#I feel like she wouldn’t choose that armor for herself y’know?

[starlightbelle]

I love Rebecca’s character but gosh she needs better armor.

If they make it to Dressrosa in the live-action I hope her armor design is changed. I get it was probably just to make her…ahem…appeal to the boys reading but COME ON

[chaoticallysapphic]

the great divide part five

summary: Who knew that eight words would be your undoing. If you had known then what you know now you wouldn’t have signed up for Suyin’s dance troupe, you probably would have left Zaofu just to be safe. But you didn’t and fate had branded you with a path that chained you to someone who would break your heart.

a/n: just one more part before the epilogue! As always this was beta read by @medeliadracon​ thank you so much for helping me

word count: 6k

You don’t know what you’re doing here, it’s probably a guilty conscience. After Kuvira had Baatar dragged off she finished changing and left for her room to finish fixing herself up. She didn’t even acknowledge you on her way out, probably too shocked at her grand scheme falling apart to process anything. She hasn’t left her room all day and the dinner you had one of the maids give to her had remained untouched outside of her door. 

For now, comforting her would have to wait. You walk down to where they were keeping Baatar, the old jail in the guardhouse that from your knowledge never really got used. Everyone was watching you as you walked down the street, you tried not to let it bother you, even Kuvira’s men were watching with wide eyes. 

Gossip travels fast and you're sure Baatar threw a fit after the shock wore off. You remember General Yin calling you Kuvira’s plaything, how much that hurt because whilst you were her soulmate, that wasn’t far from the truth. But now you're humiliated, everyone must think that of you now. Clenching your fists you let out a deep sigh, opening the door to the jailhouse you slam the door on all those stares that burn into your back. 

The guard inside jumps in surprise at the slam, his eyes widen when they land on you “Y/n! I didn’t know you were coming, what can I help you with?” 

“I’m here to see Junior, please take me to him.” He stiffly nods and walks down the stairs to the cells while you follow a few paces after him. It’s dark inside, the floors are made of wood with walls and ceilings covered in platinum, a perfect cage for a bender, even though Junior was never given such a gift. 

As you walk past you notice some of the cells have people inside them, old citizens of Zaofu. Some seem familiar, whilst others don’t ring a bell. This must be where they are keeping anyone who defied Kuvira’s invasion, a wave of relief washes over you when you don’t see your parents in any of them. 

The very last cell to the right holds the eldest Beifong son, sitting in the corner with his jacket thrown off and his glasses askew. When his eyes meet yours his nostrils flare in anger. “Come to gloat?” You look over at the guard with a raised brow, silently asking for privacy. It takes him a minute to understand before he lets out a nervous chuckle and says “oh, sorry!” 

You wait until he’s out of earshot before replying, “No, in a way I came to apologize.” In all the time you’ve known the annoying man before you, you’ve never really heard him laugh, like a full belly laugh. Baatar throws his head back, the sound echoes and causes some of the people in cells nearby to complain. “I’m serious Baatar, I never wanted to lie nor did I want to keep it a secret for so long.” 

“Did you know she fucked me? Multiple times.” He looks so smug, you feel an anger bubble inside, he must notice because he continues, “did you know she moaned my name as I drove into her?” 

Without even thinking about it you bend a piece of your armor off and wrap it around his mouth, tightly. Your chest moves as you breathe deeply, trying to contain your rage. “I know everything, I also know she only did that to placate you, and that she took her ring off for me! That the nights she wasn’t trying to keep you distracted she was in my bed, screaming my name.” 

This was not supposed to turn out this way, but you can’t seem to stop as you continue, “I also know that she’d choose me over you any day, seeing as I’m her soulmate.” Baatar’s eyes widen, you sigh.

 You rub the bridge of your nose. You didn’t come to act like this, “Look I am sorry about us going behind your back. It may not seem like it but Kuvira does care about you, just as a friend. I never took pleasure in the secrecy or the lies or the sneaking around but… She knew you wouldn’t have helped as just a friend.” 

Pulling the metal off his mouth and back onto your armor, you sigh. He looks so… Defeated. “I’ve loved her since I was thirteen years old.” 

“That doesn’t mean you get to have her,” you say softly. “One day you’ll find the one for you.” 

Baatar scoffs, “no I won’t. I don’t have a mark.” 

“That doesn’t mean you don’t have a soulmate, it just means they haven’t been born yet. I heard your aunt met hers recently and she’s like fifty! So…” You sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry, that’s all I came to say.” 

When he doesn’t reply, you move away, you’ve only taken two steps when he says “Does she know you're lying to her?” Your heart begins to race as you feel like the floor beneath you is on the verge of crumbling into a black endless pit. Slowly you turn to look at him, “Lying about what?” 

“You and I both know you weren’t attacked, General Yin was loyal enough to offer to lay down his life the other day when Kuvira fought the avatar. Besides, those darts leave a bruise.” You tense, just enough for him to see and he chuckles. “I knew it.” 

“I would never betray her,” you spit out before walking off, some of the people in the other cells must have heard the beginning half of your argument because as you march out they all begin to chant “Uniter’s Whore!” You slam the door shut to the jailhouse, making the guard who was slumped over in his chair jump up with wide eyes. “Wh-What happened?” 

You ignore him. Your mind is set on Kuvira, you need to get her out of her room, maybe pry something from her to help you figure out the next step of your plan. The walk back to the Beifong estate isn’t long, a five-minute walk at most but it feels like forever as you continue to push past anyone in your way, everyone around you is a blur at the anger you feel. Fuck Baatar, and y’know what, fuck those other people too. 

When you reach Kuvira’s door, the plate of food is still there, untouched and cold. You pick it up and turn the knob but the door doesn’t move due to being locked. “Kuvira wants to be left alone,” one of the guards at her door says. You roll your eyes, bending the lock before finally opening the door. 

The room is pristine, a part of you expected it to be a mess like the other day after Bolin’s betrayal, you find the cleanliness unnerving. Kuvira’s is bigger than yours, from your knowledge it was once Suyin’s, and the main room consists of a large bed with a floor to ceiling window along with a large wardrobe. 

There’s a table with two chairs and a massive bathroom across from the bed. To the left of the front door is another set of doors, finding that no one is in the bedroom, you push open the door. Inside is an office, and Kuvira is sitting in the towering desk chair made of green velvet and metal. 

She’s so focused on the blueprints in front of her that she doesn’t notice you’ve entered, which is the first sign that something’s wrong. Kuvira is always aware of her surroundings. The second sign is that once you place the food down onto the desk, she still doesn’t look up. “Vira?” 

Her head shoots up, brows pinched in confusion as she takes you in. One of her hands is fisting a blueprint whilst the other remains flat on the table. “What?” You shove the platter of food towards her, she stares at it and then at you, brow quirked. “You need to eat. You haven’t eaten all day.” 

“What I need to do is figure out what to do with Baatar.” You grab the plate of grilled salmon with garlic roasted asparagus and some sort of weird green thing you aren’t too familiar with (apparently the chef here likes to experiment with food?) and place it in front of her, sticking the fork in the salmon for her. “What do you mean?” 

Kuvira glares at the plate of food before looking up and into your eyes, she looks a bit… Defeated. “I needed him for a few more projects. With Varrick gone he is a valuable asset to us. No amount of bribery or blackmailing will get him to work, he’s too stubborn to set aside his pain for this cause now that he knows about us.” 

“What else could he possibly need to build? We’ve united the earth empire, isn’t it time we bask in our victory and usher in a new age of peace for our country?” Kuvira slams her hands against the desk and stands, glaring at you “I have other plans, we have more we can do for everyone! And I needed his engineering to give it to them.” 

You know what she needs him for, you’ve seen it all in her tent with Zhu Li. You can’t let her march onto republic city. “Like what? You’ve kept so much from me regarding this whole operation despite me being your soulmate and dedicating my life and happiness to this cause! So what is so important that you need to keep Junior around for?” 

“Now isn’t the time for your jealousy,” she spits out and you scoff. “My jealousy? I did a damn good job swallowing my feelings for the last three years, meanwhile if someone looks at me for too long you act like I want their attention! I’m just trying to be here for you, so get over yourself!” 

She looks a bit stunned at your rebuttable but you don’t give her the time to fight back. “For someone so worried about me leaving them last night, you sure aren’t trying your hardest to keep me around.” 

Her eyes widen, you feel bad, you do. But you’ve kept your cards close to your chest for far too long. Taking advantage of her stunned state, you grab the blueprint, ripping it out from under the plate. Food flies onto the desk, but you don’t care. It’s the giant mecha suit, but there’s been some alterations to the plans, improvements that weren’t there when Zhu Li copied it. 

“What the fuck is this for?” 

Kuvira rips it out of your hands, the middle tearing a bit, “you want to be in the know? Fine! This isn’t over until Republic City is ours! It used to be earth kingdom land and we deserve to have it back!” You pull at the roots of your hair, letting out a frustrated sound that’s a mixture between a groan and a growl as you spit out, “Careful Kuvira, you’re starting to sound like Azulon!” 

A look of hurt flashed before her eyes before she masked it. “Azulon wanted to conquer lands that weren’t his, this is our land!” 

“It hasn’t been our land for decades! That city is older than us!” Your face is red with anger and her eyes are wild as she stares at you in a complete rage. “You can stop this right now before it’s too late. If you invade Republic City I will never be able to look at you again.” 

“Don’t make me choose between you and my country.” She looks panicked, you sigh as you feel tears drip down your cheeks. “It shouldn’t be a tough decision, Kuvira.” You rarely call her by her full name in private, but you can’t bring yourself to taint a name filled with such love.

You leave before she can lure you back in with her smoky voice and false promises. You slam open her bedroom doors, causing the guards standing by to jump back in fear. You don’t pay them mind as you head to your room, tomorrow you’ll work harder to dismantle this operation before it’s too late. Tonight you can spend your time crying over the impending doom of your relationship. 

Upon entering the room, your heart clenches. Everything is the same as this afternoon, her robe is on the floor, a crumpled heap with the sheets rumpled and two cloths strewn across the room. Images of the night before flash through your mind, what if that’s the last time you’ll ever get to hold her? Or the last time she says she loves you? 

A choked sound escapes your throat as you slide down the metal of the doors until your bottom hits the stone floor. You always promised to stay, you just promised last night. But can you stomach the sight of her if she did that? Could you push all of her wrongdoings aside, all of her crimes, in the name of love? 

Maybe years from now, but you don’t think you can spend such a long time away from her. You aggressively wipe at your eyes, why can’t it be easy? Everyone’s soulmate stories seemed to be full of love with minor to no complications. No one ever mentions this feeling of a million knives stabbing into your heart as you imagine the future you’ll most likely never be given. You’re going to end up alone, one of those freaks whose soulmate didn’t want or didn’t care for enough.

A few hours later you wake up on the cold stone floor with a mild headache, the tears that once rushed down your face have dried. You push yourself up with a groan, you can’t stay in this room for another second so you stand up with wobbly legs and open your door.

 A guard that wasn’t there before is stationed outside, he avoids eye contact and watches you walk out of the house. You numbly walk towards the tram you rode last night, there’s a man at the door waiting for any passengers and when you step up he looks surprised. “Uhh, what do you need?” 

“I need a ride to the encampment,” you say monotonously. You don’t offer a smile nor a glare, just utterly emotionless as you walk onto the tram and sit down, not waiting for a reply. He rushes over to the operating booth, within a minute the doors are snapping shut as the tram jolts into action. This time you do look out the window, wanting to know what she’s done to your city. 

At this hour no one is out of their homes, all tucked away for the night. To a stranger, nothing would be amiss, but you notice the little differences, like the sign of your favorite bakery that has been ripped down and that a window to the right in the very back has been broken. 

All market booths are empty when they usually just have blankets thrown on them at the end of the day. These differences have sucked the life out of Zaofu, leaving in its wake a sad and quiet city trapped under a tyrannical rule. 

When the tram stops at the entrance, you climb off and look at the line of jeeps parked to the side to travel to and fro. The guards warily watch over you as you jump into one, not paying anyone any mind as you speed off down the road. This time you don’t slow down, if anything you go as fast you can, hoping to release some of your anger into the wind.

 Pieces of your hair leave your updo, whipping around as you clutch at the steering wheel. Your mind wanders back to your argument, causing you to let out a frustrated yell as you slam a hand against the wheel, accidentally pressing against the horn. 

You don’t care though, you're alone and still have roughly two miles until you get to the encampment so no one hears you as you let out a scream, then another. The action brings you an ounce of relief which is better than none, you’ll take it. When you reach the camp you slow down so as to not accidentally run into any tents and drive the jeep to the center, turning off the car but leaving the keys in the ignition, you jump out of the car. 

You march towards Kuvira’s tent with clenched fists. Inside most of the papers and maps are gone, so you head to the filing cabinet where you know copies of things reside, when you try to pull it open you find it locked. With a frustrated huff, you bend the metal open, effectively opening up the drawer. 

Inside you riffle through, looking for a map of the encampment that has each tent labeled with what's inside. You find it tucked between the old blueprint of the train and a copy of the invasion plans for Zaofu. Slamming the broken drawer shut you spread the map across the empty table and sigh. 

Kuvira’s army mainly consists of willing participants, but there’s a large portion of people who were forced to join, benders who are valuable to the cause due to their different bending abilities. She had Baatar make a bracelet to put around each of their ankles to keep them from deserting, when you found out about it you didn’t talk to Kuvira for days. 

You wished you hadn’t, but eventually, your resolve slipped and you buried your hatred towards the invention and the poor souls trapped fighting a cause they don’t believe in. The fault with these bracelets was that they could only be metal bent to be taken off without it shocking them. But that worked in your favor. 

Your fingers traced the map, looking for the barracks meant to hold these prisoners. When your eyes land on Barrack 238 a sigh leaves you, you can’t seem to find the second one but you can ask the residents once you get inside. 

You fold the map up until it’s small enough to fit in your pocket and dash out of the tent, thankfully the guards that patrol this encampment seem to have already passed over this section so you can easily sneak behind all the buildings and crates as you make your way across the camp.

Barrack 238 is stationed by the mess hall, in between two barracks for loyal soldiers so that if they ever tried anything people would be nearby to subdue them. Outside the entrance are two guards with their helmets on, ready to fight if necessary. Slowly you bend off two pieces of your armor and shoot them towards their mouths, the force has their heads knocking against the metal behind them, effectively knocking them out. 

You dart across to the door, opening it up you bend off two more pieces that you attach to their ankles and pull them inside in case a patrol walks by. Everyone inside is sound asleep on cots lining both sides of the walls. Quietly you click the door shut, there isn’t a lock on it so you take one of the pieces of metal from an ankle and bend it around the handles, effectively barring entry to anyone who tries. 

You sneak around the room, bending off the bracelets as quietly as possible. It’s on the twelfth one that someone wakes up. The woman whose bracelet you are bending wakes up with a start, you fall back onto your butt and stare at her with wide eyes. She looks terrified, you probably would in her shoes. 

“No please, don’t scream. I’m here to help,” you whisper, crawling forward. She opens her mouth to shout, so you gently grab her cheeks and turn her head to stare at all the broken bracelets at the ends of the beds, along with the two knocked out guards. She rips out of your grasp, her eyes focusing on the guards. “I-I want to help you all, if I can finish getting you guys out of these I can give you all two options.” 

“What options?” Her voice is one of sandpaper and smoke. “You guys can run off into the night to escape together or I can hide these bracelets and you can wait to help revolt.” The bracelets are hidden under their pants so no strangers will know that they are fighting against their will. 

“What revolt?” 

“Whenever you guys see the avatar, that’s when you fight back.” She tenses as she stares you down, “aren’t you Kuvira’s lover? Someone said that you are.” You look down at your lap, nodding. ���Then why are you trying to help us?” 

“Because I shouldn’t have turned a blind eye in the first place, I know my help won’t erase what happened but I want to do what I can to end this.” 

She eyes your cheek, before hesitantly replying “what can I do to help?” 

You have her wake up those you’ve already freed to discuss what to do next, and with each new one, you feel a weight settle on your shoulders. Their lives are now in your hands, if someone finds out what happened you will need to do everything in your power to protect them. Soon enough everyone is awake and huddled together, whispering. You stay out of the way, knowing this isn’t your conversation. This is about their freedom, something you helped take away. 

“We’ll fight,” the woman says, emerging from the crowd, your eyes widen. “Are you sure? I can help you steal jeeps if you want to leave.” 

“We need to make sure they are taken down.” Your gaze flit’s between them, there’s forty of them so you can’t meet the eyes of each one but suddenly you feel like you aren’t as hopeless as before. “If you all are sure, then okay… Do you know where the other barrack is stationed with others… Like you?” You cringe but no one seems to care. “I think on the other side of the camp, they try to keep us apart.” 

You nod, if you at least have a general area you can easily scope it out, it’s the only barrack made out of metal with guards watching over them. You bend open a large hole in the earth, each person grabs the bracelet that kept them chained to a life of fighting and slowly walk to the hole. One by one they drop them inside, each clink of metal is a reminder of what they’ve gone through, what you let them go through. Once the last bracelet is inside you bend the earth until you can’t even tell it’s been touched. 

“What are you gonna do about the guards?” You sigh at that, the sea of people split to show the two men still out cold. “I think I’ll know what to do, you guys go back to sleep and make sure no one sees your ankles.” They all climb back into their respective cots, tucking their blankets under their feet. You bend the metal off the handle and back onto the guy's ankle before opening the door and dragging them out, With a flick of your wrist the door shuts once more. 

Even with bending the guys are heavy enough for there to be a slight resistance that wears on your muscles as you drag them along the dirt. It takes the double it usually would walk up to the guardhouse which holds a makeshift jail. You feel sweat drip down your brow as you grunt, the noise alerts one of the guards standing post outside the guardhouse, his eyes widen as he looks at the men being dragged behind you as you slowly walk over. 

He rushes over, going to take one of the guard's ankles, you let go of the metal you were bending to pull him and sigh. You drop the second man's ankle as well and push loose strands of hair out of your face as they begin to stick to your wet skin. “I-” you pant, “caught these men trying to desert.” 

The guard's eyes widen, “are you sure?” 

