up, how was your home life? Taken for granted

😜 Are you silly or serious? Silly, for the most part

🥩 Steaks: Well-done, medium-rare, or still mooing? Medium-medium

🍄 In your opinion, are mushrooms tasty little morsels or just a dirty fungus? Gross, unless they’re the fun kind mixed with sour candy

🥑 Best way to eat an avocado? Made into guac with lots of citrus and black pepper

⛪ Are you spiritual? In a way, I guess.

⛪🕌 If so, describe your beliefs. Make the world a better place, do what you can for the people who can’t do for themselves, and occasionally reach into chance and/or tarot cards for insight.

🍔 Burgers or dogs? Either, as long as I can have cheese on it.

😤 Describe something that gets under your skin. Looking stupid.

🧟‍♀️ Do you think the world will end in zombies? At this point, I wouldn’t be that surprised.

🐉 Is there a dragon you chase? Acceptance and legacy.

🥞 In your personal opinion, should food be free to everyone? Yes, because unlike Mitch McConnell I’m not a fucking monster.

🐍 What animal are you scared of, if any? Skunks, as stated above

Tagging @ibelieveinturtles @iamartemisday @dresupi @snailsarecute @wheresarizona @hollandeiram and anyone who wants to play <3

#tag game

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sophiaholmes221b · 4 years

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Sophia Holmes and the Blind Banker

Chapter Ten

The circus has always been a place of mystery to me as I've never visited one. I had expected a large Big Top with that cliché music, but then again, this is the centre of London and the circus isn't their main occupation.

We follow John and his girlfriend, Sarah up a slope towards a community hall, keeping to the shadows to avoid detection.

"It's years since anyone took me to the circus," Sarah tells John and he chuckles nervously in reply.

"Right, yes! Well, it's ... a friend recommended it to me," I raise an eyebrow, remembering our previous conversation on this topic. "He phoned up."

"Ah. What are they, a touring company or something?"

"I don't know much about it," he admits, pausing to look up at the numerous red Chinese lanterns that are strung up outside the hall, showing the first sign that this is anything but another cliché circus from the movies.

"I think they're probably from China!" Sarah jokes, looking up.

"Yes, I think ... I think so, yes," John says lamely. "There's a coincidence!"

Dad and I slip in behind them as they enter the box office, stopping before we turn the corner so we stay out of sight. I peer around the corner casually as the customer in front of John and Sarah receives her ticket, then turns and heads up the stairs to the side.

"The place looks practically empty," I notice, looking around.

"They've taken the precaution of small amounts of advertising. Enough for the show to be a plausible excuse or an alibi, but not busy enough to warrant any media attention which would mean their stay in this country is prolonged." Dad pauses to listen to John's conversation with the manager.

"And what's the name?" the manager questions as John slips his wallet from his jacket.

"Er, Holmes," John replies, and I spot the look of confusion pass over Sarah's face, but she stays quiet.

"Actually, I have four in that name," the manager announces after a moment of checking.

John frowns. "No, I don't think so. We only booked two."

"And then I phoned back and booked a couple more." John looks up in disbelief as dad turns into his line of sight, offering his hand out to Sarah. "I'm Sherlock. This is my daughter Sophia."

I give her a small, fake smile as she glances back at John for a moment, obviously nervous about our sudden arrival, but shakes our hands as John turns away in what I take to be exasperation.

"Er, hi," Sarah manages to get out.

"Hello," dad replies, also sending her his fake smile before instantly turning and walking away again to wait on the stairs for John.

"Erm," Sarah begins, looking at me nervously. "I just need to pop to the loos; I'll only be a minute."

John curses as she disappears behind the corner and he heads on a warpath to the stairs. "You couldn't let me have just one night off?" he hisses, keeping his voice low.

"Yellow Dragon Circus, in London for one day," dad argues. "It fits. The Tong sent an assassin to England ..."

"... dressed as a tightrope walker," John interrupts. "Come on, Sherlock, behave!"

"We're looking for a killer who can climb, who can shin up a rope," dad persists, voicing our theory. "Where else would you find that level of dexterity? Exit visas are scarce in China. They need a pretty good reason to get out of that country. Now, all I need to do is have a quick look round the place ..."

"Fine. You can do that with Sophie; I'm gonna take Sarah for a pint."

"I need your help," dad says sternly. Most normal people would feel offended by this, but there's something in the makeup of the Holmes' DNA that numbs us from criticism such as this.

"I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening!"

"Like what?"

John blinks, staring at dad in disbelief at his ignorance. "You are kidding."

"What's so important?" dad persists.

"Sherlock, I'm right in the middle of a date. D'you want me to chase some killer while I'm trying to ..." he breaks off, pondering on whether or not to continue.

"What?" dad persists.

"... While I'm trying to get off with Sarah!" John finalises, losing his temper and inevitably speaking much louder in his anger. Sarah appears beside John, looking as though she definitely heard the last bit. "Heyyy." John draws the word out as he turns to his date, smiling awkwardly.

Rolling my eyes, I follow dad up the stairs, leaving a suddenly eager Sarah behind with a bashful John. She's been fussing with her hair whilst she was in the toilets and has obviously touched up on her makeup as well which shows that she's very keen about her relationship with John, even though it won't last long.

John is used to a certain lifestyle of danger, which is why he signed up to the army and the reason why he is continuing to put up with us. A woman such as Sarah won't last long with John because her previous relationships have all been straightforward, as I could tell by her hand as we shook.

We're shown into a large hall as we reach the top of the stairs. Although the room includes a full-sized stage, the heavy curtains are drawn across it suggesting it won't be used tonight. Instead, we gather around a circle of candles - around nine meters in diameter - and stand in the absence of any chairs.

I take in the size of the hall with my back to the centre as John and Sarah arrange themselves beside each other and dad joins my side behind them, looking at the ceiling for any wires or something similar that could indicate if they were intending any acrobatics and, if so, whether there is a trick to it.

"You said circus," John mutters, talking over his shoulder and turning his head away from his date so she can't hear his conversation. "This is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is ..." he fades off, grimacing with distaste as he looks for a word to describe the setup, "... art."

"This is not their day job," dad reminds him as I pace, as naturally as I can, to take in any exit routes such as a fire escape or something similar. If there is, then they're hidden in the shadows in the back.

"No, sorry, I forgot," John whispers maliciously. "They're not a circus; they're a gang of international smugglers."

Dad ignores him as the performance begins. I stop pacing and join dad's side again, watching as a male in traditional Chinese costume beats out a tapping rhythm on a small hand drum. John looks over his shoulder at us with a look of incredulity at this unusual and traditional greeting and dad and I return his look with our eyebrows raised.

A woman dressed ornately in a classic red silk gown and heavily painted face walks towards the centre of the circle and stops, looking imperiously out at us before raising her hand in the air for the drummer to stop.

"Traditionally named 'the Opera Singer,'" dad mutters to me, and I nod in acknowledgement.

The Opera Singer begins to walk across the circle to a large, covered object, and she pulls back to reveal an antique crossbow positioned on a stand. Picking up a long, thick, wooden arrow decorated with white feathers from one end of the crossbow, and the sharpened point glistens in the candlelight, she shows it to us before fitting it into the crossbow. Beside me, dad looks on at the performance with a look of boredom and I wonder when he's had the chance to see this before.

Straightening up, The Opera Singer pulls a single white feather from her headdress and shows us that there is nothing considerably special about this small item. On the back of the crossbow is a small, metal cup and she drops the feather into it. Immediately, the arrow is released and whizzes across the room, and I whirl my head around as I follow its progress over the circle until it hits a large, painted board. The audience gasps at the arrow's sudden release, and Sarah turns to John, laughing and dramatically clutching at her heart.

I roll my eyes at this behaviour whilst around me; people begin to applaud as another character enters the ring, dressed in chainmail and an ornate head mask. He holds his arms out to the sides as two darkly clothed men come over and begin to attach heavy chains around him until he's almost unable to move. I recognise the act immediately as an escapology act - one which I haven't seen in a while. I'm not sure I want to watch it again after what happened last time.

The two men strap the character so that his hands are folded in front of him, and they begin to back him up against the board.

"Classic Chinese escapology act," dad announces to John and Sarah as the warrior is strapped to the board.

The couple to him. "Hmm?" John mutters questioningly.

"The crossbow's on a delicate string," dad explains as the men continue to tie the chains. "The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires."

We watch silently as The Opera Singer slips another arrow into the crossbow while the men attach yet more padlocks and chains to the warrior. One of the men pulls a chain tight, wrenching the warrior's head back against the board. The warrior cries out as the men maintain to loop the chains through steel rings attached to the board and begin to secure the warrior, who cries out again. A moment later, they seem to be satisfied with their prisoner's bonds, so they step away. The music builds up the intensity in the room, and some cymbals clap together unexpectedly, causing people around us to jump comically.

"Oh, Gawd! I'm sorry!" Sarah laughs, awkwardly, taking his arm with her other hand.

I take my eyes away from the 'happy couple' and put them back on the performance in front. The Opera Singer picks up a small knife and displays it to us.

"She splits the sandbag; the sand pours out; gradually the weight lowers into the bowl," dad explains softly so that just our small group can hear.

The Opera Singer does what dad had predicted and reaches up to a small sandbag that hangs from a cable above. The cable seems to be looped around some sort of a pulley, and as she slits the bottom of the sack I spot the metal weight which is attached to the other end. Sand begins to trickle out, unbalancing the two weights so that the sandbag lowers into the bowl.

The warrior cries out with effort and dad rolls his eyes at the acting and taps my arm pointedly, gesturing to the stage. I nod silently and we slip back into the shadows, heading towards to the stage door just as the sandbag levels with the weight.

The stage seems to be being used as the dressing room for the Chinese performers, as the area is equipped with everything from a dressing table with mirrors to free standing clothes rails.

I follow behind dad, twirling around to take in a full 360 of the space. In front of me, dad stops and I look over his shoulder to see what's made him tense up. It almost looks like another warrior is standing in the shadows, although I can see when I look down that the chainmail and mask are just hanging on a stand. Through the curtains, I hear the announcement of the next act as it breaks through the audience's applause.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the Opera Singer begins in the newly found silence, "from the distant moonlight shores of the Yangtze River, we present for your pleasure the deadly Chinese bird-spider."

I allow my eyebrows to rise slightly as I abandon my lookover of the room to peer through the curtains. As the Opera Singer walks off stage, a masked acrobat falls controllably from the ceiling, rolling as a thick red band around his waist unravels.

"Over here," I call softly to dad, not taking my eyes off of the acrobat as he removes the band form his waist and takes the two strips of material apart, wrapping them around his arms. Dad joins my side and looks out with interest as the acrobat lifts into the air, flying around in a circle a few feet off of the ground.

"Well, well," dad murmurs, softly.

"Our murderer," I state, just as quietly.

The stage door suddenly opens and I sprint over to a clothes rail to take cover as dad joins, spreading the clothes hiding us so we can watch The Opera Singer. She seems distressed and checks her mobile on one of the dressing tables.

I shift a hanger out of my line of sight to get a better view, but it falls to the floor with a clatter. I bite my lip, cursing my clumsiness, and duck down as The Opera Singer looks up sharply. We crouch down lower as she comes towards us, but I let out a steady stream of air as she leaves.

Shifting into a more comfortable position, my foot collides with a bag and several tins hit together. Dad looks down and flips the bag open, revealing the collection of spray cans. He picks two up and I see the Michigan label as he tosses one over towards me. I catch it easily.

"Found you," dad sings softly. "Take this to Raz, ask him whether it's the same as the one we saw, then take it to Bart's. I don't think we'll need to be here much longer."

I nod and fall back into the shadows, making my way back towards the stage door to the side, stuffing the newly acclaimed spray paint into my black bag.

As I leave the hall, keeping to the shadows to avoid detection from anyone who happens to be watching, I allow my mind to wander. Perhaps dad didn't want me there because of my clumsy previous actions. I nearly got us caught.

I follow the path down onto the main road and stand to the side, waiting for the next cab to come along. Mycroft once told me to avoid taking the first cab that comes your way, as it could be a trap. I've never really thought about it much and put it down to the paranoia our family seems to suffer from. Perhaps we're being too cautious - after all, the cabbie who murdered the Pink Lady didn't target her specifically. Even so, I let the first couple of cabs pass, then signal the third, ensuring I follow through the paranoia with a check of the cabbie.

"St Bart's, please," I say, and sit back in my seat.

"Visiting someone?" he questions and I frown in annoyance; I don't like cabbies who pry.

"Er, yeah, something like that," I pull out my phone, signalling the end of our conversation. He gets the hint and leaves me alone.

I send a quick text to Raz to meet me at Barts, then scroll through John's website. Already - and despite his terrible eye for detail - he seems to be gaining followers.

"We're here, love," says the cabbie, drawing up outside the hospital and I look up.

"Right, thanks," I reply, stepping out and handing him a lump of cash.

I wait outside for a moment, waiting for the taxi to disappear before I cross over to a group of garages for the ambulances. A figure steps out from behind one of the bins and comes up behind me.

I smile and turn. "Here, catch."

Raz reaches and catches the spray can and holds it up to a nearby street lamp. "Same brand, definitely." He turns around, taking the lid off and spraying a long, yellow line across the wall. "Yep, identical to the pictures you guys showed me."

He tosses the can back to me. "Thanks. See you around," I say, heading back towards the hospital.