“Yes, I found them trying to run off whilst I was driving into camp. They tried to put up a fight too,” 

“I-I am so sorry, we can throw them inside a cell and have them on the next train to the reeducation camps,” he grabs the other man's ankle and starts to drag them into the building. “Please ma’am, go get some rest. We’ll make sure these men are secure under our command.” 

You try not to snort at the usage of ma’am and nod before walking off. You can’t take out the next set of guards the same way you did for the last, it’ll become suspicious that so many men are trying to desert in one evening. The walk to the other side is long, you know it’s late as your feet drag across the ground, but time is of the essence and you can’t forget anyone. The barrack is tucked away behind the weapons tent and jeep depo, once more two guards are standing by. 

You sneak past a tent beside the barrack and run along until you get to the back. You’ll have to be extra quiet for this. Since none of the soldiers inside are earth benders, these barracks are made of bendable metal, most likely in case something goes wrong but also because using platinum would be such a waste on ones who can’t even bend metal in the first place. 

You slowly begin to bend the back open, a small enough hole for you to crawl through, if you go any faster it’ll cause more noise and alert anyone nearby, but this time your intrusion wakes up the person sleeping closest to the wall. They open their mouth to scream so you jump forward and place your hand over their mouth. “I’m here to help,” you whisper. “If you scream, guards will flood this barrack and find a way to blame one of you guys, so be quiet.” 

The loyal ones hated the ones being forced into service, they felt that everyone should be grateful and honored to fight alongside Kuvira. “I want to bend all of your bracelets off and offer you all two options, if I bend off your bracelet can you help keep everyone quiet?” 

He slowly nods, you hesitantly move your hand away, keeping it close for a couple of seconds to see if he’ll try anything. When he doesn’t you bend the bracelet off and guide him over to the person next to him, this process is slower due to needing to be as quiet as possible, it takes roughly an hour to get everyone's bracelets off. Once every one is free you drag them as far from the doors as you can and whisper, “I offered this to the other group. I can either help you escape tonight or you can stay and revolt once you see the avatar.”

“Which one did they take?” a man, no a boy who looks no older than eighteen asks with his arms crossed. 

“To stay and fight.” 

“Then we’ll stay,” says a woman. You offer them a small grateful smile and tell them what you told the last group before opening up a hole. This time you tell them to gently set their bracelet inside instead of tossing them, once done you bend it like before and look up at the group. “Keep your ankles covered, and remember not to fight until you see the avatar.” 

Everyone quietly gets back into bed as you step through your hole and bend it back together. It’s not perfect, there are some ripples and obvious signs of damage but it's the best you can manage. It would need to be welded to be smooth again or bent by someone stronger than you. 

Finally, you can crawl into bed in the old tent that you once shared with Kuvira. Until she comes to you, you won’t set foot in Zaofu. The ball is in her court and you won’t give in. The exhaustion of the day wraps around you as you tuck yourself in. It doesn’t take long to fall into a dreamless sleep. 

That next morning you reluctantly pull yourself out of bed and sigh, you didn’t get any sleep last night due to the lack of her. But there’s more to be done. You bend your armor back on and tie your hair into a simple ponytail instead of the usual tight bun and force yourself to walk out into the morning light. The camp is bustling with men and women rushing around to complete their morning tasks. Some look at you strangely as you pass, most likely surprised to see you back here instead of the city but you brush it off. 

Instead of heading to the mess hall like most people around this time of day you head to the weapons tent. This tent is thankfully left unguarded because only a quarter of her soldiers need them. It’s easy to slip inside and due to Zhu Li, you know where to find a tranquilizer and some darts which you slip into your coat pocket along with a knife. These are the only two things that can remain untouched in this room. 

You go to the first crate full to the brim of weapons and bend the metal on them, curving them until they are irreparable, and move onto the next. It takes more time than you’d like due to using up so much energy last night and not having any food in your stomach but you persist. If someone enters well then you’ll just… Take them out. Maybe you can take them to the other guardhouse to not raise any brows, although they do keep in contact via radio but… Well, you’ll figure it out may the need arise. 

At the last crate, you feel yourself become exhausted from all the energy you’re putting into your bending. You grip the sides of the wood and lean forward, the sweat on your back is making your jacket stick to you. You can take it off after this, you tell yourself. With a grunt, you slowly begin to bend the metal of the weapons, twisting them until you hear the snap of the mechanisms inside breaking. 

Hesitantly you move the flap of the tent just slightly to look outside to make sure the coast is clear. When you exit the tent you head to your own so you can adjust the weapons hidden inside. The sun beats down on you as you weave past others, sweat dripping down your neck. When your tent finally comes into sight you're overjoyed with relief and dart inside. Now that you’re finally alone you carefully take out the gun along with the knife and darts. You place them on your bed and examine them with a hand holding your chin in contemplation. 

Your eyes dart from the knife to the loose sheet you slept with before grabbing it to tear off a long strip. You wrap the blade in it and tuck the loose end into the wrapping to keep it tight. Running a finger down where the edge of the blade is, you press down and don’t feel any pain. Good. You tuck that into your pants and underneath your tank top.

The gun is a different story, you try tucking it into the band of your pants like you did the knife but it’s too noticeable there and too large for your pant pockets, despite them being relatively deep. You bite your lip as you look down at your body, trying to figure what to do when your eyes land on your boots. 

Emptying the barrel of the gun you push the gun into the side of your boot, which is rather uncomfortable might you add, and adjust the hem of your pant leg to help keep it hidden. The darts you stuff in a pocket, it’s a little obvious something is inside but you don’t think anyone will ask. Only Kuvira would and she’s not here.

You think of the mecha suits Zhu Li sabotaged, with all the weapons destroyed their default would be to put the men into suits but now they won’t have enough. You’re suddenly so happy she did that, because now those men are rendered useless. 

Walking out of your tent you head to the mess hall for food, some eye you, looking disapprovingly at your lack of the required bun and jacket but you dare them to try and rat you out. It’s not like you and Kuvira are currently on speaking terms anyway. Instead of grabbing a plate of food you simply grab an apple along with a piece of bacon before heading out. You don’t want to waste time sitting around picking at a plate of half-decent food. 

As you’re walking around trying to find more things to do you pass by the communications tent and pick up a conversation, that familiar raspy voice is a bit static-y but you still recognize her. “Find y/n and send her to my tent.” 

“Of course, great uniter. I’ll tell all my men to search for her.” Oh, she’s decided to grace the camp with her presence and leave her conquered fortress behind? You scoff and walk away, heading to the tent yourself. You don’t want to deal with another man that tries to shove you in one direction like General Yin. 

The tent stands in front of you with a looming sense of dread billowing out of the tent like smoke. Whatever happens inside will decide your future, and that thought scares you. 

With a faltering step, you head to the entrance, slowly moving open the flap. Kuvira is leaning against the front of her desk, looking up at the fabric above. Upon hearing you enter her head snaps down to stare into your eyes. 

With the flap falling shut behind you, you stand in front of the entrance, worried about getting any closer. In the past Kuvira’s mere presence was enough to sway you into singing her name and whilst you felt you were stronger than you used to be, there was still that slight chance of caving at the caress of her hand. 

“I spoke to your parents.” That is not what you were expecting to come out of her mouth. Your brows pinch together in confusion so she continues “I didn’t realize I knew your mom, she helped train me when I first joined the guard.” 

You turn your head, not being able to meet her gaze. “So?”

“She’s a blunt woman, and when I told her about us neither of your parents were pleased.” You wrap your arms around your stomach, are they upset with you? Of whom you’ve become? “But they gave me a piece of useful advice, something I probably could have had use of hearing all those years ago.” 

She slowly walks over to you, hesitantly so. When she’s only a few feet away from you, you finally notice the bags under her hair and the frizziness of her hair. It doesn’t seem like much but Kuvira strives for perfection within herself, a hair out of place meant a flaw in her eyes. 

“That if I love you, it shouldn’t just be me taking from you, but by asking you to hide everything and go along with my plans that was exactly what I did. I realize now I never even asked what you want, what you envision when you see our future.” 

Tears escape your eyes at her words. All these years you’ve eagerly given yourself to her, reminding yourself that one day all your quiet suffering will have been worth it. To hear her admit what she’s done, even if it’s not in-depth, makes you realize how little you’ve received in return. 

“It should be equal. Give and take and be there for each other. There shouldn’t be punishments or silent treatment,” Kuvira pushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “What do you want?” 

Your bottom lip trembles as you squeeze your eyes shut. Flashes of you pursuing dancing, of owning an apartment together and painting the living room in Kuvira’s favorite shade of green. Making dinners together and lazy days spent in bed whispering to one another, afraid to break the gentle peace that’s filled the atmosphere. Of a date in the botanical gardens, a picnic like you’d always wanted since that day you realized who she was. A flower every Friday and a gentle, loving kiss in greeting when returning home from practice. 

You don’t know how to express that dream you’ve held onto these last few years, it’s precious and sacred, something that helped keep you going in the darkest of moments. 

“I want peace,” you say, your voice a mere whisper. But she hears you loud and clear. “I want this all to end and I want us to finally be able to love one another in front of others. I don’t want any of this, I can’t peacefully live in a world where this… this mission is a success.” 

Kuvira takes a step forward, her mouth opening to reply when it happens. A shout, and then gunfire.

[ambistep]

Summer Rain

Sidestep’s never painted her nails before. Anathema’s got her covered. Maybe. Then things get a little more serious.

Retribution spoilers

~ ~ ~

Rain like this, on summer afternoons in Los Diablos, is rare. The sun is blistering hot, you know - but it’s all veiled by cloud cover. If you went outside, the raindrops would be weirdly warm - but you can just stay in. It’s the best - everything is slower, quieter, when it rains. People talk softer, without even thinking about it. Their thoughts are gentler, calmer. 

Watching it streak down in rivulets out the window, you start to sit up, feeling light headed. Where had y- oh.

She’s watching you, those big green eyes, always on the verge of a laugh - even when she’s sad. “You’re awake.” You’d been waiting in her bedroom for her to get back.

“Must’ve fallen asleep. Rude of me, I apologize. Did you just get back?”

“You shouldn’t apologize - I got tied up doing, y’know, Ranger stuff.” She rolls her eyes. Media stuff, she means. “And if you do apologize, just say like, ‘sorry’, and I’ll be like, ‘no problem.’ You’re so formal.”

You say the only thing you can, “Sorry.” You both laugh, but she laughs first. Biting your lip, you hesitate to ask - what if she forgot? “Did you bring everything?” 

Her foot knocks the brown bag on the floor, “All right here.”

“Did everything go alright?” She hates the PR stuff - well, you know she hates the stupid PR stuff. She never minded when it was for a good cause.

“What? With the press? Sure. Same stuff. Mostly. I just hate that I had to do it - I bailed twice last week when it was my turn to talk, and the Marshal would’ve gotten all pouty if I skipped the interview this time.” The small bottles clack together as she removes them from the bag, your eyes drawn to the variety of colors. “Some clown reporter asked me about you. Asked if you were an alien. Like out of Area 51.” Your laugh rings a little hollow. New Mexico is still too close to Nevada for your liking.

You strip off your boots, your socks and pull your feet up on the bed, torn between watching the rain out the window or the fish swimming in the coolly lit aquarium on the wall and the tropical fish inside. “Did you get new fish for the tank?”

Themmy shrugs, “I don’t have any fish.” She glances over her shoulder at the fish tank, confused for a moment. “That’s not mine.” Then goes back to laying out a towel.

^It’s mine.^ A whisper at the base of your skull explains helpfully.

“What’s this?” Themmy take your hands in hers, touching, skin to skin, safe like this. Feels good. The brush is surprisingly cool on the surface of your nails, just a little bit. Strange sensation.

“Base coat. Makes it last longer, keeps you from staining the cuticle.” She uses more care than you’re used to seeing out of her, more precision.

“Base coat, got it.” Learning all the time, new things. 

“So what’s the deal? Were you home-schooled?” She glances up at you, then looks back down at your nails, orange curls hiding her face - but you know she’s smirking. “Sidestep’s better at dodging questions than punches, so I waited til I started the base coat.”

You almost tug away your hand, pouting a little. 

She gets to be smug, “How’s that? Chen thinks he’s the tactical one.”

“Fine.” You sigh in defeat, “Something like that.”

She looks back down, going back to work, “I thought so. I knew a guy who was homeschooled, by like some real tyrant, draconian-ass parents. He always moved around like he was afraid he might break something, or someone would yell at him.” She means you do that. 

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t like that.” You can’t begin to explain what it was like.

She shrugs, “Chen said he thought you were at a military academy or something.” What did you do to give him that impression? “I can kind of see it.”

You smirk, trying to deflect with a joke, “What, do you guys sit around and talk about me? That’s weird.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re weird,” she teases. “What color did you figure on?”

“The purple - not the bright one… yeah, the Royale one.” You liked that color, purple venturing into grey. Something felt good about… choosing it, putting it on you, you remember. You will remember. Because this is happening now. 

“Oh, that’s good. Cooler undertones suit you maybe.” Cooler undertones suit you. Something to remember. Anathema is full of good advice and… well, you can trust her. You’re learning so much.

“So, what else can I ask our mystery girl while I have her tied down?”

You wrinkle your nose, “People like a girl with a little mystery, right?”

“Sure.” You catch a glint of green through the curls again, her eyes stealing a glance up, “What kind of people were you thinking about?”

You aren’t sure what to say, and don’t have a wry answer ready.

“Marshal-kind of people?” Oh, she’s the worst.

Heat rises in your cheeks. You can only mutter back, “I’m glad you’re invulnerable, so I can hit you.”

“Not till you’re dry.” She unscrews the Royale polish, the purple you chose, and begins work, “You should stop wearing gloves - you’re going to want to show these off, because they’re going to be fiiii~erce.” Themmy chuckles to herself, then frowns.

Hm. You spotted it too. “That’s not what you said.”

“Who cares?” She gives a huffy sigh, continuing to focus on your nails.

“God, what was it… I forgot.” You search through your mind, trying to remember. Why can’t you remember? This is important. This day was important. You can’t just forget. Come on, Mina.

Themmy pauses in painting the nails, looking up at the ceiling as she tries to recall, “Maybe it was something about… snacks? Or was it still about Julia.”

You shake your head, lips quivering, trying to take a normal breath, “No, that wasn’t it.”

“Oh, hey, come on, Mina, don’t cry.  We were having a nice afternoon.” She still holds your wrist in one hand, and the nail polish in the other. She grins reassuringly, “C’mon, you big baby, I have to finish this coat.”

“Don’t patronize me,” you let her go back to painting, even if it makes no sense, “You’re not even her.” Bitterness running through you.

“I mean, I could be.” Her voice gets conspiratorial, dropping low, “Think about it, Mina. You’re a telepath - maybe like, a piece of my mind got mixed up in yours, like a stowaway or something.”

“Oh, shut up!” You snort a little, laughing through your eyes tearing up. “That doesn’t even make any sense.” How could she do that still, tell a joke that made you laugh?

She beams all victorious-like, now that she’s gotten a laugh out of you, “Hey, look, you’re the expert.”

“It’s awful but… At least if that were true, you wouldn’t really be gone.” Just trapped in your head, like that’s better. “I’d be carrying you with me. ...I like that idea, somehow.”

She nods, adopting an air of mysticism, “Oh, I know you do.”

“Come on, quit doing that ‘I’m you or am I’ thing, idiot.” You kick her with your foot, snickering.

She doesn’t quit, “Maybe you like it when I do it.” 

You laugh again, in spite of yourself. “Shut up! Stupid! You’re going to mess up the polish.”

But your nails are done - you wish they weren’t, and that you could sit here, longer, with the rain rolling down the windows of the old Rangers compound. This perfect summer afternoon should last forever. 

Anathema is smiling still, but it’s a sad sort of smile. You have to look away, because you can’t think about her being sad. But you can’t not think about it now. Her voice goes soft, “What are you even doing, Mina?”

You flop back on the bed, letting your head dangle off the edge, as you watch the fish swim through the aquarium, so many tropical colors flitting around. Finally, you recognize it. “Oh. Her aquarium.” That’s where the aquarium came from. In your dreams now? That can’t be good.

Your hands dangle off the bed with you, arms stretched past your head, circling back to the question. “Is that Themmy asking, or me?” 

She flops down beside you, propping her head up with her hand. “Maybe you’d be honest with her. With me? Whatever.”

“I… I have a plan. I had a long time to think about it.”

“Is it a good plan?”

“No,” you admit, “probably not.”

“When were our plans ever any good?” Her laugh comes easy.

“I just need time to set everything up.” You walk through the plan, for what must be the ten thousandth time, but this time, explaining it for Themmy. Except it’s still for you. Maybe. “I draw out my enemies. My real enemies, expose them. I have to make sure the Rangers are strong. Sharp. Keep them interested. I need them to be ready, because when it really matters, they’ll do the right thing.” They’re heroes. At least, you still think so. “I know they will.”

Themmy probes the inside of her cheek with her tongue, maybe a bit more skeptical, “You think they’d help fight the Special Directive? The Farm?”

You frown, glancing over at her, “Hey, you’re not supposed to know about them.”

“Oops. Maybe it’s like psychic osmosis or something?” She’s full of shit - but if she is, then she’s you, and that would mean you’re f- yeah, you know what? That tracks. 

“But yeah… It’s a trap. All of Los Diablos is going to be the trap when I’m done with it. There’s… There’s a lot of moving parts, so many moving parts.” It makes your head hurt, trying to keep track of every little thing, of your time table. “But I’ll be the bait - they won’t know it’s me, but they won’t be able to ignore Clarity any longer.” You flex and unflex your fingers, wisps of smoke, of thought, gathering around your hand, the freshly-painted purple nails now obscured by the heavily armored imperial purple gauntlet of Clarity’s armour. 

The anger, the heat bleeds into your voice. You know what it makes you sound like, you don’t care. “When they stick their nose out, when they’re close. Then they’ll learn. Then they’ll know.” Fear creeps into your voice, just the thought of it. Themmy’s brows look a little concerned. “And then, one last time, they’ll underestimate me - and I’ll set their world on fire, and drag them screaming into the daylight, and everyone will see what real monsters look like.” 

“Huh. Sounds easy.” The long-dead Ranger flops down, looking at the ceiling now, “Did you practice that?

“Ha. ...maybe a little.” You thought about it all the time. 