"Wait," he calls, and I spin around. "Good luck." I frown, spinning around as he sends me a cocky grin. I shake my head as I cross back over to the hospital.

***

Molly is inside when I reach my preferred lab and smiles warmly.

"Oh hi, wasn't expecting you here," Molly says, shifting some of her things to the side. "How's that case going, that graffiti one?"

I show her the can and move over to one of the microscopes. "Er, yeah, we're getting closer," I admit, spraying some of the paint into a petri dish and sliding it under the lens. "There's a code we need to crack - a message - but we can't find the book which goes with it."

Molly freezes, turning to look at me with amusement. "You can't crack the code? You?"

She laughs, and I frown, lifting my head from the lens. "That's what I said. I need the book, but it could be anything." I sigh, annoyed.

Molly tries to make further conversation, but after a few minutes of silence on my part, leaves me to my work.

I identify a high amount of Hydrofluorocarbons, and pull out a couple of the images taken by the train tracks. It all seems to match. An idea crosses my mind and I flick the switch off on the wall. Molly looks up, concerned probably, for my sanity but I flick it up again to the UV setting.

I lie the pictures beneath the microscope and inspect the pictures once more. As I thought, the words are being painted over with a type of invisible ink, most likely lemon juice, going by the strength in colour. Even now, I can see it's going to be pointless trying to get the message from the printouts. The only way I can be sure to translate it is to go to the place where the graffiti is. I need to find some more.

Picking up my stuff and picking up a portable UV torch, I leave the room, swinging my coat back on and being thoughtful enough to switch the lights back on. Where else is there likely to be any more graffiti than before? A place where the Tong are meant to be meeting? I smile to myself and hail a cab, ordering it to take me back to the hall.

The Tong who were brought over would have all been smuggled out as part of the circus. For a while, they would be able to spread out across London. On the night of their act, however, they would need a way of knowing where they were to be performing. The most likely outcome is that the message was sprayed on the back of the hall, somewhere dark enough so that people would just walk past it and not even realise it was there.

I hop out of the cab and sprint around the back of the building. The music inside has stopped, allowing me to assume that the show has finished. All I have to hope now is that they didn't remove this message as well.

The performances advertised on the back of the hall are all dated for this week which suggests the posters were put up around the beginning of the week. However, the papers are in a much worse condition than they ought to be.

I look closer at the ripped parts and pull back the bits which are sticking on the wall from the rain. To my success, I find another message written across the wall, as fresh as these posters yet preserved from any weather damage. I slide the torch from my pocket and shine the light upon the message. Whether it was their intention or not, they've left it in almost complete darkness, a perfect conditions for UV usage.

"Gotcha," I mutter softly, taking a picture of the wall without the flash, the UV light illuminating the photo. Just in case, I open up a new page on my notebook and write down the phrase revealed.

Wzyozy L K

It makes no sense to me now, but with some work, I'm sure I'll be able to find out what this means.

No more than five minutes after I leave the darkened alleyway behind the hall, I receive a text message.

Meet us at Scotland Yard

I tuck my phone back into my bag and pull my coat tighter as the winter wind bites at my exposed skin. How those girls from school survive when they go out for the night in skimpy dresses and fifty-inch heels, I'll never understand.

Looking back through the message in my mind, I try to look for clues at what sort of mood dad's in. The length of the message would suggest he's rushed or annoyed, and the fact he wants me to meet him at the Yard is making me think it's closer to annoyance. The police haven't been able to pin down the Tong.

I hail another cab as I reach the main road and step in, feeding the driver the address as I buckle myself in. He raises a brow at my destination but drives off anyway.

We pass several police cars heading towards the hall, but I know they won't be able to find anything. These smugglers are professionals: they're strong and cunning and several steps ahead of us. They could be halfway back to China by now, although I doubt it. They'll want to stick around until they get their lost treasure back.

I catch up with dad, John and that Sally woman as they scuttle quickly after a rather angry-looking Dimmock. It seems the squad sent out have found nothing they can use to pin down the smuggling group, as I suspected.

Sidling past Susan to get beside dad, I notice dad and John's jackets are both fairly rumpled - as if they've been in some sort of physical fight. From the way they're holding themselves and talking quietly between them, it seems unlikely the fight was between them. The Chinese smugglers must have caught up to them. A thick coat of dusty sand granules covers the back of dad's jacket. Coupled with his shallow breathing, I would say he was pushed backwards and fell from a reasonable height - most likely the stage back at the hall, winding himself. As John seems to have got involved, this clearly happened during the performance, probably not long after I left.

Dimmock storms into his office and we follow him towards his desk. "I sent a couple of cars. The old hall is totally deserted."

"They were barely going to hang around to be caught, were they?" I retort, with equal poison.

"Look, I saw the mark at the circus – that tattoo that we saw on the two bodies: the mark of the Tong," dad explains, intervening as Dimmock reaches his desk, turning around to face us.

"Lukis and Van Coon were part of a-a smuggling operation," John begins, reciting what we all already know. "Now, one of them stole something when they were in China; something valuable."

"These circus performers were gang members sent here to get it back," dad continues.

"Get what back?" Dimmock quizzes and dad looks away, biting his lip angrily.

"We don't know," John admits, hesitantly.

"You don't know," Dimmock repeats in obvious annoyance and dad is still avoiding eye contact. "Mr. Holmes ..." Dimmock begins. "I've done everything you two have asked. Lestrade, he seems to think your advice is worth something." Beside me, dad raises his head and I notice a small, proud smile creeping onto his face. "I gave the order for a raid. Please tell me I'll have something to show for it – other than a massive bill for overtime."

"We've learnt a lot," I say, pulling out the new pictures I've taken. I went looking for more evidence after it was confirmed that the paint in this tin-" I show him the can from my bag, "is the same as the ones on the walls around London. There's another message within the codes: one only visible to UV light."

Everyone looks stunned as I finish, and Dimmock takes my phone for a closer look. "Wzyozy L K?" he reads, before passing it on. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Probably a code, most likely a code telling the minor Tong members which book to use to find the message," I state, piecing together a theory which has been hanging in loose threads in my mind.

"What code is it though?" John questions, looking past dad at me.

"Could be anything," I admit.

"Then narrow it down," dad urges.

"We can rule out book code and pig-pen cyphers for a start, along with the hangman's dance and Morse because we wouldn't be using letters."

"Great, so we know what it isn't," Dimmock sighs, annoyed. "Any idea what it actually is? Could it be, I dunno, an anagram?"

"No, the longest word you can make from this is five letters long," I point out, "and you'd need to use all of the letters for it to work. I think I could narrow it down to around three types."

Dad nods thoughtfully, catching on. Code has never been his forte, but mine, which is why he's taking a backseat now.

"Well, you better get to it now, then. Call me when you've cracked it."

***

"There's no point cracking it now, though, is there?" John says as we arrive back at Baker Street, and I sit down at the table, immediately beginning work on the code. "They'll be back in China by tomorrow."

"No, they won't leave without what they came for," dad argues as I rule out the Transposition and ROT1 cyphers. "We need to find their hide-out; the rendezvous. Somewhere in this message it 'must' tell us."

I nod my agreement and start making a DIY Caeser Shift Wheel.

"Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it," Sandra says suddenly, out of the blue.

I'd forgotten she was there.

"No, no, you don't have to go ... " John begins looking around at dad. " ... does she? You can stay."

"Yes, it would be better to study if you left now," dad says simultaneously.

John throws a dark look at him before turning back to her. "He's kidding," he says, wearily. "Please stay if you'd like."

Sapphire looks nervously towards dad, who's already turned back to the photos. "Is it just me, or is anyone else starving?"

"Ooh, God," dad sighs in exasperation.

Oh, the simplistic needs of the average human being. I, personally, haven't eaten the fight over the Jaria Diamond a couple of days before. It seems so long ago.

John looks around at Sarah in surprise, having also forgotten about eating. Meals are so infrequent in the Holmes household that I think he's just learnt to ignore the hunger. Either way, he walks towards the fridge; obviously trying to impress whatever her name is with his below mediocre cooking.

I attempt at the G cypher now, replacing the letters to get me to: Cfeufe R Q, which means nothing to me.

Dad joins me at the dining table, but leaves me to work on the code. He knows I work better alone, so instead takes out several pieces of paper, rummaging through them for reference or just to help me.

John's girlfriend walks idly over to the mirror, looking over the pictures pinned to it with little interest as we work.

"So this is what you do, you and John," she says. "You solve puzzles for a living."

"Consulting Detective," dad replies tetchily, not looking around.

"Oh," Sally says.

I ignore her and try the 'I' cypher, but find just another senseless answer: Orqgrq D C. Only seventeen more solutions to go through!

"Is that supposed to say 'Orange'?" Sadie asks stupidly, appearing over my shoulder and taking a look at my notes. I have to refrain from hurting her.

"No," I smile, a fake, sweet smile. "It's supposed to say 'Orqgrq D C'."

"Hmm," Sandra replies, sceptically, and walks over to annoy dad instead, looking over his shoulder at the paper. "What are these squiggles?"

I peer over to see dads' expression on this and watch as he looks up, his face set in the same way as I was feeling.

"They're numbers. An ancient Chinese dialect," he explains, trying to remain calm when the level of idiocy is clouding everything else.

"Oh, right!" she exclaims, sarcastically. "Yeah, well, of course I should have known that!"

I hear the door the kitchen squeak open behind me as the familiar footsteps of Mrs Hudson enter, up to help John out with his rather rubbish date, no doubt.

I keep working on the code, trying rotation after rotation. I slot in the next few letters, getting, I can feel it, ever closer to the answer. I'm on the K cypher now, and I know I'm close. Beside me, Sarah picks up the evidence bag containing the picture that Dimmock gave to us on the night I got arrested, and I tense up in utter annoyance, distracting myself from the code for a moment.

"So these numbers – it's a cypher," Sarah states, looking closely at the picture and completely oblivious to the looks both me and dad are giving her.

"Exactly," dad replies tightly as I put my head back down.

"And each pair of numbers is a word."

I frown, looking up again in surprise as I turn to face Sarah. Dad mirrors me. "How did you know that?"

"Well, two words have already been translated, here." She puts the picture down on the desk and I stand up, moving over to a place where I can see it as she points. Dad takes it from her and I notice now the small inscriptions. Soo Lin had started translating it, after we'd all gone off.

"John," dad calls, calmly.

"Mmm?" he replies, looking around from the kitchen table as dad stands up.

"John, look at this." Dad slips the picture carefully from the evidence bag as John comes over. "Soo Lin at the museum – she started to translate the code for us. We didn't see it! 'NINE' 'MILL'."

I look over the picture again, this time making out the wording.

"Does that mean 'millions'?" John questions, squinting at the photo.

"Nine million quid," dad says, thoughtfully. "For what?"

"That tiara, on the auctions the other day," I recall. "Sold for just less than eight million pounds. Maybe it's another in the collection."

"That's quite likely," dad says, going over to where he's left his coat and scarf. "But we still need to know the end of this sentence."

"Where are you going?" John demands as dad shrugs his coat on.

"To the museum; to the restoration room." He grimaces in exasperation at himself. "Oh, we must have been staring right at it!"

To think we were hiding out in the very same room as the key to this mystery is insane. How did we not notice it?

"At-at what?" John questions, still at a lost.

"The book, John. The book – the key to cracking the cypher!" He flips the photo up at John pointedly. "Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must be on her desk. Sophie, keep working on the code, text me when you find something."

I sit back down in my seat as he disappears, making the most of the current surprised silence to get back into the frame of mind. The K cypher translates as 'Mpoepo B A', which means nothing to me, and I cross-check it online. Nothing.

In the kitchen, I half-listen into John and Sarah's conversation as my brain nags at me that there's something I'm missing. I hear them decide on ordering a Chinese as it clicks. I write down my theory hastily, sliding the letters along once to reach the L rotation. I write the alphabet down the side of my notebook, wanting to get this right. As I reach Z, I start back up at the top, writing it out again, but with the letter L beside the A. I write down the answer as I go.

"L-O-N-D-O-N," I say out loud and smile as it makes sense. I think I can predict the next two letters, but I look for them anyway. "A-Z!" I gasp in excitement as I look up at the couple in the kitchen. "John! I've found it!"

All the pieces fly together now as if I've uncovered a massive magnet which is drawing together all of my loose threads to create an answer.

I remember seeing the London A-Z taking the top spot on one of Lukis' many piles of messy books, clearly left there from when he hastily decoded his doom. I remember seeing the same book on Van Coon's coffee table, near the wall, third book down. Back in the museum, on Soo Lin's desk, was a copy of the London A-Z. We'd looked at it, ironically whilst we were passing the time, trying to work out a pattern between the murders.

"'A book which everyone would own!'" I quote excitedly, heading over to one of the crate and beginning to take out handfuls of books. "It fits John!"

John and Sarah help me to unload the crates we haven't been through, and I take out the A-Z and start flicking through it to decode the threats made to Van Coon and Lukis.

"I'll text Sherlock, keep looking!" John calls, heading back into the kitchen for his phone.

Page fifteen, entry one... I flick to the correct page and take out one of the pictures of the wall in Shad's office. The warning for both men. The first entry reads:

"Deadmans Lane NW9!"

John raises his head from his phone. "What?"

"The message in Shad and the library, it was a threat: deadman. It explains why Van Coon had his gun and why both places were locked.."

John nods thoughtfully. "Can you translate the rest?"

I return the nod and take another print out of the brick wall from the pile, writing down the two words which were already translated. I flick through to page thirty-seven and slide my finger down across the page until I find entry nine.

Fore St EC2. I shorten it down to 'for' and write it down beside the Hangzhou numbers correlating it.

Sixty, thirty-five is the next code, so I follow its instructions, bringing me to Jade Cl. E16. Jade. Jade what, though? Was I right that it's part of the tiara collection?

I translate the rest of the words easily, now in the flow of finding the right pages. I translate the last word and write it down on the paper, looking at the message its entirety.

Nine mill for jade pin. Dragon den black tramway.

Black tramway? Where's that?

"Soph, I've ordered you some curry, would you like us to put it back for later?" John asks, sticking his head around the kitchen door as I reach for one of our maps.

"Er, yeah, whatever you say," I reply, not listening as I search for the tramway.

The doorbell rings downstairs signalling the arrival of our dinner and John heads downstairs. Something about this bugs me. It couldn't have been more than five minutes since John ordered our meal, yet here is the delivery man.

"Oh, god!" I mutter quietly and reach over to unlock the safe where we keep our spare guns.

John's girlfriend screams from behind me and I turn to see a man dropping a limp Sarah to the ground. He's around the same height as the attacker who drugged me in Soo Lin's flat, but he's still covered in a mass of black cloth so it's hard to tell.

He rounds on me and I breathe deeply, my heart beating fast. I position myself in an defensive stance, hiding my gun until I need it. 'Never display your most valued weapon to your enemy, as they can use it against you,' as Mycroft said once. I think he may have been talking about words or connections, but in this circumstance, I'm happy to go with guns.

If the assassin is keeping Sarah alive, then it's likely that he's using us as hostages to get at dad, and I won't let that happen without a fight.

The man laughs and copies my stance, and I feel the rush of adrenaline course through my veins. This man has been trained in the martial arts since he was four years old, and has been practising every year after. Me ... well, I started when I was eight, so I think my chances are limited if we think about it realistically.

I bow respectfully to him and he begrudgingly returns it, before coming up and beginning the fight. He charges at me, reaching me in seconds, his head bent low to push into my stomach. I bring my leg up to kick him away, but he grasps my foot and twists it around, pushing me backwards.

Losing my balance, I fall into the arms of another assassin who had crept up behind me and I struggle relentlessly against my bonds as they tie me up and bundle me out of the apartment of 221B.

#sophiaholmes #bbbcsherlock #sherlock #blindbanker #blind banker #benedictcumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch #cumbercollective #sherlock'sdaughter #parent!lock

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thecursedvaultchild · 5 years

Text

The Cursed Trio: Adult Snippets

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Whitecross.”

“I disagree, Charn.”

She looked over at him. Ethren certainly was not the same boy she remembered and things changed every time she saw the renowned Curse-Breaker. He was dressed in a trenchcoat like she was, but his was more obviously wizardly with its rugged texture and dark red color. Had he…was that dragon skin? Hadn’t he grown up in the Muggle world? Her black coat was at least an attempt to better blend in. He had new scars, one cut across his chin, adding to his roguish appearance. Came with the job she supposed. Brown hair was ruffled and limp. He must have just returned from his latest venture if he came to see her without his hair even washed. His eyes were darker than the last time she saw him. They always got darker. She thought breaking the curse would finally brighten his eyes.

“It’d be easier to talk in the comfort of a sitting room than on a platform in King’s Cross bustling with Muggles.”

“Exactly why no one would look for us here.”

She sighed, finally facing him. With a flick of her wrist and wand, anyone nearby would only hear a buzzing noise. “If you have something to say, say it. I need to get to the Ministry soon.”

He snorted. “This is why I’m independent.”

“And reckless.” Her eyes traced the scars. “Now what is this about?”

Finally, his blue eyes met hers. “Things are getting worse.”

“You made me come all this way to tell me that?”

“You’re in the thick of the Ministry, caught up in chasing shadows. You aren’t seeing things on the fringes like I am. More people vanishing. More whispers behind closed doors. More darkness spreading. I never thought there’d be more danger outside of the curses I face. But here we are.”

“We’re working on it. There’s an air of fear sweeping across the country. Even the Muggles can feel it.”

“Yes, fear. Fear one may not even know their own friends.” His gaze narrowed and glanced at her left arm.

“Are you implying something, Whitecross?” Her voice was a snake-like hiss.

He roughly grabbed her shoulder. “I need to be sure, Charn.”

“How dare you.” Glaring, she yanked her left sleeve up. Nothing. “You think I’d do that?” She shoved him off her.

He merely narrowed his eyes further, letting go of her. “Anything is possible these dark days. I seem to recall you dabbling in the Dark Arts in our school curse-breaking.”

“I’m an Auror now, or have you forgotten? I hunt Dark wizards, I’m not one of them. I know where I stand. And how’s dear old Merula?“

He stiffened.

“You remember. Merula Snyde, your old Hogwarts sweetheart? She’s on our radar, Ethren. And if she is a Death Eater… I’ll have to bring her in.”

“I know.” His voice was soft.

“And you know what I’ll have to do if you get in my way.”

His lip curled faintly. “You became more arrogant when you joined the Ministry.”

“And you ironically became more unstable once your curse was broken. For your sake, I hope you find Snyde before I do.”

“I do too. We’ll see what happens.”

"I have to go. Talbott is waiting for me. I’ll see you at the next Order meeting.” She paused, looking over her shoulder. “Or some time you could come over for tea? We’d like that.”

And he vanished from her sight as she slipped into the bustling throng.

—

He dusted the ash off his robes as he stepped out of the fireplace. So much to do, so little time. There were dead to speak to.

He strode through the Atrium. Passing the fountain, a familiar silver-haired figure was deep in discussion with a pink-haired individual. The former looked up as he approached. The troubled expression was replaced with a smile and a wave.

“Morning—”

“Can’t talk. Unspeakable.”

“Oi! We can still talk about things other than work!”

But Skylar ignored her as he went on his way. And he ignored the displeasure crossing her face. He had more important things to deal with than his old schoolmate.

The man stepped onto a lift stuffed with people. He hardly even noticed the glances he got. He was used to glances. For his hair, for his reputation at school, for his job. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, so why should he care? Let them look. Anyway, the passengers trickled down as they went down until he was the sole occupant.

The cool female voice announced, “Department of Mysteries.” He walked out and through the dark door keeping secrets in and intruders out.

A vague nod to any of his fellow Unspeakables was all he needed as he headed into a tall room filled with shelves upon shelves of glowing orbs. Prophecies. Despite never taking Divination at Hogwarts, his mother had taught him a lot. Curious thing the future was. And here every prophecy was recorded and stored. They were real, all right, but the question was would it come true?

The place was perfectly mapped out in his mind and he didn’t even think about where he was going until he stopped. Right in front of an empty shelf. Nearly anyway. Seems the Keeper of the Hall had already labeled them.

Skylar was about to move on when something caught his eye. A different shelf. Behind the empty one. He moved over to it. Feeling almost…drawn to it. A scribble on a crumpled label stuck next to a dusty ball in the back of the shelf. His stomach dropped as he read it.

E.S.T. to A.P.W.B.D. The Cursed Vaults Summer Charn, Skylar Morningstar, and Ethren Whitecross

Without a word, he pocketed it and got to work as if nothing had happened.

—

“Hello, shorty.”

“Just try me once, Morningst–”

“You don’t want to cross me.”

There was a pause. “That’s my line.”

“Well, beat you to it.”

The brunet man slowly pulled back. “What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“Be my guest.”

“Not here. Tomorrow night. You and Summer.”

“I saw her this morning.”

“Well you’ll see her again outside off an Order meeting.”

“Where will we meet?”

“Meet me outside of the Leaky Cauldron at 8. We’ll Side-Along Apparate to where I want to speak.” He lowered his voice. “Where there’s no prying eyes and ears.”

“Okay. See you then, Sky.”

“Farewell, Ethren.”

—

It was night with no moon on a deserted street in England. There was a mist in the air, obscuring and muffling the faint pop! ending the silence on the street. Three silhouettes emerged from the mist as they trekked through the faint light against the darkness. They kept close together. The first of the three had eyes straight ahead, striding forward and leading the way with confidence. The second glanced from side to side with an air of wariness. The last seemed the most concerned of the three, what with the constant turning to look behind, something gripped tightly in their hand. The last two stumbled into the first as the first entered a yard and stopped outside the door. No hand reached for the handle as it swung open and they all swiftly crossed the threshold. The last paused once more, eyes roving across the poorly lit street, before closing the door shut.

A word was muttered and a fire sprung up in the grate. Now at last in the light, one could properly see all of them. The first of them was a tall man. His hair was black though oddly streaked with premature gray. He was removing gloves and a fine coat, revealing the far more casual and rumpled clothes underneath. He was easily the most relaxed, revealing he likely abides in this house. His serious green eyes roved over to his companions who were similarly removing their outerwear now that they had entered the safe warmth.

The second was also a man but with blue eyes dark and copper hair falling in front of them. He shrugged out of a coat rough and scaly, made from something not of the mundane world. His dark brows were furrowed. Scars cut across his face and hands, now made obvious by the firelight.

The third, most noticeably, had shockingly silver hair with loose strands curling around her face. Her eyes were neither blue nor green but a mixture of the two. Unlike the others, she did not remove her coat. Instead, she was perched on the sofa with her arms crossed and fiddling with a curious stick in her hands. A shifting of weight caused dust to stir around her. The two men sneezed.

“Summer! You couldn’t have gotten rid of the cat hair?” The second’s blue eyes were watering.

“Nah, she couldn’t have. You have how many cats now?” The first’s voice now sounded stuffed but genuinely interested.

“Only two,” the one called Summer replied. “But ever since I became an Animagus, I’ve never been able to fully rid myself of cat hair. It clings to everything.”

“You couldn’t have chosen another form.” The second carefully sat on the edge of the sofa, as far away from the woman as he could. She rolled her eyes, not bothering to respond.

“Thank you for coming. Ethren, Summer.” The two nodded. “This isn’t Order business but it’s important.”

“Well, Sky, tell us what is so important we had to scurry like rats to your house.”

The tall man looked around even though no one else was there. Nothing but the three of them in the firelit room with mist swirling in the darkness outside. “This.” He pulled out a glowing glass orb containing a twisting white substance. Ethren frowned. Summer stood up until she too was illuminated brightly by it.

“What is it?” Her voice was hushed.

“It’s a prophecy. About us.”

“If it’s those Cursed Vaults again—” Ethren sounded bored and tired.

“It is, actually.”

Summer bit her lip. “But we’re done with those. We broke the curses.”

“Yes, but regardless, this may give us further insight on our future. Only one way to find out.” And Skylar smashed it on the ground.

A female figure, pearly white as a ghost, fluid as smoke, unfurled from the shattered glass. The voice, hardened and resonating, filled the room.

“Darkness is coming… The Cursed Vaults will be opened again by insiders and outsiders… and with it will come three: one a lion, one an eagle, one a snake… shadows and caster of shadows, cursed and breaker of curses…the foe shall stop and the curse shall brake… darkness is coming… ”

The words hung in the air as the figure dissipated.

“Cheery, isn’t it?”

“Oh, shut up, Charn.”

“You shut it, Whitecross, you are a herald of doom and gloom these days. Besides, we’ve already completed this prophecy. Right, Skylar?” She looked to him, eyes searching for assurance.

His eyes were sparkling with excitement. “I don’t know.”

Ethren and Summer shared a glance.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“This is your realm of expertise, Unspeakable.”

“I mean what I said. I don’t know. Prophecies can have multiple meanings.”

“We broke the Cursed Vaults!”

“You’ve said that, Summer, calm down. But yeah, and I broke the curse on my life.”

Skylar’s gaze was cool. “Are we ever free of curses?”

Silence.

He pressed. “Are we?”

Neither answered. He chuckled. That was answer enough for him.

—

Fin

#hogwarts mystery #jacob's sibling #cursedtrioau #thecursedtrio #hphm mc #hphm mc adult #ministry of magic #auror #unspeakable #curse breaker #fanfic #harry potter #merula snyde #talbott winger #tonks #nymphadora tonks

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arkus-rhapsode · 6 years

Text

Eden’s Zero Chapter 1 Review

Hey guys, now before I dive into this already longer than usual review, I did wanna take this time to mention something. Its been no secret that I turned on Mashima and FT pretty hardly after the end of FT and some of you may be aware that I was moderately active in the fanbase with putting out my reviews and such. That said some may liken that shift in mentality to me not liking how the story went and a common critique of fans is that when what they’re fans of doesn’t gel with what they want they wanna destroy it. As if the fan has ownership of the source of the fanaticism.

I admit there are times that I’ve question decisions on Hiro Mashima’s end and has posted rewrites, but that’s not me doing it out of a sense of ownership. I’m doing it because I have a standard. Being a fan of something and letting your disappointment get to you and fester into salty, bitchy purest is one thing, but being a person who’s judging what a series puts out and actually caring about the quality of what’s in the popular media is important. FT got negative reviews in its latter half because it was that bad. By the end of the series it was legit that bad. Now I don’t say that is someone who was in the fanbase and hated Hiro’s decisions cause they weren’t mine, I hated them because it was bad writing. I’m a reader with standards, as are all of you, and in the digestion of media we make distinctions between good and bad. I make this claim with more concrete surety now that I’ve been around longer and have reviewed more series than just FT, I think it be harder to believe if I made this case when I was just starting and all I was talking about at the time was FT.