She frowns, “Why though? Why do any of that? You could just… fuck off to Denver, play the stock market. Buy a nice house and never take your shirt off.” 

Right. You purse your lips, “Themmy wouldn’t ask why. Maybe she wouldn’t agree, but she would know why.”

“I would understand, wouldn’t I?” She doesn’t smile, but she doesn’t argue. “...Hope you know what you’re doing.” You have no idea what you’re doing. “Don’t hurt nobody, Step.”

Another voice, a third voice. “Qué - está durmiendo?” A hand on your shoulder. You jolt forward - the rain is pounding on the roof of the van - but the van’s stopped. Pelayo’s rough scars are a poor substitute for Anathema’s freckles, but he’s here, and she’s not.  “Boss, we got seven minutes til Masks Up, you good?” 

Right. You’re Clarity right now. You run a hand over your face, nails through your hair, sliding back into the body language, the ego, that swagger. Reaching for your helmet, you flash that steely-eyed stare to the rest of the crew, “Alright. We stick to the plan.” Simple as that. 

[midzelink]

"#listen i know exactly how these two meet and how they start dating and it's beautiful and i LOVE THEM" Please tell me everything!

(( in reference to the tags I made on this Ilia x Ashei art ))

HOO, BOY, OKAY - where to begin?  A lot of this is going to be stuff that I didn’t really want to make a post about, because my hopes were that I would eventually write their meeting and eventual dating into a multi-chapter fic of sorts (called “Love & Horses,” and there’s good reason for that, I swear), but I struggle with writing enough as-is, and by the time I do (if ever) get around to it, this post will absolutely be lost to time - so, what the heck!  Lemme gush a little bit.  Some of this I’ve already written about in the description of this wedding piece I had commissioned, but I’ll expand on it a bit here. (Also, shoutout to @therealflurrin for inspiring a lot of this - we somehow fell in love with these two independently of one another, which just goes to show how much potential these two have. Spread the Iliashei love!)

So, what’s important to understand about Ashei (and this is all just my headcanon, of course) going into this is that she was raised alone by her father in the Hebra Mountains, with very sparse and sporadic human contact outside of him.  As she says in-game, he was a “knight in his own right,” and he “taught [her] the arts of war as though [she] was his son” - he taught her how to wield a sword, but unfortunately for her, that was pretty much all he taught her.  He was a troubled man haunted by the ghosts of his past, perhaps, but he was a terrible father, and when Ashei was only fifteen years old she bested him in battle and ran away from home. She was on her own for quite some time, surviving in the harsh wilderness of the frozen wilds, but she did so aimlessly; all she had was her sword, and with nowhere else to turn, she eventually found her way to Hyrule proper, choosing to enlist as a knight solely because she would have a roof over her head and some money in her pocket.  She was only sixteen at the time - she lied and told them she was twenty - and when she bested every captain in the entire royal guard in a single evening, they agreed to take her in.

Another important thing to note is that Ashei’s arrival in Castle Town (and one particular encounter with Princess Zelda herself, but that’s a story for another time) awakens The Gay within her; she’s never really been around so many people before, let alone women her own age.  This has some interesting side effects, namely that Ashei has no idea how to talk to or behave around women, and it plays into the first time she and Ilia (improperly) meet.

So, picture this: a short time after the events of the game, Ilia travels back to Castle Town to visit Telma, whom she bonded following her kidnapping and memory loss.  Ashei is sitting in the bar, sipping on some ale, and she hears someone come in and begin chatting; she thinks nothing of it, of course, until she takes a quick little peak -

- and sees the most drop-dead gorgeous person she has ever seen in her entire life.

She panics.  Face goes completely red, she hides her face in her hand, nearly drops her ale.  Her fight her flight instincts kick in, and she chooses flight, rushing out of the bar before the girl can even notice her, let alone speak to her - and though it’s a few days before she can get the image of her out of her head, eventually things go back to normal, and Ashei finds comfort in the fact that she’ll probably never see that mystery girl again.

Except, y’know - she does.  Because of course she does.

Fast forward a bit, Hyrule Castle is a still a mess of being rebuilt, and the people need something to keep their spirits up - so Zelda is like, f**k it!  Dance time!  An outdoor ball, in the afterglow of twilight, with food and live music and all what have you.  Ashei attends in a full set of royal armor, complete with helm and all the fixings, as she’s only there on guard duty, but just as soon she thinks the night is going to end without incident, who do you think she sees sitting all alone, and does she looks slightly sad or is that a trick of the light, and oh my gods that dress is lovely, was it handmade, did she make it, and what are the chances she would see her again -

Ashei is still quite flustered, of course - only this time it’s different, because here, she isn’t herself.  Here, she’s just a nameless solider among many - she could be anybody - and somehow, someway, she musters up her courage to approach the young woman…and offers her hand in dance.

And I think now would be a good time to talk about Ilia’s side of things; we know a lot more about her story, of course, but it’d probably be good to mention that, yes, she did love Link - and perhaps, once upon a time, he could have loved her, too, but after everything that happened, he was unable to readjust to life back in Ordon, and as we see in the final credits, he leaves, in a scene that tells us almost certainly that he only said goodbye to her.  Ilia goes through quite a lot both during the game and in the months after; romance aside, Link has always been her closest friend, and suddenly he’s so distant from her.  It’s difficult to handle, and as she watches him leave after a few months of struggling with this, with no idea of when or if he’ll return, I guess you could say that she fell out of love out of necessity; he was, and always will be, a very dear friend to her, but the weight of what had happened to both of them had changed them, and their relationship would never be exactly the same as it once was.  It pains her - but she accepts it, and moves on.

So, Link is AWOL for a while, yeah?  Ilia has a lot going through her mind, and like Ashei did before she found a good friend in Shad and a makeshift home in the Resistance, she feels aimless.  On top of that, she’s still dealing with the trauma that being kidnapped had saddled her with, and what sticks with her the most is how helpless she felt waiting for someone else to save her.  Then wouldn’t you know, one day she gets a letter from Telma inviting her to festivities to be held in Castle Town, and Ilia makes up her mind about something.  She packs up her things…and sets off.

The night of the festival, Ilia does take the hand of that mysterious stranger - and as they dance it’s wonderful and magical and lovely and for a time she forgets all of her troubles, but before she can see their face or even learn their name they’re gone, leaving her wanting and curious.  Some time passes, and the festivities come to and end; Ilia makes for Telma’s Bar, where Shad, Ashei, and Auru are unwinding from the night’s events.  Telma introduces the younger woman to the gang, and Ashei almost begins to panic, before she realizes that Ilia would have no way of recognizing her, that Telma was just introducing them to a friend, that this would pass and be done with in no time at all, but then -

“I want to join the Resistance!”

And Ashei is just like,

Ah.

Ah, shit.

This post is getting rather long, so I’m gonna try to wrap things up here - but as you can imagine, hijinks ensue!  Things reach a climax when Ilia insists that Ashei teach her how to fight, and Ashei lashes out and flat-out refuses in a burst of anger, which triggers an episode of “oh my god am I turning into my father oh f**k no” and sends her running, truly panicking this time; Ilia runs after her, of course, and when she finally finds her they get to talking.  Ilia tells her that whatever it is that’s bothering her, she doesn’t have to open up about it now, or tomorrow, or any time soon, but if she ever wants to, she will be there to listen - and then Ilia opens up, about why she joined the Resistance, about her kidnapping and her scars and the horror she’s endured.  She chooses to be vulnerable where Ashei cannot, and then suddenly the mood is lighter, and Ashei is sheepishly admitting that she couldn’t teach her how to fight because she likes her too much, gods be damned, and Ilia is joking about how she never knew she liked girls till now because there were none her age growing up in Ordon, and Ilia thought Ashei liked Shad and Ashei thought Ilia liked Link, except Shad doesn’t like women and Ashei doesn’t like men and Link has been gone for months now, and oh, aren’t they both so stupid - and then they hear music, and Ilia stands and offers Ashei her hand, and in that moment both of them know, y’know?  Ashei still has a lot of stuff she’s got to work through, and it’s not going to be easy by any means, but for now, she can do this much - so she takes Ilia’s hand and the two of them dance into the night, pushing aside their worries till morning’s light.

Do the two of them start dating pretty much immediately?  Yes.  Do they love one another completely and utterly?  Absolutely.  Do they get married and is their wedding super, duper gay?  You bet your ass it is.

There’s a lot more to this that I won’t get into here, including Link’s eventual return (after three years of being away!) and the aftermath of that, and the exact specifics of Ashei’s troubled history with her father and how being with Ilia helps her to heal from it.  On the plus side, Bo becomes like the father that Ashei never had, and fun fact: the two like the arm wrestle!  Like, a lot!  (And Ashei sometimes lets him win.)

[ambersky0319]

Cinomed Chronicles : The Rulers

Masterpost

Chapters : Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three |

Summary : In the far off world of Fandahli are kingdoms, most peaceful. But on one continent, Vola, two kingdoms are fighting a war that seems never-ending with both rulers constantly at a sword’s end. And on Earth, where things seem to be going well for everyone, one young woman suffers a torture worse than death. Another woman not far away waits for death, all hope gone until a spark ignites her will to fight once more. It isn’t long until their tales intertwine.

Taglist : Haha- no one reads my original content but if you’re interested in this story I’ll gladly make one!

————————————————–

Not an effort-filled picture but it sums up this chapter- dear god help her

————————————————–

To say that people were overworking themselves to please the Hayes family was an understatement.

Always rushing around the halls, servants bending backwards to keep their visitors happy. It was astounding to Evanna how quickly the mood in her kingdom shifted, even if it happened annually. The chefs were doing their best to make the food perfect and every time the words ‘your majesty’ left someone’s mouth while addressing Evanna, she felt like a new layer of dirt coated her skin.

She needed to keep the smile though, she refused to let it slip. When the King and Queen of Hayes - the rulers of the largest kingdom in Vola - visited you, you have them nothing but smiles and anything they asked. All the smaller kingdoms knew that messing with them would have been a grave mistake, quite possibly the last mistake they'd get the chance to make.

But within the walls of her study, she was safe. Enchanted long ago by one of her ancestors, only she could enter unless specific permission had been granted. Even in her room people would waltz in to tell her about some news, constant guards needing a decision to be made. Her study was untouchable in comparison.

Evanna poured herself over books, skimming their titles until she found the proper one. Some so old their covers could break if pulled too swiftly off the shelf, others new with the font shining harshly in the soft candlelight. Sometimes, if she felt enough inspiration, she'd add to her own books. Evanna filled the pages with poems, some long and some short.

Seldom able to visit her beloved escape, Evanna cherished her time there more than ever. Even if it was for only a short time. If she managed to read or write one line, she felt at ease.

There was a knock at the study's door, the sound echoing through the bookshelves and only making her headache worse. Still she rose to her feet, the knock anything but unfamiliar. Pulling a smile she could only imagine to look as forced as she thought, Evanna answered.

She slipped out and let the door click shut behind her, meeting Gideon's gaze for the twentieth time in the past few hours. "Your Majesty, if I may, why do you only choose to try and find me when I find time for a break?"

The King laughed, just as loud as about anything else he did. Evanna pretended to laugh along, before her smile faltered a bit. "But really, what is it that I can help you with?"

"It's the guards, they refuse to let us see the Traitor this year."

Evanna's smile disappeared completely, and she folded her arms over her chest. She still felt weird, not wearing the light but tight metal armor.

"As they should. No one but the royal chef, Erin, and myself are permitted to speak with him."

"Was it not different last year?"

"That was last year, your Majesty. A lot can change in one year." Evanna clamped her hands together. "I apologize that you cannot actually see Kendle today. But you should start getting excited, the hanging's in two days after all."

The words slipping past her lips burned, tasting of ash worse than what lingered outside. Evanna hated the fact that she needed to encourage people to be excited for the Hanging. She frowned, glancing around at the lack of guards. "Where are they all? They normally don't leave their posts without instruction."

"They went to help the rest of Tongyi in the festivities." The King held his head high, a sense of pride radiating off him. "Under my instruction, after all. They needed to stretch their wings."

Evanna really, truly wished it wasn't Kendle they'd be hanging in a few days.

"Very well then," her smile was tight and her voice strained slightly, "if you'll excuse me, I must go get-"

Bells ringing drowned out the rest of her words, a confused and almost pained look appearing on Gideon's face as they chimed louder and louder. Then silence swiftly followed, and Evanna rushed past the king to her room just down the hall. He was hot on her tail.

"What's happening? Oh stars I can still hear those blasted bells-"

"Stay. Here." Evanna was suddenly in her armor, having it on faster than any guard Gideon had ever seen. Her sword glinted dangerously as she opened the nearest window. "And for once, actually listen!"

Before Gideon knew it, Evanna had flung herself from the castle, wings extending and she disappeared from his sight.

She looked over the kingdom, looking for where they’d been attacked. Evanna’s heart pounded in her ears. No one ever told Gideon what to do, but she had little faith in his combat techniques. The queen cursed under her breath, finding no new breach in the walls and no guards. No Sadian was in sight, nor any other scouts or soldiers from other kingdoms. Evanna however did see a child be pulled into a nearby house, and she landed in front of it. The bells had stopped chiming - whoever had shot the warning arrows was nowhere to be seen - and instead a silence cascaded over her small kingdom.

She knocked on the door, sword gripped almost too tightly in her hand. Her shoulders already ached, her legs prickling as medicine wore off.

Of course, Evanna thought almost bitterly as she knocked again. Need to keep up with it.

The door opened with a creak, and an elder Dali peaked out at the queen. She blinked almost owlishly at Evanna, noticing how the younger woman was becoming impatient.

“Ah, my queen!” She finally cried, her eyes seeming to widen more. “Is- Is he gone yet? Did they get ‘em?”

“Get who?” Evanna opened the door further, casting a glance down the street just in case. “And where are all the guards?” The elder opened her mouth, before being cut off by a sudden wail from inside. She left the doorstep immediately to aid, cooing softly at the child. Evanna huffed silently. “Mara! Where are my guards? I heard the bell and-”

“Your majesty! Please!” Evanna jumped as a young man appeared beside her, dozens of blankets bundled in his arms. “Keep your voice down, no one knows that we’re all here, alright? And we just got the babies to sleep.” He closed the door, effectively trapping Evanna inside with them. Then he passed off the blankets before giving all his attention to Evanna. “The guards are all after the Traitor, as well as whoever broke him out.”

“Kendle escaped?” Evanna hissed, despite any relief she would have normally felt, she knew Kendle was not one to just let out of your sight. “Surly someone saw him leave the dungeons.”

The man shrugged, hugging himself and casting a solemn look at the quieting child. “Mama Mara was the only one around, and then there was an explosion in the forest and some shouts and all the guards left- y’know, since most are still in the medical ward healing. Mama Mara can’t seem to recall who it was, though. I’m sorry.”

“Which way did they go?”

He frowned. “My queen, you cannot seriously be thinking of-”

“Tell me where they went. That’s an order.”

“East,” he sighed.

Evanna was out the door within seconds, taking off once more. She squinted, seeing no smoke towards east. However there wasn’t any smoke in any other direction either. A shiver shot up her spine as the sun began to dip behind the horizon, painting the land gold.

"Great," she muttered, "just great." After dark, she knew they wouldn't be able to return home. No one ever made it back after dark until the next morning, sometimes they just never came back.

After flying for a short time, she heard distant shouts and flew closer to the canopies. The sun was sinking faster and faster below that distant line. The voices got louder and louder but it was clear it wasn't all the guards that left.

She just hoped they'd turned back.

Evanna tucked her wings in and covered her face as she dove into the treetops, catching herself on a branch. Peering down at who were arguing, her voice caught in her throat.

Kendle, tied up and screaming at the top of his lungs. A small fire not far away- a camp. And then four of her guards, two arguing, one watching over the escapee, and the other had his hands clamped over his ears. Evanna squinted at the supposedly deranged man, wings clamped to his sides. Tears streamed down his face as he ripped his vocal chords. 

"He's coming! Thanks to you he's coming! It's all your fault! He's coming!" Kendle choked out another sob, shaking his head frantically. "He's coming…"

Kendle spotted Evanna, eyes widening at the sight of her. He fell silent. Evanna jumped from her branch, landing with just a small thud. Her gaze flicked to the guards, the arguing two having also fallen silent. All four watched Evanna as she crouched in front of Kendle, reduced to a shaking mess of tears.

"Hey Kendle…" Evanna's voice was soft, the tone you'd use to calm a distraught child. The guards took a step forward, then another, only halting as Evanna raised a hand. Kendle bowed his head, clamping his mouth shut in an attempt to silence himself.

"Your- You- My queen, I'm- help-"

She shushed him lightly. "Deep breaths." Evanna placed her hand on his shoulder, rubbing lightly. He melted under her touch - how long had it been since anyone had even come near him? - and took deep breaths, still trembling violently. 

"Now, relax. Okay? You'll feel better." He nodded slowly, looking up through his bangs. She brushed his hair aside, moving to sit beside him. "Whenever you're ready, you can explain, alright?" Kendle nodded again, his wings twitching slightly.

"Your Majesty, why are you being nice to this… this traitor?" The guard's voice was young and hushed as they gazed upon Evanna and Kendle quietly.

Evanna didn't even look away from their prisoner. "Kendle-" she stressed his name, "-is still Dali. Traitor or not. Besides, if we ever want information, we need him calm."

One of them snorted. "This guy? Calm?" Evanna ignored him, instead she moved her hand to rub at the joints between his wings.

Kendle's spine straightened at the contact, before he slumped into Evanna's side. She cooed gently. "You all must be tired. Sleep."

"But what about-"

"I'll take first watch, everyone just rest up, alright?"

"Yes, my Queen."

Like a young child, Kendle had fallen into a deep slumber in seconds. Evanna's skin crawled at the thought of putting this young man to death. And for what? She never knew. It was always the people that chose who would be that year's Traitor. Her guards were more hesitant to sleep, deciding to lay down on the opposite side of the campfire.

Evanna exhaled slowly, feeling the stabbing pain that shot through her shoulders. Kendle began to shake in his sleep, curling further into her side and under her wing. It was going to be a long night.

She had only gotten an hour of sleep by the time the sun began to rise. The fire had dwindled until it was nothing but ash, and the only one to wake up during the night was Kendle.