Some of you might remember when I first started out on MHA, my second chapter I ever reviewed I had found it boring and mundane and to date its my least popular MHA review and I still stand by that assertion. I hold everything to the same standard, and that includes FT. The reason I write this is that while throughout this review I will mention comparison’s to FT’s first chapter (and yes, even ways Eden’s Zero improved on it), but I will be holding it to the same standard. So this entire review won’t be me holding a grudge against Hiro, but it will be me holding it to the same standard as I do everything I read. That out of the way lets dive in.

We open on a hill side and met our MC named Shiki. Beside him is the mecha demon from the cover page and what they see is a... dragon. Yeah, Hiro I thought you wanted this to be wholely original?

On the hand I actually like this scene in the sense robo demon here is actually encourging actual adventure (something FT lacked) and its kinda amazing listening to this demon looking guy talking about friendship, yet on the other hand, damnit Hiro. Is this the only thing how to write about? Like damn man.

We cut to the future where we see our main female Lucy-I mean Rebecca! Y’know I could make a Rebecca from One Piece joke, but she’s kinda already a bit of a decisivee figure so I’m not gonna bother.

I mean its okay. Its just castle theme park. Also Rebecca we find out is apparently a youtuber. Look if DBS can have GodTube then I can put up with Blue Cate (Aoneko) website. Also yeah Happy here, no sugar coating its just Happy. Also Rebecca here purposely made her skirt short. Just because you point out the sexualization in canon doesn’t make it better, ya still drew it, Hiro.

We see that the theme park is full of robots and each one acts as an assist in sending the guest through some kind of medieval simulator. And if anyone has seen Westworld you know where this is heading. To be fair I love worldbuilding so please, explore!

So we find out Rebecca’s dream is to have one million suscribers and now here’s where I gotta give props to Hiro because he actual made a dream for a character that doesn’t seem like it can be achieved a chapter from now. Granted this seems a bit hard to actually quantify, but this dream could potenially evolve into something of why she wants the suscribers and could be like Nami making the map of the world that getting video of unknown locations may actually be worth something to the general population.

We see that Rebecca chooses to go on a monster hunting quest and they encounter...

...This thing. Also it seems Rebecca’s character quirk is she really likes cats I guess? But this doesn’t last long as someone crashes down on mecha cat.

Okay that was kinda funny. I mean if this was FT would’ve actually gotten the panty shot so maybe Hiro has learned his lesson! Also note that wrench!

Oh god damnit Hiro. So this tarzan guy after acting like an animal is knocked out by Rebecca. Y’know it took about 60 chapters before Natsu got all up in Lucy’s chest, guess we’re cutting straight to the chase here.

Okay is joke with here just going be about here short skirt? Damning it with faint praise here, but at least he still hven’t flashed us them yet. Also Tarzan here is the only human on the island.

We get some scenes of Shiki here wanting to be friends with Rebecca cause she’s a human and Rebecca isn’t interested and she returns to the Granbell town where Shiki is there and the robots know who he is.

Shiki’s expressions and creepy advances really gives off this tinge of sci-fi horror, unfortunate Hiro doesn’t really go that route and we’ll get to it. Also that wizard looking robot from the color page is also here.

They then have a party where the robots all celebrate them having a costumer for the first time in so long they have a party being nice to Rebecca and lavishing her with stuff outside is robot that looks like Robin Hood and he reports to his boss this machine king.

Oh look, Hades if he was a robot.

We see Shiki trying to bond with Rebecca and it leads to him expressing he wants to leave the kingdom and see another country, but we also learn he’s in charge of fixing this and the robots are acting up lately. We find out that the one who was talking to Shiki and is his “Grandfather” was called the Demon King a robot designed for playing that role in the park.

Umm Rebecca... That’s being a dick. So you don’t like it, so you decide to cut it, cause it bothers you. You could’ve framed it like, “If he fixes you up then maybe he needs better vision” or “He’s been so nice to me, let me do something for him.” And what makes this worse s that Shiki is asleep, so she doesn’t even consult his feelings. Like seriously, that’s not being a good friend . But for contrivances sake I’m sure Shiki will wake up and love it, won’t he?

Huh? I was wrong instead we got shitty 80s comedy. I don’t know if that’s better or worse.

Y’know I said I’d give Hiro atleast two free fanservice moments for his first 3 chapters. He’s now used all of them up in a single chapter. Also Rebecca is tied to a stake while robots with torches surround her along with the machine king.

Shiki is also there and here’s something that did remind me of rave, the tightness of the first chapter. Everything seems to flow like one continuous story and doesn’t seem to do some dumb interlude like FTs first chapter did with that awkward moment where Lucy leaves Natsu and she’s just randomly in the park reading.

The King wants to use her ship to leave this world and we get som kind of motivation out of him.

Oh wow, for a first chapter villain that’s actually a really deep thing to unload. That as amusment park hosts they must’ve just been seen as pleasure tools and with no one around these robots who seem to be senstinent must’ve felt betrayed and...

Oooooor you cut out all moral ambiguity by just saying they have a virus. Sure. Trust me, this is where it gets stupid really stupid. And that’s the inconsistency.

So these robots I guess are like the ones from the Animatrix where they just kinda develop sentience out of nowhere. But unlike Animatrix it doesn’t seem to imply when they developed this sentience and that they began to think they were being abused.

Tired of Friendship already, it ain’t leaving.

So why do you hate humans? They abandoned you I guess, but there’s not other robot saying “hey our times were fun together” no everyone is like they left us to rot so we hate them. Not like Humans did anything legitimate bad. We actually see that at the end of the chapter that there is some sort of central battery on the park that all robots are hooked up to. You could make their reason for hating humans that. That even though they left these sentiment robots still had a little kingdom to themselves, but realized that its all just going to end one day and humans didn’t even bother to unplug them. They’re existence is literally knowing when they’ll die, imagine that as why they harbor negative emotions and maybe Shiki actually fixing things might’ve actually been prolonging their lives so maybe that be why they kept him around. This whole sentience things just feels like Hiro wanted to do a trope of crazy robots and ended using multiple to fit the whatever story purpose at the moment.

You do run the planet, dumbasses. This entire plane, apparently for hundreds of years, has been solely controlled by you. Maye this should be rephrased as, going to the place that built you to get revenge or as I spoiled with the battery we’ll take the ship to get more power for our kingdom?

Shiki doesn’t do anything and kinda lets the robots just wail on him as he found out all things in his life were a lie. Then Rebecca gives a friendship speech. A stupid stupid friendship speech.

You’re right, Rebecca! Too bad we didn’t see that. I’m serious we barely see memories of Shiki with any robot outside of the demon king and Michael so there’s no weight to this conflict. We only get the vague sense they raised hm, but there’s no moments of Shiki really laughingg and enjoying their company outside of the party with Rebecca which rather is made more for getting Shiki to like Rebecca for this moment.

Shiki remembers what his Grandpa the Demon King said and just blows them all away.

We see Shiki’s hand and apparently he has these marks indicating he has Ether gear. The power system of this series.

You’re sentiment! You have out grown your programming! You can choose to have a concept of friendship.

So they fight with shitty action scenes (If I can give Horikoshi a hard time for how he draws his fight choreography, then I sure as hell will give Hiro the once over.) Happy manages to save Rebecca and like Happy from early FT, he basically spots off exposition on powers.

So is it like a literal gear? Because Happy afterward destincties as the Gear of Gravity, so is it like a devil fruit? Is ether in all humans, but this specific gear brings it out in a certain way? If its internal then I guess its like the magic circuits from Fate? And then every of has their own unique variation like Nen? Like cause Happy gives it the distinction of Gravity it doesn’t seem like Shiki gives a reason why he has this power. I’m hoping \its like devil fruits, literal gears you implant and then it brings out your ether in a certain way.

Shiki punches out the machine king and cause a massive collapse.

Credit where credit is due, Hiro actually did build up the reveal of this power throughout the chapter and its actually really well done. Kinda reminds of something Oda would do with subtly building up a devil fruit power without revealing it. Like Crocodile drying out a flower but it isn’t stated his power is specifically sand.

They then flee when the other robots rally and Shiki takes Rebecca back to her ship.

This scene would actually be really nice if we actually saw more young shiki actually having fun with the machines and not a being a creeper with them.

Shiki and Rebecca take off and we see the universe.

Not gonna lie, that’s a really pretty shot. Like damn, I could get behind this.

It seems like worlds in this universe are basically like kingdom hearts worlds. They’re not real “worlds” so much as they are islands in space.

Sure, keep the mystery alive why don’t you, no that be too much.

Well great place to end the chapter. Little dry of a first story, but I definetly see that has room for improvment and there is something-Wait this isn’t the last page? But what else is there to talk about. There’s nothing left-

Oh for fuck sake. That’s right they were trying to send SHiki away. Because apparently these robots thought there was no way to restore battery life even if stayed.

Here’s a tip, ifyou really care, and had such a close bond, maybe tell him to leave? Tell SHiki the truth that you guys are tied to a battery and instead of Shiki vowing to leave for the stars so he can make 100 friends (I’m not kiding that’s his actual goal here). Then this would be an interesting goal.

But no, you have to act like human hating jackasses and shatter the boy’s entire reality, just so you he would go out and “change the universe”

This would be a really nice scene with a very nice amount of character development starting point, if we actually saw their past. All we know is they raised Shiki, but its never really seemed like they’re loving or caring or Shiki openly gets upset if one of them had a problem. Again the biggest flaw with this chapter is that it sacrifices seeing one potentially interesting relationship (Shiki and the robots) for another one (Rebecca).

So we end on this page which reveals that Shiki’s goal is to have a hundred friends. Not going to say something snarky I just realized this is the same motivation as Yuki from future diary. Like before the crazy yandere shit.

Post Chapter follow up:

Lets be positive and look at the good stuff in this chapter. The first thing great about this chapter is it improved upon two of the biggest failings in the first chapter FT. Goals established and world building. Not only does this set up force Hiro Mashima to actually world build (literally) but each person in the first chapter has a goal that doesn’t seem like it can be accomplished quickly. It means we can have investment in the story.

Another thing I’ll give is Shiki is an okay MC. He has more personality than Natsu, but not as much as Haru and this first chapter is about him. Its easy to understand that Lucy is often considered the MC of FT because it literally focuses on her for the story than Natsu. But this chapter had a healthy balance.

Also the power system at least seems to have some definition. Unlike how anyone could have magic yet normal people just don’t choose to use it like in FT. Ether Gear seems to be a powersource that only a select few can use. Now we need to see first if there are ways of combating it like technology or such so a non ether gear person can still fight.

It also has its own unique aesthetic. Ft is a pretty generic fantasy world. It doesn’t have the bleakness of bereserk or the Japanese aesthetic of naruto. You could say Black CLover, Fairy Tail, and Seven Deadly sins all had their first chapter happen in the same world and I’d have trouble arguing it.

Now on to the crappy stuff. This series suffers from the usual Mashima foibles such as the sexual harassment, the stupidly way it tries to justify and give all conflict happy ending, not actually bothering to have a situation drawn out ad built up too, etc. I mean for the first conflict of the chapter its a heavy one, these guys raised SHiki yet their own mentality is against humans so Shiki has to choose, but instead of actually answering that question, it turns out there was no real conflict and the machines were just faking.

As for my like for Shiki, I flat hate Rebecca. She is so pointless and useless. Look I will defend Lucy and she actually can d things. First chapter she saved Natsu by using aquarius. But Rebecca? She’s just all of the bad traits of post timeskip Lucy. She is used for pointless fanservice, does nothing contribute, and becomes a mouth piece for friendship.

Speaking of friendship as a concept and goal here, Hiro just rewrite what you mean. Have deeper meaning than friends for once. There is ways you could take the motivation “I want to make 100 friends” in a compelling way. Prehaps Shiki is going out to make his own world where he can make a happy place for people where they can laugh and cry in harmony. Like story telling wise its pretty weak.

Like me personally, I would’ve taken the first chapter like this, the robots are sentinet and they are nice to Shiki and Rebecca and they have genuine fun together. They gradually reveal that they are shutting down maybe one starts acting wonky and tries to hide it and maybe the machine king is the real bad guy. He has sentinece and hates humans and he wants to eliminate SHiki and Rebecca and that’s because they’re shutting down. The other robots say they don’t care they were abandoned, they were mad at first but Shiki showed them that why they loved catering to humans. King and Shiki fight and they all reveal they’re shutting down and Shiki cries he doesn’t want them to go. The robots say its inevitable and they don’t hpw to recharge the battery and Shiki vows to leave the planet and search for a power source to bring them all back. Then that’s shiki’s goal and it even can cause questions like “Is it worth all this for machines?” or “who designed them maybe we can figure out the right substance to power them up?”

or if Hiro wanted to go a more darker route. Have the machines have no sentience and literally be dolls for the King who turns out to be a human who stayed here on Granbell and made his own little kingdom. Make it a bit meta on how Shiki’s only friends were just hollow imitations of people who were only friends because that’s what their programming dictated and they can all be switched off. It be meta as critiquing Ft and how all the guild characters basically had no conflicts, all got along, and were just friends with no depth or reason.