He shifted against the tree, a light groan escaping him, stomach twisting tightly as hunger raked through his body. Kendle squinted at Evanna, who had moved away from him in favor of stretching her wings out. He bowed his head again, feeling the rope burn his tanned skin.

"My queen, he's coming. Surly you know. He's coming on my death day- he will not hold back." Evanna frowned at his words, looking back and tilting her head.

"Who's coming?"

Kendle swallowed thickly, his mouth dry. "You don't know…?" Evanna shook her head. His eyes grew wide. "No, no no no no no. That… that's not good. Oh stars that is not good."

"Uh, Kendle?" He snapped his head up, eyes brimming with tears. Evanna crouched in front of him. "What's not good about who coming?"

"I can't- if, if I say he'll kill me."

"You're already going to die, Kendle. People want to see you hanged. What can be worse than that?"

He shook his head and made an attempt to reach out, grasp her shoulders, but failed as the rope rubbed harshly against his skin. "So much- so much is worse than hanging…"

"Fine," Evanna sighed. "You don't need to tell me who's coming. But who let you out?"

Kendle remained quiet for a moment. "Why was I thrown in there in the first place?"

"Huh?"

"The cell- why did they even- Jonah!" Kendle lit up suddenly, jolting in his restraints. "That's why I escaped! Jonah- where's that boy? I didn't see him leave. My queen, where's Jonah?"

"Jonah…?"

"Or for Rikki's sake!" Kendle lurched forward at Evanna, catching himself before he could collapse. "Jonah! That little… that little prince! The one with sharp teeth! That little brat let me out and then booked it-"

His shouting had finally woken her guards, and he only continued to struggle in his bonds. "Please, you must help me find him- he will make him come! Jonah is making him appear!"

"Kendle, sit back and-"

"If you say relaxed, I swear to every deity out there, you will be bitten."

"Oi! That's it, you do not threaten the queen!"

"I have a sword too, sir."

"That doesn't mean-"

"Stay out of it-"

"But he-"

"No!"

Evanna stared down the guard that had drawn his sword. The guard slowly backed off, and Evanna released her tight grip on her own weapon. Exhaling slowly she looked back to Kendle.

"This is Prince Jonah we're speaking of, yes?" Kendle nodded hurriedly. "He let you out."

"Moments after an-"

"-explosion?"

"Yes! Yes! I never said I wanted out! The boy claimed he could let me out and then the guards were hot on our trail, and it was nearing dark and then they caught me but I couldn't see Jonah and then you appeared and… and…" Kendle shook his head, hands starting to shake. "Please, we must find him. He will make everything so much worse."

The guards stared on in utter disbelief as Evanna got to her feet. "I'll find the prince. You four," she barely even blinked at the guards, "make sure Kendle gets back to the castle. In one piece. And give him food. Understood?"

"Yes, your Majesty," echoed back to her. Evanna took off without another word.

In the light of the sun, it was far easier to see where the explosion had occurred.  The flames had clearly been controlled since no more remained, the ash heavier than any place in Tongyi. She lowered herself over the destruction sight, wings causing a small flurry of burnt tree to fly up into the air. Evanna couldn't remember what was around this place.

She finally landed, the ground far too soft and flaky. With each step more ash blew into the air. The trees still standing were scorched black, and the ground fared no better. Evanna almost started choking on the ash when she took a deep breath.

Her skin pricked nervously when there was a small snap, clearly not a snap of a fallen branch. Hand resting on her hip, just near her sword, Evanna began her walk towards where she'd heard the sound. She tried to keep her footsteps quiet, occasionally slowing to look at something. No noise followed the small snap, none that she found out of the ordinary at least.

Her sword was drawn as she rounded the tree, fully prepared to strike. The gold faltered when a small squeal of fear greeted her, a small creature cowering away and closer to the bones of-

Oh.

She sheathed her sword, recognizing the child as a werewolf. They weren't uncommon after all, but most werewolves stayed with their clan. They were covered in ash, fur color indistinguishable. Soft whimpering escaped them as they shuffled closer to the tree.

Evanna glanced around, spotting no adult werewolf. She frowned, looking back to the pup. "Alright, um, I'm not going to hurt you, okay? Here." She removed the sword from her hip, setting it as far away as she could. 

The pup still watched her in terror. Evanna let out a soft sigh. "Was… was this your village?" The pup whimpered again. "Is there anyone else?"

The young werewolf looked back to the remains of the undoubtedly older werewolf, ears drooping and tail curling around themselves. Evanna took that as a no. "Can you speak?" A nod. “Are you willing to speak?” The pup shook their head.

She looked back to the burned village. How just an explosion could have caused this she didn’t know. If she had time, she would have tried looking for more survivors. “I’m from Tongyi, do you want to come with me?”

The pup hesitated, looking over towards what Evanna could only assume to be more remains. Charred flesh doused in ash greeted her when she followed the pup’s gaze. Then they nodded, taking a careful step towards Evanna, then another.

“I’m going to carry you, alright?” Evanna reached for the pup, waiting for the nod before picking it up. It curled into her chest, smearing the ash deeper into its fur and leaving a light coat upon Evanna’s chest plate. Evanna took a slow breath, grabbing her sword once more and taking off as carefully as she could. The pup yipped as the air rushed by them, starting to shake in Evanna’s arms. She held them a bit tighter, staying relatively close to the treetops.

Finally, after almost three hours of flying as slowly and carefully as she could, Evanna landed at Tongyi’s gate. The air was still stained with ash, but it was still far better than breathing in the heavy smoke and fresh ash from the destroyed forest. Her lungs hurt, and she could only imagine how terrible the pup felt, fast asleep in her arms and coughing occasionally. Evanna’s wings ached, every movement like a dull knife stabbing into her back.

“Evanna!” She looked up, feeling the grogginess finally hit her. She cracked a smile as Erin jumped from the wall, landing in front of her without much trouble. “Where in all of Vola have you been?”

Evanna knew Erin wasn’t furious, not really - but the show he put on for their visiting monarch was quite convincing. Hands on his hips, eyes narrowed, all the while a hint of worry and excitement glinted in his eyes. The pup stirred, a small whine escaping them, and Evanna just nodded for them to head inside the kingdom. “I’ll let you know once I take care of this little one.”

“Is that a-”

“Yes, now pipe down before you wake them.”

Erin walked beside Evanna, peering at the pup curiously. He kept his voice low as they walked to the medical ward, where Evanna believed the nurses could look over the child and be sure they were still healthy. “Kendle was brought back three hours earlier, why did this take you so long?”

“Long way from the explosion to where I found Kendle and the guards,” she hummed. Erin slowly nodded, holding the door open to the medical center of Tongyi. "Hey Dolan?"

The healer in question looked up sharply, eyes widening for just a moment before narrowing. "Queen Evanna Mays the fifth, where in all of Fandahli have you been?" He snapped, snatching something off a table.

"Not relevant, just tell me out here." Evanna waved off his question, and instead placed the pup on the bed Dolan stood near. "I need you to look over this kid, make sure their lungs aren't damaged and that they haven't been injured and all that."

Dolan huffed, glancing to Erin who shrugged before turning to the pup. He took a quick step back as the werewolf began to wake up. "You brought back a werewolf. A werewolf, Evanna! You know they won't be happy!"

Evanna glared, and her voice lowered to a sharp whisper. "Their village was burned down, and as far as we know no one survived. Just listen and look over them, alright? Once they're taken care of, I'll try to see if the nearby village would be willing to take them in."

"Nope, nuh-uh. You aren't going anywhere for awhile." Erin crossed his arms, frowning at Evanna.

"And you're going to stop me?"

"Evanna darling, I'm the only one that would try to stop you." Evanna huffed softly, before finally caving. Because he was right. "Now, gonna assume you need something for pain?"

"'Scuse me?"

"Doubt you're feeling too well after that flight."

"Oh, yeah, right."

She took a seat beside the pup, who had finally woken up completely. They curled up closer to Evanna, the soot on their fur staining the sheets below it. "You're gonna be fine, kid." Evanna said gently. She carefully ran her fingers through their fur. "Trust me."

The pup whined softly, and although it trembled they let Dolan pick them up to wash them off.

Erin returned after a few moments, holding out a syringe. Evanna held out her arm for him. They were quiet for the most part as he injected the numbing serum. The medication was strong, and almost immediately she could feel her muscles begin to relax. He took a seat beside her, rubbing his eyes.

"So… you decided to just camp out with those stupid, stupid guards all night?"

"They weren't that bad, there's bound to be a brain cell in them somewhere."

"Evanna."

"They were just apprentices, if I'm correct. They'll learn how things work soon enough."

"Evanna-"

"And at least they were sensible enough to listen to me, unlike some Dali."

"They killed Kendle, Evanna."

Evanna froze mid-stretch, and she flicked her gaze over to Erin once more. "What?"

"When I said they brought him back- he was already dead."

She stared at him for a moment, before cursing loudly and booking it towards the door. "Evanna!" Erin's steps thundered behind her own as they fled from the facility.

Tongyians stared as they raced past, the last of the festival preparations being made before sundown when dragons were to start arriving. Evanna slowed at the training center, which doubled as their guard academy. Erin stopped at her side, bending over and wheezing.

"What the hell?" He yelled, throwing himself into a coughing fit. "What does it matter if they ended his life sooner rather than later?"

She ignored him, instead taking a deep breath to try and calm her racing heart. Faster and faster it beat with each passing year, it was a wonder she had yet to drop dead. He repeated his question, but instead of answering, Evanna pushed open the grand doors to the academy and strode in.

Erin groaned as he watched her wings, her shoulders just barely visible but quite clearly rigid. He glanced back in the direction of the plaza, squinting as the sun beat down on him from above. Finally he entered, following his queen up the steps to the viewing platform.

"-miracle you even survived, my dear, you really shouldn't rush out for such things!" Lyre was there, grasping Evanna's hands while looking over any exposed skin for new scars. Erin wiped the annoyance from his face at the fact she was treating Evanna almost like a child.

Evanna just allowed it to happen, her eyes not on the visiting queen but on those training below. Even from this high up the sweat could be smelled and the clashing of swords and shields echoed up to the highest floor still far above them. She seemed to be looking for someone, Erin guessed one of the guards from the previous night.

"Queen Lyre," Evanna interrupted her scolding. "Where are your sons? Prince Jonah and Dani?"

Lyre tilted her head, frowning lightly. "Actually, I don't know where Jonah is. Dani is out in the gardens with his father though. If I may ask, why?"

Evanna smiled softly, shaking her head and pressing a light kiss to Lyre's knuckles. "I was merely curious. I'll leave you to watch them train now."

"But I haven't even finished-" Evanna waved slightly before descending the stairs once more, nodding to Erin as she passed him. "Oh… is she always so difficult?" Lyre looked to Erin, almost pouting.

Erin chuckled genuinely. "No, Your Majesty. She's merely had a rough few days. Planning the entire festival yourself is no easy task." He took a step back towards the stairs. "Now, I do believe I should go with her. Have a lovely day, and hope you enjoy the festival." Erin bowed, before turning on his heel and leaving the queen alone.

She huffed softly, leaning over the rail once again. Sweeping her eyes over the crowd of Dali below, she found whom she had been watching originally. A young Tongyian with short blonde hair, almost as golden as the purist sunbeams. Lyre smiled wide, watching as the Dali fumbled once more against their training partner. She saw them hit the floor in frustration, and couldn't help but feel a spark ignite in her heart.

"Don't worry child," Lyre folded her arms over the railing, "soon enough you'll be the most powerful."

[queen-scribbles]

OC Interview

Rules:

1. Choose an OC.

2. Answer as that OC.

3. Tag 5 people to do the same. 

I was tagged by: @haledamage Thanks! (I have so many freaking OCs, I’m always a safe bet for these things xD) Not going to tag anyone else though, unless @captainofthefallen still needs an excuse? Consider this a tag, if so. :D

This time around I’m gonna answer with Jas, circa where she currently is in-game(tail end of 4711, mid-Varnhold Vanishing; tracked down two of the three Defaced Sisters for Along the Cold Trail, so no spoilers, please. I’ve already seen some big ones and wanna avoid any more)

–------

1. What is your name?

She swings her legs for a minute, seemingly tickled by how far they are from the floor, before registering she’s been asked a question. “Huh? Oh! Sorry, Jasiri Swallowtail. But please, call me Jas.”

2. Do you know why are you named that?

“Well, Jasiri’s from a.. ridiculous number of greats-grandmother or aunt who was an explorer” --she waves one hand with a laugh--”and Swallowtail’s the family name.” A wink. “Though that did work out well when I pledged myself to Desna.”

3. Are you single or taken?

The infectious joy dims significantly, and her expression is pensive as she devotes all her focus to twisting one of her rings. “Um.... that’s complicated right now.” 

4. Have any abilities or powers?

She brightens. “Desna gave me a whole bunch of cool stuff I can do through my faith in Her; healing people, curing stuff like poison and blindness, protect people, throw fire at bad guys.... it’s a really long list. And my parents used to joke I’m supernaturally curious and energetic, so maybe those count, too?”

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

She cocks her head, twirling a loose wisp of hair around one finger. “I’m not; I’m Jas. Don’t know anyone named Mary Sue, though I did have a friend named Susanna growin’ up.”

6. What’s your eye color?

“Grey-green, though which one stands out more depends on the light and what I’m wearin’.”

7. How about your hair color?

“Dark red.” She tugs on the wisp she’s twirling as if to emphasize the words.

8. Have any family members?

“Oh, lots,” she nods happily. “Both parents are still kickin’, last I heard, and I have five sisters, all but one older’n me,”

9. Oh? How about pets?

“OH! You haven’t met Ember yet?!” She hops down from the chair and almost skips to the doorway, giving an unusual trilling whistle. “Em! C’mere, there’s a new friend!” A few moments pass before a frankly adorable red panda somersaults into the room, and she beams as she scoops it up, careful not to step on the tail trailing between her feet. “There you are! Say hi to a new friend.” She “helps” it wave one paw, then scratches it under the chin before setting it down again to climb back in the chair. It amuses itself playing in the corner as she continues, “There’s also a cat named Tiger hiding somewhere, and this really cute stray dog that followed Octavia home from one of her ventures out to Spruceheart, but I dunno if that one counts as mine, since he likes her a little bit better.” 

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now, tell me something you don’t like?

She purses her lips in thought and taps one finger against her chin. “The standard stuff, I guess. Y’know, people who hurt innocents or take advantage of them. Also, being stuck inside too long. Snow. And peaches.” She makes a face. “Can’t stand peaches. Don’t ask me why.”

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?

“Climbing trees, exploring, reading....” She ticks them off on her fingers. “I enjoy pretty much anything if I can do it with a couple really good friends, honestly.”

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?

She shrugs, pick at a scab on one knuckle. “Some, yeah. Mostly good ol’ physical violence if I couldn’t solve things with talking--I’m a really good talker--but I’m sure there’s people I’ve hurt with things I said.” .

13. Ever… killed anyone before?

“Same as I just said; ones I couldn’t talk down, yeah.”Another shrug. “Some people are just lookin’ for a fight. Or I say the wrong thing.” She wrinkles her nose. “I do feel kinda guilty for those.”

14. What kind of animal are you?

“You mean, what would I be if I was an animal? ‘Cause, I mean..” she gestures at herself. “Pretty sure I’m a halfling. But if I was an animal, I’d either wanna be an otter or a red panda like Ember. Look at her, she’s so cute.”

15. Name your worst habits?

She snorts good-naturedly. “I talk too much, leap before I look, and say things without thinking.”

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

She snorts and grins mischievously. “Almost everyone; I’m not even four feet tall.” A pleased wiggle follows the joke. “Or is that not what you meant?”

17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?

“Straight,” she says with an airy shrug.

18. Did you attend school?

“Yeah, for a while.” She giggles. “Sitting still was torture, though, and I managed to persuade my parents I could learn just as much from explorin’ the world as I could from a book.”

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?

That pensive looks flickers again, and she starts twisting the ring, though she does keep eye contact this time. “I... wouldn’t be opposed if the right guy wanted to.”

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?

“Oh, yeah. They almost manage to balance out the detractors,” she says with a self-deprecating grin. “I’m very popular.”

21. What are you most afraid of?

“Drowning, I guess?” She taps her chin thoughtfully. “Yeah. It’s a scary way to go, and between my height and the fact I usually wear heavy plate armor, it’s a.. present concern for me around water.”

22. What do you usually wear?

“Somethin’ comfortable,” she shrugs. “Shirt and pants, dresses, whatever fits my mood. Gotta be bright colors, though.”

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

“What’s one that doesn’t?” a new voice mutters out in the hall--miraculously still loud enough to be heard.

Jas rolls her eyes and twists around to kneel on her chair so she’s facing the door. “No one asked you, Jubilost!” She returns to a proper seated position, flashing an angel-innocent smile, “I do love all things sweet, but there’s an extra special weakness for chocolate ice cream. And kameberry pie.Oh, no, my biggest temptation would be sweet pancakes. Yeah, that.”

24. Am I annoying you?

“Oh, not at all!” She grins. “I love talking to people.”

25. Well, it’s still not over!

“Okay!”

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

“Well, as Baroness, I’m pretty sure I’d count as high class?” Her nose wrinkles. “But I’m still confused by the ins and outs of nobility and politics and all that, so maybe upper end of middle? My family’s pretty solid middle class, though.”

27. How many friends do you have?

“Lots, though the exact number varies by how many people are in the room,” she jokes, toying with the carved butterfly talisman that hangs around her neck.

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

“Give it to me, all of it, right now.” She laughs and half-grimaces. “Unless it’s peach pie. Then the opposite, keep it away from me.”

29. Favorite drink?

“Never really thought about it,” she admits breezily. “I like a lot of things. Maybe milk? Or honeyed mead, that’s really good.” 

30. What’s your favorite place?

“There’s this flat rock that overhangs the river out behind Willowmere that’s the perfect distance from the surface to hang your feet in the water or skip stones.” She starts to smile, then gets distracted by a clearly less pleasant thought. “Up a tree’s always good, too. You can see for miles. It’s great.”

31. Are you interested in anyone?

She clears her throat and fidgets, looking down into her lap as she fiddles with her ring again. “...Yes.”