This all highlights the issue with Hiro Mashima and that’s he is not a good a writer. Hiro is an incredibly talented person and can come up with incredibly unique ideas and looks, which is why his cover pages are the best things he puts out because its him free forming. But writing. He has a limited scope on that and stuff like sci-fi and fantasy can be very morally grey things. But Hiro doesn’t seem to understand tragedy in the sense that its tragic because a person fails or dies unsatisfied. But he only seems to know how to write painfully obvious concepts like “save the world” or “friendship” instead doing a concept like “what it is to be a hero” like MHA does which can have a variety of answers to it.

So what’s the final verdict? Well I actually am going to do something different than usual. I’m going to say what I though the quality was compared to FT and then to what I’d consider this work compared to anything else.

In comparison to FT, Eden’s Zero gets a Final verdict of 8/10

Improves on a lot of FT’s first chapter flaws

Created a more unique environment for a story

And actually has a lot tighter narrative

But in comparison to everything else...

Final Verdict: 5/10

Even if it wasn’t Hiro, its a pretty generic start (some names aren’t even all that inspired like Machine King, Demon King)

Potential to grow into something better is there

Nothing is outright offensive

Cool concept

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shewhowasbornlucky · 5 years

Text

the game

Royal Family Week 2019 @idonthatemaiko Day 4: Coming of Age

Lu Ten notices; he is not happpy with the discovery.

Cherry trees bless the spring, and the young prince drags a long breath – it has always been his favorite scent. More than his father’s tea, more than the ashes from his bending, more than the softest tarts from the kitchens or the breeze of the sea. Perhaps it is the reminder of his childhood, or the perfume her mother preferred, Lu Ten is not sure. The mind stands no chance against time, and memory slipped from the prince’s fingers, no matter how hard he fought. He does not ask simple questions – he has grown out of them. A prince has no time for platitudes, after all. That is a lesson he learned with time, and one he does not take lightly. There will come the day when his nation will need him, and the sleeping dragon needs to be ready.

He feels his uncle’s glance before he sees the man himself, and Lu Ten waits for the inevitable chat that will come out of it. He turns and looks at a pair of golden eyes so alike his own, and for a moment he lets his guard down.

Uncle Ozai is not much older than him. He remembers attending his lessons and doing his chores by his uncle’s side. He remembers hiding at the catacombs, and the ochre smell of it all. Lu Ten needs only to close his eyes, and he is chasing and being chased by a presence he came to like. The young prince remembers being held when he thought he was not going to make it – when his father’s spare thought his life had been equal to Lu Ten’s.

The young prince remembers Azulon’s ill-masked worry as they found their hiding place and the smell of burnt flesh at his father’s feet.

The prince does not remember Ozai’s heated glare as his father and his brother made sure the heir was safe first and foremost. He does not remember the force that the spare used to stand, or the wooden pride he showed when he walked without giving anyone a second look; he does not remember, for even if Ozai walked like a true prince, he was not the one who held power.

Their time together didn’t last; years weighted on him, and the young prince could not keep his young uncle from his duties any longer. As Lu Ten grew brighter, Ozai grew colder. The young prince cannot pinpoint the exact moment their relationship shattered, but he knows that no matter how much he wants to, his uncle may not be the same person he once was.

He went away in a blinking.

“Nervous?” he speaks. His voice has changed, too. There is no longer that awkward timbre Lu Ten remembers from his first years. He feels no comfort in the regality he now finds in it.

“Should I be?” he answers, and lets his hands fall at his sides. A prince never truly shows what he is feeling. He suspects he can’t let the mask fall even around his family. Azulon does not accept failure and there is nothing worse than weakness.

Ozai laughs, but it lacks the light it once held. The sound echoes around the hall, and the guards seem to play closer attention to their masters, if only to entertain in the court gossip.

“It’s not like you can ruin it,” his uncle says as he idly inspects the ends of his luscious locks. There is venom in his tone, even if Lu Ten cannot see it.

“Will Lady Ursa join us?” The prospect is exciting. He has been looking forward to the day the union is made official and he can call the lovely lady her aunt. He knows Ozai is, too. Lu Ten might be young, but he is not blind. The older prince’s eyes shine whenever she enters a room. Love or lust of power –whatever it might be— is a powerful motivator.

“Who knows,” is his uncle’s uninterested reply. He shrugs, and the action is too natural for it to be true. The young dragon is none the wise.

“You should,” Lu Ten says back, a small teasing smile on his lips. Prince Ozai might be his older, but he is still his nephew – in the future, he will be his king, too. Surely he can spare some time for a joke, Lu Ten muses.

Ozai does not betray his emotions easily; he hasn’t in the past years, but Lu Ten knows where to look. The older prince lifts an eyebrow, and there is the ghost of a smile barely pulling at the corner of his lips, though he fights it with honor. It is with honor that he wins.

The young dragon can’t say he is surprised, even if he can’t understand why a man on his right mind would deny himself of love. Much less when it comes from a creature as lovely as his future aunt.

“I hold no power over the Fire Lord’s guest; He, in all his wisdom, will know where and when to invite her.”

Lu Ten laughs – it is irritable, and childish and so pathetic Ozai actually wants to roll his eyes, but keeps himself from saying so. Only a frown betrays his true feelings.

“The Fire Lord is your father. My grandfather. We are alone – surely we can forget protocol.”

“We could,” Ozai concedes, though half-heartedly. He shakes his head. “You will do well remembering that our glory lies on our greatness, however.” It is now turn for Lu Ten to frown, but the older prince – the uncle he came to call a friend – does not flinch; it seems that his nephew has lost the power he held over him.

Lu Ten does not like the feeling of neglect any better than he likes having no power.

“Make sure the ladies don’t notice the way your voice trembles. No one likes a weak prince,” Ozai says, sparing him a glance. Lu Ten feels himself smile at the prospect of his favorite uncle sharing a piece of advice, but there’s something in the action –the mere act of looking at him –that says he is gracing him with his attention, and Lu Ten loses his ease. His uncle bows at him, though it is hardly with the same respect as his subjects or the sages do. “Good luck, my prince.”

Ozai disappears with no fanfare, leaving Lu Ten guessing if he ever cared for him, before. With a sigh, the young prince stands straighter and curses under his breath. At twelve, he is not a child. He will show his uncle as much. If he does not care for him as a nephew, he will care for him as a king. He will make sure of it.

His father’s footsteps –careful though firm – bring him back to reality. Lu Ten turns to smile at the glowing pride with which Prince Iroh looks at him.

“Nervous?”

“Just a little,” he admits in a small voice.

“You’ll be the greatest prince this nation has ever seen, my son. And they will love you as such,”

his father says in a tone that equals Lu Ten’s. Iroh has no doubt.

The young dragon surprises his father with a long and tight hug that leaves him breathless. Iroh closes his eyes, and laughs a little. How could someone not love his beautiful boy? He looks at him and sees nothing but a good prince. An imaginative kid. A dreamer. A little soldier who never gives up; a son who loves with everything he is. The picture of a loyal citizen to the Fire Nation. A true dragon. No one would ever hurt him, that he knows. One must lack a heart to take the light off of his fire-filled eyes.

Feared General Iroh closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy the gesture. There will come a day where they will have to part ways. He will march to the front with no promises of coming back, leaving his golden child behind. There will come a day where his little soldier will join him, and he can’t help but look forward to it.

“It is time, prince Lu Ten,” he says over his hair –so soft it reminds him of Lu Ten’s mother.

“Lead the way, father,” his golden child says with the voice of a son and not a prince. Iroh wouldn’t have preferred it other way.

The curtains open, and a baritone’s voice announces his coming. There is applause, and he feels the pride with which his father’s hand rests on his shoulder and Fire Lord Azulon’s calculating eyes fixed on them from across the room, his lips barely curving in a smile. There’s the hint of a smile on his lips that was not there when Ozai was announced, but Lu Ten does not know that.

He could care less.

The hymn starts to play, and Prince Lu Ten walks down the stairs by the Dragon of the West’s side. Nothing could ever be better than that.

Lady Ursa did join them at the party, Lu Ten learns as he sees her from across the room. She smiles that lovely smile of hers, surrounded by a group of young courtiers that pretend to be interested in what Hira’a is like. Lu Ten does not know, but not everyone is as excited as him at the prospect of the Avatar’s blood union to the crown.

There is no dancing, but the food is exquisite, and the hymns a delight. The Sages murmur into his father’s ears, and the eyes of the Dragon of the West burn the brightest with a father’s love.

“Princes Kumiko would be so proud,” is whispered among the groups and it reaches the prince’s ears. He can’t help but wonder, but he wears the compliment as if it came from the very same Fire Lord. Kumiko has become a shadow, but one he is happy to keep in his heart.

All eyes are on Prince Lu Ten; it is then that Ozai asks for Lady Ursa’s to join him for a walk.

They are gone for a big part of the ceremony, Lu Ten notices with a frown. All eyes are on him, and he is grateful. He only wishes his uncle would be happy for him, though he dares not to admit it to himself. That would suggest he believes his uncle does not care for him at all, and he is not yet ready for that.

Lu Ten is presented for all his country to see, and there is joyful screams and applause. No eyes left for the young spare – the last fruit of Lady Ilah’s womb matters not when compared to the Crown Prince’s heir. Ozai is not there to see it; there is something he wants more than the rights that were taken from him. Ozai is not there, and Lu Ten can’t help but feel it as a slap to his face.

Lu Ten sees not the way Lord Ozai sits with his bride at the foot of a tree near the pond. He sees not the way Ozai struggles to catch his breath and messes his words more times Ursa could count. He does not see, either, the way the turtle ducks spy on the young couple as Lady Ursa offers them bread. He sees not the way Ozai’s eyes seem wounded when she laughs carefree at him. He sees not the way the prince promises the world, lacking the beautiful words he studied or the exquisite manners he vowed to show. Lu Ten is not there to see the way Lady Ursa kisses her prince, pulling him closer to her. His crown falls from her eagerness and her caring hands, but Azulon’s oldest doesn’t care. He finds that forgetting who he is, at least for a moment, is not so bad.

For a moment, nothing matters.

“I will give you a crown of your own,” Ozai promises, and Lu Ten is not there to hear. Not there to see the way Lady Ursa smiles and shuts him with another soft kiss. Promises were never as lovely as those whispered by the pond, under the moon’s softest caress.

No night can be perfect, and so it comes to an end. Ozai sees Ursa part from his side with her head held high and an elegance that betrays her upbringing. He almost missed his brother’s coming to him.

“You missed the Sages’ speech,” Iroh mutters under his breath, the picture of a collected prince. Ozai has just insulted his lineage, and the Dragon would not allow it.

“Did I?” his brother answers, unbothered. It takes a great deal for Iroh to play it cool, but he reminds himself that his losing control is exactly what Ozai wants. He does not play by his rules; he has never, and he is not to start now.

His Lu Ten, however, is something he can’t help but defend with his all. “He is your nephew, Ozai.”

“Then he will forgive his loving uncle’s misstep.” He looks at him, and does not even bother to hide his annoyance. Iroh purses his lips. Ozai’s eyes gleam, and for the first time in many years, Iroh sees joy in them. It makes his blood boil. “I am sorry, brother of mine,” the young prince continues, and the way his eyes darken tells no niceties even if his tone is sweet as sugar, “but I had to take it out of my chest. I could not live any longer with it,” he breathes, and if Iroh were another he might have fallen for his baby brother’s act. “I am to marry Lady Ursa in the summer. Surely you haven’t forgotten what is like to love another, dear brother?”

Iroh does not answer Ozai’s smile. “Congratulations, Prince Ozai,” he bows his head. “She will make a good wife,” Iroh says, and it falls not on deaf ears the implied meaning behind of his equally sweet tone. Ozai clenches his jaw. “Do not forget to pay your respects to your Prince. It would do you good to remember your place.”

With that, Iroh is gone. His cape murmurs in the air, and his steps are strong and graceful. Ozai made a promise, and a crown will rest on Lady Ursa’s head one day. Iroh simply does not know it yet.

His smile disappears.

Lu Ten is eighteen when he reaches his mature age. There is a ball to celebrate, and members of the royal houses of the Fire Nation attend with their pretty heirs. Crown Prince Lu Ten, heir of the Dragon Throne will choose a bride once the siege of Ba Sing Se is over, and more than one are eager to occupy the role.

General Iroh enters the room with his son dressed in the finest silks and their hairs in a bun; the style of a warrior. There is no nervousness – it has left the prince a long, long time ago. He is in his element; he has been born to rule over the people inside the room. Applause erupts and the young prince and his father are welcomed with a war song about the General’s last conquest, and the young dragon’s greatest adventure. Fire Lord Azulon watches with little interest as they move around their guests, pleased with their manners and success.

“Little brother, you are looking nice,” Lady Ursa bows respectfully to the two of them.

“You’re not bad yourself, dear Aunt,” Lu Ten smiles at her, and engulfs her in a hug. “How are the kids? I couldn’t meet them earlier.”

“They are eager to meet with their favorite cousin,” she smiles.

“How was the front?” Ozai asks with a glass in his hand, and Lu Ten’s smile disappears as soon as it came.

“Eventful, Uncle, but the Fire Nation holds its grounds. Soon, Ba Sing Se will be ours,” he has no doubt, how can he?