32. That was a stupid question…

“Not really, everyone wants to know if I’m spoken for.” She flashes a reassuring smile, dazzling as the sun. “I’m used to it, you’re fine.”

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?

“Hmm... Lake, I guess. Less chance of being swept off never to be seen again.”

34. What’s your type?

“Quiet’s good, to balance me out. Blond’s nice. And sharing a passion for seein’ the world. Oh, compassionate, that’s a big one...” Her voice trails off, and she looks toward the window as a figure clad in white passes below. “Can we move on?” 

35. Any fetishes?

Her face colors ever so slightly and she clears her throat. “If I had any, I wouldn’t share them with a stranger.”

36. Camping or outdoors?

“Yes to both, as often as possible.” She bounces a little in the chair. “Sleeping under the stars is so much better than indoors. And on that topic, I’ve hit my limit for sittin’ inside when it’s so nice out. Maybe we can talk more later.” 

And with that, she hops down from the chair and darts out the door.

[ganymedesclock]

I don't understand the permanent lion switch theory. Why do the characters need to grow into roles other teammates can already fullfill perfectly? and why are Pidge and Hunk excluded from such "important development"?

Honestly I’m not surprised Pidge and Hunk are left out?

Again, I feel like it’s less a support of the first switch formation and more this sort of… elevating Shiro’s importance to the team, but also not accepting that Shiro is also if anything ludicrously overqualified to be Black Paladin.

With regards to Keith: people want him to be black paladin because they want to view him as “the main hero”, and the idea is that Black is the “most special”

I feel like there’s some irony to the mentality because it basically frames Shiro and Black the same way- their actual qualities don’t matter. What matters is that Keith (or Lance) are good, have good qualities, and deserve recognition, and that recognition should be given to them no matter how Black or Shiro would feel about it, or even what Keith / Lance are shown in-universe to want.

With Lance, and Blue, there’s a particular angle to it that tangles in with Blue’s role as the Heart. Even within Voltron itself as a franchise, most continuities put Allura in the Blue Lion. And as much as I’ve heard many people complain that Lance “deserves better” than the Blue Lion, it’s comparatively almost unheard of for people to gripe about Allura being “shackled” to the Blue Lion even though they frame Lance deserving better as Blue being dead-end worthless drudgery.

Because the Heart- characters similar to VLD Lance- are often sorted into two categories. Both are looked down upon- emotional labor, empathy, and supporting the team are not seen as valuable heroic exertions, and they’re virtually always framed as coming at the cost of the person themselves- because obviously you’d never want to support other people if you could put your all-important self first, even when that self is being adequately tended to.

A female character in the role of the Heart is just seen as this is where she ought to be. It’s effectively considered a pink-collar job, and you can look at in the real world what’s considered “women’s work”. Of course she’s tirelessly going to tend to her team, of course she’s never going to pursue anything important for herself (when that sacrifice of self is not actually remotely necessary) of course she’s going to be the doe-eyed loving supportive figure, she’s a girl, that’s what girls do, live for all of the men around them, right?

Conversely a male character in the role of the Heart? Is seen as an absolute joke for the most part. Isn’t it funny he’s so weak-willed and sympathetic, isn’t it funny he’s not aggressive and macho, god he’s so pathetic. But don’t worry, though, since he’s supposed to want better than this lame old Heart job, he’ll inevitably “grow up” to be tough in a stereotypically macho way, even if this character development is completely at odds with everything else about who he is as a person.

At best, getting the character development that actually befits him as the Heart, you can count on him to be unaccepted until he proves he gained something from it in a sufficiently “manly” proactive manner.

The thing is, a lot of the tropes around the Heart aren’t remotely actually necessary to the role, and a well-written Heart character either deconstructs them or simply does entirely without them. There is no rule that emotional labor is the level that people stoop to when they aren’t man enough to chase their personal objectives. The role of the Heart is where we, as a society, dump our garbage- all of the hangups about this womanish kind of heroism- and the misogyny that says “well if WOMEN do it, it can’t be valuable!” and “real men don’t cry, what are you, a GIRL?”

It’s worth noting that the cry to take Lance away from the Blue Lion is probably the loudest and most passionate- Shiro, Pidge and Hunk are completely ignored for this (there’s basically no discussion where Shiro should go except “not in the Black Lion, because we need that for Lance!”) because their roles are very standard. 

Here’s the brainy one, here’s the brawny one, here’s the Leader, and there’s his Right Hand, we don’t complain about these things. Because we’ve already been conditioned through just about any five-man team show to consider those four the important ones, and Shiro the most important of all. When canon already can be viewed as “tempting” us with the possibility of Keith “surpassing” Shiro and stealing his important leader spotlight, it’s just understandable people salivate over that possibility- because we all know only the Leader will actually get the biggest slice of heroism at the end.

But the heart? There’s a reason TVTropes dismissively calls that role “The Chick”. Just look at that name for it- “oh, the designated girl, they threw her in there just because they had to have a girl so people wouldn’t complain about their sexism, so she can, y’know, stand out of the way and look pretty. Maybe we can give her a dainty little weapon and let her do some fighting but not that much. When the Leader is having his real, manly problems she’ll drop all of her petty girl issues to run over and support him.”

This is not what’s in VLD. But it’s in the cultural lens that we’ve been led to look to these kind of shows. It’s why, even in absence of canon support, people assume Shiro asserts so much more control and influence over the team- to the point of how many fanfics assume if Shiro disliked Lance, that Shiro could turn the whole team against Lance rather than the team would kick him to the curb, as we literally saw happen in motion with our secondary Voltron team, Sincline, and how Lotor vs. Narti ultimately ended. The generals gathered around the fallen Narti, and Lotor was simply cut from the team, without particular effort or fanfare. The hardest thing for the generals was feeling bad about it.

But Shiro and Lotor, they’re Leaders, so they have to be inherently stronger than their whole team, inherently in charge- except they aren’t.

People likewise assume that just pointing out Keith’s strength and intelligence mean that he should be the Leader- the idea is that he’s too competent to be a Right Hand, because every position besides the head is perceived as settling for less. (And Hunk- a fat black man, and Pidge- a young quite-possibly-written-as-trans girl with choppy hair, outside of occasional token “no, THEY should be the special one! I’m so revolutionary in praising them without thinking about them instead of insulting them without thinking about them!” largely are simply accepted that of course they’re settling, they’re lesser people)

Here’s the thing about Lance in VLD. None of that applies to him.

Lance has never been characterized as a weak-willed doormat. Nor has he been characterized as settling for less, or less thought of than his peers.

In fact, the roles that are shown to diminish Lance and leave him unhappy… are the stereotypically “manly” roles people would logically propose as a “fix” for Lance being “stuck” as the Heart.

Lance’s attempted James Bond impression is what makes Allura frustrated at him- while in s3, when, with growing confidence, Lance is his sincere, sweet self- that’s when Allura starts responding positively, starts telling him that he has “greatness” within him. That’s when he unlocks the Altean sword (sword from a planet of diplomats, awakened in a flare of blue light)

Lance taking Keith’s position at the Garrison features him being reminded he’s only here because Keith couldn’t be, and him blowing off the importance of the job, him acting at his pettiest. In contrast, in the same episode with no time for character development, Blue is framed as, from the start, choosing him first, ignoring everyone else there to stare only at Lance when nobody else is “taken” much less knowing there’s a Lion fitting for them… and Lance immediately settles comfortably into place.

Lance’s response to being chosen for Red is to first refuse it, try to pass it off to someone else, and then, when he does go for it, he comes back to grieve his connection with Blue. And Black? We see Lance uncomfortable and stiff in Black’s cockpit, trying to tell himself to feel good, because isn’t this what he wanted? Isn’t it?

People who are fitting where they were always meant to be don’t respond to it by grieving their previous niche, usually. Especially not there’s no particular ‘sweetness’ of “but I have Red now” or “but I wanted Red.” Lance wanted to give up the Red Lion back to Keith with no guarantee Blue would even be waiting for him. That’s a hell of a contrast to Lance yelling at Keith in s2e4 because Keith even said something about the Blue Lion.

Yeah, the wrong-colored armors is a continuity joke, but I can’t believe it’s just a mythology joke. VLD made a genuine commitment to base the characters off of specific colors, meaning that Lance in Red looks awkward. Our inner kindergartener goes “ha ha, no VLD, blue guy doesn’t go in red cat! Blue guy goes in BLUE cat!”

And proponents of Lance in somewhere else are aware of this- they’re very quick to change that armor color. Except canon has in every conceivable way tried to show us that’s not the case. They keep setting up material to frame it, more and more and more, as Lance belongs to Blue. Allura doesn’t have much in common with Blaytz or Ezor… but both of them have an awful lot in common with Lance.

And what are Lance’s good qualities, the things he really excels in?

Lance understands the team, and several times he’s singlehandedly pulled them back from disaster by his ability to read people’s emotions. Kuron? Going to be solved by Lance, is the framing we’ve gotten here. Team needs to connect emotionally? Everybody follow Lance’s lead. Shiro as Black Paladin? Acknowledged first by Lance before they even knew Black existed. Team needs to act out roles that aren’t theirs? Gape in awe of Lance’s absolute mastery of emotions. His nature is putty in his hands.

Compared to other incarnations of Lance that genuinely did write this character as Red Paladin, VLD Lance is noticeably more sober-minded, clearheaded and perceptive. He’ll never actually sacrifice something important for the benefit of a petty grudge. If anything, this is what we see framed as an absolutely jawdropping tactical asset for Lance- VLD is the first one to actually make Lance a sniper, with the clarity and precision of intent that make that useful. He can sweep an entire battlefield, check on all his friends, pick off targets and bottleneck enemies as needed.

Even his success with the Red Lion frames his Blue Paladin cooperation and malleability. Because Lance in Red isn’t driven really by ironclad loyalty the way Keith, Acxa, and Sendak are- Lance hooks onto Keith with “Right now, I’m in your corner, and that means I’m gonna be what you need me. If you need loyal support, I’m there, but if what you actually need is someone loudly reminding you that you left Allura behind, I’m doing that too.”

On the one hand, I’m touched by how much VLD really adores Lance, and loves depicting him as the Heart, and loves emphasizing the Heart’s importance to the team. On the other? I am frankly beyond pissed that I have to aggressively defend Lance in the Blue Lion by emphasizing that he can still do violence onto things in a fight. Yeah, it’s important to let all your characters have a piece of the pie and if your series is an action series that’s gonna mean action scenes, but rather than examine some of our deeply flawed relationship with gender and how much that serves as background radiation to anything we see as “womanish” and why, exactly, do we see Lance’s job as less valuable if it “seems feminine”, it feels too much like we’re wasting time trying to prove Lance is enough of a real man he can rock this “girly” job.

I think the whole “Lion swap should stick / they should push it further and never go back to original formation” if anything sets itself up to be breathtakingly meta because I feel like it’s ultimately rooted in not thinking through any of the roles very much. Because if you just look at them shallowly, Blue and Yellow sound the least “Cool” the way our culture frames things (again, the whole devaluing of support / prioritizing individual victory- if you’re not actively selfishly taking for yourself, you must not be doing anything for yourself).

Green sounds a little better, and Red sounds cooler (“Right Hand!” plus the self-satisfying narrative of “well, when Zarkon went bad, Alfor was the one who Defied Him” ignoring that all four paladins did, and Alfor was merely the more visible thanks to his connection with Allura and with Voltron- ignoring that it was almost definitely one of the other three, and likely Blaytz, that gave Zarkon that scar), but Black Lion, oh, that’s the best one, right?

So just grab whatever character you like best and stuff them into the Black Lion. This is how you appreciate a character! You want best character to get best lion. Now nobody can question how much you love them, even if you would be hard-pressed to actively identify what are their good qualities and how they align with Black’s explicitly stated qualities.

I’m not saying nobody who supports Black Paladin Lance thinks about it that much, but that the premise feels so congratulatory when it’s actually quite patronizing (it basically hinges on the idea that the Blue Lion can’t have recognized and mirrored any of Lance’s good qualities and the Lion that chose him first was basically putting up with him because he wasn’t her best fit and if Lance really belonged to Blue that’d make him a total loser) can help explain why its appeal is so widespread.

Especially when it feels like every time Lance says something in an authoritative tone people go “oh my gosh, Black Paladin Lance!” like… I was not aware that being Black Paladin hinged on only one virtue and that was your ability to angrily yell things. Last time I checked fandom was quite cross with Shiro’s authoritative yelling.

[digikate813]

Power Down: Chapter 4

Now that Fenton has officially become Gizmoduck, Duckburg’s newest protector, he is not holding back. Giving everything he has to being the greatest hero he can be. But how much can he push himself to do more before he starts to fall?

Based on a random request by @zefive. Not to me directly, but when I saw the post, this idea flooded into my head, and I couldn’t resist. Enjoy!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Fenton woke up in a daze, realizing that he had passed out. He really hoped this wouldn’t become a habit. When he looked around, it was still dark, but he wasn’t in the middle of the street anymore. He could feel the soft cushion of a mattress underneath him. He had to admit, it felt heavenly. He could also feel a robe that definitely wasn’t his over his shoulders. That's when he realized.

“The suit’s gone!” The mere panic at the thought of someone getting their hands on the Gizmoduck suit again was terrifying enough to snap him awake. He sat straight up, which he instantly regretted. His whole body ached, and not in the “broke every bone in your body” kind of way. He knew how that felt. It was not fun. Although this feeling wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. His head still throbbed a bit but it was definitely clearer. Clear enough to realize that he was, not home. He was sure of that. He took a minute to get a better sense of where he was. The room was a bit small, but much larger then his. And it’s decor was at a much higher standard then in the Cabrera household. He tried to figure out what was going on. Who could have possibly dragged him away and taken the suit? He got a look at an oil painting on the wall, depicting what looked like a golden dragon, with someone on it’s back. As he looked closer he recognized who it was, and by extension, where he was. “Oh boy.”

The door opened as soon as he came to his conclusion, and a tall muscular woman entered the room, who at first seemed taken aback by his presence. “Oh. You’re awake.” she said. “One moment” Stepping back out into the hallway, he could hear her talking to someone. He could guess who it was.

“Do you have any time what time it is?” he could hear a gruff muffled voice from what sounded like over a phone. “He’s awake.” she told him. There was a moment of silence before he heard “Tend to him quickly. I’ll be right there.” Fenton could feel it. He was in so much trouble. The woman returned with a silver tray in hand, and Fenton finally got up the courage to speak.

“Uhh, are you-?” he stuttered out before she quickly replied “Mrs. Beakley. Mr. McDuck’s housekeeper.” she introduced herself without even looking at him as she placed the tray on the table next to him. She finally turned to him with a glass of water. “Drink this. All of it. We wouldn’t want you getting dehydrated.” She was, very stern in her requests. Fenton wondered if she was like that with Mr. McDuck. Probably not. He accepted the glass and was about to do as she said before she added “And I suggest you tie up the dressing gown.”

Fenton was so startled by that comment he let out a yelp and almost spilled the drink. Instead he put it down quickly so he wouldn’t cause more of a fuss, and covered himself up a bit in a quick motion by pulling the blanket closer, with a nervous dry chuckle. Very dry. Maybe he should have a drink. “Where- where are my clothes?”

“Being washed. Something they clearly haven’t been in quite a while.” she replied in a pretty dismissive tone. This woman seemed way too intimidating to be a housekeeper. He was about to grab the glass again when Beakley grabbed his wrist while looking at her watch.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking your vitals” she answered as she seemed to have finished. “Can’t be too careful with sleep deprivation like this. Especially when someone has been asleep as long as you have to recuperate.”

“I see. And uhh, how long have I been asleep? Here? Exactly?”

“Since Mr McDuck brought you in? About 28 hours.”

“I’ve been asleep for over an entire day?!” Fenton shrieked. How is that possible? Sure he was a little tired, but he’d hardly consider it sleep deprivation. He just had a lot on his plate lately. To be out for 28 hours seemed unreal. As Fenton processed this, Mrs Beakley placed a tray of food next to the glass. “Help yourself. Mr. McDuck will be with you shortly.”

As she was leaving, Fenton had to ask. “Am I in trouble?”

Mrs Beakley simply looked at him over her shoulder, and left the room. Closing the door behind her.

Fenton straightened himself out and sat on the edge of the bed, tying up his borrowed robe like Beakley suggested. Guess he had nothing to do but wait. And eat. But worrying about Mr. McDuck scraping Gizmoduck for good was making him lose his appetite. He still grabbed a couple of loose grapes to snack on. Guess sleeping for that long would make you hungry no matter how much you were afraid of losing the greatest thing that ever happened to you.

Noticing the silver tray was left behind on the table, he picked it up, and took a good look at his reflection. Smoothing out the feathers on his head to look more presentable. Not that that should matter. This may be the worse he’s ever screwed up. And that was really saying something. But this time, he failed someone who had faith in him. Who believed in him and gave him a chance. No matter how much he’d messed up in the past, he couldn’t think of a time when he did that. How is it he slept for 28 hours, and he still felt weary?

He couldn’t bear to look at himself any longer. “Some hero I turned out to be.”

“Looks like ya got in a bit over yer head, eh lad?” He knew that voice. He turned around to see Scrooge McDuck standing in the doorway. “Mr. McDuck!”

He couldn’t quite read Scrooge’s expression as he approached him, but he didn’t look pleased. At the moment, he just leaned on his cane in front of him. “How you feeling lad?” he asked almost, comfortingly.

“Umm, better. I think.” Fenton trailed off. He didn’t realize just how bad he felt before until just now. “How did you find me?”

“Your mother called the office looking for me after you ran out. I wasn’t that far from the museum at the time and, well it didn’t take us long to find you on that little joyride you took.” He still couldn’t tell if Mr. McDuck was angry or amused. Maybe it was some weird combination of both.

Fenton shot off a rapid apology and hopefully a good explanation.“Mr. McDuck, I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened. The suits been acting up a bit for days, but this was something else! I tried everything I could think of all day to find the problem, but-”

“The problem wasn’t the suit lad!” Scrooge interrupted abrasively, which immediately shut Fenton up. “The problem, was you.” Pointing his cane aggressively at him.

Fenton was in shock at the statement. “Me? How am I the problem? I’ve worked day and night on the suit and answered every call for help that came my way. I put everything I possibly could into being Gizmoduck.”