He knows his father’s reputation was not built in lies. He knows it is his destiny to ride by his father’s side to a conquest that will grant them glory and honor. He will bring the Earth Kingdom to its knees, and he will rebuild it from scratch for the glory of the Fire Nation. Like a Phoenix, his kingdom will reborn, and his father will be there to reign until his dying day.

So was said by the prophecy, and so Lu Ten believes.

“Just as Sozin dreamed,” his uncle says with a small nod, and Lu Ten can’t help but see the way something in Ursa’s eyes flashes. She says nothing; she is too intelligent for that. Sometimes, Lu Ten forgets she is Avatar Roku’s blood.

Sometimes, he thinks she has forgotten.

“But what about you?” she asks after taking a sip of sake. Her sweet tone makes one forget how carefully chosen her words are. “What has filled our dearest prince’s dreams? Have you got your eyes on a woman yet?” Ursa smiles at her nephew, and Lu Ten can’t help but laugh.

“There is no rush, dearest Sister. My father is busy at the siege, and my heart beats for our nation,” he says in his Prince voice, and it takes all his strength for Ozai not to roll his eyes.

“Your nation will need a strong consort, my prince,” says Ursa with a delicate hand on the young prince’s shoulders, “I’m sorry Princess Kumiko is not here to help.”

“She would have wanted me to be happy.”

“She would,” Ozai concedes, but it is too low to study his tone. Lu Ten has giving up on that for quite some time.

“Are you, my prince?” Ursa looks at him with bright eyes and a brighter smile. “Are you happy?”

“More than anything,” he doesn’t even hesitate. How could he? Lu Ten has everything one could ever desire, and then more. He has his father by his side, and what can be any better?

Ozai makes a toast for the young prince long and happy life, and Lu Ten graces it with a small bow.

“Shhh, Zuzu, don’t laugh, they’re going to hear us!” the young girl protests in a voice too loud to be secretive.

“They are going to hear you if you can’t keep your mouth shut!” Zuko says, as annoyed as his age permits allows him.

“I can’t see cousin Lu Ten.” Azula tries, but even standing on her tiptoes she can’t spot the flame crown she knows her cousin must be wearing. In front of them, a sea of nobles extends talking in hushed tones.

“He is right there,” Zuko says in a whisper, suddenly remembering how important it is to stay hidden. They are supposed to be sleeping, after all. Escaping from Li and Lo was never an easy task, but always a pleasure they indulged whenever possible. This time it was particularly harder, and it had resulted in an accident with their bending and them hiding at the salon in their sleepwear. “The one with the bun.”

“I can’t see anything! Your gigantic head takes too much space!” she protests in hushed tones, and Zuko made an exasperated sound that was so alike Ursa Azula couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“If Father catches us—“

“He won’t do anything,” she says.

“He won’t be happy.”

“Are you afraid, Zuzu?” If Azula wasn’t so tired she would find delight in the way her brother seems to fear their father. If Azula were another, she would have been terrified of it.

“I’m not afraid!” Zuko was always easy to anger. Pouting, he pushed his sister. “It wasn’t my idea, anyway!”

Azula likes not to be handled like a little girl, so she pulls from Zuko’s phoenix tail. “But you’re here, dum dum!”

“That’s because I didn’t want to—!”

“Shut up, they are going to hear us!”

“You shut u--!”

“I cannot wait to see Princess Azula’s presentation,” the two siblings freeze when they listen to their cousin’s voice.

“A princess kissed by fire, after so long. It certainly cannot go uncelebrated,” Ursa says, and for a moment, Azula thinks she hears pride in her words. Her little heart beats too fast, and she can’t help but smile. Princess Ursa goes on through gritted teeth, but her smile does not betray her discomfort. “If only she wasn’t so… temperamental.”

“She will grow out of it, dear Sister. She’s still young.”

Ursa’s answer is a tired sigh that she tries to cover with her bright smile. She would never let her mask slip. She trained well for that. Azula sees her smile, but she sees the way her eyes betray her frustration too, if only for a few seconds. The young princess’ heart no longer seems to flutter in its happiness.

“She is a fast learner,” Ozai says, and it sounds like he is trying to defend her. “And a bending prodigy,” he continues, and the way he says so is filled with pride and an ambition that Ursa does not see. For all of her father’s compliments, Azula has only eyes for the way her mother scoffs. Excellence is expected; a princess cannot be anything but perfect. Approval is needed, but her mother would not give it to her. The princess’ smile disappears just as fast as her mother’s, and she is pretty much tempted to set the curtain on fire just to see a reaction.

Lu Ten, who had watched the two closely, nods. “I heard you are considering sending Zuko to Master Piandao.” The young prince knows when a battle is not his to fight, and so he retires with honor.

“He is really talented with knives!”Ursa’s spirits lighten up when Zuko is mentioned. She does not seem to need to act.

The young prince stands taller and smiles smugly at her sister, who in turn rolls her eyes.

“Your father has suggested it; I am simply following his counsel,” Ozai explains. “Though I can’t say the boy has no talent for the art,” there’s the smallest hint of a smile again, and Zuko understands that is the closest he will get to hear an ‘I love you’ from his father, so he treasures it close to his heart.

“He has the spirit of a warrior; no matter how much it may seem that he fails, he never goes down without a fight,” there it is. The adoration in Ursa’s voice does not go unheard.

“If only he were a better bender,” Ozai muses, and it only takes his frown for Zuko’s smile to shake.

Their children are pawns they use against each other, Lu Ten notices, but does not feel alright with that discovery.

“Perhaps he is in need of a better teacher,” he tries to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Perhaps,” Ozai nods sharply, and Ursa scoffs quietly.

Azula stays quiet for a long moment. Zuko, as her older brother and the closes thing to an authority right there, and knowing her like he does, is sure it isn’t a good sign. He patiently waits for the outburst. He thinks himself a warrior waiting for his opponent’s attack.

“Let’s get out of here, Zuzu. It smells like old man in here,” she finally says with a scorn, and makes a show of wanting to throw up.

She has yet to learn to lie, but she knows to find an out whenever needed.

“I’d rather be eating a tart,” Zuko says, and looks for her eyes. He can’t stand to listen to what his father truly thinks of him any longer.

“Let’s steal some, dum-dum,” Azula takes his hand, and Zuko lets her lead the way.

Their parent’s words ring on their ears.

The next year, Lu Ten’s birthday goes uncelebrated. Crown Prince Iroh is nowhere to be seen, and Ozai is scheming as Ursa pushes back. Zuko and Azula stand in the middle of their game, proud and strong like the pawns they are.

The air still smells of cherry trees.

#ozai #ursa #iroh #lu ten #zuko #azula #urzai #atla #it is taking me longer than i wouldve wanted but I WILL NOT SURRENDER #also pretty much everyone is trashy in this #im sorry #i love love the portrayal of ursa in the series as this lady macbeth

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thlayli-rah · 5 years

Quote

I was talking about how - this childhood tendency of mine - I’m the most gullible person alive. I believe everything I’m told. Not just while it’s being told to me; a poet named Bill Direen has a very strong credo that, you know, for the duration of the story that someone is telling you, believe it. But I can’t escape at the end and so that’s sort of a thing about me. And consequently, I’m the kind of person who- and I think more people have this than admit it. You know how you hear a really dumb song - like you know it’s dumb, it’s just not the sort of stuff you maybe normally would listen to - and then you start to cry. And you say, ‘Why am I crying at ‘Nearest Distant Shore’, a country song from the eighties?’ Well, it’s that you let yourself get sucked into it and suddenly everything- the protagonist person was real, so maybe it’s dumb because they’re feeling beleaguered and they’re not really powerful enough to articulate things in a way that’s really clever because they’re in a whole, huge amount of psychic pain. Maybe that’s the reality of the dumb song. So anyway, I play video games and sometimes- and I’m not talking about video games with complex plot lines that everyone cries at, right. Everyone cries at 'Ocarina’. It’s true, when they seal Zelda up in the amber and you can’t- everybody cries at that. But this is not that. There’s not a lot of people who, when you reach the end of the maze and it blinks and Pac-Man has eaten all the dots and eaten a few ghosts while he was at it, so he has earned some right to freedom and rest… and the maze blinks and this music plays and you think, 'Oh, what music are they playing for Pac-Man?’ Maybe, as they usher him into the house that he won because he completed the maze. 'It’s so nice that he’s finished. He worked so hard at it. He died twice on the way through the maze and now he’s done! So now, good for him. And I helped him get there. So, this is great!’ And then a new maze full of dots presents itself. And there’s new ghosts, none of them are actually dead. Every time you eat them, the ghosts come back to life. And if you’re me, you reach a point where this feels like a crushing psychic weight. Like, 'Oh my god, Pac-Man will never be done. He will never be done. He has to eat the dots forever. There is no escape from the maze. There’s an exit on this side of the screen, but it just comes right back out on the other side of the screen. It’s hell. Pac-Man was born in and lives in hell. That’s all you’re doing, is helping him walk around down there and be chased by demons who have names like Inky and Blinky. You have to pool in a harsh universe through which he lives.’ So this song is about a little fellow who goes to free the woman he loves from an evil dragon. And he’s really not… he’s just a plumber. He’s not a hero or nothing. He’s just a little plumber–and he’s exceedingly little. I know it’s uncool to call people little, or something; like, people are all sorts of sizes but this guy’s literally like half an inch tall. And like one day, he just wakes up inside a sewer and the sewer has creatures that fly and he fights and fights and fights. But when he gets past the evil dragon, the person he’s looking for isn’t there. But somebody else he knows is, that he didn’t even know was being held prisoner. His name is Mario. His friend’s name is Toad. I find their story profoundly moving so I wrote this song for them.

John Darnielle on Thank You Mario But Our Princess Is In Another Castle

#the mountain goats

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sage-selfships · 5 years

Text

Sage H. D. - Bully Self-Insert

This is my Self-Insert for Bully/Canis Canem Edit! I made the art myself and would appreciate if you didn’t use it! The Template was created by Silkvale and found here! I will post updated versions to @kitty-selfshipping so uhm yeah, follow that blog to read it when it’s totally finished or edited.

If you are interested in reading the current info about my Bully Self-Insert, please read under the cut!

Biographical Information Full Name [& Pronunciation] - Sage Holland Drage ( S AI J ) ( H AW - l uh n d ) ( d r ai j ) Meaning - Herb or Prophet, Ridgeland, Dragon Set Age - 14-15 Certified Birthdate - 12 January 1992 (not my real birth year, but shh) Astrological Sign - Capricorn Pronouns - They/them or He/Him Aliases & Preferred Nicknames – Dumbbell - Sage might not actually like the nickname, but Mandy WIles insist on calling Sage it whenever Mandy sees Sage, so Sage is Dragon - As some people may not be able to pronounce Sage’s surname, Sage just call themselves Dragon to make it easier for everyone. Ms. Shy - Even though Sage prefers to go by he/him or they/them pronouns, people insist on calling them ms, and many people consider them shy because of how they seem terrified of new people Puppy - A nickname Sage got from Kirby Olsen, that they claim matches their general personality Ethnicities Distant Descendants : American, British, Dominant Descendants : Norwegian, Swedish, Danish Physical Description Hair Color - Brown Eye Color - Blue Weight – Height - Typical Clothing Wear : Maroon or pink vest, purple skirt, blue bow, purple bow, pink shoes - School uniform Red stained dress and blonde wig - Halloween costume, that is supposed to resemble Carrie White from the movie Carrie Faux fur coat, faux fur ushanka - Winter attire Figure/Build - Distinguishing Features/Scars/ or Birthmarks – A mole just over their lip Explain: Tattoos: Piercings: Frequently Worn Jewelry: Choker belt around their neck Personal Information Current Living Arrangements - Sage currently lives with three of their American relatives, but also they technically live at Bullworth, in the girl’s dorm Originated from - Vestfold, Norway Traveled Territories - Hobbies - Fears – Spiders, snakes, insects, heights, scarecrows, most of the jocks Religion/Beliefs – Atheist Why?: Sage grew up in an atheist family, as simple as that. Health Behaviors Physical Ailments/ Disabilities/ Issues – Addiction(s) [Sex, Drugs, Smoking, Alcohol, Other] Why?: Any regular medication taken? – Medication for their Iron Deficiency and for their Hives Chronological Information Profession - Student Likes - Dislikes - Goals/Ambitions – Most Instructive/Painful/Memorable Experience - Story behind experience: Weapons/Equipment - Sage mostly fights using their hands but can use a baseball if they need to Personal Attributes Personality - Strengths - Weaknesses - Good Habits - Bad Habits - Fetishes/Strange Behaviors - Stereotype - Shy kid with few friends As you know them better(and you like them) : As you know them better(and you hate them) : Ratings on Personal Qualities (don't go overboard make reasonable stats for your character) Physical Strength : 4/10 Sage might not regularly train, but surprisingly Sage is stronger than they seem Attractive : 5/10 Sage doesn’t consider themselves the most beautiful and mostly blames it upon their parents and grandparents for how they look Honesty : 7/10 Sage hates lying in general, but still does lie if they need to. Rule Abiding : 3/10 Sage thinks certain rules are to be broken and others are to be broken. Sociability : 3/10 Sage is quite shy when it comes to meeting new people, but if they muster up enough confidence they can make new friends. Bullworth Academy Information Reason for enrolling: Sage has lacked disiplince and Sage’s parents had relatives that lived close Bullworth, so they decided on sending them to a Clique - Standing and Rank in Social Circle - Room Number – 4 Roommate(s)- Zoe Taylor & Beatrice Trudeau Favourite Subject(s) – English, & Art Why?: Sage loves English because they’ve felt so motivated and Least Favorite Subject(s) – Why?: Favourite Teacher – Mr. Galloway & Mrs. Philips Why?: Mr. Galloway - Sage takes a liking to Mr. Galloway, mostly because he encouraged and gave Sage a warm welcome to the school, during Sage’s first day at Bullworth Mrs. Philips - Sage got a few compliments Least Favorite Teacher – Mr. Slawter Why?: Sage is quite afraid of Mr. Slawter, mostly because he yelled at Sage during their first class Knowledgeability Language(s) – Norwegian, English Schooling Level - Grade 8-9, Expertise – Chemistry - Math - English - Geography - Sage knows a few things, like where certain European countries are, but after that, nothing more Politics/Law - Economy - Cooking/Culinary - Shop - Botany/Biology - Mythology - high / Sage knows a lot about Norrøn Mythology and enjoys learning more and more about it Art - high / Sage highly enjoys Art and feels that they know a lot about the rules about realism and perspective Photography - Sage knows how to use a camera, and what settings look good or not, so they consider themselves at a 5/10 Reading Level - Overall Intelligence Level(s) - Interpersonal and Naturalistic. Relationships Statuses (once you list characters here, delete them from the other list near the end of this information sheet, makes things less confusing) (Also, please describe the relationships of your character with other characters) Trusted Companions Closest Friend(s) – Milliz - “I trust her with my life. Nothing more or less to say. And might I add that her and Earnest are really freakiNG ADOREABLE?” (Jeg beklager ikke for at du er satt på denne lista, Milliz) Friend(s) - Kirby Olsen - Despite Kirby being a jock and Sage being afraid of most of the jocks, Kirby and Sage are pretty close and

Hated Rivals Worst Enemies – Intolerable Students - Harmless Acquaintances Tolerated Students - Tolerated Townsfolk - Hot Encounters Hinted Attractions - Crush(es) - Lover(s) - Gary Smith, Jimmy Hopkins and Petey (Ey, don’t judge me please or make comments about this please, I just ship myself with all of them :( I will also make like another post or tweet where I just describe everything from lore to headcanons about this ) Ex(s) - None Extra Information Eating Habits Omnivore/Carnivore/Herbivore – Favorite Food(s): Favorite Drink(s): Disliked Food(s): Disliked Drink(s): Added Information Proclaimed Theme Song(s) - Either Dancing Queen by ABBA or Scent – Favourite Color: Favourite Season: Favourite Animal: Sage Favourite Music Genre: Sage can’t really choose, but they are very fond of country and Pop Most Memorable Quote – Various Quotes Through Interaction : “ Walking around – “I sure hope Mandy was joking when he called me a dumbbell...” “I don’t know jack dritt about math, how am I supposed to get a good grade?” “Gary mentioned something about rats, wondered what he was on about.” “I’m considering joining a clique... but which one?” “ “ “ “ When the fire alarm goes off – “Stuff like this always happens when you least expect it.” “Sure hope this isn’t a drill, I don’t want my slippers to get wet again without reason.” Greetings Good Terms: “Hiya!” “Hey there, best friend!” “How ya doing, sweetie?” “How are you doing, buddy?” “Hey, anyhting fun happen recently?” “Bro! What’s up?” “Heisann!” (Norwegian for ‘Hey there’) Bad Terms: “Please leave me alone” “I rather not talk.” “Ew.” “Get out of my face!” “Leave me alone!” “Continue being around me and I’ll beat you up! Or cry!” Saying goodbye – Good Terms: “Have a good day! “See you later!” “Hope you have a good night!” Bad Terms: “”See you in Hell, I uhm mean class.” “Leave already.” “I’m getting a headache, gotta go.” “Byyeee, see you never.” When Flirted With – Good Terms: “I uhm...” “Thank you....” “Well I uhm, thank you so much! I uhm haha, we should hang out or something!” “I feel flattered. I’ll uhh have to go over there until the blushing stops.” “Continue acting this sweet and you’re going to be getting ladies really quickly.” “ “You’re such a sweetheart!” “If I were of age, I would marry you right here on the spot, but I’m still too young.” Bad Terms: “I wouldn’t say I don’t like you, but I’m not that interested.” “Not to be rude, but no.” “That better not be trying to make me blush, because it didn’t work at all.” “ “

Watching a fight – “I know I shouldn’t watch this crap, but damn it feels so right, right now!” “ Attacking – “I’m sorry!” “I have no choice in this situation, so I apologize beforehand!” “I learnt this one from my friend!” While Fighting – “I really wish it didn’t have to end with one of us being hurt!” “Ouch! Thanks, I guess!”

Chasing someone – “You can run, but you can also hide!” “Come back here! please...!” Out of breath – “This always happens....” “Why do I have to have iron deficiency? When hidden from – “ Knocked out – “ Stinkbomb explodes – “I can’t see shit!” “I should be happy I can’t smell anything from before!” Opinions on students who reside at Bullworth Academy– (in alphabetical order) Bullies Davis White: Ethan Robinson: Russell Northrop: Tom Gurney: Trent Northwick: Troy Miller: Wade Martin: Zoe Taylor: Greasers Hal Esposito: Johnny Vincent: Lefty Mancini: Lola Lombardi: Lucky De Luca: Norton Williams: Peanut Romano: Ricky Pucino: Vance Medici: Jocks Bo Jackson: Casey Harris: Damon West: Dan Wilson: Juri Karamazov: Luis Luna: Mandy Wiles: Ted Thompson: Nerds Algernon Papadopoulos: Beatrice Trudeau: Bucky Pasteur: Cornelius Johnson: Donald Anderson: Earnest Jones: Fatty Johnson: Melvin O'Connor: Thad Carlson: Non-Cliques Angie Ng: Christy Martin: Constantinos Brakus: Eunice Pound: Gloria Jackson: Gordon Wakefield: Ivan Alexander: Karen Johnson: Lance Jackson: Melody Adams: Pedro De La Hoya: Ray Hughes: Sheldon Thompson: Trevor Moore: Preppies Bif Taylor: Bryce Montrose: Chad Morris: Derby Harrington: Gord Vendome: Justin Vandervelde: Parker Ogilvie: Pinky Gauthier: Tad Spencer: Opinion on Adults who teach and patrol at Bullworth Academy – (in alphabetical order) Miss Danvers: Miss Peters: Mr. Galloway: Mr. Luntz: Mr. Matthews: Mr. Wiggins: Mrs. Carvin: Mrs. MacRae: Mrs Peabody: Ms. Phillips: Neil: Prefects – Edward Seymour II: Karl Branting: Max MacTavish: Seth Kolbe: Opinions on People in the cities of Bullworth – (in alphabetical order) Townies Clint(aka Henry): Sage doesn’t like saying it, but they’re quite afraid of him and Duncan: Edgar Munsen: Gurney: Jerry: Leon: Omar Romero: Otto Tyler: Residents in the city of Bullworth – Bethany Jones: Denny: Dr. Bambillo: Krakauer: Mihailovich: Miss Abby: Mr. Brekindale: Mr. Buckingham: Mr. Castillo: Mr. Doolin: Mr. Huntingdon: Mr. Johnson: Mr. Martin: Mr. Ramirez: Mr. Salvatore: Mr. Smith: Mr. Sullivan: Ms. Rushinski Mrs. Lisburn: Osborne:

#Not finished but do I care? not really #I will try and finish this soon just not today #anyways I might have mnetioned another self-shipper in the post so look for that if you want #Self Insert #Sage Drage #Bully Self-Insert #Bully OC

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edxnwood · 6 years

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2. A DRAGON AND A GOD

Sexual themes included. Slight Smut.

DAENERYS WATCHED IN HORROR AS DOTHRAKI MEN and women all hung around, some having sex with whatever partner they could find, some men fighting, and others were speaking with some of Essos' traders, speaking about what they could sell and what they what they could buy, music, moans, and loud talking were filling her ears, making her feel unclean. The dark colors of the Dothraki mingled in with the bright hues of the Free People, one of the guests coming up and handing over a bowl filled with things that were either rocks or dirty flatbread. A khalasar member walks up and takes the silver bowl, moving it to the side for the next gift.

Daenerys' hair waved in the wind, the air picking up off her shoulders as one man with a small chest full of snakes stepped up to them, the Targaryen's breath catching in her throat as Loki smiled down, rethinking of one of the times he so-lovingly stabbed his brother after transforming into a viper. Corn snakes, small boas, and a python slithered against one another, hissing at each other. The man picks them up in his hands, shows them their colors and slowly puts them back in, using a free hand to push one of the reptile's body off his arm. Viserys watched in amusement as Daenerys took a deep, shaky breath, her eyes following the chest as it was moved away from them, seeing Loki smile widely at his wife.

Daenerys then saw the horse hearts being cooked, the blood being ladled back onto the pink skin, flies buzzing around the "food", and more flies buzzed around some type of vermin meat that was supposedly cooked, but Dany could still see the pink splotches on the skin. She gave one look at her husband and realized that he was a savage too for actually letting these people cook such revolting food instead of having fine wine, crackers, goat, sheep, and delicate desserts such as lemon cakes. A woman moaned as a man's hard cock drove into her cunt, another danced to the music with her breast hanging out of her dress, not caring one bit about who saw. Viserys takes one sip of wine and steals a glance at his poor sister. "When do I meet with the God?" He asks Illyrio. "We need to begin planning the invasion."

"If Prince Loki has promised you a crown, you shall have it."

"When?"

"When their omens favor war," the Magister replies, the Targaryen in front of his not favoring the answer he got, shaking his head as he fires back. "I piss on Asgardian omens," Loki glares at Viserys' back, hearing what he said, but decides to say nothing of it; it will all be taken care of one way or another. "I waited seventeen years to get my throne back." Viserys raises the horn to his lips and sips at the burgundy tart liquid that resided inside the vessel, the woman that was dancing now wrapped up in some man's arm as he hurriedly took out his penis, wanting so badly to stuff it inside her. Another man puts a small plate of food in front of the married couple, somewhat ashamed that it was the only thing he was able to afford at the moment.

Dany stares as a woman is repeatedly thrusted into, her head moving along with each hard impact of the man's skin on hers, bent on all fours, her lewd moans sounding out of her lips. Loki wants so badly to rip his wife's dress off and fuck her in the middle of the party but remembers that he was a prince and had to do it away from the naked eye. A Dothraki throws another off a woman, pushing her down and driving his cock into her dripping wet hole. Another man punches the one fucking the girl, grabbing onto his hair as he drove his fist into his nose once more. They continue to fight, Dothraki men and women cheering them on from their spots, a sword was taken out, one of them repeatedly swinging it to kill the other. Now the two are armed and fighting, one being somewhat cocky, but the other just slices his stomach open, the crimson color of his guts and blood spilling onto the ground below, Dany turning her head away from the sight as the braid from the defeated was chopped off.

Women circled him, all wanting to have sex with him one way or another. "A Dothraki wedding without at least three deaths is considered a dull affair." Viserys smiles, a knight in Westerosi garb walks up the spouses, holding books. Loki addresses him in the Norse language, the old man bowing down, "Hello, my friend," the man straightens up. "A small gift for the new Khaleesi. Songs and histories from the Seven Kingdoms."

Khaleesi.

The official name for the queen of a Dothraki tribe, given to her by an old man she hasn't seen or talked to before, but his kindness seemed real, his old, weathered hands giving her the three leather-bound books with care. "Thank you, Ser," she says for the first time since the wedding started, Loki looking at her with surprise; he thought that she was mute, but not that he had heard her real voice and the accent that adorned it, it was like music to his ears. He wondered what it would sound like screaming his name. "Are you from my country?"

"Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island," the man answers. "I served your father for many years. Gods be good, I hope to always serve the rightful king."

Then, Dany is presented with a large chest, the slave men opening it, and staring back up at her were three beautiful dragon eggs, green, white and a mix of red and black. She picks up the green egg, feeling its heavy weight in her arms, the bottom dotted with what looked to be mold. "Dragons' eggs, Daenerys. From the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. The ages have turned them to stone, but they will always be beautiful." Viserys becomes jealous, wanting those eggs for himself because, as he always reminded his sweet sister, he was the true dragon, not her. Dany runs her hands over the ridges on the oval egg, feeling the scale-like texture to it, nodding her silver head at the Magister. "Thank you, Magister," she says, placing the egg back inside.

Loki rises, tall and dark, Dany looking sick with fear as she realized that she had to follow him; the wedding was over. The Dothraki part and close as she walks through them, all of them surrounding her as she made her way to where her husband was, staring at her in wonder; what would a pink girl's twat taste like?

In front of her stood a white broodmare, the magnificent horse fitted with a saddle and her coat was shining brightly, the Khaleesi running her hand over its coat. "She's beautiful," she says, but soon remembers that Loki didn't speak the Common Tongue. "Ser Jorah, I don't know how to say thank you in the Norse language." Jorah takes the time to translate her words, smiling up at the prince with a knowing smile, knowing something that Dany didn't. Loki rounds the horse and puts his hands in Dany's underarms, picking his wife's petite body up and sitting her on her new horse. Daenerys rights herself, spreading her legs and putting them on either side of the mare, holding on to the reigns. Loki pulls himself up on his, Viserys putting his hand on his sibling's leg. "Make him happy."