“Exactly. Ya pushed yerself too hard.” Scrooge’s furrowed brow and tense muscles loosened as he continued in a softer tone. “Tell me Fenton. When was the last time ya got a decent night’s sleep?”

Fenton paused, rubbing the back of his head absentmindedly.It should probably bother him more that he had to think this hard about it. “Well, there wasn’t much going on on Saturday. So probably then. But just a day or two with broken sleep isn’t that bad. Everyone does that once in a while, right?” Fenton argued nervously.

Scrooge’s brow was furrowed again. “Lad. It’s Thursday.”

Fenton’s eyes went wide at that realization, but he could only manage to say a quiet “Oh.” as he slouched inward a bit.

“According to what Gyro’s told me about how that armor works, you were so tired that ya couldn’t work the thing properly. When ya can’t think straight, something that’s processed through your brain is goin’ to have trouble functioning.” Scrooge stated, and crossed his arms as he continued. “You’re just lucky no one got hurt. Including yourself.”

“But I- I thought for sure that I was handling it.” Fenton stammered out trying to process this information. “I thought I was fine.”

“Ya don’t become dead to the world for over a day if you’re fine Fenton.” Scrooge instantly scolded.

Fenton was so ashamed, and with how Mr. McDuck was looking at him, that pit in his stomach was growing (though that could be from the whole not eating much thing). He knew what was coming. So he did the only thing he could think of. Beg.

“I’m sorry. For everything Mr. McDuck.” he started tiredly. “I know you don’t have any reason to give me another chance, but please. Don’t take back the suit. I can still be Gizmoduck! I just wanted to help, but I’ll be more careful. I promise!”

Scrooge could hear the desperation in his voice. He just smiled and said “Take back the suit? Don’t be daft! No one is more fit to pilot that crazy contraption then you Cabrera. Y’know I wish more of my employees had your determination.” Fenton perked up a bit at that remark. “But you’ve got to learn to work smarter lad, not harder. I figured someone as clever as you would know that.”

Fenton processed that for a minute. He wasn’t quite sure how this all went wrong. At the time it made sense. He was just doing what he’d always wanted as much as he possibly could. After a moment of awkward silence, Fenton finally let it all out.

“I know. I mean, I should have known. It’s just- No one’s ever depended on me before. All I’ve ever wanted was to help people. Make the world better and more exciting in a way. And with Gizmoduck, I was finally given that chance. I guess I just, wanted to put everything I had into it. Prove that I really could do what no one thought I could. Not let anyone down. And if I was doing anything less, then I wasn’t really being a hero. If I pick and choose what’s important, what’s worth my efforts as the protector you asked me to be, how am I any better then, Waddleduck?” This whole confession was making Fenton exhausted all over again. This probably sounded ridiculous to his boss. “Not that you’d understand that. I mean, you’re Scrooge McDuck! There’s nothing you can’t handle.”

Fenton didn’t know what else to say. He was ready for Mr. McDuck to just leave him be. Instead, he sat next to him on the edge of the bed, with a world weary expression. “Fenton, I’ve been running one of the largest companies in the world and traveling all over the globe on life threatening adventures for over a hundred years. Ya think I don’t know what it’s like to feel overwhelmed?”

“A hundred ye- How old are you again?” Fenton asked perplexed. But he soon realized that that probably wasn’t what he was supposed to take away from that.

“My point is” Scrooge continued “That I understand wanting to do it all. Wanting to tackle absolutely everything. To feel that weight of responsibility every single day. In a way, I thrive on it. And maybe you do too. Always ready to dive into an exciting situation? That’s a great quality to have. But I also understand that if you do nothing but that, you’re eventually going to crash. I know it’s difficult to put priority on stuff like this. But I also know that if you don’t take the time to take care of yourself, soon yer not gonna be of any help to anybody. And then Gizmoduck won’t be there for anyone. Understand?”

Fenton did understand. He just lost track of so much in the desire to be a true hero, he stopped looking after himself. As the first signs of the light of dawn slowly rose over Duckburg, he still wasn’t quite sure how he was going to prioritize his time as Gizmoduck, but after this whole debacle, he realized all too clearly that if he didn’t, there wouldn’t be a Gizmoduck at all. And that’s the last thing he wanted. “Perfectly”

“That’s a good lad.” Scrooge said with a pat on the back as he stood up again. “But you still exhausted yerself pretty badly. It could have been worse, but I want you to stay here so we can look after ya. This counts as time off without pay of course.”

“Of course”

Scrooge continued as started to leave. “Just do as Beakley says, and you’ll be stopping the criminals of Duckburg again in no time.”

“Criminals!” Fenton gasped. He nearly forgot. “That artifact from the museum. Was it recovered?”

Scrooge stopped in his tracks “Not yet” he answered as he turned around. “I don’t supposed you know who was behind it, do ya?”

“It was some kind of robot. I remember it was pretty well built, but there weren’t many distinct features on it. Except.” Fenton paused as he was slowly putting the picture of that evil android together in his mind again.

“Except what?”

“There was something on it’s head. It looked kind of like the shape of a hat of some kind, but I didn’t get a very good look.”

Scrooge had a look like Fenton had most of the time. Of the gears turning rapidly in his head. Putting pieces together for the ultimate solution. He pulled something out of his jacket and held it up to Fenton. Pointing near the top he asked “Did it look anything like this?”

Fenton squinted to get a better look. The light still wasn’t great in here. It was a Polaroid of what looked like an angry screaming Flintheart Glomgold. But on his head, he recognized the shape. “Yes! That’s it!” Fenton confirmed “Except it was, y’know, metal.”

“Glomgold” Scrooge growled under his breath with a look of annoyance and disgust on his face. Crumpling the picture in his fist.

“Why would Flintheart Glomgold want to steal something you donated to the museum? If he gets caught it seems like it’s not really worth it.” Fenton asked.

“That doesn’t matter to Glomgold. We were both after this treasure, and I beat him to it. Not surprisingly.” Scrooge got a pretty smug look on his face at that last remark. “As long as he has it, he wins as far as he’s concerned. Guess he’s got more tricks up his sleeve then I thought.” Seemed like Scrooge was pondering what to do about this. “Well, if that’s the way he’s gonna play it, then I guess I’ll just have to take it back.”

“Let me help!” Fenton requested without a second thought. “Please Mr. McDuck. This is all my fault. Give me a chance to make it right. This time I’ll be firing on all cylinders.” Scrooge looked skeptical, but before he could say no, Fenton added “You saw something in me when you asked me to watch out for Duckburg. You just said that I was clever, and had determination. That no one was more fit to pilot the armor then me. Let me prove that. Prove that I can handle the weight of that suit and all it entails without falling apart.” Fenton was more determined then ever before. He’d messed up too many times. He wasn’t going to again.

Something in Scrooge’s countenance changed. If he didn’t know any better, he would have said Mr. McDuck looked, impressed. After a moment of consideration, he finally broke the silence “We can’t do anything until after dark anyway. Very well lad. As long as you take it easy the rest of the day, you can come.”

Fenton beamed with enthusiasm and quickly replied “Oh thank you sir!”

“I have some business to take care of, I’ll leave you be. Rest up.” As he was leaving the room, he turned to Fenton with a grin “We’ve got a big night ahead of us.” before he closed the door behind him.

If Fenton was going to make his mark as Gizmoduck, it was going to be now. If he wasn’t still, frankly pretty worn out, he’d be running around the room preparing. But it was probably for the best. Being forced to take it easy actually gave him more time to think. About the battle and how he could have done better. About the enemy’s arsenal, and during the periods he was awake the rest of the day, he was coming up with a way to counteract certain problems.

A/N: This is officially the longest chapter yet, but it’s probably my favorite yet. The story was originally going to end here, but after watching Fenton’s episodes again (all both of them) while Fenton does screw up, he does prove himself and make things right in the end, and I wanted to give him that here, which will be covered in the final chapter.

There’s also a small pointless Broadway musical reference in here  (Not the musical you’re probably thinking). It doesn’t connect to anything and it’s only there because I’ve been listening to the soundtrack lately. If anyone can figure it out, let me know. Look forward to the final chapter and i hope you enjoyed!

[ankhlesbian]

FE Rarepair Week: Day 4

Prompt: Battles, from @ferarepair-week

Fandom: FE Fates

Pairing: Charlotte/Corrin

AO3 Link: Here

Length: ~1.5k

Title: axe-identally in love

After a close shave on the battlefield, Corrin decides she should learn a new weapon: the axe. And who better to ask for help than Charlotte, berserker extraordinaire?

There’s no time to think on the battlefield. Well, maybe there is if you’re Leo, or Xander, but Corrin’s not them, and she certainly won’t be anytime soon. All she has are her instincts, and she’s very thankful for them, especially right at this very moment.

Her brain is busy short-circuiting, but her body isn’t failing her. She ducks under the swing of one naginata, parries another with her sword, and jumps, spinning in midair to avoid two more. It’s a very bad situation to be in, cornered by five spear fighters with only her Yato to protect her.

She can feel the magic in her dragonstone pulsing, urging her to draw on it, but she’s indoors, and it’d be too crowded if she shifted, not to mention how vulnerable she’d be while transforming. Having to suppress it is distracting, and her opponents take advantage of her brief pause.

This time her attackers are more coordinated, and a blade scrapes her cheek as she miscalculates her dodging. She grits her teeth.  Something has to give sooner or later, and at this rate it might end up being her.

“Out of my way!” Someone growls, and Corrin whirls around to seek the source of the new voice. Her head would’ve been skewered if her attacker hadn’t had his arm lopped off by a familiar axe.

The newcomer continues their assault, axe flying faster than the eye can follow, and finally its owner plants it edge-first into the wooden floor, leaning casually on the handle.

“Oh, wow, did I do that?” Charlotte giggles. It’s rather unconvincing, considering the malice in Charlotte’s eyes and the blood spattered all over her face. There’s even some in her hair, the red twice as vivid on a yellow background.

“I owe you one.” Corrin pants, adrenaline still rushing through her veins. She casts her eyes around to see if the rest of the fighting has finished, but there’s not much to judge off of, considering she can’t see through walls.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Lady Corrin! I’m just doing my job. Leo sent me to find you; it’s all clear out there.”

Corrin nods, sheathing her sword, and does her best not to look too pathetic as she limps back to the others, Charlotte leading the way. Charlotte, she notes with interest, doesn’t seem the least bit injured.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The next day sees the army back at the castle, planning their next move. Xander dismisses the war meeting after a heated discussion. For now, they’re just going to lie low, until King Garon gives their next orders. Corrin purses her lips, unhappy.

She leaves with the urge to do something, her dragonstone glowing brightly. She doesn’t regret choosing her family here over the Hoshidans, but it rankles her that King Garon has turned things so rotten. She used to think of him as a father. And now, because of him, her and her sibling can’t just settle this peacefully, can’t just be safe.

A glint of metal catches her eye. It’s Charlotte, waltzing about with her axe in hand. It gives Corrin an idea.

“Charlotte! Charlotte, wait up!”

Charlotte turns to look at her, a sneer shifting to a plastered grin.

“Lady Corrin! Fancy seeing you here. What can I help you with, milady?” Corrin’s eyes shine.

“Could you teach me how to use an axe like you do?”

Charlotte splutters. “You want me to teach you? You flatter me, Lady Corrin! Little old me, I’m nothing special! I could talk to that oaf- er, hunk, that hunk Arthur for you, though.”

Corrin is undeterred. She knows Charlotte has skills, and why she pretends she doesn’t is a mystery to her. She considers herself friends with Charlotte, so she presses on.

“Don’t be shy, Charlotte. I’ve seen what you can do on the battlefield. There’s no one better with an axe than you.”

“Well, when you put it like that, I suppose even I could give you a few pointers.” Charlotte says, ego stroked, flipping her hair over one shoulder. “But no whining, alright? It isn’t easy being this good.”

Corrin gives her a salute. Charlotte taps a finger against her lips, looking around thoughtfully.

“Are you free tomorrow morning, milady?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Right after dawn the next day, Corrin drags herself out to a training field. She’s still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes when Charlotte arrives, sans her usual armor. Her hair’s in a high ponytail, and she has on a sleeveless white shirt and blue shorts. The muscles in her arms seem much more pronounced than they do when she’s wearing her shoulder pads.

Charlotte has an axe in each hand, and twirls them absently as she catches Corrin’s eye. She smirks at the starry look on Corrin’s face.

“Enough work and you could do this too. You’re not half bad with a sword, you know.” She gives Corrin a once-over before tossing her one of the axes; the smaller one. “The weight shouldn’t be much heavier than your Yato, not with this axe. It’s going to be distributed differently, though.”

Charlotte leads her through some simple stretches, and then demonstrates some basic moves for her to copy. It’s different from what she’s used to, but in a good way. Not in an easy way, though.

Charlotte frowns at her. “Your stance is all wrong!” She steps behind Corrin and leans in, front pressed against her back. Corrin feels her face flush, and tries desperately to focus on the task at hand. She's here to learn, that’s all. Charlotte’s hands (strong, calloused hands) are on her arms and hips, repositioning them as needed.

She finally steps back, admiring her work. “Now repeat those moves, and don’t shift your legs again.” she orders, commandeering tone far cry from the act she likes to put on.

By the end of it, it feels like her arms are going to fall off.

“I don’t know how you do this every morning.” Corrin complains, wiping sweat from her drenched forehead. Charlotte doesn’t look fazed at all. She laughs.

“I don’t. I do something much more strenuous.” She flashes Corrin a grin. “Keep this up, and maybe you could join me sometime. You’re a fast learner, Lady Corrin.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Hyah!”

“I’d have to be blind to get hit by that!” taunts Charlotte. Corrin’s improved quite a bit, so they’ve started sparring. Charlotte currently has one hand tied behind her back, and she’s still leagues better than her.

Corrin narrows her eyes. She has her pride on the line. Well, what little of it remains after a dozen humiliating losses in a row. It’s time to mix things up.

She feints a swing low, jerking it up at the last second. Charlotte moves to readjust, and- there! Corrin kicks out a foot, hooking it around Charlotte’s ankle, and tugs. Charlotte goes tumbling backwards.

“Why, you little—” Corrin cuts her off, pointing her axe at her throat.

“I win.” She announces smugly. Charlotte huffs, but she can’t hide her amusement.

“You’re not as innocent as I thought, Lady Corrin, doing something dirty like that. How scandalous!”

“And neither are you. How many times have I had to help you wash the blood out of your hair?” Charlotte stands up, brushing the dirt off of her.

“I suppose you have a point.” She puts one hand on her hip and uses the other to shake the debris from her hair. She’s actually sweating this time, her bangs matted to her forehead. Her choice of exercise wear doesn’t cover her stomach, showing off her stomach.

“See something you like?”

Corrin coughs, face going red. “I was just, uh, you know. Admiring your form.” “Oh? My standing form?” Corrin can’t really get out of this one. Charlotte’s face is devious. “Don’t worry, Lady Corrin, you’re not the first to be taken in by my charms.”

“Just call me Corrin.” she blurts. Charlotte goes quiet. “We’re friends, aren’t we? You don’t have to be so formal.” Charlotte wrinkles her nose, face neutral.

“Friends, huh?” She doesn’t look as happy as Corrin had envisioned, but her gut is telling her it isn’t because she doesn’t like her. It’s probably the opposite, in fact. Corrin steps closer, letting the axe in her grip fall to the ground.

“We could be something else,” she suggests, trying for smooth, even though her voice is shaking. She’s never exactly confessed to anyone before.

Charlotte’s face comes back to life. She raises a hand to her chest and gasps with mock surprise, even as her cheeks turn pink.

“How forward of you!” Charlotte can’t meet her eye, now. “But, well, I’m only a lowly soldier. People would surely talk.” Sweet as she tries to act, it’s no secret that Charlotte’s after money more often than not.

Corrin reaches out and grasps one of Charlotte’s hands firmly.

“I think I can handle a little gossip. We’ve had plenty, with, y’know, everything.” She gestures awkwardly at herself. Helping kickstart a war, being from Hoshido… and welcoming Azura back with open arms hadn’t endeared her to much of the army, either.

Charlotte bites her lip, clearly not entirely convinced.

“Swing your axe at them a bit, and I’m sure they’ll shut up,” Corrin suggests, and it actually seems to work.

“Good point. It’d be a good workout.” Charlotte cracks her knuckles, smirk tugging at her lips.

“I wouldn’t mind watching that.” Corrin says without thinking, and Charlotte immediately laughs at her.

“You’re such a lady-killer, Corrin. You always know what to say.” She flutters her eyelashes endearingly at Corrin. Corrin rolls her eyes.

“So, we’re good?” she asks eagerly, just to be sure.

“Oh, definitely. More than good. Great, in fact. Want to go for another round?” Corrin smiles.

“Always.”

[crisontumblr]

Fic Doodle: Promises Worth Keeping

Related Reading: Tabristair Masterpost

Just a bit of dialogue I needed to get out of my brain. Takes place way back in the beginning of Aeron Tabris’s Blight adventure, specifically after Ostagar. Will clean up and make an actual full-fledged fic later.

See if you can spot all of the parallels and lines that are technically call-forwards. ;3

“I wouldn’t blame you if you chose to run right now.”

Aeron stops dead in her tracks. Alistair glances over his shoulder—perhaps to confirm that it really is her walking towards him?—before returning his gaze to the marshland before them.

“I doubt anyone would,” he adds, “given the circumstances. Part of me hopes you won’t, though—”

“I-I’m not—” Aeron breathes in, sighs. She presses her hands together; a brief attempt to resist the urge to wring them. “How are you managing, Alistair?”

Alistair gives her another glance, but there is an odd little smile on his lips. “Truthfully? I’m not. All my friends—my, ah…m-my family, I guess—?”

He turns his head away the same moment his voice cracks, bowing it into his hands before his shoulders begin to shake. Something about the swiftness of the gesture makes Aeron feel strange—as if, though she can’t explain how, she is certain this is something he has done before, and often.

You should probably leave him be.

Aeron approaches slowly. She has given up trying to avoid wringing her hands.

Go back inside. Let him finish this crying jag he’s on. You can assess your supplies while you wait; that’s productive for the both of you?

And how long will that take? Not very, considering the situation they left. They’re lucky to have their armor, their swords—

Besides, how long has he been out here, by himself?

This grief doesn’t concern you.

Well, no, it doesn’t. That’s true. But…

Aeron starts to reach out, stops, pulls her hand back halfway, glances back towards the hut, relents, and finally—carefully, deliberately, and gently—places her hand on his left shoulder. Alistair goes quieter, but she can still feel him trembling under her hand. As Aeron sits down next to him on the bank, hand lifting a little to avoid pushing him down sideways, Alistair hastily wipes his face. He draws his knees to his chest and hugs them tight, mumbling an apology.

“This is—” Another odd smile quirks at his lips. “It’s not very becoming of a Grey Warden, is it?”

But Aeron isn’t thinking that, even as she watches him try to play this off; instead, she is focused on how strikingly young Alistair looks in the light filtering through the hazy clouds. (How old did he say he was? Has he even said?) So young and the entirety of the world he knows, gone, seemingly overnight.

Aeron already knows more than enough about that, doesn’t she?

“Do you always cry alone?” she asks him. She shrugs when Alistair looks as if he isn’t sure how to answer, turning to pick at grass in front of her. “My Da was fond of saying that…that crying, y’know, in private is like keeping a secret you should share with someone, but you can’t for…whatever reason.” Aeron shakes her head. “I never really quite… He’s always saying strange things like that.”

“Your father’s still alive?” Alistair sounds mystified by the idea. “I just—I never…knew…mine…”

They fall into uneasy silence occasionally broken by soft sniffling on Alistair’s part. Aeron wonders what her Da is doing now, if Shianni and Soris are faring well, and she feels a pang of guilt. At least, if she did choose to run, she would have something to run towards.

“Listen, Alistair—” Aeron lets out a short breath. She squints against the late-afternoon light. “I have no idea what’s going to happen next. I have no idea what we should do. I don’t like our odds. We’re the only Grey Wardens left, we have no proof that Loghain betrayed us—”

“But he did. He betrayed us—not just the Wardens, but King Cailan, also! Loghain turned his back on his own king and left us all to slaughter—!”

And she is surprised by how much anger is suddenly in Alistair’s voice; how his brown eyes catch the sunlight and burn brightly with it.

“He won’t get away with it,” he tells her. “I’ll see to that, even if it kills me after.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t,” Aeron answers. “I’m not sure I’m the person Ferelden should depend on for stopping the Archdemon, much less inherit the job of rebuilding the Grey Wardens here.”

Alistair makes a sound of confusion. “And I am?”

“Well, I mean…” She offers an uneasy smile. “You have been in for longer, haven’t you?”

“Six months! That’s hardly—” Alistair shakes his head, but he actually manages to laugh a little. “That’s barely basic training there, that is! It’s hardly enough!”

“That’s more than me, at least!” Aeron points out. “And—and—you have templar training—”

“It’s hardly enough,” he repeats, the sadness already coming over him again. He sighs. “Maker, this is terrifying.”

“Yes, it is,” Aeron admits.

“I wish Duncan were here.” Alistair turns his gaze back towards the marsh. “But he’s not, is he? This isn’t just some horrible nightmare. He is never coming back. None of them are. They’re all dead.”

“Alistair…” For a moment, when he looks at her, the words catch in Aeron’s throat. She draws herself up to her feet. “Look, I’m just going to say this a-and…take it as you wish, alright? We’re the only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden, yeah? Nobody can stop the Archdemon but us, even if we have no idea how or—or even if we can, and that’s assuming Loghain doesn’t manage to kill us first.

“And I mean… I haven’t been the nicest to you in the short time we’ve known each other, I know that, but… Well, I took a vow to see this through, and—” Aeron runs a hand through her hair. “I don’t know if it still means something or if—I don’t know, but… Alistair, I’ll make you this promise; that if you’re going to see this out through to the end, then I’ll help you. We’ll finish this together, the Archdemon and Loghain.

“And then…who knows? Maybe after that, we can talk about the Wardens or something. I-I don’t—”

She shakes her head, her sudden surge of confidence vanishing as she looks down at her hands. It’s silly, isn’t it? Thinking the two of them can accomplish the impossible.

“Do you really think we have a chance?” Alistair’s voice is soft.

“I don’t know.” Aeron offers out her hand. “There’s really only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

“Hm.”

A thoughtful look passes over his features. He looks up at her, head at a slight tilt. Is he trying to size her up? Waiting for her to exclaim that she is joking and, in fact, planning to leave as soon as she feels it might be safe?

“Alright—” Alistair’s hand is larger than hers—it is warm, rough with callouses from years of hard work—but while his grip is firm, he only grips as tight as he has to, and he lets go as soon as he is back on his feet. “Let’s see where this goes, then. Together.”

[sassycassie-s-writing]

“I Thought You’d Changed”

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Avengers - Peter Parker/Spider-Man feat. Tony Stark

Rating: PG

Original Idea: None really. Just my head.

Notes: (Masterlist)(About Me) Okay, so in the comics the Civil War was over the Superhero Registration Act since secret identities weren’t actually known, instead of the Sokovia Accords and, of course, trying to get to a Winter Soldier Deathsquad before some crazy dude. I kind of brought the SRA into the MCU. Kinda. I needed a reason for conflict.

^^^^^

I was standing a step up from Iron Man, putting our heads on the same level instead of me being ridiculously shorter than him.

Or rather, I was standing a step up from Tony Stark. The intimidating armor was nowhere to be found. Yet.

Peter was watching me in surprise, eyes wide.

“I’m a tough cookie, Mr. Stark,” I purred. “I’ve withstood the blunt trauma of being punched by something with the power of the Hulk. And I’m still here. So do not test me. Men may be strong, but women are tough. I doubt I could outsmart you. Or out-punch you. But I don’t need to. All I have to do is outlast you. And I promise: you will lose your motivation before I lose my temper. You will run out of ideas on how to test me before I run out of patience.” I cracked my knuckles. “So don’t even try. You won’t win against me.”

With that, I leapt onto the nearest rooftop with a flip and disappeared into the darkness.

Peter followed me. “Are you crazy?” he demanded. “Mr. Stark—”

“Doesn’t need to like me,” I interrupted. “I don’t care what he thinks of me. He can beat me up but he can’t beat me down. When I got hit with that mechanical arm that packs the punching power of the Hulk, it knocked the breath out of my lungs. Most normal people’s internal organs would have exploded. I don’t care who he thinks he is. He can’t control me. Ever.”

“Yeah, but the Registration Act is coming whether people like you and me like it or not—”

“And I’d rather retire from being a superhero completely than be forced to work for the government with my secret identity known to everyone on the planet.”

“Why? We have a moral obligation to do the right thing with our powers.”

“And jeopardize everyone I care about in the process? My mom doesn’t even know about my powers and she’s the first person I tell everything to. First kiss? Yup. First fender-bender? Yup. Last time I stole a cookie from the cookie jar? Yup. Given superpowers? Absolutely not. She needs plausible deniability. As does the rest of my family. And I’m not going to give that up. If the people who’ve become my enemies find out who I am, the people I love could be killed.”

“Please, just sign the Registration Act,” Peter pleaded, grabbing my upper arms.

I wrenched out of his grip. “Never.”

“Then, at the very least, stay out of the conflict. I’d hate to run into you when the factions meet.”

“Look, Spidey: if the Registration Act passes and the last couple heroes whose identities aren’t known are being forced to sign or retire, I’m retiring. I’ll be safely out of the conflict. Heck, maybe I’ll retire to Aruba and get a massage on the beach. I am not going to endanger the people I care about. They deserve to be safe too. Isn’t it the government’s job to protect their people? Signing that document would violate that. And I have a moral obligation to do the right thing by my family and friends. Screw the world. There will always be someone else to punch the living daylights out of bad guys. In the grand scheme of things, me and my powers really don’t matter.”

He looked disappointed. “I thought you’d changed.” Peter held onto my arm to keep me from leaving as I turned away. “You told me when you turned against the drug lord you worked for and helped me take him down that you wanted to do the right thing,” he reminded me. “Do the right thing now!”

I whirled on him, my hair whipping against his chest. “I was never a conventional hero, Spider-Man,” I spat, snarling his name like it was full of poison. “You knew that when I changed sides. Or at the very least you should have figured that out. Gee, I thought you were something of a genius, Parker. I will always choose the freedom and happiness of myself and my family over anything you or the world want from me.” I looked him right in the eyes through his mask. “Always.”

I ripped out of his grip and lashed out an arm. A web shot from my wrist and I leapt off the building, swinging away.

^^^^^

The Iron Man suit ascended behind Peter as he watched Brown Recluse swing away. “Girl trouble?” Mr. Stark asked with more than a hint of sarcasm.

Peter sighed. “Something like that,” he admitted.

“She won’t do it,” Tony stated.

Peter shook his head. “She’d rather retire to Aruba than sign the Registration Act,” he replied.

Mr. Stark snorted. “Well, maybe she’s the smart one.”

“I thought… I thought we could make her see sense. That this is the right thing to do. But she just… she doesn’t feel the same way I do. I thought I was really getting through to her.” Peter sat down on the edge of the building. “I thought she’d changed.” He felt a metal hand pat his shoulder.

“She’s chaotic neutral. Choosing her own freedom and happiness over the good of the world.”

“How can she be so selfish?”

“Y’know, kid, I don’t think she is. Based on what I overheard and what you’ve said, she was thinking more about her family than herself. Maybe some of it was selfishness, but at least she’d rather retire than join Cap’s resistance. She’ll hide away… and everything will be fine!” Tony was trying to be upbeat for the kid’s sake, but he didn’t really believe what he was saying.

In all honesty, the darkness of Brown Recluse’s character and how menacing she’d seemed on the staircase kind of intimidated Tony. For her age and rather petite stature, she was kind of scary. An anti-hero who wouldn’t allow anyone or anything to control her. He could admire that, even if it was frustrating and sad.

“But we have incredible powers! And because of those powers, we have the moral obligation to do the right thing with them!” Peter wailed, running his hands over the top of his mask as though he wanted to run them through his hair.

“Well, she obviously doesn’t see it that way. I don’t think anyone ever told her that she absolutely had to do the right thing with the powers she was given,” Tony pointed out. Peter moaned in complaint. “Look, kid, I know you care about her a lot. She made a hard choice when she turned on her old boss to help you take him down. I know that you and her… well, you’re polar opposite in some ways, and completely the same in others. Which makes your natures pretty compatible. You’re a caring kid, Peter. And I know how difficult women can be sometimes. But if she chooses to retire, then I guess all you can do is be at peace with it.”

“Guess so.”

^^^^^

I landed heavily on a random windy rooftop, nearly hitting my nose on the concrete, and fell to my knees. I ripped my brown mask off and shoved it between my legs. My gloved hands lifted up to cover my face. Tears streamed from my eyes.

I was just a kid. What was I thinking? Why had I even started to use my powers like this in the first place? I wasn’t ready for all that came with it! I had to keep making adult decisions without adults advising me and had no idea what to do. Choices had to be made. They were all difficult. Nothing came simple in the life of an Enhanced person—superhero or not. I was a teenager without any solid support or guidance. No one could know about my powers and the choices kept coming that I had to deal with alone.

For the first time since I was a young child, I didn’t even bother to try to control my sobbing. It shook my entire body, my breaths hitching in my lungs.

Not to mention I didn’t like snapping at Peter. He was a good kid. He had a good heart and a good sense of humor.

But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t put my family and friends in danger.

I should never have put on a mask. I should have just let my powers subtly enhance my life but not get involved with greater things. I was too young for all of this. I knew I didn’t understand the world at large. I knew I didn’t have the knowledge, experience, and wisdom necessary to do so. I should have, at the very least, waited until I was older.

Why hadn’t I?

I continued to cry, hating myself for making these decisions and hating myself even worse for hurting Peter. He really was one of the only friends I had. The legs of my suit got soaked as my tears kept falling from my face and landing on my thighs.

It took me a long time to pull myself together enough to pull my mask back on and swing safely home.

Inside, I stripped off my suit, hid it, and collapsed in bed. Thoroughly emotionally and physically exhausted.

[stripestheboar]

Day 1 - OT3 (Undertale)

It’s here… it’s finally here. PREPARE.

In case you do not know, I will be participating in Undertale Shipping Pride Month. All thirty days, to be exact.

All. Thirty. Days.

Yes, this is why I’ve been inactive for a bit; I’ve been wanting to work on this. So tune in every day for a knew ship story. They will be in different AUs, with different pairings, some platonic and some not. So, everyone…. enjoy.

Pairing: Sansgoriel

Word Count: 2,069

The setting was dim, the only light provided being the toned down lights above and the several candles placed strategically around the table. The warm, comforting air of the room was in such a stark contrast to the dark and cold of the outside world. Gentle laughs could be heard, shared over the dinner table as the two guests enjoyed each other’s company for the first time in years. Their food was only half touched, for they found more interest in words shared than their well-cooked food.

Toriel, dressed in robes much more regal and elegant than she had in decades, couldn’t help but enjoy the comfort and loving aura her former husband had brought to the table. She couldn’t believe it herself, but she was enjoying being with her ex lover again. She was ashamed to admit it, but was also having too much of a good time to even express such an emotion. As for Asgore, he was also dressed in a rather formal outfit as well. He no longer wore his armor, for it seemed pointless now on the surface, where they could be happy in peace. As for his wellbeing, he was all smiles. He was glad to be in the company of the woman he loved once again, who no longer wanted nothing to do with him.

“I must say, Asgore,” Toriel praised, “I am having such a wonderful time with you. Your cooking has definitely improved over the decades, and your house is just lovely. And here I thought you couldn’t maintain it without me.” Asgore couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “Why thank you, Toriel,” he rumbled. “It’s all worth the effort to see you happy once again. Toriel only blushed from under her fur, turning away a bit. Flattery usually didn’t work on her, but she was in such a good mood that she couldn’t help but be swayed by his genuine words.

“But… there is something else I’ve wanted to talk to you about,” Asgore sighed, immediately catching the other boss monster’s attention. “Yes?” she asked softly, tilting her head. She feared she already knew what it was. “I just… want you to know that I still love you,” he began. That was a given. Toriel opened her mouth to speak, but Asgore had more to say. “And I know I may not be… quite honorable in your memories, but I was hoping that maybe, just maybe, we could give it another shot. Just this one time. I want to reconcile out relationship.”

The other monster was silent, a contemplative look donning her face, as if pondering how to answer. “Asgore, I-” “I understand if you refuse,” Asgore said defeatedly as he lowered his head. “I… I will not bother you again with this if you do. After all I have done, you don’t even need to speak to me again…”

“I want to,” Toriel sighed. The male shot his head up with a slight turn of surprise, one of his bowed horns hooking one of the wine glasses and flinging it across the room by accident. “You do?” He had to be honest, he didn’t even think he would get this far, much less have Toriel actually contemplate getting back together with him. She gave a nod. “Yes, I do, but… there’s someone else.”

Agore’s eyes widened. “Someone else?” He whispered. “But who?” Who could possibly win over the heart of his fair queen?

Toriel looked down sadly, before going into her menu. She entered her inventory, pulling out something from slot six, just below the one empty pie tin and the four empty bottles of ketchup filling up the earlier slots. She held up a small skeleton in a blue jacket.

“It’s Sans.”

“Heya, Asgoat.”

Asgore blinked, speechless. He stared at Sans for a long while before slowly looking up at Toriel. “You… brought him with you on our date?”

“He was going to be awfully lonely at home by herself,” she sighed. “I just had to bring him.”

“Heh, yeah, kiddo. Don’t be so selfish.” A small giggle came from Toriel. “That was a good one, Sans.”

Asgore’s jaw was practically on the floor. He just… didn’t know what to say. What could he say to something like this. “Wait, so… he’s the one you’re seeing?” he asked, just flabbergasted by the situation. “Well… no,” Toriel sighed. “I’m not actually seeing either of you, but… you bot are so very amazing to me.” She slowly set Sans down, who walked over to Asgore with a grin. It was like watching a small beachball roll over to a large boulder. “Nice to see you, kingy.”  

Asgore blinked down at Sans before looking up at Toriel. “You… you can’t be serious,” he said. “With him?” Toriel just crossed her arms. “Well what’s wrong with him?” Sans scoffed slightly. “Yeah, what’s wrong with me?” Asgore slumped in his seat, letting out a sigh. “Well, for one, he’s not royalty or a boss monster,” Asgore pointed out. Toriel just gave a shrug. “And I’m not royalty, either,” she huffed. “I relinquished my crown long ago, Asgore.” Well, that was true. “But he’s also about half your size,” he pointed out. “Not even that. Maybe a good third of you.”

Okay, he had her there. Sans had a big heart and a loving personality, but… he wasn’t all that impressive when it came to bed. They worked through it, but it was kind of hard when he could easily die just by getting some game in bed. At least it was nice to carry him around from time to time under her arm like an object. It got her some really confused looks.

“Size does not matter, Asgore,” she said firmly. Both men looked a bit doubtful, but Sans was at least giving her that thankful look.

“Well what can he give you that I can’t?” the king demanded firmly, but also still having that bewildered expression. “He makes me happy,” the former queen stated confidently, crossing her arms. “He was there for me when I most needed someone. He makes me laugh and feel appreciated for once.” Asgore’s mouth was agape. “I appreciated you, too! I always have! I appreciated you more than anyone! You were my wife; my beloved!”

“Then why didn’t you do it while I was at the Ruins, if you were so persistent on appreciating me?” Toriel demanded. “Because you just weren’t there. Sans was, and I love him because of that.” “Want to know why I wasn’t there? Well, for one fucking ran away,” Asgore pointed out. “And there’s also the fact that you never answer your god. Damn. Phone!”

“I told you a dog had stolen it!”

“Oh my GOD, Toriel, you’ve given that excuse at least fifty times already!”

“And they’re all true!”

Asgore just looked unbelieving of the situation. So, he toned his voice down. “Tori…” he said softly. “We’ve been together for half a century. We built a kingdom from the Underground up, and I have never stopped loving you since. Tori… I love you. I always have.”

Toriel could feel her soul melt some at this. It was true, Asgore had always been kind to her, and even when he decided to kill all humans that came down, he still cared for her feelings and loved her. She was the one who had left in the first place. It wasn’t completely fair to blame him for their splitting up. Divorce was a two way street after all.