With a scared look, Dany rides off beside Loki, a few inches behind the god she now had to call her husband.

♕♕♕

Dany stared off into the sunset, wishing that she was on the back of a great dragon, flying away from all of her fears and issues or, better than that, riding high and mighty into the battle between her, her internal and external demons, setting fire to those lingering thoughts that had robbed her of her sleep, a helm with a dragon opening its mouth mid-roar placed on her head as a chest plate decorated her dragon's torso.

Loki watched his consort while holding on to his horse, hearing the waves crash against the rocks below, the grey dress Dany wore waving in the wind, her short legs visible through the thin fabric, letting him see the outline of her quim, looking warm and inviting for his now-throbbing member. He walks up to her, throwing something to the ground, reaching out a hand, picking up a lock of her silver hair, passing the strand through his fingertips. He would give anything to see that hair splayed across his lap as her mouth was wrapped around his cock, sucking and licking with inexperienced movements, waiting for him to chase his orgasm and leave white streaks of hot come on her chest. He unties the knot of her dress, wiping away a tear from his wife's face as she let out soft sobs. "No," he says and this elicits another sob from her, her hand holding up the front of her dress so that it wouldn't fall to the ground and let her breasts be seen, to be touched by him and him only. "Do you know the Common Tongue?" Dany asks, Loki pulling the dragon head pin that held her dress together from its spot, dropping it to the ground with a soft clang of metal on dry sand. "No," he answers, circling back around her, watching her with careful, glaring eyes.

"Is no the only word that you know?"

"No."

The sound of something dropping, something that sounded large and heavy, resonated in Dany's ears, making her heart jump at what it could've possibly been. When Loki's hands begin to pull off the fabric, Dany lets out a soft sob, holding her hands over her bare chest as the dress falls off her body, but her husband was stronger; he pulled her unwilling arms away from her skin, allowing him to see the rose-colored buds on her plump breasts, his hand coming around and wrapping themselves around her throat, thumb grazing her jaw as he buried his head in the crook of her neck, smelling the lavender oil her maids had placed there. His hand moves down her body slowly, brushing over her nipple, and brings it back up to her shoulder, placing a lot of weight on it to push her to the ground, kneeling before her spouse.

Her king.

#daenerys targaryen #Daenerys #daenerys stormborn #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#loki x daenerys #marvel #game of thrones crossover

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tmgbanter · 7 years

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I was talking about how - this childhood tendency of mine - I’m the most gullible person alive. I believe everything I’m told. Not just while it’s being told to me; a poet named Bill Direen has a very strong credo that, you know, for the duration of the story that someone is telling you, believe it. But I can’t escape at the end and so that’s sort of a thing about me. And consequently, I’m the kind of person who- and I think more people have this than admit it. You know how you hear a really dumb song - like you know it’s dumb, it’s just not the sort of stuff you maybe normally would listen to - and then you start to cry. And you say, ‘Why am I crying at 'Nearest Distant Shore’, a country song from the eighties?’ Well, it’s that you let yourself get sucked into it and suddenly everything- the protagonist person was real, so maybe it’s dumb because they’re feeling beleaguered and they’re not really powerful enough to articulate things in a way that’s really clever because they’re in a whole, huge amount of psychic pain. Maybe that’s the reality of the dumb song. So anyway, I play video games and sometimes- and I’m not talking about video games with complex plot lines that everyone cries at, right. Everyone cries at 'Ocarina’. It’s true, when they seal Zelda up in the amber and you can’t- everybody cries at that. But this is not that. There's not a lot of people who, when you reach the end of the maze and it blinks and Pac-Man has eaten all the dots and eaten a few ghosts while he was at it, so he has earned some right to freedom and rest... and the maze blinks and this music plays and you think, 'Oh, what music are they playing for Pac-Man?' Maybe, as they usher him into the house that he won because he completed the maze. 'It's so nice that he's finished. He worked so hard at it. He died twice on the way through the maze and now he's done! So now, good for him. And I helped him get there. So, this is great!' And then a new maze full of dots presents itself. And there's new ghosts, none of them are actually dead. Every time you eat them, the ghosts come back to life. And if you're me, you reach a point where this feels like a crushing psychic weight. Like, 'Oh my god, Pac-Man will never be done. He will never be done. He has to eat the dots forever. There is no escape from the maze. There's an exit on this side of the screen, but it just comes right back out on the other side of the screen. It's hell. Pac-Man was born in and lives in hell. That's all you're doing, is helping him walk around down there and be chased by demons who have names like Inky and Blinky. You have to pool in a harsh universe through which he lives.' So this song is about a little fellow who goes to free the woman he loves from an evil dragon. And he's really not... he's just a plumber. He's not a hero or nothing. He's just a little plumber--and he's exceedingly little. I know it's uncool to call people little, or something; like, people are all sorts of sizes but this guy's literally like half an inch tall. And like one day, he just wakes up inside a sewer and the sewer has creatures that fly and he fights and fights and fights. But when he gets past the evil dragon, the person he's looking for isn't there. But somebody else he knows is, that he didn't even know was being held prisoner. His name is Mario. His friend's name is Toad. I find their story profoundly moving so I wrote this song for them.

John Darnielle introducing Thank You Mario But Our Princess Is In Another Castle, Rio Theater on 2012-06-22

#john darnielle #the mountain goats #tmg #thank you mario #long post

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thevoilinauttheory · 7 years

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Entry #7: Only Lies Are Skin Deep

FFXIV Writing Challenge Prompt #7: Broken Leaf

**All characters mentioned belong to me**

Not a day went by that the boy barely turned man felt the itch to fight - for himself, for his friends. For his country. He had trained for this. Lived for this. The chance to make his life better while aiding his fellow Ishgardians.

Except.

He was stuck on the patrol routes. The ones that barely see even a bell of action. The ones that came home exhausted from the trek around the Coerthas Highlands, yet not a gil in their pocket for it. The ones that made him feel as if his expertise as a lancer was for naught. Perhaps he should have become a medic, at least they get to experience a Dravanian attack. And yet, he did not. He wanted to face a dragon and live to tell the tale; he wanted to kill and claim it for the update in his lacking status.

At the age of twenty-three winters, Maximiloix was rambunctious, fiery, and so...so...

"Ugh, Ald, I'm so boooored - there's nothing on these patrols, why do we even do them? The commander just keeps trying to get rid of us, I swear it." The young man groaned in the painful agony of boredom and exhaustion; and his friend, ally, and brother-in-law had to bare the brunt of his complaints.

"Maxim, you have a wife and two kids, do you really want to face a dragon and come back home in pieces? I didn't think so. And I don't want to have to be the one to tell my sister that her husband went chasing dragons and faerietales." Alderic pointed to a small encampment of Temple Knights ahead on their path. "Look, you can take a break but I swear - I kill you myself if I hear another word about how boring our shifts are. The commander assigned us for a reason." But his words were only met with a sigh of defeat, Maximiloix was not going to get his day to do anything but pretend he was some hero to be applauded by the common man.

Instead, he was spat on. For what hero is a man who grew up poor in a city ruled by the rich? Why didn't he just pack up his family and leave? There were many places to travel, and being a merchant offered the chance at some form of income. But like any man or woman of his age, fame was the dream at the top of the pillar. Capturing and killing a dragon was the epitome of striking a line of ceruleum - a veritable gold mine.

Upon their arrival at the checkpoint of their break, they were greeted and were bid farewell to by the next patrol to make rounds. A few others remained, manning the station that was supposed to treat any wounds or exhaustion created by the strenuous routes. Maximiloix took the chance to plop himself down by a nearby tree, armour clamouring in rejection of the action. Another sigh left his mouth as he stripped his gauntlets and boots, laying them beside his discarded lance. "Ald, how do you remain so positive on these patrols? They're troublesome and tiring." He rested his head against the trunk of the tree, using his arms as a pillow crossed behind his head.

"Positive? Have you met me, Maxim? I'm not positive, I'm angry. Bitter, resentful, and angry." A small smile formed on Alderic's face as he pulled off his helmet, letting his longer hair finally free from the heated confines of it. "'Tis the best way to live, brother. I suggest you think of changing your own frame of mind someday. It'll save you a lot of hassle; no one wants to bother the bothered."

The sound of clanking metal sabatons caught the attention of the midlander; the cobbled path sounded like it was being beaten to death by the boots of their comrades. "Formation! Formation!" The lead of the patrol that had just left shouted at the smaller encampment. Before anyone could react to the unfinished warning, massive dragons and aevises crashed down upon them. The head of the patrol had already been slaughtered before their eyes. No one had any time or preparation to gather their bearings; Maximiloix had no time to even grab his weapon. An aevis had trapped him against the tree; but even with the terror in his eyes, he couldn't seem to call for the aide of his comrades - no sound was made as he seemed to almost accept his death right there and then.

He heard the cry of his friend, his brother - oh, Halone, they both could not meet their end there. If one died, the other must live; that was their motto. He had no gloves, yet all he could think to do was throw a punch at the creature in front of him. A distraction, that's all he needed to grab his spear. He could feel the cracking of the bones in his fingers as his fist met with the scales of his foe; the burning of the broken joints had him recoil from his idea. The pain did not end; as he drew his arm back, the sharp teeth of the dragon had caught his forearm. They sank and crushed into his flesh and bone, they broke the chainlinks of his armour and embedded the metal in his muscle. His own cry was let out, he screamed - and he would have begged for mercy if he felt the creature might give him any.

"Grab your weapon - now!" Alderic voice had cut through his fog of pain; he was not yet allowed to embrace death - and his friend had seen to that. The sword of his comrade pierced itself under loose scales, and sliced through the flesh as it's wielder ditched his shield to put all of his weight and force into cutting through it. Maximiloix wasted no time scrambling across the bloodstained grass to grab his lance. But it was useless in his hands; he could not wield a weapon so large without both working arms. He tried, and he faltered, and he tried again, only to have the pain cripple him. So he stood there, watching as one of his few friends put his life on the life to save what Templars he could. Terrified. Angry. Even the gods would tremble at his rage.

He placed the butt of his spear on the ground and smashed his barefoot into the wooden shaft; breaking it down to a smaller, more accessible size; though it splintered into his foot. "Alderic, move! Out of the way!" He warned his brother to back off of what he now considered to be his prize. This was the chance he was waiting for and he was going to kill a dragon if he could, even if it would cost him his life. He held the broken spear as if he were wielding a short-ranged javelin and jumped at the dragon. Pressure pushed the splinters further into his skin, but he couldn't pay any mind to it. Not now, not while his patrol was dying. The shattered bones of his left arm tore through the surface of it as he grabbed onto one of the beast's wings, only for the shortest of moments as he stabbed and forced the spearhead into its eye and skull. And the dragon fell as hard as it landed. He did it, he --

He fell to the ground, tired. Exhausted. He couldn't breathe, the pain caught up to him; he couldn't feel his arm, his foot; all he could feel and hear was his own heartbeat. He was still alive. Barely. His eyes glazed over the field...so many of his patrol was dead. Alderic fell beside him, the heavy thud of his body scared him - worried him. "Ald...Ald, are you--" "Shut up and lie still, Maxim." He didn't need to be warned twice; at this point, playing dead was better than actually being dead. He laid still for what felt like bells, he could hear the bodies of both man and dragon collapse in front of his own; but he did not move. Not that he could if he wished to, the pain was unbearable.

"Son of man...I soared without you..."

A hushed rasp of a growl forced Maximiloix's head to turn to the aevis he had slain. For a moment, he thought he had heard words. For a moment, he thought he had murdered his own kin - the eye of a man, not a dragon - the tears of lost friends and family, not the shriek of a dying beast. Hunted man, and hunted prey. The dragon's claw loosened to reveal a pendant, a symbol of heresy, a symbol of peace. He reached for it, though he knew not what to do, nor what to think.

"Maxim, Max...Maximiloix, wake up - gods damn it all, I can't carry you like this." The grumbles of an injured man bore his entire weight upon his back. He was forced to open his eyes, yet his body would not move. "Ald...Ald, is that--" "Can it, Max. Can you walk?" "I...I can't feel anything..." Alderic cursed under his breath, continuing to trek with his brother on his back; he had traveled some time - and they were almost to Falcon's Nest. It wasn't a large settlement, but at least there would be medics and succor there. Even then, the journey still proved too much for the poor man; and the ground was up to meet him, when his face hit the path. Not even Maximiloix could do much but roll off his back and lay there, staring up at the sky. There were no thoughts to think. No words to give. He grasped at something on his neck - the heretic's pendant; and his eyes witnessed the truth - yet he would not believe the lies and slander of his home. See you at home father - Yah Moh

Yah Moh; the dragon he killed had a child. A family of his own. Like he did. Yah Moh was never going to see his father again - and most Ishgardians would believe that the heretics deserved it. Even the children. By proxy, anyone related to them would be convicted of heresy. Yet...Maximiloix's belief was always that no one should live without family. And wherever this Yah Moh was, he would be ridiculed by his kind for being alone. And it was his fault.

Perhaps they'd meet in the future. Perhaps he could still be forgiven. Perhaps he would give himself up, to be crushed like the broken, dying leaf he was - finally falling from the tree of his faith.

Lesson Number 41: "Only lies are skin deep."

#FfxivWrite2017 #prompt #day 7 #history will be written #about: Maximiloix Voilinaut #the cold truth

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