That’s when Toriel felt something pulling at her arms. She blinked and looked down, seeing Sans with his phalanges wrapped tightly around her sleeve. “Hey, Tori,” he murmured to her, a caring tone still very evident in his low voice. “Look… I’ll understand if you still want to go back to him,” he told her. “You two have been together n’ whatnot for a while, even before you split. I just…. kinda thought we had something y’know?” He looked away for a moment. “I mean, why would you wanna date a weak skeleton like me anyways, amirite?” Toriel frowned at this, gripping his much smaller hand. “No no, don’t say that,” she comforted the discouraged skeleton. “You and I have had many a happy moments together, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world.” She thought back to the time they first met and the laughs he gave her. It made her smile.

“Toriel, you cannot split yourself between us,” Asgore said softly, taking a step towards the pair. “And… if you’re happier with him, I’m afraid I will just have to accept that.” He gave a sigh. “However, I still demand an answer.” Sans gave a nod of agreement, squeezing Toriel’s hand gently. “He’s right. You have to choose one of us, Tori. Who’ll it be?”

The former queen of the Underground and of all monsters now had to make one of the biggest decisions of her life. She loved both monsters just as equally, and the two were always so kind to her and it was clear they loved her back. She had spent a good chunk of her life with Asgore, and yet it was Sans who was there when she needed someone the most. Sans was kind and made her laugh and feel loved, but Asgore knew her better than anyone else and shared her sentiments and even some of her feelings and pains, as they had both been through some of the most painful struggles. Asgore knew how to make her feel loved and adored and wanted, but Sans was cute and easy to pick up and carry around and care for and stick in her inventory like her own portable boyfriend. Sans for one made all her worries and responsibilities and her expectations and fears just melt down the drain for the first time in decades, but Asgore was pulling that serious dick game, though. Both were equally as amazing, and both made her feel just as loved. But… who to choose?

Sans and Asgore glanced over at each other nervously. Toriel was sure taking her sweet time with this. While both men would survive without her, they still sort of hoped Toriel would come to a sensible decision. They didn’t hate each other or hold any grudges, but they still loved Toriel, and so it was a good reason as any to bump heads. Still, no anger would be shown, no matter who was chosen. They just wanted to be friends.

Finally, Toriel made her decision.

“I…. I’ve decided,” she sighed. “I love you both very much, and because of this, I’ve come to a conclusion.” Both monsters braced themselves for the impact.  

“I’ll date both of you.”

Sans and Asgore blinked in surprise.

“What?” Asgore choked.

“What?” Sans babbled.

“What?” Toriel questioned.

Fuck, impact too strong. No one was fucking ready.

“What…. what do you mean the both of us?” Asgore probed, brow furrowed. Sans nodded rapidly in agreement, needing answers. Toriel looked puzzled at their own confusion. “I’m dating the both of you, of course,” she clarified. “I both love you very much, so I’ll date the both of you. It’s a win-win-win situation.”

Sans was absolutely speechless for a moment. “But… Tori, that’s not how it works!”

“Of course it works,” She giggled. “I just said it could.”

“Toriel, you can’t do this!” Asgore argued.

“Of course I can. I’m doing it right now.”

“Tor, this doesn’t even make sense!”

“It makes perfect sense.”

“This is a horrible idea!”

“This is one of the best ideas I’ve ever had.”

“I’m not even into men!”

“You say that now.”

“Toriel, this is fucking polygamy!” Sans pointed out, following Toriel as she moved to the stairs, but stopping at the first step. Toriel just smirked down at him. “You call it polygamy. I call it a long-term threesome.”

Both men stared, speechless.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be getting out of this dress,” she sighed, going up the stairs. “I will be waiting for your arrival soon, boys.” And with that, she topped the stairs and disappeared from view, leaving the two monsters with jaws dropped. Once they were sure she was gone, Sans slowly turned his skull to look at Asgore.  

“Yo, your wife is into some freaky shit,” he blurted out. Asgore could only nod in agreement. “Try being married to her.”

[fyrborn]

pls talk to us about the dragons and their different personalities.

anonymous ❖ here’s the worst tldr list, but this is more in depth sorta

me: i’ll get to writing the bios tomorrowme @ me: stop lying 

          &&. in all seriousness, i will get to them, but school is starting soon. smh prop you should have gotten your shit together with this blog. anyway, don’t be like me and make a multidragon blog and expect yourself to write in depth bios lmao

         to make this clear since all dragons share this: they’re PRIDEFUL and INTELLIGENT. i know i joke about the best way to not getting yourself eaten is by calling them pretty, but it kinda is in a sense. after all, when you look at a dragon, you see a monster and beast, things along those lines. you don’t exactly see the beauty in serrated, sword long teeth that’s got charred flesh stuck in between or the smoldering ruins they leave behind. it doesn’t bother them if you call them otherwise, but it would hold their curiosity to judge you in seeing if you’re sincere or at least give you time to look for an exit ( viserion tends to be very vain and balerion likes to puff out his chest ). after all, winning their favor would be in your best interest when encountering them.

         they are intelligent creatures and they do understand human speech. they know what you’re saying regardless of whatever shit you’re trying to call them in a cheery tone. it’s like in hp when draco called buckbeak an ugly brute. talk shit, get hit buddy. meraxes is the most forgiving, just saying, but even she has her limits. they are in tune with their rider’s feelings through their bond and it’s one that is magical and more. it’s why the dragons can be called without any verbal message or command. the dragons communicate through a variety of sounds too, which ( aside from body language ) communicates what they’re trying to get at. i’m going off my own hc that the dragons do share their own experiences with one another. they can show each other images, sounds, scents, touch, and feelings depending on how close they are. this could eventually be something their riders might experience if they’re close enough. again it’s their own jurisdiction on whether they want to share or not. sometimes if the bond is really strong there’s no hiding it. 

         also to make this clear, just because you’re their RIDER does not necessarily save you from possibly getting injured or snapped at. they’re WILD no matter how long they’ve had a rider for. there is no TAMING of a dragon ( dany got snapped at y’know ) and once a dragon sets their mind to doing something, they’ll do it regardless of being told no. along with that note, the dragon chooses the rider, not the other way around.

                                        and now we get into what y’all really want.

balerion: is founded on this need to survive as he was one of the five dragons that was brought over from the doom. i’m not saying they didn’t feed him or anything, he can hunt on his own quite well, but i’m sure he most likely fought the other fledglings for food. and as he grew, he became more outwardly aggressive in dominating and suppressing the other dragons. most likely if these dragons didn’t die from natural causes, balerion would have killed them himself when they started to toe the line with him. honestly, i wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t partial to cannibalism. with how much he ate and having all the free skies to fly, he grew into what massive size and fire power he was known for. pretty much this is the part that makes me laugh too when jaime??? in the show was saying drogon was full grown. drogon is like a fourth of his size. he wouldn’t make an impact if they collided in the air and balerion would eat him alive. aren’t ya glad he’s dead?

         i’m trying really hard to remember what word fits him, but it’s not arrogance. he knows what he’s capable of and he has the right to act as he does. balerion has an air of superiority ( it doesn’t help that he does look down at you from his snout ), but it’s a very imposing and tangible type of atmosphere when you meet him. he wants your respect. he won’t ask for it. he DEMANDS it. which raises the question that i made early on my dash, about how anyone could have possibly controlled balerion. anyway, balerion does not go out of his way to be cruel. none of the dragons do actually, they kill for a reason and not for sport ( chasing is fun though ). he can be quite sweet ( surprise!!!! ) to those he trusts. no, he won’t roll over and wag his tail like a puppy ( they’re more feline like when it comes to body language anyway ), but he will make the softest sounds and nudge you as gentle as possible for a scratch ( not that you can really do much at his age ). 

                           here’s a sample that i wrote for some meme on my other blog:

 the skies are his to rule and he fills it with dragon song. from deep within his stomach, presses out through chest and vibrates through throat, it comes in ROAR meant to signify his presence. how any creature, small or large ( all insignificant ), can not make note of his presence was surely foolish. for even the BLIND can see his strength, let it roll over them and know how immense of a beast he was. for even the DEAF can hear what mighty beast he was, feel the way the EARTH quivers underneath wing stroke. even the SILENT can utter gasping screams when BLACK FIRE scorches land and all its inhabitants. they should all know and see just WHO it is that truly bears the CROWN.

                WHY RULE SEVEN KINGDOMS WHEN THE SKY ENCOMPASSES ALL?

  crimson gaze settles upon silver scales that GLEAM in sunlight. and dragon song once more makes itself heard, though not of his own and balerion only eyes the CHALLENGER with disinterest. such a fledgling ( by his standards ) can screech in defiance and utter his PETTY challenges all he wishes. it would not matter. HE WILL CRUSH THIS ONE’S SKULL BETWEEN HIS TEETH. maegor be willing ( or unwilling ), he will know what is BEST for them both and let him tear this silver one apart.

                                                             FOOLISH THING 

  he has lived a HUNDRED YEARS AND MORE. he has seen and faced battles FAR GREATER than this child of blood and fire has ever seen much less been in. dark shadow is cast and falls below the city ( human nest ). how such fragile creatures take to hiding, so unlike the human child that sits upon his black scales and holds onto scarlet tinged horns and spines. a whisper from maegor, a language that HE KNOWS SINCE HATCHING is given. kessa īlon zālagon zirȳ, balerion? he need not ask such a thing. the dragon will show what FIRES BURN within his chest.

                                          DO YOU THINK YOU CAN DEFEAT ME? 

  how can such a SMALL DRAGON hope to compare to such a beast like him? great jaws part and reveal curved teeth, CRUELthings that have CLEAVED armored men in half and feasted upon their horses like human children eating sweets. he calls then, to this QUICKSILVER dragon. wingstrokes carrying him far and he is met with open aggression. clawed feet latch onto his, but by far, he DWARFS this little sky lord. one can not simply DEFEAT A KING like he.

                                                    A CENTURY TOO YOUNG 

    teeth SINK through scales with such ease and reminds him of humans in their worthless metal armor. and it is just like them that he will end THIS IMPUDENT LORD’S LIFE. nostrils flare as he breathes in, feels VOLCANIC HEAT rise up from his chest and PITCH BLACK FLAMES spew from the depths of his throat and rush to burn at joint where bone connects wing to body. there is a cry of PAIN AND AGONY, but that only fuels such eagerness for the kill. a sharp jerk of his head, power given by thick neck muscle, and he makes QUICK WORK of this dragon. jaws slacken for just a second before snapping back shut. with one final SNAP, the wing tears free.

vhagar: vhagar and meraxes were born after balerion, both of who are female. they are close to one another not just because of how close they were hatching, but also being girls essentially ( they got each other’s back like visenya and rhaenys!!! ). she is very forward in what she wants and how she wants it. there are no warnings with vhagar, save with visenya of course, but generally it’s best to tread very lightly with her. she’s the embodiment of i’ll take it with fire and blood and would die fighting. vhagar is very into proving to everyone she’s capable of handling herself. while she’s not a tactician of any sort, vhagar does use the field to her advantage and not to mention her size. more or less that first started with picking fights with balerion when she was old enough. she is not scared of balerion whatsoever and often would get the upper hand of things despite being slightly smaller. she’s a quick thinker and ferocious when it comes to fighting ( more like sore loser lbr ). vhagar sadly does have a short temper, so often enough she will kinda explode when things that have been annoying her build up, but as quick as it starts, it’s also quick to go away. 

         she is pretty smug though. you know that scene in httyd where toothless kinda laughs at the other dragon he spat fire at? yeah that’s vhagar when she beat balerion. i hc that there were two major fights between the both of them, which could have ended up with either of them dead. in both cases, vhagar had the upper hand and she used the environment to her advantage. the first time was in dragonstone and vhagar nearly drowned balerion if it wasn’t for meraxes knocking her off. the second time was in king’s landing within the dragonpit because of some spacial pressure. they’re used to open skies and being able to fly freely, not being kept in one place completely. it’s a good thing they kept the fight short or the city would have all burned. 

meraxes: is the most forgiving of dragons. or rather, the most TOLERANT of them. by all means, she’s not docile. please don’t think that. she surely is the most patient and willing to wait ( to think before she leaps! ) to see what happens. she’s inquisitive by nature and finds herself rather content with lazing in the sun. though it’s not to say she’s not as ferocious as the other two in the skies. by all means, meraxes is no push over. she just has an extremely high patience, especially when it comes to balerion and vhagar. only when it’s a life and death situation will she intervene in their fights. otherwise she lets them go at it until they go into a stalemate. meraxes certainly does have a more motherly nature and often enough does coddle rhaenys should she see her upset. to a certain extent, she does find human children amusing and might allow a few curious ( and brave! ) to try and climb on her, but she’ll shake them off or push them away when she’s had enough.

        ( i gotta think about her more because she’s not as developed as i hoped aside from #she protec and #she attac)

drogon: he shares a lot of aspects with balerion ( death reincarnate! ), but because of how he was raised ( since i write balerion already hatched and wasn’t bonded at first to aenys ), he’s very tied to daenerys. in a sense he DOES want to be his mother’s son. he adores her and will do what he can to make her happy and content, but it’s also with this love that brings him such CONFLICT. you’ll see this especially when he becomes bigger than a small dog. he wants to be FREE to do what he wants without having to come back to dany and he kinda wants to come to her on his own terms. i mean ever since they were young, they mostly stayed within their mother’s view. and now they’re large enough to go somewhere without people trying to catch them in a sense.

        drogon wants to be the first. first ( lmao ) and foremost is to SURVIVE. after all, there were people trying to separate him and his brothers from their mother and there is nothing more powerful than fear to be your guide LMAO. essentially he doesn’t want to be in that position again. he wants to be able to be the one who protects himself, his siblings, but also his mother and that is a huge driving force ( also generally what gets him to rush right on back ).  and there, again, is this WILDERNESS that even dany can not tame no matter how much she can try. the best way, thankfully so, is through compromise. i think the fact that drogon had snapped at her the first time was shocking to her. drogon has always been gentle with her and to have this happen is eye opening. but aside from that!!! he does push his weight around. with his siblings, he makes it very clear that he is the one in charge. not to say that neither of them won’t challenge him from time to time. though this was mostly when they were younger and around the same size, though drogon still having a little more growth on him.

        he is a very stubborn dragon and he likes making it known that you should not test him, no exceptions even with dany ( ie snappity snap ). and as he grows larger and older, drogon definitely does find his own way in things. and honestly??? going into a fight with dany on his back is also kinda fun for him in a sense because hello prey drive, but also charred horse is pretty nice. viserion and rhaegal already ate humans so??? it’s not like he can miss out!!!

viserion: call him the PRETTIEST dragon you’ve ever seen and he’ll wait for you to compliment him more. viserion is VAIN and he likes to be praised ( fastest way to his heart ). the one thing he noticed right off the bat when he became more aware of his surroundings is that he is the color of the metal objects that people so covet, which only adds to his ridiculous ego. now i’m not saying that he’s going to stare off into a mirror all the time, but he takes a lot of time and pride in his appearance. however, i wouldn’t go as far as to count him out when it comes to a fight. just because there’s some blood being splattered or there’s some mud involved, doesn’t mean anything. being vain also means he’ll defend his name and reputation through his own force and means. so he does at times get into fights with drogon and rhaegal, but it stops once he’s makes his point ( or when drogon makes his point lmao ). hence why he grows more and more aggressive when he’s older.

        he is a very CONSERVATIVE dragon ( no politics \ o / ) and by that I mean he only does things when he deems his energy and time is worth it. this applies to moving too. big cats, for example, they only use enough energy to leap from one platform to the edge of another platform. no more and no less. viserion is like that and he is a very graceful flier because of it. though this does make him appear to be the LAZIEST dragon as he’s often seen basking in the sun while rhaegal might be off doing spiral dives for fun. speaking of his brother though, both he and rhaegal are the closest with each other because of the time they spent with each other when they were chained up, but also because of the fact they get along really well??? they work very well when it comes to hunting together and it’s really coordinated ( think ambushing when they were younger ). but!!! viserion is PROTECTIVE of rhaegal and keeps an eye on him and like siblings, they’ll back each other up. they do nest together and they don’t often stay away for too long from each other. it’s more so for reassurance than it is because they’re dependent on one another. 

                                                            he hates the cold. 

rhaegal: the smallest and by far is not coddled. in fact he would actually get angry if you do things for him ( not that he doesn’t appreciate the sentiment ) because he likes to EARN things. he is a hard worker and it’s so much more SATISFYING to him if he does. he doesn’t have an inferiority complex, but he does turn everything into a COMPETITION. he shares traits with vhagar in the sense that he wants to prove himself. hence why once he sees drogon do something, rhaegal is the one who will surely follow since he wants to also beat viserion to the punch. he is TENACIOUS in anything he tries to do and if he doesn’t get it right the first time. drogon might have been the first to fish in the seas while they were traveling on boat, but rhaegal would have been the second to dive right in. you’ll find him rather brave and bold. when he was younger he wouldn’t hesitate to fight back larger and stronger opponents and i wouldn’t put it past him to make a go at horses when he was on the ground or even dorthraki riders when they’re close by. and as he grew, it’s not surprising when he becomes the most TROUBLESOME of dragons when it came to having to find his way with wow growth spurt lmao and finding how to fly properly. all wings and kinda lanky before filing out. tbh, rhaegal isn’t the most graceful of dragons to fly since he relies a lot on speed so his movements can be sharp when there are turns and he likes to test the limits of his capabilities ( honestly imagine nearly crashing if it wasn’t for viserion or drogon to cushion/ help him pull back ). 

        surprisingly, he’s also the most SOCIAL of all dragons and CURIOUS of them. which makes him a bit more easier to handle in comparison to his brothers when he was younger. so it was alright for dany to essentially hand him off to someone else close to her to hold ( like jorah or missandei ). it’s why he’s rather SOFT when it comes to those close to dany and will often take it to kinda check in on them ( he’s got a good heart!!! ). though it might come unwelcomed when he scares the heck out of you. rhaegal, as i mentioned above, is very close with viserion. even before they were chained beneath the pyrimids, they grew to rely on one another more than they did drogon. rhaegal has been one to sleep next to viserion and at times will share food ( if he’s generous ). though they do have their fair share of fights for the meal. and i gotta write a sad dragon now smh.